Immortalis Caris -- Chapter 5 - Dreaming
Immortalis Caris -- Chapter 5
He squinted in the dimness of the cave, but it didn’t help him see any more clearly. Somehow he knew it was a cave, somewhere so deep in a mountainside the sunlight that did reach this far in, it seemed like a hallucination of light behind closed eyelids rather than the real thing.
He was sitting beside someone who was stretched out on the ground.
Dead or asleep? He wondered. He reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing the bare skin of a chest. Soft and cool. He detected movement, rhythmic and involuntary. Breathing.
He explored the form with the most feather-light of intermittent touches, discovering the landscape: prominent clavicle, breastbone, abdominal muscles, navel. He didn’t seem to be disturbing the placid being below his hand. Wandering further, he encountered the familiar delicate yet elastic skin of a penis, and rolling his palm, stroked the tender surfaces on the inside of the open thighs with the back of his hand.
He got the sensation his hand belonged to himself and someone else at the same time, that he was looking at himself lying beside himself. That’s when his conscious mind was triggered to realize he was dreaming, and with a surge of satisfaction he took control of the dream.
He allowed excitement to ignite in him as he laid down beside the form in the darkness. He blindly imagined details of the flesh that aroused him. Cupping the other’s yielding member in his hand, he applied gentle pressure and finger movements. The body’s breathing became slightly more erratic; his own body echoed the response.
A few feet away, he willed a spark to flare out of nowhere, then grew it into a timid flame. With this faint illumination he could now see the being he awakened.
Flesh so pale, its luminescence dispelled the darkness. Copper locks that seemed alive, woven with strands of restless fire as they spread out below its head like a fallen veil.
The first word that came to mind was “angel,” unearthly in its physical perfection, delicate but at the same time powerful. The word that now hovered in his consciousness was “awesome” in the archaic sense: terrible, fearsome, inspiring awe.
He forgot to breathe, but breathing did not seem necessary.
The muscles of its arms and chest rippled and tightened under its tissue-paper skin. Its hands flexed, the long fingers tipped with almost claw-like fingernails. It opened its eyes languorously to reveal black iris-less eyes. The perfect lips curved into a divine smile before they parted to reveal sharp, glistening teeth.
It spoke. The rich voice pulled at his control, sought to bind him, to meld their identities.
“Carlisle…”
His body jolted, a feeling of falling, and he awoke gasping, heart racing, his own cock painfully hard in his hand. He pushed himself off the bed in confusion, searching for the bedside clock, his touchstone for reality. The red numbers glowed fiercely at him in the disorienting blackness: 5:21am.
His alarm was set to go off at 5:30. OK. That makes sense. Last dr
eam of the sleep cycle -- the most intense, the most clearly remembered upon waking.
Jesus Fucking Christ! What the HELL kind of dream was that? Surely that qualified as a nightmare, if not an out-of-body experience! He let himself fall back onto the bed, shifting uncomfortably as his erection slowly waned.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
He was having an off day at work.
His job could be rather demanding, and he needed to keep his mind focused. LVNs did almost everything RNs did, anything and everything the RNs didn’t want to do. RNs made a lot more money -- which often accounted for a lot more attitude. Officially, it was the RNs’ responsibility that the meds were correct, but he always double checked because he’d found errors before… discrepancies. He had his eye on one person in particular. She was sampling the meds, he was sure of it. Takes an addict to know one. But today, he didn’t have the concentration for such vigilance.
First, there was that disturbing dream that had woken him this morning. Damn! He needed to get laid, that was clear. There was nobody he could talk to about the dream - he didn’t have any friends except the guys at the bar, and they’d just laugh and call him a fag. He’d always hated that word -- one of his dad’s favorite epithets. He wasn’t gay. Of course not. Damn dream like that just makes you doubt yourself. Probably everybody had dreams like that. Normal. Yeah. Guys just didn’t admit it. He was horny, and things get mixed up in a dream.
Second, there was that girl, Dee. Now there was a mystery worth pursuing. His mind kept returning to their brief interaction last night. She seemed easy to be with - no games like so many of the girls he’d met. He’d never thought about it before, but maybe he’d been going for the wrong kind of girl. Maybe the less flirty, less feminine girls offered more of what he was looking for. What am I looking for? He liked her looks, even though they weren’t typical. He kept seeing her face, her eyes. She made him feel off balance, but somehow that seemed right -- a pleasant giddyness. There was a maturity there, despite her obvious youth, that he couldn’t remember in any of the girls he’d known before. He kept thinking about kissing her.
Was it possible she liked him too? Slim chance. Let’s be honest. Who’d she live with anyway? It could be a boyfriend. That hadn’t crossed his mind before now. If it wasn’t a parent, it was probably a boyfriend. How can I find out? Without stalking her, that is. Well, a little non-threatening stalking might be necessary. He could go to the door of her apartment and just knock. She seemed to be around in the evenings. Oh sure. Just knock - but then what should I say if someone else answers the door?
Some guys just walked up to a girl and asked for what they wanted. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He needed more of a plan.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
He stopped by the games store after work, hoping he’d see her, but there was nobody in there except a bunch of hyper games geeks making the old man crazy. He picked out a small metal cube puzzle, paid for it, and went back to his car. He started the engine and pulled out onto Central, the main road towards the condo complex.
He made a sudden right turn. I can’t do this. C’mon Carlisle, you can’t just waltz up to the door of some chick you met once and think she’ll be happy to see you. He headed the few blocks over to Canyon Bar. Maybe a bit of liquid courage and re-think this...
There were a few guys at the bar when he walked in. Rosie was busy, but she did not fail to have his beer cold and ready on the left end of the bar before he could sit.
“Thanks Rosalie. Hey, how do you know I even wanna sit here?” he said jokingly.
“Guys are predictable,” she smirked cockily.
You think so? he thought. Well baby, you might be surprised if you really knew me...
As she swiped the surface directly in front of him with a rag, she murmured, “That’s the guy I told you about yesterday.” She jerked her head towards the opposite end. “He’s back.”
Carlisle zeroed in on his beer, tasted the joy, then settled back to observe the guy peripherally. Oh shit. He choked on his beer. It’s the “biker guy” from the porn theater in Espanola. He was kind of rough-looking compared to the usual clientele in here: worn jeans, t-shirt, leather vest, black boots. Dusky skinned -- maybe part Native American. Wiry, lean, strong, about 50. Black hair, longish, thinning on top. Dark eyes, coarse skin, bad teeth.
Fugly.
Carlisle smiled to himself just as the guy looked up. The guy picked up his beer and ambled over. Oh shit, here he comes. He left one stool between them and made himself at home. Carlisle caught Rosalie’s expression in the distance, eyebrows raised, watching his reaction with way too much amusement.
“How’re ya doin’?” the guy opened.
“Not bad,” Carlisle answered casually, unable to think of anything else.
“Jess,” he offered one calloused hand. Carlisle didn’t want to shake it but didn’t see any way out of it.
“Carlisle.”
“You live around here? You know the area?”
“Yeah. Some.” Be as vague as possible.
“I just moved here,” Jess said, leaning back on the stool, not making eye contact, flexing his arms on the edge of the bar. “Lookin’ to make connections.”
“Oh.” Carlisle knew Rosie was listening, and he didn’t want to dispel her view of his innocence. “Well, jobs tend to be scarce up here, but the casinos are always hiring.”
Jess smiled indulgently. “Don’t need a job, man. Need weed - etcetera - if ya know what I mean.”
Carlisle laughed uncomfortably. “When you’re subject to testing at work on a regular basis, you tend to stay away from ... things.”
Jess looked straight at Carlisle, frankly assessing him. “Hmmm. I figured you for a guy who knows how to party.”
Carlisle blushed with embarrassment and anger. How dare he? How and what the hell could this guy tell, anyway? I changed my life, and worked hard at it. He clenched his fists between his thighs. “Well, not at the moment,” he faltered.
The guy gave him that you-might-fool-them-but-you-don’t-fool-me look.
Asshole, thought Carlisle as Jess got up to leave.
“See ya ‘round, Carl.”
“Carlisle,” he responded reflexively, without looking up.
“Whatever,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the bar.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
Chapter 6
He squinted in the dimness of the cave, but it didn’t help him see any more clearly. Somehow he knew it was a cave, somewhere so deep in a mountainside the sunlight that did reach this far in, it seemed like a hallucination of light behind closed eyelids rather than the real thing.
He was sitting beside someone who was stretched out on the ground.
Dead or asleep? He wondered. He reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing the bare skin of a chest. Soft and cool. He detected movement, rhythmic and involuntary. Breathing.
He explored the form with the most feather-light of intermittent touches, discovering the landscape: prominent clavicle, breastbone, abdominal muscles, navel. He didn’t seem to be disturbing the placid being below his hand. Wandering further, he encountered the familiar delicate yet elastic skin of a penis, and rolling his palm, stroked the tender surfaces on the inside of the open thighs with the back of his hand.
He got the sensation his hand belonged to himself and someone else at the same time, that he was looking at himself lying beside himself. That’s when his conscious mind was triggered to realize he was dreaming, and with a surge of satisfaction he took control of the dream.
He allowed excitement to ignite in him as he laid down beside the form in the darkness. He blindly imagined details of the flesh that aroused him. Cupping the other’s yielding member in his hand, he applied gentle pressure and finger movements. The body’s breathing became slightly more erratic; his own body echoed the response.
A few feet away, he willed a spark to flare out of nowhere, then grew it into a timid flame. With this faint illumination he could now see the being he awakened.
Flesh so pale, its luminescence dispelled the darkness. Copper locks that seemed alive, woven with strands of restless fire as they spread out below its head like a fallen veil.
The first word that came to mind was “angel,” unearthly in its physical perfection, delicate but at the same time powerful. The word that now hovered in his consciousness was “awesome” in the archaic sense: terrible, fearsome, inspiring awe.
He forgot to breathe, but breathing did not seem necessary.
The muscles of its arms and chest rippled and tightened under its tissue-paper skin. Its hands flexed, the long fingers tipped with almost claw-like fingernails. It opened its eyes languorously to reveal black iris-less eyes. The perfect lips curved into a divine smile before they parted to reveal sharp, glistening teeth.
It spoke. The rich voice pulled at his control, sought to bind him, to meld their identities.
“Carlisle…”
His body jolted, a feeling of falling, and he awoke gasping, heart racing, his own cock painfully hard in his hand. He pushed himself off the bed in confusion, searching for the bedside clock, his touchstone for reality. The red numbers glowed fiercely at him in the disorienting blackness: 5:21am.
His alarm was set to go off at 5:30. OK. That makes sense. Last dr
eam of the sleep cycle -- the most intense, the most clearly remembered upon waking.
Jesus Fucking Christ! What the HELL kind of dream was that? Surely that qualified as a nightmare, if not an out-of-body experience! He let himself fall back onto the bed, shifting uncomfortably as his erection slowly waned.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
He was having an off day at work.
His job could be rather demanding, and he needed to keep his mind focused. LVNs did almost everything RNs did, anything and everything the RNs didn’t want to do. RNs made a lot more money -- which often accounted for a lot more attitude. Officially, it was the RNs’ responsibility that the meds were correct, but he always double checked because he’d found errors before… discrepancies. He had his eye on one person in particular. She was sampling the meds, he was sure of it. Takes an addict to know one. But today, he didn’t have the concentration for such vigilance.
First, there was that disturbing dream that had woken him this morning. Damn! He needed to get laid, that was clear. There was nobody he could talk to about the dream - he didn’t have any friends except the guys at the bar, and they’d just laugh and call him a fag. He’d always hated that word -- one of his dad’s favorite epithets. He wasn’t gay. Of course not. Damn dream like that just makes you doubt yourself. Probably everybody had dreams like that. Normal. Yeah. Guys just didn’t admit it. He was horny, and things get mixed up in a dream.
Second, there was that girl, Dee. Now there was a mystery worth pursuing. His mind kept returning to their brief interaction last night. She seemed easy to be with - no games like so many of the girls he’d met. He’d never thought about it before, but maybe he’d been going for the wrong kind of girl. Maybe the less flirty, less feminine girls offered more of what he was looking for. What am I looking for? He liked her looks, even though they weren’t typical. He kept seeing her face, her eyes. She made him feel off balance, but somehow that seemed right -- a pleasant giddyness. There was a maturity there, despite her obvious youth, that he couldn’t remember in any of the girls he’d known before. He kept thinking about kissing her.
Was it possible she liked him too? Slim chance. Let’s be honest. Who’d she live with anyway? It could be a boyfriend. That hadn’t crossed his mind before now. If it wasn’t a parent, it was probably a boyfriend. How can I find out? Without stalking her, that is. Well, a little non-threatening stalking might be necessary. He could go to the door of her apartment and just knock. She seemed to be around in the evenings. Oh sure. Just knock - but then what should I say if someone else answers the door?
Some guys just walked up to a girl and asked for what they wanted. He wasn’t that kind of guy. He needed more of a plan.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
He stopped by the games store after work, hoping he’d see her, but there was nobody in there except a bunch of hyper games geeks making the old man crazy. He picked out a small metal cube puzzle, paid for it, and went back to his car. He started the engine and pulled out onto Central, the main road towards the condo complex.
He made a sudden right turn. I can’t do this. C’mon Carlisle, you can’t just waltz up to the door of some chick you met once and think she’ll be happy to see you. He headed the few blocks over to Canyon Bar. Maybe a bit of liquid courage and re-think this...
There were a few guys at the bar when he walked in. Rosie was busy, but she did not fail to have his beer cold and ready on the left end of the bar before he could sit.
“Thanks Rosalie. Hey, how do you know I even wanna sit here?” he said jokingly.
“Guys are predictable,” she smirked cockily.
You think so? he thought. Well baby, you might be surprised if you really knew me...
As she swiped the surface directly in front of him with a rag, she murmured, “That’s the guy I told you about yesterday.” She jerked her head towards the opposite end. “He’s back.”
Carlisle zeroed in on his beer, tasted the joy, then settled back to observe the guy peripherally. Oh shit. He choked on his beer. It’s the “biker guy” from the porn theater in Espanola. He was kind of rough-looking compared to the usual clientele in here: worn jeans, t-shirt, leather vest, black boots. Dusky skinned -- maybe part Native American. Wiry, lean, strong, about 50. Black hair, longish, thinning on top. Dark eyes, coarse skin, bad teeth.
Fugly.
Carlisle smiled to himself just as the guy looked up. The guy picked up his beer and ambled over. Oh shit, here he comes. He left one stool between them and made himself at home. Carlisle caught Rosalie’s expression in the distance, eyebrows raised, watching his reaction with way too much amusement.
“How’re ya doin’?” the guy opened.
“Not bad,” Carlisle answered casually, unable to think of anything else.
“Jess,” he offered one calloused hand. Carlisle didn’t want to shake it but didn’t see any way out of it.
“Carlisle.”
“You live around here? You know the area?”
“Yeah. Some.” Be as vague as possible.
“I just moved here,” Jess said, leaning back on the stool, not making eye contact, flexing his arms on the edge of the bar. “Lookin’ to make connections.”
“Oh.” Carlisle knew Rosie was listening, and he didn’t want to dispel her view of his innocence. “Well, jobs tend to be scarce up here, but the casinos are always hiring.”
Jess smiled indulgently. “Don’t need a job, man. Need weed - etcetera - if ya know what I mean.”
Carlisle laughed uncomfortably. “When you’re subject to testing at work on a regular basis, you tend to stay away from ... things.”
Jess looked straight at Carlisle, frankly assessing him. “Hmmm. I figured you for a guy who knows how to party.”
Carlisle blushed with embarrassment and anger. How dare he? How and what the hell could this guy tell, anyway? I changed my life, and worked hard at it. He clenched his fists between his thighs. “Well, not at the moment,” he faltered.
The guy gave him that you-might-fool-them-but-you-don’t-fool-me look.
Asshole, thought Carlisle as Jess got up to leave.
“See ya ‘round, Carl.”
“Carlisle,” he responded reflexively, without looking up.
“Whatever,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the bar.
…..ll x ll x ll x ll…..
Chapter 6