X-Men: The Summers Drive

Scott Summers walked through the Xavier Mansion lost in thought. The science was conclusive; everyone from Reed Richards to Bruce Banner agreed. The biggest threat facing mutants wasn't Sentinels or Inhumans, it was falling birth rates.

That was true across the board, of course, but while flatscan humans could survive going without middle children, such a decrease would be catastrophic for mutants. The X-gene, once so resilient, so inevitable, would be starved out of existence like a flame without air.

What could be done about it? All the arguments against child-rearing that applied to humans applied to mutants: climate change, economic downturn—a world that seemed to become less suitable for humanity the more they changed it to suit them. And then there were the mutant arguments. Countless doomed futures lying in wait. Government pogroms. Uncaring superheroes and hateful supervillains. It wasn't a world Scott would choose to bring a child into. But that was the irony. To get the better world they hoped for, they would have to have faith the world would get better... instead of acknowledging that it wasn't.

Such were the dark thoughts he was grappling with—whether having children was an act of survival or a curse handed down—that he didn't notice his quarters were occupied as he came into them. While usually he would've registered another's presence immediately, possibly even sensed it with well-honed instincts before his hand touched the doorknob, now it was not until the door was firmly shut behind him that he realized Emma was inside.

She was in the bedroom, a little off from the foyer immediately through his front door, and he felt her in his thoughts, the psychic equivalent of a tap on the shoulder. Time for bed, she cast to him, and Scott felt his groin answering with growing hardness. He walked into the bedroom and saw that she was dressed down, for her, wearing a white jacket with an ermine fur collar and nothing underneath, a pair of those ironically virginal white panties, and then nothing for her miles of long legs except her high heels at the end. She sat in an armchair in the corner.

Tessa was on the bed, wearing not her usual uniform, but a black corset, black panties, stockings and hose. The neutral expression on her computerized face made her trim, sleek body paradoxically more arousing, the thought that she was dressed like that, offered up like that, and yet blithe, challenging anyone who viewed her to replace her stony expression with one more lustful—Scott knew it should've killed his arousal to find a third party in his bed, but it only grew, seeing Tessa kneeling there, awaiting his orders. Or perhaps Emma's.

"Emma?" he asked. "What's going on? Did Tessa spill something on her own bed?"

He'd never been much of a joker and Emma overlooked his attempt now.

"I'm being practical," Emma trilled, making it sound like a sexual position. The obvious irony: however practical Emma was, it was only to please herself. "You're looked upon quite highly in the community, you know. Xavier's a hypocrite. Magneto's a maniac. Wolverine's a killer. You're the only real hero we have."

"So?" Scott asked, biting back a reflexive need to argue. He was no hero. He had a job.

"If you start making babies, others will catch on. And you would make a very good babymaker—so to speak. Isn't that right, Sage?"

Tessa spoke her, her voice slightly rough with electronic undertones. "The villain Mr. Sinister is right to be so obsessed with your genes, Scott Summers. Your variant of the X-gene is significantly more advanced than the usual chromosome. It has the potential to create vastly powerful mutants. In laboratory tests, it counteracts several debilitating birth defects. With even slight gene therapy, it could make any of your descendants immune to the Legacy Virus, the Terrigen Mist, and various other genetic threats to mutantkind. Theoretically, the Summers X-gene could've been bolstered by contact with the Eternals or experimentation by the Celestials..."

"Yes, Sage, that's enough," Emma interrupted. "You get the point, Scott. Not only would you knocking a woman up inspire other mutants to start families, but your children would be all quite the Second Coming. As frustrating as Rachel and Cable can be at times, I'd rather have more X-Men like them than, oh, say Beak."

"This is your way of telling me you want to have kids?" Scott asked.

"Me? Oh, God no." Emma ran a hand over her bare belly. "Imagine ruining this figure with a pregnancy. I went to an Ivy League school; I think not. But Sage here... we became quite good friends in the Hellfire Club. Yes, she was only there to spy for Xavier, but while she may have been an X-Man in her mind, her body was another matter."

"You want me to fuck her?" Scott asked, hardly able to believe it.

"For starters," Emma said. "I know a great deal many women who could do with breeding—top-quality women, you understand. Impeccable references, so to speak. Not bad-looking, either. If we're to do this, after all, we can't have you go around thrusting into just anyone. You're not Gambit, after all."

"Thanks," Scott said laconically.

"You're welcome," Emma said sincerely. "I do this only thinking of you, of course. But I will help out where I can. That's the way you like to do it, isn't it? As a team? Sage, enough posing. Present yourself."

Turning around, Sage dropped onto all fours, showing Scott her ass. The panties were thin enough not to conceal a single pubic hair through their nylon mesh. Not that there were many of those on Tessa's shorn sex. Emma had clearly prepared Tessa for him as eloquently as she would an arrangement of flowers, a three-course meal, or an exhibition at an art gallery. He had no doubt that Tessa would prove as scintillating a sexual partner as Emma herself.

But despite all he and Emma had been through, and the steadiness with which he regarded the constant push and pull of their relationship, he wondered how smart it was to give into her here. Her reasoning was entirely sound, Emma once more voicing the thoughts he was still turning over unspoken in his head, but was it wise to let her call the shots? He thought he caught a sparkle in her eyes, an ironic gleam, as if she were daring him to dispute her decision-making... or perhaps asking him to.

He knew how powerful a Summers child could be, but both times, that child had essentially come from him and Jean. It was that kind of inevitability that fostered such inadequacy in Emma, made her lash out at times, feeling that she was inherently unlovable and that he was destined for Jean. Perhaps, despite her chilly words, having a child with her would show her how much he cared for her... and Emma only wanted him to insist on her being his mate.

Scott could've laughed. He'd been called upon to make a seemingly infinite number of tactical decisions in his time: why should having a child prove any different?

A. Show her who's in charge. Mate the White Queen

"Oh, Emma," Scott chuckled, his voice rich with irony. "Surely you don't think little Tessa here can compare with you. The White Queen."

Emma froze, brows knitted in confusion. "Whatever do you mean, my love?"

"I mean why would I want Tessa when I can have you? Fuck you? Come inside you? Make you pregnant?"

Emma shook her head, laughing nervously, for once flustered. "But Scott... I told you... my figure..."

"It'll make those tits of yours even bigger," Scott said, reaching out to haul her to her feet. "I thought you'd go in for that."

"But I told you to fuck her," Emma insisted, looking a little desperately at Tessa.

"I'm leader of the X-Men, 'my love'. You don't tell me what to do."

Just like that, Scott was pulling Emma through their suite, her tiny efforts to resist utterly futile. Helpless, she was dragged into the bathroom with him. He threw open the medicine cabinet. Its mirrored door swung out to show Tessa, still kneeling on the bed.

"Your birth control," Scott said. "Throw it out. You won't need it anymore."

Ironically for the ice queen, Emma was all fired up on the outside, but warm as a summer day on the inside. Scott could see it in her eyes—a delighted gleam that he could discern no matter how hard she tried to keep up her act of smug superiority. As he'd surmised and, indeed, hoped, Emma wanted him to choose her, wanted him to make her his mate in the most certain terms imaginable, and most of all, she wanted him to do it this way, her way, not with candles and flowers, but rough, hard, fast.

Diamonds couldn't be broken, it was said. Scott would put that to the test.

"Make me," Emma challenged.

Scott grabbed her by the throat, all while Tessa watched, her computerized eyes recording every detail. Scott wondered if that exhibitionism—a combination of voyeurism and sex tape—was the real point of Emma inviting Tessa here. He didn't care much either way. As long as he was onboard with Emma's plan, he'd have to get comfortable with other women in the bedroom sooner or later.

He squeezed Emma hard, not enough to truly hurt her, but letting her know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't kidding around. This game was being played to win. "If you're too scared to be fucked yourself, then safe word already."

Despite the game, despite the pain, Emma grinned. This was more than what she wanted—it was what she needed. To open herself up and be truly vulnerable, she needed the freedom only a mask offered. It was no wonder she had become a superhero. It was the only way her fetish could get any kinkier.

"If you want to play rough, I can play rough." And that was the last acknowledgment she gave that this was anything but him taking what he wanted from her.

I love you, she teeped into his head.

Scott smiled back at you. Love you too, he replied in kind. Then dug his thumb into her jugular vein. My little whore.

She slapped him. Hard. His cheek burning, Scott shoved her backward. She twisted about, her high heels slipping between the bath mat and the tile floor. She caught herself on the shower curtain and the bath faucet, accidentally turning on the tap, water thundering down into the tub.

"You're going to get it now," Scott said, his visor burning like a demon.

"Fuck you!" Emma spat, trying to get up. Scott put his boot on her back, pushing her down so that her throat was against the rim of the tub. She gurgled as she was choked. Keeping the pressure on, Scott undid his belt and worked his fly down.

"Tessa's watching, Emma. She sees everything. She's going to see how I fuck cockteasing little bitches like you."

Then he was kneeling behind her, holding her head down so that her face was lowered into the tub. She could see her own reflection in the water, her face flushed and straining. Even more humiliatingly, she could hear Scott hum in approval as he inspected her ass, revealed by how she was bent over the bathtub. Her white panties gloved the curvaceous ass she was usually so happy to tempt him with, its elastic hems slicing across the soft flesh of her backside. Scott ripped them away, leaving her bare ass and wet pussy on display. Emma even felt Scott shift his body to let Tessa get a good look.

"I'm going to fuck you like this every night," Scott whispered, his voice hot and urgent in Emma's ear. "Until you have the good sense to be knocked up."

Emma grunted, not sure whether she felt more humiliation or anger as Scott's monstrous erection slammed into her pussy. She could see reflected back at her how her face contorted as she took his cock. Usually he was gentle. Usually he gave her time to get used to how much of it there was. Now he was letting her know just how big it is, and she would never take its size for granted again.

Scott thrust into Emma's slick passage, even her body taking him with mixed emotions. Tightening to keep him out, but sucking at him when he was inside. He thrust into her with savage lunges, burying his cock to the balls with each drive. From the first stroke, he let Emma know she was being fucked.

Emma bit her tongue to keep from screaming—Scott wasn't hurting her, exactly, but the intensity was so much more than she was used to. Usually, their lovemaking was all about her pleasure, Scott doing everything he could to satisfy her. This... this wasn't even him gratifying himself. He was showing her that he owned her, that his violent strokes had free rein of her pussy, his balls slapping against her creamy thighs painfully, as if punishing her for daring to suggest otherwise.

Emma saw her face in the water and didn't even recognize the reflection. The pain was one thing, but this was... this was irrevocable. She was his. This baby wasn't just the future of mutantkind, it was their future. A flag planted in occupied territory, a Summers child in her belly to let everyone know that she was his and he would never let her go.

Such a thing should've been consummated with romance and pet names, all the greeting card shit that both of them had no time for, but Emma so much preferred it like this. Fire and ice. The fire of Scott's raging desire, and the ice of the drive with which he practiced it. She had no doubt that, game or no, Scott would be as good as his word. She could look forward to these domineering fucks until the day her womb gave in where the rest of her already had, accepting his mastery over her. She felt like the White Queen again—sitting on the right hand of a worthy White King at last.

Emma screamed—the sheer intensity of the fuck shooting up from her cunt, through the womb Scott sought to conquer, up into her throat until it was blasting out of her mouth. And as she vented the painful feeling, a deliciously warm pleasure grew inside her too. It was like she was being penetrated by two cocks. One staggering her senses with immense, painful thunder, the other matching the first's strokes with growing ecstasy.

"Fuck me," she breathed, her voice stirring the water under her. "Please fuck me!"

"You're beginning to figure out what that cunt of yours is for, huh?" Scott asked, deliberately goading her, ramming his member all the way into her sex until it seemed impossible for her pleasure to dwarf the ramrod pain—yet somehow it did. "It's not for you... nhh... not for your damn sex toys... hhg... your dainty fingers... it's for this fucking prick!"

"Yes!" Emma heard herself say, with a voice quite unlike herself. "Yes, fuck my cunt!"

Scott let out a low laugh as he stopped thrusting into her, leaving a worn-out feeling in her sex of both pain and pleasure. And yet, no matter how much it hurt, she wanted him to keep going. She wiggled her hips, trying to tempt him back inside her.

"It's not going to be that easy, Frost."

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, as girlishly as one of her students.

Scott pulled out of her, moving his cockhead to her tight little anus. Emma's eyes widened as she felt his engorged helmet pushing into an opening that seemed far too small to accommodate his prick—and he had amply shown her just how very big it was.

"As long as you're on the pill, you can't get pregnant," Scott explained pedantically, as if to a child—Emma's ears burned from his sheer tone, as if that were more of an offense than him being about to sodomize her. "If you can't get pregnant, there's no real need for me to fuck your cunt, is there? Not when your ass is so fucking tight."

He pushed into her, letting Emma know for certain just how tight she was. She panicked, tensing her muscles, trying to keep him out, but Scott wouldn't be denied. Slick with the lubrication from her cunt, Scott worked his cockhead into her asshole.

"It hurts!" Emma cried out. "Take it out!"

Scott slowly forced more of himself up her ass. "I don't think so, baby. I think I'm gonna be in this tight little hole for a nice long while."

"UHHH!" Emma howled as he shoved his cock in deeper, always deeper. "Christ, please! You're going to split me in half!"

Scott fucked into her, harder and harder, giving her nice long thrusts so she could really feel herself being impaled. Emma's eyes rolled back in her head. She was helpless, utterly fucked, dominated to the point that all she could think about with the pain.

Scott forced her head into the bathwater, and with her underwater, he thrust his cock all the way into her ass.

Emma's screams bubbled in the water. Then he pulled on her hair, setting her scalp on fire as he lifted her out of the way and let her breathe. No sooner had Emma gulped in air then Scott forced her back down, fucking her asshole once more, his rippling abs pounding against her plump ass. Scott felt his balls swelling with the hot load of cum meant to fill Emma's bowels, and he fucked her harder, forcing her head in and out of the water to match his thrusts, leaving her barely able to breathe.

Finally, Scott let her stay upright, just as he thrust the entirety of his cock into her anus. "And just think," Scott hissed in her ear. "You could have this in your pussy right now." The first hot bullet of his seed splattered into her bowels. "You could be coming like a good girl instead of getting fucked in the ass like a whore."

Emma had never known this pain. His cock was like a weapon as it forced its way into her rectum, stretching and forever altering her inner muscles. She felt faint, her vision blurry, sounds strangely deserted. And then she felt something new where Scott's cock was impaling her. Something wonderful.

"Oh Jesus," she moaned, hardly believing that this much pain could become something so sweet. She'd forgotten the claim Scott had staked on her body. How determined he was to prove he owned her, both her pain and her pleasure.

And as Scott's cum poured into her bowels, the pain gripping Emma slowly released her, letting itself be replaced by a fiery pleasure that was almost equally unbearable. But she loved it—loved being the focus of all Scott's attention, the sex object he had to claim. He might love Jean, but could he ever fuck her like this?

"Scott!" she grunted. "Scott!"

He ignored her lovelorn cries. "Take it, you fucking slut! Take it all!"

Emma closed her eyes as his seed poured into her like hot wax. It hurt, but it brought delicious warmth that spread all throughout her body, and she keened with agonized glee as it burned her flesh into an inferno. Her eyes flew open as she came.

Scott looked into the water while Emma orgasmed. From Emma's reflection, the look in her eyes, he could see she wasn't regretting this. No, she was more turned on than ever—imagining him cumming this much in her pussy. Imagining him getting her pregnant.

Finally, Scott pulled out of her. She slumped down on the bathtub, gasping for air. Kneeling down, his cum was pouring out from between her splayed buttocks, covering the feet she'd settled her ass on. Emma giggled and wiggled her toes in the proof of how thoroughly Scott had used her.

Scott picked her up, now gently helping her into the bathtub and turning off the faucet. Emma cooed as the warm water worked its healing magic on her battered body.

"How'd you like the game?"

Emma laughed lightly. The warm water was getting to her cunt too—filling it with aching want. "Not bad," she said. "But next time you should be a little rough."

Scott chuckled himself and started undressing. "Tessa? Any comments?"

Tessa responded in her chirping electric voice. "I noted that Emma Frost orgasmed several times. Her orgasms arrived more frequently in proximity to Scott Summers making demeaning comments on her sexual morality. From this, I can conclude that Emma Frost is a filthy slut. The evidence would also suggests she enjoys being Scott Summers' bitch, although it is possible that Emma Frost would experience similar sexual pleasure with any excessively sized phallus."