Who you gonna call? [CLOSED]

[resurgir]

[ He's had this dream before. It's one of his better ones; an expensive spa, or a hotel, or a traditional hotspring, a real one, not the fake tourist ones that were all over, and - a girl. The girl, literally, of his dreams.

She's curvy, nice and plush in all the right places, but toned, like she eats well, but works out a bit, too? And she's falling out of her top, literally falling out, and he can watch the dip of her cleavage and that warm hollow in the shadow, the place where he wants to pus his face. She's wearing a bathing suit, or just this ridiculous little t-shirt, and he can see her nipples - pink, definitely pink. She's smiling the whole time, too, and she's got a great laugh, and she's able to undo his shorts with her teeth. It only takes a few glorious seconds for her to get them off.

That's what sticks with him when he wakes up. The shorts bit, except its his sweatpants that are missing, and he can feel a breeze from his hefty desk fan blowing across his bare legs. Despite the air, it's hot in the room, and when his eyelids pry open he could almost swear that for a second he saw a fucking heat shimmer.

The hell...is - ] Going on?

[ A jiggling of his legs tells him they're not totally bare; his pants are bunched up below the knee, though hell if his seriously drowsy mind can figure out why. He reaches down, half-blind in the darkness, to try and pull them back up. ]