Chapter 3
Victor groaned in his sleep. He'd managed to drop off not long after joining Layla in bed and, as usual, the nightmares hadn't followed him to her room.
His was, at that moment, in that surreal type of sleep that seemed to blend both the conscious and subconscious mind. He was faintly aware of a weight, nothing serious, but a certain amount of weight that seemed to press against his hips as it seemed to straddle him. It was warm and familiar and smelled amazing. But in his dream like mind, Creed's familiarities with the action made his blood begin to boil and rush to his groin. The heat on his hips seemed to spread a little, moving over his bare abs and chest, pulling slightly at the golden hair. The sting made him groan unconsciously again, his hips bucking to press further against the warmth. The heat intensified with the movement and pushed back against his growing arousal.
It had been a long time since he'd had a dream like this one, and he was beginning to like it.
The weight wiggled on his hips, making Victor grin sleepily. He instinctively bucked again, pressing harder against the heat, growling with the sensation that radiated from whatever was on top of him. The scent of arousal thickened the air in Victor's dream and he breathed it in deep.
God, how long had it been since he got laid last, seen how he was beginning to get wet dreams?
The weight let out a gasp and rolled back against him, spurring him on unconsciously. His hands blindly reached out, gripping what felt like hips and Victor snarled as they rocked over his erection. Jesus, how he hoped not to wake up anytime soon.
The heat of a pair of hands was back on his torso, tracing the outlines of his muscles and teasing his skin. Whoever he was dreaming up knew what they were doing. Or so he thought.
He began to pant as the hands were followed by a tongue, that moved swiftly over his abs and over his chest, hesitating a moment over his nipple before flicking it lightly. The feather like touch was just enough to make Victor gasp in his sleep, the temperature in the room sky rocketing and the grip on the mystery person's hips tightening.
"Victor..." a soft voice murmured in his incoherent mind sending shocks through his groin and legs. He grunted in response, throwing his head back in need. Lips touched his heaving chest once again before pulling away and moving up to his throat.
Normally, Victor would have automatically become defensive, like any animal, protecting his throat from attack, but asleep, and under the influence of heavy arousal, he openly offered it to the hungry mouth. And hungry it was. It traced up over his throat, tasting the skin all the way to his jaw. After a tentative lick or two, the tongue followed his jaw line, before flicking over Victor's bottom lip playfully.
Sabretooth willingly opened his mouth, allowing the tongue to enter and start a deep kiss as their mouths met.
His partner groaned, Victor's mouth catching the sound and swallowing it. His hands strayed from the hips, running upward, over a cloth covered stomach and sides, the material riding up with the movement.
This dream was defiantly becoming his favourite, only being topped by dreams of murder and bloodshed. That was until a straying hand of his dream partner began to push at the fabric of his sweats, and like most great dreams, the action caused Victor to start awake, only to find himself in a more than awkward situation.
It took a moment or too to become fully awake, but once he was, he soon realised, with horror, that his dream wasn't a dream at all.
Every muscle tensed at the realisation that his lips were locked with Layla's. The sudden lack of interest in kissing caught the girl's attention, and she pulled back a little to look at Victor.
"Good morning." She cooed as she gently stroked his jaw, seemingly undeterred by the look of utter horror in his eyes. She looked flustered, her cheeks a bright pink and her ever breath laboured.
"What the Fu-..." He snarled and bolted upright, almost throwing Layla from the bed in the process. She bounced off the covers but managed to steady herself.
"Burns told me to come and wake you." She murmured, sudden fear curdling her stomach as she gazed upon his thunderous expression.
"Well ya fuckin' did that alright!" he bellowed, jumping from the bed as fast as possible. The tenting in his sweatpants catching her eye as he moved to the door and quickly left.
Tears began to sting her eyes, but the memory of his sweatpants bulging as he left replayed in her mind and the need to cry faded, being replaced by a feeling of triumph and arousal. Laughter suddenly tore free from her chest and Layla collapsed back on her bed in fits of giggles as her mind mulled over her discovery. The discovery of the power she held over Victor Creed.