Tikbalang Sleepless in Manila Ch. 01

A/N: It's been a long while since I've been able to get back to my Tikbalang stories. Here's the first chapter of the third novel in my series. I do hope you enjoy it, and I would really appreciate your feedback. Hopefully I can get back into my writing groove and be able to post more chapters soon.

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"Then wake up to a brand new day to find your dreams have washed away." ~ Inxs, Original Sin

"First Lt. Habagat Bagyo Batumbakal, Philippine Air Force, 26. Assigned to the Western Mindanao Command. Interesting."

The disembodied female voice above Habagat was disturbing his dream. It was a helluva nice dream, too. He didn't want to wake up from it just yet. The voice called him close to wakefulness as it addressed someone named Nurse Ogie, amid the flipping of paper. He didn't listen to the other words because, well, pretty girls who wanted to make the beast with two backs with him in a dream were way more interesting, especially when the dream girl was pin-up perfect and was down to fuck.

The heavy bass from the Inxs' song Original Sin played the perfect soundtrack to his dream, but it was fading under the mellifluous but businesslike voice of the woman speaking to Nurse Ogie in slightly hushed tones, as if she was trying to be considerate of him while doing her job. They were discussing his vitals, heart rate, pulse rate. Boring stuff.

Fuck it. Back to the dream. Naked girls are much more fun than reality, especially if they're naked and hot for me. He rolled over to his right so he could go back to sleep and get back to the pin-up girl clad only in a thick mane of black, shoulder-length curls, flawless tanned skin, and a wicked grin. She was beckoning to him with a teasing index finger and hot, dark eyes that were heavy-lidded with promise and ringed with long, thick lashes. Mmmm, yes, sweet thing, I'm there. I am so there.

His roll's momentum was cut short, however. There were restraints at his wrists and feet and he felt the scratchy and thin cotton hospital gown against his bare skin. He also felt a cool hand touch his forehead and would have jack-knifed had the restraints permitted, which they did not.

"Our patient has a slight fever, I think. Nurse Ogie, please take his temperature again," the soft, feminine alto brought Habagat fully back to consciousness and he opened his eyes, focusing on the view from his vantage point: One lovely pair of double-Ds covered in a white lab coat over a red blouse. The woman was standing right beside his head, and a metal clipboard hid her face from view. Not that Habagat was complaining about the view.

Her hands were long-fingered and finely made, tipped with neat, short nails and with no rings on them. Aha, she's single Part of the nameplate embroidered on her lab coat was visible: Her surname, he read, was Salamanca. Magic lady, Habagat thought. Please let her be pretty.

Bewbz. Habagat blinked as he looked up at her fabric-covered breasts again in appreciation, then drew in a deep breath preparatory to asking the question: What the ever-living fuck is going on? Yes, he could multi-task. You don't learn how to fly aircraft without knowing that.

On the inhale, he smelled the doctor (or at least he presumed she was a doctor). Under the antiseptic smell of the hospital room, and the rubbing alcohol she'd no doubt doused her hands in was the sweetness of Arabian jasmine, locally known as sampaguita, and a slightly spicy, kind of earthy scent that just had to be her skin and probably the soap she'd used. She sure smells pretty. He remembered that scent from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it.

"So, doc, will I live?" Habagat's query came out hoarse, rather sarcastic and was accompanied by the rattling of the metal bedframe he'd clasped and shaken. "And what the hell am I doing here? And where in the name of all that is holy is 'here'?"

The clipboard came down almost to his forehead before the pretty, long-fingered hands stopped its descent.

"You're awake, Mr. Batumbakal." The medic's voice was slightly startled, but it sounded like she was regaining her composure as she continued speaking to him. "Good morning. I am Dr. Salamanca and you are at the National Center for Mental Health. According to your chart, you were brought here late last night while you were suffering from seizures and hallucinations. The admitting staff had to sedate you."

Dr. Salamanca's face was a perfect oval, and the smoothness of her naturally tan complexion and high cheekbones were cast into prominence by the severe black bun her hair was strangled in, Habagat noted. Her eyes were a brown so dark they were almost black, and they were surrounded by long, thick lashes that swept up almost to the neat wings of her strong eyebrows. Like the eyes of that pin-up girl in his dream.

She wasn't just pretty. Her face was pure enchantment. The kind mortals would die for. I'm a mortal! I'm a mortal! Well, he was still mortal. Until someone was able to tame him, that is. But enough of that, look at that beauty standing above me, he thought. I wouldn't mind being in restraints and naked if this were sex. That would sure be fun...

Habagat's eyes roved over her face, taking note of her lush mouth and the smoothness of her neck. This was a young doctor, maybe about his age. Perhaps she was an intern, or starting her residency. Wait... what did she mean he was in a mental hospital?

He struggled against his restraints, asking the question out loud in a less than calm tone of voice and the doctor looked over his head, presumably at Nurse Ogie. Habagat felt a strong pair of masculine hands hold his left arm firmly against the bed and pillow under him, then the prick of a needle entering the muscle of a bicep. He also found that he had to fight to keep his eyes open as his struggles slowed to a stop despite his mind ordering his body to keep flailing until he could get loose.

"I am sorry to sedate you," Dr. Salamanca's voice sounded far away, and vaguely like the voice of his pin-up girl, from that dream he'd been having. "Rest for now. I'll be back in a few hours to see if you're less agitated and, if you are, we can talk then."

***

In the space between sleep and waking, Habagat's memory of the time before waking up in the mental hospital played like a movie in his mind.

The roar of blades from the OV-10's turboprop rotors was a comforting sound to Habagat's ears. He was held aloft in his cradle of steel, doing a low hover over the thick jungle cover limning the edges of the Limpapa Bridge, some 40 kilometers from Zamboanga City and close to the coastline of the Zamboanga peninsula. The bright morning sun and blue sky were reflected in his helmet's visor. This is such a beautiful place. Too bad there are enemies in them there woods.

The bandits below could probably hear him, sure, but they wouldn't hear the Scout Rangers he was providing air support for. Plus he could drop ordnance close enough to the soldiers he was supporting if that became necessary—this aircraft was good for that. But he hoped he didn't have to. His mission on this flight was for support and medevac, and he prayed to the Old Gods that was all it would be.

"Tikbalang calling in, we have targets in sight, over," Habagat smiled at the call sign he'd been given when he'd begun to fly the actual aircraft to support ground troops. "I'm keeping track of them from up here."

He'd gotten that moniker because he was taller than your average military flyboy and because he actually did like running and, when athletic competitions beckoned in his branch of the service, or across the Armed Forces of the Philippines, he usually won the track events hands down. If they only knew. He chuckled to himself as he surveyed the movements of the bandits he was tracking, reporting them back over the radio.

The Scout Rangers had tracked the bandits to a makeshift camp in the rough terrain and dense jungle—something this specialized unit of the Philippine Army was justifiably proud of.

Six hostages of varying nationalities needed rescuing, and soon. Those unfortunate people were kidnapped off a small coastal resort just outside the city, and had been held captive for nearly seven weeks.

Military intelligence had gathered information about the bandits and their captives from locals who'd informed them that two of the hostages seemed ill, while the bandits, the locals said, were running low on supplies and were making forays into small communities to buy, bully away, or outright steal food and medicine under the cover of darkness. The rescue had to go down flawlessly or those bandits would begin killing their captives, and possibly bring a running gunbattle to the nearby communities.

Now or never, dudes. Habagat cheered the ground troops on silently, hoping they reached the target area he was sweeping, along with some special foreign military personnel who were not officially supposed to be in on the operation. He'd spotted one of the hostages in a small clearing below, a Caucasian woman whose light brown hair was matted and whose skin was marked with bruises and bloody cuts, and sunburnt a painful shade of red. She was attempting to signal to his aircraft with a bright yellow piece of cloth when one of the bandits noticed her, and she was dragged off and dropped into some sort of pit.

Habagat flew off, hoping to mislead the criminals below into thinking his plane was just another cloud seeding aircraft come to bring rain in the dry months of summer. Then he doubled back and hovered a bit higher over the target area.

By the time Habagat managed to maneuver back, the rescuers had reached the periphery of the extraction point for the hostages when he'd radioed that the captives were being kept in pits about three meters apart.

Two teams went in from different approaches: One was the actual rescue team, which went in swiftly and silently. The other team was positioned on a small rise, guns trained on the bandits who were walking about the camp, or cooking what looked like root crops over the embers of a banked fire, still unaware of the impending invasion of their patch of jungle.

This rescue went blessedly well, under the circumstances: Team One found the palm frond-covered pits Habagat had pinpointed and lain belly down, guns at the ready, while Team Two opened fire from their vantage point and all hell broke loose, with bandits scrambling for weapons and screaming bloody murder.

Of the dozen or so outlaws, four were cut down by Team Two's snipers, and another six were neutralized by Team One as it stood guard over the hostages in the pits. A back-up team of Light Reaction Unit (LRU) personnel from the Philippine National Police provided fire support and handcuffs for arresting the surviving members of the bandit group.

Satisfied that the soldiers he was supporting were not seriously injured, he found a clear enough place to land so he could commence with the medevac part of his mission, flew the hostages and a couple of injured soldiers back to the Edwin Andrews Airbase.

Out of his plane and done for the day, Habagat was told to report back for a mission debriefing the next day. He'd missed lunch, and headed over to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat.

The fish and turmeric stew with a spicy black coconut and chili dipping sauce on the side was memorable, sure. But Habagat had no idea that this would be the last thing he remembered before opening his eyes in NCMH. How the hell was he supposed to attend his mandatory mission debriefing if he was over 1,300 kilometers away from where he was to be debriefed?

***

Habagat was frustrated over his unanswered questions, so he slipped back into the dream instead. Better to have a wet dream than to get stressed over something he had no control over, he reasoned. At least the sex dream wouldn't be as frustrating.

"So, where were we, my delicious girl?" He was shucking a pair of black denim jeans down and off his well-muscled butt so he could kick them to the floor beside the white shirt he'd already pulled off the well-defined muscles of his torso.

Wordlessly, the girl moved to push him up against a brick wall near the side of the bed she'd been sitting on. She pulled his head down to hers and took his lips in a kiss that demanded silence from his mouth, her slim fingers massaging his scalp and nape while her tongue teased his.

"Less talk, more sex," her sultry alto filled his ear with a warm invitation, and she nipped lightly at his earlobe and left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck, kisses that trailed carnally lower, creating a hot path over the dip between his pectoral muscles, the divide between his abdominals and trailed from side to side over his Apollo's belt.

Habagat had completely lost track of the downward progress of his jeans, so she hooked her hands over the waistband and continued where he left off. She was shucking him and trailing small, light bites and kisses down each inch of skin she bared as he lifted his feet to help her strip him, and his head fell back against the wall as he struggled to breathe. His erection was so hard it pointed to the ceiling, and he could feel his heartbeat echoed by the pulsing in his tightly-drawn balls.

He looked down in time to see her smile up at him with glittering eyes the color of jet. Her hands came up to stroke his thighs and she leaned, flicking her tongue teasingly at his navel. Habagat thrust his hands slowly into the softly fragrant dark curls of her hair.

"Baby, I would give anything to be in you right now," he pleaded on a gasp. The woman at his feet was breathtakingly beautiful, a goddess on her knees with a wickedly sexy confidence that pushed him higher. "Tell me your name, please."

"Call me Dani," she said, with a tinge of amusement in the purr that was her voice.

"Dani..." The name tasted delicious on his tongue as he spoke it, ending on a gasp when she took firm grasp of his tarugo in one hand and caressed his sac lightly with the other. "Fuck, yes. Oh, fuck, YES!"

Habagat's body coiled like a wound spring and he was lost to incoherence when Dani took long, slow licks up his cock, wetting it well before wrapping her mouth around the glans, sucking lightly and licking at its weeping slit. Her hands began to work the shaft and his balls so expertly his hands clutched at her hair and he had to gasp deep breaths in so he wouldn't pull too hard.

Dani's eyes met Habagat's when he was finally able to pry his eyelids open and he saw the satisfaction in his lover's gaze as she pulled her cheeks in to deepen the suction and prompt his hips to buck back and forth. She took him deeper, down to her throat and swallowed, and it was all Habagat could do to remain upright while he roared his release and watched her swallow every drop, then lick her full rosebud lips.

Habagat managed to stagger to the bed, his ari, still hard despite the strength of his orgasm. His breathing was ragged, but he still had the strength to pull her with him to the bed and she landed astride his legs, laughing.

"Is that all for me?" Her hand reached down between them, stroking his tool with gentle fingers. "You said you'd do anything to get in me?"

"Anything." Habagat affirmed, rolling her under him and to the center of the bed. Bearing his weight on his arms and knees, he gave her the same treatment she'd given him up against the wall: He trailed nipping kisses from her ears down to her chest, pausing to lick and suck at her turgid nipples and draw some very satisfying shudders and gasps from Dani.

"All right then, big boy," she huffed on whatever air was available to her, "I've been dying for good cunnilingus for a while now." She rubbed long, smooth legs against Habagat's, slinking them up to his hips and locking her ankles against the small of his back. "Dinner is served, and it is hot for you. Bon apetit!"

He kissed her again, owning her mouth with his until he felt her puki grow even hotter and wetter against the gentle rubbing of his hips and tarugo against her legs and center.

Never gainsay a woman, he thought in a fog of pheromones and arousal, give her what she's asking for, because wet, hot puki is definitely a menu favorite. So he made a happy trail of taste and touch down Dani's body, drawing delighted shivers and moans from this literal girl of his dreams. Down until he got to her pussy and began to feast slowly, licking her bare mons, opening her labia slowly with his thumbs before tasting her with lips and tongue, teasing her slowly until she was as incoherent with raw sexual energy as he was.

Her hands slid into his short-cropped hair, pulling his head closer to where she needed him, her hips bucking up so the tangy musk of her was right in his nose, right on his clit-seeking lips and she screamed his name.

Habagat wasn't about to stop just because Dani was coming all over his face. He plunged his tongue in deep while he thumbed gentle circles around the tip of her very stiff clit and held her gloriously full ass aloft so he could eat his fill of her pussy. Then he switched to sucking on the clit now uncovered by its modest hood while he slid one, then two fingers into her, curling them against her g-spot and pumping them steadily in and out of her while she came again.

Dani reached for his shoulders, and Habagat took her upward tugs as a signal that he should move back up her body. She spread her legs wider, making a cradle for his hips as he slid his sweat-sheened body up her, dragging his chest and loins against her in sweet sexual friction.

"Fuck me, Habagat, don't make me wait."

He didn't have the breath to speak and his heart was racing like he was in an ironman race, so he answered with a slow, deep thrust home into her hot sheath, hoping to steal her breath the way she'd stolen his.

His name was a chant, a prayer on her lips, a crescendo of pleasure that ended in broken sounds and sobs of ecstasy while he upped his pace.

Watching her go into gorgeous paroxysms of pleasure as he thrust harder and faster made him want more, so he swiveled his hips to stimulate her sensitive clit with each thrust in and she wailed, raking her short nails down his back as she exploded right along with him.

Both of them blacked out, were blissed out, and Habagat was grateful for the sweetest respite he'd ever had in a dream. Even if Dani looked and smelled just like his tormentor, Dr. Salamanca.

***

Dr. Daniela Salamanca sat at her desk in her cramped little clinic at the NCMH. She'd just left her new patient, who'd been restrained to his bed in one of the hospital's a private wards.

She'd done her best to ignore the fact that her new patient was a gorgeous example of the male of the species: A tall man, at six feet and three inches, corded with muscle everywhere she could see (and she could see a lot, since hospital gowns his nothing under their silly patterns)—and he was obviously well hung, even if his equipment was at rest. He had just a hint of curl in his black, crewcut hair that was shot through with streaks of brown and gold. His face would put male models to shame—and female supermodels, too. Her patient had the most unusual eyes: They were a blend of chocolate brown and hazel, with green and gold flecks. He must have quite a bit of Spanish blood in him, which is rather unusual nowadays, she mused.

Dani wasn't a short woman, at five foot eight, but Mr. Batumbakal managed to make her feel petite, even while lying flat on his back and restrained to a hospital bed.

She shook her head to clear it of inappropriate thoughts, again. Thank goodness they make molded bras, she thought, it wouldn't do to have my nipples poking the patient in the eye because I find him so hot. Habagat Batumbakal had the kind of animal appeal most rock stars did: Dani would be unsurprised if the female nursing staff threw wet panties his way. Heck, even the prim and proper Nurse Ogie looked ready to eat him up—and that male nurse liked women, his vanities notwithstanding.