Rogues

I woke up to my bed creaking, the bedsprings compressing and jostling me—such a perfect match for the little reactions as I rolled out of bed that it felt off not being in motion, but I wasn’t doing anything. The bed was moving by itself.

I popped my eyelids open in time to see a shape climbing into bed with my. I was too shocked even to scream, but not to move. Flailing, I retreated down the width of the bed, away from the side that the other body was getting in on. My bare hands resounded on naked skin and I braced myself for the rush of energy and memories I’d learned to associate with the feel of body heat…

But there was nothing.

Whoever I was suddenly sharing a bed with was stunned, but not stunned speechless. They squawked and backed up, groping their hands upwards—I half-expected them to bring a knife down, only their hands found the pullstring on the ceiling fan and ignited the four lightbulbs into life.

I went beyond shock, straight past it into abject disbelief.

It was another woman and she was me, Rogue. Oh, maybe a few years older, in her twenties instead of her teens. She’d filled out. Gained maybe a head of height, and grown her hair out until it came down to the waist, oodles of curls, the chic little skunk-stripe I had as big as a Vegas dancer’s feather boa on her. Her breasts had to be D-cups; and I thought I felt swollen sometimes. She wasn’t fat or nothing. That was a relief. Just lean and athletic and barely able to move without flaunting all those curves she had on her.

“Ah hell,” she groaned, “I’m in the wrong universe.”

I stopped gaping myself. “You’re me!

“Yeah, but don’t go sucker-punching me now, I ain’t here to take your place.” She looked around the lit-up room and saw my uniform where I’d dumped it on the couch. “Guess you’re an X-Man then? Good. Don’t think I could take seein’ myself in the Brotherhood—”

“What’d I want t’do with that mangy bunch of polecats, huh?” I demanded, on edge by this walking, talking ‘when I grow up I want to be a Victoria’s Secret model’ of me.

Rogue—what else could I call her?—laughed. “Yeah, good question, sister. I met another me that was X-Menning at your age. Course, she was just a student. Barely even knew how to fly the Blackbird. Did they call it that Blackbird over there? Anyhoo, if you’re all superhero ‘n shit, you must know about alternate universes, shifting timelines, all that possum poo.”

“Yeah,” I said, though I’d never come across it myself. But Kurt and Bobby had talked about universes where we were all evil and I’d listened in just in case my devil self had any good outfit ideas I could pilfer.

“That’s all this is,” Rogue told me. “No shapeshifting, no Invasion of the Body Snatchers, I just had a teleportation go wrong on me and ended up here instead of… here. Right bedroom, wrong universe.” She looked up at a poster I had hung of Kenny Chesney. “Hmm. Guess we got good taste no matter what universe we’re in…”

I suppose I should’ve had questions. Asked if there were any tips this older, self-assured me had. Maybe let me know if there were any plans of Magneto’s we should watch out for. But all I could bring myself to care about was the warmth still lingering on my hands.

“How come I could touch you?” I demanded.

Rogue looked at my sharply. “What d’ya mean, ‘how come’? Because our powers are the same, baby britches. They cancel each other out.” Then her eyes softened. “No. I suppose you don’t know that, huh? I figured it out by being to more damn universes than I could count. Even had one where me and Magneto were hitched up, if you could believe it.”

“Eww!” I let out instinctively.

“Yeah. That’s how I felt.” Rogue pinched her lips together. “I’ve… pretty much been able to get past the troubles my power brung, but I remember what it was like. If you wanna hold hands or something—”

No sooner had she suggested it then the urge was overwhelming. I was like a starving girl told that there was a buffet in the next room. I seized Rogue’s hand in both of mine, completely enthralled by the feel of human flesh not my own… and yet, it was my own. But who cared about that? I needed more.

Laying my face down to that wonderful hand I could freely touch, I pretty much feasted on it. Interlocking my fingers with it, then cupping it in my other hand, then kissing the wrist. Oh Lord, I could kiss! I could wrap my arms around this Rogue… circle my legs around her too… squeeze her like a stuffed animal.

“Down girl,” Rogue breathed. “I know you’re like a prisoner done made parole, but if you love on me any harder, I might get the idea that you’re more friendlier than you’re tryin’ ta be!”

I looked up at her. Found her eyes looking appraisingly at me. And I hoped to God she was thinking the same thing I was.

“What’s so wrong with that?” I asked. “If you can’t like yourself, who can you like?”

“Now, sweetpea—” Rogue began.

“You say you remember what it was like for me! Well, whatever way you found through it, who’s saying that’ll happen for me? This could be the only chance I ever get! And you’re pretty… so pretty… you think I’m pretty too, don’t ya? I’ve had too damn many boys staring at me not to have you like my looks too!”

“Lady, you make me think about having a goth phase of my own, that’s how good you look.” Rogue bit her lip. “But are you sure you wanna? You can only have one first time. Maybe, you and someone special…”

“You’re me from another universe and y’all is about the only one on the planet I can touch. What could be more special than that?”

Rogue’s lips worked together until she swallowed. “Okay then… lucky for you I know what I’m doing. This’ll all feel a mite funny—you’ll hafta tell me to stop if you think it’s getting t’ be more than y’all can handle…”

“I will,” I promised her, though knowing inwardly that there was no chance of that.

Rogue nodded, and I could pretty much tell that she knew I wouldn’t be saying no to her even if she wanted to put her whole fist up my pussy. “Guess I’ll just have to make sure you enjoy yourself. Lucky for you I’ve gotten t’ know what I like…”

The time for conversation was over. Rogue grabbed hold of me, thank God holding me as tightly as I feared to embrace her. She kissed me passionately. Our tongues met, passing from one mouth to the other.

It seemed like an eternity that I’d wanted to feel another person like this. Now it was here. I was so staggered by the enormity of it that I barely registered what it actually felt like. And I wanted to hold Rogue forever, commit every facet of this stunning experience to memory. Our bodies pressed tight together, our soft flesh billowing out as we strained to be one.

I pulled my lips clear of Rogue’s and found them instantly nuzzling her pale neck. “I’ve been wanting to do this—”

“I know. For so long,” Rogue interrupted. “Don’t worry. It won’t be a disappointment. And you’ll still enjoy it no matter how many times ya do it.”

I felt a fire climbing up me, starting in my sex and shedding its heat everywhere my nerves led. Every time I sampled Rogue’s sweet body with a kiss, the fever mounted inside me. I would never get enough of her; my only consolation was that if I was ever intimate with someone else, I would share some of her with them.

I kissed her neck, then moved down and kissed the tops of her cleavage, above the neckline of her low-cut tanktop. She could see that it was in the way, so she peeled herself away from me to strip, exposing her naked breasts to my kisses. I couldn’t kiss them yet, though. I had to gape at the beauty of her breasts, my breasts—we had the same big, pointed nipples.

So far I had been giving in. Not to her. To myself. She’d taken the initiative, but what’d that’d really done was give me permission to dispel all my doubts, all neurosis—every hang-up I could possibly have about sex. And after how nervy I’d been, my eagerness was enough to make Rogue giggle.

“You’re real brave when you let yourself be,” she said, kissing the top of my head as she spoke. “I need ta remember I’m like that too.”

Rogue’d had a laugh, but I wondered if she wasn’t just as anxious as I was. It must be nerve-wracking to want approval from the girl you’d been once. I slipped off the straps of my nightie and resolved to show her how much I wanted her. To be her, to have her—just as much of her as I could get.