Fables/Fairytales Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ An elfish tale: Dreams ❯ First winter's night ( Chapter 2 )

His ears perk as his conscience questions the sound. Soft breathing accompanied with a slow heartbeat. Blinking his mind tries to comprehend the feminine scent in the air. Lying on his back something is on his extended right arm then it moves with a slight whimper. Using his arm as a pillow she turns over then caresses his shoulder to his chest settling her hand over his heart. Fully awake he turns to face the invader. The room is unnaturally dark.

 

Even with his night vision he is only able to see her outline. A scarf hides most of her hair however; a few stray plaits of hair escape the material. Possessing high cheekbones, wide nose and full lips he found her alluring. Clad in what he could make of a nightshirt her leg starts to ride between his. His first instinct to move is stifled as she smiles then nuzzles his shoulder.

 

His senses are dulled as her scent elopes around him. Shifting towards her he pulls her closer finding her pleasantly plump then settles back into slumber. In the morning he awakes refreshed but alone. Quickly rationalizing the woman as a dream he goes about his day.

 

Again…

Awaking again to her soft body he curls around her. Sleepily she murmurs, burying his nose in her neck he inhales. “Oh.” She arches against him her bottom settling firmer against his groin. Confusion shifts into his semi conscientious. She is human. Why would he dream of a human? Before he can respond his mind is dragged in to blissful slumber.

 

And again…

He awakens to her sitting opposite of him. Curled in a ball she watches him with an enigmatic smile. “I was wondering when you would wake up.” For a moment he felt uncomfortable. His soul is in danger. He should attack her she must be a spirit of some type maybe a succubus.

 

“What's your name?” Without thought he answers “Curu.” Touching his hair she smiles, “You have beautiful hair, Curu:” Scooting to his side she lifts the mass and inhales. “May I comb it?”

 

Her simple request relaxes him. A strange request from an even stranger spirit he finds himself nodding. Slowly she frames his face with her hands then traces each angle with her thumbs. With each passing moment his troubled mind becomes relaxed. Before long her hands stray into his sliver tresses. Questions fade as her spell wraps around him.

 

Pulling a comb from her own hair she begins to untangle his sliver mane. His cheek rests on her thigh from the steady rhythm of her strokes his eyelids begin to drift shut.

 

Over months she appears only after he slept for some time. Sometimes they talk, sharing secrets only a stranger would understand. Mostly letting time pass wrapped in each other arms seeking warmth and peace. Each morning he dismisses her as a figment of his imagination. Even though each night that she doesn't appear he becomes restless.