'Moon Shapes'

Chapter 6: Further & Fervor I Go (Talek)

I held her eyes. Slowly approaching her from across the courtyard.

The moon blushing about the ground around, as I enclosed the gap between us. The smell of warm vanilla pushed along my senses; an already sensitive part of myself, was getting more and prominently firmer.

I'm not positive on how I came to be in her dream, but I wasn't going to complain or think too much on the subject. I want her. I can feel her immensely desiring someone herself – yet, I can only hope it was me.

I swayed her tightly in the crisp breeze. Entwining our fingers; my left hand lowering to the small of her back, nudging her closer to me. The insatiableness grew intensely, as my own senses couldn't stomach to fight the urges plunging away. Before I knew the right move to insinuate, to make her mine – all mine; my lips were tracing her neck. I couldn't control myself; I wasn't of my own body. I fell wholly to my suborned weakness. A hunger gnawed violently from the rise writhing within the entirety of body; to the drool scathing off my teeth.

In I went.

First, just the tip, then as greedily came to claim me, I fully engulfed.

Instant realization came flooding through. I pulled away in a gasp, but I couldn't keep her from seeing the freshly blood-tipped-fangs bulging from my jaws of terror.

"Are you ready to be with me now... forever?" I found myself spattering out.

The stars shifted from sparkles to speckles of white plaster on a ceiling. The moon, no longer parading around me, or her. She was no longer cradled within my embrace. Instead my blue body pillow was squeezed lifelessly (matter of fact, there was barely any cushion left in the top half of it) within my taught naked arms. I was in my room. Had I dreamt the whole thing up?

It was explicitly real; I could still taste the iron sweetness on my tongue. Wait! I really do taste iron.

Placing my index finger to my mouth to find a rich, red substance discharged on my chin. Was I bleeding? Or worse? Did I sleepwalk again? I chucked my sheet from me, springing from the bed, to the bathroom. The mirror spared no lie as my reflection established the petrifying fact, that I, was covered in blood.

Panic wasn't far from mind. The speckled auric eyes I carried, shouted prominently against the stains painting my face. What did I do?

"See... what dreams I can manifest for you... I can make it all come to fruition, if you would only... accept." Cooed a husky voice.

As if I had suddenly developed some clairvoyant gift; or that the off putting voice hadn't been enough to clearly suggest my rest was being absolutely obstructed, my attention was being begged as I looked down to the aching that throbbed across my forearm... the blood was coming from me... as if someone or thing had expertly slashed the skin with a blade.