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From her very first date with Peter, Jean knew that they were something special.
They just—clicked, in a way she's never clicked with anyone before, not really. She loved Scott while they were together, but it always felt like there was an imbalance between them. He saw her powers the way every other mutant saw her powers—as something wonderful, but ultimately something to be controlled and contained.
Peter doesn't see them that way, because somehow he gets it. He isn't a telepath, he can't hear and warp the minds of everyone around him, but with his speed, how fast he can go, he sees the world in a way no one else could ever dream to. He can live a lifetime in a millisecond, and it gives him a perspective that's unmatchable.
That's how Jean is, too. Not with speed, but...but when you can touch minds the way she can, feel them, hear every passing thought and emotion that goes through a person's head—there's no way to have an ordinary look on everything. And as much as Scott loved her, he would never be able to understand that.
But from that very first date, the very first time she sat down across from Peter and had a meal and watched him zip back and forth through the building and the city in the time it took her to blink, she just knew. She could see it in him. And he could see it in her. The pair of them, with immense power at their fingertips, so very different but one in the same.
It's why she can't let him leave her.
Distantly, Jean's aware that Peter's still talking. That he's explaining his decision, why he wants to break up, why this isn't the end of the world for either of them. He's telling her why, and when, and where he's going. He's making himself clear. But Jean can barely hear a word coming out of his mouth after that first sentence.
I want to break up.
There's a ringing in her ears. Her heart feels like it's going to pound out of her chest. No, he can't leave her, he can't. They—they're meant to be, as much as anything in this broken world is. They click. Does he not understand how rare that is? Does he not understand the world will never understand him, no one but Jean.
Peter has always been so much more at home in his skin than Jean will ever be. He's always been so bold, so settled, so sure of himself. Like his powers are just a fact of the universe. Like it's not something to be afraid of or controlled, just another piece of himself. He made Jean feel bolder, less afraid. Made her feel like what she was, was good, more than anything Professor Xavier ever told her.
And now he wants to—leave?
"No," Jean says, the word sounding like it's coming through water. Peter pauses in whatever he was saying, and his mouth slants sideways in the way she always thought was adorable but right now just aches because he's leaving her. "No, you—no. We'll figure this out. We don't need to break up."
He's still speaking. He's still saying things like it matters, like his reasons for wanting to end them matters. How does he stand it? How does he live with himself? They're meant to be! No one will ever understand him like she does!
No one will ever understand her like he does.
A buzz settles under her skin. Again, she says, "No."
This time, Peter goes still. He blinks slowly, lips parting without a sound. His mind, usually so active and vibrant, a place Jean loves to let herself get swept away by, is quiet.
It's—nice, right now. It lets her think without his pinball thoughts scattering her own.
"Sit down," Jean says, and though her voice shakes her tone is firm, and Peter follows the instruction without hesitation, his mind bending under her touch just as easily as everyone else's does. She's just...never had to bend him before. They've always fit so well together that there was never any need to change him. Why change him when everything he did lined up with her so perfectly?
Jean moves forward, cupping Peter's cheek. She lets him feel how much she loves him, draws on his own feelings of the same, and smiles when he leans into her hand. Yes, this is good. This is better. They don't need to fight. She can show him how well they fit. She will remind him, and he won't leave her.
Placing her hands on his shoulders, Jeans lowers herself to Peter's lap, straddling his thighs. They're perched on the edge of the bed, and it takes barely a flick of her power to lift them both up towards the headboard until Peter has his back against it and legs extended outward. More comfortable. Easier to move and balance like this.
"Jean," Peter says, voice slurring slightly to match his sluggish thoughts. It's almost unreal, to have her speedster acting in such a way. Always a million miles faster than all of them, but for five minutes he has to slow down and listen to what she has to say.
"We're perfect together," Jean says, rocking down against him, grinding in a way she knows he likes and likes herself, because they always fit. "You and me. Nobody else, remember? We can't count on anybody else. So stay with me."
She sifts through the molasses in his brain to pull forward his desire, his love. Fills him with it, consumes him with it, and Peter moans, head arching backwards as he begins to get hard in his pants beneath her.
"Yeah," Jean says breathlessly. "See? See how good we are?"
She lets his want flood her, too, feeding off of it, blood singing as she leans in to capture his mouth in a bruising kiss. She moans against his lips, shuddering, lust pooling in her gut. She finds herself clenching down around nothing, and lets her hands drop to Peter's belt, tugging it open with nearly desperate movements.
"Do you want me?" Jean asks, wrapping her hand around Peter's cock to pull it out.
She pulls the right answer to Peter's mind, too, and he obediently says, "Yes, so much."
Jean is breathing heavily. She soaks in his moan as she begins jerking him off. "Good. Yeah. Nothing has to change. We're perfect how we are, right?"
"Right," Peter agrees, expression going a little spacey. She ignores it, instead lifting herself briefly off his lap so she can shove off her pants and then quickly resettling in place. She grabs his cock and holds it in place, and then slowly sinks down onto it, biting her lip and moaning as he fills her up.
"Perfect," Jean groans, rocking her hips steadily to take him deeper and deeper. Her cunt aches with desire, and she pushes that into Peter, making him moan and arch up against her. Yes, yes, this is it. Now he sees, he has to see. They're too perfect. They fit too well.
She doesn't give either of them any time to relax once he's all the way inside, instead pushing herself up only to slam back down, crying out as sparks shoot up her spine. He feels so good inside of her, always feels so good, and she can't stop herself from riding him hard and fast, moaning as she bounces on his cock and shows him just how much he'd be missing if he decided to end this.
"I love you," she says breathlessly, dragging him into a sloppy kiss as she encourages his mind to thrust up to meet her, and he does. They move together in perfect sync; two people have never been as made for each other as they are.
"I love you too," Peter tells her, expression scrunching up, and Jean almost wants to cry because god, she almost lost this. Peter almost made a dumb, dumb mistake. But they're going to be so happy together forever.
"Good," Jean says with a grin, moaning as he hits the right spot inside of her. "Good, babe."
It doesn't take her long from there to come, and Peter follows her immediately over the edge with just a quick push from Jean in his mind. They tremble together, Peter's arms lifting to wrap around her as he feeds off of the loop Jean's trapped them both in, one of love and loyalty and lust and never-ending affection.
Jean wipes away all those pesky thoughts he had of breaking up, making it like it never happened, making sure he will never have a lapse in judgment like that again.
And then she basks in the safe, warm grip of her boyfriend, happy that she made him see her way. That she won't be alone. That she'll always have him, for as long as she wants him.