Queen of Two Courts 5 (Patreon)

Emma popped her mouth off Scott’s gleaming erection. “Scott, lover, I want your cum.”

He sat up a little, running his hand through her hair. “I can still hold it a while. You don’t want—“

“No. Let me have it. I just want to know you’re mine.”

Scott nodded and Emma sank her mouth down on his member. It already tasted different, a satisfyingly new taste to fill her mouth as Scott let himself go, allowing his cock to seethe and pulsate, swelling out with the seed about to explode onto her tongue—

Then it began to taste of her pillow.

Emma opened her eyes. She was lying in her own bed… not an idyllic cottage and not some torture chamber of Scott and Hisato’s. Her return to reality was bracing—one thing a telepath never had to worry about was discerning fact from fiction. She felt the outpouring of mundane thoughts from about the institute and walled her mind to them. But the thoughts inside her head were far harder to defuse.

Two dreams… each frightening in its own way. The first, a nightmare, but she’d taken undeniable delight in Scott’s punishing treatment. Because she believed she deserved it? Perhaps that was why her second dream was so intimidating—and then, in its own way, overwhelming. The pleasure she’d felt there had dwarfed the weird satisfaction she’d taken in being assaulted, yet her mind shied away from it. Ridiculous. She was the White Queen. She existed to be worshiped and craved and pampered.

But the second Scott had loved her.

Emma felt herself beginning to cry, a keen sense of longing inside her that she couldn’t sort out. It would be so easy to recreate that first dream, on her own terms, and to take a sadomasochistic delight in ‘punishing’ herself for all her misdeeds. But that second dream… she wanted it, couldn’t have, was intimidated by it. That feeling soured in Emma. How dare some stray neuron in her diamond-perfect psyche rebel this way!? She could have Scott if she wanted. She could have any man she wanted. And she could get far more out of him than a little oral sex. It was almost enough to make her pursue the man—just the thought that he was unattainable.

But, that rebel part of her mind insisted, you can’t get him by being your usual naughty self. Can you? You would have to tell him how you feel… you would have to really be forgiven, and not just convince yourself that you don’t care whether anyone thinks you’ve redeemed yourself or not…

The door to her quarters slid open. Emma jerked in surprise. She slept in the nude, not that she was concerned about baring herself. Her body was nothing to be ashamed of, especially after all the money she’d spent on it. But who would dare…

Scott Summers charged into the room, controlled but fast footsteps devouring the space inside, his hand at his visor, ready to fire. Emma jolted, wondering if he were about to attack her. It was a lively proposition. Perhaps that was why she sat up, her covers falling away from her chest, openly displaying at least part of her anatomy to him.

“Scott. You didn’t read my office hours, now did you?”

Scott was unapologetic at intruding upon her. It was impossible to read either embarrassment or appreciation in his visored eyes. Emma felt like peeking into his mind, but held back. It was a little arousing to wonder at the effect she was having on him.

“Hisato heard screaming from your room. She called me; I have command authority to override your privacy lock. I thought it might be a psychic attack.”

Emma looked at the hand that wasn’t ready to unleash an optic blast from his visor. It held an inhibitor collar.

“My. Strapping young men charging into my room at night with a collar for me to wear. If I’d known that was one of the benefits, I would’ve joined the X-Men a lot sooner.”

Scott lowered his hand from his visor. “You’re alright, then?”

Emma began to say something dismissive, but the words froze in her throat. She’d had two wet dreams: one about him raping her, the other about him making love to her. They’d both made her come. Her mind swirled between believing she didn’t deserve the punishment and believing she didn’t deserve the pleasure.

Fuck that, Emma snarled inwardly. If I want Mr. Morals, then I’m going to get him. And if he’s such a good judge of character, he’ll damn well know that I deserve to be his woman. And shit, fuck, bugger it all, I want to know what that cock tastes like, whether I’m giving him a blowjob or he’s fucking my face.

She threw the covers off herself, fully exposing her bare body to him, and had the gratification of seeing Scott’s jaw droop a little. No matter how much she showed off her body, men were never ready for the full effect.

“I don’t know, Scott,” she cooed. “I’d say I’m a fair sight better than alright, but what’s your opinion?”