Everything was floating, almost imperceptibly, just millimeters away from where they should be, but Elizabeth knew. She could feel it, even if her eyes couldn't quite focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. Her eyelids weren't quite working but it was fine. She didn't need to see. She knew it to be true. Everything was floating, delicately, softly, and she was floating, too.
The air was thrumming with pulses, gentle and smooth, brushing through her hair so carefully and she was suspended, elevated.
Happy.
She knew where she was. It was familiar, despite its unfamiliarity.
Her room had come to find her, to claim her and contain her, to stop her from floating up, up and away into the dark night sky.
Where had she been before?
She didn't remember.
Did she?
There had been a cave...maybe. Not her cave but then, was it her cave? Did she have a cave?
She wasn't sure.
Somebody had a cave but maybe she hadn't been there.
She had been in the second cave.
It had smelled like plastic...maybe.
She couldn't remember.
She'd been in a dark place but she had been with friends, she thought..she knew that she had been happy. That much was clear. She'd been happy before she'd floated up and away...or had she floated down and out?
Again, she couldn't be sure.
All she knew was that her room had sought her out, hunted her down and trapped her.
She knew that much was true because she had been flying. She had been flying freely, zooming through the sky, free to go wherever the night guided her...only to be trapped by the four walls of her room.
It had snared her.
It was alive, her room. It was a living, breathing, knowing, seeing creature and it wanted to keep her locked within its depths.
She knew that was true, too, because every hair on her head tingled delightfully with its pulsing breath and she could feel its intentions as clear as day.
It was a dragon. A sleeping dragon and she was its victim.
The space was glowing dimly, the moonlight streaming through the window was glittering and sparkling. Whenever her eyelids offered her a glimpse of the twinkling abyss, she was thrilled.
It wasn't terrible, being caught.
It was kind of nice.
Odd, strange, incorrect...but nice.
Maybe.
She didn't know.
Everything was changing.
Nothing was as it should be.
Even the bed - she knew it to be her bed, she did, on some level, though it felt strange to her - was different. It was soft, so pliable. It was like a toasted marshmallow, threatening, wanting, waiting to encompass her body.
Thankfully, she was floating along with everything else, for it couldn't quite suck her down into its warm depths.
She wasn't the victim.
She was the victor.
The room had trapped her but the mattress would never be able to.
She would beat it all.
She knew she would.
She would slay the dragon, she would emerge the winner.
She knew this for a fact because she felt wired, attuned to everything. It felt like her body was connected to the things around her. There was nothing she couldn't do.
Unless, of course, the dragon had won.
Had the dragon won?
She was already hot, terribly hot. Hot and sweaty. She knew that the droplets of sweat lacing her body were dripping upwards, being pulled high to the ceiling, suspended in the air.
Is that why she felt the way she did?
Had the dragon won?
"Did I die?"
A chuckle, so deep, so masculine, so invincible met her ears and Elizabeth felt her eyes close in delight as the almost musical note vibrated in her ear, down into her mind.
She knew it, she knew that voice, that laugh.
It was Dwayne.
He was here, he was with her in the dripping, floating, dancing world.
He was with her, in the stomach of the dragon.
She spread out her hands, still feeling the vibrations that he had sent towards her. They were still pulsing steadily up through her fingers and down into her arm.
"Laugh again" she whispered, feeling each and every one of her words pass over her tongue.
They felt heavy and a little spiky but they tickled, burning wonderfully.
"You like it?"
She made a noise of agreement as his words danced around her, grazing her skin, penetrating down into her bones.
Like it? She loved it.
His laugh, his words, his voice...they were like balm.
Soothing, comforting.
Why was he with her in the dragon's stomach? Had he always been with her? She wasn't sure but at the same time, she was. She knew he'd been with her because she knew he would never leave her.
It was nice.
He was her constant.
She reached out, trying to find him, her fingers brushing the blankets that covered the bed. She could feel the fabric come to life, languidly and lazily trying to cling to her, to wrap around her wrists and pull her down into the waiting, toasty, soft depths of the mattress below.
It was tempting...but she resisted it.
Dwayne was far more tempting.
She didn't want to fall down, to slink into that deceptively welcoming bed.
She wanted Dwayne. She wanted him.
As her whole body pulsed, she could feel a twinkling, delicate buzz as her fingers met the skin of his arm. With limbs that felt too heavy as well as far too light, she tried to turn to him.
He was beside her. He was next to her.
She wasn't alone. She was with him.
Together in her dreamworld, together in the dragon's lair.
The dragon didn't stand a chance now.
She wanted to laugh.
Maybe she did, she couldn't hear it but she could feel it bubbling in her throat.
The mattress begged her not to leave, begged her to stay and allow it to immerse her. She could feel the tendrils of blanket sneaking their way up her ankles, slinking away from her wrists but she couldn't, she wouldn't follow them, though she could feel how much they wanted her to.
She wanted Dwayne.
He was solid. Immovable. Hard and real and hers and she wanted him, she needed him.
In her world of dreams and movement, he was her anchor.
He wasn't wearing a shirt and the skin under her fingertips was cold, delightfully cold against the searing heat of the room, the scorching heat of her body.
She wanted more.
She wanted more but the blanket had her ankles, she couldn't move, she coudn't-
"You're coming up?"
-yes, she could. She had him, she could do whatever she wanted to do.
She wouldn't be bested by the dragon's magic, by her sly bed or the omniscient room.
Her neck rotated as she tried to chase his words, tried to catch them on her eyelashes but the the deep timbre of his voice was moving faster than she could and then, suddenly, beautifully, his hands were on her body.
Was he touching her thigh? Her hip? Her back? She didn't know. His words were clear but nothing else was, not really. She felt boneless and his hands felt like they were everywhere, all over her, spreading their welcome coldness over her heated body.
It felt amazing, like she could feel his touch in every fiber of her being.
She felt a whimper of joy leave her throat, felt as her body trembled but she couldn't speak. Her head was full, heavy and as her forehead rested against his chest, she trembled again.
She was on him, pressed against him. Her body against his, flush and perfect and grounded.
For a fleeting second, she was worried she was going to pass through him but he was real, he was solid. He wasn't floating, he wasn't soft.
He was hard and she clung to him, finding his reality far, far better than the fluid world she was in.
She had Dwayne. The dragon had been defeated.
"Elizabeth?"
His words danced through her hair and her eyelashes brushed against his chest. She could feel the question in his voice, she could feel his question mark roll up over her neck and burrow behind her ear.
She couldn't be sure where she was, not anymore. It felt like the dragon had slunk away, like the room was watching but weak. She didn't know if they were two entities or one in the same but it didn't matter. She couldn't tell if everything was floating, she couldn't tell if the room was still vibrating, pulsating.
She didn't know what world she was sliding into but still...it didn't matter.
She could feel him.
She could feel Dwayne, she could smell him and touch him.
She knew what she wanted.
She wanted to taste him, too.
She could feel the hardness of his body and she wanted it, more than she could express. As she kissed the firm skin of his chest, moving down to his solid abs, feeling each and every muscle in perfect clarity, she could feel her lips tingling, dancing.
She moaned softly, moving downwards, chasing the feeling.
As she kissed him, she could feel herself taking control of her body once more, she could feel the blankets slide away from her ankles, retreating down towards the waiting mattress.
She could feel her limbs again, too.
Dwayne was giving her power.
His hands trailed up her body, sending jolts of pure pleasure in their wake and she thought she would drown in him. Really, truly drown in him. She could feel how her skin rippled and danced under his touch, reacting like a lake disturbed by a pebble.
"Elizabeth.." The soft growl of her name floated around her, thrummed in the air and she moaned again. She could feel it, she could feel his words grazing over her skin.
Maybe she was surrounded by floating objects, by blankets that wanted to pull her down into the mattress but Dwayne was immovable, indomitable.
He was the new world she was hurtling towards, dragons forgotten.
She continued her path downwards, knowing exactly, despite her cloudy mind, what she was looking for, what she wanted.
"You're high, baby-" he spoke, that deep, addictive timber throbbing, pulsating through the beautiful haze.
She could feel something else throbbing, too.
"-Elizabeth, hey...baby...?"
His hands rested gently on her head, softly, hesitantly, stopping her path downwards.
It felt different and not in a good way. She liked his firm touch, the way his deft fingers sent waves of tingly delight over her. Soft didn't suit him.
And then there was his voice. Was it concern? Was there concern, was there a hint of worry she could hear? She didn't know, she wasn't sure but she didn't like it...it sounded uncomfortably heavy, like the words were weighted and rusty.
She didn't have time for them. She didn't like them way she liked his other words.
She ran her tongue over her lips, dampening them lightly, loving the way they tingled delicately.
She breathed deeply, allowing her fingers to dance across the defined bones of his hips, easily loosing herself in him again.
The soft touch of his hand hardened a little and, elated, she shuddered as the familiar and wonderful pressure of his fingertips washed over her again.
She closed her eyes and sighed in relief as she placed a delicate, almost reverent kiss against his hardness.
She felt him twitch and she moaned as her lips tingled again in response.
She had what she wanted and she'd never been more sure of anything, despite how unsure of everything she was.
"Shhhhh" she whispered, commanded, feeling the wetness at her core and the only part of his body that was hot.
She felt how he was trembling lightly, she could feel the twitching of his jaw and somehow, she didn't know how, she could feel more of those rusty but reluctant words ready to fall from his mouth.
"Shhh..." she whispered again, feeling his contradiction.
He was soft but hard, gentle but strong.
She was his.
"You're mine..." she whispered.
While his words had inspired her, had elevated her, had touched her she found that hers had the same magic for suddenly, wonderfully, thankfully she felt his reluctance disappear.
His fingers, deft and strong, wove themselves into her hair, moving against her scalp and she moaned again, loudly and without control.
His touch was electric, it was sparking and deep and penetrating and she wanted more.
She wanted him, she wanted all of him.
As her lips brushed his hardness again, he moaned, too-
"-nahaha, come on, girl! You've got to try whisky!"
Elizabeth groaned, head exploding as Paul's words boomed loudly, interrupting her dream.
No...no, it wasn't a dream.
She had been remembering.
She groaned again, softly this time, in annoyance.
What time was it? How late had she slept and why, why in the world had she woken up?
She didn't want to wake up, she wanted to remember, to relive.
She squeezed her eyes gently, fighting to fall back into her memory.
It was so erotic, so intense.
She had been in a fluid world of confusion but Dwayne, her love and her mate had been there with her.
He'd held her, her breasts had been pressed against his thighs. She could remember. She could. It was right there and she was going to fight to relive it. His hands had trailed softly up over her back, her neck. It had been amazing and then, then his hand had wrapped itself deep into her hair and she'd allowed him to guide her, to teach her and lead her as she'd taken him into her mouth.
It had been perfect, it had been indescribable and she hated that she'd woken up, that she'd interrupted, broken the memory.
Why had she woken up?
She took a shuddering breath and gently moved her hand over her nipple, oddly but comfortably naked under her blanket.
She wanted to remember. She had been with Dwayne, she had been with him. She had touched him and tasted him and-
"-wow, slow down baby girl! That's your sixth shot...but, I mean, it is a solid, even number and we love those, right? Ah fuck it, we going for seve-"
Her stomach rolled and her head began to thud mercilessly as wakefulness, horrible, unwelcome wakefulness really began to pull at her. Suddenly her whole body hurt, thrummed with pain and she could feel sweat lining her neck and temples and God it wasn't fair.
She could relive her time with Dwayne, she could remember their slow, languid and intense movements but she could also remember why everything had been so intangible, and it had been intangible.
Shit.
She had been utterly out of her mind.
She could remember what she had taken.
What she had ingested.
What she had drunk.
"Oh, God.." Elizabeth whimpered, stomach jerking as the hangover from hell began to stake its claim on her.
"-take another shot, cutie pie, let's have another teeny, tiny little tab and then we'll go see the horror house-"
Elizabeth stumbled out of bed, falling to the floor and hitting her knees hard. Her body jerked, her throat burned and, as her fingers grasped the cool metal trashcan that waited, unused and clean by her bed, she vomited violently into it, memories of alcohol and drugs replacing everything else.
As her abs cramped painfully, horribly sore for reasons she just couldn't fathom, Elizabeth felt the muscles in her calves tighten, too. She'd never felt more wretched and, as another spluttering bout of hot, thick, acidic vomit burned its way up, she groaned.
Channeling the wild boys she had come to embrace, she coughed and whimpered, "...mother fucker..."
She knew she was in for a long and rough day.