Chapter 6: Two Minds, One Body

AN: THIS IS THE OTHER REASON I RATED THIS FIC M!!! I mean, it could be a lot worse, but just be warned. There's some touchy-touchy here, and I mean real stuff, rather than my admittedly nonexistent sex scene from Part 1.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

- Mad Girl's Love Song, Sylvia Plath

Fingers on her… feathery, light. Warmer than warm and cold as ice, tracing the veins in her wrists and the downy hair on the back of her neck, the sleek ridge of cheekbone, the soft slant of eyebrows. Breath, like the whispers of a fading ghost, tickles her skin. A voice murmuring too low to hear, a hungry, pleased sound.

Lips press searching kisses to her face, her throat, her chin, her collarbone, seeking downwards towards the sudden looseness of her blouse. Trailing up, they meet her own and tease out a small sound from her, a helpless echo of lust. Anger sparks, and uncertainty, and pride; she turns her face away and tries to push at this unseen lover, but her eyes are blind and her fingers touch nothing but air and hands are warm and sure on her wrists, holding them, trapping them.

Loose, thoughtless now, she drifts as heat spirals down and a clever tongue finds her breasts beneath her shirt, a soft wetness that suddenly is harder as she (though motionless) presses the warm head closer, and teeth scrape her, roughly intimate. She catches her breath, arching her hips unconsciously as the hands leave her wrists and travel down to her hips, lifting her top, putting pressure on the groove between her hipbones and her bare waist, the thumbs stroking beneath her navel. Tongue following the line of her jugular as it pulses beneath her taut skin, up her chin, to her mouth. Hands circle ever lower, dipping beneath the waistband of her pants and brushing against the coarse hair there, lifting the elastic band of her underwear. Light touches, stroking with increasing pressure and then letting off, enticing her. Air blown coolly on her eyelids, into the hollow where her shoulders meet her neck, between her breasts, across her nipples. Sudden chills wrack her spine, arching her up to meet the hands that wait to slip and slide across her body with torturous ease. The shudders that foretell a Change, the aching ecstasy of sharpening, thickening teeth, the breathless hiss of ribs expanding. Those warm, unrelenting fingers know her body, her Change, and they explore this new halfway form with wicked joy. Teeth of equal sharpness drag across the softness of her belly, drawing a harsh, wild cry from between her not-quite-human lips as the coppery scent of blood slides lazily into the air. Slick and hot, she feels her own blood trickle down her stomach from the new scratches there. Mouth open, she bows her head to the quick, rough tongue that dances with quick, rough lips and draws pictures of destruction across the back of her neck.

Fingers tear the thin, weak elastic of her underwear, sliding down to the sweet, soft flesh of her inner thighs and finally, finally, touching the center of the burn that threatens to consume her. The mouth then goes where the fingers have gone and she's crying out, now, a howl or a scream, her spirit straining against the confines of her flesh.

Kat woke with a start, the bittersweet taste of a scream still building in her throat. She breathed in huge gulps of air, taking in the oxygen as if it would erase the memory of fingers on her, fingers that knew every inch of her, and a mouth that could dominate her completely. The plane was darkened, the girl beside her asleep. The change of planes had been at least two hours ago, and they should be arriving in about thirty minutes, if her watch was right. Kat closed her eyes and let out a breath, trying to focus on the thought of reaching California rather than the dream.

Dream?

It had been so vivid, so real. She could still feel… And it had been so familiar, somehow. She knew those hands, that clever mouth. Or was it just her mind supplying the touch? But… no, it had to be a dream. A dream born of… what? Fear of losing control? That had to be it. Kat couldn't remember the last time she'd had a sexy dream where she'd been so… so…

Submissive.

Still, a shudder ran through her as she recalled the blinding ecstasy that had come with the submission, the way her body had exploded with sensation beyond her control as those so-familiar fingers touched her. But there'd been no face. She'd been blind, literally, to this manifest lover. Kat shook her head. Reid? Had she dreamed of Reid? I would have seen him. It would have been… different. I know what sex with Reid is like, and it wasn't anything like… like that. With that thought came the unbidden whisper that she'd liked the dream, and the feeling of giving up power. The feeling of being dominated, rather than doing the dominating, or sharing equally. Kat shied away from the thought and swallowed hard, shifting in her seat.

Just a dream. Forget about it.

She crossed her arm over her stomach and winced at an unexpected twinge of pain. Slowly, disbelieving, Kat slipped her fingertips under the hem of her shirt and rolled it carefully up to reveal her belly…

And the two small, fresh scratches just above her navel.

88888888888888888888

Reid woke up with a snort and a jerk, the blaring horn of a passing 18-wheeler jolting him from his nap. He was pulled over by the side of the interstate highway, just as he'd spent the night before. For some reason, he was feeling awfully tired. Probably just leftover symptoms from his magic-induced stay in the hospital.

He blinked, rubbing a hand across his eyes, and let out a breath. That had been some dream. So vivid. He had to laugh, though… Kat would never be such a bottom, sex-wise. If ever there was a dom, she was it. He sighed, the dream hazing over, but then frowned a bit. There'd been something a little weird about it. Almost as if… he was an onlooker, rather than the one pinning Kat down.

Oh, get over it, the voice said snidely. Might as well stop thinking of her altogether, boy-o, 'cause we both know she won't last long once I win this little war once and for all.

Not happening.

Oh, don't worry, it continued, a sly note entering the tone, I've changed my mind a little. We're not gonna kill her. Just… alter her, a bit.

What are you talking about? Reid merged out onto the road, accelerating fast.

Well, I've decided I kind of like the new-and-improved version of our girl Kat. After all, she can be quite… obedient, don't you think?

Reid's hands clenched on the wheel, a sudden suspicion filling him.

No. No.

The voice laughed, all at once mocking, triumphant and lusty.

Oh, yes. What, did you think it was you fucking her? Oh, wait, let me guess… You thought it was just a dream, right?

You-

Watch the road, Reid. Wouldn't want to crash before your little girlfriend finds out what you really are. She didn't like what I did to her, did she, do you think? Or maybe she liked it more than she'll admit. Maybe she liked my version of you way better than the original.

Shut up. Shut the FUCK up.

There was no reply, only a lingering sense of cruel satisfaction. Reid felt the rage burning in him, impotent and out of control. The rear-view mirror reflected his eyes, black and cold and furious.

All the power in the world at his fingertips….

And he was utterly helpless.