Rating: Probably NC17.
Summary: PWP, I guess.
Spoilers: Nope. Frankly, plot? What plot?
Disclaimers: They ain't mine, but a girl can dream. And I do...
Feedback: Always welcome, kids!
Dreams are never really all your own, he thought.
His therapist had introduced him to lucid dreaming years ago, helped him learn to control his dreams. A simple defense against the horror of his nightmares. However, it didn't take him long to realize what else lucid dreaming could be used for.
He loved it. Knowing he was dreaming, and then completely losing control. Consciously deciding to let it all go. He would set the stage, and then allow the dream to expand itself. Something exhilarating about that controlled loss of control. It was really his only opportunity to be free from manufactured outward appearances and the endless judgment; it allowed an escape from all the expectations. So simple and so liberating to just step outside what the world wanted of him
That was how he ended up dreaming about the beach. There were no oceans in Kansas.
No one here to demand something more of him, no one to disrupt his appreciation of his surroundings. With his eyes closed and arms behind his head, he breathed in deeply, thoroughly enjoying the tangy salted air in his lungs and the warmth of a non-threatening sun on his skin. The rolling waves played a soothing music in the clear air. Sand, grainy and hot, against his back.
It had been so long since he'd been to the ocean. Not since his vacation with Lynn, and even that had been a double-edged sword. Certain things had been expected of him; goals were set and his behavior was carefully observed. There was no time. Time to be still. To be relaxed.
To be naked.
A small gasp as he realized he was nude. One of those little surprises his lucid dreams sometimes threw at him.
It was so unfamiliar to be this exposed and this at ease at the same time, especially outside. Not to mention in the sun. Most times, reality had forced him to hide his delicate alabaster skin. It had always kept this pleasure from him.
This is apparently a beach of forbidden delights, he thought, grinning
The grin faded away as his thoughts skirted towards other forbidden delights. Did he really want to make it that kind of dream? He decided he did.
Well, hell, why not?
It had certainly been a long time, considering he was a healthy young male. Besides, dreams were easy enough to suppress, easy enough to deny. For now.
So effortless to imagine him standing there, hair dripping wet and clothes positively clinging to him... just the way he had been the first time. Something like lightning to his brain, his cock rock hard. That mouth on his. So amazing, kissable, fuckable.
As though this dream was teasing him, a wave suddenly washed over his body. The extraordinarily frigid temperature drew something like a shout from him. His arousal, his incredible hardness, surprised him. The water and the sun were an incredible combination of extremes too intensely pleasurable to be believed.
Shifting his legs under him, he pushed himself away from the water's edge. The sand was coarse beneath his slick body, coating his broad shoulders and the tender backs of his calves. That sand was working its way, well, everywhere, but it wasn't entirely terrible.
He had to chuckle at that. Damn, he thought, where was I? Right.
Raven hair and severe eyes, filled with something indefinable, something intoxicating. And those damn lips. Eyes still closed, the image was forming in his mind so perfectly. God, so beautiful, like a woman nearly, but there was something more... Something animal and magnetic, and just so fucking hot.
His hands slid over his body, slowly, marveling at the half-wet granular feeling of his skin. He found a nipple and squeezed, hard. He had wanted it to hurt. Now, a hand moving purposefully downs his torso, over his smooth firmness.
He rather enjoyed the feel of his own body, so totally hairless. It was always so shocking for his lovers the first time they really saw him. All of him.
Reaching his cock, he pictured his soaked hero. Shuddered as he touched himself gingerly. He began to stroke slow and unhurried, because he wanted the dream to last. He hoped he didn't wake up too soon
Then he heard it. Footsteps on the beach, moving towards him.
He didn't have to open his eyes to know who had been introduced to his secluded paradise. Didn't even have to wonder, because who else would it be? Perhaps the only one who could truly understand him? The only one who understood the loneliness and deceitfulness of the world, or, at least, understood it to a degree.
The footsteps stopped falling and through his closed eyelids, he saw a shadow fell over him. He was being watched.
His cock jumped in his still hand. When had he stopped stroking? He resumed caressing himself, moving his body a little more now than he normally might have. He arched his back, and released small grunts and moans, putting on a show. His excitement built, and his speed increased as he neared climax.
Then he heard it:
"Oh, God... Lex."
That voice. That was all it took. Oh, shit. That voice. The obvious need, the desperation in it practically reached out and touched him. He came. Hard. The ferocity of it astounded him, and he cried out, calling his love by name
As he lay there in the after-glow, skin flushed and heart pounding, he became aware of his real surroundings.
The leather sofa under him. The crackling sound and subtle heat of the fireplace. He could still hear the echo of his cries in the room around him, the silence now as thick as the scent of his own sweat and sex. His pants and boxers were sticky, and hot, clinging to him. Very uncomfortable. And expensive.
His kept his eyes closed, his breathing getting closer to normal. He wondered vaguely what time it was. Maybe he would just sleep here. No servants to worry about this weekend, and the languor of his orgasm still surrounded him.
His eyes sprang open, however, when he heard a small cough. He snapped his head, eyes fast to the entrance of his study. Not alone.
He watched with a terrible mix of horror and delight as his unexpected visitor crossed the room, standing tall and very real next to him. He struggled to sit up, pulling a blanket over his lap. Maybe he hadn't been seen.
"You were, um... talking, in your sleep."
"Really? Well, that's not unusual for me. Were you... have you been here long?"
"Long enough." Eyes darting down to where the bulk of the blanket now rested, under which his gray slacks were dark, tacky to the touch. Something in those eyes... asking? Hoping?
"Well, you know I wasn't really expecting commfph... mmmmm."
All his thoughts ceased as those luscious lips closed over his, pressing with an obvious needy hunger. He quickly responded, returning the kiss in kind. It lasted several minutes, and when if finally broke, he was flat on his back, pressed into the sofa. His kiss-bruised lips curled into a lazy smile.
"What was that for, Clark?"
"You called out my name. And it's about damn time."
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