Lick, Sip, Suck
by
Felicia Hardeski
Disclaimer: Neither character is mine.
The balmy summer day had given way to a humid afternoon. A shimmer of haze rose from the sidewalk, mutant and human alike had retreated to bath-tubs, air-conditioned rooms and the select few, the local pool.
'It was simply too damned hot', Jean thought as she lounged on her bedroom floor, the fan above her ineffectually pushing the heavy air from one side of the room to the other.
For a week now it had been in the upper 90s, the heat and humidity frizzing her hair into an unmanageable tangle. Bad hair days aside, it was the constant showers that were frustrating her. She'd showered three times today, and still her body felt gritty with salty grime. The smell of unwashed humanity hung in the air.
Jean watched as the setting sun cast shadows across her room. She'd hoped the night would cool off, but knew it was probably in vain.
Much more of this heat and people would start getting snappy. Snappy people gave her headaches... all that repressed emotion. If she had any sense she'd be in the professor's study enjoying the air conditioner blasting cool air into the room. But with so many tired cranky people, the static in her mind would be suffocating.
Taking off her light cotton tank-top Jean let loose with a string of swear words under her breath. She hated the way the smelly sweat-soaked material stuck to her skin. Rather than cooling it stifled. Dammit... if Ororo would get off the high horse she resided on, an artic breeze would perk everyone up. Too bad it didn't work into the whole necessary suffering thing 'Ro was into. The woman was from Africa for the love of Christ. Couldn't she show those with a little less tolerance for the heat some compassion?
Jean rubbed a hand across her head, wiping off the grease there. She knew she was being unreasonable.
A sudden vision of an air-conditioned hotel room echoed in her head, but there was some fashion event in New York this week. The chances of getting a nice hotel room were slim, and the effort would expend more energy than it was worth. So here she was, stuck in the heat wave that would never end.
Typical.
Jean pouted; taking her shirt she rubbed it across the tops of her legs, exposed by a pair of cut-offs.
The thumping of footsteps made her look up, and an upside down Logan appeared in her sight. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white cotton top, and carrying a brown paper bag. He looked good enough to eat, she thought: If she were hungry.
It was hot, too darned hot to do anything.
He gave Jean a saucy wink and she sighed- knowing where *that* wink usually led.
"Logan, it is too hot." She warned.
He grinned, damn him, and gave one of his mutton-chops a rub "I know Jean. But, Babe I gotta to tell yer, I got this sudden psychic vision that you were in trouble."
Jean rolled her eyes. "Apart from dying from the heat, I'm just dandy. And when did you become a 'path."
Logan sat down beside her and ran the back of his hand across her sweaty cheek. "I have just the thing." He reached in the bag and pulled out a large bottle of what appeared to be Tequila. Jean squinted in distaste; it was obviously authentic... there was the little grub, bouncing around down the bottom.
"Cuervo Gold." Logan announced proudly, like it explained everything.
"Tequila?" Jean made a face. "I have no tolerance for the stuff. You'll be picking me up off the floor after one shot." Logan gave her a dangerous grin.
"Darlin', you just gotta know how to drink it right." Jean's eyebrows perked but she remained silent. "Spent my time cage fightin' in Mexico for a few months. Let's just say there's a certain trick to it."
She nodded, "Yeah, I know. You follow every shot with water."
Jean knew that wasn't where he was going but who honestly could think about sex in this heat? And was he really going to share with her what he'd probably learnt off some Mexican hooker? The thought was too much.
Come to think of it, what he'd learnt from his bar conquests over the years had served well in the sexual re-education of one Ms Jean Grey. Perhaps she should put away her prejudices...
Jean sat up and looked Logan in the eye. She gave a small grin, and liked her lips. The responding growl he gave told her all she needed.
Message received.
Loud and clear.
"I'm warning you right now, I haven't eaten since breakfast."
Logan ignored her and pulled some lemons from the bag. "Shots?" Jean said, with what she knew was a whinge, "Can't we at least mix it with some juice or something?"
Logan pinned Jean with a look that told her all she needed to know about what he thought of that idea. No way did the Wolverine dilute. Especially with girly shit like orange juice. Holding her look so he knew he had her attention he took a lemon and tossed it in the air. Quicker than Jean knew what was happening, Logan had released his claws and with a few sharp flicks of his wrist the lemon fell into quarters on the floor.
God she loved this man.
Wide-eyed and no longer merely hot from the air temperature, she took a slice of lemon. Alpha male displays like that never failed to arouse her. Logan poured two shots of the amber coloured liquid and handed one to her.
Logan raised his glass , "L'Chaim, Jeanie."
"To life.." She echoed. Jean lifted the glass to her lips, took a deep breath- she just knew she'd regret this tomorrow- and downed the fiery liquid. She swallowed it whole and it went down, burning a path to her stomach. She hated the herb and oil taste of the stuff. Sucking at the lemon wedge voraciously, she looked to drinking partner.
"Doesn't seem all that different to how I would usually drink the stuff." Jean said throwing the lemon rind at him. Logan grabbed at her wrist.
"Did you like it?" He asked. The warmth of the tequila spread across her belly and slowly moved into her limbs. She'd warned him she was a lightweight- and he had a healing factor. Jean felt suddenly heavy and lethargic.
But did she like it?
Jean nodded. Downing shots with her man by her side wasn't an unpleasant experience.
Logan passed her another shot. And Jean questioned the wisdom of getting smashed on a school night. "You just didn't drink it right." He said smelling her reticence.
With a smile that made her think of old fashioned words like "debauched", he let go of her arm and took another shot, forgoing the lemon chaser.
Jean shrugged and took another, as Logan swallowed his third.
Propping himself up next to Jean, Logan nodded his approval. "Nice to see you let go a little, Red." Jean merely blinked; she wondered how nice it would be when he was watching her empty her stomach into the toilet bowl tomorrow morning.
Logan looked down along her body, taking in her bra, and short cut-offs, her pained toe-nails and hair pulled back with a single clip. "Don't think I've see yer like this before. You know, no makeup, wearing those tiny little cut-offs. Every other time I see yer, the suit and lab coat are on. The hairs done and yer Dr Jean Grey. Today you seem... more..." He trailed off taking a long swig from the bottle of Cuervo.
Apparently they were forgoing the formality of glasses as well.
Interesting.
"I thought you were going to tell me how to drink this properly."
Taking the bottle from him in a bold gesture, Jean quickly breathed out and downed a gulp. Funny, how it got easier every time.
Unexpectedly, Logan wedged a lemon quarter in her mouth, and before she should protest, lent over and ran his rough, warm tongue down her neck to the top of her breast. Jean knew Logan could taste the salt from her sweat. Stopping at the cup of her bra, he ran his mouth back and forward against it, nibbling at the delicate silky apparel that both hinted at and revealed cleavage in equal measure. His impromptu tongue bath left a chill on her skin as he went.
Dragging his tongue back up to her chin and along to her lips he pressed his own full against hers and sucked on the lemon he'd positioned there. Taking the sour wedge into his mouth, he sat back and grinned around the fruit. Looking ridiculously pleased with himself, Logan spat out the lemon, swiped at the bottle and taking another sip finishing the ritual.
Jean looked slightly stunned. "Wow," she gasped, "Don't get me wrong, but that is *definitely* not something I would have imagined was in your repertoire. And isn't it lick, sip, suck?" She question with a barely concealed smile. Really, who cared what way it was done? The end result was the same.
Logan smiled, but Jean could detect a hint of hurt. He lent forward and their lips met. Logan's mouth tasted good; the slightly herb taste of tequila mixed with the fruity smack of the lemon. Jean broke the kiss, moving her mouth to the junction of where his neck met his shoulder. Nibbling at the tanned skin, scrapping her teeth across the tense muscle, Jean savoured the delicious tang she found there.
"Lose the shirt." She growled, and Logan ripped at the material in his haste.
Taking another shot, this time a smaller one, Jean traced her tongue on a deliberate path down his chest and stomach, stopping only where his jeans began. Neither concerned themselves with the remaining lemon as Jean straddled him, and they kissed for long minutes. Jean could feel his hardness, straining through his pants, pressing against her.
She loved that she could excite him. Arouse and contain the beast in him. It was all about power. Giving it up or taking it, it never failed to get her.
"Mmmm, Logan, more."
Logan laid Jean down on the floor, working of her cut-offs and emerald thong. Running his tongue from her ankle to her knee. Jean's eyes rolled back into her head as he leisurely licked at her like a cat. Jean could hear a soft growling emanating from Logan as he worked her with a sure tongue. Flicking against her clit, rubbing up and down, along her glistening lower lips and then inside of her. Running his mouth back to her clit to suck with enough force to make her hips thrust towards him, begging for more.
Needing it.
Logan worked his hand into the duet, running it lightly up her inner thigh, gently tickling across her springy red pubis, and then delving gently into her, as he simultaneously sucked.
Sucking, licking, sipping-he worked at her.
He was completely focused on her, as if he could spend all day there. Knowing Logan's stamina, as Jean did, she suspected he probably could. Conscious thought dissolved as she was consumed by pleasure. Panting, stretching out trying to contain the seething sensations, Jean lost her self to the enormity of the moment.
Logan watched as Jean's body contorted, wrapping itself around him. Wringing every ounce of pleasure out of him. It was an amazing sight. One that never ceased to amaze him or turn him on.
But he stilled the fire in his veins that demanded completion.
Jean had disturbed him with her comment before.
It was true that their couplings were often violent, swift. He needed her to know that he had a tender place in his heart reserved solely for her.
So as Jean released him, boneless with satisfaction, he put his shirt back on, re-zipped his jeans, and lay next to her. Taking her in a light embrace he nuzzled at her soft hair and stroked her as she returned to him.
Thunder broke the careful quiet of the room. A cool fresh breeze brushed over the two as the sky rendered in two.
"Logan?" Jeans voice was tentative. She could feel the hardness of his unsatisfied desire against her back. "What's wrong?"
Logan let out a shaky breath. "Nothing's wrong, Darlin'." Logan felt her giggle, rather than heard it. She gave a suggestive sway of her hips, showing him she was well aware of the "problem" between them. Logan stilled her with a sharp hiss.
"Why have you stopped?" Jean tried to turn, but he held her fast against him with one hand. The other stroking gently at her hair.
"I haven't stopped, Red." He said as he placed a reverent kiss on her temple. "I'm lovin' yer."
Jean closed her eyes and concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest against her, the soothing of his hand on her and the nuzzle of his nose in her hair. Appreciating the stillness he wanted to give her. Knowing that Logan spoke eloquently with his body, words often failing him.
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