Jubilee was hella looking forward to getting her driver's license. Then maybe her own car. The X-Men were loaded, after all. Surely one of them could spring for something gently used? None of the boys she was interested in owned a car; most could barely get their hands on the family car. So where was she expected to lose her virginity? The park? Under the bleachers?
A car was more than just transportation. It would be privacy, comfort, and her debut as a sexually mature woman, long overdue. Nothing curtailed dating like having to wear a lame X-Men uniform.
But first, she needed a license. So she was eager to take her driving test. Perhaps too eager.
She settled behind the wheel and drove off okay, making sure that her jean cut-offs, already short enough to allow the white squares of her pockets out from under the hem, further rode up her slim, shapely thighs. She knew Scott was a stiff, but he'd never been hit with someone as charming as her before.
He didn't respond at all, his red sunglasses glazing right over her, making him look as stern and strict as a five-star general. Shame. He was pretty handsome, and tall as well.
He stopped looking stern pretty fast. Unfortunately, it was because he looked worried—like they'd really been
that
close to that parked car. And so Jubilee drifted a little ways out of her lane; it wasn't like there was any oncoming traffic to run into!
When he asked her to parallel park, she didn't even try. Like she said, you never had to parallel park at a mall, and where else would she be parking?
And c'mon, it wasn't like anyone was
on
the sidewalk...
"Pull over," Scott told her, and she did, mounting the curb with one wheel to leave the car lopsided.
"Did I pass?" she chirped, giving him the dazzling smile that never failed.
Scott shook his head. "If you're old enough for breast implants, you'd think you'd be old enough to know how to drive!"
"Hey, these are not implants!" Jubilee insisted, clutching her breasts inside their thin sleeveless tee, the bra revealed by the near-translucent white material so risqué that only having her yellow coat atop it made the look anywhere near acceptable to the prudes Xavier hired. "They're my secondary mutation!"
And her new mutant power was getting Logan to notice her, she thought happily...
"Is that why you were asking Emma where she got her boobs done?"
Jubilee gawked. "That is—how'd you know about that?"
"Emma tells me all sort of things," Scott said, with a queer half-smile. "But apparently she hasn't told
you
how to drive. Get out of the car. You're not taking the test again until you've learned a few lessons."
He got out with her, coming around the car to open the hood. Jubilee joined him, looking with bewilderment at all the parts inside. There seemed to be a lot more than just the engine in there! Oh, yeah, there must've been the gas tank too.
"Before you can drive a car, you have to know how to get a car running and keep it running. Why don't you name some of the parts in here?"
"Uh, the, uh—"
"Point them out as well, please." Scott crossed his muscular arms across his sculpted chest, his pecs revealed by his tight black shirt, his biceps revealed by the torn, abbreviated sleeves of the garment. He must've worked out a lot, Jubilee realized. "I'm sure if you've been paying attention in Forge's class, you'll at least be able to make an informed guess."
Jubilee bent over the engine block—not that she knew what that was—scrutinizing the car parts as if she were about to develop a secondary mutation for car repairs. "Oh, that's, uh, that's what powers the windshield wipers!"
"The carburetor?" Scott asked.
"Yeah, the carburetor! I knew that!"
"And where would you go to change the oil?"
"Uhhhh... duh, you'd just go to the gas station and put more in the tank! You must think I'm a real idiot, Mr. Summers!"
Scott kneaded his temples. "How about you just tell me where the windshield wiper fluid goes?"
"Yeah, sure—easy!"
She bent further over the car's engine compartment, and Scott's gaze traveled up her bare, suntanned legs. Her cutoffs were riding so high he could almost see her underwear. And Jubilee, perhaps unthinkingly, squirmed and got them up just a bit higher. Now Scott could see where the crotch-band darted between her legs, to the side now, the back of the cutoffs swallowed up by the crack of her ass while the crotch pressed firmly to her groin. Her sex was on display now, uncovered by the denim cutting so tightly into her body that it slipped from her pussy entirely and instead pressed between her pubis and thigh. The reason he hadn't seen any underwear was that she was wearing none.
She might not've known how to drive, but she looked like she knew a lot of other things...
Scott grabbed hold of the back of her pants to pull her back, and Jubilee squeaked in automatic outrage as he jerked her back up, his hand momentarily pulling her pants away from her buttocks like she was hawking Coppertone. Biting her lip in sudden, fierce arousal, she was met by glacial indifference as Scott moved past her without a second look, slamming the car hood down with masculine force.
"Get back in the car," he said. "You still need to learn your lesson."
Jubilee's toes curled. She'd always had a thing for Logan—so rugged, so manly, dripping with experience and unchecked savagery and the barest moments of control. But she was starting to think Scott was a lot like that—violence and dominance and raw need seething away under tight control, even tighter than Wolverine's, his pretty-boy exterior not nestling a lack of testosterone but hiding an excess of it. She knew what to expect from Logan—knew what he'd do if she ever fully managed to tempt him. But with Scott, she had no idea. Only an inkling that she'd managed to stir his hidden lust and was left with no idea what she'd be the recipient of.
"What are you doing?" Scott asked, as Jubilee winded around to the passenger seat. The door was locked. "This is the driver's seat. This is where you need to know the controls."
Jubilee came around to his side of the car. The door opened in front of her. "You don't really think my boobs look fake, do you? No one thinks Psylocke's look fake. I think I could pull off a unitard too..."
Scott stared into the rear-view mirror as she approached—those almost unencumbered breasts jiggling with each step. Sometimes he liked having an excuse to wear sunglasses all the time. Like Emma had said:
And to think she assumes you're looking at her face.
