Does he Dream?

Does he Dream?

Satin sheets shifted over his pale body, tempting him to remember those eyes. Those hazel green eyes that haunted him; the eyes that are part of a face that holds a pair of pink lips parted in desire and fear.
The innocent thing had no idea what was flowing through her body and that frightened her.
That pale neck exposed to his touch, soft dark hair forced into large curls teasing him to undo it.

The satin sheets felt coarse when he compared it to the memory of her touch. Delicate fingers gripped his hand as she spun around. Her hair touched his face as she looked around her. She smelt sweet, like apples and honey, untouched.

He changed the memory then; she didn’t turn away from him, nor did she run. At long last he was able to taste her lips and caress her neck. He was able to draw her into his arms and hold her as the rest of the world dissolved.

He brought her to the room he was in at this moment and laid her on the very same satin sheets. Yes, he could smell her; honey and apples, fresh and innocent like a summer’s morning.

He started to undo her dark hair, pulling it out of the elaborated style and running his fingers through it. Then he nibbled her shoulder and neck leaving a trail of moisture.

The false memory had a profound effect on his body. Every nerve was alive and waiting to be touched. The sheets we suddenly confining and made him feel claustrophobic. He threw them back and exposed his naked alert body to the night air.
His hand started to trace a line down his chest and stomach as he remembered those eyes.
He sucked in his breath and one hand clamped down on his hardness. He manipulated the memories again to have her hand around him. Pulling and grasping, her small hand made him look larger than life. She parted her lips and looked to his eyes for re-assurance. He nodded and she continued to tease him.

The memory broke when he reached out for a glass bottle. Pale golden oil sloshed inside of it as he grabbed it and pulled out the stopper.
He dripped the cool oil over her torso and groin welcoming the chill. With his free hand he rubbed it over him, covering his body with a thin layer.
Then her took his oil-covered hand and caressed his balls. Playing with them, rolling them in his palm, imaging all the time it was her hands manipulating him so. He trailed a single finger up along the throbbing length of himself and circled his tip.
Shuttered eyes looked into the depths of his mind for the images he needed.

Her eyes shone in the moonlight, desire took over the innocence and she was his. She wanted to please him and only him.

She teased him because she knew he enjoyed it. The longer she held back his release the more relief he gained. It was a sign of her devotion, the way she pleasured him.

Two fingers rubbed the underside of his cock now, using a controlled amount of pressure. He was panting and arching his hips wanting more.
His unspoken desire was answered as a single hand wrapped around him and started to slide. The oil smoothed any friction, making the stimulation more natural.
The warm hand slip up just far enough to touch the sensitive head before slamming down to his base. Then it slowly rose up his length again, teasing him, taunting him.

Her green eyes shone, his oil slick body glowed. The air was filled with the scent of apples and desire, honey and almond, the musk of a moonlit night.
The hand sped up and jerked his cock faster and faster. As it throbbed and his balls tightened the strokes grew shallower touching the extra sensitive head.

The night exploded into starlight as he climaxed into his hand. The fantasy shattered and he was left alone and empty.
Jareth picked up the bottle of oil and threw it against the stone wall where is shattered.

Damn her innocent eyes.

Does a creature of dreams dream?
Yes he does; of a pair of Hazel green eyes filled with wonder.