Disclaimer:  I don't own 'em.  All the characters you recognize belong to someone who isn't me and are used without permission purely (!) for a little non-profit personal entertainment.

Codes/warnings/ratings:  R/C, R/C/D, rated R

A continuing series of 100 word drabbles following the dreams of everybody's favourite cynic.
 
 
 
 
Dreams
by Melissa
 
 
I dream, sometimes.

Sometimes I stay awake all night, drinking coffee and painting, or staring at the stars.  But sometimes I sleep, and sometimes when I sleep, I dream.

I dreamed last night.

She was here, in my apartment.

In my bed.

We were both naked, kissing, teasing.  She was warm in my arms.  She made me warm.

It was a dream.  Nothing mattered but us.  No phone ringing.  No insecurity.  Just her body and mine.  And after a while, not even that; just her eyes, watching me.

Just a dream.

I need to put the heater on.  So lonely.
 

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Sometimes, when I dream, it’s like we never met before.

We touch, and it’s magic.  Silk on skin, and then just skin.  We’re dancing or making love and there’s nothing and no one in the way.

And then she laughs.  Maybe because I’m tickling her, or because I’ve said something funny or stupid or cynical, or maybe just because she’s happy.

And it’s then that I think I know what heaven must be like.

Her.  Me.  A bed.  Laughter.  Maybe some music.  Nothing else.

Silk on skin, or just skin.  No reason not to be happy.  Nothing left to want.
 

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Light on my face.

Kisses pressed against my eyelids.  My cheek.  Finally my mouth.

My eyes stay closed.  I’m too afraid if I open my eyes I’ll wake up.

Kisses go further down; my neck, my chest, my stomach.  Finally lower, where I want her to be, licking, stroking, sucking, driving me mad.

My hands fist the sheets beneath me; I want to touch, don’t quite dare.  I’m too afraid this is just another fantasy.

I want her so badly.  I always have.  I think I needed her before I was born.

Light on my face.

Just another wet dream.
 

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Surrounded by light, warmth.  Almost too hot, I can’t breathe, who needs to breathe, anyway?

He is inside me and I am inside her and we are moving together, making light and warmth and banishing every demon one by one until we are alone.

My eyes are closed.  My mother always told me never to look straight at the sun, and I never did.  Never.

So my skin is fusing with his and hers and we are one now, moving until completion, the moment they leave me.

And now I am cold and numb but at least I can breathe.
 

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