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Date Posted: 17:13:33 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Chapter 22 - Part 1
In reply to: KGilbert 's message, "Dreams in the Dark - Chapter 20 and forthcoming" on 17:00:21 05/03/02 Fri

Extra warning: There are some adult thoughts here. Be warned. :)

Dreams in the Dark (22/?)
by Katherine Gilbert


Christ! He could not believe he had done it, couldn't believe anything anymore; it was far too much to credit. He had, in the middle of the studio--in front of any and every person who might pass by--kissed her in a way he knew very well she had never even imagined being kissed before; there was just no excuse for it, was no apology he could give. He shuddered, the truth of his desires too evident. Had she not been so very, confoundingly virginal, he was quite certain he would have done much more. His heart pounded. Jesus. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by where this left him with her. If only he could even begin to find a way to say he was sorry.

Lord. Every one of these thoughts was overwhelming, was far too much. Michael was pacing now, was clomping across his dressing room in huge, tormented strides, before making another highly-distracted return journey; his mind, his soul, were in turmoil. He absolutely could not *believe* what he had done, couldn't begin to fathom it. Yes, of course, he had been wanting to do that for sometime--but there were many things he wanted to do with her, and he had, fortunately, thus far, managed to keep himself from those. He shook slightly, his soul groaning, as he tried to understand once more. Why on earth had he ever allowed himself to kiss her like that?

He had no clear answers, though; it was too much. He made one more, agonized journey across the room before he forced himself to sit at last, his head dropping into his hands as he did, his heart thumping; his breaths came in long, labored puffs, as he tried to calm himself--without success. Jesus--he didn't understand this, couldn't fathom any of it. Every single day, every second, he felt like he was spinning further out of control--his body taking on a willfulness he couldn't begin to comprehend. He groaned quietly. Might God have mercy on him now.

There was just no way through this--was nothing but fire and mental clamor; it made no sense at all. Never before in his life had he allowed himself to burn like this. Even with Simone, he had had patience, had known how to handle his needs--had never pushed; in fact, he had almost needed to *be* pushed in order to finally admit how much he wanted her. The groan grew louder. But with Nikita . . .

Lord. There was another, tortured moan, as he ran his hands into his hair, his eyes closed--his whole soul burning. He just didn't know how to comprehend--his mind running back, finding no clues. While it was true that he had, once or twice, lost himself to rage--while he had also, many times, given his body over to passion, freely and completely--he had never before acted or felt like this; the groan rose again, the truths coming with it. He had never even kissed someone so publicly--unless it were for purely professional ends; his heart thumped heavily, his entire form alive with anguish. Never in his life had he been so suddenly, completely overwhelmed by hunger--by a craving unlike any he had ever known; his whole body shook. And he had no idea at all of where it might end.

No--he just couldn't take it--was overpowered by desire. For the last hour, his mind had been focusing on nothing but images of Nikita as his erotic feast, of taking her like he was some primal, half-insane beast. He moaned. His body ached for the feeling of her not just in his arms--not just of the sweet touch of her lips against his, of the joy of her soft mouth--but for the intense, sensual completion of feeling her most tender places wrapped, tight, hot, and longing, around his own; the shaking grew more profound. He wanted to scream with the need to go to and take her--to make love to her until she forgot her own name, until she forgot how to speak. He wanted to leave the memory of himself in every cell of her body, in every corner of her soul, wanted to hear his name on her lips, as she cried out with desire and fulfillment--wanted to know every second of her ecstasy; he just needed everything she was capable of giving him as a woman. He shuddered more deeply, the truth screaming within him. And he wouldn't be content until he was the very first.

Christ! His hands fisted in his hair for a moment, pulling at it slightly in punishment for his wayward thoughts, before he forced himself to let go, to look up--his gaze still burning. It was enough that he had taken her the way he had, that he had, no doubt, violated her purity by simply taking that first, passionate kiss from her without question or warning; he moaned slightly. That he was now yearning for so much more, for things he could never ask her to give . . . Lord. He shuddered. There was just no way to process it anymore and hope to stay sane.

It was all too terrible, was far too much. It was this last realization which worked him, too--the truth far too evident, rending his heart. Just those last few moments they had spent together today had made their incompatibility too obvious--had made the problems between them too clear; there was no middle ground. He was a man who had lost his innocence over half a lifetime ago--who had since seen sex as both a pleasant diversion and an expression of love. But she--she was an innocent, one who had never known any real touch, who could never imagine the many ways such knowledge would change her; he shook his head, his soul sinking further. And he just didn't know if he could ever entirely remember these facts and hope to stay sane.

God, it shook him; he groaned, drawn into these thoughts further--imagining it all. Even if he were capable of holding himself back, of touching her softly, of introducing her to this new world of sensation as gently as she needed--even if he could ever deserve to be the one to take her there for the first time--he could never again quite understand or share the wracking intensity of discovering such sensations anew; he snorted softly, his mind moving further. And, even if he were able to remember such experiences clearly--as infinitely long ago as they were for him now--he could still never truly understand her feelings. He sighed. For him, after all, the first time had been overwhelming--slightly embarrassing--but there had certainly been no pain. But for her . . .

Oh Lord. His heart ached, as he groaned more loudly--utterly overcome. He just didn't know where to begin. Still, the truth was before him, as much as he hated it; his soul shook. Even had he been the sort of man who enjoyed taking such privileges with women for the first time--which he emphatically didn't--he could never have the right to take his pleasure from an angel such as her. No. His heart sank, everything in him in pain. No matter how much he might want it, nothing on earth could ever give him that right at all.

Christ. It was too much; he couldn't take it. He sighed heavily, his heart groaning, as reality set in even further--wracking him with every moment. Nikita was divine--was too perfect for anything as simple or degraded as his well-used lust. She didn't need a lover but a husband, needed vows of forever--needed a man who was willing to take hours, maybe days, introducing her to this new world gently and slowly, one who had already promised never to leave; he closed his eyes again, nearly destroyed. But this fortunate soul wasn't him. Nothing, no matter how much he might wish it, could ever make him worthy of her at all.

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Replies:

  • Chapter 22 - Part 2 -- Repost Fairy, 17:16:58 05/03/02 Fri
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