She Is His

My King, My Heart

The moon was high in the dark sky when Jessie succumbed to sleep. Dream listened to her soft breathing. She had curled herself on his left side with her head resting on his collarbone. Dream had wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close to him.

The night started out innocently enough. Sipping on her beer, she answered Dream's question about her childhood, family, growing up and her adulthood. They sat with a space between them that slowly shrank. They forgo dinner for the boss provided a big lunch at work and Jessie was still full from it.

Dream slowly drank, relishing in the notes of the summer lager. Alcohol has come a long way from the pissed flavor ale and fruit filled wine from before. He listened to her words; the picture of her life came into view. She was happiest when she was able to be herself, a high energy person who apologize for nothing. He clenched his teeth when she spoke of past love and the failing of relationships. 

Those people should be damned for not seeing that she is a treasure. Dream thought as the two moved closer to one another without realizing it. Rising his arm to stretch it across the back of the swing, he felt Jessie move to him. Looking down, he smiled as she laid her head and hand of his chest.

"Jessamy favored my left side too. I always wondered why?" Dream noted more to himself than Jessie.

It is where your heart is." Jessie answered, her eyes growing heavy.

Now, fully in slumber, Dream carried Jessie inside. Since there was no couch to lay her on, he would have to go into her bedroom. This time, the door was open. The pale light of her nightstand luminated the room. The walls were a pale parchment color with black trim. Another dozen or so suncatchers hung in the windows, to catch the afternoon light. A dark stained antique wooden dresser with a mirror stood on one wall. A full size, rod iron framed bed sat across the dresser with black bedding. Her closet door was closed and next to the dresser. The walls were bare, no painting or pictures were hung. The paint on the walls was fresh, she had been remodeling as of late.

Turning down her comforter, Dream tucked her in. Moving a strand of hair from her eye lashes, he bent down. Gently, Dream brushed his lips against her temple.

"Sweetest dream, my Jessie." He whispered into her ear. She softly moaned, as she buried herself into her comforter.

"Mi rex, cor meum." She whispered. Dream stood up straight. In her sleep, Jessie spoke Latin, a language he had not heard said out loud in some time. Jessie never said that she knew Latin, and he doubt she did. Jessamy knew Latin, for it was one of the many languages Dream spoke to her over the years.

She had said to him 'My king, my heart'.