I dreamed about you again last night.

It happens so often. I wish I wouldn't. This time you were there at my workplace: you'd gotten a job there. Part of me was excited, that my friend was there and would be a day to day part of my life. Part of me was frightened, because --

-- well, you know why.

I came into your office, to ask for something, and you kissed me. That wasn't what I'd asked for. I said, "I love you," and this time you said, "I love you too." Was that better or worse than last time, when all you said was, "I know."

I left then, because you frighten me. I walked outside. It was daylight, clear and warm and summer free, and in the dream you came after me.

You're not supposed to do that. Stay away, back in the back of my mind, where it's safe for you to be.

You came after me, and then it was night time, and I'd never seen you before. You walked into a crowded room, where I was waiting for you, and when I saw you, a part of me just knew.

I've read ElfQuest for twelve years. I've had friends who described sensations like Recognition: eyes meet eyes and soul meet soul. Humans don't Recognize, but if they did, I would have Recognized you in that moment.

A dream. So intense. Your eyes, more seductive than I'd imagined. Your voice, more gentle than I'd dreamed. Your cruelty, that thing that had attracted me to you in the beginning, that simple, devestating caustic wit -- all but gone, masked in humour and laughter and warmth. It was terribly wrong, and painfully right. You owned me, then.

We walked outside. Daylight again. Sometimes we held hands. Mostly we laughed and danced around each other, children discovering a new game.

Discovering the game. The one about sex and power and giving and taking. I was excited all over again, in the mindless way of childhood, before the first kiss. I'd never been kissed. We were too loud, trying to push intimacy away, and no cars drove by on the street.

The sky changed again. Stars, impossible in the summer time. There were streetlights, and we walked. Sometimes I would stop and look at you, and you would stop and look at me, both of us too close to the other, and then both of us would curse and laugh and look away.

A clock rang a morning hour, when we'd left the office in the afternoon. It made us stop, and we somehow there was no space between us, and I was looking up, and you were looking down and our breath came too fast and hearts beat too hard, and one of us kissed the other.

I'd never been kissed before. I'll never be kissed that way again. We stood so long, so close, hesitating, waiting: would it happen? Only in movies are kisses like that. Camera pans in on the lovers, we're the lovers, shy, knowing each other, understanding each other, entirely, and from the outside it looks electric, the director cast the parts perfectly.

From the inside it was electric, and we broke apart, even more breathless than before, eyes wide, and I'd never been kissed before. I'll never be kissed again. Summertime. First kisses. We walked along again, not touching anymore, as if it were now too dangerous.

Until you grabbed my arm and pulled me around and kissed me again, this time intensely, angry and desperate, and when I opened my eyes we were in the office again, but the computer was gone off the desk. Sunlight came through the blinds in thin slats, and I fucked you.

The uncertainty seemed idiocy, now, while we pulled each others clothes off, tasting and biting and growling softly at each other. Your skin was so soft, softer than it had any right to be, and you smelled musky, a little bit of sweat and a little bit of smoke and other things, undefinable. It wasn't my first kiss anymore, or my first lover, and I was hungry for you.

We were naked at about the same time, pants tangled around ankles and other clothes dropped onto the floor, but you pushed me back onto the desk, kissing me, biting my mouth, pressing me flat. My hips were on the edge of the desk. You held my hands above my head, and grinned at me, that wild-eyed grin. With my gift of tongue, I whimpered, and tried pushing against you. You only let me move a little, but then you let my hands go, and kissed your way down me, no special attention to breasts or belly because you had a goal.

Oh god.

It couldn't be that good. First tongue and teeth, then fingers -- I don't know what you did. I don't know how you did it. But you could do that to me for the rest of my life, please.

Impatient me. My turn. The desk had turned into a bed by now, with a red comforter. I told you to stop, stop, I wanted you now, and you did, practically purring, and I pulled you onto the bed and pushed you onto your back, hungry. Bit your neck, tangling fingers in your hair. Warm, sweet smelling. Bit at your nipples, fingernails pulling down your sides. Letting you know I'm there. You growled.

"I'm gonna make you come," I told you, and you laughed very quietly, sounding sure I would.

Taste. Tongue and juxtaposed texture: such soft skin, silky, so hard. Bury you in me, your whole length, my nose in curls, swallowing you as thoroughly as I knew how, teeth offering sharp, delicate counterpoints to tongue. Every trick I know, teasing, sucking, long strokes and short pulls, and I did it well because you whispered my name and shifted under me, asking for more.

I pulled away. Long slow drag away. Now you whimpered. Good. I leaned far forward, to kiss you, my body pressed against yours, and then I couldn't stand it anymore. My thighs on either side of your hips, and then, watching you, I slid down onto you.

Oh god. Simply that, having you in me, and I came, shuddering. There was a look of pain on your face, excessive pleasure, and it couldn't last long, this first time, but to have this dream.

You watched me, as I watched you. I found your hands with mine, pulled them above your head so I could lean forward, using you as an anchor to push against you. The first time is exquisite. Slow. Aching.

The second, I lost all sense of proportion, and simply had to fuck. Lips and cock and cunt all ran together in hard movements, and I felt bruises being left on my neck. Your kisses made me come again, and when I did, you grabbed me and rolled over on top of me.

I caught you in my legs, held you with arms and calves wrapped around you both, but I couldn't move enough that way, and had to let you go, just a little. Hips shoved together, hard, harder, and I felt that Oh God pulse, the deep throb of a man coming inside me, and if I hadn't before, I would have then, and did again -- I came again, cross-eyed, and whimpered, burying my face in your shoulder.

When I woke up, I was wet, and hungry, and I'd never been kissed.