applesaucedream | A Day Late and a Dollar Short

Current Music: April 3, 2013

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A Day Late and a Dollar Short

As far as dreams go, this seems surprisingly...normal. True, the dreamers of Manhattan and beyond will find themselves stranded in the middle of the ocean on a fairly deserted rocky island, but it's nothing so unusual as the labyrinth from last time, and no one appears to have become an animal or reverted to an insane past (or future) version of themself. Besides, well, rocks and grass, there's nothing here but an abandoned lighthouse, the doors and windows broken, and the spare furniture worn by the weather. You can go up the spiral staircase to look at the view, but there's nothing to see but the endless ocean. One might almost think tonight was a night for simple socializing via the telepathic current.

As if anything to do with the rift is ever that simple, you silly bumpkin. How quickly each person realizes what is unusual about tonight's dream will depend in large part on their personality. Some might go the entire night without noticing (except from the distress of others, naturally), but some will find out the instant they open their mouths to converse with another dreamer. You see, each and every dreamer will be completely unable to tell a lie for as long as the dream lasts. The truth might be evaded by omission, but any attempt to say that which is untrue will result in the corresponding truth emerging instead.

Good thing it's just a dream and everyone's going to forget in the morning, right? Right??

[Mod note: As usual, players can choose to have their characters remember or forget anything that happens in the Dreaming. As per usual party rules, both members and non-members are welcome to play any character in this post, regardless of whether that character is currently in the game. Unlike usual, tonight's theme is not optional; all characters will be subject to the enforced truth-telling. Have fun!]

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More important things? Peter gapes at her. "Wow," he says, summing up all his feelings about Lucy's priorities in one semi-sarcastic word. "Just wow."

Sniffing, he tries to remember if Gabriel spilled any other juicy secrets before he clammed up. Sadly, not so much. "Apparently he chose to look like that," he says, recalling, "And he really was Loki, but that was just an identity he put on to hang out with the in-crowd."

Lucy nods and makes notes about those things regarding Gabriel. Apparently Norse gods are the in crowd now? Alright.

"And don't wow me, I was" angry "scared." She pauses and makes a face. "I mean, that you'd" freak out "break up with me."

Lucy mentally swears, letting go of Peter's hand again, turning away in embarrassement. Sure, Peter doesn't want to break up, quite the opposite, but she'd be happy to maybe stop confessing her fears now. But apparently that's not going to happen.

Apparently. Also, Peter is never, ever going to admit that Loki was one of his favorites. Also, he should have asked about the horse thing, since he's never going to have as good an opportunity again.

"And that's more important than finding out one of our friends is in the Bible?" That's kind of a big deal, Lucy, come on. "...Fuck," he says thoughtfully, and kisses her on the back of the head since she's gone and turned away.

Lucy can't help but smile a little, despite the embarrassement and annoyance at this dream. "Do you realise you use swearwords to comfort?" she asks, amused despite herself, and leans into him.

She sighs heavily. "How about we just don't talk until we wake up?" she suggests. Neither of them want to be this painfully honest.

He uses them for everything; they're versatile, okay? He chuckles into her hair in return and gives her shoulder a full-arm squeeze. "Yeah," he agrees. "That sounds like a good plan."

Of course, not talking is kind of boring on such a boring island. Lucy looks around, wondering if there's anything besides rocks. She's seen a lighthouse in the distance, but that's about it.

"...We could have dream-sex again," she suggests. To celebrate their exclusivity. Also because the physicality is way easier than the emotional stuff. Presuming they kind find somewhere marginally private.

"Out here?" grins Peter. "Kinky."

Less kinky is the idea of sex on a bunch of uneven rocks. Beach sex would be great, except the beach here is an ugly, rocky thing like the rest of the island.

"Hopefully we can find somewhere out of the way," she says with a smile, taking Peter's hand and pulling him with her. It's a dream, it probably won't be as bad as if they were having sex on actual rocks. And it's not like they haven't had sex in a few weird places already. It's part of the fun of neither of them being particularly shy or embarrassed about sex.

Peter bruised his arse pretty good on these dream rocks earlier. Of course, it stopped hurting immediately after he did it, so maybe 'bruised' isn't the word. "Crashing surf, seagulls, sand in awkward places -- that's downright romantic, for us." Truth. Apparently.

"The sand will disappear when we wake up," Lucy answers with a grin. "And we want it gone before then, we could always go skinny dipping. How's the water?" She's not completely serious about that, because it looks like it might be a bit cold -- the island itself isn't exactly sweltering, but maybe that's the wind.

"Fucking cold," replies Peter immediately. Yes, Lucy, he's been in it. Don't ask him why. You're not seeing me naked when I'm that cold. "I don't want you seeing me naked when I'm that cold."

"Maybe not skinny dipping then," she answers with an amused grin at his threatened pride. "Although you do realise I've seen you naked plenty of times. It's not like you need to impress me. I know what's down there," she says, reaching over to grab his crotch to make a point.

And he puts his hand over hers and holds it there for a few seconds, grinning at her. "Let's stick to seeing me at my best," he says decisively nonetheless.

Probably "Definitely too late for that," she says teasingly, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, before going back to scouting for somewhere private.

Soon enough they come across a mostly hidden, large crevice, more than spacious enough for the two of them. And there's grass too, which means slightly softer ground, plus they're sheltered from the wind, so it's not cold. Perfect. Well, as perfect as you can get on a rock in the middle of the sea.

...Wasn't this why they said they were going to stop talking? It doesn't help that he's not at all sure that wasn't what she meant to say.

The crevice is almost suspiciously perfect, which would worry Peter if this weren't a dream and he wasn't about to get some. Surely the rift can be just a little bit cooperative now and then. He leads the way inside, even offering Lucy a hand so she can step in after him.

"Here's a thought: every time we get thrown together in one of these dreams, we just do this right away," he suggests.

It's hardly a secret that Lucy's seen Peter at... well, not his best. But that's true the other way around too. Lucy wasn't particularly charming when she got sick, for example. (And that's not the only time she's gotten a cold either. Must be the spring weather.) Honestly, it's more flattering that they've stuck together despite being kind of crap company from time to time.

"Excepting times we get turned into animals," she points out with a smile, taking his hand to follow him. Snake/bat sex would've been just wrong.

"Even if we're the same kind?" Have an eyebrow waggle and a laugh of genuine amusement. Because yeah, snake and bat sex seriously would not have worked -- but say they'd both been dogs. Call of the wild, right?

"I'll consider it if it happens," she answers, rolling her eyes at him, though she can't help but grin at the same time.

"We agreed we weren't going to talk though, didn't we?" she asks, wrapping her arms around Peter's neck and smiling up at him. Because no talking and just having sex is the best way to deal with getting over emotional turmoil. The happy revelations of their conversation have started actually sinking in.

She's said it, she must really mean it. Peter lets out a sound halfway between a chuckle and a growl as he runs his hands down her sides and ducks in for a rough kiss. "No talking," he agrees in a brief pause.

Lucy weaves her fingers firmly into Peter's hair, returning the kiss and pressing up against him, then insinuates her leg between his, hitching up her skirt a bit in the process.

After a little while, she lets go of him (though doesn't pull away or really stop kissing) to reach down and lift her skirt and pull down her underwear. Stepping out of it and lifting her leg to pluck the panties off one ankle, she then tucks them into the front pocket of Peter's leather jacket with a grin.

God, he loves this. Peter insinuates his hands under her shirt, rucking the hem up around her belly as his fingers quest upwards. She can probably feel him pressing against her through his trousers, already ready to go.

Feeling a tug on his jacket, Peter breaks the kiss and looks down in mild confusion. Seeing what she's done, he laughs and nips her lip, then extricates a hand from her clothing to reach down and unzip himself. His trousers are too tight to get things out in the open just by opening his fly, though, so he gives up on exploring her torso entirely (at least, for the moment) and hooks his thumbs in the waistband to push trousers and pants down just far enough to free his length.

Lucy pulls them both up against the rock wall, so that it can take some of her weight as she pulls up her skirt and Peter lifts her, her legs wrapping around his hips. One arm's around his neck, and the other's reaching down between them to help guide him inside her. She moans into his mouth as he pushes inside.

This would probably be a lot more strenuous and uncomfortable if this wasn't a dream, but as it is it just happens to be really fun.

There's a bit of shuffling as Peter gets a good grip on her thighs and tries -- if not to help -- at least not to hinder her efforts to align them. This being a dream, there's no twinge in his back at lifting her weight, no uncomfortable poking as she guides him in. There's just the smooth, firm slide into her wet heat, Peter letting out a growl of satisfaction as he pushes all the way in. Muscles of his back flexing, he withdraws, then pushes again, slowly starting the familiar rhythm.

Gabriel has been wandering around the (very limited) dreamscape ever since he discovered that it's not letting him wake up. Idly, he wonders if there's a timer somewhere, or a score card waiting for the appropriate number of secrets told before he's allowed to leave. Though he had been hoping for the TARDIS' arrival when he'd first appeared, he's fairly glad now that she hadn't had the opportunity to use the dream against him...though he's not sure that she would have.

Thinking on this, and in an increasingly grumpy mood, he circles around the island, then wanders down to the beach, wondering if there's a rowboat somewhere. That's about when he hears the moan, quickly followed by...that is definitely Peter. The sight when he walks around the corner is more than enough to lift his spirits.

He briefly considers walking away and leaving them to it, but what fun would that be? He's in need of the distraction. "This a private occasion, or can anyone join in?"

Honestly, just as they're starting to have fun. Lucy's too distracted by their activities to notice Gabriel until he speaks, and then she's too distracted by Gabe to notice their activities.

"Fuck," she mutters into Peter's ear, pushing at him to let her down.

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