Dark Side of my Dreams

Nathaniel tosses and turns, legs and arms tangled with the blankets, a film of slightly pink sweat on his brow. Fractured images dance and swirl across his mind’s eye –a seemingly endless stream of ladies of the night in cramped rooms in seedy taverns and bawdy houses… a hotel room in London with a strawberry blonde… Helene in a bathtub, Brigitte in a gown soaked to the skin crying in his arms, a chase through the streets of London holding bunches of flowers… an almost pretty young man, all soft curls and an academic appearance, gazing at him…

… a large room, maybe a tavern or a club… it is the main bar of Fiendish Pleasures… Vedis is greeting people at the door and Galyanna stands guard… music swells and dances in the background… the room is filled with the sounds of drinking and laughter and dancing… he finds himself on a luxurious couch, his head buzzing with desire and alcohol, the taste of rum on his lips… he is between two women, with an arm round each, idly brushing a breast with each hand.. Friends of his – Astrid and Ilyana… they are dressed as pirates, as is he… a silver-skinned female kneels between his legs – Ket’Lyn, he recalls… she leans forward, undoing his trouser buttons and taking him into her mouth, pleasuring him with consummate and professional skill… her hands are busy too, between the thighs of his companions, pleasuring them also… the atmosphere is heady with laughter and lust as the images spin around….

… and the scene changes, a small cave, that had once been Val’s den, lying with Gwyn in his arms, slowly peeling a leaf-like dress from her still short body… lying with her in her faerie boudoir, now tall and majestic and naked in his arms… his old cottage in the village, arms, legs and lips, tangled with Gwyn and Valene… a pool in the old Unseelie Underhill with Gwyn… Faermorn’s retreat, his mouth at her neck, magic and lust mixed in as he feeds, with Valene and Vedis there, stroking and encouraging him… Helene in the tub here in the castle… Maric, half-naked in his chambers… Dorina feeding from his wrist… Gywn and Janus bringing the land into being… Faermorn again, naked in a fountain, calling to her warrior poet… the shell that Maric had constructed for Vedis’ memories…

He jerks awake, his breath coming in short gasps… He lies for a while, staring at the canopy of the bed, slowing his breathing, occasionally shaking his head to clear it of the images. He tries to disentangle himself from the bedding, a process not helped by the swelling in his groin. He stares down at his member. “Don’t you start,” he grumbles. “I know we haven’t seen Gwyn in ages, but really…” He sighs heavily and gets out of bed, heading for the wash-stand, where he splashes cold water on his face… and other places. He dries himself off and lights a few candles. Sleep clearly isn’t an option for the moment, so he pours himself a large glass of rum and sits down with the accounts. Surely that would be enough to dampen his ardour. Even for a trained accountant, there was nothing stimulating in there, surely.

 

Dark Side of my Dreams

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