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"to touch upon the surface, is not for
what it seems, I take away
my problems, but only in my dreams."
— "Brackish," by Kittie
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(She was sitting at the head of his bed leaning back against the headboard, a textbook open in her lap — except that she was also standing at the foot of the bed looking at herself. But that wasn't her, that was *Marie* over there on the bed — and she was Logan — except that she was also Marie, wasn't she? But that didn't matter right now, because she was on the end of the bed now, crawling on hands and knees like a stalking animal towards the girl in the nightgown studying and pretending to ignore her — *him* — whoever she was... And s/he came up beside Marie, reaching over to close the book firmly and gently pull it from her hands. And as she raised her head to meet his eyes, he set the text aside and raised his hand to her face. And there was no pain, no pull, and he slid his hand into her hair and pulled her into a kiss, warm and slow and deepening, and felt her ungloved hands sliding up his chest and then around his body, pulling him closer. And then she was pulling his shirt up and off, and he was reaching for the skirt of her nightgown and pulling it up, up, baring long lean lovely legs, curved hips, slender waist, rounded breasts, and then it was over her head and off and for whatever reason she hadn't worn any underwear when going to study in the bedroom of a man old enough to be her father (if not her grandfather)... And he was touching her, happily, painlessly, wherever he wanted to, waist and belly and breasts and thighs and silken furry dampness between... And she was reaching for the fly of his jeans and helping him skin them off quick as a thought, touching *him* wherever she wanted to, though where she wanted to was really only one place and it was exactly where *he* wanted to be touched, caressed, rubbed as hard as she wanted to do so... And then her arms were around him again, pulling him closer, between her parted thighs, guiding his hips as he slid himself into her, warm yielding silken smooth snug gripping...)
And Marie woke panting, feeling her heartbeat throbbing in her chest and even more strongly between her thighs, making it very easy at that moment to settle the question of exactly what gender she was, and therefore *who* she was. She put one hand wonderingly to her own breast, Logan still strong enough in her mind to delight in the feel of the soft mass in her palm, then lifted her head from her pillow enough to make sure that Kitty and Jubi were both sound asleep, before sliding the other hand down to ease that pleasant ache.
[Now, see, if you can get yourself under control, you wouldn't always have to be doing this *yourself*...,] came an internal voice, though at the moment she couldn't for the life of her have said whether it was Subliminal Wolvie or her own personal internal monologue. Didn't much matter, though, since Logan and Marie were both agreed on this point. [Hell of a motivation for *not* draining Logan dry whenever I touch him,] she thought to herself in her last clear moment before drifting back to sleep...
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