So, here's a peek inside Anna's head. M rating well earned, because smutty smut, smut. Anyway, hope you like her, I've felt like her character hasn't gotten a chance to really shine yet. Hope I did her some justice. Enjoy!


2:26 A.M.

That's what the digital clock on my nightstand reads. If I had a lick of sense, I'd lay my head back down and get whatever sleep while I can. Tomorrow's a long day, I'm workin' the church and dinner rushes, and the sleeping man I'm currently piled up into doesn't believe in sleepin' through the night.

Yeah, I know. It's him. Remy LeBeau. Insanely gorgeous, insanely good in bed, and you'd have to be absolutely insane in the head to get tangled up with the likes of him. Yet, here I am, havin' gone on two dates with now, I'm sleepin' with him again, and I'm lettin' him stay the night again, even though I should've long since kicked him out.

Then again, I've never been known to be a hundred percent mentally stable at any given point in time, so there's that. Kinda comes with the territory of having a mutant 'gift' that sucks a wisp of a person's mind (among other things) into my mind upon immediate skin to skin contact.

Sighing as quietly as I can, I lay my head back down on his shoulder, turning my face into his skin, softly kissin' him. He's got the smoothest skin, all stretched out tight over long, lean muscles, and he's so warm, so inviting. He smells absolutely delicious, a combination of motor oil and cigarettes all wrapped up in a spicy cologne. He tastes even better, his skin kinda salty, his mouth surprisingly pleasant, what with him being a smoker and all. And damn, does he feel good, every blasted inch of his body feels incredible. It's one of the reasons why I keep lettin' him through my door.

I slowly stretch out into him, kissin' that little patch of skin in front of me some more. I'm not a snuggler, but he seems bent on changin' that. I still prefer to sleep alone and with absolutely nothing but covers touching me, and I'll still try to move over to my side of the bed after, but Remy won't let me get away with it anymore. Soon as I roll away, he'll grab ahold of me and drag me back against him. When I snap at him over it, he just laughs and holds me in a little tighter.

Truth is, though, the fight, I'm pretty sure most of it's a front now. I love it, the feel of being crushed up into his body, the heavy weight of his arm across my back and shoulder. I crave it, the near constant skin-to-skin contact he gives me. And lord, does he give it! Remy touches freely, frequently, without inhibitions, and he lets me do the same. He never pulls back when I do reach for him, he never seems to think it's weird, how I'll maintain contact just a bit longer than most people do, and he never, ever withholds touch whenever I want it. It's almost like the man has no personal bubble.

Speakin' of how I like touch, wanna know something funny? Even though I'm cured, I hardly touch anyone. See, when I first got the cure, I was ecstatic, felt free. All of a sudden, I could hold hands, hug friends, kiss Bobby, hell, have sex with Bobby. People could stop givin' me a three feet safety circle, and I could start being comfortable during the warmer months again! Except...yeah, none of that happened. Well, I did kiss and have sex with Bobby, and I did go on to dress comfortably all spring and summer, but that's it. People still avoided touchin' me, still avoided getting too close. Feeling caged in all the same, I left. Some think I left because Bobby cheated, but no, I stuck around and gave that asshole a second chance. I left because I wanted change, and still couldn't have it. And once on my own? I finally had it!

Only thing is, I'm somewhat socially stupid when it comes to touchin' boundaries. Having been denied nearly all contact for workin' on ten years now, I'm weird about it. Like, I'll shake someone's hand too long, or I'll prolong a hug more than most. When I tried datin' this guy, Jackson, from one of my classes, I was 'clingy', all because I wanted to touch him too much. Finally, I just got back to where I didn't touch anyone, because honestly, I was makin' people uncomfortable, makin' friends uncomfortable, and it ain't like I could tell 'em why I was so weird, right?

Then here comes Remy, and he's a real touchy-feely kinda guy, so he doesn't mind it at all. He doesn't ask questions, he doesn't get uncomfortable. In fact, when I touch him, he reciprocates tenfold! And I love it, eat it up.

I love it even now, when he's fast asleep, and it's just me doin' the touching. He doesn't care about that, either, never cares even if it wakes him up.

I splay my fingers over his chest, slowly curlin' 'em back up, rakin' 'em through the light dusting of hair, then following where it funnels down the mid-line of his rock-hard abdomen. He says he works something real boring, something like business acquisitions or whatever, but if I was a guessin' gal, I'd call him a liar. Eyes like those and a body in this kind of extreme physical condition? Bullshit, he works in an office and wears a suit and tie. I doubt he's a do-gooder, though, he's too...hmm...what's a good word here? Slick, he's too slick for that, too dark. My guess is, he's a bit crooked, and that maybe his moral compass doesn't point quite due North, but I can't say that I think he's a bad man.

Actually, he reminds me a whole lot of Logan.

I snicker quietly into his shoulder at that, and he stirs, turnin' his face toward me. I'm actually surprised I ain't woke him up yet, he's usually a light sleeper. Then again, I'd noticed he looked a peaked earlier, like maybe he'd had a hell of a headache all day or something.

I slide my hand back up his torso, then up his neck and into his hair, dropping little kisses up along his collarbone. Doin' this, it's easy to pretend for a second. Pretend that we are normal, that the cure ain't failin' anyone. Maybe pretend that I'm someone else, someone who ain't so messed up over touch, that he's someone else, someone who ain't so messed up over...whatever he's messed up over. Pretend that we're just two normal people, with normal problems, two normal people dating, maybe one day, fallin' in love or whatever.

See, all that right there is what I took the cure for. I thought I wanted the fairytale, thought I wanted some dashing Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet, give me a house, a white picket fence, and all the babies I wanted, kind of like in all those romance books I like to read. Turns out, though, the fairytale is kind of scary, and I actually like being on my own, only thinkin' about myself. Turns out, touch is beautiful, uncomplicated, and I'm addicted to it, need it, but I don't need anything else to go along with it.

Leave it to Remy, though, a man who is eighteen years older than me, who sleeps with any pretty little thing of age, who screams 'heartbreaker' with every fiber of his being, to make me think about shit like the fairytale again. Oh, not with him! Not really. I'm too far out of my depth with him, he'd eat me alive. But still...tonight? I had fun. I enjoyed goin' out with him. I enjoyed flirtin' with him, and I loved dancing with him. My lord, I could see him, and he'd be fun, he'd be charming, hell, he even has a sweet streak in him, believe it or not. And when it's over, I could easily go to the next relationship, maybe a healthier one, and I could easily see myself fallin' head over heels for that guy, or maybe the next one...

And then find out I'm one of the unlucky bastards the cure will quit on. POOF! Goes the fairytale, and along with it, my stupid heart. It wouldn't take that much to break it, either, and if there's one thing that scares the shit out of me, it's that, and then havin' to live with it. Unlike everyone else, I won't get another chance, not if my power comes back.

Frowning, I press my face into his shoulder, breathin' him in, kissin' him, threadin' my fingers in his hair. That's the other thing. I've been watchin' the news. The cure is wearing off for some. It seems to only be a very small number, but who knows how accurate that number is? I mean, how many mutants do you think are runnin' up and shouting to whoever will listen that the damn cure they took just wore off? Not many, I'll guarantee you that. There's probably a lot more cases than have been reported.

Anyway, bottom line, I'm terrified that I'm next. It's probably the biggest reason for the push-pull behavior I have toward Remy. Push him away, because if my stupid power does come back, I can hurt him, kill him, even; pull him back in, because if the cure wears off, touch is only on borrowed time, and I want to touch as much as possible before I can't anymore.

Maybe pullin' him back in is winnin' out right now, despite what I'd told him earlier. After all, if my power shows back up, he won't stick around long enough for the door to hit 'im where the good lord split 'im, might as well get it while the goin's good, right? All I'd have to do is make sure I didn't do something real stupid, like start to really like him-

"Chere?"

Shit. I woke him up. He'll know I'm upset, too. Never would've pegged him for a sensitive sort, but man, sometimes I think Remy is more in tune with my feelings than I am. Maybe he's a telepath? No, I'd feel him probing my mind if he was.

"Chere? Wha's wrong?" His accent is real thick, his voice gravelly with sleep, and his eyes heavy-lidded and dim, but the hand that was on my shoulder is now rubbing the length of my back, and he'd just snatched my hand out of his hair and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

See? Sweet streak, he has one.

"Nothin', sugar. Just tryin' to go back to sleep," I lie to him. Because hell no, I don't want to talk about what's buggin' me.

He rubs his mouth against my palm. "Said it earlier, girl, y' a terrible liar."

"Would you rather I was a good one?"

He chuckles. "Non, y' good at plenty of other things."

He drops my hand off on his chest, circling his around my hip and under, guiding my leg up across his hips as he pulls me up for a kiss. My god, have I mentioned yet that Remy feels so incredibly good? Lord, between the deepening kiss, his arm tightening up around me, crushin' me against him, the feel of him throbbin' against the inside of my thigh, and the light stroke of his hand back up my leg, caressin' up the inside of my thigh, going up, up...

"Mmmm, that feels good," I murmur against his mouth, closing my eyes as his fingers slip inside me, first one, then a second one, a third. My lord, he's good at this. Based on what I'd read in all those romance books, I'd expected being fingered to be just mimicking the motions of sex, just pumpin' fingers in and out. Apparently, Bobby had thought something similar, and I remember that being uncomfortable. Remy, though, he doesn't do that. He's movin' his fingers, rubbin' that nice little spot up there, the same one he hits during sex. Doesn't feel the same, it's not as intense, and it drives me nuts when he does only that and doesn't touch me anywhere else.

Like now. And damn him, he knows it, too.

I try to rub up against him, but he doesn't let me, clamping his arm down tight around me.

"Si impatient, ma cherie," he croons French into the side of my mouth, drivin' me even more crazy as he pulls his fingers out to touch all around, everywhere but where I really want him to.

"Dammit, Remy," I hiss at him. I love-hate it when he teases me.

He suddenly kisses me hard and rolls us over, his fingers slidin' back in, his mouth quickly moving down. I close my eyes and just drown myself in the sensations, how good it feels, his hand workin' between my legs while he kisses, licks, sucks, and nips at my breasts, the scratch of his stubble across my skin as he kisses his way down to my navel... Oh my god, oh god, yes, I know where this is going, and hell yeah, I open right up for him, hopin' he'll take the hint and hurry it up a little gettin' down there.

Which, of course, he doesn't, he takes his sweet time doin' what he wants to do just the same, kissin' down along the inside of first one thigh, then the other.

"Remy, please," I beg. Hell, I'm practically whimpering, I want it so bad, and he finally moves up where I want him, and oh my lord, the combination of his warm breath, the anticipation of what he's about to do, and the increased pressure of his fingers-

"O-ho my god, Remy, now!" I shove my hand in his hair, and he finally, finally, gives me his mouth, right where I want it, just as I'm about to orgasm, and damn, does that send me through the roof!

He doesn't even give me a chance to come down from it, either, he just scoops me up in his arms and settles in for a longer haul, licking, kissing me back up, and just when I'm about to go again, he sucks me up into a tight kiss, takin' it to a whole new level of pleasure again.

I know I yelled his name, yelled some other stuff, too, but just like every other time he makes me come that hard, I just kinda blank out, my body clenches up too tight, and I feel like I can't move for a minute. When I can finally feel myself startin' to relax, I feel like I can start breathin' again, I look down at him, watchin' him as he kisses me, watchin' him as he turns his face to kiss the inside of my thigh, then looks up at me as he makes his way back up, droppin' kisses along the way.

I feel him brushin' up along my leg when he stops at my breasts again, and now, I'm starin' down between us, at him, thinking about what I'd imagined earlier this evening, while we were dancing. When I'd started all the blushing, and he'd started all the teasing. Just one flirty comment from him about why he liked my mouth, and bam! The first thing I'd imagined was going down on him. I mean, I'm real turned on by the idea of it, but I ain't ever done it. Bobby always just wanted to get it in, and Jackson had turned red and said something about only wantin' it the way god intended it or something, so yeah, I'm curious. Honestly, I wanted to do it to Remy the first time we hooked up, but since he hadn't initiated it, I wasn't about to, and then when he did, I got all shy. Call it silly, if you'd like, I know some guys have said there's no such thing as a bad blowjob, but I mean, c'mon! It's obvious Remy's been around every block out there at least twice, so I can't help but wonder how I'd stack up to past experiences, y' know?

Ah, hell. I'm just gonna do it. He's been practically beggin' for it all night, anyway, and he did try to keep his trap shut like I told him to.

He still lost, the stubborn, argumentative ass just didn't want to admit it. He's made up for it in spades, though.

He's back up now, kissin' me, and I let my hands roam, runnin' up his ribs, down his back, over his hips, and then I slip a hand down and get ahold of him. He immediately pulls out of the kiss with a catch in his breath, closin' his eyes and groaning low in his throat as I rub him just how he likes it, hidin' a smug grin into his shoulder as he gets a bit slick in my hand. You have no idea how much of a turn on it is, gettin' this guy going, makes me want to-

"Chere, you keep doin' that, and this all gon' be over before it even begins," he breathes out, opening his eyes.

"Can't have that, now can we?" I tease him, pulling my hand away. "Roll over, sugar."

He raises brows at me, but complies, rolling onto his back, tucking one hand behind his head and watchin' me. I lean down over him, starting first at the base of this throat, droppin' kisses as I skim down his chest, his abdomen, hips, and when I hear him growl out a curse in French once he realizes where I'm goin', I move on down, pushing his legs apart, and sliding a hand up his thigh to grip him again.

"Looks like all those comments about my mouth got you somewhere after all, huh?" I ask him with a lick of my lips, tryin' like hell to play this off bold, sexy, and, most importantly, without blushing!

Must've had some success, because his eyes widen, he swallows hard, and he drops another French bomb as I drop my face and slowly pull him in, tasting him, gettin' comfortable with the feel of him in my mouth.

"Ohhhh, fuck...Anna," he groans, one of his hands moving to the back of my head, his body all tight and tense as he tries to be still. Honestly, I don't think I'd mind him movin' once I get the hang of this, but right now, I'm glad he's holdin' back a little.

A couple of minutes into it, he's gettin' all slick in my mouth and I'm getting more confident, so I start experimenting a little, movin' my mouth in different ways, pulling back at times to lick at him and then takin' 'im back in, sucking hard, then soft, then poppin' off before going back for more, all while trying to use my hands, too. I say trying, because this all apparently takes more coordination than walkin' and chewin' gum at the same time, so I'm...clumsy. Yeah, that's a good word, clumsy.

Looks like I ain't doin' too bad, though, I think I found something he really likes, 'cause now his breathing is real ragged, and there's a bit of a sweat sheen on his skin.

"Chere, I'm 'bout t-to go," he stutters out (I love that stutter, it's a cute switch from the smooth talker he usually is) a few minutes later, his hand gettin' heavier on the back of my head, his fingers curlin' up in my hair, and my lord, yes, he is about to go, I can tell by how he feels, how he tastes, and how he's diggin' his heels into the mattress... I swear to god, it's like I can actually feel what he does, something I've thought a couple of times before with him, I wonder-

"Ohhhhh...oh fuck...Anna...dammit, tha's...th-tha's good, you suck me so fuckin' good," he groans out, low and harsh as his body jerks up tight and he comes, one hand fisted in my hair, the other in the bedsheets. I shiver a little at his words, because damn, it's hot as hell, hearin' him talk like that, hopefully he'll do more of it!

I grip him a little tighter with my hand, pull him a little further in, keepin' up the intensity til he's finished, and then start to soften up around him as he relaxes. I like it when he lets me ride it out in a similar fashion, so I figure maybe he'd like it, too.

Next thing I know, his hands are pullin' me up, draggin' me over his body to smash my lips against his. Hard as the kiss started, he quickly gentles it, one hand rubbin' my back, the other cupping the back of my head. He holds me there even when he finishes the kiss, holds my lips just over his, his breathing still heavy. Then he quickly kisses me again and breaks away, his head falling back, and he loosens his grip on me.

I move down and settle into his side, head on his shoulder. I don't doubt he can get it up again real quick for actual sex, but honestly, I'm worn out, and a gal needs her beauty sleep. He doesn't push for more, just drags my leg up over his hips, and relaxes back into his pillow, his hand still resting on my knee, his other hand still laced up in my hair.

This right here, it feels damn good, him playin' with my hair, his other fingers lightly caressin' my knee. I close my eyes and turn my face into his skin, kissing him, breathing him in, steeping in the heat off his body, just soakin' up all this touch.

"Anna, you're fuckin' amazing, girl. Absolutely fuckin' amazing," he breaks up the quiet, his voice thick and drowsy. He turns his face toward me and presses the bridge of my nose against his lips for a firm kiss, and then lays his head back down, chin resting on my forehead. "'Night, chere."

"'Night, swamp rat," I reply, rubbing his chest, closin' my eyes.

It's then that I realize a few things. One, I snuggled up to him on my own, without even thinkin' about it. Two, I guess I really am kinda stupid, 'cause I actually kinda like this guy. Not just for sex or touching. Okay, well, I knew that one all along, so I guess two is actually that I don't want to fight it anymore. Anyway, three, good, bad, or otherwise, I think I will see him again. Maybe. We'll see how I feel in the morning. I mean, what can it hurt? It ain't like it'd be anything serious, just casual, just havin' fun, he says. What's so wrong about that?

Maybe he ain't such a bad idea after all.