Prohibited

23|Dream come true

                   A M I R A.    L U C I A N O

I saw myself in a dark bed room, laid across the bed.

"Fuck." He moaned as he thrusted deeper into me.

All that was heard was our moans, heavy breaths, and our skin making contact.

His strong biceps and muscles hovering over me. His tall figure blocking the ceiling. His gorgeous eyes on mine has his hands ran all over my body, as if  he was going to go blind and needed to remember everything about me.

His hair falling over his forehead, sweat on him and I.

Who was this guy?

All I could make out were his eyes on his face. The room was dark.

"Oh fuck yes. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" I screamed, my nails digging into his back, looking into his eyes in an attempt to make him stop.

He thrusted harder with every moan coming from my mouth.

The moon peaked through the curtains.

Well finally some light.

..

MAGNUS?

I shot up, frantically looking around.

What the hell was that?

A sex dream, a sex dream, A SEX DREAM ABOUT FREAKING MAGNUS!

Why the hell was I having sex with him.

I laid on the bed on my back just staring at the ceiling. Nothing else running through my mind besides what just went on a few moments ago.

I decided to get up and grab myself water after looking to my night stand and seeing the cup empty.

I walked myself through the dark hallway before I entered the kitchen, filling my cup up with water.

As I turned back around, I ran into something rock hard.

Startled, I look up, seeing none other than Magnus hovering over me.

I drop my glass to the floor, gasping as shards spread all over the place, water all around them.

I kneel to the ground, attempting to pick up the glass.

"Fuck!" I whisper yell, bringing my hand to my chest as I hold it tightly.

Magnus quickly takes my hand and inspects in. I had gotten a deep cut from the glass. Blood was now trickling down my arm.

He swiftly picked me up and sat me on the counter.

"Stay here and don't move, do you hear me?" He said strictly.

I hesitated as i stare back into his eyes.

"Vous m'entendez?" He repeated in French, sounding more serious.
(Do you hear me?)

I just looked at him. And what the heck did he even say?

I just stay quiet and remain on the counter. He walks away and about a minute later, comes back with a first aid kit in his hands.

He sets it down next to me and opens it, turning to me.

"Hand." He says shortly.

"I can do it myself."

"I'm not asking you, I'm fucking telling you. So give me your damn hand because if it wasn't obvious enough, you're the one who's bleeding all over your hand and cloths." He looks coldly into my eyes, inching closer to me.