Nightmare

nightmare

noun [ C ]

uk

/ˈnaɪt.meər/ us

/ˈnaɪt.mer/

B1

a very upsetting or frightening dream:

a terrifying nightmare

I shouldn't have watched that movie - it'll give me nightmares.

B1

an extremely unpleasant event or experience or possible event or experience:

The whole journey was a nightmare - we lost our luggage and both flights were delayed.

Being trapped underwater is my worst nightmare.

-from the Cambridge Dictionary

Trigger Warnings -Nonhuman character, nonconsensual touching,

“Little Dove, what are you doing out here?”

The question stops her in her tracks. {Shit} She turns slowly, that voice she knew. Knew he means no harms, no harm doesn’t mean he will not enjoy watching her squirm. Kept creatures had only so many outlets and teasing the easily flustered was one at least for Dorian it was.

He stole his name from a short story, when she insisted he required one that she could at least use. Demon isn’t a name and she refuses to use it as if it were. His smile when he gave her the name was strange. He isn’t a demon, at least not as far as Lacey can tell. He’s not human, he’s barely humanoid, but he is her friend, when he’s not trying to tease her.

“Going home,” she answers when he continues to study her.

“Try again, this isn’t the way home.” His voice takes on a lilting quality so at odds with his ridiculously tall frame. Well, compared to her he is tall, though his actual height is a mystery, for a creature made of smoke he seems tall.

“I moved,” she says, the new place is still very new only two weeks since she moved.

“I don’t believe you.”

She sighs, held out the key between them, knowing he can sense the unique magic that held it.

“Why?” He sounds confused.

“Why not?”

“I’ll walk you with you.”

Something about those words make her laugh. “Going to protect me from the monsters?”

He pauses, going solid, a big black mass, not human, but humanoid, well at least slightly. His face is serious as he looks down at her. “I could,” he says, “protect you from all the other monsters.” A hand forms out of the darkness, he raises it slowly as if he would touch her. He never has, not in all the time she’s known him, and it’s not insignificant.

He drops his hand after a charged moment, settling his body into something more solid and real looking.

“Come on then, lets get you home.” They walk in silence, well she walks, he glides. His movement across the ground seamless.

He comes to a halt in front of her tiny cottage. The fact that she had not needed to tell Dorian that this was her new home should have unsettled he, but like many other things she just accepts he would know.

He appears solid and Lacey reaches out without though, her fingers falling just short of his suddenly roiling form.

“Little dove, that would be most unwise.”

“Why?”

He chuckles a low rough sound. “That you do not know, is reason enough.”

Lacey moves carefully closer.

“Brave aren’t we.”

Trembling she reaches out once more half expecting her fingers to encounter nothing. Fabric or a least it felt like fabric, but beneath it was warm supple skin. He stilled completely, his eyes change, going molten silver.

She gasps, tendrils of dark inky flesh caught somewhere between solid and ephemeral curl around her.

He tugs her brutally closer, uncaring that her feet scrap against the sidewalk as he drags her near. His breath is warm on her face. Smelling faintly of ozone and rain.

“Dorian,” she gasps.

He holds her closer, so close his strange tendrils move over her cloth covered skin

“Not so brave now that you’re in the monster’s clutches.” The words echo strangely, as if she were hearing them for a second time.

“So sweet, so soft, so mortal, so deliciously human.” He nuzzled against her, drew in a noisy breath. Curious a little unnerved, but mostly curious she stilled beneath his touch.

Hands curled over her shoulders pulling her closer, tendrils slide beneath fabric. His face hovered dangerously near and for a moment the desperation clawing at her nearly propelled her into motion.

It’s a test, and one she doesn’t want to fail. This close his strange eyes move over her with intent as if he only now allowed himself to see her. Smokey tendrils slithered forward curl around her. Shadows made corporeal, solid. They pulse with distracting energy, cool then warmer as they solidify holding her in place. His hands shift over her.

“Dorian?” This wasn’t like anything she had experienced with him. What did he want? What did he expect. Confusion held her still. A tendril moved against bare skin. Skimming across her right breast and catching the sensitive tip. She stiffened the sensation alarming and pleasant all at once. Those strange eyes watched, categorizing her response. He made a noise, a sort of low hum or purr.

“Shall I let you go?” he asked, “or shall, I see where else you might enjoy my touch?” He grasped her chin with careful fingers, teased them along her jaw. Urged her chin up. Little fires burned against her where he touched. Warm solid fingers teasing against her skin.

“I…” words wouldn’t come, her mind garbled.

He leaned closer, tearing a cry from her as he licked across her throat. He moaned, the sound low and gravely. Another slower lick made her shiver.

Another tendril curled around her hip, slither beneath her skirt. “Dorian?” she shifted shocked when those tendrils lifted her from the ground, forcing her to cling to him for balance.

He nuzzled against her throat.

“What are you doing?” she managed to force out.

3/18/25-The Faerie's Quill

cross-posted to some other unique sites.