by Battus philenor
Archive: Please ask first I might say yes.
Disclaimer: I have no claim to anything CSI related. I get nothing from this but happiness in doing things that those who do own CSI would never do.
Author's Note: A big thank you to Ghibli who did beta this for me. However, I did do much more editing after that, so I am the only one to blame for any errors. Also, this is sort of a companion piece to A Symphony at Dawn. While reading that is not necessary, I would be pleased if you did. :)
Summary: A Companion piece to A Symphony at Dawn, which you don't have to read, but...
Copywrite © by Battus philenor 6/2004
His hand slides slowly across his stomach; inching down towards the piece of flesh that's coming to life. Hardening in his sleep, his hand reaches the organ and begins stroking; long slow pulls on
the now fully erect tissue as his dream continues, playing out the scene with Sara.
Brown hair bobbing lovingly at her own achingly slow pace. His hand wrapped in her locks feeling her rhythm, following along without guiding or directing her movements. He's at her mercy, the whim of her tempo, the swirl of her tongue, and her gift for knowing when to increase suction and pressure.
He lays there; in his dream state with the woman he loves loving him back in the most intimate of ways. Manipulating his flesh with her mouth; her hand caressing that which hangs below, moving him ever closer to completion without hurrying him along.
Eyes so brown look up adoringly at him as if begging for him to release into her mouth; pleading with him to be allowed the pleasure of swallowing his sweet offering. Certain she's unwilling to waste one drop, those eyes will him to give in to the pressure that builds.
Shouting her name, his eyes spring open as his seed shoots out against the white bed sheet; the damp spots appear to grow as they're absorbed into the fabric covering him. Pulsating still, his flesh remains in his hand, twitching as his eyes close again, squinting as he tries to recapture the image of her pleasing him.
He longs to complete the dream this time, finally being allowed to watch her mouth release him as she climbs back up his body. To see her look at him with a love that is unending. To know, just from the look in her eyes that she wants him only.
To feel her heart racing next to his, her arms wrapping around his body as if thankful to love and be loved. To feel her head rest on his chest, her breath tickling across his skin and moving the hair there every time she exhales.
Unable to slip back into the fantasy, he realizes he's still holding himself, again becoming aroused at the idea of her being in his arms. Just the thought of her has always made him ache with a longing in his heart, but the stirring down below was becoming as irrepressible as his love for her.
This daily routine which always leaves him hollow, empty somehow at having almost had her where he's always wanted her, by his side, in his arms. The loss when he wakens after having her in his dreams is worse than never having had her at all; which had been his reasoning for keeping her at a distance to begin with. A preventative measure against almost certain loss.
Rolling onto his side, flesh still in his grip he pulls a pillow close with his free hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny whimper of a thought starts to cry out to him that he doesn't have to pretend anymore. That this weak imitation he's clinging to, that he pumps his hips into could be her.
As he nears his release for the second time this morning, he listens to that cry, and believes it. At this moment he knows he can't do this anymore, can't be with her vicariously through his pillow. That he can't be this lonely anymore.
As the now damp pillow lay motionless in his arms he vows silently to that inanimate object that he'll try, that he will risk it all for her. Feeling sated for the fist time since this routine has started, sleep captures him and takes him quickly back into the night.
- The End -
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