She feels lost, yet so at home, a strange mix of sensations.
The hands ghosting over her skin makes goosebumps appear and she arches her back, craving a more solid touch.
Teasing hands that barely touch her nipples, fingers that leave the sensation of clawing nails on her back.
It's addictive, but not enough. She wants to really feel, to have proof it's not just a warm wind caressing her bare skin, not just another dream.
She wants to feel sheets under her, hear the crackling of the fire she lit as she got ready for bed.
But the sensation of someone's skin, someone's hands and fingers and breath on her is too much, too encompassing for her to feel anything else.
She can't see anything, it's all touch and scent, and she doesn't know if she can hear anything.
It's all so quiet, yet not in an eerie way, even though she wishes she could hear something.
At least the familiar smell is there, that comforting smell that reminds her a bit of earth and leaves and the woods, but most of all leaves her feeling safe and comforted and protected.
She's probably making some sort of sounds, sounds of pleasure, but she cannot hear them herself. But it feels so good, so she doesn't worry about it, she just rides the waves of pleasure going through her.
The hands touching her feel more real now, not as ethereal. She can feel the calluses, and the fact that they're definitely male, long and strong fingers, fingers she knows but can't recognise.
Warmth and the feeling of being loved spreads through her and had she been able to hear, she would have heard herself call out a name.
But she doesn't.
What she does hear, however, is the sound of a mug hitting her floor and breaking, spilling out the warm fluid it held only moments ago.
Opening her eyes, Abbie looks up at Ichabod Crane. The look on his face lets her know he feels out of sorts, that he doesn't know what to do. Her looking at him clearly doesn't make it any easier, so she looks down at the broken mug and spilled coffee on her livingroom floor.
Waking up in such a manner leaves Abbie not remembering what she dreamt about, and so she cannot understand why Ichabod looks the way he does or why he dropped the mug.
Not knowing quite how to broach the subjects, she yawns and stretches. When she opens her eyes again, she tries to pretend she didn't just see Ichabod's eyes hurriedly look away from the area of her stomach exposed by her t-shirt riding up.
"So, Crane, when did you get here? I normally hear it when someone opens the door, and I know you usually wait for permission before entering, but…"
"My apologies, lieutenant. I rang the bell as I normally do, and called for you but you did not reply. So I took the liberty to look through the window, and saw you asleep on your sofa. Knowing you should not sleep for too long at this hour, I took it upon myself to enter as you gave me one of your keys, and when I failed at waking you, I thought I would make you some coffee before trying again. I do hope I did nothing wrong."
She knows he speaks the truth, but there's something he's not telling her, and it worries her, because he's not like this normally.
"You didn't do anything wrong Crane, I was simply sleeping too hard to be woken as easily as I usually do. And thank you for the coffee, even though it's on the floor." Abbie groans slightly when she gets up – sleeping on the couch isn't the most comfortable thing, but she figured it would work better for a nap than the bed.
"Is there any coffee left, or should I make some more? I'm not sure about you, but I could really use some," she says as she goes to get a rug and broom to clean up the mess.
But when she gets back, Ichabod takes the things from her and starts to clean up, saying it's only right he do it, because he was the one to spill it after all.
Right now, Abbie is too groggy to bother to argue with him, so she pours herself another cup of coffee, because it turns out Ichabod had made enough for at least three cups.
She pours one for him as well, and they sit down on the couch in front of the fire, which he'd stoked and added more wood to while she was still asleep. She's not cold, but holds her mug tightly between her hands, as it's a comforting thing to do for her.
They sit in silence for a while, before Abbie finally opens her mouth to ask about Ichabod's behaviour.
"Crane, uhm, when I woke up, you didn't look, well, normal. Something about the way you looked at me and the fact you dropped the mug. It's clear there's something you're not telling me, and I wanna know what." She knows she probably could have phrased it differently, but she wants to know.
It's clear to see he'd hoped to escape this conversation, because his body tightens ever so slightly, and it's clear to Abbie that he tries not to turn away from her. She doesn't understand what might have caused him to be like this; it's so unlike him.
Then it's her turn to stiffen. She was sleeping, he was there, and he did say he'd tried to wake her. So she must have been in a deep sleep, which for her meant only one thing.
Shit!
"Crane," she starts off, a bit uncertainty colouring her voice. "Did I say something in my sleep?" It's stupid to think so, but to her it almost seems the world is holding its breath, and she fears what he'll say to her, what she'll learn she said but doesn't remember.
"Yes…" It's a reluctant answer, a bit drawn out, and now she knows that if she truly wants to know, if she's going to try and fix this, whatever this is, she's got to make him talk. Because it seems this is something that will be left hanging between them if they don't fix this, and she can't have that happen.
"Would you care to tell me then? Because I know that sometimes, when I'm exhausted, I sleep very soundly and that I talk when I do. I used to do it often as a kid, but it's very rarely now." She takes a deep breath. "But I need to know, Ichabod. Because whatever it was, it affected you and I can't let that come in the way of us working together and seeing each other on a daily basis and I know you don't want that either. So just, tell me, please?"
Ichabod sits still for so long, Abbie gets worried. He only reacted when she said his first name, and then it was only barely.
His coffee sits on the table, forgotten and cold, next to her own finished mug, and it makes her think that maybe he only accepted a mug because she was having one. But he was distracted because of the conversation, and forgot all about it.
When she reaches out to touch him, he flinches, making her remove her hand instantly and move away from him in shock. He's never treated her this way before, always the polite gentleman, and it makes her wonder what she's done. Or, more correctly, shat she's said.
"My apologies, lieutenant. Of course I should tell you what you said." He sounds apologetic, but more because of the fact that he will say it, rather than the fact that he tried to keep it from her.
She feels cold right to her core, scared now of what he'll say.
"Miss Mills, you called out my name. In your dream."
She doesn't know how to react to that. It's not like she's never called out for him because she was scared for him. So why…?
Oh no.
Please.
Not that.
"In what way, Cra… Ichabod?" She forces herself to keep her voice as steady as she can, but it's hard.
"In pleasure." The words fall heavy from his lips, like he just announced someone had died.
It feels as if the world has paused momentarily, and Abbie feels frozen in time, but her mind is racing, trying desperately to come up with some sort of excuse or apology or something that can explain the situation.
But she can't, because she now remembers her dream, every little detail.
She remembers the way his hands felt when stroking her, touching her, bringing her to her climax. She remembers the taste of his mouth, the sounds he made and the pure scent of him, something so male and primal it's sending shivers down her body.
"Shit."
Ichabod looks at her from the corner of his eye, because he can't look at her properly. And of course he can't! He just overheard her calling out his name in a wet dream, and then it turns out she can't even remember it when startled awake.
Abbie hides her face in her hands, muttering some word he understand and some he pretends he doesn't.
"Did you… Have you dreamt of me in this manner before?" he inquires, hesitating. "I am not unfamiliar with these kinds of dreams, if I am not too forward by saying that."
She stiffens next to him, hardly daring to believe the words coming from him. He sounds cautious, as if what they're talking about can break their friendship. He might be right, but Abbie will try to heal it as much as she can.
"About Katrina?" She asks, wishing instantly she could take back the words.
"And you." The words are so low and soft-spoken; she thinks she imagined it at first.
But then he looks at her, really looks at her, and it's the answer. That was why he was so uncertain about telling her what he'd heard. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he'd dreamt about her the same way.
"Abbie? What are you thinking?" Clearly there's something about her facial expression that makes him ask her the question. Then she realises he said her first name.
"I'm thinking," she takes a deep breath, "that we should kiss."
They move at the same time, lips meeting in a needy kiss. Abbie might just have let out a whimper, but she doesn't care. She opens her mouth when his tongue traces her bottom lip, and the taste of him is just like she dreamt, just as kissing him is.
And then his hands move to cup her face, before moving down to circle her, to drag her closer, and yeah, that was a moan.
Just as his taste, the feel of his fingers on her bare arms are like she imagined; calloused and strong, but oh so careful.
Ichabod pulls back for a moment, and then he kissed the corners of her mouth, her eyelids and then every inch of her face is being covered in feather light kisses.
She's starting to get wet, and when she push him backwards and climb on top of him, she can feel he's just as turned on as her.
So Abbie does the only thing that seams reasonable to her; she starts taking off her top, and moves to remove his.
Ichabod doesn't stop her; instead he helps her remove her clothes before he takes off his own.
"Bed," he says, and Abbie wants to protest, but she figures it would probably be better in the bedroom. He lifts her up and carries her bridal style, and sets her carefully down on her bed.
Not wanting to waste a single moment, she grabs his hand and pulls him down on top of her.
Instantly his right hand starts massaging her clitoris, and he's intent on taking care of her needs before his own. Abbie's left hand moves to the back of his head, and she pulls him close for a kiss, before moving both hands to stroke his back.
His fingers are perfect, she thinks, so skilled and long and warm. It doesn't take long for him to bring her over the edge, and she clings to him as he continues to stroke her through her orgasm.
When her breath returns to normal, she tells him to get a condom out of the drawer in her bedside table and helps him put it on.
Before entering her, he uses his fingers to prepare her, to make sure it won't hurt. She falls even more for him because of it.
She tries to understand how what she dreamt can be so like reality, but when he enters her, all her thoughts and senses are focused on him, and the world seems to only resolve around the two of them, and she never wants to return to reality.
They move together perfectly, and when she nears her second orgasm, he uses one of his hands to stroke her clit, making sure she'll come once more before he does.
She calls out his name the second time, and that's what makes him follow right after. They ride it out together, and Ichabod gently pulls out of her, before lying down beside her on the bed.
When he's regained some of his breath, he kisses her before going to the bathroom to throw away the condom.
He takes a wet cloth with him when he returns and washes Abbie, and leaves again to put it with the laundry.
This time when he returns, he climbs into bed beside her and pulls the covers up over them, and then curls up around her, holding her as she drifted off to sleep.
It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep either, but he stays awake for just a moment more, so he can put out the fire in the livingroom.
He wraps himself around her again upon his return and looks down at her, before drifting off himself.