I only own the plot. CH owns the characters.
She slept with her window open.
The old farmhouse had never had air conditioning installed, and heat of a Louisiana summer is anything but forgiving. Nestled back in several acres of woods, the only neighbor a plantation house in even worse disrepair than hers, there was really no need to be afraid of keeping a window open in the hopes of tempting a breeze. Running a fan would raise her utility bill—and besides, she liked the earthy scents that would drift in with the tepid wind.
And so, night after night, the window stayed open.
Tonight, Sookie's covers were kicked almost completely off the bed. There was no relief tonight from the suffocating heat, thick with humidity and still in the high eighties, despite the late hour. She'd gone to bed in a white cotton shift, thin but not see-through. Whenever she wore it, she felt ethereal, like a fairy tail princess, like a moon Goddess; Artemis reborn in the swampy lands of Louisiana. She rarely wore it, saving it for the most stifling of nights—and to preserve that sweet feeling that she was something more, something other.
Tonight, it offered little relief.
Sweat beaded along her skin, her hair fanned across the pillow and trailing on floral-patterned sheets. The discomfort of the night was starting to rouse Sookie from her slumber, droplets of moisture fading into her hairline and prickling in the valley between her breasts. One hand lifted half-heartedly to swipe at her temple; her eyelids fluttered. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Just as she was on the precipice, in that liquid realm between dreaming and waking, a calloused, cool finger pressed to her lips.
"Shh, Lover," A deep voice crooned. "Sleep." Sookie made a noise of agreement, and the finger made a path to her cheek, stroking softly. Whether by reflex or pure contentment, she smiled beatifically. The caress continued, moving down to her neck. The cool finger was soon replaced by the entire rough hand, delicately tracing the lines of her throat. So tender, despite the lifetime's worth of hardships cared into every minute swirl on his fingertips, despite the centuries of darkness carried in his palms.
Sookie moaned quietly, arching slightly into the touch. She could feel the excess heat seeping into his skin, slowly leeching the discomfort and replacing it with a different kind of heat. The muscles in her belly started to tense, the very beginnings of arousal, long dormant, slowly waking within her. Her thick lashes skimmed her cheekbones, her lips parting slightly.
Still, she slept.
The hand continued it's path, touching her collarbone softly. They didn't stick out sharply; she was rounded, soft, but still so firm. So, so lovely. Cool palms cupped her breasts, testing their weight; her nipples pebbled as chilly thumbs skimmed them softly, and again every-so-slightly harder. Sookie's thighs pressed together, small whimpers escaping her delicate throat. Her golden hair shifted as her head tossed to one side, her back arching.
More. More. More.
She'd been brought up to be a lady; ladies were not wanton, and lust was a sin. Sookie did her best to be a good, Christian woman—but in her dreams, alone in her house, surrounded by woods, she could lust. She could be wanton. She could desire more.
And so she softly sighed it out.
"More…" The fingers rolled her breasts harder, and soon the humid air was alight with her soft sounds of pleasure, the scent of her arousal thick in her room, drifting out of her open window and into the night beyond. One hand disappeared, ghosting down her side. A firm, cool kiss was planted on her neck, the sensitive spot where her collarbone rose to meet her throat. She giggled and recoiled just slightly, ticklish. The lips against her throat turned up slightly before retreating from her altogether.
The hem of Sookie's nightgown creeped up her thigh as the calloused fingertips danced up her smooth, tan skin. The hand at her breast dipped into her nightgown, pleased at her lack of a bra, still torturing her hardened peaks as her hips started to undulate, desperate for the hand steadily creeping further north to move faster.
She craved.
She needed.
"What do you need?" The deep voice whispered at her ear, teasing, tantalizing. She wanted to be mad at him, but couldn't hide a small smile, still emitting small whimpers.
"More…more of you…" Sookie breathed out, her legs falling open just slightly.
Still dreaming.
Now aching.
Please, she thought hazily, the ether of slumber cradling her.
The voice chuckled lowly at her, frustratingly. A plea for mercy was poised on her lips, ready to be let out, when both hands left her momentarily before gripping the back of her thighs firmly, tenderly, spreading them more. A low growl ending in a soft pant sounded; she swore she could feel the vibrations of it in those cool, calloused hands.
She hadn't worn panties.
She knew he was pleased.
Before she Sookie could revel in her small victory—it was hard to surprise her dream lover—he had latched onto her dripping core, feasting hungrily.
Sookie's toes curled immediately, her back mirroring the action as she pressed sleepily further into him. His tongue was talented, swirling around her little bundle of nerves before she felt two of his thick fingers slipping inside of her. She'd thought he'd been stealing her heat with his earlier caresses, but now she knew he'd merely been saving all of her excess body heat in those glorious digits. Her pussy was on fire, molten lava; Sookie whimpered as she arched into him again and again, feeling her release roiling towards her.
"Yessss…yesyesyesyesyes," She chanted, eyes screwed shut, fingers gripping at the full head of thick hair buried between her legs. The wave of pleasure rose sharply, suddenly, and a keening wail broke free, echoing in her room and into the humid night.
Sookie panted, her arms thrown across her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. The pounding of her heart drowned everything else out, rushing through her ears for what felt like forever until finally settling into a steady, staccato rhythm. Sookie smiled and lifted her arms from her face, eyes now open. She glanced around her room, searching for her phantom lover, before reality crashed back down on her.
"Of-fucking-course," She groused. "Another dream."
She flopped her head back onto her sweaty pillow before lifting herself out of her bed a moment later. Sookie padded into her attached bathroom, intent on taking a cold shower. Her thighs were wet with her own arousal; she could feel the thick moisture rolling down her thighs, slicking back and forth with every step.
The dreams of her mystery lover had been coming for a while now, and while they were incredibly sexy, intense, sometimes even loving, she was ready for her subconscious to stop teasing her with things that could never be. Tears pricked behind her eyes as she turned on the shower head, clambering under the spray and letting the water wash away her shame.