Adult-FanFiction.org : Marvel 'Verse

Down Under	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Het - Male/Female Views: 6655 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
A/N: Greetings all. This comes from an idea I had a long time ago, but I wanted some experience with writing other fanfics before I tried to tackle this one. The pairing in this one will hopefully provide some surprises, or at least a refreshing change of pace. Please R&R, as without feedback I cannot progress as a writer.
Please note that this story takes place in the universe of the X-Men Animated Series. Any hiccups that occur vis-a-vis continuity are likely a result of it being an AU of Marvel-616, either directly, or indirectly due to interpretation or extrapolation on my part.
In addition to the usual disclaimers about not owning Marvel stuff, etc., I must also admit that I've never been to Australia, so forgive me when I make the inevitable screw-up. I am doing research to get it as close as possible.

Chapter 1: Whisked Away

Exhausted, weary to the bone, Jean Grey unlocked the door to her fifth-floor suite and flipped on the light. Pulling the luggage cart with her three suitcases behind her, she found herself wishing she weren’t too fatigued to use her telekinesis, as her luggage seemed much heavier than when she packed for her week in Australia. Eight hours in the airports in New York and Los Angeles – and she knew how lucky she was that her waits were that short – twenty-two total hours in the air, three hours in Sydney’s airport, and a fifteen-hour time difference combined to make her feel like this whole ‘vacation’ was actually a terrible idea.

“Why… didn’t… I… spring… for… a bellhop?” she grunted as she tugged the cart over the threshold of the cozy three-star hotel suite she’d booked. The stubborn cart finally over the hump (literally), she grumbled, “Why did I pack so much for a low-key, relaxing vacation?”

One piece at a time, she unloaded the cart and set the luggage by the combination bar-counter at the edge of the kitchenette at the door, with fridge, microwave, sink, dishwasher, and oven; further in, a ‘living room’ with loveseat, coffee table, and TV (“telly” here, Jean reminded herself); on the right-hand wall, a door left open, revealing the bedroom and adjoining bathroom; on the left-hand wall, an alcove with washer and dryer. Though she had no specific plans for some of the amenities – the bar, for instance – she was glad that all the options were available, should she need them.

Jean’s gaze rested longingly on the bed, every fiber of her being reminding her she hardly slept on the plane, never managing more than a light doze. As tempting as it was, she knew she needed to unpack first… and return the luggage cart… and grab some brochures in the lobby, to see what activities there were…

“Spontaneous – that’s the theme,” she exclaimed ruefully before beginning the process.

A matter of minutes passed, becoming a matter of will as Jean’s eyelids grew progressively heavier. Once satisfied that all her things had found a temporary home, she returned to the lobby with the cart, where there was a fairly large crowd, mostly tourists and hotel employees, milling about. Dozens of minds, all chattering to themselves, a whirlwind of emotional turmoil, assaulted her at once, demonstrating just how fatigued she really was, as her mental shields were always the last of her powers to lose effectiveness.

Could this line be any longer?
Ugh! I hate workin’ check-in fer tourists…
Luggage… so… heavy…
I just can’t wait to hit the beaches!
How much to bet on my horse Lucky Larry at the races this weekend?
Elaine is screaming her head off why won’t she stop screaming she’s not hungry I changed her diaper on the plane maybe it’s the pressure change…

Jean clenched her teeth and waded through the torrent of human emotions, her destination – the display of brochures for various tourist attractions – seemingly galaxies away. Buffeted by the cacophony, she snagged a double handful of brochures and activity flyers and steeled herself for the return journey. As Hank would say in this situation, she mused with a tight smile, once more unto the breach.

The human maelstrom still raged.

I wonder how many hot guys will be at the beach maybe one will rub sunscreen on my back…
Please Elaine please stop crying for Mommy pretty please…
What a fine piece of ass that redhead is…

Jean’s eyes widened when she caught that thought. A quick glance around revealed that she, of course, was the only redhead in the lobby of legal age to be lusted after. She rolled her eyes – the emotional subtext she’d gotten was fortunately not depraved, merely lustful – and pushed the elevator’s call button. With a deep breath, she focused on the origin of that last charming little snippet, fearing that that man might approach her and annoy her further. Professor X, she knew, would be quite disappointed if she wound up in the news for making someone’s head explode.

Look at those legs! She must exercise a lot. I bet that means she has great stamina…

Jean glanced down at her legs, suddenly regretting the denim shorts she was wearing. While not particularly immodest, this pair certainly accentuated her long, toned legs and firm rump. Hers was definitely a sound body to house her formidable mind, but she bristled at being reduced to a piece of meat.

And what a rack! I wonder if those puppies are real…

Jean set her jaw and folded her arms across her breasts, now actively trying to look as unappealing as possible. She felt frustrated that her simple T-shirt – not tight, per se, but not baggy either – failed to protect her from ogling, as she’d hoped when she picked it to wear. She also felt vaguely insulted that her mammary authenticity was coming under scrutiny. Another deep breath, coupled with the knowledge that this fellow couldn’t know that she’d never even consider getting implants, settled her somewhat.

I’d love to fuck those tits and give her a pearl necklace…

Already cringing at the thought, Jean nearly gagged at the accompanying mental image she received. Better than nearly anyone else, she knew all too well the truth behind the phrase “undressing with the eyes,” not that it prevented her cheeks burning with embarrassed indignation at being subjected to it. Silently she begged the elevator to hurry.

Maybe I’ll go chat her up, see if I can’t get something going with her.

“Oh, God, no,” she groaned to herself. A scowl planted itself on her face as she sensed him, whoever he was, approaching. The elevator doors remained stubbornly shut. Jean resolved to be polite but firm in her rejection.

“That doesn’t seem to be the best use for a pretty face,” came the man’s opening salvo. Jean glanced over and sized the man up: an inch or two shorter than she was, dark hair and eyes – Mediterranean heritage, she guessed, or maybe Latino, as he had more of a California tinge to his accent – with a thin moustache and an insouciant smirk. In fact, this man reminded her a bit of Gambit, but with none of the Cajun's charm.

“I don’t think I want to know what uses you have in mind,” she replied frostily, knowing full well already what he had in mind. Her eyes had returned to the elevator doors, and she planned to keep them there, no matter what this man said to bother her.

“Give Carlos a chance, hm?” he cajoled, edging into her personal space. At such close range, his lust for her stifled her as much as did his cologne. “You might just like the thoughts I have in my mind, once we put them into action.”

Fat chance, buster, she snarked inwardly. Aloud, she replied, “While I take your interest as a compliment, I do not reciprocate your interest.”

Carlos seemed confused, taken aback by her bluntness (and her vocabulary), unable to believe she wasn’t falling for his ‘game’. Jean sensed that, somehow, incomprehensibly, he’d actually succeeded with his little ‘routine’ in the past. “Let me buy you a drink, at least,” he offered.

Jean shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”

Carlos reached over to touch her arm, crossing the line and making her skin crawl. She made the eye contact she knew he craved, but made sure to fix him with a withering glare. He smiled, about to say something ostensibly charming about her eyes; but she cut him off. “You don’t want to buy me a drink,” she stated, the surge of adrenaline from the stress pushing away her fatigue – enough for her to use her telepathy for suggestive, hypnotic purposes.

The man’s tone shifted to something appropriately trancelike when he answered, “I don’t want to buy you a drink.”

“You want to keep your hands to yourself,” she suggested.

“I want to keep my hands to myself,” he acknowledged, his hands falling to his sides.

Unable to resist, she added one more touch. “You want to go home and rethink your life.”

Carlos cocked his head to one side, as if he’d had an epiphany. “I want to go home, and rethink my life!” With that idea wedged firmly in his subconscious, he bounded out of the hotel lobby and, more importantly, out of Jean’s sight. She shivered, trying to scrape the last vestiges of his thoughts from her brain – one of the inherent pitfalls of the telepathic stunt she’d just pulled was that she had to actually touch the other person’s mind with her own for the suggestions to take.

Right on cue, the elevator chimed, its doors sliding open. Out walked a taller fellow with red-brown hair, sunglasses, a floral print shirt and shorts. Jean froze in place, staring at this man who bore an uncanny resemblance to her… to Scott Summers. He walked past her without any sign of recognition – of course not, Jean chided herself, it’s not actually Scott – and out of the hotel. She couldn’t help but watch him go.

The distraction nearly cost her the elevator, but she managed to snap herself out of it in time to squeeze between the closing doors. Fortunately for Jean, the ride up was both quiet and uninterrupted. She felt suddenly tired again, much tireder than before.

It only took her head hitting the pillow for her to fall asleep.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Down Under