Black Crescent Bay

the siren's kiss

A/N:

My boyfriend should be Fucking his babies into my womb right about now. And I'm NOT joking.

Happy reading. I'm fucking depressed and miss the warm cuddles my boyfriend used to supply, so I'll be right here... waiting... waiting for him to return to me. Don't mind me, guys.

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Something warm and light and gentle pressed against my lips. Something warm, light, and gentle pulled me back into my body. My existence had been somewhere far away just a second ago. But here I was, floating back in my body.

My body was warm all over as my lungs were being sucked inside out and life was being forced back into them. I think I was gasping. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I wanted to gasp. Maybe I couldn't breathe at all.

"Hey, easy... Easy, you're okay..." His voice, it was light. So warm. So delicate.

And it was drawing me in, drawing me closer to reality. It was so soft and sweet and gentle and melodic, I thought he was humming a song. Everything he said was as hauntingly beautiful as a hymn sang in a Catholic Church. I'd never been, but I was sure I was onto something.

I wanted to speak. To beg him, for what, I don't know.

He shushed me, lifted my head up, tucked it somewhere warm and I was gently rocked until I fell back down.

"You're okay, I've got you."

It's the last thing I heard. The last thing I felt was his hand wrapped around my throat, his webbed fingers tightening around my pulse.

I flinched up. My eyes took forever and a day to adjust to the darkness. But the room soon settled around me, and reality set in for a final time.

I was in my room. I was dry. And warm. Wrapped in my blankets like a cat in a burrito. And more than that, I was fully-clothed.

I sighed in relief. I don't know what it was about that dream in particular but I felt naked. Exposed. Like he was touching apart of me that was deep within me, something even I couldn't touch. Like he was holding my beating heart in his hands.

My brain replayed the vision and I groaned and tried to think of literally anything else.

"Are you okay?" His voice forced a yelp from my throat. He'd walked through the open-door from the living room. "Are you still hurt?" With every step he took closer to me, I slid myself backward with much difficulty.

This blanket burrito wasn't exactly helping.

"What are you doing in my house?" His head tilted to the side, and he leaned forward.

I flinched back and shut my eyes. There was a clicking sound, and the black behind my eyes turned golden brown. I opened them. He'd turned on a light and was staring down at me with worry.

"This--um--" he gestured around, "this is my house."

I looked around. He was right. That wasn't my disheveled closet; these weren't my empty, boring, not-at-all decorated walls; this wasn't my clean bedroom without even a single miscellaneous fabric knotted on the ground.

What had I been thinking?

Nay, what had he been thinking? Taking me to his house? Me, a stranger, who'd vowed to kill him the next time I saw him?

I narrowed my eyes as he only looked more worried. The audacity of this silver-tongued, yellow-bellied poisonous frog.

"You!" I shouted.

"Me." He nodded with a raised eyebrow, "You fell in the water." I didn't wait for him to finish as I struggled free from the blanket with a war-cry and threw myself into his arms.