Wet Dream
by Exhayle

     "Hey...    Hey...  Can you hear me?" the voice of a shadow echoed into the blank of Ambrose's mind. It took him a moment to rouse enough to respond.  "Mmph. What is it, Sabin?" He grunted sleepily. "Are you alone?" Ambrose tried to turn over to see what was going on, but his sleep was too heavy on him. "Yes," he replied irritably. "It's the middle of the night and I'm in bed. What about it?" "Excellent. Brace yourself, Puppy."
     Ambrose gasped as he found himself abruptly awash in sensation. His fists clenched in the sheets, and instead of the simple cotton he’d fallen asleep on, he felt pampered silk against his skin. "You're sleeping, you're feeling what I'm feeling," Sabin informed him, happy with the convenient perk of his power. "Since you wouldn’t let me in your room for the night,  I thought I'd let you experience a little of what you were missing." Ambrose couldn't bring his scattered wits together long enough to form a reply - his lover’s masterful use of dreams and the sheer possibilities of dreams themselves was already more than he’d ever known. Plenty of his loud, clipped, shaky ‘Ah!’s filled their mind.
     Sabin was lying naked on silk sheets, lost in what seemed to be pillows. He opened his eyes briefly, allowing Ambrose to see a large, beautiful room painted with sultry red and violet lights and laced carelessly with ivory silk, then he sighed and closed them again.
     He allowed his right hand to drift down slowly, trailing the fingers across his skin until they reached a nipple. He pinched it, hard, then soothed it, easy, feeling it stiffen slowly under his fingers as Ambrose gasped, feeling his own bud draw tight in response.
     With his left hand, Sabin teased the more sensitive spots of his body: the lips, the other nipple, the waist, the thigh... Each teasing touch built the tension along the link between them, until it veritably sang under the pressure. Ambrose, helpless in his struggle to remain calm, was panting and trying desperately to writhe in his own bed but he was kept completely from any means of escape, and though he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs the only sounds that broke free were tiny mewls of increasingly painful desire.
     Finally, the beautiful dream-weaver dropped his right hand down to stroke slowly at his cock, making sure Ambrose felt its already stiff length harden even further under a practiced touch. The sensation received along the link, Ambrose thought, was in some ways more erotic than actually being touched. Moaning, Ambrose wanted to grasp his own erection, but his lover wouldn’t allow it. Not that he didn’t notice his efforts; actually taking delight in them as he kept him frozen in sensation, threatening him to submit or he’d quit. Reluctantly Ambrose fisted his hands in the sheet once more, quivering, digging his heels into the layers as much as his non-existant binds would allow, but adamantly unwilling to let this incredible experience end.
     Gradually, Sabin quickened, squeezing harder, allowing the cum to trickle down the length of his cock and lubricate the motion. With his other hand, he teased again at a nipple -- he knew from being alone together before just how sensitive Ambrose's nipples were; he'd actually succeeded in getting the chivalrous Lycan to come once just by playing with them. He could hear Ambrose's response through whatever blurring and melding plane they were in, and it only drove him to new heights of strain.
     Ambrose could hear gasping in his ears and he didn't know whether it was him or the other. He managed to turn coiled on his side, he thought, trying helplessly to get away from the pain but naturally only needing more, the visions and feelings and notions the shadow was eliciting in him traveling over his own body like ghostly trills, bringing him torturously close to completion. When he was nearly crying from the shock of it all, just when he was convinced he would surely die of sensory overload, something snapped within and they came shouting tearful cries of ecstasy into the darkness, both of them arching their hips off their beds as if it would help, then trembling back down gingerly like the whole world had gone cold.
     As Sabin finally allowed Ambrose to wake up, panting, covered in sweat and spunk, he heard benevolent ghostly laughter fading away in his head; the last thing he heard as the connection vanished without a trace. Far too weak and angry to move, Ambrose lay staring at the ceiling and wondered just what the hell he'd gotten himself into, and just how he would get back at Sabin for such rude invasion of privacy..