[A.N.] Hello everyone! This idea hit me when i was laying about wasting my time on internet games. It is my first risque fiction that really goes into the lemony side of life. Don't flame the beginner too hard, although constructive criticism would be appreciated. I intend on continuing this. It will be long and confusing but i hope it will thrill and be enjoyed!
~Serene
Was it all a dream? I swear it happened. A chill ran up and down my spine as I recalled it. A cold breeze, a dark shadow and then the warmth only another body can give. If it was a dream, then I had had it many times before but this time it was different. Usually, the dark figure only stayed at the window and watched me sleep. Occasionally I would feel him run his hands through my hair or gently caress my cheek. I remember blushing each time under the heat of his gaze: deep blue pools of midnight and mystery boring into my very soul.
He had been watching me all of my life. I knew it was him. As a child, I felt I had a guardian angel keeping me safe wherever I went. When my parents were killed in that horrible fire I knew it was he that had saved me though my brother swore no one else had been there. That was the first of many times that I continued asking myself if it was just a dream; if HE was just a dream.
His visits began innocent enough. Sometimes I told my friends about my mysterious visitor: some were shocked, some were horrified and some found it 'kinky'. An interesting plethora of reactions to an otherwise seemingly harmless dream.
In class I often found myself day-dreaming, reaching to the spot on my neck where I first felt his unique touch: so intimate and demanding, and yet, so gentle. He never stayed though. Some nights I could swear I felt his arms wrap around me as he buried his face into my hair, but only for a short while. He would be gone before too long leaving me to feel more alone than ever. Most women would be freaked out or even call for some sort of night-time security, but not me. I wasn't afraid of him. I knew that of all the things in the world to fear, my mysterious visitor would never be one of them. Besides, what if it was just a dream?
Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, I felt his presence before my window ever opened.
I opened my eyes and looked to the window as I know I have many times before and saw him there. This time, the moon gave light to my mysterious shadow; a chiseled, handsome face topped by a mess of unruly dark-brown hair and those same dark orbs that remained in my mind. He was taller than I, thought it was hard to tell how much so from my place on my bed. He wore old-fashioned slacks, dark as the night and a deep blue silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down. His pale chest was chiseled with muscles: well developed but not bulky by any means. He was the sort of figure women read about and fantasized of from one of their many romance harlequin novels. I was, it seemed, no different.
He neared the bed, slowly, almost cautiously with an otherworldly grace that made my skin tingle. As if by magic, he was suddenly there, beside me, reaching out one of his calloused hands to gently caress my cheek and tuck a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. He leaned in, a movement that made time seem to stand still before I felt his breath on my skin.
"Relena…" I heard him speak my name: the first word I had ever heard him say and he spoke it like a sweet reverent prayer.
"Heero…" I don't know how I knew his name. It came to me as easily as the name of my favorite cookie or brand of soda and felt just as sweet leaving my lips.
"It's time." I hear him almost purr in a low rumble. 'time for what?' I found myself briefly thinking before I felt it: his lips, warm silky and soft… his tongue massaging that spot where my neck met my collar bone. "You're mine" I heard him hiss with a possessiveness that made me almost melt. Then I felt IT.
Two simultaneous punctures, a brief sting of pain before the warmth of pleasure replaced it. I heard a moan of desire and soon realized it was my own. I didn't know this man and yet I knew him better than anyone. I had no idea who he was or what he wanted with me but I shamelessly felt myself giving in to him. His hands found the ties to my pajama pants. When had I lost my shirt?
I no longer cared. I felt his hands on my breasts, kneading them tenderly, pinching the nipple eliciting a groan deep from the back of my throat. I felt his hands move down to my waste, my underwear long gone, felt his body move over mine. I never felt his mouth leave my neck but his eyes locked with mine, searching for something; consent maybe? I nodded, helplessly lost in the euphoria of his touch. I felt something else penetrate me, this time in my most private of places. I gasped as pain shot through me from the invasion before I slipped away into pure pleasure. I felt him inside me, moving slowly at first, filling me all the way. Finally, his lips were on mine and I could taste the coppery sweetness of blood: my blood.
I knew what he was. I think I always knew but I didn't care. I heard myself call out his name as he whispered my own, nibbling my ear. I reached for him, running my hands up and down his perfect body, begging him to take me harder, faster. He continued to pound into me with almost a predatory need and I heard him almost growl. I felt the need for him consume my very being, my flesh calling for more of him, begging to be one with him. He thrust harder, lifting me up off the bed into an almost seated position allowing him deeper entrance and I welcomed him. He was right: I was his. I always had been and I knew I always would be.
Finally, I heard him repeating my name, a continuous prayer that I joined with his own name as he moved faster and faster, the pace of his thrusts increasing. It happened so fast yet seemed to last forever, the warmth that sprang from my inside, running though my body with toe-curling pleasure. I heard my name tear past his lips once more as I felt the warmth of his seed, the essence of his being pour into my womb where it always belonged.
I was his and he was mine and while I didn't exactly know what had happened or why, I knew that this would be the first night of many where our unspoken vow of devotion and belonging would be consummated and shared. I mean, what harm could there be in wishing for the re-occurrence of such a dream?
