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Let's Make Believe	By : Zoisite84 Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 2890 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "X-Men" or any characters therein. I am not making any money off of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Let's Make Believe
- 1
Summary: Here's a little story that Jean and Charles made up. Set a couple of years after "Evolution" (so Jean is at least 18 here, though she roleplays a younger student - fair warning if that kind of thing squicks you), and based on an incredibly silly-ass season one episode of "The Super Hero Squad Show," wherein Jean is the Xavier Institute's only cheerleader, and also kind of a total cooze. Title is from Britney Spears' "I've Just Begun (Having My Fun)." Warning for spanking, and some dirty talk.

The cheerleading uniform is a costume, purchased from a Halloween store early into the season; it's green and yellow, and Jean offers to simply wear her old Bayville one, but Charles contritely protests that that would "make me feel even more like an old lecher," so this is the compromise.

She enters his office and shuts the door, and immediately, he can tell that she's in character, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, and prancing a little, green socks rolled down stylishly above white Keds. "You wanted to see me in private, Professor Xavier," she smirks, and Charles folds his hands a little prissily.

"Yes, Jean," he says, and is trying not to lose his nerve to do this, though he feels kind of ridiculous. "Sit down, please. I wanted to talk to you about your latest physics assignment."

Jean makes a show of slouching into a chair opposite his side of the expansive oak desk. "Can't you make it quick, Prof?" she grouses, and Charles has to bite back a grin at her faux-audacity. "I have like, shopping and stuff to do tonight."

"I would think your education deserves at least as much attention as new shoes," Charles replies haughtily, and Jean rolls her eyes. "In any case," he continues, "Do you understand why you've earned the grade you did?"

Jean sighs. "Yeah. You gave me an 'F' 'cause like, all the work was Scott's and not mine."

Charles nods. "Indeed. He confessed that you had paid him off quite handsomely for letting you copy his lab worksheet. I think it would only be fair, then, for you to return said payment to him. Would you do that, Jean?"

Jean giggles meanly. "Oh, I'm not sure I can, Professor. It's not the kind of payment one walks around with in their purse or pocket, if you know what I mean." Charles does, and coughs. "Look, Professor," Jean continues smoothly, and Charles is fairly certain that she's not wearing underwear, and if she spreads her legs just a little bit more lazily, he's going to know for sure, and ... he forces himself to look back up at her face. "I'm real sorry for cheating. I won't do it again, I promise. I’ve just got so many … other things goin’ on, you know? It’s a lot of pressure to be the head cheerleader,” she pouts. “I’m sorry,” she says again, and Charles sighs and clears his throat.

"I'm just not sure that's good enough at this point, Ms. Grey." Jean's mind pulses with pleasure at the show of formality, and he's spurred to continue. "Cheating is a very serious offense. Whether or not you've made things right with Scott is irrelevant in the face of how badly such behavior can jeopardize your future. You could receive a very nasty mark on your permanent record, or even ..."

"Yeah, yeah," Jean interrupts, waving her hand. Charles' eyes narrow a little, and she pops her gum ('gum, seriously,' Charles intones to her, and she sends back a tiny mental shrug) loudly. When she speaks again, it's after stretching long legs into a standing position, and then raising her arms overhead, her already-short skirt rising even higher up her thighs. "So what kind of arrangement can we make to ensure that my permanent record stays ... unblemished?" she asks, and Charles blinks.

"Jean, I'm not sure you really understand what you're asking ..."

"Oh, I'm quite sure that I do, Professor." Jean glides closer, her calves skinny and bare, face a little flushed, and Charles is transfixed. "What do you need from me, Professor?" Jean whispers, and Charles sees her hands slide along her hips, tugging the skirt up to an even more indecent length. "Do you want to suck you off ... or more? I can do that," she grins, and Charles raises an authoritative eyebrow at her.

"Not with that gum in your mouth, you won't," he retorts, and watches her tug the sticky wad from between her teeth, and then flick it into the squat garbage can in the room. "I'm not sure you really understand the severity of the situation," Charles continues, and Jean's eyes flash with annoyance. "This isn't play-time, Jean. This is meant to be a reprimand, a punishment. You're being punished."

Jean's mouth quirks again. "Well, then," she husks, and as she moves even closer, it's confirmed that, in fact, she is completely bare beneath her pleated cheerleader's skirt. Charles' eyes flit up to meet the girl's amused gaze, to share the significance of the words she utters next: "Punish me, Professor."

The impetus behind all of it was when Jean had found the stick, a thin, metal rod that Charles had flushed and explained through stammers had been used on him as a boy during his private Latin studies. It had been decidedly unsexual, he assured her firmly, but of course, Jean had seen fit to co-opt the idea - with suggestions for alterations, of course - for their own roleplaying sessions. "It's not any different than playing out a scenario in the Danger Room," Jean had wheedled, and though Charles had found that to be a poor comparison, he had eventually given in, even agreed to the role of the stodgy professor that Jean had assured him was "all an act, of course. You're really not so old, Charles." She had climbed into his lap and kissed him after that, and then she'd shoved her breasts in his face; he'd had only to cup her bouncing tits and lavish attention on her perky nipples, and by that point, his reluctance had moved up into full-fledged "reluctant agreement" territory.

She grins at him expectantly now as he sighs and rolls his chair towards the corner where the stick leans, glistening, against the wall. Hefting it, he remembers the feel of it smacking him across bare ass cheeks as an occasionally obstinate youth, and realizes that he's quite all right with creating a new sense memory today. "Well, come here, young lady," he tells Jean, and positions her across his desk, leaning over the edge on her belly, watching her hands curl casually around the edges. Nervously, he flips up Jean's skirt, and, unable to resist, runs a flat hand over the surface of those perfect, unmarred, pert cheeks. 'We'll fix that,' some savage part of him notes, and he hears Jean murmur "Professor ..." before rearing up and thwacking her with the rod for the first time.

"Aaahh," Jean cries out, and her fingers curl with more purpose now around the desk top. The stick leaves a thin, red, blotchy line that's already raising the skin a little, and Charles marvels at it, even sends Jean a mental image of what he sees. "M-more, please," Jean bites out, and Charles feels himself grinning. "I've been so bad, Professor," she continues, and he snorts.

"Yes, you have." His voice is gravelly and low as he whacks her again across the ass, and then a few more times, allowing each mark to blossom before taking aim carefully yet again. Jean is keening and whining now, and rutting against his desk, and when he reaches a little between her cheeks with his fingers, he comes away with a fairly significant wetness coating the tips. "I sense that you're enjoying this far more than you should be, Jean," he tells her sternly; and then, compelled to give himself over to the role as much as Jean so obviously has, adds, "you're such a bad little girl."

"So bad," Jean caterwauls, and Charles spanks her some more, until his arm is actually a bit sore and Jean is gasping and moaning and thrusting her now-reddened ass desperately in the air. "Ohhh, Professor, so good, I'm so bad, such a naughty girl, Professor," she sobs, and he smiles. He rubs at her ass, and then, curling his fingers, rubs at Jean's entrance a little. She lets out a shuddery gasp, and Charles' dick jumps to attention. "Turn over," he hears himself tell her fondly, and notes idly that their love-play has left a smear of Jean's essence along the front of his desk. He wipes at it absently, and then Jean crawls atop the flat, wooden surface, lying on her back; her stomach and legs, dangling over the edge, feet off the ground, quiver a little, and when Charles fingers her again a bit, she gasps. "P-please," she groans, and he raises an aristocratic eyebrow.

"I'm not sure you deserve any special treatment, Ms. Grey." His own erection emboldens him, and his eyes flash. "I'm not sure you deserve for me to touch that wet little pussy of yours. I don't know that you should be allowed to gain pleasure from me eating your cunt." Jean lets out a strangled noise and he smiles. Then, without warning, he bends his head and begins doing just that.

"Fuck!" Jean sobs as the first sensations of Charles' tongue swabbing around inside of her vagina hit. She shudders and moans and grips at her own breasts through her uniform's shirt, and Charles carefully grips her thighs with what he feels are surprisingly large, strong hands, tugging them apart, and then continues lapping at Jean's cunt. He suckles and licks at her womanly folds noisily, using his thumbs to hold her pussy open for his mouth to explore as his nose bumps against her soft mound, and Jean's legs shake, her hands scrabbling for purchase along the lengthwise edges of the desk this time. The smell that emanates from between her legs is musky, but not unpleasant, and Charles eats Jean out methodically, smiling a little when he hears her little burbles and feels her soft shudders when his mouth caresses just the right spot.

Eventually, she lapses into mindless pleading, and Charles obliges, guessing what she needs, and begins lavishing all of his attention on her clit. He slides a couple of fingers inside of her, as well, and it doesn't take long after that for her to come, spilling over the edge, her cunt soaking wet and a bit sticky in the aftermath. "Professor," she sighs with relief, and Charles tugs a handkerchief primly from the breast pocket of his suit, and wipes his hands with it. His own erection has not flagged in the slightest yet, and as Jean's verbal abilities rebuild to more than mindless whining, she seems to realize that this session of theirs isn't over quite yet.

She slides onto the ground on her knees, and begins pawing at Charles' pants, unzipping them deftly, and then palming his erection. "Is this extra credit?" she asks, batting her eyelashes, and Charles still has his wits about him enough to cross his arms over his chest.

"Don't push your luck, young lady."

Jean laughs, but then begins sucking his cock; her tongue lolls around the head and the rim, one well-manicured hand coming up to grip at the base, the other sliding up the older man's right thigh. Vacillating sharply, Charles reaches out and fists the convenient ponytail bouncing slightly at the back of Jean's head. Long, red hair clenched tightly around his fist, he uses it as leverage to keep Jean's head bobbing on his dick. Jean, for her part, allows the rough treatment, even allows Charles to pull off momentarily and smack her lightly on the cheek. "Are you my bad little girl, Jean?" he asks her, shoving her face back down anew. He hears Jean's loud, messy slurping, and bites back a groan. "Are you a dirty little slut?"

"I'm your dirty little slut, Professor," Jean gasps, and goes back to tonguing at Charles' balls. When he comes, a stripe of jizz snakes across the girl's face, smeared into her chin when she goes to wipe at it with the back of her hand. She pants, her lips red and a bit swollen, and Charles thinks he's never seen a more beautiful sight.

Zipping himself back into his trousers, he allows himself to collect his bearings before speaking again, still in character as best he can be. "I believe we can come to some agreement regarding your academic dishonesty being stricken from your record," he says at last, watching Jean stand and stretch, brushing small granules of dirt from the floor that Charles tries so very hard to keep clean off of her knees. "However, Ms. Grey, do not think that this same tactic will work again. This was strictly a one-time negotiation method. Do you understand?"

"I think I do, Professor," Jean smarms, and then blows him a kiss. She saunters out of the room, her sullied skirt clinging in indecent ways to the backs of her thighs, and Charles watches her go silently. Then he wheels himself around to the front of his desk and locates the hand sanitizer container inside, applying it liberally to the marred oak surface before scrubbing at it thoroughly, using his handkerchief as a rag. When he's finished, he replaces the steel rod used to spank Jean against its previous location along the wall, stroking it fondly just a bit before abandoning it to grade his real students' actual physics papers.
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Let's Make Believe