I remember the dream as if it were etched into my mind in brutal detail, a memory that resurfaced once I was alone in my small, freshly half painted room when sleep finally took over, and suddenly, I was back in that unsettling moment.
I found myself standing on the outskirts of a full moonlit field with an array of light blue, the land stretching into darkness. That's when I saw him, a man whose presence both pulled me toward him and sent a shiver of dread down my spine.
I recall his voice, low and commanding, yet laced with tenderness as he stepped from the shadows. "I've been waiting for you," he murmured. There was an undeniable thrill in the way he spoke, a promise of something forbidden. As his hand brushed against my cheek, I felt a spark of desire, a fleeting connection that almost made me forget the risk of allowing anyone close to me. For a long moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of us, our breaths mingling in the cool night air and his warm embrace comforted me yet again.
But then the atmosphere shifted in an instant. What had started as a slow, deliberate caress turned abruptly rough. I felt his grip tighten, and the gentleness dissolved into something far more aggressive. His kisses, once soft and exploratory, turned forceful, leaving me feeling confused as I could feel the sudden surge of adrenaline mixed with an almost paralyzing terror rush to my head.
I tried to pull my arms away that were wrapped around his waist to get away from him when he spoke. His tone flipped, a command this time, underscored by a raw intensity that left little room for negotiation. "Don't fight this," he said, his expression dark and unyielding. In that moment, my heart pounded so hard I almost couldn't think. What the fuck is happening?!
Despite the surge of terror, something else stirred inside me, a confused cocktail of desire and repulsion. I was caught in a struggle, not just against him, but within myself. Every instinct screamed to pull away, yet a part of me was inexplicably drawn into the dangerous game he was playing, but what game was that?
Before I could find the words to ask, he leaned in close, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. "Don't be afraid," he said, his tone both commanding and strangely inviting. "This isn't about control or pain; it's about uncovering what you've locked away. Every touch, every word is a challenge, a dare to let go of your defenses." His gaze bore into me as if he could see right through the barriers I'd built around my heart.
I struggled to steady my racing thoughts, feeling like I was going to faint in any given second.
"What do you want from me?" I managed to whisper but the question thickened with fear.
A slight, dangerous smile curled on his lips as he replied, "I want you to stop fighting for yourself. This game is not a battle, it's a test. A test of your strength, your willingness to risk everything in order to truly feel. I'm not here just to take darling, I'm here to show you that just sometimes, letting go of control can make you discover something real."
Even as his words dripped with a promise of forbidden truth, I felt the edges of my mind blur the line between pain and pleasure. His next words came out in a hushed deep voice, "Every time you hold on too tight, you lose a little more of the life you're meant to experience. The game, this dangerous dance, is about daring to be vulnerable, about finding freedom in your own honest surrender."
In that surreal moment, suspended between terror and a desperate longing to understand him-and perhaps myself-I couldn't tell where the threat ended, and the temptation began.
When I awoke, the remnants of that nightmare clung to me. I sat in silence for a long time, while trying to make sense of the memory. The stark shift from arousal to fear, from tenderness to rough insistence, left me shaken. I couldn't help but wonder if that dream was a manifestation of buried desires or a warning from a small part of me, I'd long tried to keep under control. Even now, as I piece together fragments of that night, I'm left with more questions than answers.
Who was he? Was he real or just a specter born from my own conflicted mind? And where the fuck did that come from?
I lifted myself into a sitting position on the bed, noticing it was just sunsetting outside my bedroom window. I looked over to my side and swore silently under my breath that i had forgotten to take my medication pills that I left out this morning to remind myself to take.
I reached over and snatched the pills off the bed counter and swallowed them dryly, with little saliva left in my dry mouth to save my soul from that attempt. With a resigned sigh and a rough cough, I brace myself for the slow return to reality, one obscured by the accident on the force that wiped away so much of who I used to be.
Still groggy, I step out onto my balcony. The cool air hits me, snapping fragments of that dream into focus, his presence, his dark grey eyes, the dangerous allure that once blurred the line between control and chaos. As I scan the quiet outskirts of my property, my vision lands a figure at the distant border of my fence, a flicker just beyond the familiar garden fairy lights.
For a single heartbeat, I swear it was him, the man from my dreams, standing as though waiting for me. But when I strain to see him clearly, he dissolves into the blur of the sunset shadows.
My heart jerks with inexplicable recognition mingled with trepidation. The scene leaves me questioning everything-was it nothing more than the ghost of my troubled sleep, or is the past clawing its way back into view?
I shake my head, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling, yet the mysterious figure lingers in my thoughts like an unwelcome promise of something dangerous and long forgotten...but far away from my worn-out balcony and the tangled maze of my memories stands a silent watcher.
*His Pov*
Leaning against the Australian ghost gum trees, my eyes fixed on the horizon where she lives now, oblivious to the truth of our past. I remember her, every detail engraved in my mind as if it were yesterday.
It has been years since I last saw her smile, since I last touched her skin, when we shared moments that defied the ordinary and burned with an intensity that was as thrilling as it was forbidden.
I was once the man who knew every secret bend of her soul, who reveled in both her strength and her fragility. But fate, in its cruel twist, intervened... mostly my fault, to include fear in her fragile mind.
An accident robbed her of those memories of us. Now, she moves through life like a stranger, her eyes searching in vain for something she doesn't know what she's lost. Each time I glimpse her silhouette at the edge of my vision, my heart aches with both longing and bitter resignation.
Standing in the shadows, I still remember the warmth of her laughter and the way she used to meet the world with fearless determination. I recall the brief moments when I dared to believe that our passion, no matter how reckless, could defy the wreckage of our past. And now, here she is again, back on my radar, though her mind is untouched by the history that still burns within me.
I watch her from afar, caught between the desire to reach out and the painful truth that she no longer recognizes the man who once meant everything to her, who was going to wife her one day. All fucking wasted
There's a desperate irony in it all: she returns as if to reclaim what was lost, yet every inch of her is unmarked by the memories of our shared history. The accident left her a blank slate, a fresh start that has inexplicably erased the deep, dangerous connection we once savored. I linger on the edge of anonymity and torn between the urge to reclaim what we had and the fear of shattering the fragile new life she's built.
I wonder if, beneath the calm surface of her waking gaze, she feels a pull, a half-forgotten echo of the passion that once united us.
I retreat into the familiar embrace of darkness, watching as she slowly turns away from the spot where I was visible. My heart whispers a silent promise that no matter how much time passes or what fate may decide once again, I will always remain the keeper of our past.
A past that, though missing from her mind, lingers in every subtle glance, every tremor of emotion that crosses her face when she thinks she's alone.
And so, I faded back into the shadows, leaving her to an uncertain storm brewing in the distance of the sunset, I smiled knowingly... because I know she loves storms because I know that every crack of thunder recalled the raw, forbidden passion we once shared.