A little something that is different to what I normally write...please read and review..oh let me know if you all want more :)

Chapter One

Mark, grasped the bed sheets with his hands while his body started to quiver with sheer anticipation as she once again started kissing his abs, her tongue and lips tracing the "BSK PRIDE" tattoo that adorned his stomach.

"No, not again" he thought to himself as as he felt her cold kisses work their way ever upwards, only pausing as she toyed with both of his hard nipples..her teeth biting each one before she teased him with that tongue of hers.

Mark, kept his eyes tightly closed..it was better this way..he knew what she wanted and that his participation was not required, not yet..not until she reached his mouth. The growing sensation in his groin give him little to no comfort...but then it had been three months solid, every night since he had first had this dream...but was it a dream Mark wasn't sure any more.

Sheer exhaustion due to the lack of sleep was setting in but then as long as he managed to grab a few precious hours of rest during the day he was fine but only just..he was beginning to feel so weak, both mentally and physically. A few of the other wrestlers had made comments about how dark his eyes were now, or how pale he looked..in fact one of the trainers, Steve had said he looked so haggard and that just maybe he should go tell Vince about it, since it was obvious that Mark was ill and possibly endangering his own well-being by being so stubborn.

But every time that he closed his eyes at night she would be there. She rarely spoke but then she didn't have to, her intentions were very clear right from the start. Her lack of clothing bar the long leather hooded trench-coat and a pair of high heeled boots spoke more words than she deemed necessary.

At first he was annoyed by her presence, thinking her to be nothing more than an over zealous fan but he was so very wrong...he found that out as soon she pushed him physically to the bed and straddled his hips before kissing him, it wasn't her strength that amazed him...OK, no woman should be able to man-handle him like that, hell no man could do it, so why should she be able. No, what silenced Mark as how the second she started kissing him, he had simply responded to her. All thoughts gone...apart from ones with a common theme, that he wanted her..he wanted to please her...to do all what she wanted, to do whatever he had to make him hers.

He could vaguely remember waking up the next morning, laying on the floor of his hotel room naked, all memories of the previous night hazy...the only clues to the activities that had taken place the many trails of white stickiness on his body and thighs, plus the way he ached..it must have been quite some session. And yet the more he tried to recall the less he could. Her name let alone her face was all a mystery to him and still part of him yearned for her...wanted to feel her fingers in his hair and the coldness of her lips on his skin.

So when she kissed his naked body the next night he was ready for her, her lips had barely touched his naked flesh when he flipped her onto her back and laid on top of her, pressing her into the bed..a large grin on his face. All of this was an action he instantly regretted as she raked her nails forcefully across his chest and face drawing tiny rivers of blood. That when they dripped onto her hands she licked them clean, much akin to how a cat would clean itself.

Having forced him to lay on his back, she had licked and sucked at every river of crimson that was criss-crossing his flesh. Biting each wound making the blood flow more freely...until he found himself climaxing due to her erotic but very animalistic touch, it was then that he decided he was dreaming...at 45 he had starting having "wet dreams" again, not that he minded..his nights were spent alone despite what many people believed.

But, as the nights passed and he found himself increasingly torn between longing and dread, the one overriding thought that consumed him was that most of all he wanted her to stay. For the sense of loneliness that filled the void she left him with was overwhelming...to Mark it felt like he was drowning.

During the day he would travel to the next arena in a state of near constant daydreaming, his mind filled with her scent, her touch..the chill to her skin. He wasn't living his life any more he was barely existing...the sole purpose of his life was now giving her whatever she wanted from him.

Mark knew he had to keep this his little secret, so that meant no more sharing rooms on the odd occasion he did. If anyone found out about these vivid dreams, Mark had a mental image of himself being dragged off to the crazy house while the dirt-sheets announced to the world that The Undertaker had finally gone over the edge and descended into madness.

The strange thing was, in all this time. All these months of such intimacy and passion that he had never known before, that he had never dreamed possible. He could never recall having actually laid with her, there was no memory of them making love. In fact she went out of her way not to touch his groin and the one time while caught up in the almost frenzy like state he would often find himself, he had dared to move her hand to his erect manhood she had slapped his face before biting him harder than ever before while digging her spiked heels into his shins.

Even though he couldn't clearly remember he must have done something with her...why else would he ache so much and feel so drained the next day, of course there was all the tell tale signs that covered not only him but the bedding.

Mark, winced a little as his seductress, no he corrected himself... his tormentor bit his chest bringing him back to the here and now. The force of her bite drawing blood yet again...his fingers gathering up more and more bedding in a vain hope that soon it would be over and that he would be allowed to find comfort in that blessed refuge that is called sleep.

She stopped kissing him and placed a hand over his heart, his heartbeat was so strong..and yet she could sense a tension within him. Closing her eyes for the briefest of moments she concentrated and sighed quietly as she picked up on his fear.

Mark Calaway..a man known to strike fear into his opponents was so afraid of her..she smiled as she looked at his features. The way his hair was spread out behind him on the pillow the odd damp strand crossing his brow, the way he held his eyes closed...oh such a shame she thought to herself..it was his eyes that had helped draw her to him.

Reaching out her let her fingertips trace over his face, moving the hair out of his eyes. All this caused a moan of pleasure to escape Marks mouth, she lent forward and kissed his nose and chuckled to herself as a puzzled look crossed his face.

Normally she would have killed him by now, just as she had so many others but there was something about this man, that held her captive. She knew what she wanted to do and so many times she had brought him to the very brink, stood with him in the darkness. So wanting him to cross that final threshold but something stayed her hand. So instead she was content to simply feed from him amazed at his almost inhuman resilience, for any other mortal would have been a pile of dust by now but not Mark Calaway. She wondered for a while if there was an element of truth to his gimmick...that was he really The Deadman, the Reaper of Souls.

Looking down at his still form, his lips caught her gaze...oh those lips, so kissable and so exquisitely perfect. Mark had his mouth slightly open which made them even more desirable, unable to resist she kissed them passionately, her tongue begging entrance to his warm moist mouth.

Mark, was trying to keep his breathing calm, tonight felt so different. Her actions while they were the same as any other night, appeared to be almost hesitant as if her mind was on other things..but dreams shouldn't react like this surely.

He tensed and let out a low moan as he felt her fingers touch his face...her hand was shaking as it traced over his skin then he felt her coldness on his nose as she kissed it lightly before pulling away. He knew that she was simply watching him, he so wanted to open his eyes to take in his night time visitor...to gaze at her face. But the primeval instincts of survival screamed at him to keep his eyes closed.

Suddenly he felt her lips on his, a fiery passion enveloped him as his nameless and silent mistress of the night kissed him, her tongue gently probing..begging access to his mouth. He obliged and sucked on her tongue as she pressed against him, grinding her hips against his now throbbing member.

"I want you" he whispered, as his hands stroked her back and thighs not caring if she responded with violence. Just as long as she responded in some way, he had to know if this was a dream or he was finally loosing his mind.