Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ The Reality in Dreams ❯ The Reality in Dreams ( One-Shot )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

THE REALITY IN DREAMS
A Fruits Basket Challenge Fanfic

Written by Miyu, Vampire Princess


CHALLENGE(S): My favorite activity. Write where characters are doing what you like to do AND My dream. Either your favorite dream (sleeping) or your favorite dream (goal). (you=author) (wk 76/77 challenge)

AUHTOR'S NOTES: Part challenge, part "thank you" present. I've written several versions of this and just decided to put together bits from each and go from there. Told from Shigure's point of view. WARNING for LEMON content. SPOILERS for chapters 97, 98 and higher of the manga. A Standard Disclaimer follows the piece.



Fingers worked quickly over the keyboard. It was the perfect idea! A spectacular turn of events that it had to be pure genius! Events were falling into place now and the chapter would be done a day ahead of schedule.

"Let's see....."

But when I reread the few paragraphs I typed, it really made no sense. How could that be? It had been a great idea.

"Okay, let's try again."

Smoke came out of my fingers this time, my brain converting the previous idea into a new one. It's quite easy, and the ideas just kept coming! About a page and a half later, I'm ready to reap the rewards of my genius.

'That...doesn't sound right.' "Hmm...maybe...."

The third time had to be the charm. Erasing almost an entire page, my brain went to work telling my fingers what to write. I thought I would be quite pleased with the result, considering I'd managed to resurrect the first idea AND put another spin on it. Drama, passion, everything I had wanted to put into words!

'Let's see now....'

And it still sounded like crap when my eyes scanned the page again.

"*sigh* I give up!"

Pushing myself away from my desk, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. One great thing about having your workspace in your bedroom is that it's an easy commute. No boss or coworkers to look over the shoulder as I work. And I don't have to change clothes if I don't want to (like today for instance). Best of all, it gives me the opportunity to rest and try and tackle my troubles head on.

Naptime is creative time, in my opinion.

Dreams. A gateway into the mind, blending reality and imagination. It's the ideas and emotions I feed off of. The break my head needs from thinking and the party my muse needs to get going.

And if it'll help take away a burgeoning headache, even better!

Usually dreams come easily. But the block I have must be thicker than lead and longer than the Great Wall of China. Ugh...even my puns are suffering because of this accursed stoppage! Sleep! I need sleep!

That may, after all, be the key. I've had quite a few sleepless nights lately. It's different living in the house when most of the other occupants are gone save one. And I'm certain he'll move out before summer ends. He is engaged after all. The other two previous tenants moved out several months ago, just after their wedding.

Ah, the memories.

While I'm pleased that my doors and windows have been spared repeated torture and brutality, it's too calm. Too quiet. And I miss Tohru's cooking. The bachelor life is too much for me to really stand these days. It's nice to have the space, but I get lonely so easily....

Perhaps I should start from there. It's a good emotion to draw from. Okay, just think lonely. No, no, lonelier than THAT! Yeah, better. Think Crazy Lonely. No...Mad Lonely!

Is there really such a thing?

Whether there is or isn't hardly matters as my brain starts to develop an idea. Quickly, I force the image of a character in my head. A tall, slender woman. Not too tall, maybe taller than average, with smooth pale skin, dark hair and eyes. But it's always difficult to see the face clearly, no matter how hard I try.

In my mind I can see myself taking out my emotions on this woman, some kind of hidden anger. Am I angry? At my muse perhaps. Eh, maybe this woman is my muse.

Okay, so...taking out anger on someone. Not a new topic, but a start. A little brutality never hurt anyone, except maybe Kyo. And in this case it evokes other emotions from which to speculate and draw ideas.

Material rips and buttons pop, flying in several directions. If the woman before is scared, she gives no indication. Even as I remove one more roadblock, unclasping the front mechanism and parting the material wide. Her torso bared, she stands proudly before me. There's a slight shiver and a sigh. No argument. I know I can continue.

Every inch of flesh is touched, my hands maneuvering around hers as she slowly begins to undress me. Nothing difficult about taking off a yukata, that's why I like then so much, aside from the comfort. Easy access, that's my style.

As I toy with her nipples, she flicks a fingernail against one of mine. When I kiss her shoulder, her hand buries itself in my hair. As my lips surround a hardened bud, my tongue teasing the bundle of nerves, one leg lifts to circle part of my waist. I push my hips against hers and she pushes back. The continuous compliment is working me into a fury. When I think the switching breasts is enough to get her off, it's her fingernails lightly tracing lines over my spine that send me into a whirlwind.

A second of darkness, a momentary loss of thought and her descent upon me begins. We move back to equal ground easily enough. Where one touches so does the other. As her skirt slides upward, I can feel a breeze against my crotch. Cool air followed by the airy touch of padded fingertips forces my all ready straining erection to scream. It's my turn to sigh and I can feel my flesh turn to mush.

Suddenly, I'm the one standing in awe while she takes control.

I suppose I'm a closet control freak. Okay, okay. I AM a control freak. No hiding that. Especially in the bedroom! I enjoy being in command. Granted, there are times when being the helpless one is very much a turn on. And right now, I'm all about pleasure. Pleasurable ideas...yeah, that's it. Just sit back and relax....

Her hands are working magic. The scrap of her fingernails against my scrotum melts my flesh and ignites a fire waiting to burn. My muse is eating it up -- eating me up -- and I have no intention of stopping her.

This will be so great in the book.

I just hope I remember the idea when it's all over.

And like that, I think it IS over. My body is signaling a true release. Another wet dream to add to my record. But as my muse swallows me whole one last time, I push a little farther and hear -- yes, hear -- a surprised choke. My muse is showing now signs of stopping, but the feelings have so quickly disappeared.

Then my ears tune in to my actual surrounding, and I hear something. Coughing? Choking?

Coughing AND choking?

Holy shit!

My eyes snap open desperately trying to focus on reality. I'm not afraid. Just surprised. And curious. I don't know too many people who would sneak into my room in the middle of the day and give me a blow job. To be honest, I can't name a single person.

There's nothing but shadow at first, but ever so slowly my eyes focus on a young woman. That's good at least. Then I see her dark hair more clearly, her white blouse a stark contrast to the darkness of her hair and eyes. She leans back and glares at me angrily.

"I try to be nice. And you try to kill me," she mutters between coughs.

"Akito?"

She smiles -- smirks actually -- and sighs as she sinks lower onto the floor at my feet. She gives no indication of embarrassment or guilt. The fire in her eyes communicates exactly what she wants, and perhaps some disappointment.

That was the face I wanted to see in my dream.

And now it's real.

"Did I wake you?"

'No,' I want to say, but I hold my tongue. She has her hand wrapped around my cock, her cheek resting against my thigh. Her look of innocence is feigned, and poorly. I should lie, just to tease her. But the pressure of her grip and gentle, subtle slide of her flesh against mine is too good. I don't want to argue, let alone make her stop.

"Yes, you did."

"You seemed to be having a good dream."

"Was I?" I'm not convinced it was ALL a dream.

Her hand loosens, but continues its subtle movements. "Do you always have good dreams?"

"Not always," I admit. "But dreams do inspire me to write."

She nods to the computer behind her. "Writer's block?"

'If she only knew....' I smile despite the straight face I meant to keep. I reach for her despite the stillness I wanted to maintain. And I pull her to me, kissing her despite needing to come into her hands and drown in oblivion.

My brain comes up with a much better idea.

"Not anymore."

It's a simplistic way to end my writer's block and even better than a dream. Holding her in my arms, swallowing her moans. The fire I felt before begins to rise again, needing to feel her skin beneath my fingertips, rubbing against my own flesh.

The ripping sounds are real this time, buttons flying everywhere as I pull apart the white material to reveal two ripe breasts. Lately, she's taken to wearing nothing. No bra, no tape. Rosy tips point at me, daring me, taunting me. I accept their invitation with a groan, suckling one hard peak into my mouth and feasting on her soft flesh.

I feel the animal in me rising, wanting to play. Wanting control. With the curse gone, I thought the animal in me would have disappeared. Apparently that is not the case. Or perhaps it is true what some women say. Men are dogs. Plain and simple.

The way she's responding isn't helping either. She knows what I like. What will get me riled and what will get her what she wants. Her fingers touch my chest and caress my neck, until they slide through my hair.

The taste of her is as delicious as the feeling she evokes. From one breast to the other, I can feel the fire inside her. The flames of passion lick at my own skin. I want to eat her up, and I'm pretty damn close to devouring her. My tongue slips into her navel, her body rising so I have better access, but there's one more roadblock.

"Why did you have to wear jeans today," I grumble.

She smiles, pulling away from me. Her eyes take in my partially exposed form. I said yukata are wonderful. Dark eyes linger on my standing erection. I think she contemplating finishing what she originally started. But instead she stands, thumbs hooked in the waist band of her pants and begins to do a little striptease.

My tongue slides across my upper lip as the button of her jeans comes open and the zipper glides downward. Slowly. Very slowly. I'm graced with a lovely view of lavender. And lace. But it's a momentary distraction. The real show is just starting.

As the denim moves lower, the more of her long, slender legs I can see. Every inch makes my skin tingle. The cloth of my yukata causes my flesh to itch. And my hips move, too, suddenly uncomfortable in the chair. It's a long way down, but gods what a ride!

My eyes are fixated as the pants fall to the ground with a annoyed whisper, the lavender lace soon following. Bent over, she does a little shimmy, her breasts swaying seductively. My tongue glides across my bottom lip this time, and I find there is nothing in my mouth to
swallow.

With another smirk, she asks, "Satisfied?"

Oh, not hardly!

"Turn around," I command, moving the chair -- and myself -- closer to her.

She does so with a small twinkle in her eye. Yes, we both enjoy this position, but I have something different in store. As her bottom wiggles at me, I grasp her hips and pull her back to sit in my lap. There's a curious glance, but I only kiss her shoulder in response.

Without warning, I lift her legs, hooking my arms under her thighs and spread her wide. This forces her to lean backward. I feel the air rush from her body and the frantic beat of her heart. She's surprised, confused, but mesmerized by the possibilities. My hands quickly seek out the known sensitive spots in an attempt to be reassuring.

"Shigure.... Gods, wha--!?"

Legs spread apart, thighs resting on the arms of my desk chair, I methodically begin to tear her down. She's already warm, no doubt a reaction to the blow job she was giving me. But my fingers force warmth into flames, making her writhe in my grasp. Her hips roll against mine, her body wanting release. I allow it, caressing her clit and thrusting my fingers deep. Her scream is muffled by my throat, her body shaking violently in my lap. As she recovers, I mold her breasts in my hands, pinching the swollen tips until she cries out again, her back arching away from my body.

"Oh...onegai." It's a whispered plea, backed up by the eagerness of her body.

The animal in me no longer wants to play. It demands release. Lifting her, I manage to position myself and thrust upward. Her walls still shaking from her second release, I force myself to hold back. We both sigh, nuzzling each other in comfort and pleasure.

I lean back a little further and with my feet planted firmly, I begin a slow tempo. Her sighs give way to moans and her hips roll as much as possible. Heat adds to friction and causes not just a spark, but a wildfire. It isn't long before we're pushing against each other, moving together towards climax.

But my demon isn't finished yet. Even as she explodes in another orgasm, my body is moving, lifting her away from me. I hear her anguished whimpers and surprised intake of breath. But it's muffled by the roaring of blood in my ears and the need for dominance.

When I take possession of her again, we're in our favorite position: her bent over my desk with me standing behind. Okay, the desk is usually not a part of it, but in this instance, it serves a purpose. She moans again, muttering my name and several different curses. I simply smile against her neck awaiting the tell-tale signs of her readiness.

There is no mercy when I start again, the tempo hard and fast. She continues to moan, her hands having difficulty in finding something to hold onto. I grasp her hair and yank her head backward, kissing her with a ferocity I don't think I've ever experienced. It causes her the slightest of pains, my knees shaking with the effort to maintain the awkward position. But it is all soon forgotten. Thrusting deeply, our bodies grinding together, it's difficult to focus on anything besides climax.

'Please let me remember this for the book.'

One hand on her breast, the other caressing her most sensitive of buds, I feel her clamp down on me. A chain reaction begins with an explosion in my gut. Then the rush of blood through my veins pushes me ever harder. The friction pulls at me, continues to drive my flesh into hers. But it is the sound of my name echoing in room and the final rush of her orgasm that pulls me over. I bite into her shoulder, releasing myself inside her.

"No I came over for a visit. Hatori thought you might be lonely."

"I have work to do." Kissing her temple, I hug her tightly.

"Need any help?"

"Ah! But you already have."

There's a definite enticement in the melting of her body against mine. The purr in her voice only adds to her seduction. "Need any more help?"

"Like I would be foolish enough to turn away such a kind offer."

This book will be finished on time for sure!

And I have a few more ideas for another.


~OWARI~

DISCLAIMER:
Fruits Basket is owned by Natsuki Takaya/HAKUSENSHA - TV TOKYO - NAS - Fruba Project and licensed by FUNimation Productions, Ltd (for distribution in the USA). All copyrights go to them and not me. All characters are used here without permission. Please do not sue. I have no money, although I would be happy to give away my bills. ^_^