Emma Grace (white_diamonds) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-12 20:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, emma frost (white queen), scott summers (cyclops) |
Who: Scott Summers and Emma Frost
What: Getting to know each other and sex
Where: A hotel room
When: Friday night
Status: complete
Rating: R for glossed over sex
Scott lounged in the big, oversized bed. He should pinch himself, but this wasn’t a dream. At least not like the ones he’d been having. None of them had the attractive blonde woman next to him. Although he had this niggling feeling that he kept ignoring for its potentially unpleasant implications.
There hadn’t been any sleep, and he wasn’t tired, nor was he willing to let her escape so easily this time. Even if it meant tiring her out. He was a man, he’d take the hit. The sacrifice. And what a sacrifice it was!
Maybe she’d get around to talking, if she was languid enough.
Languid certainly was the right word for how Emma felt. Enjoying the feel of a thin sheet just barely wrapped around her nude body, Emma exhaled quietly and enjoy the afterglow. There was something about Scott that was likable, with or without sex thrown into the equation. But with mischief in his eyes and a contented grin on his face, he seemed all the more easy to enjoy.
There was a brief moment where she felt oddly conflicted, knowing it was probably just best to go and not give him the wrong idea about this relationship. But then she realized she didn't want to leave. Emma decided quietly that the line had to be drawn at sleeping together - she simply wouldn't spend the night even if he asked.
After appearing lost in thought for a brief period, she grew focused. The soft comfort that came after sex melted away and she felt a lovely sort of rejuvenation settle over her. "Tell me," she said suddenly, "and be honest. Were you a quarterback in high school? Do you hail from the Midwest?"
He wouldn't ask, he knew enough to. If she wanted to say, he simply wouldn't say no if she brought it up. It was an enjoyable afterglow. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been with a woman and enjoyed the afterglow like this without a large amount of awkward.
Her question caught him off guard. He hadn't expected that. It was almost rather cliche.
Scott smiled thoughtfully, "I was in ROTC, not football, but I did grow up in the midwest." One out of two wasn't so bad?
"You have this look..." Emma lazily trailed her fingertips across his shoulder and down a bicep. "Very wholesome." It would have been an insult in any other setting. "No sports at all?" Her question was playful. She wasn't sure she could see Scott in the military. There was something that seemed unjaded in him.
"Very wholesome?" Is that really not an insult? It almost sounded like one but her tone was wrong and there didn't seem to be any malice in her eyes. So he pretty much let it roll over him, "Clubs. Civil rights, equal rights." He paused, then added, "Baseball."
“I mean... you could sell something,” Emma said. "They could use your face to sell things." She studied the lines of his face. Gently, she brought a hand to his face and put enough pressure on his chin to make him turn his head to the side. "American Eagle. Maybe Bennington." She lowered her arm and smirked, feeling pleasure in having guessed his athletic background.
"Why did you get into the military?"
"I don't know. I wanted to serve, I guess. Lead." He frowned, "I wanted to lead, to do some good. My dad was Air Force, a pilot."
His eyes searched her face, studying it, "It sometimes felt like the only option I had. I couldn't afford a good school."
"Unfortunate." Emma said this with no hint of guilt on her face or in her voice. She'd led an especially enchanted life, and though her family had never been easy to live with, she knew things for her had been easier than it was for others. Still, she couldn't bring herself to feel bad about her upbringing. "Is your father still alive?"
Emma shifted comfortably so that her arm was brushing his. Her gaze was focused on his torso and face. She spoke frankly, with a lack of consciousness of how such a question might hurt.
He shook his head, his fingers brushing her hand. "He was killed when I was a kid. His plane crashed because of a mechanical failure."
It was easier to answer than he thought he would be. The question still hurt though. He tried not to show it.
"Oh." Emma could sense the hurt more than she actually saw it. "I'm sorry." She realized that not everyone had the relationship with their family that she did. She could respect loving a parent, though she didn't quite understand it. "Your mother?"
"Still alive." He chuckled, "She probably had a royal freak out when I was injured. I pretty much kept the family together after dad died. Helped her raise my brother. The little brat."
Alex was still a brat, as far as he was concerned.
"How noble of you," Emma said.
Scott grinned at her, “Sometimes you find that circumstances thrust you into things whether you want them to or not. I think that's where I got a taste for leading. I know its where I got a taste for equal rights."
"And why is that?" she asked. She supposed it would probably come from a poor background. If she'd been raised in such circumstances, it might have been the same for her.
"I watched too many friends go through hell because of where they'd been born, or who their parents were, or the color of their skin or whatever the hell was in their pants." He shook his head, "I didn't have it that well but I had it better than some of them."
"Hm." She might have felt awkward, but it didn't really show. At any rate, there wasn't much for her to say because Emma had absolutely no experience with the less than well off.
What Emma had seen growing up was that money couldn't buy happiness and it'd made her utterly bitter about the human existence. Growing up in a household where people simply tolerated one another, seeing families around her suffer from pettiness, she expected that all people were like this, cruel or greedy or evil. "Interesting," she said after a moment of thought.
He'd felt a flair of anger at the injustice. It was deeply personal, more deeply than it really should be. At least his family was anything but petty. Perhaps that’s where he got the optimism from.
"Interesting?" All that and all she could say was interesting? "Am I getting optimism on you?"
"What should I say instead? Shall I lament your sad childhood and those of your friends?" That seemed worse. Far more insulting, if nothing else. She shrugged lightly. "That wasn't my experience. I didn't know anyone who couldn't afford the latest set of designer shoes." She bit her tongue before she admitted that hers was at least half a family of Republicans.
"No.." A hard expression crossed over his face for a moment, then passed away, "You shouldn't say anything if you don't mean it, anyway."
He'd prefer her to be sincere, rather than insincere, "So you grew up privileged."
She laughed quickly and quietly, not sure if she imagined him emphasizing the word privileged. Emma was amused by how his mood turned and turned back. Perhaps this conversation would be good, she thought. Maybe it'd make Scott open his eyes about her. "Yes, I did," she nodded. "I thought it was fairly obvious."
"Just pointing out the obvious," He replied, shifting a bit to face her more square on. It was easier to study her face and her posture that way.
He smiled at her, "If I had a problem with it I wouldn't be here."
Scott reached up and brushed some hair out of her face.
Emma, for her part, seemed amused. She let Scott touch her and she let him play with her hair all the while considering the dangers of allowing such things to happen. Maybe it would be best if she just left. And yet she didn't.
"Are you looking for work? Beyond pool sharking, I mean."
"Yes. I'm waiting on some phone calls but I don't expect those until next week." His hand trailed down her shoulder, to a breast, and then down to a hip. It was rather difficult to resist touching her. She was glorious!
"Some community organizing work, canvassing, that sort of thing." He had ideas for more efficient and effective canvassing! How boring.
With a practiced casual stretch, she managed to break free of his touch. "How exciting," she said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. "Do you get signatures from people on the street?"
Scott chuckled, "Among other things. Not very exciting work, but important." Maybe not as important as protecting the species, but really, that was just a dream.
"Although it can be exciting, especially in more dangerous neighborhoods. There's also awareness campaigns. The other job I'm waiting on a call from involves hands-on work with poor kids." None of it paid very well. But it might be fulfilling. He watched for her reaction. She was a bitch, but she hadn’t pissed him off yet, not really.
Emma honestly didn't care about the community. More often than not, she'd rather let people up to their own devices. But, when he mentioned children, she remembered wanting to help some poor homeless boy on the network. Nothing had come of it, but Emma probably would have opened her door to the little urchin. And probably would have been disappointed by his behavior, but that was neither here nor there.
“You're a regular Mother Theresa, hm?" she said, smirking. There was no sharpness in her voice and she lacked judgement about his choices.
"I'd like to think I'm better looking," He replied, grinning back at her. He appreciated the lack of judgement, even as part of him wanted to MAKE her care, "There are jobs that I'd get better pay at, but I'd hate them. I don't think I could do an office job, for example. I'd be good at it, but I'd rather pull my own teeth out." And that was the truth!
"As long as you can pay the bills," Emma shrugged. Just as he couldn't see himself in an office, she couldn't see herself dealing with people, trying to get people interested in topics they didn't care about. Of course, Emma often couldn't see herself as anything else than her own boss. And that of as many others as possible.
"Yes." Scott nodded his head, "Sometimes you have to do things you're not proud of, just to get food in your belly. I'd like to make enough to not feel like I'm struggling, at least. Its not something anyone should have to experience." It was a kind of stress that he wasn't sure he could accurately describe.
And he wouldn't mind being his own boss. He liked to lead, to organize. Turn everything into a battlefield strategy.
"You feel very strongly about this, I can tell." Emma simply nodded. She couldn't quite help but feeling a bit strange talking like this. It was rare of her to even acknowledge situations worse off than hers and she didn't much like to consider that the man she was sleeping with was scraping by. She sighed quietly and shifted slightly in her spot.
It didn't take Emma sitting naked with a lover to feel uncomfortable, but getting into lower class issues made her feel awkward.Emma is a terrible person
Scott could tell she was uncomfortable, so he decided to change to a conversation that she'd probably be more comfortable with; talking about herself. Which would be a burn if he felt dickish about it.
"What about you? Have you thought about what you plan to do next? And don't tell me that there's nothing you can do. A powerful man like your father has probably pissed off enough people in his life that he can't close every door that’s open to you."
She relaxed somewhat at his question, shaking her head lightly and raising a hand to her face that raked quickly through her hair. "I don't really want to talk about that dreadful business again." A pause. "I am tired of thinking about my family. Or working." She had the luxury of not really needing to stress about it.
"Then what do you want to think about?" He rolled onto his back, propping his arms behind his head, "What does Miss Frost do for fun?" Well, besides pick up a casual lover for a chat and naked fun times. Scott was genuinely curious.
"What do I do for fun?" Emma repeated, quietly chuckling. "Well," there was a glint in her eye as she let her hand trail along one of his thighs, "You have some ideas." A pause. "Beyond that? I do things with Jean, typically. I shop. I travel. I read. Sometimes I destroy men for the fun of it." She teased.
Scott took in a sharp breath, because her fingers were marvelous. He smiled at her. Yes, he had some ideas. Not all of them were even that conventional.
"I dated a Jean, once. Nice woman. Was a little awkward, ended in food poisoning." He chuckled, "What do you like to read?" He didn't peg her to be entirely the trashy romance novel type. Maybe she indulged, he didn't know, but she was intelligent. He was really curious as to what she read.
"You dated my Jean," Emma laughed. "She told me all about it. You're unlucky," she teased. The topic of Jean hadn't come up before with Scott because Emma hadn't really given her best friend much thought while entertaining handsome men. She realized it'd been a little unfair to not bring her up sooner, but figured if nothing else that it was fun to tease him about it.
"I like any number of genres," she said in reference to his question. "I have a room full of books at home." A pause. "I especially like poetry. Gothic romance. Current mystery novels. Boring ones on philosophy." Emma liked being well read. Just wait until the memories started coming in!
"Small world, then." He smirked at her use of 'my' Jean. It was kind of cute, in a possessive sort of way, and gave him a bit of insight into her personality when it came to people she really cared about.
"Trashy romance novels?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes seemed to light up at her choices. Brains were sexy. This was definitely not your average dumb blonde. But then, he already knew that. Braaaains
"Oh God, no." She rolled her eyes. "If I was really interested in pornography, I'd just watch pornography. Or have some sex."
Scott laughed. Suddenly he was curious about what sort of porn she'd watch, "How long have you known Jean?"
Which really had nothing to do with porn, unless you invoke rule34.
Emma pushed a bit of hair out of her face. "Since we were children. We went to school together and then high school and then we remained close after that." Jean was Emma's best friend, possibly her only real friend and it tended to show in small (or large) ways. "She's far closer to me than my family ever is or will be."
"Family isn't always the one we're born into. Sounds like she's more of a sister than any real siblings you might have."
It was actually kind of sad, to Scott. What kind of messed up parenting lead to such things?
"Not all of my siblings are terrible," Emma admitted, almost surprising herself with her candidness. "One of them certainly is. Adrienne has always been... jealous. I'm just prettier. And probably smarter." She said this with a self-assurance that bordered on cockiness. "Cordelia left California years ago. I think she draws tattoos on strangers. I never really understood her." A pause. "I was fond of Christian, but he left, as well. I cannot blame him."
She appeared thoughtful, but the turned her attention back to Scott. Shifting, she said, "Jean and I just went on vacation together to the middle of nowhere, Montana. Poor dear has bad taste in a number of things so she decided that taking a trip to a cabin up north."
Prettier and smarter. He could almost believe it, she said it with such cockiness. She was pretty and smart, so she was at least partially truthful, "Nothing wrong with tattoos. It’s an art form. Not one I'm keen to partake in, but still an art form."
Scott grinned, "You poor dear, forced to rough it. She must mean a lot if she was able to talk you into going. Are you sure you aren't married?"
Emma laughed. "I don't believe in marriage. If I did, though, I might consider it."
That was a nice thought. He managed to keep a straight face though. His next question was more out of curiosity, "You don't believe?" He wondered if her parents had ever pressured her on it.
Shifting in her spot, Emma decided to move forward. She slid toward Scott and then took a seat on his thighs, straddling him. It wasn't intended to be entirely seductive, but it might have easily been interpreted that way. "I don't really see the point, I suppose." A pause. "I don't really believe in relationships that don't revolve around sex. There's a dishonesty in dating or being married that I dislike. Things always end. And they usually end in disappointment. Better to spare yourself the trouble." She knew he was going to disagree.
Whatever its intention, he approved, at least for her positioning. She knew right, he did disagree, "There's only dishonesty if you let there be. Things only end if you let them."
Scott smirked a little at her, "We might agree to disagree, then. Maybe you're not cut out for it."
"I don't think most people are." She thought his view on relationships naive and wondered if he'd ever been serious with someone, but didn't ask for fear of coming off too brusque.
"I think you don't know if you are until you meet someone." He shrugged a shoulder. There'd been one, and it hadn't worked out all that well, but that hadn't dampened his optimism or romantic streak.
He rested his hands on her waist, "So you'll just be a crazy cat lady with Jean, when you're old? That's true friendship."
"That, or I'll die young and leave a beautiful corpse behind," she joked. Resting her hands against his chest, she leaned forward and planted a few lazy kisses along his throat.
Scott tilted his head back with a lot, throaty moan, "That brings disturbing mental images to mind."
"Should I stop?" She continued, teasing her way from the right to the left side of his neck. "Was I too disturbing for you?"
Judging by what was stirring, it wasn't too disturbing for him. Or perhaps it was what she was doing to his neck, "No...don't stop."
She stopped because she was a cruel tease. Smirking, she looked him in the eye. "Are you entirely sure?"
"I'm entirely sure," He replied, meeting her eyes. There was a challenge in his.
She found the look in his eye attractive. There was nothing Emma liked more than when someone could be forceful with her. Mostly because people typically didn't have the guts. "Alright," she said, voice silky. "But I should leave soon." She licked a quick line across his clavicle.
Shuddering, he wrapped his arms around her waist, flipping them around and pinning her to the bed beneath him, "How about later, rather than sooner?"
Pleasantly surprised by the sudden change in position, Emma arched up into Scott. She kissed him hungrily. "I'm not staying tonight," she murmured when they broke apart, her arms going around his back and her nails digging into his skin.
Scott kissed her again, driven by the nails in his skin. Not tonight. Okay. He wasn't going to force the matter. But he was going to try to give her ample reasons to reconsider.