Erven was sound asleep, but his sleep was far from restful. The darkness that enveloped him felt as if it were alive, like a breathing creature, squeezing his body in a heavy wave that slowly suffocated him. Shadows crept through his mind, wrapping around his chest like a fine rope tightening, whispering an incomprehensible threat. Every instinct screamed for him to wake up, fight, escape, but his body was stiff, heavy as if bound by something invisible.
From the darkness that swallowed everything, a figure emerged. Tall. Sturdy. His aura was so strong that the air around him seemed to bend, pulling Erven even though his entire soul resisted. The man's gaze, his greenish-brown eyes, sharp, hunting, locked directly on Erven, triggering subtle vibrations along his spine. Erven tried to look away, tried to turn away, but it was as if there was a force holding him back, making his chest tighten with a mixture of fear and a strange, pervasive feeling, warm and dangerous.
Before he could organize his thoughts, the man's hand had grabbed him. Strong. Firm. Not giving him room to fight. The grip felt like a shackle, but there was something too intimate, too… familiar. His fingers traced Erven's collarbone, down his fragile shoulders with a touch that shouldn't have made him gasp for breath.
Then came the first kiss.
Not soft. Not hesitant. Not just touching.
It was greedy. Urgent. Taking all of Erven's attention without giving anything in return. Panic jolted his chest, but beneath the fear, a heat began to burn through every nerve, arousing sensations he had never had before.
Erven tried to push, tried to break free from the man, but his grip tightened. And strangely, the harder he tried to push, the stronger an unknown fire burned within him, a painful fire, but one that made his heart beat in an unstoppable rhythm.
The man pressed his body against his, his hands tracing the sides of his stomach, his chest, every delicate line of Erven's body as if he were demanding it, possessing it without permission. Each touch ignited a new spark, mixing fear with something too captivating, too deep that he himself was confused whether he should scream or surrender.
Erven's breathing became irregular, intermittent in the pitch darkness. The man's lips moved, leaving a hot trace on his jaw, his neck a touch that made his knees weak and his voice broke in a strangled moan. Half of him wanted to break free. The other half… wanted to drift away.
Time blurred in the dream. The man held him tightly, so close that Erven could feel his strong and steady heartbeat, contrasting with the chaos within himself. The man's scent was sharp, intoxicating filling all his senses, making his mind blur between fear and desire that could not be explained in words.
Then with a jolt Erven woke up.
The room was silent. Faint. There was no trace of the chaos from his dream. But the dream… was not over yet.
He stood there.
The same man. The same face. The same sharp, burning eyes, as if dissecting straight into his soul. And the man's hand was still raised close to the nape of his neck, as if he had just pulled him out of a dream.
Fear squeezed his chest, making his voice choke. But beneath that fear, another pulse began to pound—the pulse of desire, the pulse of longing for something he shouldn't desire. Erven covered his mouth, his body shivering.
"Arghhh… ah… ahhh..." His breath caught in his throat. "That… that was just a dream… huh… why did I dream like that? A man… kissing me… touching me… strangling me… What exactly is happening to me?!"
Erven's voice trembled, breaking at the end of the sentence between horror and something he didn't dare admit.
In the silence, his lips finally released the most terrifying words—because they were born from his own heart.
"I… I hope I see him again..."
His hands trembled.
"Maybe… maybe he can protect me. Maybe he can… care about me. Really care. I… I want someone like that…"
The room remained silent. Only his heavy breathing echoed in the air. But inside his body, something had awakened. Something primal, deep, and inextinguishable.
Throughout his life, Erven had been a recessive omega that no one had seen, hidden, never possessed. But that dream, that touch, that gaze… rekindled the fire that had been extinguished for so long. A demanding, urgent fire that made his soul seek that figure unconsciously.
Erven collapsed back onto the bed, his body still shivering, his skin still covered in cold sweat. The shadow of the dream seemed to still wrap around his body. But this time, he didn't fight. Didn't refuse.
Because deep down, he knew and that knowing made his whole body ache that he wanted that man. Wanted his presence, wanted his touch, wanted the power that made him feel seen and appreciated for the first time.
And when sleep embraced him again, dark and heavy, one thing remained burning inside him:
That longing. That desire. And the shadow of the man that seemed to have already begun to carve a new shape in his soul slowly, deeply, and indelibly.