okay, so I have very little experience writing mature stuff so I'm basically just going to be playing around with things and see what I'm comfortable writing/what I'm good at. If something seriously sucks, please give me feedback I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't think any of this will be posted on tumblr (except the first, which is already up).
Warnings: vague sexy stuff, choking
He dreams of eyes, black and orange and blue ones that never look exactly at him, just through him or past him. He thinks they're beautiful, mesmerizing, eyes he wouldn't mind seeing him when he's most vulnerable. No, he would never mind those gorgeous eyes peeling away his clothes to rake over his naked skeletal system.
(Later, as he lies on his back, arms tied above his head, sweat hanging off of him like morning dew on grass, he learns to beg for those eyes. Those gleeful, piercing eyes that stare him like he's some kind of god damned science experience, like he's the newest toy in a kid's arsenal. As he arches and thrusts upwards, his own eyes rolling back in ecstasy, he prays to all the deities he knows that he won't be discarded at a moment's notice.)
Next come the hands, fingers long and bony and the color of ivory. With the hands comes a language he isn't familiar with, but one he's excited to learn none the less. Words are formed with complex gestures, meanings completely incomprehensible to him, yet he feels wonder towards them all the same. When he wakes, he makes translating those words his new mission.
(Later, those same hands grip his cervical vertebrae, choking him. Out of view, fingers delicately caress his ribs, his humerus, his pelvis, his femur. It's all too much for him, an overload of sensations, and he wants to kick and writhe and scream for more, more pleasure, more pain, but every movement causes the hand at his throat to tighten, causes his vision to blur and his mind to grow fuzzy.)
When he dreams of the creature's face, it's like a moon against a wispy black night. It sparks a sense of recognition, something screaming at him that he knows this person, but his tongue can't quite place a name. Forgotten memories he swore never to bring up flicker forth, thoughts of a simpler, happier time. The smiling face is inviting, becoming him closer, closer.
(Later, he realizes that even though the monster has the face of someone he knew, it contains no love. It is cruel, the smile it wears actually a malicious grin. It's always smirking, smirking as he begs to be touched, smirking as he screams in pain, smirking as it leaves him cold and wet and shivering in his bed, all very much alone.)
When he wakes, there's a bitter taste left in his mouth and he's covered with slimy sweat. His bones ache and head swims, but there's a smile on his face regardless. He finds himself craving sleep, if only for another session.
(They're only dreams, right?)
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