Night Visions
By Cory!! Strode

The first thing he remembers feeling was a kiss on his neck. That's what woke him up, but he wasn't sure that it was real or in a dream. He stirred slightly, feeling a hand on his hip and the mouth moving on his neck, wondering if it was real or just a dream. He couldn't tell. It has the slow, languid quality of a dream, but details that he didn't concentrate on were surrounding him. He could feel her long hair on his bare chest, smell it as it moved closer to him, and how it receded when she would kiss further down his neck. There was the feel of her long nails on his chest, clutching when she would bite down softly on his neck, causing a quick intake of air and his eyes to close in pleasure.

She lifted her head a bit to move and he was able to open his eyes. She was wearing nothing but a black t-shirt, and her hair was loose, free, and in the dark he could only make out highlights of color. It was dark in the room, so dark he could only make out shapes and forms. No moon or stars outside, so it was impossible for him to see her eyes, which he always sought out when they were in bed together. Before he could look at the clock, she moved up and kissed him full on the lips, slightly parting her mouth and teasing him with a brush of her tongue upon his. It felt like a ripe strawberry, but was warm, and darted quickly, leaving him wanting more. She pulled up and brushed her hair to one side of her head. "You're awake," she said in a soft murmur, "I wanted you to sleep a lot longer."

He was still half asleep, his mind fighting making connections and not seeing this as a half lucid dream, "Why would you want me asleep?"

"I like you when you sleep. And I wanted you to tell me what you had dreamed. I like when you tell me about dreams I'm in," she said, stopping to kiss the side of his face and moving her hand along with side of his hip.

He was wearing his black, cotton sleepwear that she had always teased him about. He said it made him feel like Hugh Hefner, except he disliked the feel of silk. She would laugh and say it made him look like someone's dad. That always made him smile. Everything she did made him smile now that they had become lovers. For an instant, he became a bit sad, knowing that this moment wouldn't last long, and soon he would have to go back to sleep to get up and work. Back in the real world. Unless this was the dream, which he highly doubted. It seemed too real. He voice was too real, he could feel her breathing against him, he could tell the imperfections in her nails as she ran them over his shirt, snagging just the tiniest bit as the moves.

And the smell. The smell of being around her. That was too real. The shampoo she got at the herbal store, the hint of perfume that he could only barely sense, and the indescribable scent of just waking up that made her seem like a vision made real. God, how that smell lingered in his memory no matter what.

He moved his head up and kissed her, softly at first, then pulling her down toward him. He ran his fingers into her hair, careful not to pull very hard. He sucked on her lower lip, teasing with his teeth. Her put his free hand on the small of her back and felt as she arched, letting him know that despite her trying to pull away a slight bit, she wanted more. He kissed her jaw line, moving to her neck, and after kisses so soft it was almost is if a butterfly had brushed its wings against her skin there, he bit her neck hard, not making marks, but in the way she liked. She clutched at him, and in her grabbing at him he was fully aroused. It always aroused him to give her pleasure. She pulled back, eyes half open and said, "I was doing this for you. I wanted you to have the pleasure this time."

"I am," he said softly.

He rolled her over onto her back and looked down at her. In the dim light he could make out her eyes, just enough to remember how much he loved them. How he could have looked at the for hours the first time they had spent time together, and how he would never be able to tire of them. She was beautiful in so many ways, but to him, it always came back to the eyes. He even remembered the first time they had been intimate, afterward he keep looking at her eyes, and she would ask him, "What? What's wrong?"

Nothing was wrong. Everything was right. Finally, everything was right.

He kissed her again, and moved his hand to her hip as well. She was running her hands along his back, turning her head to the side so that he could continue to kiss the soft skin there. He alternated kisses with biting, moving down to the hollow of her neck and then back to her ear, which he would whisper things in every time he came near it. "I want you." "I need you." "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She smiled and whispered "flatterer" in his ear between sharp intakes for breath.

Her breathing was faster now, and when he kisses her neck he could feel his pulse on his lips, making him more excited. He stopped kissing and looked down to see that the t-shirt had moved up, showing her stomach. His hand moved over the shirt to her breast. She was not wearing a bra under the shirt, and he cupped her breast lightly. In his mind's eye he remembered how it looked, how it felt to run his mouth over it. To take her nipple into his mouth and feel it get hard against his tongue. He thought for a moment about that, and smiled. She never understood his fascination with her breasts, no woman ever did. He didn't either, really, but the thing about hers were that they were a part of her. It didn't matter how they were shaped, the size or anything else. She was the one he wanted, and no matter how she looked at any given moment.

He moved the shirt of softly, and moved down to kiss her stomach. The skin was soft under his lips and he moved his hands to the sides of her torso, sliding the shirt upward and finally off with a little help from her.

He kept moving upward, side to side, kissing her skin, moving his hands up and down her sides, gripping hard when he would get to her hips before moving up again.

He stopped when he got to her breasts and pulled himself above her. He looked at her face, shrouded in shadow, and thought how lucky he was. Not just to be able to make love to this woman, but that he knew her at all. The emotions he felt reminded him he was awake, and that he had been given a gift by fate, or time or whatever power there was. He lowered his mouth to her breast and kissed. Softly at first, tongue moving around the areola with slow precision. The skin on the breast tasted no different than that of her neck, or his stomach or the flesh over her ribs, but to him it was incredible. He kissed the underside of the breast, and moved his hand over the one he was not kissing. He moved to the nipple and took it into his mouth. It was warm, clanked against his teeth and he tugged on it slightly, knowing she liked it, but scared to hurt her in any way.

After a short time, she pulled him up by his hair, and he had to admit he was a bit dizzy. The feel of the softness on his mouth, the erotic power of being able to caress the breast with his mouth was overwhelming. She pulled him to her face and kissed him, hard, her hand moving down to his shirt, tugging at it. He sat up and pulled it off, leaving nothing but the pajama bottoms on. She pulled at them as well, but he grabbed her hand.

He pulled it to his face and kissed her wrist. Softly at first, but then he began to suck on it, clutching it with both hands. He could hear her gasp and knew that it was time.

He looked at her lying there on the bed, a bit dizzy with passion like himself. He looked at the bedposts and how she had been the one to initiate things. Then he smiled briefly and told her to close her eyes. She did so with little protest, and he opened the drawer in his bedframe. Inside were two silk scarves she had given him when she got tired of him complaining bitterly about the cold. He'd never worn them, preferring his own long woolen scarf, but told her he was very happy with the gift and hoped he would be able to use them. And now he would.

He grabbed one wrist and before she could pull away wrapped it in the silk. He kissed her wrist again, taking his time and tying her to the bedpost as he kissed her. When he was done she tried to pull away slightly, but the knot held. He did the same to the other wrist, stopping when he was done to kiss her on the mouth again, moving his hand between her legs in time with his tongue.

"Why?" she said, not looking scared, but a bit confused in the darkness.

"You are doing this for me. I know that. But making you come does more for me than anything else you could do. Your pleasure is my excitement. Besides, I miss how you taste, and I don't want you stopping me before I get my fill."

He could see her smile in the darkness and before she could say anything else, he kissed her, taking her tongue into his mouth and sucking on it slightly. As he kissed her, he parted her legs slightly and ran his hand over her underwear. She moved her hips to push against his hand, and he could feel himself grow a bit lightheaded. He did not want to end the kiss. He stopped sucking on her tongue but continued to feel her lips pressed against him.

She smiled and he kissed her again. With the back of one hand he traced the side of her face, committing it to memory again, praying to whatever power there was in the universe that he would never be without that face.

He kissed her again, a different kiss. One of passion that comes from love. Not one of desire, but one of longing. Longing. His mind couldn't let go of the word and the sweetness it implied. It wasn't even a word people used much anymore, even though the feeling was still very present. So many feelings we aren't allowed to put into words anymore, he thought.

He pulled back again and kissed her eyelids softly. Words came to mind, but not ones he knew how to express. He simply kissed her again and then took one last look at there in the starlight, waiting, face full of anticipation and desire.

He then gave one of his half smiles and said, "I don't think it's all that good an idea to be wrapped up in emotion while you are there and can't get away."

"Why?" she said quietly, her voice filled with breath and emotion.

He moved in and bit her neck softly, then building with force, his teeth slightly pulling at her skin until he felt her begin to shift her hips and strain a bit against her bonds. He moved upwards to her ear and tugged on her earlobe. With a hot, breathy voice he said, "and if you want to be set free, I need to hear you. I won't stop unless you beg me to, and I might not stop even then."

She moaned slightly and her began to kiss down her torso. He stopped at her breasts again, running his tongue quickly around her nipples and biting them softly until her back would arch. He kissed the space between her breasts and murmured under his breath how wonderful her skin tasted. She might have heard him. Or might have not. He couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

He kissed her stomach, his hand moving up and down the inside of her thighs, slowly, almost stopping when getting to where her legs met her torso. She had parted her legs slightly, and as he moved downward with his mouth, his hand moved upward and closer each time.

He stopped over her, his face over her upper thigh. With one hand he opened her legs fully and kissed her inner thigh, gripping it hard with his hand as he did. He made sure not to neglect the other side and felt her push herself against him. He moved to the center and kissed the very top of her panties. They were soft cotton, bikini style and he kissed down the front of them. He stopped when she moaned with pleasure and raised his face the slightest bit to get a good view of her expression. His hands gripped her hips as he paused, then he ran his mouth over them again, his mouth moving in time with the movement of her hips.

She moaned his name and he raised his head slightly. "That's not nearly good enough," he said, smiling. To punctuate his point he ran his hand under the band and brushed against her lips, feeling how soft and wet they were.

Part of him wanted to tease her longer. He loved that, making her beg him as much as she made him beg her. It made it all the more satisfying when they finally did make love. But not tonight. He'd teased her enough.

He took one hand and pulled at the strap of her panties, kissing were they had rested on her hip. He slip them off slowly, moving down her legs with them. Her tossed them onto the floor, next to the black t-shirt with lay there in the darkness. Now she was laying before him. Nude. Wanting him. Waiting. Anticipating.

"I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you," he said.

"Take me" she said, her breath coming in short gasps.

He kissed her ankles and began moving up slowly. Her legs were heavenly, shaped like those of the most beautiful statues in galleries. He breasts moved slightly as he kept moving upward and she would shirt on the bed, allowing him easier access to where he would kiss next. When he got to her upper thigh, he was dizzy with anticipation himself, and he slowly spread her legs a bit further apart.

He looked at her lying there, not as one would look at a pornographic picture in the magazines he had been repulsed by when he had just turned 18, but as a unbearable object of desire. He didn't think of her as breasts, legs and a vagina, but as the woman he had talked to for hours on end, shared private jokes with and who knew him better than anyone ever could and still wanted him in her life.

He reached out with his tongue, slightly touching her and feeling her push against him. She moaned again, and he could smell that she wanted him. It was a smell that drove him mad with desire, and it took all of his willpower not to finish right there. But he didn't.

Instead he kissed her lips, softly at first, then with more pressure. Then parting them with his tongue and tasting her. It was sweet, almost like honey, but more earthy, muskier. The taste and smell made him grow a bit dizzy with his own desire. He could feel himself growing harder than he had been in recent memory. He moved his tongue up and down, slowly, searching for the spot where she would react the most.

And when he found it, he circled it with his tongue three times before moving downward and moving his tongue inside her. He thrust inward, loving how she was gripping at his hands and trying to weave her hand into his hair. His hands were on her hips, holding her so that he could get closer, kiss deeper.

He lost all thought. His mouth moved of its own will, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting spinning twirling probing loving lovinglovingloving...her hips buckled against him and with a rush of passion she came, pushing against him. He held her hips, making sure his mouth stayed on the spot she needed his mouth to be at. It lasted forever. It lasted an instant. It lasted and then ended. He drew his head back, and said, "I didn't hear you. Maybe you didn't say anything or maybe your legs were clutching too hard, but I didn't hear you. That means I'm not done yet."

Before she could say or do anything, he was licking and kissing again, this time only gripping with one hand as he licked two of his fingers and entered her with them. He had to concentrate this time. This wasn't allowing the passion to take over, but concentrating on the rhythm and motion, feeling how she moved and matching it. She started to lose control again, much faster than the first time, and started to push very violently against him. He removed his hand and then moved his moth to the very spot she wanted him to kiss. He sucked on it slightly, and then swirled his tongue around it over and over andoverandoverandover until she came again, this time moaning and crying out in pleasure...but this time her didn't stop when she did but picked up his pace. He heard her moan his name and then become unable to speak.

Bits of words were said by her as he brought her to orgasm again. Need. Want. Inside. Love. God. And then his name over and over and over until she came again and lay on the bed, spent and barely able to move.

He kissed her, the taste of her mouth mingling with the taste of her juices and he pulled up, looking into her eyes again, barely discernible in the darkness.

It was then that he moved slightly and then entered her. She was wet, soft and shuddered a bit as he did so. He was so worked up by her passion and the sounds of her coming that he didn't need much to come himself. She strained against her bonds, and he loosened them enough for her to work free and embrace him. He slid in and out of her softly, never wanting it to end. His whole world collapsed into what he felt at that very moment. It was all there was, and she was the entire world.

He could feel himself building to climax. He moved faster, kissing her mouth, kissing her neck. She was soft and she was beautiful and she was wet and shewaseverythingand he was coming he was comingcoming ohgodhelovedher so much comingcomingcomingcoming

And it was over.

He'd lost the strength to hold himself up any longer, and kissed her slowly and passionately as he moved from being on top of her to beside her. She laid her head down on his chest and he put his arm around her, coming back to rational thought slowly. He moved his hand over her back softly and kissed the top of her head.

He was about to say something and she said, "Hush. No words."



"Not even..."

She looked up at him and smiled, "Not even. Got to sleep. It's very very late."

It was the last thing he remembered until the morning until he woke up, alone, covered in a blanket and a few minutes before the alarm clock went off.

The sleep still in his eyes, the dream still in his head, he heaved a sigh and sadly smiled. He said, "God. I miss you," to the silent morning air around him. He was alone, there in his bed and it was time for him to go to work. Hopefully she would call him tonight, since he hadn't been able to talk to her for the past couple of days. But she was busy in France with her classes and the time difference, so it was a loneliness he had to carry all on hiw own for yet another day.

* * *

In her room she put out the final candle and put the letter she'd received in the mail the day before back in the shoe box she kept all of his letters in. She got into her own bed, clad only in the black t-shirt she had stolen from him on one of the night she visited him before she had to leave for her summer abroad.

The candle smoked for a bit and she stared at it, making out designs in the air.

"I miss you too" she said to the silent night air that filled her bedroom in the darkness.

Back to the main page

2001 Solitaire Rose Productions