Target Fantasy

I close the door and pull my hunting knife from its sheath. I know he doesn't sleep well, so I am careful to be silent as I creep up the stairs. I pause and recall his penchant for chaos, knowing that I must be careful of randomly strewn obstacles on the pathway to the bedroom.

I listen for a while, until deep breathing interspersed with muttering confirms that he is indeed asleep. As my eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, I pick my way across the floor, avoiding shoes, pizza boxes and a - skateboard?

I reach the doorway to the bedroom without incident and lean against the doorframe, playing with my knife and watching. The moonlight streams through the blinds, bathing his face and chest in its nocturnal glow.

The duvet is pushed down to his waist, tangled around his legs, one arm is thrown above him as is if reaching for something, and his handsome face is twisted with anguish in his restless sleep.

He dreams of her still.

My heart goes out to him, and I wish that she would let him go, wish that he could let her go. But theirs was a love of mind, body and soul, a love that knew no bounds. Perhaps, after all, I would be doing him a favour by sending him on to be with her. He moans and calls her name, not in passion, but grief, broken and mournful.

I don't know if I can do this.

I put my knife away, wanting to offer him comfort as I have done in the past, convincing myself that when he's smiling again, the ice that surrounds my heart will allow me to complete my mission.

I pad over to the bed, and sit gently on its edge. He mutters inaudibly and I reach down, melting inside as I run my finger lightly over his strong jaw, brushing his high cheekbone with my thumb.

His eyes fly open, blue flames glimpsed in the moonlight before I find myself flying, to land face up on the bed as he straddles my hips, holding my hands securely above my head.

He looks at me in surprise, blinking sleep from his eyes, then breaks into a grin as he recognises me. I flutter my eyelashes, and deliberately lick my lips, inviting.

He leans back, letting my hands go and I buck, throwing my legs up in an effort to get him in a headlock. But he throws himself forward, his face a bare inch from mine, restraining my hands once more, leaving me to flail uselessly beneath him, as he studies me. Then leans in to kiss me.

It is not a kiss of love; he knows I cannot love; I know he will not love, but a kiss of passion, of two souls too long without the warmth of human contact.

His lips slide over mine, tongue demanding entrance. I allow it, challenging him, exploring him as he explores me, a match of equals. He tastes of mint toothpaste, a cool contrast to the heat building between us.

My eyes close involuntarily at the depth of the sensations flooding through me, the pressure of his magnificent body stretched out against mine starting little waves of pleasure rippling out from my very core. But it is not in my nature to allow any man the upper hand for long so I open my eyes, oddly disturbed to find his only centimetres away, staring straight at me, into me, as if searching out my soul. His pupils flare darkly in their bright blue surround as our kiss deepens and his grip on my hands lessens enough for me to wrest them free, using my body weight to flip him over onto his back so I can plant myself astride him, hands resting on the firm broad expanse of his chest to press him back against the bed.

He seems to hold his breath, observing me cautiously as I reach to the back of my belt where he knows from past experience I carry my knife, and I smile knowingly as I pull it from its sheath. Holding his gaze with mine so there can be no misunderstanding, I toss my weapon across the room towards the doorway, seeing his eyes widen at the move. With a small nod, he reaches slowly back under the pillow beneath his head to withdraw the Smith & Wesson I know he habitually keeps there while he sleeps. A wry grin pulls briefly at his lips, still wet and glistening from their recent close contact with mine, as he leans to place it on the floor and slide it in the same direction.

He raises his left eyebrow in a silent query, and seeing nothing to deter him in my face he brings both hands up to my waist, tugging gently but insistently at my black jumper to free it from my jeans. I can feel the heat rising from him where my thighs grip his hips, heat that is rapidly reciprocated in me as his fingers slide clandestinely under the thin wool to glide across my naked flesh, moving oh so nimbly up over my ribcage to rub lingeringly across the upper slopes of my breasts before gripping the bunched fabric and pulling the garment off over my head.

My skin cries out for his touch again, and I lean forward to mould myself against him, seeking out his lips with mine, running my hands up his sides to knead at the muscles of his shoulders, revelling in the power I can sense there, coiled spring-like awaiting the right moment to erupt. His fingers drift their way up my spine, finding and releasing the catch of my bra, sliding the flimsy straps away and down my arms, playing like fire across the full width and length of my back as he pulls me closer, only breaking the kiss to bring his lips down to my neck, sucking, licking, nibbling, driving me to an ecstasy of delight. I feel his hands move down to cup my buttocks, pressing me flat against his hardness, hips starting to move unconsciously in a rhythm as old as time.

An idea suddenly occurs to me, bringing with it a gurgle of anticipatory pleasure I can barely contain, and with an effort I pull away from him, laughing softly at the bemused look on his face. I lean forward again to whisper in his ear, asking him if he trusts me. His expression changes to one of amused disbelief but I persist, reminding him of our past encounters, assuring him that, whatever our differences, here and now I only have his best interests at heart.

He watches me speculatively as I rise slowly from the bed, shivering at the loss of contact with his warmth, running my eyes appreciatively along his body and seeing the clear evidence of his arousal beneath the shrouding folds of his black pyjama bottoms as I reach into the pouch clipped to my belt to pull out the handcuffs I keep there, a relic of a long past occupation. An flash of shocked anticipation leaps into his eyes as I lean over him to coax his hands above his head, but I silence his protest by capturing his lips with mine again, and his resistance fades as my bare flesh rubs intimately against his chest. We are both breathing heavily by the time I fasten the second cuff to his wrist, leaving him looking vulnerable and ever so slightly anxious as I drop the keys onto the bedside table.

With a lascivious smile I rise again to loosen my belt and undo my jeans, unlacing and stepping out of my trainers as I shed them to stand proudly before him in just my panties. I blow him a kiss before leaving him momentarily to investigate the contents of his freezer, finding as I'd hoped, based on memories of past conversations, the small tub of my favourite brand of ice cream lurking in its frosty depths. I dump it into the microwave for a few seconds to soften the contents, then lifting a spoon from the draining board I head back to my captive.

He eyes me apprehensively as I approach, forehead wrinkling as he tries to work out my intentions. Climbing back onto the bed, I throw one leg across his hips again, hearing his sharp intake of breath as I settle myself onto him, feeling his hips bucking in involuntary reaction to rub himself against me. Concentrating furiously I pull the lid from the container and dig into the cool but still liquidly sticky mass within, leaning forward to drip a pool of it into the hollow of his throat. He gasps with surprise at the coldness, eyes staring into mine as I slowly and deliberately dribble a generous line down his chest and across his ribs, past his belly button and on over his flat stomach to the point where his flesh becomes hidden from me by the black fabric.

Putting the tub aside, I raise myself on both hands to kiss him deeply again, before dragging my tongue slowly along the stubbled roughness of his jawline and down his neck to pick up the start of my self-laid trail. With infinite care and lingering pleasure I lap at the stickiness nestling at his throat, feeling him stiffen beneath me and start to strain slightly at his bonds. Laughing low in my throat, which only seems to add to the effect I am having on him, I continue my leisurely journey downwards, almost purring with contentment at the twin delights of good ice cream allied to the smooth softness and unmistakably masculine scent and taste of his skin. Occasional detours to investigate and sample other aspects of the fascinating scenery laid out before me only enhances the pleasure.

By the time I reach the sensitive region below his waist I can tell from the way his body is arching towards me, his strangled groans and the sweat breaking out on him that he is close to the edge. I raise my head to gaze up at him, asking innocently if he isn't enjoying himself. Through clenched teeth he assures me that, as I damn well know, he's enjoying himself just fine and I know he's too proud to ask me to release him, but with my own breath coming in lust-fuelled gasps and my pulse racing, I'm not sure I can last much longer anyway. Like a thief in the night, I sneak a final nibble at the warm flesh of his belly just under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, then sighing heavily I reach for the keys.

I only have time to undo one of the cuffs before he brings both arms down to grasp me tightly, turning me effortlessly to press his weight down on top of me, and it is his turn to hold me captive again, an impatient thigh pushing its way between mine, hands probing, seeking out my most secret places as he crushes my mouth beneath his. I can feel the undeniable strength of him quivering with need against me, and I run my hands down the contours of his body to grip the tight firmness of his butt, hooking my legs around the back of his, wanting him as close as humanly possible. We part briefly by mutual consent to strip away our remaining clothing before resuming our exploration, touching, kissing, murmuring encouragement, hips moving in harmony as our bodies fit fluidly together, driving each other on to greater heights until we are helpless to prevent the inevitable.

The release, when it comes, is sweeter and more powerful than anything I have experienced before, and warm tears sting my eyes as I clasp him to me, feeling his heartbeat pounding in time to mine, hearing his ragged breathing calming slowly. Time stands still, floating me away on a satiated cloud, and for the first time in many months I am at peace...

I wake with a start, momentarily disorientated, blinking in the pale pre-dawn light filtering through the shaded windows. The soft sound of breathing next to me brings immediate memory flooding back, and I stretch contentedly beside his warmth. But in the next instant a wave of coldness washes over me as I remember what I came here for, what I have allowed the fleeting pleasures of the flesh to distract me from, and with sinking heart I slip silently from his bed.

I move to the doorway, stooping to retrieve my clothes and more importantly my knife, turning to watch him sleeping as I dress. His handsome face is smooth and serene, making him look ridiculously young and innocent though I know only too well what he is capable of.

As I gaze at him in silent contemplation he shifts in the bed, rolling towards the space on his pillow that I have so recently vacated. I tense, knife at the ready, waiting for him to awaken, but instead after a few seconds he takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, settling back into the depths of his slumbers. I relax slightly, but find myself staring in astonishment at the tender smile that tugs at his lips, an expression I have never seen on his face before but one which transforms his features.

I feel a flush rising in my cheeks, the outward emanation of a sensation more potent than anything he has managed to create in me before, as I understand it is my scent on the bedding which has brought about that transformation. I turn and lean my forehead against the cool surface of the wall, trying to push away the feelings churning within me, to remember my mission, my promise to myself that when he smiled again I would complete my task. I search desperately within me for the ice barrier I have always been able to summon at will, the protection I hide my heart behind which allows me to be who I have to be to survive, but with a silent sob I realise it has gone, melted, damaged beyond repair by the power of our passion.

I move towards him, knife in hand, steeling myself to do what I must, but the smile remains and against my will my heart rejoices to see him so contented, so unbothered by dreams of the past. I halt, breathing deeply, trying to regain the equilibrium that is normally my constant companion, but realising that things can never be normal again - at least, as far as he is concerned. I steal forward, a thief in the night once more, leaning over him to drop a gentle kiss at the upturned corner of his mouth. He stirs, inhaling deeply again, and the smile broadens, but I can no longer watch.

The butterflies return to my stomach as I leave, picking my way slowly and carefully across the cluttered floor to the stairs, as I accept my unaccustomed failure in the sure knowledge that others will not. But alien as it still feels to me, I understand my target in ways they could never comprehend, and although I am already grieving for what could but never will be, I am strengthened by that understanding and ready to move on...

FINIS