I didn't dream. Well I did, but I don't know if sitting in a moonlit meadow having a giant tongue lick the side of your face counts. It felt warm and rain-soaked wet and a little rough, all together disgusting. It was strange because I could never remember actually feeling anything in my dreams before.

My eyes snap open when I hear a familiar warm velvet voice reprimand something or someone.

"Malcifer! Stop that, now," the voice was demanding without having to full on shout. Even though I wasn't this Malcifer, I wanted to completely stop even my breathing.

Of course now I realize I still feel a tongue on my cheek, a big slobbery one. My eyes widen comically in fear when I turn them to see a huge black fur covered head and floppy ears and big reddish brown eyes staring straight at me. He's stop licking me but a massive blackish pink tongue lolls outside his mouth dripping a big glob of saliva onto my shirt-covered shoulder. His breath is really foul and smells, for some odd reason, like burning sulfur.

I cough and turn my head away.

"Ah, you're awake."

I turn back to see the dog pulled away and Mr. 14C himself standing over me.

"Sorry about, Mal, he's just excited for a visitor," he says and I see a trace of a smile. It's as if there is one hiding underneath the stoic demeanor just begging to burst out.

I'm about to say its okay but I notice that he isn't wearing a shirt. He's pretty lean and I would call him malnourished if it wasn't for the muscles underneath tight pale skin. There is even a small trail of dark hairs leading into his leather pants he still has on. The button on them is undone though. I don't know what comes over me but I totally freak out. I jump up to my feet somewhat clumsily and push back onto the back end of the sofa I have been laying on. A dark turquoise throw slips off me and crumples to the floor and my hands stick to the wall ready to kick this guy in the face if he tries anything.

The whole time I have been shouting and rambling, "Oh my God! Are you going to rape me? Please don't! Go away! I don't want to die! Don't chop me up into little pieces!" It goes on like that for a few minutes. I mean I have a right to freak out, yes?

My supposed rapist merely clasps his large slender palms on either side of my face and looks me directly in the eyes. I stop almost immediately as if he just hit a switch. I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to. His hands are icy cold as if he just stuck them in a bucket of ice water and I shiver hesitantly moving my own hands up to grip his wrists. This time I watch in awe as he shivers and closes his eyes, he pulls away right after. I wonder if my hands are cold too and I touch my face where his hands had been, but they are fairly warm. I continue to stare at him.

He opens his eyes and speaks slowly, "Calm down. I am not going to rape you. You passed out in the hall and I just brought you inside my apartment to wait for you to wake up so I might find out where you belong, kid."

"Oh," I frown and look down at the throw on the floor. "So you're not going to store me in little pieces for the winter?"

This time I get a brief smile and a short laugh out of him as he shakes his head. "No I am not going to do that."