I dream. I am in a bed I do not know, lying on my back, the weight of blankets over me such that I can only move my head. I am naked, and the silk sheets that trap me are cool against my skin. Only my neck and face are let bare, and though I am not blindfolded it does not matter: it is far too dark to see more than the very vaguest perceptions of movement; I close my eyes. It is silent, and all I can hear is the beating of my own heart, the slow sighing of my breath. The air smells of mountains, crisp and clear and empty. Anticipating, I relax beneath the blanket-shackles and wait.

After a time - I cannot tell how long – there is a teasing touch that brushes my cheek and disappears. I do not think it is a long wait, but I am not certain, before it returns, running over my closed eyelids in a feather kiss. It hovers there a moment, so near I can feel it touching my lashes, then lifts and alights upon my belly, and I wonder if she is here and only teasing me, or far away and using her power to play with my senses. It does not matter, and the wondering vanishes from my thoughts as a crooning lullaby invades my mind, and a whisper above that: “Playing, my darling? But that would be bad form -” and I shiver, waiting.

A cool hand is laid against my cheek, and a pair of lips presses against my own in a chaste kiss that smells of fallen leaves and roses. Lacking sight, lacking sound, all I have is touch and scent and taste, and I moan far back in my throat. The impression of laughter flits through my head. Her hands caress my face as I feel phantom hands caressing my body. At last I feel her lips upon my throat. Her tongue flicks out, tracing over it, and withdraws; I feel one hand on my forehead, tilting it back, nails digging ever so slightly into my scalp, and the weight of blankets on my chest is suddenly heavier: her other hand is there, ensuring that I cannot move. I draw in a slow, shuddering breath, and as I exhale I feel that peculiar sensation of skin and flesh giving way to a very sharp edge, that is not quite pain and is very close to pleasure. Breath hisses through my teeth as she laps at the blood welling from it, and I am suddenly dizzy, spiraling through the bed and the ceiling – now I am upside down, now I am vertical, now I am falling, but being rocked side to side on invisible waves...

My mouth is very dry. She lifts her head from my neck, her hands moving up to cradle my face between them, and kisses me. My own blood is in her mouth, on her tongue; now it moistens mine, and the taste is sweet. I am content, drowsy, and as I fall asleep I hear a murmur, perhaps aloud, perhaps in my thought, it does not matter -

“Beloved.”