Page 33 of Dragon Slayer

Val reached into the water, then. The second his hand made contact, it curled into mist, but he kept going, all the way up to his shoulder. So that, had he been there, his hand would have joined her between her legs. She pushed a finger inside her sex and pretended it was his.

His voice came rough, frantic. “I bet you’re so warm in there. I bet you’re hot. And tight. And wet. I want to taste you.”

She let her head fall back, eyes going to the ceiling, the soft glow of lamp-shattered light across the plaster. Added a second finger.

“Yes, more. I would stretch you, work you open. And then – and then my cock. I’d split you open.” He gasped, desperate, broken breaths. “Mia. Does it feel good? Do I feel good to you?”

“You feel amazing,” she said on a moan, and stroked deep, deep as she could, wishing it was deeper. Wishing it was him.

Her arm flexed with the effort, and she heard the soft slap of the water as it lapped at the edges of the tub. Heard her own choppy breathing, and his. Imagined the weight of his body over hers, hot breath, and wet tongue, and the bite of his fingertips into her waist, the sharp press of narrow hipbones on the insides of her thighs. Slick slide of skin, a frictionless slide between her legs. Split open, like he’d said. Theimagethat conjured, God.

He growled, the quiet rumble of a big cat. “Mia,” he said again. “Come for me.”

She did, back arching, chest heaving up out of the water, sex tightening like a vise around her fingers. She closed her eyes, and stars burst behind the lids.

An orgasm like a full-body spasm, one that brought only pleasure, and wiped every bit of pain and worry from her system. She made a noise, something embarrassing and high-pitched. But she didn’t care; she gave herself over to it completely.

It was a slow comedown, muscles unlocking one at a time. She slumped back, boneless, so weak she was afraid she couldn’t get out of the tub, now, and blinked her eyes open.

Val’s face hovered over hers, expression reverent.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

“Thankyou,” she countered. And then emotion rose in her, a post-coital tide of endorphins crashing. “I wish you were here.”

He smiled like it hurt to do so. “I know, my love. So do I.”

~*~

Some days there were headaches. Vicious, throbbing, relentless headaches that made her flinch away from the sun and brought tears to her eyes. Those days were the worst – those were the days that she couldn’t do the things she wanted to do…the days when she started to wonder if, maybe, just maybe, Val wasn’t real after all. That she’d dreamed him up, and then dreamed Donna telling her that she’d seen him.

She was having one of those awful headache days when she took a tumble off Brando, and Donna banished her to the office. Alone, surrounded by all the ribbons and awards that marked a life she wouldn’t get to live any longer, she put her head in her hands and gave in to the tears.

Val appeared, then.

“My imaginary friend,” she called him, hating herself for letting the words slip, hating the sad way he tilted his head.

He disappeared suddenly, after that, vanished without a sound.

She didn’t see him again for three weeks.

---