Alone in the Dark

My breath was soft, trembling, the only sound in the dark bedroom. Exhale. 'Relax.' I closed my eyes, fighting the paralysis that held me still. Another night, another waking nightmare. His eyes were on me, consuming me just as ravenously as if it were his lips dancing across my skin instead. How could I focus? His very existence was a distraction, as sweet and forbidden as Eden's own fruit.

'Relax, Sienna, breathe.'

How, though? Every muscle in my body was tense with a strange expectation. Tonight was different, I could feel it.

Ever since I was young I'd suffered from sleep paralysis, the strange state of semi-wakefulness where my body was still asleep, but my mind was stirring to consciousness. Psychiatrists and therapists alike had tried to help over the years, providing various sleep aids and meditations to counteract the nearly nightly occurrences, but they had always failed. Over the past five months, though, my usual struggles had begun to be accompanied by a ghost. A man, I thought, though I hadn't ever seen him fully. He had always simply stayed in the shadows, watching until I woke.

He was a sleep paralysis demon, my therapist had said. A common manifestation for people who struggled with sleep paralysis, but purely a figment of my own imagination.

My heart hammered, painful, and I was certain he could hear it in the silence of the room. I couldn't see him, only feel him, but I knew he was there. It's only a dream, I reminded myself, he isn't real. Even if he was, would I be frightened? He had never done anything to me, not yet.

Close your eyes, I ordered myself. If I closed my eyes and kept them closed, it normally allowed me to progress through the nightmare. But I couldn't. Wouldn't. If I looked away from the darkness, would he be gone again?

Part of me hoped not.

I tried to pull the sheet up over my body, to hide my nudity from the eyes in the darkness, but I could only sigh as my body still betrayed me. Not yet. How long until I woke from it this time? My sigh drew his attention, his eyes flicking in the darkness from my body to my face. I heated, realizing he had been observing my nudity while I slept.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice husky from sleep. Cobwebs clung to my thoughts. Silence was my response. I tried again, "What are you?" It felt as if only my mouth would cooperate within the dream, challenging him. It sounded weak in the emptiness of my room.

The shadows moved, and I saw him watching, only his eyes glowing from the depths of the corner he had chosen to hide. His were dark, black, but somehow, they were brighter than the shadows he hid himself in. Part man, part not. Was he a monster? Beast? Something else? How many nights had we repeated this game? How many more? I sensed his desire, his hunger, his loneliness.

I ached with it.

"Please," I whispered, trying to reach one hand towards the darkness. My fingers trembled at the effort, but I couldn't quite lift my arm. I wanted to cry aloud, but instead, I said, "I want to meet you." As I said it, I knew it was true. For so many months he had stood in the corner and watched as I slept, watching over me? Was it my desire that urged me to reach for him? Or was it his, somehow permeating my thoughts and body? I didn't know anymore. I just knew that I tired of it. The aching was exhausting, and I craved a release.

My declaration seemed to startle him. It was the first time I had tried to speak to him; before, I had simply lain in the darkness and waited for my body to finish waking. For a second the air seemed to grow heavy with intention, as if he were going to respond, then suddenly his dark eyes vanished from the shadows, and the room was empty aside from myself.

Surprise, then fear flooded through me.

"Wait!" I cried, trying to sit up, but the paralysis held me completely. The realization that I was still stuck in the dream made the terror grow. My attempts to wake failed; if anything, it felt as if the thin sheet I'd been wearing started to wrap itself around my waist, binding me tighter, constricting my movements even more than they'd already been. Panic surged as I realized the helplessness of my situation, unable to move, unable to fight back. Was it a dream? Reality? I didn't know anymore, I didn't care. "Please, don't leave me!"

I stopped thrashing, waiting. Silence, again. I held my breath, listening for a sound, anything to reveal that I wasn't alone. I didn't think he was gone, not entirely. I could still feel him nearby. Did he hold his breath, too, waiting to see what I said? Something was different tonight, a hovering aura to the darkness that held anticipation, but also anxiety. Mine and his both. "Please come back," I whispered, wetting my lips with my tongue, "I'm scared."

For a moment, nothing. I felt hesitation, then, the darkness melted away, revealing the nightmare that had haunted my dreams.

I gasped as he stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the full Halloween moon, illuminating himself for the first time since he had begun to stalk my dreams. He stood before me, his eyes shards of black glass within a shadowed face. A light tracing of oily black feathers covered his skin, looking like the plumage of a raven, though his body was that of a man's.

Two black horns bearing thin, delicate golden rings swept back over long, shoulder-length black hair. He was nude, aside from the light feathering that led down his chest to meet dark, scarred skin, and several pieces of gold jewelry. The eyes that regarded me were intelligent, and that seemed to linger on me with a hunger that I understood. I felt it.

He was handsome, in a carnal, semi-demonic sort of way.

"Who are you?" I repeated, my words soft, hanging between us. He was silent--had he ever spoken to me? Maybe whispers in the night while I slept, but his voice was alien to me while awake. I wanted to know, though, who was he? Why did he follow me? Every night, unfailing, he had come to me, but not to hurt. Only to observe. I felt it when he looked over me, a hungry possessiveness. He would let no pain come to me, not while I was under his watch.

Silence followed my question, then, "Damius." His voice rasped in the darkness. It stole through my body like a spirit, slipping into my blood and chilling it to ice. Like a crow's cry, but with a man's aching hurt laced through. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms in response. "I am Damius."

"Damius," I echoed, rolling the name across my tongue. I thought I saw a shiver sweep through him, and my body tensed in response. A muted hunger clawed within me, demanding to be sated. I closed my eyes. I wanted to reach for him, but he held me ensnared within our shared dream, my body unresponsive to my commands. So, I said, "I am Sienna."

His voice was a breath in the darkness, "I know." The words sparked fire in my core, the intimacy in the whispered phrase like lips on my skin. How much did he know? My eyes closed, Breathe, he is not real.

My eyes opened, and I saw that he was closer. I hadn't heard him move--had he? Or had he simply been there, the magic of whatever he was making movement unnecessary? He was still, unnaturally so, and I leaned towards the latter. I couldn't imagine him being hampered by the indignities of mortal limitations.

"Are you a demon?"

He flinched, as if the word was a projectile, and I regretted the question immediately. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he shook his head, silencing the words before they formed. I waited, but he didn't speak, didn't answer. Not right away. Instead, he stepped closer, and my breath hitched. It was loud, and he looked at me. I thought I saw a smile quirk his lips, but it was gone so quickly that it might have been just my imagination.

Standing beside my bed, his presence seemed almost familiar. How many evenings had he stood there while I had slept? Once the idea would have terrified me, but now it was a reassurance. The sheet that had been kicked aside in my restless sleep covered one leg and my hip, splayed haphazardly across the full-sized mattress, but most of me was bare before his blatant appraisal. I felt my skin heat in response to his hungry gaze, a flush flooding through me.

"I am a demon, as you know the term," he admitted, his voice rasping and harsh. I shivered at the word. Demon. What did that mean? Was he a minion of the Devil, as churches preached, and movies warned? Or a simple creature of the darkness, tied to no religion? His fingers traced delicately over my cheek, turning my head to meet his gaze. "Does that frighten you?"

I hesitated. "Yes," I said, finally, and he nodded, as if it had been the expected answer. I tempered it with an "a little," and I thought I saw that smile again. I worried for a moment that he would leave me for my honesty, but he didn't vanish again, and my anxiety lessened.

I wanted to ask what he meant about 'as I knew the term,' the question on my tongue, but his eyes met mine and he shook his head. I fell silent, but I determinedly decided that I would have my answer before the end of this interaction. If I remembered; it appeared as if Damius tired of simply speaking, his fingers brushing across my skin.

Our eyes met, and I could feel the question in his gaze. I couldn't move, but even if I could, I wouldn't want to. I had wanted this, craved this. I nodded, subtle, and his thumb grazed over my nipple. It hardened instantly, responding to the touch of the demon.

A soft whimper slipped from my lips as his forefinger and thumb pinched my nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers until I writhed with pleasure. I went to reach for him, my hand gripping his for a split second, his skin hot against mine. In that moment he faded into darkness, and I froze, his touch disappearing with his visage. My hand fell back to my side, empty. His shadowed form returned a moment later, reappearing from the darkness as if he had simply stepped through space. He saw the question in my eyes, and said, almost reproachfully, "I am here only in your dreams."

I didn't understand for a moment, but when I did, a soft, "Oh," made that smile return on his lips. The more I woke, the less strength he had. The more I tried to take control, the more I would wake from the dream we were wrapped in, and then he would vanish.

"Oh," he said, agreeing, cupping my breast entirely within his grasp. "You can move, enjoy yourself, but I decide what happens." He sounded amused as I gasped, shuddering at the rough but sensual touch of the demon. I wanted to reach for him, to pull him towards me, but I didn't. It was as if my newfound knowledge of the rules of our game had given him strength. I didn't dare try to touch him, didn't dare move. I didn't want to lose him again.

He circled me, moving from the side of the bed to the headboard. I watched him, curious. If I could not move, what would he do to me? It gave him all the power in our dreams, but only so long as I remained asleep. He could only go so far as I allowed him.

In a way, we had equal power.

It was impossible to ignore his lust for me--he had appeared in the room nude, and his desire was at eye-level as he moved towards my head. I licked my lips, mouth suddenly dry, though heat bloomed inside me. I ached for him. If it weren't for the paralysis I would reach for him, beckon him to me. I wanted him as badly as he wanted me, he had to see that.

Damius leaned over me, pressing a kiss to my jaw. His long, dark hair brushed against my skin; his lips soft as velvet against mine. Butterflies fluttered in my core, and I felt a pulse growing between my thighs. His hands were gentle as he guided my hips, parting my legs to expose my sex to his hungry gaze.

I wiggled to assist, glad that I could move some to help even if I couldn't take charge, and he chuckled in appreciation of my efforts. His lips found my nipple for a moment, and I moaned in pleasure at the brief blossoming of heat. His fingers slipped between my legs, delving into the warm wetness of my desire for just long enough to stoke the embers that had begun to smolder there.

His fingers were wet as they came away, and he pressed them against my lips. I licked at them hesitantly, which he seemed to enjoy, judging by the smirk that briefly slipped across his face. His fingers pushed deeper into my mouth, and my tongue lapped at the liquid desire that coated them--I didn't mind the taste, but it was the way his eyes darkened with pleasure that made my enthusiasm rise. He pulled away, but as he did so, he guided my head towards the edge of the bed, towards his hard length.

I knew what he wanted, but even still, he hesitated as the head of his arousal brushed against my lips. From where I lay on my back, he could easily slide himself into my throat and use me to satiate his own needs, and I could tell he wanted to. But his eyes found me, and I was warmed by the question in them. The hesitation.

My tongue lapped at the head of his cock, tracing the vein that twisted from the head down, and that was all the permission he needed.

His length slipped past my lips, and for a moment panic swelled as he pushed deeper into my mouth and throat, choking me. I grabbed his thighs, and I felt him slow in response. "Relax," he said, softly, repeating my inner mantra from before, and for a moment I resisted. His hips rocked, pressing deeper slowly, and I gagged, pushing back without thinking. My eyes clenched shut, a gasp wrenching from me as Damius pulled himself out of my mouth. His voice was gentle, "Look, Sienna."

My eyes opened, and I saw that he was starting to fade again. He didn't look angry, just worried. The room around us, was, too. My eyes widened, and I murmured, "I'm sorry, I didn't--"

He silenced me, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my lips. He smelled like spices, and earth. "If you don't want to continue, we don't have to," he said, and I could tell from the look in his eyes that he was genuine. If I told him to, he would stop. The feathers on his chest tickled me, and I smiled up at him. His dark gaze was so solemn, so alien, but I trusted his word.

I shook my head, certain. "No. Don't stop, Damius."

He shook his head and smiled slightly as he loomed back over me. My stomach flipped over in excited anticipation, and I gasped as his fingers slid into my mouth, rather than his cock. I tasted myself all over them, sweet and slightly tangy, and I looked up to see the heat in his gaze. My tongue swirled around his fingers, wetting them, and he pulled them out after another moment.

"Wha--," Damius's cock replaced his fingers, sliding back into my mouth and silencing the question, taking control in a way that he hadn't until that moment. I moaned, surprised, delighted. I didn't fight, and his visage darkened, solidifying, the dream re-establishing itself as I gave into him. "Much better," he murmured, and a flush of warmth filled me at the praise.

My question was answered soon enough, anyways.

I gasped around Damius's length as his fingers slipped between my legs and spread my mound, teasing my clit until I squirmed with need, and he used the distraction to slip deeper into my throat. I choked, but his reassuring hands kept me calm, and I heard his groan of approval as I didn't try to push him away. His fingers delved into my core, filling me with at first two, then three digits, his thumb rubbing soft circles around my clit. I worried that I was moving too much, that I would wake myself up soon, but his presence didn't waver as he continued to slide in and out of my mouth.

As long as I didn't try to stop him, it seemed as if he retained enough power to stay in our dream. And I didn't try to stop him, not one bit. His fingers thrust into me even as his arousal choked me, filling me with so much erotic stimuli that it was easy to forget that he was a demon, and I was his willing victim this Halloween evening. I felt the precipice looming and groaned, softly. His eyes met mine, our gazes holding one another still.

I came hard, his cock buried in my throat as the throes of ecstasy wracked my body. I watched his eyes as they shut, and I clenched my core around his fingers to allow him to feel the tremors as they hit me with wave after wave of pure, carnal pleasure. I wanted him to know what he did for me. What I wanted to do for him.

He pulled out of my mouth with a soft grunt, his eyes sharp as glass as he stared at me. His fingers were still in me, and I could feel a slight stir as he continued to tease my sex. My breaths were heavy, the climax having come hard and unexpected, but I could feel the hunger, thick and dense between us, and I licked my lips. I could still taste him.

He didn't ask the question, but he didn't need to. I wanted more. "Please, Damius," I said, biting my lips. My eyes went to his length, still hard and glistening with my saliva.

His eyes followed mine, and I heard him groan as he realized my intent. "Sienna," he murmured, and his tone held warning. I ignored him, reaching for him, and he wavered before me. His eyes widened in surprise at the lengths I was willing to go. I smiled coyly, and another groan echoed from him. He knew that arguing with me would only lead me to wake more and more as I tried to guide him, rather than the other way around.

Damius caved to my demands with a smile quirking his dark lips, and a glint in his obsidian eyes. I let out a slight gasp as he grabbed my hips and pulled me to the edge of the bed, his length probing at my slit before I was even fully moved into position. "Wait-," I tried to gasp, but he was tired of taking orders from me. He flipped me over, a move that was drastic enough that I felt the whole dream shudder and rock around us, before settling back into certainty after a moment's pause.

His hand gripped me firmly as he thrust into my sex with a grunt, holding me still as he slammed into me. I bucked, and he pushed me downwards into the bed, preventing me from rising again. I could only barely see his expression as he pushed my face downwards, silencing my orders and hindering my movements. The sound I let out was like a mewl, held still as he thrust into me, and he looked at me with such passionate desire that I nearly reached for him again.

Noting my intent, his free hand snared my wrists, pulling them over my head to take away my last remnants of control. His smile was feral as he looked down at me, and the fire that raced through my veins was only fanned higher by the power he held over me. I trusted him, for some reason.

His thrusts were hard, claiming, and I gasped each time he pulled out, only to slam back into me. Stubbornly, I lifted my hips to meet his, refusing to allow him the pleasure of doing all the work. He grinned at me, though again he wavered, the challenge seeming to spur passion in him. He pinned me beneath his weight, grinding himself deeper within my sex, and I moaned, biting the sheet to silence myself. My fingers clutched at the hand that held them bound. The night was silent aside from the shuddering gasps of pleasure that slipped from him, my whimpers of pleasure, and the sound of our bodies meeting.

He came, pushing me down into the bed with such force that I let out a slight cry, though I didn't want him to stop. I loved it, loved the pain as he let go of the final strands of control he'd been clinging to since the encounter had begun.

I followed suit a moment later, clenching my core around him to stir my second climax. He groaned as he felt me spasm in his arms, turning me over and pulling me against his chest so that I could ride out the orgasm. I buried my face against the heated flesh of his chest and feathers, distantly amused by how odd we must have looked. I felt his fingers run through my hair as I slowly stilled, heart hammering. I felt somewhat drowsy and realized with sudden dread what that meant. I would wake soon.