A/N: This appeared in HTCC in chapter 24.

In the Light of the Moon

It's a warm spring night, and although you're home alone, you've left your bedroom window open to let in the cooling breeze. But that's not all you let in this night.

Stealing in through the window, I find you sprawled on your back, taking up the entire bed, sheets kicked to the floor. You've stripped off your t-shirt and shorts; they're lying on the floor next to the bed. In your restlessness, your black briefs have shifted low – and that only makes me want you more.

I'm able to remove your briefs without waking you and take a moment to admire your beautiful form. I've been watching you for a long time but you never seem to notice. But that's okay, because tonight I'm going to make your body stand up and take notice. You won't be able to ignore me after this.

By the time you wake up, I've already used my restraints to tie your hands to the headboard – not tight enough to restrict your movements, you'll still be able to turn over and allow me access to your ass, but enough so you know who's in command.

"Who are you?" you murmur, pulling at the restraints.

"Ssshhh," is all I say, placing a finger on your lips before placing my mouth on your cock. Your gasp of shock turns into a long moan of pleasure as I take you deeper, running my tongue around the head of your cock like it's an ice cream cone. It brings me pleasure to hear your breathing turning to short pants as the pleasure builds in you. But first…

I pull away and move up your body, straddling your hips with my legs, so I can lean forward and kiss your ear.

"Why … why'd you stop," you pant into the darkness.

"Don't worry, Beloved," I whisper. "It's nowhere near over."

"Who are-"

You can't ask your question as I've claimed your warm, soft lips with my own. I wasn't going to push too far, at first, but when I bite down on your plump lower lip, suckling it – your moan wraps itself around me, and I can't help but have a taste of the man who's driven me past the point of sanity.

I'm sure if I'd chose not to restrain you your hands would be moving in random patterns over my smooth, cool skin. Instead, your only recourse is to thrust your hips up, hoping to find some friction so you can find your release.

But I'm in control tonight.

Pulling away from our kiss, I move up the bed, slowly lowering the zipper of my too tight pants. You can hear the sound moments before I allow my own swollen hardness to feather across your lips. You might not know it, but if you'd hesitated in the slightest, I wouldn't have forced you. Nothing about tonight is about force.

Painting your lips with my essence, your tongue flicks out for a taste and then your head is straining forward to take more of me into your sweet mouth. This time it is my own groan of pleasure that fills your room as I rise up on my knees so I can gently thrust back and forth. When the vibrations of your keens of pleasure reach me, I almost spill, but manage to just barely hold back.

"Beloved," I murmur, pulling back from your lips. "Give me just a moment." It takes just that for me to shed what little clothing I have covering my form and then I am crawling over your body, sighing at the heat you put off. This time when I straddle your body, I do so in a manner that will allow me to give you pleasure and the release that you seek while your mouth attends to my own needs.

What delicious torture we weave.

After we've both spilled our seed and caught our breath, I return to kissing you. It enthralls me, this movement of lips and tongue and teeth. Eventually, though it is no longer enough – for either of us, if the evidence pressing into my stomach is to be believed.

"Turn to your stomach," I command, letting my palm glide down from your waist to the meaty globe of your ass.

You hesitate.

"Has anything we have done so far harmed you? Have I not given you anything but immeasurable pleasure?"

"No. Yes. It's just-"

Your anxiety is evident in the stumble of your words and the tightening of your muscles beneath my body.

"I've never," you breathe.

Those two words bring such joy to my soul. That I might be the first to touch you in such an intimate embrace, to bring you the pleasure of love making for the first time – first of many times if I could have my way in this.

"Beloved … let me," I ask, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

When your response is silence, I allow the disappointment to move over me, through me, before carefully sliding off of your body. So be it.

"Another time, my treasure," I offer softly, my hands quickly undoing the knots of my restraints. My hands and fingers move over your arms and wrists, attempting to lessen the cramping you may feel from being held in such a position for so long.

Before I can slip from your bed, your arms cautiously circle my waist, pulling me closer to your warmth. Your chin rests on my shoulder and I can feel the silky curls of your head tickling my neck. "Will it … will it be painful?" you ask with a tremor.

My fingers comb through your sleep-mussed curls as I consider my answer. "When it isn't done correctly, when it's rushed, or when you're not prepared, yes, it can be painful. But when we take our time, time to prepare ourselves here," I say, tapping your forehead, "and time to prepare our bodies here," I add, tapping your bottom, "then no, it isn't painful. Perhaps, unusual or uncomfortable might be better words to describe the feeling the first few times. After that, though," I stop, lost in my own thoughts.

"After that," you prompt, trying to meet my gaze in the darkness.

"After that it is the most beautiful feeling in our world. Of being united with someone. Of loving someone so much that you trust them with your body and soul." I place the palm of my hand on your cheek and turn your face so our lips can meet once again.

When we part, I place a kiss on your forehead and begin to place my clothing on my body once again.

"Will you come back?" you ask.

"Of course, Beloved. Whenever you ask," I assure you.

"But how will you know? I don't even know your name?" The pout you give is impressive, and leads to yet another bout of kissing and the removal of my shirt yet again.

Shaking my head, I force myself to stand and go to the window. "It is nearing the dawning time, Blaine Anderson. I must go. If you wish my return, for any reason, you have but to leave your window open with a single cut rose on the sill. That will be our sign."

"Our sign," you whisper.

End Note: That's it for now. I've marked this as complete, but if the muse demands, I'll add to it. If you want to be sure to be notified if I do add, hit that follow button. Thank you for reading. I'm not sure where this all came from; I blame the insomnia associated with vacationing nine time zones ahead of my natural time zone.