Touch Me - Radio Fucked The Video Star

In Your Dreams

Sweaty, soaked to the bone.
Short of breath, he was dizzy. Panic...
The room slowly came back into focus. A dim white light from the ancient TV in the corner was still on, casting obscured and ominous shadows across the ceiling, walls, and floors.
Fuck.

Did he piss himself? Why were his pants wet? Why did he feel so, confused. It had felt like it had been real, without a doubt. But the worst part was that he could only recall the first half. It got... weird. There were flashes and seconds of clarity in his memory, but the images he was pulling from his brain were always the same.

He'd see the floor, red carpet, as he'd fallen on all fours. A sickly green light cast a shadow of his body from behind him, having nothing but darkness and flickering symbols on the walls. This had been no exception.
But there always felt like a part was just missing. Something else had happened, and he couldn't tell if it was something bad? Or something really bad.

The first time it happened, when it was Angel, that was really bad. Husk remembered that. Vividly. And how it felt. It felt so real... and it wasn't a nightmare at all.
That was a fantasy.
That was also new.
But it came with the territory. One drunken night of debauchery can turn into a lifetime of suppressed memories popping up inconveniently timed and vaguely explainable. Sometimes, it felt easier to just drink it away...
Or just do it. Grab him quietly and slink off to his room where no one really bothered him. They knew he liked his quiet.

Whatever it was. Angel was a mistake, a drunken mistake. But, it took the dreams away. He could sleep. There were no seductive thoughts creeping around in his unconscious mind. Peace could finally be found after they shacked up for a night. In fact, their relationship now was fantastic! It was no secret that Angel had Husk in his view from day one. Target acquired.

Much to Angel's dismay, it took a long time and a lot of alcohol to get that tent pitched.
But pitched it got indeed! And it was all well and good, until Alastor slinked into the room.

He'd appear dark, demonic, and smiling, just for a split second. Everything would flicker and flash. Then, darkness. And then that would be where it ended. Husk would wake up soaking wet, cold, or extremely hot, having a full-on panic attack. Hence, the bottle of scotch on his nightstand.

It was just a nightmare. A liquor fueled nightmare.
Husk wiped his eyes. They were wet, and he felt somewhat blinded. Like when you go outside in the summer for the whole day, but when you go in the house, it's like everything is darkness. That's what this felt like, but in what world would he ever wanna have a go with the Radio Demon?

WHY?! Would he ever do anything with that smiling freak? That bastard that had tricked him.  played him the fool in his own game.
He'd lost everything to him, given everything to him, and now there were really only two options; Try to find a way to stop having these bloody nightmares, or whatever they were. Or Alastor was just fucking around with his dreams cuz that's a very Alastor thing to do.
Or, he needed to fuck Alastor...? How in the actual, actual fuck was he supposed to make that happen, literally?!?

Every single soul that knew Alastor, knew Alastor was NOT a sexual freak like most of the crowd. It wasn't a case of just not finding the right one, it was that he had zero interest in sex or a relationship where that was a more than platonic. So Husk thought anyways. The truth was, Alastor just knew how to keep his business clean. But these dreams were exactly the same as the ones he'd have about Angel, aside from that fucking green glow.

That vibrant, eerie, piercing neon green. And the feelings that coursed through his blood in that dream.

Wrapped in chains, he wasn't alone, and that wasn't a bad thing. He knew Alastor was there, though he couldn't fully see him in the dark room. But he could hear his heels gently walking across the carpet. He could see flashes of him. That smile was impossible to mistake. And then he could remember flying up into the air, then being thrown down onto the bed by an unseen force.