h e r . e n g i n e ' s . r u n n i n g . h o t

Her Engine's Running Hot
[by victoria p.]

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Scott's working in the garage. Jean's looking for a tune-up.

Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Dot, and Meg. This is a response to Eil's humor challenge, wherein one party prefers household chores to hot monkey lovin'. Not exactly how this went, but close.

Dedication: For Naomi, who called me on it, and for Min, who writes the best S/J and makes me want to actually like Jean. <g>

Date: October 2001

~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation

Scott felt someone else's presence in the garage before he saw who it was. Rolling out from underneath the Porsche, he looked up to see Logan grinning down at him.

"Jeannie's looking for ya," the Canadian informed him.

Scott sighed.

"You ever been with a pregnant woman, Logan?"

"Nope." One of the few sexual experiences he hadn't had yet.

"It's great at first. I mean, yeah, the morning sickness sucks and you have to be all sensitive and supportive while they're puking, and they've got those hormonal surges, you know?" Logan nodded. "So yeah, Jean cries a lot, or gets angry at the weirdest things--" both men chose to forget the night she'd torn them both a new one for forgetting to put the seat down in the downstairs powder room, "but on the upside, she's horny as hell. Ready to go day or night. And I love it. I mean, it's like we're teenagers again. But it's been five months now, and she's still insatiable. I don't get more than three hours of sleep a night! And during the day -- "

"I think this qualifies as too much information, Cyke," Logan said, blanching and backing away.

"Don't tell her where I am!" Scott called after him. "I just want to spend some time with my babies."

Logan's chuckle floated back to him as he rolled back under the chassis. He knew the other man had ratted him out when he heard the click-click of Jean's heels on the cement a few minutes later.

"Scott," she said, her voice honey-sweet.

"Jean," he said warily, once again coming out from under the Porsche.

"I haven't seen you all morning."

"I've been busy working on the cars."

She cocked a hip and gave him a smoldering look that never failed to make him hard. He bit his lip as she said, "You're working too hard, honey. You need to take a break. Come upstairs with me."

"Ah, I really just got started, Jean. I have a lot to do."

She pouted. "I'd make it worth your while." And she sent him images of herself naked and lying on their bed, touching herself the way she wanted him to.

"Maybe later," he said faintly.

"Scott," she began, but he cut her off.

"Look, Jean, we can have sex any time. But these cars all have to pass inspection this month and I need to do this."

"You ever think that maybe my engine needs a little tune-up?"

"I gave you a 'tune-up' and a 'lube job' this morning!" he exclaimed, remembering the frantic bout of oral sex they'd had upon waking up, followed by more sex in the shower.

"Hmph."

She stalked away and he exhaled in relief. It wasn't that he didn't love her and didn't want her anymore. He just needed to get through the minor repairs on the cars so he could spend time with the bike. He hadn't done a thorough check on it in days, and he knew Logan had been taking it out at night.

And then there was the Blackbird.

His adored Blackbird had been damaged slightly on the last mission, and he still felt the need to check up on her every few hours. He also needed to make sure that neither Logan nor Hank had decided to do anything to her without his knowledge and permission.

Jean never had to worry about Scott straying from her -- he was far too interested in playing with his bike and his jet to have the time or energy to spend on another woman. And while he loved her new all-sex, all-the-time attitude, it was wearing him down. He wasn't eighteen anymore, and he needed sleep. He still had to teach every day, and fight evil mutants once or twice a week, not to mention keeping thirty or forty teenagers in line, at least half of whom would be jacked up on caffeine at any given time. A man could only do so much before he was spread way too thin.

He'd finished with the Porsche and was checking the oil on the Jeep when she came back, dressed all in red, as usual, and smiling a wicked smile.

She leaned against the Jeep and hiked up her skirt, baring one creamy thigh, encircled with a red lace garter.

Again, she flooded their link with images of the two of them making love on the hood of the Jeep, her head thrown back against the windshield, her legs wrapped around his hips as he drove into her. She was wearing nothing but the garters and stockings.

He blinked and swallowed hard.

"I'm not wearing any underwear," she whispered.

He gripped the grillwork tightly, running his eyes over her generous curves. Five months along, she was just starting to show, the curve of her abdomen only adding to her appeal. Her breasts were fuller and her face had the serenity of a pre-Raphaelite Madonna. She was altogether too gorgeous to be legal, but he had things to do.

"Jean, I swear, when I'm done with the cars, I'll come upstairs and we can--" he broke off, sending some thoughts of his own back across the link, including something involving handcuffs and a feather. She was very ticklish.

Her mouth opened slightly, she licked her lips, and her face flushed in response to the images. "I'm holding you to that, Slim," she murmured throatily, and then left him. He was mesmerized for a moment by the rhythmic sway of her hips as she walked away.

He heaved a sigh of relief and went back to work, confident that she wouldn't bother him for another couple of hours at least.

He was in the cockpit of the Blackbird the next time he felt her presence.

She was not happy.

"Scott, you said you'd be in after you were done with the cars. That was *three hours* ago. Do you know how I've spent that three hours?" Again, the image of her pleasuring herself filled his mind, pulling him away from recalibrating the navigation system. "I need you."

The buttons on his shirt began unbuttoning themselves as she plunked a bottle of Hershey's chocolate sauce down on the co-pilot's seat.

"Jean," he said faintly as she strode towards him. With a flick of her mind, the shirt slid off him and his belt was unbuckled. "The jet takes a lot of work. You know that. The Air Force had a crew of fifty ready to work on the SR-71 at any given time. Here, it's me, Logan, and Hank--" The rest of his words were lost as she hiked up her skirt, straddled him and pressed her lips to his.

Her tongue thrust into his mouth and the feel of her sex pressing against his groin made him moan.

His hands slid up under her sweater to remove her bra so he could cup her breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly and she sighed, grinding down against him, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

She pulled back slightly and, using her telekinesis, poured chocolate sauce all over his chest, and then commenced licking it off, purring like a kitten as she did so.

His slid one hand between them and stroked her slit, which was already soaked from her arousal. With the other hand, he dragged her mouth back to his, and licked the chocolate off her lips.

She rose up slightly and -- zip -- his jeans were undone, and her hands were stroking his hard cock.

~Can't wait,~ she thought, nipping at his jaw as she guided him into her wet passage. He pulled her sweater up over her head so he could suck at her nipples as she rode him, their desire and love mingling over the link as they saw themselves through each other's eyes.

He could feel her reach the pinnacle and for one long moment they hovered there, savoring the heady feeling of knowing she was going to come. And then her orgasm flooding over both of them, and her muscles clamped around him, pulling him so deep he wasn't sure where he ended and she began.

Her climax triggered his, and he felt himself flowing into her, body, heart and soul.

They were both gasping for breath as they floated down from their mutual bliss. Scott cupped one hand over the swell of her belly, and over the link he could feel the life of their son.

Jean nuzzled his neck, licking off the bits of chocolate she'd missed earlier, and then murmured, "We're not finished by a long shot, Slim. You owe me." And he saw her handcuffed to their bed as he used a feather to drive her insane with desire.

He hugged her tight against his sticky chest and said, "That's one debt I'll happily pay off forever."

End

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