Asha Joy: Summum Bonum

by Amanda Sichter

Asha Joy stalked through the Mansion like a pouting, somewhat perplexed and decidedly snippy avenging angel.

Her question to all of the X-Men she encountered on her quest was the same, 'Have you seen Rogue?'

'Nope,' said Logan. 'Thought she'd be with you. Thought you two were joined at the glove.' He grinned at the rude gesture Asha threw at him as she stalked away.

'I'm sorry,' was Ororo's gracious response. 'I have not seen her for some time.'

'She's avoiding you,' said Bobby.

'Avoiding me?' Asha was not as startled as she should have been. Half the reason she was so irritated was that she had suspected Rogue had deliberately gone to ground.

'Classic Rogue technique,' shrugged Bobby in response. 'You obviously did something that gave her "emotional issues".' His eloquently rolled eyes pronounced the quotation marks for him. 'Last time someone bugged her, I got dragged across the country to the other coast. And then back. The girl seriously believes in avoidance.' He bit into the sandwich he'd just made, muffling his next words. 'Could you sort it out with her? I'm working out the school accounts right now. I really don't have time for another cross-country odyssey.' His plea was so plaintive, his expression so desperate that Asha couldn't help the smile that twitched her mouth, and Bobby grinned back at her in triumph.

'Sorry,' said Hank, but Asha was not surprised at that. Beast had been engrossed in whatever had evolved in the latest permutation of his personal war on Legacy and hadn't left the lab in over a week.

'She's in the Danger Room,' said Jean. 'Beating something up. Could you please talk to her?'

'Why?' asked Asha, suddenly suspicious, hiding it behind her usual expressionless mask.

'Because Rogue's been projecting unhappiness all week and you haven't learned to shield properly yet. You're so angry at the moment that you're giving me a headache.' Jean smiled somewhat wanly at Asha, pointedly rubbing at her temple. 'I wish you'd sort out what's wrong. I thought you were friends.'

'So did I,' replied Asha and stormed away.

'I thought we were friends,' she announced as she strode into the Danger Room and then ducked as something, possibly a computer-generated unconscious ninja, flicked over her head.

'Program over,' said Rogue and stood, hands on hips, in the suddenly empty Danger Room. 'Yah know how dangerous that is,' she scowled at Asha. 'Yah shouldn't come into the Danger Room when Ah'm training.'

'You won't talk to me anywhere else,' replied Asha, even more angrily. 'I thought we were friends,' she said again, biting off each word.

'We were. We *are*,' replied Rogue, with enough sudden sincerity that Asha knew the first answer was only a slip. Rogue looked down at her gloved hands and then up at Asha, her shoulders suddenly slumping. 'We need to talk,' she said softly, almost as if she was defeated.

Asha's eyes narrowed at Rogue's tone, but she nodded and led them both out of the Room.

* * * * *

Rogue's bedroom was a feminine dream in green, all frills and prettiness. Asha, full of pent-up angry energy, couldn't bring herself to sit, but Rogue settled down on the edge of the bed, carefully smoothing out the creamy green coverlet beneath her, carefully not looking at Asha.

'I'm going to be around for a while,' said Asha, her voice neutral. 'The project the Professor gave me is going to take me months, at least.'

'Ah know,' replied Rogue.

'I just thought you should know, now you're so desperate to avoid me. Apparently we're giving Jean a headache.' Despite the words there was no accusation in Asha's tone, just a calm acceptance.

It was that tone that seemed to shake Rogue and her fingers agitated at the bedspread, then clenched into a fist. 'Ah ain't avoiding yah,' she muttered.

'Then what are you doing?' said Asha. 'You leave the room every time I walk in, I haven't talked to you in nearly a week. I thought we were friends.' She returned again to the point she wanted to make.

'We *are* friends,' Rogue repeated and she finally looked up into Asha's eyes. 'Good friends. Ah nevah thought there was anyone in the world who could understand how Ah feel about . . .' she held out her gloved hand, curled it closed in a gesture of rejection, a negation of touch. 'But you do.'

Asha looked down at Rogue and sighed. She caught the wicker chair from beneath the bedside table, swung it around to face Rogue and sat down so their knees nearly touched. It was a deliberately provocative gesture, making it clear that she wasn't going to let Rogue run away this time. 'There was so much I wanted to talk to you about,' she said softly. 'I thought you might like to hear about my project, what I've found. I certainly wanted to tell you.' Her expression was still and calm but Rogue had come to know her well enough to see the hint of pleading in her eyes.

'Of course Ah want to hear about it,' replied Rogue and flinched back almost imperceptibly as Asha's knee brushed against hers. 'Ah know the Prof's been getting real excited about the stuff you're finding.'

It was the Professor who was responsible for Asha's continued presence in the Mansion. He normally did this by inspiring people - in Asha's case he had ended up hiring her. He had been somewhat disconcerted at Asha's flat, polite refusal to train as an X-Man. Despite all his attempts to cast the training as a necessary evil, to highlight the need for mutants to be able to defend themselves, the need for X-Men to defend the community against other mutants Asha had refused to even countenance the idea. It was the growing friendship between Asha and Rogue that had finally driven Xavier to try a different tack. He had observed the slow relaxation of some of Rogue's more obvious self/power hating habits and was not willing to throw away any opportunity to make progress with the mutant he most often felt he had failed. He also knew from Asha's thoughts that she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with staying at the Mansion rent-free and, as she considered, useless. So he had hired her, asking her to use her expertise in legal research to construct possible defences against a range of crimes that mutants were currently being charged with, in exchange for food and board. After she had presented her initial efforts, he had added on a reasonably sized stipend as well.

'There's some really relevant cases out there,' said Asha and her face suddenly lit up. Rogue knew how controlled Asha's emotions were, how rare it was for her to show them so openly, what a privilege it was to see her relax her guard. At that precise moment, though, all it did was make Rogue withdraw even more, her own emotions twisting inside her. 'There's about twenty cases I've found with people with sub-normal IQs committing crimes. There's been a few jury cases where they've been found guilty but they nearly always get over-turned by the higher courts. Well, unless you're in Texas but that's just Texas. Anyway, there's enough precedent there that I think we could use it with the Braddon kid, the one that's got done for blowing up half a mall when his powers manifested.'

'Why?' asked Rogue. ''Cause mutants are sub-normal?' It came out more bitterly than she had intended.

'Of course not,' said Asha sharply and frowned. 'It's the underlying principle. You can't be guilty of a crime that you had no intention of committing or ability to understand that you are committing, even if it results in damage. Braddon didn't even know he was a mutant when he manifested - how the hell was he supposed to know he was going to destroy a building? He caused damage but he wasn't responsible. The only reason he got convicted was because they managed to get a jury without a brain among them. And I think I've tracked down a connection between the jury foreman and the FOH. Braddon's going to get out on appeal - we'll make sure of that.'

'That's great,' responded Rogue, without enthusiasm. She had retreated back in on herself, turned herself away from Asha, whose frown deepened.

'Why are you doing this?' she asked, so angry again that it invaded her voice despite her best attempts to stay cool. 'Why do you keep shutting me out? I thought you wanted to hear about what I was doing?'

'Ah do,' said Rogue but she wouldn't look at Asha.

'Is it because I won't be an X-Man?' Asha asked. 'You can't respect me because I won't fight?'

'Yah know that ain't true,' said Rogue, anger flashing back at Asha. 'Yah know Ah don't mind yah not fighting. Yah know Ah respect you.'

'Then what is it? Why don't you want me around?' Frustration coloured Asha's words. 'You've told me how many times the Mansion's been destroyed. Are you frightened I'll get hurt or something so you've decided to drive me away?'

'Ah've seen yah hurt,' said Rogue and her voice had softened. 'We'd protect you.'

'You don't have to protect me,' replied Asha stubbornly. 'I can do that myself.'

A smile suddenly flashed across Rogue's face. 'Ah bet yah could, too,' she said. 'Tough girl.'

'Yah ain't kidding, sugah,' Asha replied in a passable imitation of Rogue's drawl and grinned back. 'I got enough practice at it. I can run away and hide with the best of them.'

Rogue's humour vanished as quickly as it appeared. She stared down at her hands again. 'So can I, sugah,' she said softly.

'So why are you running away from me?' asked Asha gently.

'Because,' Rogue shrugged. 'Yah know why. Why do you stay and try and work it out?'

'Happy childhood,' replied Asha quietly. She reached out, intertwined her fingers gently with Rogue's. It had become an almost unconscious habit between them, both relishing the contact, aware that there was one person they could always reach out to without fear of skin meeting skin. Gloves slid over gloves and Asha barely felt the flex of Rogue's fingers as she flinched away again. 'I never learnt to run away.'

'Your parents - your parents sound great,' Rogue said raggedly. It was the oldest of her wounds, the one that ached only in the darkest night. Her parents' rejection had damaged her in ways she barely accepted. She had run away from them and then had never really stopped. Asha's deep love of her parents, so obviously returned, and her tales of their happiness even in the unsettled violence of life on an Indonesian university campus had broken that old wound open again for Rogue.

'They're the best,' said Asha warmly. 'You know, I told my mother all about you. She'd love to meet you. She thinks it'll give her another insight into mutant powers and their psychological effects.' She rolled her eyes. 'Honestly, everyone's a study to her. I think my manifestation was a flip of a coin away from being her thesis.'

'She thinks she'd understand how Ah feel?' asked Rogue and her voice was suddenly bleak.

'No,' replied Asha. 'No-one can do that.'

'Except you,' returned Rogue.

When they had finally started to talk to one another, it had been one of their major topics of conversation. Trying to describe their powers, they had failed, as they always would, to make the other understand the actual sensation that occurred when they touched. Rogue had tried to explain how it felt to drink a soul, to have memories overlaid on your own, for each touch to yield a new mind, a new personality to subsume your own. Asha had no more been able to grasp the intricacies of it than Rogue had understood Asha's descriptions of a person's future being laid out before her, more than seeing, more than feeling, an immersion in another's self, the long despair of knowing that future could not be changed, no matter how distressing. What both had found, however, to their mutual surprise, was that it wasn't the psychological effects that had driven them to reject touch. It was sensory overload that had done it, their inability to cope with the fact that each casual brush against another in a crowd nearly crippled them with the flood of impressions, the confusing, terrifying feeling of a life coming crashing down on their heads. Both had been driven into the armour of gloves by the sheer impossibility of facing one more touch, one more life not their own overwhelming them.

'Sometimes I know what you're feeling,' said Asha. 'Not right now, I don't. I don't know why you're avoiding me.' She took a deep breath, let go of Rogue's fingers. 'Is it something that I did? What did I do?' It was almost a plea this time.

'It wasn't anything yah did,' replied Rogue. 'It's . . . We're getting -too close. There's just . . . Ah can't let anyone get that close to me. Ah can't explain it. Ah can't.' It was almost agonised.

'No,' said Asha, and though her voice was gentle it was inexorable. 'You have to tell me. It isn't fair to keep treating me like this and not even explain.'

'Ah know,' Rogue offered in apology. 'Ah can't . . . Ah'm so afraid that Ah'll touch you. That you'll be there in mah head and Ah couldn't stand . .. Ah can't touch you.'

Asha frowned again, smoothed it away without thought. 'But why me? You risk touching the other X-Men every day and you don't push them away. Why only me?'

'Not only you,' whispered Rogue to her fingers, not looking up. 'Ah push Gambit away all the time.'

'Why?' asked Asha.

Rogue closed her eyes for a moment, then lifted them up, looking directly at Asha with the innate courage that was so much a part of her, the daring need not to be misunderstood. 'Ah push him away because he's the only other one Ah've ever wanted to touch.'

Surprise flickered across Asha's face, was shut away, tucked far down so Rogue couldn't tell what other emotions were happening behind that mask. Asha's self-possession drove Rogue crazy, intrigued her in a way she had rarely been intrigued, made her want to know exactly how Asha felt. All that Asha came out with, however, was a faint, 'Oh.'

Rogue half-laughed, an exhalation of breath. 'Ah knew Ah shouldn't have told yah,' she said. 'Ah wanted too but . . . Ah knew y'all would be offended.'

'Offended?' asked Asha and Rogue was startled at how her voice trembled. 'Not even close. You're beautiful and desirable and I can't touch you either. Not really. Not the way you want. The way I want. Touch is . . .' She shrugged, stroked gloved fingers over Rogue's cheek. 'A passion-killer. Death and betrayal and tears and too much of somebody else's life inside my head.'

'Ah know how yah feel,' said Rogue, and bowed her head, suddenly aware of how close to tears she was. 'Ah nevah thought . . . Ah nevah thought Ah could feel this way about another woman.' She had been confused by her idle daydreams about Asha at first, then rejected her feelings with the stern admonition that she was definitely heterosexual and loved Gambit, really she did. Her subconscious had not been convinced, however, and had finally persuaded her of her changed feelings by offering a series of stunningly erotic dreams as evidence. It was that final recognition that had driven her to hiding in the Danger Room as often as she could, terrified that confessing would destroy their friendship, that Asha could never understand.

But Asha, as always, surprised her. 'I did,' said Asha, and smiled. 'It's not about gender. It never is. It's about comfort and need and loneliness.'

Rogue took in a sharp breath, anger flashing in her eyes. 'Is that what Ah am?' she asked. 'Just another needy victim?'

'Not a victim,' breathed Asha. 'Just - someone who needs human contact.' She caught Rogue's chin in her fingers, looked into her eyes. 'Like this,' she whispered and ran her fingers - gentle, gentle touch - over Rogue's lips.

Lips did not touch, no skin made contact, but it was a kiss, a heart-pounding kiss of astonishing intimacy. Rogue closed her eyes, savoured the sensation as a silk-soft hand explored the shape of her mouth, lingered over the fullness of her lower lip, traced the cupid's bow shape of her upper lip. Leaning forward she nipped lightly, grinned as Asha's fingers flinched backward and then pressed against her mouth, silencing her, although only for a moment. Rogue could not stop the groan that escaped her as Asha's other hand slipped down, traced the shape of her breast under her armour, dropped down to linger on her thigh.

The hand on Rogue's leg squeezed and she opened her eyes, looked into Asha's. 'Are you sure?' asked Asha. 'That you want this? That - that . . .' She trailed off.

'What else can we do?' asked Rogue, her voice shaking. 'This is - Ah can handle this.'

'What else can we do?' Asha repeated back to her and suddenly her dark eyes seemed full of fire. She reached out again, let her fingers trail lightly over the shape of Rogue's breast. 'Like I told Logan once, I've learned to be innovative.' Her half-smile, lascivious, intent, drove a spike of lust through Rogue's belly.

'More than this?' she asked, suddenly breathless. 'But Ah . . .'

'But you'll think and you'll pull back and you'll run away,' said Asha softly.

'Stop me,' whispered Rogue, and her fingers stroked Asha's cheek. 'Stop me from thinking.'

Fingertip stroke, the gentlest of touches, over her cheek, her throat, down into the hollow where her zip nestled. It slid down at the insistent tug of Asha's fingers and cold air splashed across Rogue's breasts, nearly brought her back to herself, nearly brought her to panic at the thought of . . . and then silk slid across the upper surface of her breast, slipped downwards over the lacy wispiness of her bra until it captured her nipple, teased it into hardness. A mouth, safe behind lace, caught the other and Rogue found herself breathless, panting, in a place where thought fell away into sensation. Her fingers tangled into Asha's hair, she held the mouth tight against her and wondered if this was what drowning felt like, letting the pressure build behind her eyes until she couldn't help crying out with the pleasure of it.

The sound seemed to wake Asha and Rogue whimpered slightly as hand and mouth withdrew. She opened her eyes at the touch of Asha's hands on her cheeks, found her face cupped within those hands, her eyes caught by Asha's gaze. 'Do you have a dressing gown? A peignoir?' Asha asked. 'The lighter the better.'

Rogue nodded. Her lingerie collection consisted of about half of the Victoria's Secret catalogue, the result of thwarted dreams, inexpressible longings and the Professor's platinum credit cards. 'Then find one,' said Asha, gently, when Rogue failed to move. Unwilling to break the dreamlike state she found herself in, Rogue moved slowly, but still it wasn't long before her rummagings produced something green and silken that would, when worn, skim down to her feet. Even Rogue's dreams couldn't overcome her inherent practicality about her power.

But Asha could. 'Undress,' she said and Rogue loosened claspings, undid zippers, slipped out of her stained armour until it puddled about her feet. For a moment she felt self-conscious, but she was aware how lovely her body was, the lush femininity that had long taunted the men around her, so she quickly found herself striking a pose, a model's look, all upthrust breasts and tilted hips. The quick, appreciative intake of Asha's breath was enough to make Rogue grin in triumph, until Asha said, 'All of it.' For a moment Rogue attempted to panic but her libido had firm control now and guided her hands as she slipped out of the two lacy scraps that had covered her. Her eyes never left Asha's as she stripped and the shameless, wanton enjoyment in Asha's face overcame the vestiges of her proper Southern upbringing. That look, that near worshipful, darkly wanting look, crushed the voice in Rogue's head that told her this was wrong. ~No,~ she whispered back to it, standing naked and proud and hiding the terrified trembling of her knees through sheer will, ~no, this is exactly right.~

Asha held out the peignoir and Rogue slipped into it, clasped it close to her in sudden shyness that made Asha grin. Asha slid back on the bed, patted the coverlet between her parted legs. 'Sit,' she invited and Rogue blushed as she suddenly understood what Asha was planning. Her upbringing had another brief skirmish with her libido, with her libido winning easily. She turned, plopped herself down with relief on the bed, knees primly held together, felt Asha's pants-clad legs against her own. The sensation made Rogue shiver and she couldn't help the sharp cry that slipped out as she felt Asha's mouth brush against her neck, protected only by the thick loveliness of her hair. Nor could she help wondering whether the cry was one of fear or delight as she balanced, caught between the two feelings.

'Ah nevah thought,' whispered Rogue, 'that yah felt this way about me.' Carefully, fearfully she reached down with her hand, stroked the slim length of Asha's thigh.

She felt the curve of Asha's smile against her neck. 'Idle daydreams,' Asha returned, echoing Rogue's thoughts. 'Nothing I thought I could share with you. I thought you'd run. I thought you might be able to tell and that's why you were hiding.'

'Ah can't tell anything with you, sugah,' replied Rogue. 'Yah hide it all away, tucked down inside yah. Yah drive me crazy with it.'

'I do?' said Asha. 'What about when I do this?' Quicker than Rogue could stop her, her hand slipped under the peignoir, opened it, trailed a silk-clad, silk-soft finger over the shape of Rogue's breast, circled the nipple until it hardened. Caught in the terror of anyone, anything, touching her bare skin, Rogue stiffened at the touch, but then relaxed as Asha's hand stayed still, continuing the gentle, erotic massage until Rogue finally sighed and slid loosely back into Asha's embrace.

'Ah think that drives me crazy, too,' admitted Rogue.

'Mmm,' replied Asha, too lost in concentration to reply further. Carefully she slipped her other hand around Rogue, caught her in a loose embrace, held her gently until she relaxed once more. Slowly, almost idly, she cupped Rogue's heavy breasts in her hands, soothed them gently with her fingers until she could slip them downwards over the slim lines of Rogue's flanks. Again Rogue stiffened, but Asha didn't take her hands away, didn't change the tempo of her gentle pressures and Rogue relaxed again.

It was when Asha's hands slipped onto her thighs, eased between them, gently pressured them apart that the final battle was fought. Rogue's libido crossed swords with her upbringing again, and then was ambushed by her psychological issues with touch. Her thighs tensed, wouldn't move, and she found herself clenching her teeth as the gentle stroking of her thighs continued. It was the soft brush of Asha's lips that brought her undone in the end, the gentle sensation of a mouth against her neck, the sudden realisation of how much she wanted to surrender to the woman behind her. Her libido, sensing victory, pinned down her upbringing and stabbed it through the heart, then wrestled her psychological issues into submission. With a sigh of relief, Rogue relaxed her thighs, gently opened them beneath Asha's soft persuasion.

The sensation was worth it. Rogue was no stranger to her own body, having long ago decided that self-pleasure was the only pleasure she was going to get. What she was a stranger to, however, was the difference wrought by the touch of another, the body's surprise and delight at sensations that were astonishingly enhanced by being the product of mutual desire. Asha's fingers were gentle but insistent, playing softly over Rogue's thighs, dipping swiftly into her heated dampness and then back out again, teasing her wantonly. Her mouth, too, drifted downwards leaving a trail of soft kisses over Rogue's shoulders, the tip of her tongue teasing skin suddenly sensitive through the protective veil of silk. Together the sensations combined until Rogue couldn't stand it. Her hand clamped on Asha's wrist, held it tightly as she said roughly, 'Stop. Stop teasing me. Ah need . . .'

Rogue felt again Asha's smile against her back, her nod. Then she felt nothing but the pulse of Asha's fingers between her thighs, the gentle penetration as they slid inside of her, the shocking explosion of feeling that arced through her as they finally drifted over her clitoris. 'Oh God,' she murmured once and then bit her lip as Asha experimented, changing tempo and rhythm, seeking the pace that would drive Rogue to orgasm. Unable to stop herself, Rogue instructed, soft single words that told Asha harder, faster, there, more, until the rhythm sought was found and Rogue nodded wildly, closed her eyes, concentrated on the feelings that spasmed through her thighs, her belly, the core of her, the swiftly rising pulse of her body that all too soon, not soon enough, crested the wave, broke her open in a series of spasming cries, then receded, leaving her stranded and gasping on the other side of fulfilled desire.

'Good?' asked Asha softly and kissed Rogue's neck in appreciation of her enthusiastic nod. Her arms tightened around Rogue and held her, her head resting against Rogue's back. It was, Rogue suddenly realised, a prelude to some post-sex cuddling and that thought drove her out of Asha's arms.

'No,' she said, shaking her head almost violently. She knelt between Asha's thighs, looked into her puzzled eyes. She groped for words, found none to explain the emotions that crashed inside of her. Asha didn't know, she thought, what she was doing, didn't realise the spin Rogue placed on it. By making the pleasure Rogue's alone, by pampering her, indulging her, it took any power away from Rogue, made her the one who needed to pleasured, not an equal partner. Rogue's rejection of that scenario was swift but she found no words to explain it. So she explained it the only way she knew how. 'Strip,' she said. 'Pants and boots. Leave the rest.' There would be less danger of skin touching that way.

Puzzled but compliant, Asha sat up, began to undo her pants. As she did, Rogue prowled back to her chest, exclaimed in triumph as she found what she wanted. She turned to find Asha sitting, almost primly, her pants and boots neatly placed beside her, making Rogue laugh at the incongruous picture. She touched a newly glove-clad finger to Asha's lips to stop her protest and then placed the silken square she had found - an old scarf - across Asha's thighs. She was pleased to find it draped nearly to Asha's feet, covering her, making her safe.

'Lie down,' she ordered Asha, who grinned at her suddenly, her eyes alight with joy and lust.

'You like giving orders, don't you, tough girl?' she said.

'Yah ain't kiddin', sugah,' Rogue smiled back, then sobered. 'Ah want - Ah want to make yah feel what Ah did, sugah. Ah want to make it right between us, from the beginning. Ah don't want yah thinking Ah need to be coaxed into this.' She took a deep breath, spoke the words that had been terrifying her since she realised they were true some days before. 'Ah love yah,' she said. 'Ah want yah to know that.' She smiled shyly, uncertainly. 'But Ah ain't done this before. If yah want to give me directions . . .' She trailed off in a blush at Asha's delighted laugh.

'Duyfkin,' she said softly. 'I want it to be right, too.' She pointed suddenly at her silk-clad lap. 'Start there, I'd suggest,' and her laugh twined around Rogue's. Their fingers caught as Asha lay back on the bed and for a moment Rogue's breath, too, caught in fear - the fear of making a mistake, of being too inexperienced.

But she leaned forward anyway, nestled herself into the safe embrace of silk, of Asha's thighs. The silk was so fine that she could see Asha's shape outlined beneath it, touch the dampness that centred it. With trembling fingers she touched, stroked gently, felt the give as Asha's thighs spread wider, letting her fingers drift downwards and dip into the wetness that she had caused. Wonder spilled through her as she realised that she was wanted, desired, that she could touch and be safe. With an exhalation of breath she leaned forward and let her tongue dart out, taste the moisture that was the physical manifestation of Asha's desire, of Rogue's desirability. Uncertain for a moment she thought to raise her head, use her fingers again, but then Asha's hand caught in her hair, held her gently.

'Yah like?' Rogue asked, aware that she was grinning inanely, savouring this giving of pleasure.

'I do,' came the low reply. Rogue lowered her mouth again, used the tip of her tongue to trace the shape of Asha, to explore the landscape of delight, finding where she could make Asha gasp and clench her fingers, where there was no reaction, where there was a gentle hum of surprise. Finally, when Asha's instructions became more explicit, more urgent, she used her mouth and tongue as she was told, concentrated on the building rhythm of the body beneath her, the tight clench of the muscles in Asha's thighs. She gripped at Asha's hips, lifted them and held them as Asha suddenly stilled beneath her, then shuddered and shuddered again, keening tight and high until she finally relaxed and slumped back to the bed.

Rogue sighed, rested her head against Asha's thigh and wondered exactly when her world had turned upside-down and why she didn't mind that it had.

* * * * *

No touching. No skin against skin.

Those were the rules and they were never broken.

But there was a warm body nestled against her, curled within her arms and it was as close as touching ever needed to be. Asha traced the jeans-clad length of Rogue's thigh with her fingers, thrilled with the feeling of it, of the soft rise and fall of Rogue's breasts beneath her other hand, the feeling of soft hair against her face.

'Does it always feel like this?' asked Rogue, and her voice was full of wonder.

'Like what?' asked Asha.

'Like . . . like warmth and ease and trust and . . . and joy,' said Rogue and half-turned, smiling up at her lover, at the half-pun she had made. 'Mah joy,' she said, her voice rich with possessive delight. 'If Ah'd known it felt like this, Ah'd have done it a long time ago.'

'Without me?' pouted Asha.

'Never,' said Rogue firmly, fervently. 'Not without you.' Her fingers traced Asha's cheek. 'Does it sound stupid if Ah say yah make me comfortable?'

'Not stupid,' replied Asha and smiled. 'No more fear, love.' She slipped the word in quickly, but matched Rogue's delighted smile as the word sank in.

'Love,' replied Rogue and the wonder was back in her eyes again. 'No more loneliness,' she whispered.

'Not lonely,' agreed Asha and held Rogue tight against her.

Never touching. Never flesh to flesh. But no longer alone.

Summum Bonum

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee:
All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem:
In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea:
Breath and bloom, shade and shine, - wonder, wealth and - how far above them -
Truth, that's brighter than gem,
Trust, that's purer than pearl, -
Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe - all were for me
In the kiss of one girl.

Robert Browning

The End

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