Fantasy
She is beautiful. She is beautiful and human, and as she reaches out to tug him by the sleeve and goad him into sitting next to her on the bed, Fakir wonders how she'd ever want to direct such a sweet look in her eyes towards someone like him. Or say his name so adoringly, or reach out and gently place a petite hand over his heart. She must have felt it beating erratically as she shifts closer to press her soft lips to his skin, and he wants to melt right then and there. He manages to breathe the first syllable of her name before those lips find his next, and he feels like he really will melt.
He reaches to touch her in return, hesitating just over her shoulder, before gently brushing his fingers over the thin white strap of her dress and daringly slipping it down. Was this really allowed?
Ahiru pulls back after a few moments and the image of her, loose red hair framing her flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes, makes him want to lean back in and continue what they were doing. But she holds a finger to his lips and smiles, the expression leaving him a little bit transfixed with the pink color. For the moment he stills and waits.
Shifting closer, chest to chest, cheek to cheek, she breathes against his ear and speaks.
"QUACK!"
Fakir wakes with a start and nearly jolts right off the bed, hair frazzled and shirt dampened with just a bit of sweat here and there. Confused and not quite back in the real world yet, his eyes dart around the room in search of the girl with red hair – only for them to drop to his lap to find a flailing yellow duck instead.
Reality bites him. He deflates, and runs a hand through his hair before patting the top of her head. "What moron, what is it…" he mumbles, swallowing down any hint of disappointment in his voice. He continues petting her gently as he waits for her to calm down and convey what has her distressed so early in the morning.
If anything, he thinks dryly to himself, I'm the one who's the moron.