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The Dream

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Victor had never been an avid dreamer. The dreams he did remember were usually vivid nightmares, and he only got those when he was extremely stressed. Most of the time, after waking, Victor could recall a small detail about a mundane dream, and that small detail would be gone by noon. 

The dream Victor currently felt himself immersed in felt more vivid than even his most terrifying nightmares. He was naked and in his own bed, which wasn’t surprising in itself, since he occasionally slept in the nude during the summer months. 

Two details indicated that this wasn’t a dream: for one, he was currently on a business trip.

Secondly, there was a warm, female body pressed against his chest, and she writhes against him. Her skin is smooth and silky.

“Victor..please.” she moans against his neck. Victor freezes. He knows that voice. It’s her. His idiot. A ghost of a smile graces his lips.

“Please….what, MC?” he murmurs softly against her ear, allowing his lips to graze the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver. His dream MC is a sensitive little thing. 

“I-I need you….” she whimpers as he trails a hand softly down her bare back. 

“Idiot….You always have me.” He kisses the top of her head as he relishes the feeling of her skin against his own. 

“N-no. I mean…” She grabs his hand and presses it against her sex. A bold move for his little idiot. He smiles against her hair. 

“Hm. I see.” Victor tilts MC’s face up engage her in a passionate kiss. He allows a finger to briefly slide into her heat. She was a furnace. And she was his. 

He breaks the kiss and rolls on top of her. He spreads her legs, tangling them with his own, and sinks himself inside. MC gasps and it’s the most erotic noise he’s ever heard. He begins to move and–

The phone rings.

Victor’s eyes angrily fly open. They dart to the clock. 2am. Who thefuck is calling at 2am?  

  He checks the caller ID. It’s her. Of course it’s her.