Dream Boy In Shadow

Here I am again.

It's chilly tonight, as this city tends to get. I pull the front of my faux-mink coat closed to cover my lovely, ample bosom--no I'm not wearing real fur out here, the Jessica Rabbit dress it's concealing is enough of a problem-starter for this neighborhood, thank you very much.

I've been scoping this place out for weeks now. It's changed hands since I visited last, new owners re-named it "The High Cap." Still a nice looking place on a bad looking block--the patrons are from up the hill, white people with money and nice clothes. The people outside live here, like I used to--they're the ones buying and consuming every major drug available on the streets. And the guys selling it are shipped in from overseas through a major gang, a lot of 'em don't want to be here.

I feel bad for all these kids outside. Those people inside don't care. Fucking cocksuckers.

Alright, enough grumbling, grandpa. Steel yourself.

Put that beautiful face on, it's show time!

I open the door with all the pomp and flourish of a diva and make my grand entrance. It's all eyes on me, and I've been practicing this little catwalk in these stripper heels for days, so let's let 'em have it!

I take a seat near the far end of the bar, by the restrooms, remove my coat, and wait. The bartender is there in a flash. Fuck, before I got these tits, I never got quick service at a fucking drinking establishment. Still makes me a little angry. Note to self: maybe make use of this time-travelling stuff for a little mischievous payback later.

I'm off-duty today and funding this one out of my own pocket, so I tell him I need some time to think it over and ask whether they have a menu to peruse. To my surprise, they do now. Guess the new owners wanted to try to give the place some class. Ha.

Maybe I'm intimidating, maybe these guys just suck. Nobody wants to come sit next to me. Oh well. Perhaps they sense my dark thoughts.

"So, little lady, what'll it be?"

I'm glad the 1940's are back in style in this decade, people are finally dressing well again. Dude's got huge muttonchops and the classic cliche bartender get-up with the white shirt and black vest, complete with those funny fucking arm bands on the upper sleeves. And unnaturally long arms.

"Just give me something that looks like cum."

He comes back with a well-shaken White Russian. Ha. I like this guy. I file him away under "contingency plans" for the end of the evening. We'll see how the night goes.

I sip my cum-cocktail (and swish) and peep the scene. Let's see who's all here tonight.

A few of the usual faces I've been observing for the last few days. Some uh--what did my ex Alexei used to call them? That's right--yabo's. A few of those, being obnoxious and out-of-touch. And over in the shadowy corner in the back, at a round table by himself, sits a motionless man. He appears to be older, hunched slightly over a whiskey highball like your typical permanent human bar-fixture, with long bushy hair and a large beard to match. Hmm.

I don't take long to make my way over to him. I put that big, well-sculpted smile on my face, and my best bedroom eyes, and circle him like a cobra, surreptitiously peering beneath the brim of his raggedy hat. I dance my fae dance around his table until I can see into his eyes.

Yep, that's him alright.

My fairy feet glide right past him into the restroom.

Target locked. I guess I'll "powder my nose."

I fucking hate space-blow, but, this is a strict no-sleep-zone here, so I've been having to supplement the pathetic excuses they have for energy drinks these days with stronger stuff. At least this shit still gives me a rush, unlike regular blow.

I damn near kick the door off the hinges upon my exit. Shit, I forgot I'm supposed to be femme right now. Hopefully no one saw that. I return to my seat and order another drink ("Barkeep, I need to gargle some more!")

It would seem that someone did notice my accidental flourish of uh, eccentricity. Like a shadow materializing, a young man suddenly appears by my side. I don't bother looking over at him.

"Can I help you?"

"You came sliding out that alleyway like butter drippin' off a hot biscuit," he says with a smile, in the fucking corniest damn Tom Waits voice. Kid doesn't look a day over 30. Ugh.

"Sweetie, I'm not in the mood for boys tonight. I want men."

I finally turn to give him my best dead-eyed bitch-face. He smiles with his eyes at me, I look into them, and for a moment, my heart pauses its beating. That face...

No, there's no fucking way. No!

Not today, damn it. Not fucking today. Please.

Fuck...

...

He looks just like Andy.

The utter pain that suddenly rips through my heart and soul knocks my careful mask off my features, revealing for just a moment the anguished expression of the true face beneath. He sees it, and his eyebrows raise, widening those damn fucking beautiful eyes so they catch the light and fucking sparkle like he's an anime character. Fuck!

Goddamn it! Sorry, God.

"I have to go."

And I'm gone.

Fuck! I ran away--just like the day I met Andy. Oh God.

With expediency, I get myself out back to the nearest alley and struggle to slow my shallow, rapid breathing, suppressing hot tears. Not again! Fuck! What am I doing?

I slap the wall with both palms in anger and grief, and the tears start to leak out.

I hear someone behind me, and pivot around.

It's the boy.

"Hey, uh, I didn't mean to upset you back there."

What a beautiful voice. I don't remember what Andy's sounded like, but, I think it was just like that.

There is so much pain built up inside me from the long, dark years without his sunlight. All those terrible days and nights, crying myself dry, longing for my dream friend. Tormented by guilt--I've never stopped blaming myself. Everything comes flooding back at once, and the maelstrom of heartache renders me nearly speechless.

"You didn't. I-I just... I don't know... Ugh!"

What the fuck! I thought I was a smooth-talker! I haven't been knocked off my functioning this bad since, well, since I was still being eaten alive by grief (now I'm just being eaten dead.)

I look at him, and my gaze is drawn straight back to his beautiful eyes. I am overcome by a lifetime's worth of pained, unrealized love.

"Andy..."

"Andy?"

"Oh, shit. Forget I said that."

He keeps looking at me with those fucking gorgeous blue skies in his eyes. I don't think he knows it's breaking me. I've seen them before, haven't I? Somewhere...

"Are you alright?"

I'm crumbling beneath his gaze.

"No."

Somehow, the actual truth issues freely from my mouth, and I'm shocked. What the fuck is wrong with me? Fucking shit.

"What's going on? Can I help?"

Is that genuine concern, or is he just an expert Casanova? I can't tell.

*He cares.*

Andy?

*He's safe. Don't be afraid of him.*

Andy! Why haven't I heard from you in so long?

*It's okay. Go to him now.*

What?

*Now, baby.*

The boy is looking at me a little quizzically. I never know how long those internal conversations we have actually last in real-world time--hopefully I wasn't saying it all out loud again.

Fuck it. Whatever you say, Andy. I always listen to you.

I reach out and touch the boy on his hand, and look into his eyes. He looks back, gorgeous to behold, but I can't read him. His fingers delicately touch mine, and then interlace with them.

My heart feels like it's going to burst.

And just like that, I'm kissing him with all the fervor and longing that I had to hide away for all these lonely, horrible years.

His mouth is soft, warm, and wet, and I wonder, is this what kissing Andy would have felt like? My searing-hot tears boil and brew beneath eyelids closed by grief and need.

He laces our other hands together, pressing both his palms against mine, just like I always wanted Andy to. His hands are surprisingly heavy, like his bones are made of iron, yet, they still feel exactly the way I imagined *his* would have on me. He quickly begins caressing and squeezing my body. Oh God, I've wanted this for so long...

One of my legs hooks itself over his thigh and pulls him closer to me until our hips are grinding against each other. I slide my hand down the front of his pants and rub on something massive sheathed beneath.

"I need you." Fuck, the words just slipped out again.

I'm breathless between the deep plunges of our tongues into one another's mouth. The boy's grip on my leg tightens, and he pushes me back against the wall. One of our hands, I don't know whose, unfastens his belt and unleashes his big beautiful blessing, while the others' pulls my panties to the side. My little paw encircles him to feel what he's working with. It can't fully close, and I am pleased. Happy with its find, my hand returns to grabbing and pulling on the roots of his long, wild hair. Those luscious lips of his stay pressed to mine, his tongue snaking ever deeper into my mouth, and then he presses his immensity directly into me, no hands needed.

He feels beautiful. This feels beautiful.

What am I doing?

He pauses and squeezes me in his arms tightly, and we are both spellbound by the sinfully divine feeling of our carnal union. He looks into my eyes, and as I moan, his mouth opens, as if he's breathing in the sounds of my pleasure. The muscles inside me swell and expand, and an intense wave of feeling spreads from within my womb outwards through my entire body. I feel my inner walls gripping at him, urging him to enter further. He obliges.

It's like drowning in an ocean somewhere beyond dreams, beneath the crushing waters of the grief that slowly kills me even still. With every push into me, I expand to pull him in more deeply. My arms are locked around him, they won't budge.

Please, don't ever let me go.

He's getting close to the hilt now, and he's so big I gasp sharply in pain. Pausing immediately, he gently strokes my hair and gives me time to recover. My entrance is stretched as far as the skin will go without ripping, I'm at my max. He holds me, not moving, and breathes with me. My hands cup his face and I kiss him just like I would have kissed Andy--with the entirety of my burning, screaming, dying heart.

I want him so much.

Exhaling slowly, I adjust my position to open my hips wider and do my best to relax. I can feel one of our heartbeats throbbing in my fully stretched sacred gate, again I don't know whose. With each tremor of the pulse, my ache for him grows and grows, until I can't take the need anymore and I start to push myself further onto his beastly blessing.

The pain is unlike any I've felt from oversized manhoods before--it stings and burns. Normally, they just tear the skin open a bit to gain entry, but his cock is stretching me, and this is the furthest I've ever gone. The pain is strong, but my need for him is stronger. I keep going.

"Yes, take it," he whispers into my ear, and the heat tickles like icy thorns across the back of my skull.

Another millimeter. He pauses, allows me to adjust. Repeats.

Another, another. I've never felt it burn like this, but I can't stop, I have to have him all.

Just a little further.

"Oh, fuck."

At last, his pelvis finds its rightful place nestled firmly between my open legs, and he is at long last fully sheathed in my spasming little pussy. My long stiletto nails are digging into the skin of his shoulders, and both of our bodies are shaking with the intensity of the feeling of our coming together (no, not *that* kind of coming together--not yet, at least!)

Slowly, he begins rocking his hips gently, and I am in Heaven. He builds up the speed and strength of his rhythm gradually, driving me into an agonizing ecstasy. I feel the power inside him growing with each push of his immensity into my tiny, burning-hot body.

My claws pierce the skin of his shoulders, drawing blood. Momentum builds, force increases. Every thrust slams me hard against the concrete wall behind me. We're entangled, our energy building and building, and soon comes my eruption.

My legs snake tight around his waist as a shattering climax shakes through my being. Bodies vibrating and ringing like bells, my walls come squeezing in on him over and over with strength I didn't know I had. I feel him swell inside me, and he erupts too, filling me with streams of his essence that seem to flow forth unceasingly. Our growls of heated pleasure mingle together in the cold night air.

He holds me, still pressed against the wall, for I don't know how long. I feel his warmth all within me, it feels like sitting in sunlight. When he does eventually pull away, more of him comes out of me than I've ever seen come out of a man at all. It's beautiful.

We readjust our clothing, and his blessing disappears back into the black jeans from whence it came. He looks into my eyes with a look, but I don't know what it is.

He kisses me tenderly, strokes my cheek with his soft, strong hand, and whispers, "goodbye for now, kitsune" into my ear, making me shiver.

I open my eyes, and he's gone.

Hey asshole, that's *my* trademark move!

Fucking dick. God.

******

It's 02:50-something, a few days later on the timeline. I'm drinking espresso in a dark green Nova (don't ask me where I got it) up the street from the strip club that's a couple blocks past the High Cap. Can't believe I never went in there back in the day--I dunno, something about it always gave me a bad feeling. Still does.

The blunt has reached its halfway point, and "No Tears" by Scarface is playing. Fuck, it's so hard not to crank up the volume and blast this song.

*"I got this killer up inside of me, I can't talk to my mother so I talk to my diary.

I think I'm going off the deep-end, I find myself face to face with myself when I'm sleepin'."*

I make a fist in the air. Fuck, so good! Whoops, put that down.

Let's see now, where the fuck is this guy, anyway? I've had this block staked out for hours, and I'm gonna need to take a piss soon. And where's my fucking space blow? Ugh. Day three no sleep is when I start to see some fraying around the edges of this facade I call "sanity" (ha.)

Something needs to happen soon. All these thoughts, memories, feelings, are playing on a reel over and over through my mind.

Andy...

God, why?

I dreamed about him for so many years. I don't know when I first saw him--in the earliest dream I can remember of him, I already knew him. It felt like I had always known him. He came to me when I was trapped in (the first of my rounds of) addiction and poverty, living in the part of the Town that people called "the Kill Zone." He was at the top of some stairs outside on a hill, on the other side of a door, looking at me through a little square hole. I knew he was the man I've just somehow known exists and that I love, ever since my earliest memories. I remember I felt happy to see him again. He told me not to give up, that things would get better one day, so have hope and believe.

So, I did. And things did get better.

I fell hopelessly in love with him. For years he visited my dreams somewhat frequently, and my obsession with him began to consume me. I was convinced he was real, and everywhere I went in the waking world I scanned the face of every man I saw, desperately hoping to find him. Like a worsening opium addict, I spent more and more time in bed, hoping each night he would come to see me again. In the mornings, I would wake up and cry because he wasn't there beside me.

I decided after too many miserable years that enough was enough, and I convinced myself he wasn't real. I was able to will myself to just stop dreaming altogether for some time.

My illusion of normalcy only lasted so long, of course.

Wait a second--what was that? I thought I saw a flash of that same ragged hat. But, he must have known that was me at the bar, he wouldn't wear it again, would he?

Maybe he's baiting me, then. Hold position.

I only met Andy once. I wasn't a Timefield Agent yet, I was still working my old restaurant gig. I'd just gotten dumped, and was rebound-fucking the company playboy. He kept telling me how much he thought his roommate and I would get along, but the dude was always at work--he was a nurse and worked long hours at a prison an hour away.

Finally, one day he was at home. I was in the kitchen, and he was in his bedroom. My coworker called me over to introduce us.

I still can hear him saying, "This is Andy."

The moment I looked at his face, I recognized him. And just like that, the false narrative I had crafted for myself--the convenient world where I just kind of used to be a bit of a schizo but I'm totally better now, so like, don't worry--all came crashing down in an instant. *No, you can't be real, because I'm not crazy!*

I panicked.

"Hi, nice to meet you," was all I ever said to him.

I turned around and damn near ran out that house, jumped on what my coworker called the "Cadillac of bicycles" (with the white-wall tires), and sped out of there into the rain like someone trying not to catch a case. I promptly crashed into a parked car.

That whole thing had me so spooked that I stopped going over there and wouldn't respond to my coworker's booty calls again. I guess I must have pushed it out of my mind in just a few hours, because I completely forgot that he was my dream friend, or that I ever had a dream friend at all, for the next two years. Andy's friends told me he started acting strange not too long after that, that he started having a hard time, and in less than a year he had burned most of his possessions, including his own artwork, gotten rid of his phone, and moved out of state. And somehow, the whole time while I was hearing from other people about what he was going through, I never remembered my dreams about him. At least, not until the end.

But ah, enough of the past. How about some juicy action?

Eyes locked on the raggedy hat, I remain completely still. My clenched fists are starting to shake ever so slightly.

Suppress emotion. Breathe evenly. Lower heartrate.

Let me get a look at your face, asshole. Come on.

The guy's heading into the alleyway across the street where I used to get high just like everybody else. I can still see him for now. What are you doing, dickhead?

I've been waiting for so long. Give me what I want tonight, Alexei. Come on.

There's only one woman out there tonight, and he goes straight to her. I wait. After a brief exchange they walk together out of sight. I can feel the energy in the air, and know it's time to slip out of the car and follow.

Fuck, he must be on one tonight! By the time I get them in my sights again, he's already dragging her behind a dumpster. I see her legs kicking uselessly before they disappear. Need to move fast.

Just as I'm about to be on him, something like a shadow moves in from the other direction, and a man in black appears as if he's just stepped out of the aether. It's the boy!

He moves in on Alexei. I rush in to block him and stop his blade with Wendy, a reappropriated cat's paw tool that Al and his merry crew of fucks had tried to kill *me* with. There's barely any room to spare between the blade and Al's face.

"No! You can't have him! He's mine!" I hiss, parrying his weapon back at him.

He disappears from my sight and reappears right next to me, blade already coming at Alexei again. Al evades, but loses his grasp on the woman and the bloody rag he had stuffed into her mouth. She spits it out and starts screaming.

The shadow boy's blade comes down right next to his head, and he rolls away, leaving the ugly hat behind. His wig is askew now.

"You're not getting away this time!" I scream, my voice thick with bloodlust and rage. I reach out for his throat, but he's quick, and I'm left with only the fake beard in hand. He pauses and we lock eyes. My fangs are out.