Ecstatic Transformation

II- Cascade of the Clear, Taste of the Opaque

"You have to realise that a creation of life is a creation of death
Midnight ritual, so sensual
One-way trip to the heavenly bliss
Midnight funereal, so bestial
One way trip with my deadly kiss"

Particles of dust, visible in the slants of dawn born light that slipped through the cracks in the curtainaltzaltzed slowly in the slowly defrosting air, moving visible and then invisible in the half occupied bedroom. Invisible they passed over neatly folded sheets, and intermediately visible they passed over floor space, littered untidily with books, pieces of paper and other paraphernalia.isibisible once again, they passed over crumbled and toss-wracked sheets, a figure huddled beneath them, legs to chest and arms wrapped round, curled up against the cold and the world.

In the dual dark created underneath the tangled covers, Rogue dragged apart her eyelids, her body slowly stirring into resentful wakefulness.

Shedding the covers from her body, she stared blearily at the ceiling above, as it swam in and out of focus ever slower. The fabric of the bed rubbed against expanses of bare skin, all the sensations slowly rousing her Fee Feet sliding against the carpet, Rogue sat on the edge of the bed, her breath slow, as she tried in what she knew was in vain to stop her unfocused, blind lust, and focus on a solution, as she promised to herself she would each and every time she let her atavistic instincts take over.

Standing up abruptly from her bed, Rogue padded over silently to the curtained off window, peering through the gaps at a landscape painted white, undamaged by any human intrusion.

Turning away from the window, undecided still, Rogue looked at the bed of her roommate. At turns prudish and forcefully sexual, Kitty Pryde would have been glad to be away if she knew what her roommate had been doing, if she knew what condition Rogue was in.

Lying down on her at rot roommate's bed, Rogue spread her naked form over it, a slight smile dancing briefly upon her face as she thought of the hypocrisies of the one who should be laying there. Rumour was that she couldn't stand the sight of even a semi-naked female form before her, rumour was that she adhered to the falsified and spread myth of the absent female orgasm. Lie back and think of England, they said with derision. Lie back and think of mutant kind, as it may well have been.

Prudish schoolgirl, who tried to get off with any guy that got semi-serious, scaring a bare few, exciting all the rest. A girl too shy to ask guys she liked out, who had stashes of graphic malenogrnography hidden in her room, their access unknown. Tiny, inexpert gasps heard in the dead of night.

Sliding into a sitting position, Rogue brushed a hand fondly over the pillows that adorned the head of the bed. It amused her to think that Kitty's head would rest where her clitoris had frequently, in her absence, been so vigorously stimulated. That her cheek, her mouth, would rest where her roommate's sexual juices had dripped onto, miniscule amounts as they may be.

Standing, Rogue made the same decision as she had every day the Institute had emptied so. She couldn't risk that he would be the only one. If it were only they two here, she would tempt him as she had so dreamed of doing, and damn all the consequences she would suffer.

Slowly, unhappily, Rogue pulled on the pyjamas she had scattered on the floor in the night.

A pair of bare feet, padding softl the the carpet lain so recently, made their way up the sweeping staircase, and along the dormitory corridor. Further ahead, a door swung open, and another pair of bare feet emerged into the corridor. Both feet and owner stopped, dead in their tracks.

Her face a picture of undisguised picture lust and longing contrasted sharply, harshly, with the blank mask that he wore so often now, the flow of emotion and feeling hidden behind it's lifelike stillness.

"So you're up at last."

"At last? What time is it then?"

"Late enough to be of note."

"You're not telling me anything, Scott."

"I know."

Rogue stared at him, her breath sharp and shallow. Scott stared back blankly, perfectly controlled and poised.

"How's it of note?"

"That the Professor has already left to deal with some business."

"What kind of business? How long will he be gone for?" Rogue asked quickly, her words starting to run into each other.

"I don't know, and…I don't know."

There was a pause, a perfect moment of silence, poised on the edge of words.

"I need ake ake a shower." Rogue announced, tugging absently at the bottom edge of her top, her eyes never wavering from Scott's mask of a face, watching for anything at all.

"And?"

"And," There was a slight pause, allowing for muscles to move, and fabric to rasp against skin and hair, "I want you to join me."

"Wouldn't that be dangerous, untouchable one?"

"As if I care." Came the simple reply from Rogue, as she tugged away the scant remains of her clothes. "As if you care." Stepping forward, inches away from the unflinching Scott, she leant forward, whispered, "As if danger matters. As if claiming what you marked, what I want, is not important."

Turning away, Rogue said over her shoulder as she left, "It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be."

Scott's blank visor of an eye followed her movements until she disappeared into through the bathroom door. Then he turned, and made for his room.

Resting her head against the wall of the shower cubicle, her hair matted together from the stream of warm water, the brown streaked through in places with white, Rogue let her disappointment subside, if only for the moment.

Looking up, her eyes half closed, Rogue watched the cascade of water as it fell to impact on her face, to run in rivulets down her face and down her breasts, stomach, thighs.

Reaching blindly for the shampoo, she averted her eyes from the spectacle of the showerhead to focus on squeezing out the contents of the container into the palm of her hand, before putting it aside, and starting to soap herself up, losing herself in the automatic motions.

As foam clustered on her breasts, only to be washed away by the constant stream of water, Rogue sighed in blissful resignation. She never could just wash, as she knew so well, her thumb already tracing a path across a nipple already stiffening from the treatment of the water.

Rogue smiled ruefully. It seemed fate pulled her both ways. Abstinence and protection, or indulgence and destruction. Two great rules, etched in stone.

Choosing as she always had to take the middle way through the cracks, to indulge herself with her own abilities and those of no other, sliding her hand between her thighs, slipping a finger, then two, inside herself.

Leaning against the wall, spreading her legs for ease of access, Rogue let her cries ring out as she rarely let them, hoping against hope they would attract attention. Water ran across her eyelids, into her open mouth, as she shuddered at her own self-treatment.

Her eyes snapping open, Rogue stared upwards, slowly withdrawing the hand that had been thrusting inside her moments ago, reaching up to detach the showerhead, repositioning it between her thighs.

Falling to her knees, eyes half closed and mouth half open, Rogue let the cavalcade of fantasies, shudders and gasps overtake her.

Dregs of water swilled in the basin of the shower, slowly flowing down the plughole. The door to the cubicle lay ajar, partially marked out footprints, still damp, led to the open bathroom door, out into the corridor.

Water still running down her thighs, Rogue grasped the door handle. Shaking with lust, she paused for a moment. Then, gripping itd, sd, she turned the handle, and let the door swing open before her.

Laying casually on his bed, Scott inclined his head toward her. Only a slight tightening of the muscles on his face gave anything away.

"Scott. I want you." She breathed quietly, "I need you."

Scott said nothing, only sitting up as Rogue approached the bed, dripping water onto his carpet. Rogue reached up, brushed wet strands of hair away from her face.

"I need you. You must need me. You came to me first. You know."

"All I know," Scott said, speaking at last, shifting to sit facing her, "Is that we two are impossible."

"Impossible? Improbable." Rogue retorted quietly, falling at last to her knees in front of him. Neither moved or spoke.

"You came to me. I come to you now. Let me prove it." Rogue said, her voice a whisper, her hand stroking his leg. Try as he might, he could not repress a shudder.

"What is 'it'?"

"My lust. My love. Your lust…" Rogue whispered, her fingers on the zip.

"You've proven your lust. I've heard you scream out my name he nhe night. I know your lust already." Scott said, his voice wavering as Rogue worked the button to his trousers, before slowly pulling down the zipper.

"Then let me prove yours." She said in her final whisper, reaching her fingers inside his boxers, pulling out his rigid cock with her hand, pulling out his suppressed feelings with the skin-to-skin contact.

Taking him in mouth, Rogue ran her lips and tongue over his rigid cock, eliciting gasps from the once-impassive Scott, letting his gasps and shudders be her reward.

She heard his fingers rake the bed sheets, shuddering and reacting to her ministrations. There was no skin-to-skin now, but from what she had felt in the earlier, brief touch, she knew he needed this. He'd been holding back, as he always did. As she always had.

All too soon, Scott shuddered one last time, muscles contracting and releasing. Letting his cock fall from her mouth, Rogue swallowed once, twice. Then, standing up, she left the room, leaving Scott alone on his back, eyes gazing up at the ceiling.