Sweet Dreams

Disclaimer: no

A/N: This was written while listening to The Sacrament by HIM (the disrhythm remix) on repeat

It felt like coming back to consciousness after being knocked out by NyQuil. There was the sense of confusion and the thought of 'where was I?' and 'what was I doing?' and the gross taste in my mouth. But it was all good because, obviously, I wasn't dead. Nothing's as bad as it seems unless you're dead. Still disoriented, in spite of having been awake for about three minutes, I sat up and looking around. The room was dark and unfamiliar and smelled like old. It was a front room or a foyer or something and it was trashed. The walls were crumbling and shit was strewn everywhere. I was sitting on broken glass, which was vaguely worrisome. I was reminded of an old B horror movie Naminé made me watch with her once. The main characters got caught in a storm with a flat. They went over to the creepy, dilapidated mansion on the hill instead of the nice little suburb down the way. The writers of horror movies are stupid, no one, in real life would go to the mansion. There could just as well be a serial killer in the suburb…. But whatever, what I'm saying is that foyer looked like this one. Kindof. I looked around again. There were stairs at both ends of the room that led up to an open landing; if I had been standing I would've been able to see the upper floor, but obviously—

—pushes me into the wall and our lips meet for the briefest of moment before he—

My head snapped up and I forced my eyes to focus. What the fuck was that?!

As quickly as it had come, the vision was gone. I shook my head and the last whispers of it scattered. When nothing more came I got to my feet and shrugged it off. Random swatches of fantasies? Cool, I could deal with that.

I was right; I could see the top floor. After several seconds of staring at absolutely nothing, I shook my head again, it was hard to focus with the din around, almost tangible. There were the traditional creepy old house noises; creaking, wind whistling, the soft steps of a cat somewhere. Then, of course, there was the voice. I strained to hear, but the words just blended in with the other noises that made up the silence. My eyebrows furrowed and I clenched my eyes shut, concentrating again and let the voice smooth over me. It was comforting, like the sound of rain in the roof. God, life had been stupidly hard lately, having the random but vivid dreams of brunette spikes. The nightmares of shadows substantial enough to drag me down. Then, between those, the completely different dreams that left me sated and empty in the morning. Work was physically demanding, school was mentally demanding, mom was trying to guilt me into going to dads….

I leaned forward, straining again to hear words, because if I could find out what this person was saying, he could give me some answers, and I could wake up and—

—the bed sheets tangle under us. There was nothing that could stop me from creating mind-shattering sensation with him. Not even the shadows I could feel—not see or hear, but feel— coming. I couldn't have cared—

I forcibly refocused my eyes once again and the image vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. The hell was wrong with me? Dreams within dreams? For serious? God, I was on the edge of losing it. I whirled on the balls of my feet. Motion, gotta keep the body busy to keep the mind from doing weird shit. I meandered in the direction the sounds were coming from. My heart beat a little faster than it had been before my little trip to the gutter.

"I know a song that never ever ends, yes, it just goes on and on, my friends—"

What the fuck? I was all ready for some deep answer to all my problems and he was singing a retard song?

The murmuring paused in an unmistakably amused way, I stopped prowling.

"You don't need to tiptoe, Roxas; these floors certainly won't crumble out from under you. Though they look like they might," informed a deep, silk-smooth voice that reminded me of—

—whispers my name and I feel like I could come, I'm sure I almost—

My train of thought screeched to a halt so it could take another detour. I shivered. There's nothing quite like having a random day-dream-in-a-dream about a guy right in front of you. Absolutely priceless.

An amused, mocking chuckle filled my ears and I can't help the stiffening of my spine. He wasn't even saying anything suggestive—he wasn't saying anything at all!—I'd never been so turned on without anyone even touching me. I stared at him, eyes narrowed. He smirked, "You really don't need to remember me," he assured, his smirk turning into a grin. "And don't look so suspicious, I only bite when you want me to…"

—teeth sink into my skin. I lose the ability to stand and the will to hold back my climax. I'm still fully clothed, his hands have done nothing but hold me, yet I—

"I get them too," he purrs, a grin in his voice. His breath ghosts over my skin, my back arches and my lungs refuse to work. The fuck is wrong with me?!?!?!? That's how you know you need to get laid: when a dream person breathing on you is even the slightest bit exciting. "Well, not the same way you do; I actually remember. You, obviously, don't," he replied, mouthing the skin just below my ear. Apparently, the phrase 'personal space' isn't in his vocabulary. "But I know how you feel. The remembrance flirts with you a little; offers to buy a drink, flashes you its panties. It feels close enough to touch but when it looks like you've got a grip on it…" I threw my head back, onto his shoulder, like a dog in heat offering it belly in submission. I moaned as he spoke against my neck, my knees felt like Jell-O™. "But, then again, I had to endure the memories with you right in reach." I feel his grin. "Sort of."

"Uh, I'm sorry," I gasped, dumbly, my head falling forward. I have no idea what in the name of holiness he's on about, and I really didn't care as long as he kept it up.

"I'm your sweetest dream, Roxas," he chuckled, voice full of promise. How he managed that while laughing at me was a mystery. He continued his nibbling and tasting and I felt like heaven was coming down on my head. "When you wake up, you'll wish you were still asleep." Which sounded kind of like a threat, but I really wasn't in the mood to analyze it. His teeth took in more skin and sank in deep; the puncture didn't bother me at all if anything it made me even hotter. "Let's make the most of this."

Dear god, I thought, I can't think I can't think I can't think. I can't hold back a disgustingly needy moan, it hurts my masculinity but dear God dear God. He rolls his tongue over my wound, presumably to taste my blood. And then he sucks. My mouth is open and I'm panting like he's actually doing something interesting something that just ruined my dream boxers. I tilt my head to give him even more. Even thought I think I just came I want more. I turn so he's in the right position and push back grinding into him.

He sets a hand on each hip to hold me still while he holyfuckinggodandstars he grinds into me, giving each thrust a little hook for friction He continues and the edges of my vision grow hazy and my knees buckle fuckI'mabitch like I knew they would

abruptly my sight clears he is kissing down my bare chest though where my shirt went and when exactly we stopped grinding was a mystery

firetruck red spikes trail in the path of the kisses he's leaving

down

down

down

until he reaches

and i realize holyfuck i never had any clothes on and itdoesn'tmatterbecausehe's

histongue

i'm

he glances up and i catch his intense green gaze he grins the little triangles under his eyes grow more pronounced in his pale face

Since when was I horizontal in the first—

I shot up with a gasp, then groan at the sharp ache the movement elicited. What the hell had I done last night? It felt distinctly like I'd gotten smashed and had the best sex ever…. But, then, I'd woken up feeling like that a lot and known for a fact that I hadn't gone out. Absently, I ran a hand through my hair. There was a stinging spot on my neck, like a bee, like a bunch of bees, an entire hive of bees had stung in a circle. Fuck it hurt. It wasn't raised or heated against my fingers when I touched it, it didn't feel any different then the rest of my neck. As I thought, I slowly began to soak in my surroundings. My room was in shadow. Dully, it occurred to me that it was still dark out.

4:56 A.M. read my alarm clock in florescent red. I groaned and rolled back over, burying my face in the pillow. Sleep quickly took hold of my mind; I hadn't realized I was still so tired when I'd first awoken. As if leading my into the waiting dream, a bright green floater flashed behind my eyelids. I couldn't help the smile as I dove head first back into my dreams.