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Possession (And Other Rules of Law I Break)
Reply to PersnefPosted to the Roswell Slash list September 22,2000
Title: Possession (And Other Rules Of Law I Break)
Disclaimer: not a damn thing
To Joy and Jen: fellow deviants from the Candy Cause
I feel a hand on my breast. My eyes shutter open, and I take in the green numbers of the clock beside the bed. I watch as the numbers tick over from 1:59 to 2:00.
Beneath the sheets, the hand trails down my body and strokes my stomach. Another hand joins it in its slow, excruciating journey down my body, and I flinch slightly and inhale quietly as one cold hand touches my heat.
It feels like an icicle is slowly slipping into my dripping core. But it is better than that. It is the room-chilled hand of my lover.
I watch as Maria walks down the hall with Michael, her arm around his waist and his hand resting on her arse. It took a long time for Michael to be comfortable enough with himself again for him to trust himself around Maria. He expects to wake up one morning, and to find that she's left him. I know that he sometimes still thinks that he's too dangerous, or that he's not good enough for her.
I completely agree with him.
He's not. I love Michael. He's my brother, he's my best friend, and in another world, another lifetime, he was my lover. I believe in him, and I would trust him with my life.
But I don't trust him with hers.
She's fragile. Like a butterfly with the most beautiful, delicate wings. If you stand still and look attractive, she'll come to you. If you're lucky, she'll stick with you as you begin to move. If you're careful, you can touch her. But one false move, and you'll cripple her for life.
And so I watch as everyday Michael walks a fine tightrope to avoid crippling her emotionally and physically.
I would never need to walk that tightrope, because I could never hurt her, even unintentionally.
I savour the sensations. Max thinks the dreamworld dulls the senses, makes things harder to distinguish, but I always fail to correct him on that point.
I think he's just jealous that he doesn't have the power to see what Liz is dreaming.
In the dreamworld, all of my senses are heightened: every touch is more intense; my entire skin is more sensitive. The orgasms I have are more drawn out: they are longer and more pleasurable. In the dreamworld every motion is more erotic, and every word makes me wetter.
I can control what happens in dreams to a far greater extent than I ever could in real life.
Every night, Maria sleeps in Michael's bed.
And in her dreams, she fucks me.
*** End Twentieth of September, 2000 (we won the archery today! hooray!)
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