A/N: Sorry guys, progress with this might now be slow due to reasons beyond my control but I will keep going. Reviews and feedback appreciated.
Dani sat bolt upright in bed. She was sweating. A dream. Deep breaths. Just a dream.
She glanced at the clock's angry red digital display; 02.47.
As she drew up her knees to her chest and exhaled long and hard, she tried to recall as much as she could about it. This time it hadn't been about Nevikov. Recently, most dreams had been about him in a literal sense. Kind of like flashbacks. Then there were the more ambiguous kind; falling from the sky, running down a spiral staircase in flight from something only for the perspective in the dreamscape to pan out and reveal that the staircase had no bottom, she would be running forever. Loss of control, she figured, all to do with having been kidnapped and held hostage. But this time it had been literal and it had been nothing to do with the lanky Russian guy in the terrible sweats and the gold chain.
Sunlight. Bright, bright sunlight and spots of shade. The sun shining down and passing thorough a filter of leaves, casting odd shadows on his freckled forehead and cheeks. The smell of grass, chlorophyll...did that have a smell? Well, in her dream it did.
Tiny spotlights of heat from the sun, pleasure in her shoulders and lower back, and then cold; cold that she was wrestling with, enveloping and gently defrosting. His lips were cold. And tasted of cherries in a synthetic way. Like cherry cola. The damned snow cone. She was kissing him and he was willingly being kissed. Right there on the park bench, in public, on duty. She held either side of his face and kissed him slowly and insistently, luxuriating in it, sucking on his lips as they slowly got warmer and less cherry flavored. He held her back, hands near her waist, under her jacket, over her shirt. His hands were warm like the sun. Hot and cold, the sensations persisted.
Full on making out, the kind of kissing you did at fifteen when kissing was the end in itself, rather than a precursor to anything else. That often took place on park benches, too. There was no sound in the dream, nobody spoke and she couldn't hear the noises of the park. She just felt the sensation of growing arousal and the different textures; his hair between her fingers, the cotton of his shirt on his collar contrasting with the skin of the nape of his neck. Cold cherry lips, warm tongue. Like sucking on ice cubes.
She grew breathless and kissed him harder, faster. He matched her, although it was clear she was the aggressor here. She was tilted forward, feasting on his mouth.
And then they broke. Faces still close, he opened his eyes. The second she saw the impossible blue of his irises she had snapped awake.
"Fuck...", Dani whispered to herself as she raked her hand through her hair.