A/N: I would like to dedicate this chapter of Citrus Flavored Tang to SorugaoBandgeek. You requested Mammon and I hope I gave you something good to fill that request.


You were already asleep when he entered your room. That was good news on his side. People's minds were always more susceptible when they were asleep. There'd be no struggle from your mind or your body like there normally would be. He knew all too well how much you hated having him work his little 'tricks' on you. Really, he didn't know why he was doing this anyways. It made no sense. After all, what he was about to do was just a waste of time and time is money. But he was doing it already, concentrating and using his power and clearing his own mind to better focus on yours.

You had no idea what made you open your eyes. You normally had no problems sleeping through anything, a trait that had served you well in the Varia where screaming and the sounds of fighting reigned during all hours of the night and day. What you did know though was that what you woke up to was not your bedroom where you had fallen asleep. Your bedroom was rather sparse after all, generic and bland much like most of the Varia member's rooms. Those that weren't in the core seven that was, those that hadn't earned the luxurious rooms the upper echelon enjoyed.

This place you were in was even more sensuous and decadent than any room you'd ever seen in the Varia mansion. Even through your sleep-blurry eyes, you could tell that this room was one you'd never seen and that it was quite nice and very expensively done up. It looked, in fact, to your mind, like an old-fashioned library, the kind you saw in period movies in the rich old Earl's house, full of dark wood (mahogany, you decided, it was mahogany, you could tell by the reddish gleam of the highly polished wood) and antique, beautiful furniture that looked strong and yet, was ornately carved at the same time. Little trinkets and objets d'art were scattered around tastefully, all of the highest quality and the wall that you could see from your position had a splendid Dali hanging on it. Really, this room was something you'd expect from a period that had long gone by, full of old-world glamour and taste.

You blinked a couple more times, trying to get the last traces of sleep from your eyes. Raising yourself up on your arms from your former lying down position, you took a good look around you, turning your head this way and that. The first thing you were absolutely sure of was that it was definitely not the twin bed that you'd fallen asleep in that you woke up in. A simple touch was enough to identify this fact and a quick glance downwards confirmed it. Though it really was much more than a quick glance as your eyes widened, taking in the beautiful piece of furniture you were lying on. Okay, so you might be a huge dork for it, but you'd always loved antique things and the whole brand of unique sensuality and glamour they had. And this, this chaise lounge you were lying on was an exquisite piece of antique furniture, early Victorian judging by the ornate carvings of the mahogany wood that made up the legs and the border. The back half of the chaise was raised, the rest being open, and the velvet fabric that covered it was soft, sumptuous velvet. You felt like an old-world princess…or at least a Duchess or such.

But for all its grandiosity, the room was weird, you thought as you took another look around. It was the mirrors that did it. Everywhere you looked, there seemed to be a mirror placed somewhere. Small mirrors, medium sized mirrors, big mirrors. And all of them seemed to be the distorted, fun-house like mirrors that never showed things as they were but gave you a twisted and warped version of the reflection.

There could only be one explanation as to why you had woken up in this odd room with its slightly unrealistic feeling. This could only be a dream, you decided with an insight of amazing clarity. After all, everyone had had dreams where they thought they were awake, hadn't they? If this was a dream, you thought, you could always pinch yourself to wake up if it got terrifying or bad but for now…for now, it wouldn't hurt to see where this dream would lead, would it? After all, it might be one of those wonderful dreams, full of wonder and glory, dreams with handsome men and beautiful people and places. Lord, was it weird to be thinking about dreams in a dream?

Before you could answer that internal question though, a voice cut through the air, soft and quiet and vaguely familiar, though you couldn't quite place it.

"So you're finally awake?"

Bringing a hand up to hastily rub your eyes, effectively clearing out the last of your sleep fogged brain muddle, you turned your head (and your gaze) to where you thought the voice had came from only to find yourself staring into the scrunched up reflection from one of the trick mirrors. You whipped your head around to the spot where you thought the person should be to cast a reflection in that particular mirror only to find yourself staring into yet another mirror, this one casting an elongated reflection. The only detail you could make out was that the figure was wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up to obscure half his face. That and he looked vaguely like a character from one of the Final Fantasy games. Note to self, you thought, do not play Final Fantasy games before falling asleep.

With that mental note jotted down, you really had time to focus on how utterly disconcerting this whole situation was while your eyes flickered here and there, searching for the person. You had the uncomfortable feeling of someone watching you, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickling and standing on end. Feeling a tiny bit on edge (and utterly curious as to who was in this dream with you, friend or foe), you rose off the chaise lounge, your feet hitting marble floors that should, by all realistic standards, feel cold on the feet but instead felt warm and smooth, like varnished, sun-warmed glass.

"Who's there?" you called out, looking around. The silence seemed to stretch on and on though only a couple of moments could've gone by. Then you felt it, seemingly out of nowhere, a cool touch of hands along your skin. Fingers dragged, soft and cool, up the exposed skin of your arms. You shivered despite it not feeling bad, slowly turning your head to catch a glimpse of whoever was touching you. But whoever it was was much quicker than you as the hands that had been on your arms a second ago were now situated elsewhere. One hand lay on your left shoulder, thumb circling almost tenderly over the skin there, slipping under the delicate strap of your nightdress. The other hand was stroking over your jaw, fingers coming up to sweep across your right cheek as a small dissenting noise was heard from behind you. Neither hand was holding you in an overly tight grip but there was enough force in them to prevent you from turning your head anymore or from turning around all together.

"Muh. No peeking."

Your eyes widened at his words, another small tremor running through your body.

"Why not?" you asked quietly as his fingers kept running gently over your skin, your words coming out soft and a bit muffled sounding as you unconsciously held back most of your breath.

"It wouldn't be as much fun if you peeked."

Your body stilled at this, not even a blink coming as you stood stock-still. Your breath that you'd been holding was released in a soft moan as, despite nothing more happening than innocent touching, tingles seemed to shoot their way through your entire body, prickling and tingling, setting every nerve ending on edge, sensitive to the slightest wisp of wind. You'd caught the naughty, sexual edge to the man's words and the tone in which he'd said them and it seemed all this 'fantasy man' that lurked in this dream needed to turn you on was mere suggestions, though you hoped he'd go much farther than that.

Your eyes drifted shut, your eyelashes resting against your cheekbones, breath soft and uneven. You had given up on trying to see him. After all, you figured it would be much more interesting to see where this dream went if you complied with his no peeking rule. You had no doubt this dream would end up being sensual and most likely sexual. That was good. You enjoyed these sorts of dreams and surprisingly enough, you only had them rarely.

"Good girl," you heard him whisper, warm breath fanning over the skin of your shoulder and neck. You drew in a breath, lolling your head to the right as you felt soft, slightly chapped lips on your skin. They were innocent kisses, barely more than mere touches of his lips on your shoulder as he worked his way up to your neck. But there was something about them that made them feel anything but innocent, which made the kissing and touching feel darker, more sinister, and much sexier. It must be that whole 'pull of the unknown', the 'pull of doing something you know you shouldn't', the inherent sense of danger and deviousness that was making it feel that way, you thought.

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts though. After all, why think about stupid things like that. You could easily think about those things later, after you had woken up. Wasn't that half the fun of naughty dreams after all? The thinking about them, reliving them and analyzing them for days afterwards – wasn't that the fun of XXX-rated dreams? And believe me; it was much more fun to be in the moment instead of thoughts.

Your 'mystery man' in the cloak and hood had worked his slow, sensual teasing up over your shoulder to the junction point of your neck and shoulder and things were slowly heating up. His lips were still just barely caressing your skin as they passed over that junction point but there was an inner heat to his kisses now, the pressure getting slowly firmer. You felt the warm, wet softness of his tongue as it darted out to lick its way up your neck to below your jaw-line before his mouth really went to work on you.

You were putty in his hands and you weren't ashamed to admit it. For some reason (probably because you were some sick fetishist, you thought self-deprecatingly), the fact that you couldn't see him and didn't know who he was was only making this experience that much better. You couldn't remember ever getting turned on just by kisses alone. And it just innocent kisses for the most part and simply on one isolated part of your body so far. He hadn't moved to any of the 'hot spots', hadn't appeared in front of you. No, he was still behind you, licking and kissing up and down your neck.

Not that it really stayed just mere kissing for too long. Your lover for the moment, despite his gentleness, wasn't much for patience. He wanted to touch, to feel your skin under his hands and he wasn't going to keep himself waiting for that. His hands grasped the straps of your night-dress, drawing the down and over your shoulders. You willingly helped him, eagerly slipping your arms out of the straps, allowing him to push the night-dress down over your breasts where it fell unhampered to the floor, puddling around your feet.

Nothing was blocking your body from him now, save a pair of tiny, lacy underwear, a fact that he took full advantage of. His hands automatically shot down to your breasts, cupping them in his hands. Your breasts, already sensitive, your nipples taut and begging for attention, were kneaded and cupped, his fingers dragging lightly, almost teasingly, across your skin. You arched into his touch, groaning, wanting more than he was giving you. You heard him chuckle softly behind you before making a soft shushing noise. Letting out a whimper, squeezing your eyes more tightly closed, you bucked your hips backwards, rubbing against him, satisfied somewhat to feel the hard length of his clothed erection brushing against you.

It was his turn to groan, bucking his hips against your body this time as his hands tightened around your breasts, a finger coming up to brush against a pebbled nipple, making you gasp out. Taking your nipple between two fingers, he squeezed it gently, rolling it in his fingers while his other hand went downwards, not wasting any time in slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear.

His hand on your breast alternated between teasing and pinching your nipples and squeezing and kneading your breasts, switching between the two. The hand between your legs was quite busy as well, his fingers sliding up and down the slick inner warmth of your folds before he plunged a finger into you, eliciting a loud moan. He pumped that finger inside you a few times before taking it out. A second later, you felt something push against your mouth and you instinctively opened your lips, sucking on his finger, the taste of yourself overwhelming your mouth.

A moment later, the finger was taken out of your mouth. You felt a small shiver of anticipation as you felt the hand on your breast taken away as well, both hands settling on your hips a second later. A burst of cool air hit you as your last remaining clothing was stripped off. Eyes still closed, you allowed yourself to be guided as his hands steered you forward and positioned you. You figured you were on the chaise lounge again by the feel of velvet against your knees and mahogany against your hands. You were bent over, face down and legs spread apart.

The sound of a zipper being unfastened was all you heard, your breath increasing with just that sound. Your body was abuzz and you were near desperate with anticipation and need. It seemed forever before you felt him again, your body trembling and your nerves on end, hopelessly turned on. Then his hands descended and you felt them on your skin as he grasped your hips, the couch sinking in a bit as he settled himself behind you. The next second you could feel it, the large head of his cock slipping and sliding over your slick folds before coming to rest at your entrance.

You couldn't help it. You wanted it to bad. As soon as you felt him that close to entering you, so close to giving you what you wanted so badly, you gritted your teeth and scrunched your eyes shut, thrusting backwards with all your might, taking him inside you inch by inch, exalting in his strangled gasp of pleasure as he found himself in you. Before he could start thrusting, you were already bucking against him, setting a pace to drive yourself mad. You pulled forward before slamming back onto him, taking all of him into you. You didn't waste a movement, bucking wildly and fucking him hard and fast, his cock hitting so deep inside you it almost felt like he was going to break through the barrier to your womb.

But god, did it ever feel good. So damn good. You could feel pleasure racking your body, making your muscles tense harder and harder, driving you up that precipice towards that glorious climax that you wanted so badly. You could hear him behind you, moaning softly, his breath ragged as he let you use him, reaping pleasure just like you. So maybe you were both using each other. Whatever it was, you liked it and, by his breathing and his shallow thrusts that met yours, he liked it quite well too. It wasn't too long, keeping the steady, hard rhythm you had going before you felt it all of a sudden, your muscles quivering and your breath becoming harder to draw. With a shuddering gasp, you squeezed down on his cock, shuddering and spasming, coming hard.

Mammon was floating inches above the bed, watching you intently as your sleeping form squirmed and tensed, your body going through the same orgasm that you'd just reached in the illusion. Sighing, he pulled himself out of the illusion, letting it drift away. As he turned to go, he stifled another loud, groaning sigh. Fuck this stupid curse. He didn't know why the hell he'd had to put up with it this long but he did know that someday…someday he wouldn't have to rely on illusions just to have you.