I'm sprawled on my new mattress, scrolling through my phone when I find this weirdly addictive video about how they manufacture Poptarts. There's something hypnotic about watching the massive industrial rollers flatten out perfect sheets of dough, seeing the robotic arms squirt precise rectangles of filling before another machine slams the top layer down. It's almost midnight, but who needs sleep when you can watch breakfast pastries being born?
The floorboards in the hallway creak, but I don't look up until my doorway darkens with a presence. Magik stands there, blonde hair falling around her shoulders instead of pulled back like she usually wears it. Her intimidating black armor is gone too, replaced by a tank top and shorts that make her look almost normal.
"What's up?" I ask, not bothering to sit up from my sprawled position.
Instead of answering, Magik's eyes drift around my barren room, taking in the mattress on the floor, my duffel bag serving as a makeshift dresser, and the complete absence of any other furniture. When her gaze returns to me, there's something predatory in it, something hungry that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
She steps further into the room, those piercing eyes settling on my mattress with obvious disapproval. "You didn't buy sheets?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "Or a pillow or a blanket?"
I shrug, locking my phone and tossing it aside. "I was too lazy. I'll do it tomorrow."
Her lips curve upward, smile widening in a way that feels dangerous and exciting at the same time. She takes another step closer, and I realize how small this room actually is.
"Why don't you sleep with me in my bed tonight?" she suggests, voice dropping to a lower register that sends an electric current straight down my spine.
I push myself up onto my elbows, studying her face to make sure I'm not misreading the situation. "Are you asking me to hook up with you?"
"And what if I am?" Her accent thickens slightly, making the words sound even more enticing.
I sit up fully, suddenly very aware of my heartbeat. "I'm not looking for a relationship."
She scoffs, the sound somehow both dismissive and amused. "Neither am I."
Before I can say anything else, she's crossed the distance between us, offering her hand to help me up from the mattress. I take it, surprised by the strength in her grip as she pulls me to my feet.
"I have to be on top," I say as I stand, the words tumbling out before I can think better of them.
Magik's face shifts, a grimace flickering across her features as she tilts her head. "What are you into? Subby girls?"
"No, it's not that," I say quickly, feeling heat rise to my face. "I just... I've got a lot of baggage. My parents were pretty messed up and I've never been in a position where I wasn't..." I trail off, unsure how to explain a life time of abuse I'm still struggling with.
Magik's expression softens slightly, her eyes studying me with unexpected understanding.
"Oh," she says simply. She's quiet for a moment, considering this new information. "I guess I'll let that slide... for now."
The way she says "for now" sends a different kind of shiver down my spine, like she's already planning something. But there's no judgment in her voice, just acceptance with a hint of challenge.
"Come," she adds, tugging my hand toward the door. "My room has actual furniture. And sheets."
I follow her through the darkened hallway, our footsteps creaking on the old floorboards. The building settles around us with soft groans and pops, like it's getting comfortable with its new tenants.
Magik's room is on the third floor, and it's nothing like I expected. Instead of the gothic horror show I'd imagined for a demon queen, it's almost... cozy. There's a massive bed with actual pillows and what looks like expensive sheets. Candles flicker on various surfaces, casting dancing shadows across the walls. A few books in Russian are stacked on a nightstand.
"Nice place," I say, feeling awkward as the reality of what's about to happen sinks in.
Magik's eyes meet mine, a hint of mischief dancing in them as she lifts her hand and makes a casual flicking motion through the air. There's a strange tingling sensation across my skin, and suddenly my clothes are just... gone. Not torn away or removed, but vanished like they never existed. Hers too. The abruptness of it makes me gasp.
She stands before me completely naked, and I can't help but stare. Her body is a perfect balance of curves and toned muscle, sculpted by countless battles. Scars trace across her skin like a roadmap of survival, each one telling its own story. She's beautiful in that dangerous way that makes your heart race with both attraction and a hint of fear.
Magik doesn't say anything, just watches me with those hungry eyes, letting me take her in. The candlelight flickers across her skin, making the moment feel surreal.
Then she's moving, reaching for me with surprising gentleness. Her hands grasp my shoulders as she pulls me down with her onto the bed, positioning herself beneath me just like I'd asked. The mattress is soft, the sheets cool against my skin, such a stark contrast to her body, which radiates heat like a furnace.
"I knew I wanted you," she says, her accent thicker now, "from the moment I saw you on that boat." Her hands slide up my back, nails lightly scratching my skin. "Taking all those bullets without flinching. The way you healed. The way you fought." She smiles, teeth gleaming in the candlelight. "Such a beautiful show you put on for us."
I can't help but chuckle at that. Only Magik would find someone getting shot repeatedly attractive.
Her patience clearly has limits though. She reaches between us, wrapping her fingers around my cock with confident precision, guiding me to her entrance. I'm shocked by how wet she already is, my tip sliding easily against her slick folds as she positions me.
"We barely know each other," I point out, though my cock is clearly not concerned with this detail.
Her smile widens, something wild and untamed in her eyes. "That just makes it hotter," she purrs, then wraps her legs around my waist in one swift movement.
She pulls me into her with startling force, her strong thighs locking around me and driving me deep inside her in a single thrust. We both groan at the sensation, her tight heat enveloping me completely, my body filling hers.
"Fuck," I gasp, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity.
Magik arches beneath me, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow like a halo that completely contradicts the devilish look in her eyes. "Move," she commands, her hands gripping my shoulders.
I start thrusting into her, finding a rhythm that makes her gasp. She meets each of my movements with her own, hips rising to crash against mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. I thought I was supposed to be leading this dance, but Magik, she's like a force of nature beneath me, wild and untamed. Her legs tighten around my waist, using her strength to pull me deeper, controlling the pace despite being underneath me.
"Magik," I moan as she clenches around me, the sensation almost overwhelming.
Her eyes flash with a hint of dangerous. "Call me Illyana," she commands, her accent thick with desire. She reaches up, tangling her fingers in my hair and pulling me down to her.
Our lips crash together, hungry and demanding. The kiss is primal, raw, almost violent in its intensity. Illyana bites my bottom lip hard enough that I taste copper briefly, and when I pull back slightly, she's staring at me with those predator eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.
"This," she breathes against my mouth, rolling her hips in a way that makes me see stars, "this is what mutants should be doing."
I can barely think straight as she moves beneath me. "What's that?"
"Not struggling," she gasps, arching her back as I hit a spot that makes her entire body shudder. "Not hiding." Her nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake that quickly heal. "Just connecting."
She pulls me in for another kiss, as she stares directly into my eyes. There's something intimate about it that goes beyond the physical, like she's looking straight into my soul. It should terrify me, but instead, it just turns me on more.
"Harder," she demands, digging her heels into my lower back.
I comply, driving into her with more force, watching as her eyes flutter closed for just a moment before snapping back open. She refuses to miss a second, cataloging every expression that crosses my face. Her hands are everywhere, in my hair, on my chest, gripping my ass to guide my thrusts.
Her hand rises toward my throat, fingers spread like she's about to grab hold and squeeze. Something primal triggers inside me, a flash of my mother's face, her hands around my neck.
I react instinctively, batting Illyana's hand away with more force than I intended. "No," I say firmly, my voice harsher than expected.
Illyana's eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across her face before settling into something like understanding. "No choking?"
"No choking," I confirm, not breaking rhythm as I continue to thrust into her.
She studies me for a moment. "Fine."
Relief washes through me as she accepts the limitation without question. No mockery, no demands for explanation. Just acceptance and adaptation. It's strangely comforting.
Our bodies find their rhythm again, the momentary tension dissolving into something even more intense. Illyana's breathing grows ragged, her strong thighs squeezing me tighter with each thrust. I can feel her getting closer, her inner muscles beginning to flutter around me.
"Don't stop," she commands, her voice dropping to a throaty whisper. "Right there, just like that."
I maintain the exact angle and pace, watching as her composure begins to crack. Her head tilts back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, her blonde hair wild against the pillow. The candlelight catches on the thin sheen of sweat covering her skin, making her glow like she's otherworldly.
"Jack," she gasps, my name sounding exotic in her Russian accent. "I'm…"
Her back arches dramatically, lifting nearly off the bed as her climax hits. I feel her pulsing around me, powerful contractions that seem to go on and on. Her eyes lock with mine, refusing to close even as pleasure overwhelms her. There's something almost defiant in the way she maintains that connection, forcing me to witness every second of her vulnerability.
Feeling her clench around me during her climax sends me over the edge. The pressure builds inside me like a dam about to burst. "I need to pull out," I gasp, trying to withdraw before it's too late.
Illyana's legs lock even harder around me, keeping me buried deep inside her. "No," she commands. "Warriors finish inside."
I couldn't fight her grip even if I wanted to. My resistance crumbles as waves of pleasure crash over me. I moan loudly, unrestrained, as I empty myself deep inside her, my hips jerking with each pulse.
"Yes," Illyana hisses, her eyes blazing with satisfaction. "That's right. Give me all you have, Jack."
I'm writhing above her, completely lost in the sensation. Nothing has ever felt this intense. It's like every nerve ending in my cock is firing at once, concentrated in that single point where we're connected. Pure ecstasy courses through me, making me tremble.
She pulls me down into a fierce kiss as we ride out our climaxes together, her body still pulsing around mine, drawing out every last drop. The kiss is gentler than before, almost tender despite its hunger.
"It feels so good," she whispers against my lips, her breathing ragged.
I can only nod in agreement, overwhelmed by the sensation of being completely enveloped by her heat, feeling myself filling her up. I don't overthink the moment. I just let myself feel it, the connection, the release, the strange comfort of being with someone who doesn't want more than I can give them.
When our breathing finally slows, Illyana releases her vice-like grip on my waist, allowing me to roll to the side. I collapse next to her on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as reality slowly filters back in.
As I catch my breath, thoughts of Jubilee suddenly flood my mind uninvited. The way her face lit up that first day at Xavier's, how she practically bounced with excitement when we met. And then our first time. She accidentally almost blew my head clean off.
I close my eyes, the memory of her headless body still fresh despite everything that's happened since Peru. God, I miss my friend so much.
"You are something else, Jack," Illyana says beside me, her voice pulling me back to the present. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest.
"Thanks," I mumble, staring up at the ceiling, feeling a million miles away despite the warmth of her body next to mine.
Illyana props herself up on one elbow, studying my face with those penetrating eyes. "What's wrong?"
I sigh, turning away slightly. "Nothing I want to talk about right now."
She doesn't push, which surprises me. Instead, she just nods, her blonde hair falling across her shoulders as she settles back onto the pillow beside me.
We lie there in silence for a while, the only sound our breathing gradually returning to normal. The candlelight casts long shadows across the room, making everything feel dreamlike and distant. I can still feel the echo of pleasure humming through me, but it hasn't chased away the emptiness.
"Do you think you could go again?" Illyana asks, her voice husky with want.
I stare at the ceiling, considering her question. My body's already responding at the thought. Another round of mind-blowing sex with this dangerous, beautiful woman won't fix what's broken inside me. It won't bring Jubilee back. It won't erase the memory of her blood on my hands. It won't quiet the doubts about leaving the mansion, about Emma, about anything.
But it'll feel good. For a little while, at least, I can lose myself in sensation instead of drowning in grief.
"Yeah."