Thread: Man Of My Dreams (SketchyEquine x Traveler)

She was so slim that he thought she might have been some kind of spirit, some shade of the Slenderman... Slender woman ... come to punish him finally for what he had done. He expected her fingers to grow knives so she could gut him, leave his entrails on the hot sand, or rake across his face so that he could finally feel what he had done to that girl. He expected her to hurt him, like he deserved to be hurt, and so when she reached out and grabbed hold of his cheeks he flinched. But then she did the most unexpected thing, and his blue eyes widened in surprise. Her lips were full and hungry, eagerly sliding over his as her tongue seemed to speak to him in a way that echoed the lost, lonely song he'd been immersed in for the last two years. When she pulled away she took with her the coolness that her touch had given. He had been hot and parched, and she was like a soothing secret pool at the base of a waterfall. He could almost smell the moss and the feel the spray of the mist. Oh Fuck... She muttered before taking a step back. Im so sorry... I.... I thought you were going to disappear in the blink of an eye. She stammered and buried her face in her hands. He moved closer to her as she moved away. Her kiss had woken in him a desire that had been hidden for the last twenty four months. His need for it was stronger than any craving he'd had stronger than his desire for a drink, or a joint, or the escape of any drug. He'd been forced to be clean when he was in jail, and now that he was out he had struggled to resist the call of the addict's siren, but this girl's kiss was his weakness. You aren't some kind of grim reaper or something, are you? She asked innocently. No, but this is a dream, and I can do whatever I want in dreams. He reached forward to grab her by the hand. I want to kiss you again. I want to fuck you. I want to bury myself so deep in you that I can't hear her screams anymore. His eyes darkened into midnight, and his grip tightened. I need you to make the screams go away. I need you to save me. His eyes grew moist, but he struggled to fight the remorse that always overcame him. I can't, I can't-- The alarm jarred his world and sent shards of crystallized sand into his mind, severing the grip he had on the slim girl. Matthew drew in a sharp breath and his eyes widened in shock. The real world jerked him out of his dream. He felt the coarse texture of his sheets below his fingers, but he remembered the heat of her skin against his. His body had hardened in arousal and now ached uncomfortably. He groaned, then drew shaking fingers through his dark hair. He hadn't felt that addictive call in almost a year, but somehow the girl in his dream had made the cravings for 'it' return. 'It' was always something different. It could have been a drink, a hit, or the rush of adrenaline that came with street racing. He was easily addicted. Matthew rolled over and looked at his phone, then swiped off the alarm. In two hours he had an appointment to see his parole officer, then he had to report in to work or risk being sent back to jail... but all he wanted was to go back to sleep and to touch her again. He craved her, and like an addict looking for his next fix, he began to calculate how quickly he might be able to get back to sleep in the off-chance that his nightmare might bring him back to the part where he dreamed about the girl with heat in her fingertips.