Title: 'Sex Dreams and Coffee'

Author: Meggles00

Pairing: Nathan/Haley

Rating: M - Adult Rated

Disclaimer: No ownership here.

Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers as this is AU, but a warning for the M rating.

Summary: Haley POV story. "I keep having this one, weird, recurring dream. In the dream, I'm sort of a "fly on the wall" watching myself have hot, steamy, sex with a guy whose face I can't see."

Author's Notes: I started writing this when OTH had it's recent hiatus, and I was about to publish it but forgot to when I went on a lengthy hiatus of my own (surprise vacation). Anyways, after getting back, I changed this a little bit – there's not much to change, as it's just a one-shot – but I had originally written this to just "fill the gap" of the hiatus.

I'm also taking the plunge of writing a multi-parter, it won't be a gargantuan story, but hopefully I will get the first part up shortly, and you can let me know if you want to read more of it.

Thanks, Megan

I keep having this one, weird, recurring dream. In the dream, I'm sort of a "fly on the wall" watching myself have hot, steamy, sex with a guy whose face I can't see.

I'm actually looking down on us – he's on top of me – and it's like the room is fogging up from our heavy breathing, and I can see our bodies are covered in a light sheen of perspiration.

The room is fairly non-descript; just basic muted tones on the walls and Santa Fe inspired designs on the rugs, which cover parts of the wooden floorboards. I don't actually recognise the room, but it's a dream, so I'm not really gonna over analyze that part of it.

Anyway, we're moving rhythmically under a stone-colored sheet, which is starting to move lower down his back.

In last night's version, I notice a few more things.

I'm noticing this guy has one of the sexiest toned backs I've ever seen. I mean, really - his shoulders are broad, and well defined muscles are moving under lightly tanned skin. It's a complete turn on. In the dream, I can see my hands are running up and down his spine, occasionally stopping to grip on those to-die-for shoulders. I also notice that one of my hands moves up to his neck and into his hair. Really lovely, thick, dark, hair.

I see him start to move down my body, placing kisses all over me, and I must be some kind of weirdo, because I know I'm turned on when I see my breasts exposed as he moves even lower, and I still see the wetness on my nipples from where he's been.

Why the hell can't I see his face?

The sheet is further down his back and is now only covering his ass, which I can tell is also toned to perfection. My hands are moving down his amazingly hot back, and come to rest on his amazingly hot ass. That move has him pushing further into me and still all I can hear is our heavy, frantic breathing.

He has moved back up my body and is kissing the side of my neck, but the "fly on the wall" me is back zooming in on his ass, and I swear I haven't seen anything hotter than watching the slight clench under the sheets, as he's thrusting up and in me. It's getting hot in this dream. "Fly on the wall" me needs to leave soon before I self-combust.

I'm still trained on his backside, and it's moving faster and faster, and the breathing from both of us is getting faster and louder, and now I can hear my breathing turn into rapid moaning. I see my legs coming out from under the sheets, and moving up his sides even higher. The movement has the sheet falling away from him completely, and that just about does it for both of us. The breathing, and the panting, and the moaning are building and building, and…

Yeah - I wake up. I wake up panting and breathing, my legs are squeezed together around my cheap cotton sheets, and I'm hugging the crap out of my spare pillow, more as a friction reliever for my nipples than anything else.

I really don't want to know what Freud or Jung would say about my dreams. I don't care about manifest or latent content. As my friend Brooke would say: "Sounds like you just need to get laid to me." She's a certified genius that gal.

I take my usual route from the campus to the local coffee shop, passing a small local park on my way. In the distance, there's a basketball half-court, and I make out four guys running around in a shirts versus skins game. I love it when there's shirts versus skins!

It's hard to tell from where I'm standing, but I don't recognize any of the guys as fellow students at college, but then again, I've not really been one to notice the finer details. Actually, that's not true. I just don't really notice the jocks, as I've always thought my "type" of guy is one whose head is always buried in his books. Like me.

Today, though, I'm noticing.

I keep walking a few more minutes to the coffee shop, and have my java jolt at one of the outside tables. The day is glorious and it would seriously be a sin to sit inside when the weather is putting on such a fine display.

Speaking of fine displays, I notice the four guys from the basketball court are approaching the coffee shop. What a shame to see the skins team back in shirts. As they draw closer, I go back to reading the local newspaper, but keep the guys in my periphery. They brush past my table to open the door, and I look up into the bluest eyes I've ever seen when I hear a quiet "sorry".

I smile, probably looking like a goof, mutter "no problem", and go back to reading the paper. I have no idea what I'm reading, so I hope the damn thing isn't upside down, or I'm going to look even more stupid than I already do. I'm also pretty sure I have a blush from head to toe, so the longer I can keep my head down, the better.

I have the same dream again the next night.

Strange room – check.

Fly on the wall view of me and the unknown hottie – check.

A tangle of limbs, mixed with our heavy breathing – check and check.

And for tonight's performance, my partner will be the bearer of the bluest eyes courtesy of the basketball player from this morning. However, due to my ditzy moment when he brushed past me, I never really took in the rest of his features, but I do know he possessed the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen in a man.

So now, as my view changes and I'm underneath him, his head is dipped low enough, so that I am only seeing his eyes, as he kisses down my body. The touching and the moving together is becoming frantic, and the breathing is heavy and fast. I can feel myself about to explode – there is tightening low in my body, like a coil, and I can feel it about to unravel…

And then…I have got to stop waking up before the dream, ahem, climaxes. I need to make another coffee run.

As I'm walking to the coffee house, I'm searching for wallet in my satchel. I'm not great at multi-tasking, so I almost forget to look up and check the basketball court for Mr Blue Eyes.

Somebody up there likes me, as I see what I believe to be the same four guys from yesterday, goofing around on the court. Mr Blue Eyes has insanely lush dark hair – I know that much – and I'm pretty sure he's as hot as hell up close and personal – so I just hope he decides he needs a java jolt sooner rather than later.

I'm sitting at the same outdoor table, and I'm skimming through the local paper, mock outrage on my face as I read some article about the local council implementing unreasonable levies on residents. I immediately assume there's some sort of conspiracy, and that one or more councilmen is profiting from this, and I shake my head in disgust as I turn the page. Local sports. Uggh. I say that now, but before I can tear up the page, I notice the local paper has a small blurb about our college sports teams, in particular, the basketball team. I'm only drawn to the article, as the accompanying photo is of an extremely hot looking player, who seems to resemble my half-court hottie down the road. When I say resemble, obviously it's wishful thinking on my part. All I can see in the photo is a tall, lean guy, bulging biceps, and there's that lovely dark hair. *Le Sigh*. The caption shows his name as "Nathan Scott".

I commit the name to memory, close the newspaper, and head back inside to order another beverage.

I'm reading about the different types of coffee beans in the Fair Trade Program as I'm waiting for my lengthy-named coffee. That's when I hear four male voices joking and laughing as they enter the shop, and I distinctly hear one of them say: "You're just lucky you won, or this round would be on you, Nate!"

Nate. Nathan.

My head jerks up, and I look over to the group of guys. And there he is. Mr Blue Eyes from yesterday is Nathan Scott…Nate. Inside my head it feels like pieces from a puzzle are tumbling into place. I know I must look like a stupid idiot, but I cannot help but stare at him. He gives his order and walks towards me to wait for it to be made. As he approaches, my order is filled, and I walk the short distance to the small dispensary with the cream, sugar and stirrers. As I turn back around, I fail to anticipate how close he is, and I accidently bump into him.

This time it is me who offers the quiet "sorry", and as I move to walk past him, I feel my arm being touched lightly. We both stay rooted to the spot, and then he says "no problem, but we've gotta stop meeting like this." And then he smiles at me. Actually, it's more of a smirk, but it's sexy as hell and infectious to the point where I'm smiling back, and then I realise he's still touching my arm.

I look down at where he's touching my arm – he does too – and then he slowly draws back his hand. "Sorry" he says to me. It's something we seem to be saying to each other, and I just smile back at him with: "No problem, but if you keep touching me like that, people will think you like me". Again, split second silence, then he drawls out in a low, sexy tone, followed by a wink: "I would certainly hope so."

I'm sure I'm covered head to toe again with one huge blush, and then I slowly turn and walk outside to my table, picking up the paper again, but not reading a single word.

Moments later, Nathan and his friends walk out - most likely back to the court – and as they reach the kerb, I see Nathan stop and say something to his friends before turning back and heading back in my direction. His friends watch for a moment, lamely fist bumping each other, before walking away. All it takes is a couple of strides and he's at my table.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

I keep thinking about that day at the coffee shop. That was a great day. We sat and talked for a few hours, and I knew my mind was wandering off to the dreams I have. I remember thinking to myself "well, here's the featured player in your dreams" and I distinctly remember how well Nathan featured in those dreams that night. Yeah, that day at the coffee shop was great – he asked me out on a date – he said we should get coffee sometime. Ha ha, funny guy that Nathan Scott.

So here we are, a few weeks later, and we're in his bed. His room is not really in muted colors, but he does have some sort of patterned rug on the wooden floors, so I have part of the dream correct. The other part that is correct, is how amazing it feels to have this man surrounding me with his body. Every touch, every action, is actually better than the dream – as if it wouldn't be.

There's so much writhing and delicious friction between our bodies – I used to laugh at people who would use the word "devour" to describe their sexcapades, but I honestly think it's going to happen right now. We cannot get enough of each other, but at the same time, there's a hidden tenderness to it all. It's hard to explain, but I think because we feel so strongly about each other, it's intensifying the experience. We're not selfish with each other; it's not about the individual, it's about mutual satisfaction.

The breathing from both of us is getting faster and louder, and now I can hear my breathing turn into rapid moaning. We're both so close, and the breathing and moaning are building and building, and…

And the best part? I know I'm not going to wake up and miss *this* climax.

xxx

Thanks everyone. More details on the multi-parter later.