A series by November

Chapter 2: I’m On Fire

"At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
And a freight train running through the middle of my head
Only you can cool my desire
Oh, I'm on fire..."
--Bruce Springsteen

The kiss, as friendly and benign as it was intended to be, burrowed down tight into her unconsciousness, spawning strange dreams that made her wake, breathless, and hover between sleep and waking.

She’d dreamed of Scott, of Logan, of Logan some more. She’d dreamt of swimming in a pool of milk, silky and opaque. She dreamt he’d returned in the early dawn hours, when the light was still blue and faint, and that he kissed her in the doorway. She’d dreamt of riding a tall horse, of standing in a stream, of running fast and free in nowhere space.

Now, in the early light, her heart was pounding. Kitty was gone, and Jubilee slept breathing softly across the room.

She sunk back into the bed and closed her eyes. The dreams were so real. In them she was kissing Logan, both of them naked, and then he was gone, moving away from her. He had called her name and tangled his fists in her hair. Then he was Scott, and all of it was jumbled up.

She tried to get back into that dream place, but the sunlight was insistent on her pillow.

She threw off the covers and put on workout gear. She didn’t bother with a shower. Her hair still smelled of last night, of clove cigarettes and freedom. She brushed it up into a ponytail and left the mansion in her running shoes.

The morning was still new, dew sparkling on the lawn, cool air giving her goosebumps. She started jogging down the trail into the woods, replaying the disjointed dream fragments in her head. It was not lost on her that she was running now and she had been running in her dream. She always did this when something was bothering her. In this case, she was bothered in a different way, edgy and restless and aroused and longing and frustrated.

She wondered why Scott had kissed her. She remembered the feel of his lush lips on hers.

She had no illusions of any kind of future between Scott and herself. Hiatus or no, he and Jean belonged to each other at a level as fundamental as their molecules. She wondered who else he’d been kissing during the "hiatus." She wondered, why her?

She ran a few laps around the pond, and returned to the mansion. Her nervous energy was dispelled somewhat, but arousal was still burning inside.

Jubilee was still asleep, Kitty was still gone. Rogue locked herself in the bathroom and ran the water hot. She washed out her sweat and the clove smell, hands moving slickly over her body, lingering, imagining.

She rubbed herself into a frenzy and let the water stream finish her off, biting her lip and wanting to scream a lover’s name.

It was Logan that she envisioned, moving naked above her, touching her everywhere, seeking his release inside of her.

When she came and bit her lip, it was him she imagined, throwing his head back and giving it to her, losing himself in his own feelings, and taking his pleasure from her.