Quixotic

Quixotic Chapter Eighteen (NC-17)

Disclaimers Apply

 

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetuse,use, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…how’d the tenor-ness
go? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and
Dracena are all sparkley for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile’s going to be disappointed to hear
how slashy I thought the third movie was, lol.
Readers/Reviewers: *EXTRA BIG GLOMP *
Thank you! I mean it!

 

“Aspirin?”

“I think
I’m beyond that,” Scott groaned, falling face-first onto their bed.

The
aspiring bottle whisked itself back to the bathroom as Jean regarded her
beleaguered husband with vague amusement. “I told you that was a bad idea.”

Scott
rolled onto his back to glare up at her.
“Don’t rub it in.”

“Oh, it
could be worse,” she grinned, bending over him so that her hair fell like a
curtain, shadowing both their faces, “At least he didn’t have a sword or Remy’s
bo still…”

Scott
groaned in assent. “The Professor’s
expecting us to help decorate for tomorrow.”

“I know,”
she said with a hint of a smile in her voice as she settled above him, one knee
on either side of his waist. “I’m
supposed to help Storm and Rahne bake as soon as Remy and Jubilee get back from
town with the rest of the groceries.”

“How many
people are going to be here?” he asked idly, his hands coming to rest on her
hips as she bent lower to brush as kiss across his jaw.

“Oh,” she
kissed him again, “some people Warren knows through his father,” another kiss,
“some people the Professor knows, some of Emma’s connections… People with more
money than God.” She kissed him again,
this time darting her tongue out to seek entry, eliciting a soft groan as he
complied. Jean pressed against him as
the kiss deepened, rubbing against his quickly apparent arousal. “I think we have a few minutes,” she
murmured as she broke the kiss. “I
think I know a way to put them to good use…”

Scott
grinned. “Like you had to ask.”

“I didn’t
ask…”

“Don’t
argue semantics,” he sighed, pushing against her, making her echo his earlier
groan. “It’s been a while…”

“I know,”
she responded softly, one of her hands working it’s way between them to slip
beneath the waistband of Scott’s jeans and grasp his length. “School and work and Kurt being insane…”

“Stressed,
Kitty tells me. He’s not insane. He’s stressed.”

“Mmmm.” She let the subject go as she slid down his
body, unfastening his jeans as she dropped to her knees by the bed, pulling Scott
closer in the process. There was little
noise in the room save for the hurried rustle of clothing and a few sighs and
murmured appreciative noises, until Jean brought her mouth to his length and
brushed a slow kiss across hard flesh. Scott’s
moan reverberated in her ears he the took him in, inch by inch, laving and
drawing on him as she did so. Jean
opened her mind and let mental tendrils of persuasion skim across his skin,
touching where she could not as she focused her physical body on more pressing
matters. Scott pushed against her, earning
a sharp pinch on his bare thigh for the trouble. Play nice or don’t play at all.

“You’re
evil,” he complained as she drew away almost entirely, swirling her tongue over
sensitized flesh seeping with want for her touch.

But
it’s a good evil…

Scott found
he was inclined to agree as she plunged his length into her warm mouth, obliterating
most coherent thought as ecstatic golden darts of pleasure spiked his veins and
being. It had been so long since he and
Jean had any time together that was not fraught with work, getting ready for
work, recovering from a day at work…he knew he was not long for their activity
as Jean intensified her physical and psychic ministrations. His release came in a wash of pleasure-pain
born of attempted restraint and failure at that control. He felt Jean start against him before
swallowing all he gave, drawing on him even after he was done. After a horribly ticklish and sensitized
moment, he pushed her away. “Need a
minute,” he explained breathlessly.

“Right,”
she sighed, humming with energy. She
moved to the bed to lay next to him, tracing lazy circles across his stomach
and chest. “Damn it.”

“Huh?”

“The Professor
needs me…”

He frowned
and tightened his arm around her. “Not
as bad as I do right now…”

Jean sighed
as the mental call beckoned again. “Scott…”

Scott,
please let Jean come see me, The Professor intruded, sounding somewhat
amused. As a matter of fact, come
along. And keep it quiet. It seems Kurt has found a way off the
grounds…

 

 

“Andouille,”
Remy said slowly. “It a type o’sausage…”

The lady
behind the counter frowned at him. “We
don’t carry that here…”

“How can ya
make a decent pot o’ gumbo in dis town widdout it?” He sighed and shook his
head. “Yankees!”

She
shrugged. “Seafood?”

Remy made a
face. “Seafood gumbo?”

Jubilee
appeared as if from nowhere at his elbow.
“Sounds good to me.”

The lady
behind the counter moved to help another customer as Remy made a new face at Jubilee. “I ain’t eatin’ bait.”[1]

Jubilee
shrugged. “Whatever… You know Amara has
her own money?”

He raised a
brow. “So? We all do…”

“No,” she
rummaged in her pocket and brought out a gold coin, which Remy took with
renewed interest. “She’s got her own
money!”[2]

Remy studied
the coin intently. It bore a likeness
of Amara on it, hair air ornately styled and her face turned in profile to the
viewer. Latin was embossed along the
edges, her name recognizable along with the word for “forever.” “Dis real?”

“I think so…” Jubilee took his elbow and dragged him onto
the feminine hygiene aisle for privacy.
“She tried to pay the lady at that weird bookstore with it.”

“You went
shoppin’ wid her?” he asked, vaguely amused.

“I wanted
to get a new book and she just followed me,” Jubilee groused. “She got really mad when the woman said that
wasn’t good here… Nearest I can figure, she’d been giving the Professor her
money in exchange for American dollars.
He’d been slippin’ back to her or something because she said that she
never seems to run out…”

Remy turned
the gold coin over and over in his hands.
“Wonder why she didn’t know dis won’t spend here…she gotta notice dese
tings, eh? No one paying wid gold?”

Jubilee
snorted in derision. “Who knows, with
her? She’s slow.”

Remy
frowned. “Las’ week she were ton amie.”

“Last week
she wasn’t being stupid,” Jubilee growled.

“Chere,” he
sighed, pocketing the coin, “it ain’t good fo’ ya to be so wrought up…It make
tings hard on yo’ system…”

She tilted
her head back in confusion. “Huh?”

“You ain’t
needin’ ta be all worried now,” he said with unusual emphasis. “Je sais…”

“You know what?”

“I know dat
you be needin’ ta rest more ‘n you been…”
He tried to slip his arms around her but she stepped away quickly, nearly
upended a display of tampons. “P’tite…”

“What do
you mean, I need to rest more? Do I
look tired or something?”

“Non, mais…”

“Mais what?” She ran her hands through her yellow-tipped
hair in frustration. “You’ve got to lay
off the rum, man…you’re getting loopy even when you’re sober.”

He sighed
deeply. “Chere, I doin’ dis all
wrong. Les’ skip dis party tomorrow
night an’ do somethin’, just us two…”

Jubilee’s
frown faded somewhat. “Just us? No double dates with Rogue and Todd? A real date?”

“Oui. Vraiment.”

She bit her
lower lip as she turned this over in her mind.
“If it’ll get me out of this party, I’ll go anywhere you ask “

Remy smiled
brightly then, looping his arm across her shoulders and leading her towards the
counter again. “Bon. Now you gonna have to dress up…” He missed her dismayed groan as his mind
swam in nervousness. Las’ night as a
free man, homme… Dis time Noel you
gonna be engaged…

 

Amara was
pissed, to put it bluntly. Jubilee had
grudgingly traded her the contents of her wallet for one of the coins, but she
was still missing some vital elements for her Saturnalia ritual. She had been pleased to find the esoteric
store in Bayville, a struggling establishment with a small customer base that
carried pagan and metaphysical books and goods. Amara had cried out in
surprise the first time she saw it, a selection of statuary based on Roman deities
in the window. It had quickly become
one of her favorite places whenever she went to town, mainly because no one
there questions why she needed so much incense or oils, why she bought so man
blades and statuettes or why she sometimes murmured in Latin as she pored over book
after book of Roman mythology. It was a
tiny breath of home to her and made her feel less lost whenever she could
immerse herself in the religion but today, it had just made her irritated. She had considered picking a fight with the
woman behind the counter, earning another black eye perhaps, but she discounted
that idea quickly. She wanted to be
able to return to the store later, when she straightened out the money
situation. Jubilee seems to have
calmed down some…I wonder if I can provoke her again? She hated herself for needing the hatred,
for wanting to be shunned and ignored.
But in her heart of hearts, she knew she deserved it for what she had
caused on Nova Roma, for the pain she had caused in Bayville… Several things
happened at once as she stepped off the curb, deep in thought. A black sedan turned the corner,
accelerating as it entered the main thoroughfare, Amara saw it and wondered if
this was some effort of the fates to show her that yes, she did deserve
punishment, and someone shouted to her to move, to watch out. The car barely clipped her, striking her
hard enough to send her sprawling back on the sidewalk, hitting her head on the
fire hydrant. Oh…I don’t think I
deserved that…[3]



[1] Shrimp,
crawdads, and the like are always bait to me.
Even if I wasn’t a vegetarian, I couldn’t ever associate those with food…That’s
what you fish with.

[2] Morgan
brought that line up, lol. It’s from Coming
to America.

[3] I admit it…stolen
from PotC.