Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Sweeter than Sugar ❯ Sweeter than Sugar ( Chapter 1 )

I don't own Pet Shop of Horrors. I'm not sure what I think of this one. Probably the closest I've ever gotten to writing anything even resembling a "lemon". Ooh-la-la!

 

--M.

 

Fingers dancing and swirling across fevered skin. Gentle feather-light brushes turning into firm, sensual caresses then back again. Eye lashes fluttering like a trapped butterfly against a shoulder, a cheek. Lips pressing together frantically, lovingly, hungrily because it's never enough. Teeth rough and tender against a neck arched gracefully. Mussed hair ignored by ones so lost in passion.

 

Coiled muscles, wiry under warm, smooth skin. All hard and soft at the same time. Wrapped in arms like steel pillows, pressed against hard body. A flash of ebony hair and a sliver of amethyst and a flash of gold glitter from slitted eyes. A murmur, then a whisper, a tender laugh, and a breathy sigh escape in soft tenor.

 

Hands coming together; so sweet is the tender kiss of palms. Fingers twining, holding tightly, spasming, curling, clinging to the only thing in this wonderful haze that seems real. Deeper and deeper, farther and farther; there's no turning back. More and more lost as the seconds tick by. And then—

 

Blue eyes flash open in shock; his breathing comes in frantic, gasping pants. Leon's hands clutch frantically at his sheets as he lay in bed wide eyed and disbelieving.

 

'No way. No fucking way I just had that kind of dream about the Count.'

 

He sat up and roughly pushed his hands through his hair. Leon buried his face into his hands.

 

"No way." He whispered. He shut his eyes, only to be bombarded with images of a fey, pale creature arching and sighing his name in a voice sweeter than sugar. "No!"

 

Leon flopped back down on his bed groaning in confusion and frustration. 'No.' becoming his mantra, it echoed through his head.

 

"It was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything." He told himself rationally. "It's just stress from work, or that leftover pizza I had for dinner. That's all. It doesn't mean anything."

 

Leon stared at the ceiling of his room with troubled eyes. 'If that's all it was, then why did it feel so good?'