Emma Frost Finds Love

by Sixsnowbirds

Summary:

"Emma Grace Frost," Jean greeted in a mocking tone as the blonde bombshell entered the bedroom. She took notice of how Emma was dressed: skin-clinging white dress that was so short it barely covered her ungodly bubble butt, matching thigh-high stockings, and a pair of nude-colored stilettos to complete the all-too-fuckable ensemble. Emma looked like a walking fantasy, a real-life embodiment of desire. "Gotta say... Love those heels."

"Why, thank you, Jean," Emma responded with a sultry purr as she strutted past the bed where Jean sat cross-legged. "I would offer to let you borrow them, but I think they are a couple sizes too small."

The redhead smirked at the jab. "That's so kind of you, but I'm not big on borrowing things... That's really more of a you kind of thing, isn't it?"

Chapter 1: Heels

"Emma Grace Frost," Jean greeted in a mocking tone as the blonde bombshell entered the bedroom. She took notice of how Emma was dressed: skin-clinging white dress that was so short it barely covered her ungodly bubble butt, matching thigh-high stockings, and a pair of nude-colored stilettos to complete the all-too-fuckable ensemble. Emma looked like a walking fantasy, a real-life embodiment of desire. "Gotta say... Love those heels."

"Why, thank you, Jean," Emma responded with a sultry purr as she strutted past the bed where Jean sat cross-legged. "I would offer to let you borrow them, but I think they are a couple sizes too small."

The redhead smirked at the jab. "That's so kind of you, but I'm not big on borrowing things... That's really more of a you kind of thing, isn't it?"

Emma was about to turn and face Jean to fire off a snappy counter when her wrist was seized in an iron grip. With no warning or chance to react, Jean effortlessly flung her across the spacious bed with a single telekinetic flick. She let out an adorable little yelp as she landed, sprawled on her back.

The redhead got a kick out of that cute, dainty sound, but didn't let her amusement show on her face, instead opting for a more neutral expression. Her eyes were drawn to where Emma's skimpy dress had hiked up around those perfectly proportioned hips, revealing a thin white lace thong which did a terrible job of hiding Emma's smooth, clean-shaven pussy lips. Jean was absolutely in love with that pretty pink flower and the heavenly taste of its nectar. It was easily one of the most delectable treats Jean had ever indulged in.

"Oh dear, looks like someone is having one of those days," the blonde said as she slowly rose to sit upright.

Jean snarked right back as she telekinetically pinned Emma's body flat against the plush bedding, "Well, someone was supposed to be here over an hour ago."

"Someone is really not liking that her man is spending more time with someone else," the blonde taunted while Jean crawled over and settled on top of her. Emma could feel Jean's fingers slipping underneath the fabric of her thong, which sent an anticipatory tingle racing through her core.

"Please," Jean scoffed. "It doesn't bother me that Scott fucks some cheap whore when I'm busy, from time to time." The redhead then yanked on the tiny undergarment and ripped it off, discarding it carelessly somewhere off to the side.

"Must be difficult, having to constantly lie to yourself like that," Emma mused aloud. There was a glint of satisfaction in her icy blue eyes when she caught the way Jean's jaw clenched in agitation. "Do not fret, darling. I brought you a gift..."

Jean watched as Emma's fingers slipped down to that perfect pussy and parted the folds to display the load of white cream inside. She knew instantly that it was Scott's seed.

Emma smirked triumphantly. "Would you like a taste? I imagine you must miss--"

Before the blonde could finish her thought, Jean telekinetically spread Emma's slender thighs apart, extracted the thick dollop of cum, and splattered the sticky mess onto Emma's smug face. It coated the blonde's pretty little nose, her pouty lips, and most of her cheeks.

"Thanks," the redhead chirped. "But sloppy seconds are also more of a you kind of thing."

The look of sheer shock on Emma's cum-covered face was utterly precious. Jean wanted to remember this moment forever, so she captured it with her telepathy, committing it to memory for later. A juicy treat to be savored.

Emma opened her mouth, which allowed a string of cum to drip past her lips, "You are going to regret th--"

The rest of that threat was muffled by Jean's hungry lips pressing down on Emma's in a heated, passionate kiss. There was so much pent-up lust coursing through Jean's being that her entire body was thrumming with sexual energy. She smothered herself completely into Emma, their bodies melding seamlessly together, their tongues dancing and intertwining as if it was the last thing either would do. Jean could taste the familiar salty tang of Scott's semen mixed in with Emma's distinct sweetness, and she couldn't resist sucking every last drop from Emma's mouth.

Chapter 2: Faces

Something was off. Emma was kissing back, but not nearly with as much fervor or passion as usual. Certainly nowhere close to the fiery, frenetic intensity that Jean was bringing to their coupling. This had the redhead concerned, wondering if perhaps she had taken things a step too far with that stunt from a moment ago.

Jean pulled back, her face hovering over Emma's with a searching gaze. Her hand went to tenderly wipe the residual cum from Emma's lips, as she whispered in an affectionate purr, "Hey... Are we good?"

"Of course, darling." The words came out too quickly and felt rehearsed, as if Emma had prepared them in anticipation of being asked. Her eyes looked up to meet Jean's with a smile, a practiced facade designed to conceal the underlying truth. She shifted, attempting to guide Jean's attention away from further discussion, her body arching upwards invitingly.

But Jean refused to relent. Instead of following along with Emma's diversion, she leaned back and sat up straight on her knees, still straddling the blonde's midsection. "There's something bothering you. You know I didn't mean any of what I said earlier, right? It was all just part of the act. And I don't care that I have to share you with him. Because he may be my husband, but you are my one true love, Emma Grace Frost."

The words, while heartfelt and tender, did not have the desired effect. There was an undeniable twinge of hurt that marred Emma's porcelain skin, an unmistakable crack in that otherwise flawless veneer.

Emma took in Jean's earnest declaration, allowing those sentiments to permeate through, but ultimately, they were unable to extinguish the burning ache in her heart. She rolled her hips upwards, hoping again to redirect the focus. "I know, dear. Now, would you kindly stop talking and start putting that pretty mouth of yours to better use?"

"I'm being serious, Emma," insisted Jean.

"Darling," the blonde retorted pointedly. "I did not come here to have some silly conversation about your insecurities. I am here for a very specific purpose, and I suggest that you--"

A hard, swift slap cut across Emma's face.

Jean looked at the red hand print that was already showing on Emma's cheek in horror and disbelief. How did that just happen? The two of them were supposed to be having an intimate night filled with romance and pleasure. Not whatever this had become. "Oh Emma, I am so sorry... I don't know what--"

"No need to apologize," Emma interjected, her voice steady but carrying a distinct undertone of hurt. "It is a good thing to remember where each of us stand in all this."

"Emma, please..." Jean pleaded. "That wasn't me. You know that. I--"

"This arrangement has perhaps gone for longer than it should," Emma asserted as she moved out from beneath Jean.

"No... Emma..."

"No, Jean," Emma reiterated firmly, her tone significantly colder, an overcompensation. She then proceeded to rise from the bed and smooth out her disheveled dress.

"Wait, let's just talk--"

"I think we have done quite enough of that already," Emma stated curtly, already making her way towards the exit.

Jean felt the urge to use her telekinesis and prevent Emma from leaving the room, but quickly quashed the notion. Instead, she sat helplessly and watched her heart leave through that doorway, not knowing if this was just another tiff or the end of everything.

Chapter 3: Turns

After slipping into the powder room down the hall from Jean's room and cleaning up, Emma began the trek to the other wing of the mansion, to her own bedroom. To hide.

This felt... pathetic. And she hated herself for it.

She was doing everything in her power to suppress the emotions welling up within her heart, determined to make it to safety without crumbling into tears and without being spotted. This endeavor, however, proved increasingly difficult as she got closer to the center of the mansion, where students, teachers, and X-Men could be found in the common areas, going about their normal nightly lives.

"Emma," Piotr greeted with his heavy Russian accent from the dining room as the blonde hurried past in a blur. He looked confused when the telepath did not respond or even glance back.

Emma didn't want to be rude to Piotr, but every second out in the open was another second her carefully crafted composure could crack and shatter. So she pressed on, moving as swiftly and quietly as possible. Thankfully, the halls were fairly clear. There were a few people in the living room, but they appeared preoccupied with whatever movie they had on.

With the central corridor cleared, the last stretch was in sight. All Emma had to do was traverse down this last section of hallway, turn the corner at the far end, and then duck into her bedroom. Just a little further. Just in time too. Because Emma was beginning to feel her eyes misting over, and it was quickly getting harder to see clearly.

Then, from seemingly out of absolutely nowhere, Kitty Pryde suddenly stepped out from around that corner and Emma collided into her.

"Woah!" Kitty blurted in surprise, nearly dropping the soda bottle in hand. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. You in a hurry to--?"

"Katherine, slow down before turning," Emma snapped sharply, overcompensating with an extra icy edge to conceal just how emotionally fragile her heart was in that moment. She immediately regretted it. This was exactly why Emma had been trying so hard to avoid any interaction along the way. This was not how she wanted to treat Kitty, who has become almost like a sister to her.

Kitty recoiled, taken aback by Emma's unexpectedly biting reaction, which was especially jarring given how increasingly close they have become over their weekly tea sessions. It didn't feel right. She tried making eye contact to get a read on Emma, but Emma quickly averted her gaze away.

The sound of laughter erupted from where Emma had just fled, catching Kitty's attention. There were four students coming towards them from the main living room, having a jovial conversation, seemingly about the movie they had just finished.

"Emma, did something--?" Kitty attempted to ask, only to find Emma already gone.

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As Emma reached for the door handle to enter into the refuge of her bedroom, it opened on its own. She froze, startled and unsure. There was someone already inside. She tried to take a step back, to allow herself some distance to telepathically scan and assess the potential threat. However, as her weight began to shift away, a firm grip closed onto her upper arm and swiftly pulled her through the threshold and into the room. A yelp caught midway up her throat, unable to escape.

And before her already hazy vision could adjust to the sudden darkness of what should have been a safe haven, the door shut and she found herself pressed flat against it by the weight of the intruder. Her hands scrambled to push off and create separation, but the attempt was thwarted with ease. The intruder seized both of her wrists and restrained them overhead. It was as if the intruder knew her every move. Though, with the untimely blur clouding her mind and obscuring her sight, she was a shell of herself, nowhere near her usual formidableness. So perhaps not surprising that the intruder could subdue her so simply.

"Don't even think about it," the intruder growled into Emma's ear in a commanding, low voice. "No telepathy. No diamond. No resistance."

The voice was unmistakable. And the authoritative manner in which the intruder then bit into Emma's ear more than confirmed the identity.

"Scott..." Emma breathed out in a hushed, trembling whisper. A blend of relief, apprehension, and shame flooded into her heart like an unrelenting tidal wave, threatening to engulf her entirely. "You should not be here. This--"

His teeth sank down harder, making Emma wince and her train of thought falter.

"I was not done with you," Scott stated firmly, emphasizing the point by biting down on the blonde's ear a third time. This time, he drew a small bead of blood.

Emma let out a quiet moan as she clenched her jaw to hold herself together.

His teeth relinquished their grip. "And yet you left. Without a single word."

Emma swallowed. "Jean and I made plans for tonight and I was running late, and you were already--"

He cut her off with a harsh tug of her hair, pulling her head to the side to expose the length of her neck to him. "And who is to blame for that? Who was the one that showed up late? Hmm?"

"Dar--"

His teeth clamped onto her soft, delicate neck, and Emma instantly arched her spine, pressing up against his chest and letting out a stifled groan.

"You do not get to cut short my time," he asserted in a deep, gravelly tone as he released the bite, then laved his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks.

"You know I did not intend to," she murmured, feeling more vulnerable than ever, especially considering how exposed she already felt from what had happened with Jean. "I was held up with the new recruits. They were struggling--"

"So you make it up by staying longer," he interrupted. His hands slid down her body, along the hourglass curves that drove him wild, until reaching the bottom hem of that white dress. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it, making sure to let the fabric drag torturously across Emma's skin before finally pulling it completely off her body.

The skimpy dress was then dropped unceremoniously on the carpeted floor.

Emma tried to cover herself, feeling uncomfortably bare, despite having been fully nude before him countless times. But this felt different somehow. Perhaps it was because of where her mind was.

"Darling," she spoke softly. "Perhaps we could continue this after I have had a proper bath. It would not take long. I could--"

Scott's pointer finger slipped past the thin lace thong and into her tight entrance, drawing an involuntary sharp gasp. It didn't go far, stopping before it could go more than the second knuckle, but he knew it didn't take much for her to feel it. She had the tightest, most shallow pussy of any woman he had ever been with--by far. An incredibly arousing and unexpectedly adorable aspect of her body. Filling her to the hilt always resulted in the most precious, breathless squeak. There was nothing comparable.

"Scott--"

A second finger pressed against her folds, threatening to slip in.

Emma sucked in a weak breath, then slowly released it, trying to steady her already fragile state before daring another plea, "Darling... I... I do not believe I could endure--"

Then his lips descended upon her own, swallowing up every word and thought from her. The kiss was gentle, reassuring, and filled with affection. And Emma melted instantly, her entire body going slack as she allowed Scott to sweep her off her feet.

For the first time that long, exhausting month, Emma let her guard down and surrendered to the moment. Well, almost, anyways. A stubborn voice deep within the depths of her heart still refused to yield, holding steadfastly onto the cold, hardened walls that have served her for so long.

Scott's kisses trailed away from her lips and onto her slender, swan-like neck as he effortlessly carried her across the room and onto her oversized, ornate bed, laying her gently down in the center of the mattress. She looked ethereal. Absolutely divine. And it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to pounce on top of her right then and there.

"Emma," he said as soothingly as he could. "I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't realize... I didn't mean to..."

She shook her head and forced a small, unconvincing smile, "I assure you, all is well, darling."

"Emma..." His tone was filled with regret and concern. He knew better. He could see through her attempts at masking her emotions. "You've been crying."

"Have I?"

He nodded solemnly, his fingers gingerly brushing along the delicate curve of her cheek. "Did something happen between you and Jean?"

Emma quickly pushed down any feelings that had dared to rear their ugly heads. "Jean and I are fine. We have simply reached an understanding. Nothing of concern."

Scott frowned deeply, recognizing that look of guarded indifference in Emma's beautiful, icy eyes. "Please don't shut me out like--"

She interjected curtly, "Scott, I am not in the mood for a lecture tonight. Either take me, or leave and return to your wife."

"Emma... That's not why I am here. You have to know that."

There was a palpable silence hanging between them for several long breaths until Emma mustered up the resolve to utter a cold, hollow question. "Then why did you hold me against my door just a moment ago?"

"That's not fair," he protested.

Emma turned away, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in her eyes. "Life rarely is, darling."

Another prolonged pause ensued. The air around them grew heavy, fraught with unresolved tension and unaddressed wounds. The silence stretched on until finally Scott decided to try bridging the widening divide between them.

"I am nothing without you, Emma. Nothing. That's why."

Emma swallowed hard. It felt like she had been holding back a dam's worth of emotion all night and the strain was reaching unbearable levels. But she held on. Just long enough for Scott to turn away, get to the exit, wait for a response that did not come, and slam the door out of frustration as he left.

Notes:

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