It was dark, and it was silent, and the air felt somewhat humid. I could feel something pressed against my chest...or rather my chest was pressed against something; something cold and hard.

A wall?

My skin was hot, and whatever I was pressed against felt quite nice in contrast; soothing, almost. I let my cheek rest against the cool surface along with the upper half of my body, somewhat relaxed by the silence and darkness.

Wait...

Where are my clothes?

As I was about to move away I felt a firm hand against the arch of my back, holding me in place. It wasn't rough, and it wasn't forceful, and somehow I was calmed by the touch. It felt strangely familiar. It didn't feel like they wanted to hurt me, or harm me in any way, and despite the fact that they were holding me against something and preventing me from moving, it was relatively gentle. Usually my first thought would have been to struggle to get away from them, but I didn't want to.

I waited to see what would happen next, and I soon felt their palm running across every inch of my back, sometimes lower, and sometimes higher onto my shoulders, leaving no area of my skin untouched. It felt nice, and I didn't even think about the fact that I didn't know who it was; I didn't think about the fact that someone was touching my naked body; I just wanted it to continue. It was like my skin was itching to be touched by this person even though I couldn't see them and didn't know who they were. I could feel eyes on me the entire time, but it was as if I couldn't turn around to face them; as if something else aside from their hand was holding me there, too.

A short while later the hand was replaced by someone's body, and I felt skin even hotter than my own as they pressed against me, forcing me closer to the cold surface. The body was larger than my own, and their chest was definitely flat, so I quickly deduced that this person was male and probably older than me. A certain name immediately came to mind, but how could that be possible? There was warm breath on my neck, and hair that wasn't my own brushed against my cheek as I now felt a hand on my waist, and then on my stomach, moving lower and lower until it reached the area between my thighs, and I didn't have the strength or the will to stop them as slightly calloused fingers started teasing me.

After that everything was a blur.

All I could do was cling helplessly to the wall as another hand joined the first, and I felt fingertips pressing into the inside of one of my thighs as the heat around me seemed to rise along with the pleasure building in the pit of my stomach like a tight knot of intense heat. But it wasn't just there, it was my whole body. Every single nerve in my body felt as if it was on fire, and it felt good, and I didn't want it to stop.

Before my brain could even register what was happening, I heard my own voice, begging, telling them not to stop; to go faster, and I felt fingers gripping my thigh again, more firmly, as suddenly there was a pressure on my neck; someone's lips, and tongue, and teeth. I tried, weakly, to push them away, to tell them not to touch me there, but my efforts failed, and I felt my eyelids slip closed as their lips latched more firmly onto my neck. My voice escaped again before I could stop it, only this time there were no words, only slightly desperate noises; noises I'd never heard myself make before, and in reaction to these noises the person behind me pressed closer and closer until all I could feel was their body against my own.

The sensation of someone else's skin brushing up against my own was sending goose bumps across every inch of my body, and I felt myself pressing back in return. It was pointless, as there was no way we could possibly have been any closer, but all I knew was that no matter how much of them was touching me, it still didn't feel like enough. I wasn't satisfied with just this.

The heat both around me and inside me was becoming unbearable, and I knew that my body was desperately craving release, but no matter how fast the hand moved, or how firmly they pressed, it was like some unknown force was preventing me from doing so.

However, that thought was pushed well aside as I suddenly felt hips against my own, and a hand pressing down between my shoulder blades, keeping my chest to the wall. I knew what was happening, but I wasn't sure I wanted it. That being said, I still couldn't move, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

"Relax," whispered a voice close to my ear, and in that moment I realised.

Vashyron.

My eyes snapped open to see my bedroom ceiling, and I quickly scanned the room. Yep, everything was normal; everything was just where it always was; which could mean only one thing. I kicked the bed sheets back hastily as I sat up, glancing down at my body to see the damage. It was just as I had feared.

In fact, it was even worse.

I practically leapt off the bed and across the room to my dresser, pulling on some clean underwear and nearly falling over in the process, before throwing the offending article of clothing far across the room, pacing for a while by the window and wondering what to do about this particular situation.

It's not like I had never had...a...you know...one of those dreams before. I mean, I'm a guy, so this wasn't exactly new territory, but to have one of those dreams about a certain other guy who I live with and who is obviously not into guys is the worst thing I could imagine happening.

It's not like he'll know, right?

Unless he does the laundry and sees my underwear and the incriminating evidence...which, he will because he always does the laundry.

Oh geez.

I now realised that my only option was to offer to do the laundry myself, without acting suspicious, of course, and he would be none the wiser. I felt myself relax again somewhat, and went to sit back down on the bed, where I stayed, awake, until I saw light shining through my bedroom window. I had probably been sitting there for a few hours, but I didn't care. There was no way I was going back to sleep after that dream.

However, it was obviously still early in the morning, and Vashyron probably wouldn't be awake yet, so I decided to take this as my chance. This way, I could do some laundry before he even woke up and he wouldn't be suspicious. So I left my bedroom, grabbing the underwear and some other random articles of clothing along the way, and headed downstairs into the kitchen. I noticed that Vashyron's bedroom door was closed, which meant he was probably still in there sleeping.

After hastily throwing everything I could find into the washing machine, including some random items that belonged to Vashyron, I poured in some detergent and pressed the button that said 'start'.

That should do it, right?

In all honesty, I had never used a washing machine in my entire life, and I didn't pay attention when Vashyron was doing it, so this was all new to me.

"You have to actually tell it what you want it to do before you press 'start'." Vashyron said suddenly from the kitchen doorway behind me, and I turned around to see him watching me, looking rather amused.

"...Oh, right."

I briefly glanced over the buttons on the front of the machine, before moving aside as Vashyron came over and pressed some of them, the machine starting to make its usual noises.

"Why are you doing laundry at six in the morning?" he asked, taking a mug out of one of the cupboards and tipping some coffee grains into it, setting the kettle on the hob and switching it on.

"Uh...I...couldn't sleep." I lied, watching as he turned to face me, and trying not to look at his bare chest, or to think about the dream.

Oh gods, the dream.

He chuckled, turning to the fridge to take out some milk, and I couldn't tell whether he bought it or whether he was just humouring me.

"Well that makes two of us."

"...You couldn't sleep either?"

"Not really," he sighed as he took the kettle from the hob, pouring some into the mug and stirring it lazily with a teaspoon, "I'm a light sleeper, so once I wake up there's no going back."

He finished making his coffee, returning the milk to the fridge and then leaning against the counter, his gaze meeting my own as he took a short sip.

"What about you?"

I felt my heart freeze in my chest for a second as his gaze was fixed upon mine. There was something different about the way he was looking at me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Did he know?

"Zephyr?" he said questioningly after another few seconds, chuckling and waving at me, "Is anyone home?"

Must just be my imagination.

"Uh...I just...couldn't sleep. Had a bad dream," I mumbled, secretly pleased to have come up with such a good excuse so quickly, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

I motioned out of the kitchen, quickly making my way to the bathroom before he could say anything else to take a very cold, very quick shower.

Considering the way this day had started, I was reluctant to see what the rest of it had to offer me. I still hadn't spoken to Vashyron about the kiss, and as much as I would've liked to ignore it, I knew there was no way I could. If we pretended it didn't happen it was likely that things would become very awkward between us, and I really didn't want that. Vashyron was my best friend; my only friend, and if I couldn't talk to him then I couldn't talk to anyone.

After hastily getting re-dressed and towel-drying my hair into its usual mess, I left the safety of the bathroom to find him sitting on the couch.

Here goes nothing.