I hear the toilet flush and realize she’s almost done. Panic and need collide, and I stroke twice more and come hard.
My seed spills across the floor in thick ropes, completely black, darker than my skin. It’s gooey and substantial, and it pools on the cheap carpet. It’s more than I expected, and it keeps coming in waves as my cock pulses with each spurt. The release is intense but not fully satisfying.
I still want more. I want her.
I hear the tap turn off in the bathroom. She’s definitely coming out, so I stand quickly and step directly into the puddle of my own seed. The moment my foot touches it, the substance gets absorbed back into my body. By the time the bathroom door opens, I’m clean, my cock has retreated, and my crotch is nearly flat again. There’s no evidence of what I just did.
Wren comes out fully dressed. She looks at me standing by the bed, and I try to look normal, but I feel dazed. My thoughts are scattered and my body is humming with tiny aftershocks.
“Ready to merge again?” she asks. “We should go out like yesterday.”
I agree, still feeling off-balance.
I merge with her, and she doesn’t flinch like she used to. It makes me happy that she’s getting used to me and doesn’t need to close her eyes and go rigid when I enter her. Once inside, I focus on keeping my thoughts locked down.
We repeat yesterday’s routine: breakfast at the diner and visiting sketchy establishments. But I can barely pay attention to the mission. All my energy goes into keeping my thoughts guarded from hers, building walls in my mind, and maintaining barriers.
I can feel she’s doing the same thing. Her thoughts are unusually contained, but despite both our efforts, images slip through. I see the shower, my hands on her body, my cock pushing inside her tightness… I can’t tell if the images come from my mind or hers, but I suspect both of us are thinking about it constantly. Every hour at least, her mind drifts back to the dream. Each time, her body responds, heat pooling low and wetness gathering in her panties.
It’s absolute torture for me to feel her arousal and know that I caused it. She’s wet all day, and I can feel everything – the sensitivity of her skin, the ache in her core. By afternoon, we’re both barely functional, going through motions on autopilot. The tension builds with each passing hour, neither of us acknowledging what’s happening but both completely aware.
We return to the motel room late afternoon. Wren doesn’t ask me to unmerge. Instead, she throws herself on the bed and stares at the ceiling. I wait inside her, uncertain of what’s happening. The silence stretches long and uncomfortable.
“Maybe we need to talk,”she says.
“Okay.”
“This merging situation... it’s become easier for me. I even enjoy it to some degree. You make me feel strong and safe.”She pauses.“But it’s still too much.”
I wait and don’t interrupt.
“I need to ask you something directly.”Another pause.“When we sleep like this, when I dream... do you have access to my dreams?”
I hesitate. I know I need to tell the truth, but I dread it. I’m frankly shocked she’s opening the conversation. She’s definitely braver than I am.
“Yes.”
Her heart rate spikes.
“When you dream, I get pulled into it. But I do have a choice. I can exit and end the dream for both of us.”I continue,“You initiate it because it’s your mind, but once I’m there, I have agency too.”
Wren groans out loud and covers her face with her hands. She feels like crying. Waves of humiliation roll through her, and I feel all of it through our connection.
“It’s all fine, Wren. It’s normal, it’s–”
“It’s not fine!”she snaps.“I had that dream last night. I’m sure you know which dream I’m talking about. It all really happened, didn’t it?”Her inner voice gets louder, more distressed. “You were there. You participated. Oh God, this is so wrong.”
“Yes, it happened. I was there. I... I participated.”
“I’m so sorry. I feel so guilty now.”She sits up, agitated.“I pulled you into a dream you maybe didn’t want to be in. That was non-consensual. I basically forced you to–”
She can’t finish the sentence.
“No. Stop. That’s not what happened. Yes, you initiated the dream. Yes, there were prompts in my head from you, things you wanted. But I was completely in control of my own actions. What happened was because I wanted it to happen.”My voice softens.“You didn’t force me to do anything, Wren. I should apologize to you. I took advantage of your vulnerability. I’m your bodyguard. I should have ended the dream the moment I realized what it was. Instead, I stayed. I wanted it too much to walk away. That’s on me, not you.”
“No, you didn’t take advantage of me. What happened... happened. Neither of us could stop it because we were both too into it.”
She realizes what she just admitted. Silence falls between us.
