Blue Bottled Belly Dancers and other fine myths
I was dreaming, I knew I was. Sometimes you can just tell when it isnít real, when it canít be. This was one of those dreams.
I was floating in blackness, a cocoon of dark warmth. It was like space without the stars and vacuum, like free fall without the falling. The strange thing about it all, was that I could see myself, but couldnít seem to see anything else, just that solid darkness wrapped around me. I knew it was a dream, but it felt so damned real.
When I finally decided that it was just an odd dream, it became odder still. My vision let me see something else, my hearing letting me listen to the sound they made. Long silken lengths of cloth descended, though how anything could descend in freefall... but these somehow did. The noise they made was the soft whispering of skin against skin, as they slid down from wherever theyíd come from.
I watched in fascination as the soft cloth slid over my fingertips, and it was warm. It slid down my wrists, down my arms, and then tightened slightly. And I realized I was being held in place by those long silken, cloth tendrils. I wasnít afraid though, I liked it. It felt comforting rather then confining, and there was something infinitely sensual about the feel of that warm cloth, like the touch of a person almost. Almost.
Dreams are some of the strangest things, they tell you what you truly are, what you truly desire. I wondered even as I was having this one, what it all meant. What was my subconscious trying to tell me? I had my answer soon enough.
More silken lengths of cloth came from below, wrapping around my feet and slithering up my ankles, sliding further until they had a firm grasp of my knees, then my thighs, then they tightened slightly. Bound, and still I had no fear of it. I knew it was a dream.
I lay, or floated, in that blackness forever, bound by those long silken strands, held in place for an eternity. Thatís when I felt the hand. I couldnít seem to see it though, just feel it.
It felt so incredibly real, just one finger to start, sliding across my cheek, then my nose, then down across my lips. I opened my mouth slightly and it tapped at my teeth, briefly touching my tongue. Then it slid down my neck, danced across my collarbone and slithered behind my head to brush over the fine hairs on the nape of my neck. I shivered, and the finger was suddenly a hand, a warm, firm hand, sliding down my back, and then brushing around my waist and over my stomach.
Another hand joined the first and both began traveling the length of my body, sliding around and over every curve and plane, until I was so aware of my own skin that I could barely concentrate on anything else. I was becoming desperate to feel the full warmth of the rest of that elusive body. I wanted to touch but couldnít even see. I writhed inside my silk bindings, waiting for the rest. I knew there had to be more, I just hoped it wouldnít be one of those dreams where you wake up right before the good part.
I knew it was a dream. And in dreams, you get a certain amount of control, usually. This dream wasnít giving me any control; it was taking it all away instead.
When I felt the lips press against my neck I moaned, and wasnít at all surprised when I didnít hear it. It went on, all I felt for another eternity of torture were those warm lips and hands on my flesh, trailing soft paths, never lingering, just... brushing, caressing, almost a massage, or adoration. Like my body had become a temple, and those hands and that mouth were its flock.
What drove me nuts was the fact that both, while worshipping, never seemed to touch what I wanted to be touched most. In that respect, it was truly a dream, as only a dream could be that perverse. I could not move, couldnít beg with my body for more, I could not even arch or wiggle, so firmly was I held. No sounds escaped my mouth, so I could not plead, I couldnít see my invisible tormentor, so could not beg with my eyes. It was hell and heaven all in one.
I started to struggle, not because I didnít like it, but because I wanted more of it. I tried to move, to roll, to rip the cloth from wherever it was attached to. I yelled, yelled into the empty void surrounding me, yelled at that invisible lover. That of course, is when I woke up. I knew it was dream. But what I hadnít expected was that it was also real, in itís own way.
Apparently, my hair had come undone while I slept, slipping out of its customary long braid. Then I had seemed to stretch or some such thing, and my hands had tangled in the mass of hair. Then I had rolled over, and twisted my legs in the sheets and blanket until I couldnít move. The hands and mouth were real though. Because when I did eventually wake myself up with all my struggling, I found myself staring into a very blue, very stunning pair of eyes.
What I remember after the restaurant was being very drunk. I had started out with a nice buzz, munching away on the little snacks and drinking like there was no tomorrow. I donít know why I wanted to be drunk so desperately, but I did. I think, or rather, I know, it was probably Heero that made me feel that way. I had to get away from my emotions somehow, and thought alcohol would do it for me. I didnít bother to think about the fact that usually when one is drunk, alcohol does anything but dampen the emotions. So, I got completely bombed.
Of course the last thing you should probably do in a strange land, with even stranger company, is get drunk, but Iíve always liked to do things youíre not supposed to. I donít know how I managed to pay for the meal and stagger out of the crowded restaurant and down the street. I know Heero helped me though. Because I very vividly remember stumbling at one point, and he held me just a little longer then necessary to keep me from falling down.
Somehow, we made it back to the hotel, I say we, but really, somehow I made it back. Heero never once seemed to show any sign of being drunk, though heíd help me down three bottles of wine. It just figured a Djinni would be able to hold his liquor and then some.
I remember purposely brushing against him as we climbed the stairs to my room, bumping into him when I didnít have to as we walked through the door. I sat on the bed and pulled off my shoes, throwing them into a corner. I remember Heero standing in the middle of the room and just watching me, as if I were the most fascinating thing heíd ever seen. I hadnít cared though, and had stripped off my shirt and jeans without a thought, tossing them after my shoes. The next thing I knew, I was dreaming.
So it was back to waking up staring into the most exotic eyes Iíd ever seen. My first thought ran along the lines of, "What the hell do you think youíre doing?" I also said it aloud and had the rare pleasure of watching the Djinn blush.
There I was, trussed up with him on top of me, his hands still resting against my skin, his mouth inches from mine. "I canít wait for you to explain this." I said dryly, trying to wiggle my way out of the twisted sheets only to find they wouldnít budge. Which was odd, usually a sheet would have eventually untucked itself and released me. Not to mention, since when had I ever gotten my arms so entangled in my own hair that I couldnít move them? "Youíve done something, havenít you?"
"Yes, but you seem to like it."
I stared at him; there wasnít a shred of remorse in his voice, if anything he sounded pleased with himself. "How are you doing this?" suddenly, I wasnít sure what I was asking, and he seemed to know it.
"I am merely holding you in place, it is you who want to be here."
"I donít." Even to my own ears, it sounded like a pitiful denial. He knew it, I could tell just by the fact that he didnít even bother to respond, he knew I was lying. "Why are you doing this?" I asked softly, watching his face.
He leaned down again, until his lips just brushed mine. "Because you want me to."
My head was whirling, and not with the after affects of the wine either. I felt dizzy with anticipation, nervous with the waiting. Then I realized I wasnít drunk or hung over, which was strange all things considered. "I donít know what I want."
He chuckled, and I flinched back slightly when I felt his mouth so close to my own.
"Do I have to wish to make you stop? I mean weíve just met; Iím not that fast a mover. Besides, youíre taking advantage of my condition."
His lips cruised over my neck and I closed my eyes, tilting my head back. All the denial in the world wasnít going to help me; I liked it too much.
"What condition," He paused and lifted his head, "Master?"
"Oh god," Itís strange how that name comes to your lips so easily in these situations, "My drunk... I canít feel it any more, but I know I should be drunk."
"You are not drunk." He smiled and shifted down again, rubbing against my body through the sheets that wrapped and bound me.
"I... I should be." I couldnít think, I knew there was a reason I wanted to stop him, a reason this was all wrong. Too fast. Too much. But I didnít care. "What are you doing to me?"
"Only what you want."
"I donít want this."
Pitiful, thatís what I was. Because I did want it, wanted him, I didnít care that I had only known him for two days; I wanted him just the same. My Djinni. All mine. "Youíre taking advantage of... " I stopped as his tongue ran a line down the side of my neck, "Oh god... "
"Taking advantage of you?" He lifted himself onto his elbows and grinned down at me, grinding his hips against mine. My body betrayed me completely by thrusting back against him. "Yes, I can tell you do not want this."
He was smirking at me, and I flushed, closing my eyes against the sight. My hands clenched inside the confines of my own hair. He was doing something to it to make it keep me bound, though what I couldnít say.
"No." His mouth made another assault on my neck. "I have you right where I want you, human." He laughed softly and bit down on my shoulder. "If you really want me to stop, wish for it."
I could feel the bones of his pelvis; the heat of his groin pressed against me, he smiled again and rolled his hips.
"Thatís playing... dirty... god stop that... I canít think."
"Wish for me to stop." He murmured, and I felt the curve of his lips as he kissed me.
If I had thought I couldnít concentrate before, the feel of his mouth against mine undid me completely. But then I suppose after a few thousand years of life, you learn how to do everything extremely well.
Djinn are masters of the unexpected, at least this one was. And the one thing I never expected was for him to stop. Heíd seemed so intent, as if nothing but a wish would set him away from his course. I had given up on changing his mind; my own having been turned to jelly when heíd kissed me. I was surprised to hear myself say "No," when he pulled away, the sheets wrapping around my legs suddenly becoming loose, my hair releasing my hands.
The funny thing... was that all that time I had thought Iíd woken up from my dream. Only, when I opened my eyes, Heero was standing by the window, watching the dawn. Had it all been merely a dream?
I shook my head, and found to my vast horror that I had a hangover the size of a large country; it hadnít been there a few moments ago. It must have been a dream. Itís just, usually you know when itís a dream and whenís itís real. And there, on my shoulder, when I stumbled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, there was a faint imprint of teeth. Apparently, I was having dreams with bite.