Stuff of Dreams
Disclaimer: (Don't u get sick of this?) Yes they're all mine. J.K.Rowling gave them to me. Not.
A/n: Er…well, sorry for not updating my other stories…but I have my exams soon so basically I don't have time to write. This was written in class cos it was then that the muse hit me…and you don't have to tell me what weird stuff I have on my mind during Biology…funny thing is we were doing tropisms…
***
I want him.
Want him with all my being.
Want him with all my soul.
Every time I see him, I feel an overwhelming rage of desire.
It has gone beyond hope.
Now it's an obsession.
Defiant, taunting eyes. Always challenging me. Unruly hair that is simply screaming for me to tangle my hands in it and pull hard, making him submit to my will. A laughing, quick mouth, begging me to cover it with mine.
He haunts my day at school and my dreams at night. My dreams are always the same – him submitting to my wishes. Sometimes willingly, sometimes I force him to – and I have to admit that it's more fun when he fights back.
Ah yes. With such a fighting spirit, how could he submit willingly?
Images haunt my mind. James, lying helpless and angry on the bed. Manacles bind his wrists to the bed, leaving him little room for movement. Unclothed. Blood covering his body. Visible marks of my excitement on his body. Hearing him curse me and scream defiance as I please him and his body responds to my ministrations. The taste of him and his blood on my lips. His smell permeating my body and my mind. Our bodies, one – as he loves it and hates me.
Such is the stuff of my dreams.
Fin
A/n: Er…I think the last sentence I've read it somewhere before, but I couldn't resist using it here…if anyone knows where it's taken from (it just might not be taken from anywhere, but it's really familiar…) then tell me please! Criticisms welcome.
Disclaimer: (Don't u get sick of this?) Yes they're all mine. J.K.Rowling gave them to me. Not.
A/n: Er…well, sorry for not updating my other stories…but I have my exams soon so basically I don't have time to write. This was written in class cos it was then that the muse hit me…and you don't have to tell me what weird stuff I have on my mind during Biology…funny thing is we were doing tropisms…
***
I want him.
Want him with all my being.
Want him with all my soul.
Every time I see him, I feel an overwhelming rage of desire.
It has gone beyond hope.
Now it's an obsession.
Defiant, taunting eyes. Always challenging me. Unruly hair that is simply screaming for me to tangle my hands in it and pull hard, making him submit to my will. A laughing, quick mouth, begging me to cover it with mine.
He haunts my day at school and my dreams at night. My dreams are always the same – him submitting to my wishes. Sometimes willingly, sometimes I force him to – and I have to admit that it's more fun when he fights back.
Ah yes. With such a fighting spirit, how could he submit willingly?
Images haunt my mind. James, lying helpless and angry on the bed. Manacles bind his wrists to the bed, leaving him little room for movement. Unclothed. Blood covering his body. Visible marks of my excitement on his body. Hearing him curse me and scream defiance as I please him and his body responds to my ministrations. The taste of him and his blood on my lips. His smell permeating my body and my mind. Our bodies, one – as he loves it and hates me.
Such is the stuff of my dreams.
Fin
A/n: Er…I think the last sentence I've read it somewhere before, but I couldn't resist using it here…if anyone knows where it's taken from (it just might not be taken from anywhere, but it's really familiar…) then tell me please! Criticisms welcome.