Page 18 of Bonds of Magic
Then again, it was real, wasn’t it? That was the whole reason I needed to enter people’s dreams in the first place. I needed this to survive. And in dreams, I could try things I’d never do in the waking world.
Lance played with my hole, pushing the tip of one finger inside, then sliding it out, teasing me open slowly. He rolled the wet dildo up and down my cock, the smooth glide of the glass on my skin making me moan. It wasn’t cold anymore. It washot. I felt like I was burning up, but I didn’t want to stop.
He looked down at me again,and his smile was possessive. He was clearly enjoying himself, which meant he was enjoying makingmeenjoy this, too. No one had ever cared about whether I was having a good time before.
I wish Noah looked at me like that.
The thought popped into my mind out of nowhere, but once it was there, it was hard to shake. Because it was true. Lance was attractive, and I was turned on, but the man I really wanted was the one watching me back in the waking world.
If only Noah were here. If only it were him, slicking up the dildo with lube. His strong hands playing with my balls, sliding up and down my cock, bringing the dildo to the edge of my hole. A self-satisfied smile on his face as he brought me closer and closer to an orgasm.
When I looked up at Lance, I realized he was naked. His hand left my cock so it could stroke his own. I closed my eyes so I could really imagine it was Noah instead. I felt the dildo press against my hole and tensed. I tugged against the ribbons holding me in place.
I couldn’t actually take that, could I? It was so big. I hadn’t had to deal with anything like that since—
“God, I love it when you squirm,” Lance said, and my eyes snapped open, heat burning my cheeks. It was similar to what Sean had said to me too. Why did everyone like it when I was scared? Fear and desire pulsed in my core, and my cock ached for attention. Why didIlike it when I was scared?
Imagine it’s Noah, imagine it’s Noah, I repeated to myself as I closed my eyes again.
It was Noah, telling me I looked so sexy like this. Noah slicking my hole with more lube. Noah pushing that dildo into me with a stretch, a burn, and sudden relief as the head slipped inside me.
I groaned, feeling my hole stretch to accommodate the intrusion. It should have scared me. Should have made me terrified. But instead, I pictured Noah. Noah telling me I was a good boy, I was taking it so well, I was sweet and perfect and—
I came, hands free, as the dildo pressed farther inside me. I moaned, full of pleasure and shame. My cock pumped cum, splattering my stomach and dripping down my shaft. My body shook as the orgasm rolled over me.
Suddenly, there was heat on my chest, and when I looked up, Lance was straddling me, knees on either side of my torso, his cock at my lips.
“Open up,” he said again, and I did.
He slid his cock in and began to fuck my face. That was the only word for it. It wasn’t gentle. It was humiliating. But I was still riding high from coming, and all I could think was that I wished Noah could see me, being so obedient. Doing whatever was asked of me.
I wished Noah knew I’d do the same for him.
It didn’t last long. Within a minute, Lance had come so far into my mouth that I almost couldn’t taste it. I licked the tip of his cock as he pulled it out of my mouth and looked up at him, embarrassed, exhausted, and euphoric.
“Told you you’d like it,” he said again, and the scene began to fade into mist.
The weight on my chest lightened and the ties on my wrists and ankles loosened as the whole room lost solidity. The dream was ending.
It must have been my awareness that made the difference, because when the mist cleared, I didn’t wake up. I found myself back in the starry sea, looking at that green and gold star again, but from a safe distance this time.
I looked around, confused. Shouldn’t my increased awareness make it easier for me to wake up, not harder?
I frowned, and closed my eyes, picturing Noah again. But not straddling my chest, not touching me, not even telling me I was a good boy. Out of the heat of the moment, that felt too shameful, too humiliating. He’d cringe if he knew I’d thought about him like that. He didn’t want me, and he never would.
No, this time I pictured his cabin. The bed that looked so soft and inviting, the couch with its knobbly afghan, the plants on the windowsills. And Noah, sitting in that beat up wooden chair. Watching me. Waiting.
He probably hated that I was in his home. Taking up space. Taking up his time. He didn’t want to teach me. I didn’t remember a lot of the conversation from last night, but I’d retained that much. He probably wished I would wake up and—
“Go,” I said, sitting bolt upright on the couch and looking around in confusion. I caught sight of Noah, staring at me from his chair, and realized I’d woken myself up.
“Come again?” Noah said with a doubtful look.
I flushed, wondering if he heard the pun. I doubted it was intentional.
“It worked.” I smiled in spite of myself. “The anchor thing. It worked. At first it didn’t, I was still confused, but then something triggered it, and I knew I was in someone’s dream, and remembered why I was there.”
Noah continued to look at me skeptically.
