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Subject: {ASSM} Dreams of Passion {bishop} (MF con rom magic slow)
Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2000 20:10:26 -0500
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After much personal debate and a little push from a reader of _Deliverance_,
I have decided to post this story. It is not really erotica per se, but more
romantic (I guess). Just something a little different I guess for some. I
hope you enjoy it. You were all so kind to me about the last one.

I was told that I should have explained the last piece a little to introduce
it properly. I didn't see the need then, but I do now. This piece is part of
a larger unfinished work with myself and my brother as the authors. The two
main characters are twins. The only thing that I think is unclear in this
piece to those who haven't seen anything else of the main work is this:
Drujon is a necromancer, one who deals in the magic of the dead. Ian is a
deaf-mute Dreamweaver, one who can actually enter dreams as if they were
just like physical reality. Other than that, everything else should just be
a blur of romance. (grin)

------
Dreams of Passion
by
bishop
inspired by
Dan Fogelberg and Eric Dahl

Drujon entered the dimly lit atrium of the infamous Lion's Club on the east
side of University Towers. Folding back his iridescent black cloak, he
surveyed the dense crowd for the Edlefar contact he sought. The dark oak bar
at the west side of the room was encompassed by smoke and the smell of
liquor from the patrons. The colorful assortment of clothing clearly
indicated the diversity of cultures represented by this unruly lot of
creatures. Men conversed with elves while dwarves and gnomes argued over
gambling debts. All cultures of thieves sat in dark corners assessing
potential prospects for their trade. The sound of darts came from the north
end of the room.

Drujon moved silently around the patrons who were seated at the tables which
were scattered about the main portion of the room. Many played dice or the
Beggar's Game of cards. One dwarf even dared to play the
pebble-under-the-nutshell trick on unsuspecting fools. The low tremble of
noise was only pierced by the banging of glass mugs at the bar and
surrounding tables.

Heading for the south stairs which led to the lower chamber, often referred
to by the locals as "The Pit" for its unruly behavior and unmentionable
activities, Drujon waded through the crowd occasionally pushing away from
him a drunk who had stumbled into him. Reaching the entrance to the stairs,
the pungent smell of human evil reached up toward Drujon repulsing him.
Preparing himself for the worst, Drujon looked at the steps which were
encrusted with mud and who knows what else, and began his descent into the
abyss of the Lion's Club.

Stopping on the final step of the stairs in the Pit, Drujon looked around at
the hordes of men who sat at crudely built tables watching a slim elfin
wench dance naked upon the plank stage before them. Some ignored the scene
and played card games by the harsh torchlight which was the main source of
light except that which split through the stale air from upstairs. Others in
the room conducted transactions of somewhat suspicious natures in dark
crevices of the room.
Not finding the man of the correct description, Drujon turned to return
upstairs and was struck by the eyes of innocence and passion. Pools of
radiant blue ran like wild stallions through the wilderness of soft rose
skin. The young girl was at the table of men who were drowning their senses
in liquor and cards.

The girl scurried from one side of the table to the other avoiding the
advances of the men. All the while, her full dress bouncing around her waist
and legs like lace in a dust storm. The laughter which emanated from her was
like a never ending wellspring of music from a heavenly angelic choir which
caused her young, but full vivacious breasts to move in synchronicity with
the beautiful music of her voice. She moved behind the men from one to
another searching the cards in each hand and signaling to an older man in
their midst with nearly invisible gestures, obviously for him to win.
To Drujon, the girl stopped eternity and the grains of Time's hourglass
slowed to an unbearable flow. The room seemed to spin, with her as the focus
of all energies, and emotions filled Drujon like the cataclysmic fire aeons
ago. Memories of a love that seemed so far away and yet stayed so close to
his soul were rekindled with a passion so fierce that ten thousand furnaces
of the hells could not match the heat.

As time resumed its course, the girl spun from her position at the table.
Her eyes caught the essence of Drujon's soul and hearts were captured in a
moments glance into Fate's skein. The dancing flames within her spirit,
which showed through her eyes, captured a passion only possible in the
dreams of a lonely man. Time held its peace for only a moment longer, but
then would suffer no longer to the intensity of Drujon's will.

Turning from his mesmerizing stare, the girl continued her past activity
without the exuberance of before and she turned back occasionally to look at
him while he fought to regain control of his mind and emotions. Drujon
turned and stumbled up the stairs and caught hold of the bar to steady
himself and sit down. In keeping with his mystic conviction, he asked for a
glass of water even though his mind screamed for something stronger. After
gulping it down, he threw a gold piece at the barkeeper and slowly walked
outside.

Beginning to mount his horse, he stopped and turned to look at the sunset
which reminded him even more of the shock he still felt of the passion of
his memories that the girl and invoked in his soul of souls. The fight
between his mind and his heart. The past promises and the future emptiness.
How could he continue to fell this way? Why couldn't he just move on?

Reaching up to again mount his horse, Drujon's vision was once more engulfed
in the invoking sight of the same girl. She had already mounted her horse
while he had been staring off into space and was riding down the main street
of town alone. Not prepared to act, Drujon just stood and watched her go.
After she disappeared from his sight, Drujon, weary from the emotional
strain she had caused in him, headed the opposite direction toward the house
of lodging he and his brother always kept.

Ian sensed the door to Drujon's room next to his close quietly and then the
collapsing of his mind into another state of existence. Gently sliding his
arm from underneath the silent female next to him, Ian rose quietly from the
bed and, after putting on his pants, slipped out the door into the hall.

Knocking on Drujon's door and receiving no answer, he opened the door so not
even to disturb a sleeping mouse. There on the bed was the sprawled figure
of his brother in a coma-like state. Pausing for only a moment to see if his
brother would recognize his presence, Ian walked to the bedside and touched
Drujon's forehead with his thumb, index finger, and middle finger.

Ian searched Drujon's mind and found him wandering aimlessly through the
outskirts of DreamState's city-state, RoyalCentre, with the most beautiful
ethereal being he had ever seen. But it was also apparent that Drujon did
not see this beauty as anything but completely real in a physical sense.
Collapsing his mind within itself, Ian raced through the corridors of
Drujon's mind desperately trying to find the entry point through which his
brother had entered DreamState.
Finding the door, Ian ran through it and into the realm of the sleeping he
knew so well, but changed every time he came back. Rushing up the hill in
front of him, he found Drujon's tracks and knew he was on the right path.
Embracing the crest of the hill, Ian looked down and saw Drujon under a
grove in the arms of the ethereal shadow of what Ian supposed was a memory.
Ian sprinted down the hill toward his twin. Upon reaching the two figures,
he saw that he was too late for Drujon and the girl had already shed their
clothes and were embracing passionately.

Seeing Ian, Drujon rose and empathically sent him anger and secrecy which
filled Ian's mind like a tidal wave, but it was mixed with hurt and passion.
Falling backwards because of the force in which Drujon sent his feelings,
Ian stumbled back up the hill.

Reaching his own mind and body, He reeled back in mental pain. Hands slipped
under his head and the feelings of love and peace filled his mind with
healing power. Looking around he saw that he was laying in the arms of his
beloved friend and mate who was now wrapped only in his thin traveling cloak
and her golden-brown hair fell across her neck and chest. The cloak was not
enough for her on this chilly evening and her firm breasts quivered through
the loose fabric.

Behind his mate stood a stunning female that Ian immediately recognized as
the physical form of Drujon's dream. Thoughts raced through Ian's mind like
thunderbolts from the hand of Cortan. Hoping for Drujon's release from his
own dream, Ian linked his mind to that of his mate's. Sending her the
feelings, she translated for the girl: "If you should wake him, he will be
free. If you don't, he could remain with your image inside his mind
forever."

Shaking her head, the girl turned quickly toward the door and stopped but
did not turn around. Standing for what seemed like an eternity for Ian, the
girl looked down at her hands. Ian felt hurt, love, sympathy, and
desperation flow from her mind, but she began to move out the door.

Rushing across the floor toward her, Ian grasped her legs and set all the
emotions he had felt from her back into her. Looking down at him, she saw
love and tears flow from his eyes. Putting her hand on his forehead, she
surprised him by using his own empathic mental language: "I will try for he
has beckoned and I love your brother. Go rest and be assured that I will be
here with him." Holding on to her, Ian continued to sob until his mate
helped him to his feet and back into their room where she put him into bed
and laid beside him stroking his chest and comforting his mind.

The girl waited until Ian's door had shut and then closed and bolted the
door to Drujon's room. Crossing over to the bed she untied the neck of his
cloak and folded it back to the bed. Then she held his head as she pulled
his shirt up over his arms and head. Moving to the end of the bed she
removed his boots and set them gently down on the floor beside the bed and
then crawled across the bed and stopped next to Drujon's waist. Untying his
pants, she pulled them off and threw them across the end of the bed. Pulling
the covers down, then up over him, she tucked him in and watched his breath
as she untied her shirt strings and lifted it above her head revealing the
pink skin of the breasts that had resounded with laughter earlier that
afternoon. Removing her dress, she slid her smooth legs of clear pink under
the blankets next to the prostrate form of the fallen mystic.

Sliding over across Drujon, half on him and half off with one leg between
his thighs and the other to the side of him and the rest of her body
partially covering him. Looking at his closed eyes, she ran her hands over
his chest up to his face and then smoothed her fingers through his long
reddish auburn hair.

Mentally struggling to enter Drujon's dreams through the egoblocks he had
created, the girl finally entered the world of the sleeping through her own
gateways. Finding the same hill Ian had stumbled across earlier, she ran up
to the top. Looking down to the tree grove, she found Drujon with the
essence of his dreams which looked like herself. Looking up the top of the
hill, Drujon was struck by a blinding emotion which he had felt before
outside of his dreams.
Searching the crest of the hill, he found that the image of his girl was
gone. Turning back to his dream, he was lost to find her as she was no
longer sitting with him. Turning circles, he looked in every direction for
her but to no avail.
As he sat down alone, he was stunned again by emotions and saw the figure of
his dream before him. This one, however, did not shimmer as his dream had
before. He reached out to touch this figure. A voice of melodies whispered
in his mind: "Drujon. Trust. Listen." Moving closer to him, her voice
continued in his mind: "Drujon. I am Alexis, the lifemate of your dreams.
You have called and I have answered your beckoning. What wish you of me?"

Drujon's answer came before the though occurred: "Love of your soul."

Her reply was soft and tender, but full of passion and desire: "Take it."

Reaching for her, she moved closer to receive his embrace. As they kissed,
the passion encompassed them and the intensity of emotion clouded the rest
of the realm from existence in their minds.

Eternity crossed by them several times and the husks of dead aeons of time
drifted in their vicinity but they were blind to all passing by the rolling
of emotions. Their caresses became deeper and the link of minds and bodies
carried them beyond the stasis of ecstasy and into the eternity of love's
immortality and through the handbasket of hope's virginity and out into the
creating desire of their own consciousness in the making.

As their minds floated through the mists of empyrean, Drujon realized that
he was touching Alexis physically with more than his soul, mind, or will,
but with his actual hands and body. He pulled his fingers down through her
hair and across her face tracing eyebrows and the lines of her pink lips. He
kissed her passionately and moved his lips across her cheek and over the
side of her neck slowly exploring it with the very tip of his tongue and
roaming from left to right and edging his way down to her throat.

Drujon moved his hands down Alexis' arms, which were stretched out above
her, to her sides and down further to her hips. Slowly retracing his path
with the gentle touch of his fingertips, Drujon heard the quiet moan issue
like a breeze from her lips. Reaching the crevice below her shoulders, he
slid his hands across her chest slowly and gently caressing each erect
breast and down into the valley between them. He moved down to massage to
crevice of her breasts with his lips and Alexis rolled her head up and dug
her fingernails into Drujon's scalp forcing him deeper into her chest.
A knocking at the door, which rattled the mirror on the wall above them,
startled them and Drujon rolled off the bed reaching for his staff as Alexis
pulled the blankets up to her neck. Finding his pants and quickly pulling
them on, Drujon approached the door, "Who is it?"

Instantly his mind was filled with the empathic senses of fear, concern,
love, wonder, curiosity, and amazement. Drujon knew then his brother was the
intruder of his passion. Opening the door, he found Ian and Teyva standing;
Teyva with her arms around Ian slightly supporting him. Ian's thoughts
rushed forward again: "Well?"

Drujon reverted back to their childhood form of communications so that Teyva
could understand also, and replied with slight annoyance; "All I can say to
begin is that you disturb the most perfect ecstasy possible in your realm of
dreams or my own reality of death. But sincerely, thank you for your attempt
to help me. I am truly sorry for the force I used while in the dream," his
hands moved quickly.

Teyva spoke to Drujon, "Ian tried what he could, but you wouldn't let him.
The girl came to Ian's room to find you and found me instead. She's the one
who helped you the most." Ian began to slump back against her and Drujon
help her lead him back into Ian's room as she continued, "Ian is exhausted
for some reason. I've never seen this before. It scares me and he can't tell
me what it is. He just keeps signaling danger and fear; darkness which
frightens me."
"Let him sleep and we'll see about it in the morning."

"Drujon. It is noon. You've been asleep, or whatever, since seven chimes
last night. Ian's been asleep since eight chimes," replied Teyva. "This is
not the Ian I know. My Ian is strong and never like this. Something is
definitely wrong."
Reaching down to Ian's forehead, Drujon felt the physical heat of fever and
also the mental anguish of what seemed like a war in Ian's head. Ian's form
collapsed in Teyva's arms and Drujon turned to leave. "Let him sleep for one
hour and he will be fine for a while. I have exorcised the pain away." He
walked out and shut the door quietly leaving Teyva stroking Ian's hair in
her lap.


Copyright 1990-96 The Bishop Trust & Eric Dahl.
Copyright 2000 Kindred Enterprises.
All Rights Reserved

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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