The First of Many

Reality Check

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A shaky sigh escaped you, a delicate breath as he reached for your face to smooth a loose lock of hair away from your eyes. He regarded you coolly, but you noticed a glimmer of gentleness behind his cold, formal exterior. His free hand slid to cup your chin, curling over your jaw as he tilted your head back, watching your throat bob as you swallowed.

You tried to jerk your face out of his hand and pull your hands free once more, but his grip on your wrists tightened, his fingers like stone, binding you to the bed. Much to your dismay, your struggle only succeeded in pushing your covered crotch more snugly against his thigh. Your distrust of the stranger was squashed back down by the friction against his leg. Conflicting wants warred within you, yearning and uncertainty both fighting to be the one to greet him — and desire was winning by a landslide.

"Shall I release you, after all?" he purred, his voice gliding over you, wrapping around you until you were hopelessly tangled within a silken web that you had no desire to escape. His cheeks dimpled alluringly as the knowing smirk resumed its rightful place on his lips. "And leave you here, alone?"

The question hung heavy in the air, like static electricity gathering, waiting to be unleashed. He remained motionless above you. Your mouth dried in rebellion, lips refusing to move, tongue stubbornly still.

The remaining rational portion of your mind wanted to ask him why he wanted you of all people. Why, out of everyone in this entire city, this country, this world, did he want you? You weren't anyone special or powerful, you had no exciting secret life. There weren't any gods or supernatural beings you believed in or prayed to. You were just...you. Regular old you who went to work, binged TV shows, and led what you considered to be an average existence.

He was something else entirely, though you weren't sure what. Maybe he was from another plane of existence, another planet — so why was he here? The thoughts flew through your mind, leaving just as quickly as they had come; tonight there was little space for those questions, not with the way he nudged your groin, a small movement that amplified the ache deep inside. Your entire body buzzed in anticipation, pressure building between your thighs. Logic had no place in your bedroom tonight, not next to the carnal need that tried to claw its way out of you, not next to the craving for this, for him.

He released your chin, the barest brush of cool fingertips down the flushed skin of your neck and chest, over the swell of your breasts. The touch of fire and ice continued down your stomach, to dance along the edge of your panties. The lace border had survived mostly intact despite many careless washes, though a few spots bore holes from where the delicate pattern had ripped. It was far from your most enticing pair of underwear, but he didn't seem to mind as far as you could tell. Still, you wished you were wearing something cuter. Silly as it was, you cared what he thought of you — you blushed at the absurdity.

"Hm?" His inquisitive noise brought your mind back to him, questing fingers skirting under the hem of your shirt, across the soft skin of your stomach to find the dip of your navel.

Without thinking, you shook your head, the tiniest movement confirming that no, you didn't want him to stop or leave. Your eyes widened in surprise. Here he was, the being that had haunted your nights, your dreams, offering you a chance at freedom. Maybe you'd lost it, maybe this was the dumbest decision you'd ever made — but your body acted of its own accord, making your choice for you. As your mind caught up to the physical sensations rolling through your body, the tender graze of his hand across your bare abdomen, it agreed with your body's primal choice.

Your eyelids flickered, threatening to close as his fingers rested over the tiny satin bow in the center of your waistband. The moment was much like the dream you had last night — but this time, there would be no waking up in the midst of it, if what he told you was true, that you were awake. Your legs parted for him instinctively, no longer fighting this. Your knees fell to either side, allowing him more room to skim the sensitive silken skin of your inner thigh with soft, cool fingertips. He offered a light tickling touch, like morning frost slowly warmed by the rising sun.