Disclaimers:  Characters and concept of  Mortal Kombat belong to their rightful owners (a.k.a., not me ;-)). Original characters and story  are mine, however, and cannot be used/printed/posted without permission.  Thanks.
Author's Note:  This story is set approximately a week after the events in "In Kold Blood" (Kiri and her girl Anka return to wreak some havoc whilst pretending to help) and what I am saying for the story's sake was about two days after the events in "Flawed Victory" (Quan Chi and  his girl wreak havoc on Kung Lao's sense of propriety whilst pretending to be Siro and Taja).
Spoilers:  Flawed Victory, In Kold Blood
Category:  Romance/PWP
Rating:  NC-17.      Content:  M/F, minor F/F.

Dreams
-- a prelude to "Summer" --

© 1999, Grace Macy

Earth Realm
Reyland Imports
c. 950 CE

Siro quietly closed his bedroom door behind him and started downstairs for some water.  His ribs were still aching and he was restless tonight.  Catching a soft sound coming from within Taja's room, though, he paused, frowning.  He listened more closely and realized it was a soft moan.  Instinct took over, alertness for danger still high-priority after their battle with Quan Chi.  He called Taja's name, softly, then carefully opened the door.

The light from his candle suffused the room with a dim golden glow, but there were no lurking shadows.  Still concerned, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving it open a crack just in case an escape was needed.  Taja's bed was directly across the room from the door, giving him an unobstructed view as he proceeded.  She was alone in her bed, but her sleep was clearly not undisturbed.

A nightmare?, Siro wondered, watching as the young woman moved restlessly under the sheets.  He had a moment to feel conscious of her state of undress.  The billowy shirt that she slept in had slid down one pale shoulder and hitched itself up over her thigh, offering forbidden glimpses.  But Siro pushed aside embarrassment -- and the definite stirrings of desire -- and concentrated on his concern.

Taja's slender eyebrows were drawn into a frown, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her fiery hair tumbled about the pillow as she tossed her head.  Siro leaned down, fully prepared to wake her, comfort her (although the chance of her allowing it was as slim as that of him admitting to being more than slightly hurt when in fact he had a broken bone or two).

Instead, he heard her murmur, quite distinctly: ". . . yes . . .  please . . . please, yes!"

Siro drew back abruptly, color flaring onto his cheeks as he realized that this was no nightmare that had her moaning.  Just as abruptly, another part of his mind, completely separate from the one that demanded he vacate the room immediately, mused:  I wonder what she's dreaming of . . . who she's dreaming of. . .

That same part of his mind sent a command to his hand, making it lift and stroke feather-light across the flushed cheek of the young woman before him.

*

Taja was dreaming.  She wasn't sure yet if it was a good dream or not, only that the sensations in it and from it were intense, more so than anything she had ever experienced before.  That was part of what scared her.  In her dream, hands slid over her flesh, caressing, teasing, fire-hot in the reaction they produced.  Gliding over her breasts, thighs, belly . . . wandering down to the niche between her legs.

And the hands belonged to Kiri and Anka.

Hands that left her gasping, begging, only to have her pleas smothered by a hot mouth on hers, nimble tongue dancing inside to war with her own.  And then coming away as two pairs of hands slid between her legs, rubbing against her in delicious friction, so that she could gasp out another plea.

"Oh gods, yes . . .  please . . . please, yes!"

"You like this, little warrior?" Kiri's voice whispered in her ear, chuckling.  "I knew you would.  You need to be touched . . . caressed . . ."

"Fucked," Anka threw in, giggling.

Taja started to respond, to push them away, furious, but their hands continued, stroking her core and then slipping one slender finger inside.  Taja gasped and let out a low moan . . . .

*

Taja moaned again, turning instinctively towards his touch, and Siro froze as her sweat-dampened skin brushed against his fingers.  She was hot to the touch, her breathing ragged.   But not as much as it could be, that little piece of him murmured.

She shifted again and the shirt slid a bit further down from her shoulder, revealing the top of one breast.  Unheeded by the logical half of his mind that was trying desperately to regain control, his hand moved down from the curve of her cheek, sliding ghost-like across the sensitive tendon on the side of her neck, the strong line of her shoulder, down to that tempting swell of flesh.

His light touch on her neck and shoulder made Taja arch slightly towards his hand, pressing against his fingers as they brushed across her breast.  The touch wound its way into her dream, making already intense imagery and sensation that much more realistic.  Siro realized this when she failed to wake when her movement made his hand come down harder than he had planned.  Not that he had really planned anything, his logical self protested.   And not that he would go any farther.  It was wrong!  Taja was his friend, nothing more, and even if she weren't -- she was sleeping, vulnerable!  He could never ---

That other part of his mind wasn't listening.  Instead, it was rather concentrated on keeping his hand moving, sliding slowly down the slope of her breast, down to her belly, skimming ever so lightly under the bunched up fabric at her thigh.

*

Mouths, hands . . . touches, kisses . . . everywhere . . .  Stroking and teasing, offering sweet torture and release even as her mind struggled, caught between pleasure and fury.   She hated them, hated these Reptiles for what they were and what they did,  had done and would do in the future . . . but  gods, the way they were touching her, making love to her. . .

No.

Not love.  Taja's breath caught as agile fingers swept insistently against her core, seeming to become more and more intense with every moment.  Never love.  It was exactly as Anka had said.  They were fucking her, nothing more.

And she was enjoying every second of it, gods damn them.

*

Taja slept on, but her reactions were as sharp as if she were awake.  She turned fully onto her back, her thighs parting as his hand slipped under the hem of the shirt.  Siro watched her face carefully, drinking in the sight of her parted lips, the slight flutter of her lashes as she dreamed and reacted to his touch, the tremble to her lips as his hand dipped slightly. . .   His breath caught sharply as he touched her core, feeling the heat and moisture there, leaning in instinctively towards her as if he might catch her scent.  Gods, but she was wet!

Desire was overwhelming him now, facets of the bright young thief/warrior sliding into place as they never truly had before.  He had long ago tuned out the revealing outfit she wore, turned his mind away from the way light would fall on the slope of her neck, or the way her hips moved as she walked.  He had striven to see her as only another warrior, a friend and equal, never as an attractive woman.  Never as someone he wanted to bed.  But here, now, looking down at her form edged golden from the candle-light, feeling the firm flesh under his hand, the warmth of her essence against his fingers, it took all he had to not wake her and take -- and give -- everything he could.

Instead, he took a deep, steadying breath, and moved his hand slowly, gently . . .  If he couldn't have her, the least he could do was help her along a bit.  It would, that little part of his mind whispered, be a shame to waste the sweet essence that seeped from her because of this dream.

*

The dream was changing somehow.  Hands still touched her, fucked her, but it was . . . different . . . now.  Taja frowned and forced her eyes to open, almost afraid to see who was now caressing her so skillfully, bringing her so close to the edge.

Shadows slid around his features at first, but she would know those broad shoulders anywhere.   He leaned forward, his hands so large and strong against her skin; they were easily capable of inflicting hurt, she had seen it in battle, felt it herself to a minor extent in training, but now they were simply the most incredibly sensual tools ever created.  Taja's breath caught as the shadows shifted and revealed warm brown eyes, the familiar teasing smile, and reached weakly for him.

He came to her, leaning down to capture her lips in a punishing kiss that contrasted with the gentleness of his hands, demanding everything she had, everything she was. . .  In a way she never would have expected, even after Quan Chi's shapeshifting venture days ago, she obliged him gladly, offering everything that was in her soul as the warm, hard weight of his body came down on hers.

*

Taja moaned a bit more as his fingers swept against the sensitive cleft in her skin, tracing a path he knew well from other women, and explored as skillfully now as he had with them.   But there was more to it now, the knowledge that anything further was forbidden since it might wake her.  It made him want her that much more, sending desire straight to his groin so that he had to shift slightly on the bed to accommodate his growing erection.  Her breath swept across his skin as she turned her head towards him, her teeth worrying at her lower lip, and he suddenly wanted desperately to kiss her.

Instead, he concentrated his attentions elsewhere, his touch growing harder, more insistent.   She was already close to orgasm, he could see it, sense it, but he couldn't bear to draw it out.   He wanted to see her come, wanted to see her face as he made her come.  She gave a little whimper as he pressed harder, fingers moving in a growing rhythm.  Succumbing to temptation, he slipped one long finger slowly, gently, inside her, and gasped at the urgent flutter of her inner muscles about it.  He reached up and brushed her face with the fingers of his other hand, feeling the flush of passion-inspired fever on her skin.

He watched her as he continued to pleasure her, stroking, teasing, circling, thrusting gently with that lone finger.  Taja's hips arced off the bed with every caress, the little moans mixing with unintelligible words, until one became clear and nearly froze him in surprise.   A name.

His name.

*

Taja wrapped her arms about his torso, her hands wandering down across hot silken flesh, short nails scratching in urging as his weight settled on her.  Siro kissed her again, then moved his kisses to her neck, shoulder, breast.  He turned them so that she was on top, and leaned up to continue his ministrations, his mouth as hot and demanding on her flesh as it had been on her lips.  Taja gasped his name, her hands coming up to cradle his head, encouraging and then raising his face so that she could kiss him again.  In that instant, as her attention was occupied by the agile movement of his tongue against hers, she felt his hands on her hips, raising her slightly and then shifting their position just so.

Taja gasped again, her voice turning into a little crying moan as he slid into her.  Hot and hard, silk over steel, his shaft going deep, so deliciously deep inside her.  Taja kissed him again, and this time she was the one demanding, taking even as he took her.

*

Siro almost paused in his surprise, but then desire rushed him, hitting like a sledgehammer that left him breathless and moved his hand, again, of its own accord.  Taja moaned as a second finger joined the first inside her, his thumb still stroking her clit in the hard, even rhythm he had established.  Her hips lifted, her thighs opening further in silent entreaty, and he obliged, withdrawing his fingers and then thrusting.  Harder, faster, with each stroke, his breath ragged in his chest as he watched pleasure flash across Taja's delicate features.

"Oh gods . . . Siro," she whispered, caught in the dream and sensation. ". . .  yes. . ."

Siro smiled tightly, fighting past the urge to take her in reality as well; his erection was unbearably hard now, demanding to feel the same hot, wet sheathe his fingers were privileged to.   Taja moaned again and he changed the rhythm slightly, making it faster, harder, obeying the tiny cries and whispered pleas that came from her throat.  Suddenly, her body froze for a half-second, and then a long shuddering moan left her as her hips lifted off the bed.   Inner muscles clenched hard around his fingers, sending a vicarious spasm to his cock, strong enough so that Siro had to use every ounce of self-control he had left to not join her in the intensity of her orgasm.

It lasted for several long moments, her body shuddering with wave after wave of her climax, little whimpers and cries escaping her lips so that Siro finally succumbed to the urge he had been fighting.  He leaned forward and down, brushing her face with gentle, soothing kisses, tasting the salt of sweat on her forehead, cheeks, and on the velvet of her lips.  It would have been so easy to deepen that kiss, worth it simply to explore the curves of that wonderful mouth until he woke her, lose himself in her.  But Siro pulled back, reluctantly leaving her mouth as he did her body, slowly withdrawing his fingers.  Taja frowned in her sleep, as if to protest, and Siro lightly brushed an errant strand of hair from her face.

A whisper left her, heartbreaking in its clarity.  "Don't leave me . . . not yet . . ."

His breath stopped in his chest, painfully tight as emotions he had tried hard to bury for too long fought for control.  He kissed her forehead and whispered back, "Shhh. . .  Sleep now.  I'm still here."

A smile flitted across her lips, a soft, gentle smile he had never seen before.  Its echo was on his own lips as he breathed in her scent, the mix of sweat and the sweet fluid on his fingers, the gift of her body for the pleasure he had given her.  Siro leaned forward, wanting to taste her lips just once more . . .

And woke up.

His sheets were tangled about his waist, the movement of the fabric maddening against the sensitive skin of his erection.  Siro blinked, shocked and suddenly furious, and leaned back into his pillows.  He growled shortly and pounded one of them.  Damn that Quan Chi!  Why did he have to have that great idea about "borrowing" our bodies?!  And why did Kung Lao have to tell us!?!

He growled again and turned onto his side, trying to avoid the stimulation of the sheets.   It had been so  real!  He could almost still feel Taja's heat, smell her intoxicating scent on his fingers, hear her voice whispering  Don't leave me.  His heart gave a little lurch, a mocking echo of the demanding twitch of his cock.  He wanted her, then and now, more than he would have imagined possible.

When he had saved her life in the woods two days ago, found himself pressed so close against her warm, slender body with the adrenaline of danger coursing through him, he had wanted her.  And when Kung Lao had told them exactly what Quan Chi had been up to (pun intended), he knew that Kung Lao, if not Taja (Thank the gods!) had seen the speculative look in his eyes.  And the smile at the imagery that had come to his mind.

Siro sighed, thinking of things that could never be, and succumbed to the demands of his body after the intensity of the dream.  His hand went to his cock, stroking and imagining  her touch, the sweet imagined clench of her muscles along his shaft, until orgasm swept over him and left him drained and ready for sleep.  This time sleep was dreamless, as empty and unsatisfying as its harbinger had been despite the satiation of his body's needs.

*

Taja awoke with a little sigh, turning instinctively to curl up beside the man who had pleasured her and shared her bed in her dream.  There was no one there.  Taja sat up, startled and disappointed, almost saddened.  Just a dream, she told herself.  And yet it had been so  real -- especially the last part.  The part with Siro, making love to her with both uncontrolled passion, and leaning over her as she slept, bringing her to orgasm with such exquisite restraint . . .

Two such different dreams, seeming to blend in her mind, but both had been real enough so that she could feel the moisture between her legs now as it cooled in the night air.  Usually she awoke from dreams such as this (not that she would admit to having many of them) with unquenched desire in her body and mind, the wetness at her core demanding that she bring herself to the climax the dream had promised and been unable to deliver.  But tonight . . . tonight she felt almost . . . sated.

Confused but a bit grateful, the ex-thief sank back into her pillows and shook her head wearily.  She could readily admit how attracted she was to the other warrior, but she knew better than to hope that he might feel the same.  Perhaps someday . . .  She shook her head again.  And maybe Kung Lao will quit being in love with Jen, or Kitana, and fall for me too.  Be as likely.

Of course, she could count on the fact that her imagination didn't care about the likelihood of either situation.  It still gave her the most enjoyable -- if sometimes frustrating -- dreams.  Perhaps she should do one of those simple spells she'd heard about, a request to one of the goddesses of love that she either get some or get over it.  It was worth a shot, she thought vaguely as she floated back into sleep.

*

The night air watched the two warriors and the third, who had dreams all his own, and chuckled gently.

A figure outlined in star- and candle-light seemed to appear briefly in the area between the three rooms.  She was clad in vibrant green, her red hair every shade of the color from life-blood to flame, a smile of indulgence and amusement on her generous mouth.  She was there for only a moment then, still smiling, she faded from sight and location in a shimmering cascade that matched the shades of her rich hair.  Her cousin would be pleased, she thought, at the plan that was forming in her mind; the dream she'd given the two warriors this night was just the beginning. . .

--Finis--

Sequel

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