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Down Under	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 6656 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the various incarnations of the X-Men, or any characters appearing in any of their titles appearing herein. I make no money writing this.

Chapter List
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Chapter 11: The Wonderful Things He Does

Outside the Crying Crocodile, Jean began to doubt herself. Is this what I want? she wondered. Is this what St. John wants?

That, she knew, was a rather silly question, since St. John’s excitement was palpable, especially to her. Unnecessary though it might be, Jean sneaked a quick telepathic peek to confirm her suspicions. Her scrying revealed not only his eager anticipation of ‘making love to a gorgeous lady,’ but also his willingness to stop without rancor if she displayed the slightest hesitation.

Reassured, Jean smiled as they walked through the balmy night air. “It wasn’t rude to duck out of that reading early, was it?” she asked as the thought occurred to her.

St. John shook his head. ‘No worries. It’s right common, in fact, when the poetry reeks.’

“Good – I couldn’t have withstood much more anyway,” she replied earnestly. “Especially since my libido’s been locked in overdrive all day.” St. John’s chuckle revealed that he’d heard that last, prompting Jean to ask, “Am I projecting?”

St. John just laughed harder. ‘No, Jean, you said it out loud.’ He put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Y’know, with those alluring lips of yours.’

With a chagrined laugh of her own, Jean hooked an arm around St. John’s waist. Eerie waves of déjà vu she merely dismissed as a side-effect of her buzz. “Well, it’s true,” she told St. John matter-of-factly. Her voice dropped to what she hoped was a sultry pitch when she added, “Foreplay will be entirely unneeded tonight.”

‘Now that’s poetry!’ teased the Aussie, earning him a playful swat on the arm from his ginger date.

“There are a few other, um, preliminaries to discuss,” Jean warned after a short silence, “but I’d rather, um, wait until we have some privacy.”

Smirking, St. John responded, ‘Don’t tell me you’re shy.’

“Well, it’s just…” She paused to gather her thoughts, to focus on what she wanted to say. “I’m not really a one-night-stand kind of girl – not normally, anyway. But I’m very attracted to you, St. John, so I’m willing to make an exception.”

‘I’m honored, Jean,’ he admitted. ‘You don’t have to make an exception for me, though.’

Jean regarded him as he said so, wondering what, exactly, he meant by that. “I’m on vacation. I’ll be going home soon.”

Pursing his lips, St. John wondered if she’d picked up on his still-coalescing idea to invite her to move to Sydney. He decided to stow it for later, once he had more time to develop it; he also wanted to present the idea to Jean with her faculties fully functioning. ‘I just meant,’ he half-lied, ‘that it doesn’t have to be a one-night stand. It can be as many nights as you like.’ He wiggled his eyebrows for added effect.

Laughing at his cheeky reply, Jean suggested they hurry to his flat.

The rest of the walk passed in comfortable silence. Excitement coursed through Jean’s veins at the thought of intimacy with this handsome, charming, and generous man, intimacy she could tell she sorely craved. The anticipation rendered her rather impatient by the time St. John was unlocking his door.

With a flick of the wrist St. John tossed his keys onto the bar that somewhat delineated the ‘kitchen area’ from the remainder of the flat. ‘I’m right curious about these other “preliminaries” you mentioned,’ he told her while washing his hands.

Immediately Jean flushed. “Where to begin?” she asked aloud as she sat gingerly on the edge of St. John’s bed. “They’re all practical concerns, more or less.”

‘I’ve got rubbers, if that’s what you mean.’

Jean froze in the midst of kicking off her sandals. “Um, yes, that was one of them. How’d you…?”

St. John chuckled. ‘I get that one a fair bit, so I keep well-supplied as a matter of course.’

“I do apologize, though. I hear they’re less fun.” Jean sighed. “I was on the pill before my marriage fell apart, but things have been so hectic lately –“

‘Right, that’s a thing I’ve been pondering,’ St. John interrupted. ‘You’re not running around on your bloke, are you?’

Jean blanched, the bluntness of his question killing her buzz, leaving her dumbstruck. “No,” she breathed, “the marriage was, um, annulled. He thought I was dead when I wasn’t. That’s when I caught him trying to move on – or I thought I did, but I later found out I’d been mistaken… after I’d been preyed upon by another man.”

The words tumbled from Jean’s lips like a raging torrent – too fast to stop, too strong to hold back. What I told him wasn’t the whole truth, she realized, but it’s close enough. She sensed him mulling over various professions that could explain her story. She couldn’t help but smile when he paused on ‘astronaut,’ since that was at least partly true.

‘Did it have something to do with these “X-Men” you’re part of?’ he finally guessed. ‘A super-secret plundie squad?’

Jean’s mouth quirked. “Something like that.”

St. John grinned. ‘You’d tell me, but you’d have to kill me?’

“Nothing that serious,” she teased with a flick of her hair. “I might have to wipe your memory, though.” St. John made a faux-frightened face.

A short silence ensued. St. John finished drying his hands and sat beside Jean on the bed. They looked into each other’s eyes for several long moments. Finally, St. John broke the silence with the question, ‘Anything else before the clothes come off?’

“I, ah, get rather, ah, loud,” admitted a crimson-faced Jean. “I hope you don’t have easily-annoyed neighbors.”

The Aussie shook his head, answering, ‘Never had any complaints. Maybe tonight will see the first.’

Impishly Jean bit her lip and whispered, “I like a man with goals.” She made the first move by unbuttoning St. John’s powder-blue polo. Handlessly she unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside.

Caught off-guard by her brazen use of her powers, St. John could only react at first. His shirt lay on the floor before he mustered any response, which consisted at first of running his hands along her smooth, toned thighs. If she’s this geared up, he marveled, she’ll be tough to satisfy. I hope I’m up to the task.

“I think you put too little faith in yourself,” Jean responded aloud. Almost aggressive were her hands in their exploration of her torso, en route toward his khaki shorts. She nuzzled his neck, but – for reasons she couldn’t yet fathom – she couldn’t bring herself to kiss him.

Meanwhile St. John unfastened Jean’s shorts and, with her help, pulled them down her long shapely legs. Exposed to his view was a lace-trimmed pair of jade-green panties. He ran his fingertips just inside the waistband to tease her.

Jean moaned in his ear and tugged his shorts off in spurts. Pushing away to create some space to move, she looked up and down his body, admiring the fit frame. Her eyes widened when they came to rest on his not-unimpressive member, fully erect for her viewing pleasure. A brief glance confirmed that she’d managed to pull his underwear along with his outerwear.

Flushing, she murmured, “Yeah, I think that’ll be plenty.” A stray thought from him brought forth a wide grin. “St. John, you vain man!” she scolded. “You actually measured?”

‘Sure did,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘No idea what it means in inches though.’

“Not a problem,” she replied with a giggle. A gasp soon followed when St. John slipped his fingers into her panties through the leg-holes, caressing the hollow where femur met hip. Jean just barely managed to peel off her tanktop while her hips began to writhe.

St. John grinned when he saw Jean’s breasts nearly spill out from the black strapless bra she wore. They bounced with every move she made and jiggled with every breath she took. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask just how big those are – pure, scientific curiosity,’ he appended with a wink.

The busty redhead merely shrugged. “They fluctuate between C and D cups, depending on a host of factors.” With a wry smile she added, “Not sure what it’d mean in metric.”

‘Fair enough,’ replied the Aussie with a chuckle. ‘There’s a dozen different systems around the globe. It’s like sheilas come in all shapes and sizes.’

“Who knew?” Jean responded, setting off a mutual laughing fit. Once it died down, she suggested, “Would you mind, um, putting on the… the condom… yourself? I’ve, ah, never used one before.”

St. John nodded and retrieved a box from his nightstand. Jean noted the phrase “maximum pleasure” plastered in bright-yellow capital letters on the front. Figuring it meant St. John would get to feel more made her feel less bad about having to request he wear them. While the Aussie busied himself fitting the prophylactic, Jean unfastened her bra, which promptly fell off her, and tugged her panties off. Now nude, she kneeled, awaiting St. John’s expression when he turned to see her thus.

She wasn’t disappointed. From the way his mouth opened ever so slightly, to the pan of his gaze from her knees to her face to her groin, to the eager fidgeting of his hands, St. John’s entire demeanor was a study in desire. Rather than cover herself demurely, as she might have done as recently as yesterday, Jean merely smiled and let him look his fill.

Floored, the Aussie consumed eagerly the visual smorgasbord the gorgeous ginger provided him – the toned thighs, the flat stomach, the full bosom shifting with each breath, the rose promontories capping each breast, the piercing green eyes, the deep vale of cleavage, the well-groomed red carpet leading to the main attraction.

It’s like I won the grand lotto, he marveled.

Jean licked her lips. “So, since you’ve probably had a lot more, um, varied experiences, how should we…?”

‘Ignoring you just insinuated I’m a man-whore,’ he teased, eyes twinkling with mischief, ‘I don’t have a position preference. Whatever you like’s fine with me.’

“I’ve only ever had it the, um, traditional way,” admitted Jean, a note of uncertainty in her voice. Always the giver, she mused, or, put another way, always the taken. The thought spurred her to blurt, “I want to be on top.” Her whole face reddened as soon as she spoke, but only because she’d rarely, if ever, voiced her desires so bluntly.

For his part, St. John merely grinned and lay back. With one hand he held his stiff member skyward. ‘This can be a mite tricky,’ he warned, ‘so I’ll guide you through it.’

Eyes gleaming, Jean replied, “You forget I can read minds. Picture in your mind what I need to do. They’re worth a thousand words, you know,” she reminded him with a wink.

‘I always thought that exchange rate was a tad askew,’ rebutted the Aussie. He focused his mind’s eye, imagining Jean straddling him, opening her cunny for the tip of his cock to align the two sets of genitalia properly, and sliding her sodden, eager sheath down around him. He imagined how good it would feel once she’d fully enveloped him, how she’d look and sound as she worked his cock in and out of her, how –

Whoa, whoa, slow down, St. John, Jean interrupted mentally. Let’s not skip too far ahead. Rewind to the alignment step, please; that’s where you lost me when you fast-forwarded.

St. John half-smiled, half-grimaced. ‘Sorry, Jean,’ he apologized, explaining, ‘I’m just really revved for this with you.’ With effort he focused on the insertion and not on the lovely lady straddling his cock, who by all appearances equally yearned for penetration.

Jean’s breathing accelerated when her vagina accepted the condom-covered head of St. John’s penis. Part of her still couldn’t believe she was going through with this. The rest insisted she continue post-haste.

I need this. I want this. Not just the physical pleasure, she realized, the feeling of control – I’m getting it on my own terms this time.

A long, low moan burst from her throat as she lowered herself onto St. John’s delightful rigidity. Her nether regions stretched slightly to accommodate the entry, but Jean found the sensation far from uncomfortable despite disuse. Inch by inch she engulfed him; her pleasure climbed along with his member inside.

St. John grunted as he entered his partner. Centimetre after centimetre of her tight warmth squeezing him in all the right ways only made him long to feel her directly, flesh on flesh. He well knew that, despite his condom choice – thin for maximum sensation – there was no substitute for the feeling of a woman’s slick wetness.

It wasn’t long before Jean began to move her hips, lifting and lowering herself in short, quick strokes. She moaned loudly as she lengthened them, and her partner groaned in chorus with her. I never imagined riding would feel this good, she marveled. Paired hands – hers or his, she wasn’t sure, so focused was she on her riding – raked along her hips, thighs, buttocks, breasts.

Pleasure surged through Jean’s body with each cycle of ingress and egress. Her hands kneaded their way to St. John’s shoulders for better balance. A series of high staccato moans escaped her lips.

Underneath her, St. John couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun shagging. His partner’s tits bounced in time as she impaled herself on him again and again. Her face screwed up into the quaintest expressions while her noises rose in pitch and volume. Her cunt smoldered around him.

‘Better hurry up, Jean,’ he warned her. ‘I’m on the verge of Krakatau here.’

Jean nodded and groaned. Her own climax approached apace, but along with it coalesced a vague discomfort, an odd mental pressure, a subtle psionic dissonance. Whatever it was, she couldn’t put her finger on it just now; so she shunted it aside, unwilling to let it worry or distract her to the point she couldn’t cum.

St. John groaned beneath her. His hands firmly gripped Jean’s sculpted rear, and she loved the strength of his grip, the softness of his hands. Feeling St. John pulsing and twitching inside her pushed Jean headlong over the edge.

“Ohhhhh… ohhhh-OHHHHHHHHHHH… St. John… yes!” she cried, her head lolling backward so her screams wouldn’t hurt his ears. “Oh my God… yes… yes, yes, YES… St. John… ohhhhh… OHHHHH… OHHHHH-ohhh-OHHHHHHHHHHHHH… YEEEEESSSSSS!”

St. John grinned as he came down from his peak. From the look of almost-pain on her face and the way her cunt contracted around his softening cock, he knew he’d satisfied her. If the squeals indicated anything, tonight was a night she’d not soon forget.

Gradually Jean relaxed as her orgasm subsided. Her mind still hazy from the endorphins, she dismounted her partner. Off-balance, she rolled onto her back beside him. Her chest rose and fell with her rhythmic, greedy gasps for air.

Beside her, St. John felt thoroughly spent. Somehow he managed to remove his contraceptive barrier and toss it in the rubbish bin. ‘Jean, why don’t ya stay ‘ere t’night,’ he managed, despite the fatigue threatening to overwhelm him. ‘I ‘ate for ya t’ take a walk back alone, ‘n I couldn’t go with ya if ya dragged me.’

Drowsy herself, Jean sighed contentedly. “I think my legs’re rubber bands right now. I think I’ll stay,” she murmured as she drifted off.

**********************************************************************************************************************

A/N: Sorry for the long wait between updates. I have no excuses for my laziness. This chapter is at least a fair bit longer than average, so hopefully that will appease the lot of you.
New semester is starting tomorrow, so no telling when I'll find time to write and post the next chapter. I'm also at a stage where it's becoming work to write this story, but I'm determined to make myself finish what I start.
Thanks once again to my reviewers, whose input really gave me a lot to think about after the last installment. I look forward to the reactions from you two. As per usual, all, please chime in with your feedback.
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