Alright, this is one lemon that I've wanted to do for a long time. It's inspired by Vycksta's Beautiful Nightmare, which is very well written and awesome, I recommend it to anyone who likes a DawnXDarkrai pairing. I'm also kind of turning up the hotness in this one, just as a bit of a warning to you guys.

Some new stuff has been posted on my profile, so when you get the time, please check it out. Acknowledgements to anyone who has put me on their Favorite Author or their Author Alert list, has placed my two other lemons as one of their favorites or has reviewed my stuff is there. Thanks you guys! *sniffles* You don't know how happy that *sniffle; teary-eyed* makes me! *starts bawling*

*blows nose in tissue* Anyway, I've also posted something on my profile about something really cool in my "Rants of the Author" section. *sniffles* Enjoy the smut my peoples! *starts bawling again* I'm so happy!


The hands were everywhere.

Christine moaned loudly, writhing at the feel of those experienced fingers dancing along her body. There were hands holding her wrists and ankles firmly to where she was eagle-spread and vulnerable to their relentless pleasuring, and more had their fingertips running down her sides and finding those sweet spots that made her skin prickle and her core ache. Two hands were on her breasts, and they were restless as they alternated between cupping and rubbing to pinching and rolling her peaking nipples between their fingers. She keened at the motions as another hand dragged a line from her throat to her navel in a strangely erotic fashion, shivering at the feel of its fingers spreading over the planes of her stomach.

It was nearly too much, the almost overload of sensation. The feel of those hands wandering themselves were carefully loving yet urgent, eager to please but also wanting to be pleased.

She would be glad to join in if those hands on her wrists would release her and ease that throbbing ache at her slit.

Her back arched when one hand traced her spine from her neck to that small space of her back, whimpering when she couldn't even rub her thighs to relieve her dripping heat from that ache. "Please," she begged to whatever entity that commanded these shadow hands, offering her drooling cunt by thrusting her hips up in a wordless plea. "Please!"

Hands that were on her skin suddenly began to disappear, dissolving one by one until only the ones on her wrists and legs were left. She cried out at the loss before she noticed that the hands around her ankles were forcing her legs to bend and part until her heels were touching and her knees were as far apart as they could go.

A pair of hands—these ones much more solid and firm than the others—clasped themselves around her hips and she felt the warmth of another body settle between her thighs.

"Yes~" she hissed, throwing her head back in acceptance of what's to come. Foreplay was over, and she was desperate for something to fill that aching void of her cunt that it had her squirming in this being's hold.

The hands rubbed their thumbs over her skin as a thick tip began pressing against her folds—


Christine shrieked, the force of being abruptly pulled out of her dream sending her to the floor with a loud and heavy thump.

"It's seven-o'clock, and this is Kage with your early morning line-up on ninety-five-point-five the Seviper," the radio continued to blare. "Here's Katy Paras with E.T."

The young woman blinked as she stared at her ceiling, her expression blank as she got over the shock of being pleasured by an unknown figure-slash-sex-god one moment to the pain of falling on the floor the next. When her brain caught up with the fact that she was still hot and bothered and she wasn't going to have a happy ending, Christine groaned, rolled over, and screamed in utter sexual frustration into her pillow that she had managed to drag down with her.

After she finished screaming her pent up frustration, her brown eyes shifted to and glared at the little clock radio on her nightstand that was blinking smugly back at her numbers that said "If you don't get ready now, you'll be late for work."

Christine wanted to send the demonic thing back to where it came from via meat grinder. But she reluctantly passed the temptation on her way to the bathroom, grabbing a pile of clothes and began the process of her morning.

Starting with a cold shower.

A sigh escaped her lips. It was later in the evening, and she found herself in the depths of the Canalave City Library yet again for the fifth time that week after she had gotten off of work at the Poke Mart. The reason why she came here so often was also the reason why she felt so exhausted, frustrated, and everything else that fit into the category of 'not meeting sexual needs'.

Christine had recently moved to the cargo port city nearly a month ago, drawn by the sea and how the night seemed much more mythical here. It probably wasn't smart of her to do so, because of the well-known fact that sleep was often a foreign thing to the residents due to their equally well-known legends that reside on the islands that are just off of the coast of the harbor. Legends that had often make dreams all too real.

It is just because of dreams that she has made visiting the library a part of her daily life. Dreams that are nothing like she has heard of that are caused by the legends that live right off the coast. Dreams that make her wake up gasping, wet, and longing for more.

Christine closed her eyes and rubbed her face. She felt so exhausted lately because of those dreams, as they made her feel like she had sex all night instead of getting the rest she needed. And the nature of it all made her baffled, as none of them were nightmares which were common this time of year or regular dreams that people were able to forget about once they woke up. They felt all too real, as if someone was pleasuring her sleeping body only to disappear when she woke up, and it was driving her absolutely mad.

And it drove her to the library, sitting at a table amongst a pile of books that breached every conceivable theory about dreams—from how one dreams to the meaning of said dreams, to how and why dreams felt real and everything else about them.

Nothing made sense to her. Her dreams were too consistent to be random, too real to be normal, and way too varied to be the same one over and over again. She had no clue if the meanings that the books say that they are about were actually the ones that were right, and she was thinking that her dreams weren't actually dreams at all.

She was just so confused and tired. Christine felt the lull of sleep call to her, feeling her eyes shut heavily and—

Someone was peppering kisses on her shoulder.

She moaned and leaned back against a warm body, loving the feel of a solid figure supporting her as they ran their hands gently down her curves. Her hands still seemed have the inability to move, lifelessly hanging at her sides despite her mentally yelling at them to move.

There was something hot and hard pressing against her ass-cheek and that made her shift at the heat that was pooling in her core. If she could just move a little to the side, bend over, and thrust back, whatever was poking her ass would be in her cunt and the real fun could begin.

As if hearing her thoughts, a strangely cool tongue gave her a lick from shoulder to jaw, chilled breath at her ear and a warm hand cupping her breast. It sent delicious shivers down her spine to make her core weep at the pleasure, and another shift from her caused the hot and hard thing to be caught in the space between her ass-cheeks.

A sudden hiss of escaped breath at her ear and a squeeze of her breast made her smirk in feminine pride.

The person behind her gave a short thrust forward, sending the hot length smoothly between her—

"Wake up, Christine."

"NO!" Her fist gave a sharp thump against the table, frustrated sobs spilling from her lips. "So close…"

Darlene, a middle-aged dark-skinned woman with glasses, patted the younger woman's shoulder sympathetically. "Those dreams again?"

"Those dreams still," stressed Christine, her brown eyes bruised with restless nights glancing up at the older woman pleadingly, "and we were so close! The closest since they've started and you woke me up!"

The black haired female held her hands up in surrender against the seething brunette, an amused but understanding glint in her eyes. "Sorry sugar, but the library's about to close, and I think you should go home and sleep there." She winked, "Your moaning made some of our regulars ran outta here like golbats outta hell." Her mortified look and blush nearly made Darlene break down in laughter. Her dark eyes took in the books on the table, and she indicated towards the stack. "How's the research going?"

The younger woman exhaled heavily, placing her forehead in one hand while vaguely waving at the stack with another. "Every one of them is a dead end saying the exact same thing nearly word for word—'wet dreams are normal'." She rubbed her face in exasperation, "None of these say anything about having dreams of a reoccurring figure that has given me so much pleasure that I haven't been dry in over a week."

"Oh my." Darlene fanned her flushing face, humming as if she had found something delicious. "Oh girlie, you know that if I could take this dream of yours, I would do it in a heart beat."


"What?" the dark-skinned woman blinked at her lighter-skinned companion innocently. "Can't stand the thought of someone sharing your sex god of wet dreams?"

"That's not it." Christine looked around nervously, and then leaned closer to the other woman, "I'm just so frustrated! Most of the time I can't finish what the dream started, and every other time it feels like I'm not even getting half the pleasure."

Darlene nodded understandably, "So you're either frustrated that you can't get off or you didn't get satisfied."


The woman nodded again, and then looked at the brunette straight in the eyes. "Girlie, you need to get yourself a man."

Christine slumped over in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Darlene stressed the next words, "You. Need. A. Man."

The brunette gave a short laugh. "Darlene, you know that I don't fuck on the first date, and I can't wait to get to know the guy just to have sex."

The dark woman shrugged. "Then hire if you can't wait."

"Are you nuts?" Christine whisper-scolded. "I'm not hiring a gigolo. Besides," a slightly lewd smile came unbidden on her lips as she whispered, "I couldn't afford what my shadow man has been doing to me."

The other woman blushed deeply and fanned herself again, an expression on her face that said she was becoming quickly overwhelmed. "Oh please girlie! Tell me no more, or I might not get any sleep tonight."

She laughed and nodded in acquiescence, sparing her friend of any more details. Then she sighed and quickly looked through a random book on the table, figuring it out that it was about the legends of the Lunar Duo due to the pictures and eyewitness accounts. "I just wished I knew the reason why I'm having these dreams."

"Honey, they're dreams. If anyone knew why anyone dreamed, you would already have your answer."

Christine nodded absently, staring at a drawn picture of the darkrai that supposedly causes nightmares that traps people into a never-waking sleep. "Yes, I suppose your right Darlene," she mumbled, her fingers tracing the page as her eyes focused on the fearsome outstretched claw of a hand.

-A warm hand cupped her breast, rubbing it gently as another descended to touch the wet lips of her slit-

Christine shivered in pleasure and hastily closed the book. She stood and looked over at her friend who was gathering the books and nodded in farewell. "I think I'll take your advice and head home. Maybe I can get some actual sleep tonight."

Darlene looked as doubtful as she felt, but she nodded and left her with an armful of books to put back in place.

The younger woman looked up at the late evening sky as she left the library. Seeing that it was well into twilight, she hurried towards the bridge that was straight ahead from her. The sky was at the point where the east was turning a dark purple, and as she looked to the west, she saw that the orange sun had sunk so deeply into the horizon that only a sliver of it could be seen. She sighed at the beauty, as it was one of the few reasons why she moved to the city of ports. The twilight and the night here seemed to call to her, the legends that surrounded this town only making it all the more beautiful to her.

After a few more moments of gazing, Christine continued on her way home with the thoughts of night, dreams, and legends at the forefront of her mind.

"So, you can fly this thing, right?"

Christine watched the scenes on the TV pass despondently. It was finally the weekend, where she didn't have work and she wasn't needed anywhere at anytime for the next two days. She could relax a little now, and go forward with her little plan.

The time read ten-thirty on her DVD player, and a glance at her phone showed that it was off. Her alarm clock was supposedly off, but she decided to sleep in the living room with her bedroom door shut just in case the little demon decided to go off anyways. The door was locked and she was expecting no visitors (but it would be her luck if someone decided to visit her anyways), the thick curtains closed seamlessly at the windows, and she had no landline to worry about.

The next two days were going to be hers, and she was going to take everything out of it.

She glanced at her left and saw the book that she had purchased a couple of days before. She had come across it when a traveling salesperson decided to set up his little shop close to her work, and the title Control Your Fantasy had piqued her interest. The person who wrote it was a doctor who specialized in neural activity of the brain, more specifically about dreams, who had a somewhat-concrete theory that one could control their dream. Naturally, she was drawn to it and just had to buy it.

It was a rather short read, but she couldn't put it down when she began, and it became one of the best purchases that she had ever made.

Basically, the doctor's theory was that for one to control the dream, they have to be aware that they are dreaming. While that is a 'duh' statement, she knew what the doctor was getting at.

Dreams could get and feel real to the point where one could barely tell the difference between it and reality. Christine knew this personally, as her nightly wet dreams felt so real to her that she swore that she could still feel the hands, the lips, the tongue, the heat of the body, or the chilled breath of the being on her person long after she had awakened. She knew that if she spoke of that to anyone, they would probably take her to the nearest priest as it sounded like she's being haunted by an incubus or something of the like.

The book mostly goes into detail about ways that one could practice gaining awareness during sleeping, such as meditating and other such ways that encourage focus of the mind. It also states that people mostly have dreams they remember when they straddle the line of sleep and wake, and when one goes to sleep thinking about a dream they have had or want to have, the chances are that they will have it.

She didn't have the time or the patience to meditate on focus, and she didn't want anyone's help in dealing with her, as Darlene had so eloquently put it, sex god of wet dreams. So she decided to go for the next best thing.

Christine shut the TV off and began lighting the candles that were on her coffee table. The gentle scent of vanilla wafted delicately across her senses, and with no other light the candles placed everything under a gentle glow. With the candles finished, she stood up and untied her dark, silken robe that she had purchased just for the occasion.

And exposed her nude self to the darkness of the room.

She slowly ran the cool silk over her skin, hearing its whisper as it slid sensually down her shoulders. This was her plan, to try to get so aroused and to think about nothing but her own pleasure so that, when she got her nightly visit from her dream lover, she would already be on the brink and would only need that little push the dream would give her to feel the utter satisfaction that she knew was waiting for her.

Her fingertips tracing her collarbone, Christine assessed herself with not only her hands, but with her eyes. She knew that she didn't have the fit, toned body that female trainers had that were her age, but there was no doubt that she was a woman in her prime. She didn't have fat, per say, but she had the curves of a female that kept herself in shape with a good diet and the normal exercise of jogging or swimming whenever she had the time. Her hips were wide, but her waist was small in comparison with narrow shoulders that Darlene often joked that she was jealous over. Her stomach wasn't toned, but it was firm, as well as her thick thighs and calves, and she knew that males (when they manage to notice her out of all the other brown-eyed brunettes in the world) stared at her ass when she walked by. And her breasts, while nothing to brag about as they were only a handful and a quarter in her hands, seemed to remain in perpetual perkiness since her dreams have begun a couple of weeks ago that she struggled to find a bra that would hide the aroused state of her nipples.

But those were the only traits about her that she found aesthetically pleasing to herself and the male populace (as claimed by one of her bitter exes). She had heard compliments about her dark brown hair, but those who claimed to be jealous of her locks were those who had thin and-slash-or straight hair and wished to have full and slightly wavy locks. But her hair was just so full and wild that she didn't dare grow it out any further than her shoulder blades and would gain an unsightly oily appearance if she didn't wash it out at least every other day. It just took so much care and management that she didn't think of it as a plus in her appearance. Her eyes were a 'just brown', neither large nor narrow, eyelashes at a barely noticeable thickness but with no extraordinary length (which she found that she didn't necessarily care for), and brows that weren't bushy but not quite as femininely thin as society advertises. Her noses was slightly crooked because of a childhood accident that she still has the scars to show for, and she could hardly say that she had a 'cupid's bow' mouth or 'pouting' lips. They were just at a fullness that is only brought out or seen whenever she places lipstick on or chews on her lips so much that they appear full and swollen.

Feeling her mood get dampened by her thoughts, she redoubled her efforts on focusing on feeling and not on thinking.

Christine moved her hand that was tracing her collarbone to draw a line to her breast, feeling for the circumference before she cupped it. Nothing.

She frowned, but continued by using her fingertips to ghost the outer edges of her areola as her other hand gently dragged itself over her curves. When that didn't work, she used both of her hands to tease her breasts at the same time. She pinched and rolled her nipples, she cupped and squeezed, but it didn't even cause her to shiver in slightest.

Frustrated with her efforts, she stomped towards the little nest of pillows and blankets that she had made herself earlier on the floor and laid in its softness. She gave a groan and tilted her head back. Her little midnight lover had ruined her for herself, as amazing as that sounded. It wasn't as if Christine was a stranger to the acts of self-pleasuring, and she knew what made her squeal and what turned her off. But it was as if the person in her dreams knew more, knew what it would take and what measures were needed that they had her wet and past the point of no return within the first few seconds of her dream.

She tried to think of what a figment of her dream did that was different, that made all her turn on spots only react to their acts and to only their touch. But all she could recall was how warm their touch was on her skin and how the chilled breath sent powerful shudders down her spine.

A moan escaped her lips as her core began to heat up and itch in that familiar way at her thoughts. Christine blinked, and had a light bulb moment.

"Okay," she whispered to herself, "we'll do it your way."

This time, as her hand began to tease her breast, she imagined that it was her dream lover's hand that was kneading and pinching her nipples. She gave a gasp when her clit throbbed and her breast tightened in response. Her other hand was actually her lover again, his other hand smoothing over her curves only to stop his path in between her spread thighs. The aroused woman bit her lip as her imaginary lover traced his hand around her lower lips and gathered some of the moisture that had leaked out, arching slightly when those wet fingers brushed past her now throbbing clitoris.

A wickedly wonderful idea popped into her mind, and she switched hands as well as breasts.

Christine gave a small yelp and threw her head back as her wet fingers ran across her breast, her mind imagining that it was her lover's cool tongue against her nipple and his chilled breath that made it pucker and tingle deliciously. Her other hand unconsciously went to her dripping slit, her fingers spreading her lips to wet themselves with her juices before she began to rub her clit furiously while her mind still imagined that it was another's hand. It did little to ease the ache between thighs, but she cried out when she gave her nipple a hard pinch, imagining that it was her lover pinching it between his teeth, and arched her back off of the floor as she roughly stroked her clit.

Her breath was harsh and heavy and her eyes closed as she continued to masturbate to the thoughts of her dream lover, her motions needy and urgent as she began to feel some relief from the tension she had been suffering from. It was going better then she thought it would, so good that she was beginning to think she wouldn't need the dream to finish—

Another's hand pushed hers away from her core only to be replaced by a familiar, cool tongue.

She cried out at the shock of the sudden intrusion, but soon began to moan as her midnight lover was tonguing her core then firmly licking her clit. Her hands and arms became immovable once again, the hand that had been teasing her breast lying limply across her ribs and the other at her side. But she didn't think about that, only felt how intense and electrified her nerves were at his touch.

There was no way that her dream lover was human. No human could ever make her feel this good with only a few strokes of his tongue or with a fingertip running over the skin of her thigh. No human could just breathe a cold breath on her stomach to make her quiver in need and want.

It was too real. The breath at her breast was far too real when the figure rose from her core to lap at her breast. The two fingers that were now thrusting into her slit and the third pressing against her magic button was giving her so much pleasure that it couldn't be a figment of her imagination.

And the hot cock against her thigh felt all too real as well.

Awareness pricked her mind. Her fingers twitched.

The being above her paused in his ministrations, as if shocked into stillness. She felt him start to pull away, felt the warmth of his body begin to leave, but a surge of strength made her legs wrap around the waist of whoever was above her. He fell back on her and struggled to be free, but it was too late as she opened her eyes.

A pair of wide, turquoise ones stared back at her through a fringe of white hair.

Christine blinked. "Hello…?"

It—no, he, she reminded herself as she still felt his cock that was now rather close to her entrance—was obviously a pokemon. He had a black, hourglass-shaped body that her legs fit his 'waist' comfortably and a red growth that sprouted from his semi-bulbous chest and around his neck that would cover his mouth if he ducked his head just so. His hair was white and billowed upwards like smoke, twisting and moving in serpentine motions as if carried in an unfelt gale. Her eyes caught the sight of his hand flat against the floor to give him support, and noticed that he only had three fingers, which reminded her that his hand was still stuck between their bodies with his fingers still in her. But she thought that the most intense and beautiful thing that she found about him was the light blue eyes with their white, diamond-shaped pupils that were staring back at her.

If she had to guess, her nightly visitor causing these exhausting but utterly enjoyable dreams was Canalave's legendary darkrai, who was currently trapped by her legs with an expression akin to that of a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

Or, to be more appropriate for the occasion, with his hand caught in her cunt.

Noticing that her not-quite-so-unwelcome visitor hadn't moved an inch since she had opened her eyes, Christine allowed a small smile to form on her lips. "Well, this ain't awkward."

She almost wanted to laugh at the piteously trapped expression in his eyes. "Don't worry, sugar," she had been hanging around Darlene too much if the pet name rolled off her tongue that easily, "I'm not angry, and I won't hurt you."

The darkrai gave her a look that was untrusting and cautious, as if he didn't believe her words.

The nude woman arched a brow in response. "You have just about done everything but fuck me for a couple of weeks now, but you don't trust me?"

His eyes widened and, surprisingly, he started to blush.

She couldn't hold back the bark of laughter and placed her hand on his on the floor. Christine saw him flinch, and smiled wanly. "You're quite the confused one, aren't you?"

The only response he made was to give another pathetically trapped stare.

Knowing that his suddenly shy mood wasn't going to magically go back into 'sex god mode', the brunette sighed and lifted her hand from his. She looked into his eyes and gave a smile, "I'm going to let you go now, but could you not pull out your fingers too quickly?" When her muscles tensed around his fingers, his flush deepened and her smile became slightly pained. "I'm really sensitive down there."

After a moment, he nodded, and her legs came away from his waist. The darkrai kept to his word and didn't pull away immediately, letting his body float away from her to a more comfortable distance before slowly taking his fingers out of her core.

Christine's face pinched and flushed in pleasure, a moan rattling her throat and she panted in the effort that it took not to buck her hips and force his fingers back into her. The twitch of her stomach muscles was the only thing that betrayed her want, but she managed to hold back the urge until the darkrai's fingers left her completely. Her pants made her breasts heave, and she moaned loudly in pain and need when the ache of her core increased significantly. She wanted to continue where he left off, but when her fingers reached her throbbing clit, she cried out in frustration as they no longer gave her relief because she had finally felt the physical touch of her not-dream lover. No other touch would do, not even her own, and she moaned and writhed in the frustration of it all.

Feeling that she was still not alone, the sexually distressed woman opened an eye to a squint and saw that the darkrai hadn't took the chance to leave, and was watching her with an intense gaze. It made her flush and pant in excitement, her own gaze longing and pleading, until she saw his still semi-outstretched hand.

Two of his fingers glistened with moisture.

The sight made her keen sharply, her eyes widening at an unexpected surge of pleasure that coursed through her when she saw his wet hand. It left her breathless, it made her powerless, and she craved more.

The darkrai's eyes brightened to a beautiful aquamarine, the flush gone and his expression became narrow in focus. Seeing that her gaze stayed at his hand, the pitch-black pokemon lifted the fingers towards his face.

Her eyes followed, and focused intently on what his next action would be.

He knew that he had her attention, so he opened his mouth—a feature that was hidden when closed and revealed a pair of fangs when open—and licked one of his fingers clean.

Her eyes pinched closed and she moaned at a high pitch, her mind in a pleasured haze and her hips bucking into the air in a silent plea.

"I trust you."

With her mind still in a fog, it took her a few moments to digest that someone had spoken. She looked up in confusion, and saw that the darkrai was now hovering over her confidently. "Huh?"

The Canalave Legend looked down at her and repeated, "I trust you."

Christine shuddered and closed her eyes at how his voice seemed to strike her to her core. It rumbled gravely and was so deep a pitch that it rattled her rib cage pleasingly. And all those good vibes slithered down her spine and shot straight to her throbbing cunt that drooled more generously. She gasped through her question, "And what are you going to do with that trust?"

His eyes gleamed wickedly. "Finish what I started."

The brunette moaned and writhed on the floor, basking in the pleasure caused by his voice. "Ooh~, just keep talking, honey. I'll get there sooner or later."

He gave a dark, deep chuckle. "I had something else in mind."

Before she even had the chance to utter a "huh?", the darkrai had released his metaphysical legs and kneeled between her thighs. With his hands on her hips, he lifted her lower torso and gave a mighty thrust.

Christine let out a mix between a gasp and a moan as they finally joined, their act hidden beneath the 'skirt' of his body. She could feel that he was on the long side on the human scale, but what was impressive was his girth and how his cock managed to stretch her not-well-used-but-definitely-not-virgin cunt. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he found his rhythm, groaning loudly at each thrust and trying to find purchase to buck her hips in response. She couldn't, of course, so she settled with tensing the muscles in her core in time with his thrusts and managed a grin when he groaned.

The darkrai could barely take it. His eyes were pinched shut and his thrusts became less rhythmic and more erratic. She was cheating, tensing her muscles in such a way that she pulsed around him, and he wasn't going to last much longer if she kept it up, and his pride refused to be the first to cum.

When he opened his eyes, the mythical pokemon was drawn to her swaying breasts that bounced with their actions. He leaned over and, while returning to a rhythm, managed to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

Her responsive moans and huffs were music to his ears.

"Now," she panted, barely able to speak through her moans as her hands entangled themselves into his hair, "that's not fair."

As he didn't need his mouth to talk, he said while his teeth closed around her peak. "No, this isn't."

His three-fingered hands moved from her hips to caress her rump, flattening them on her back before gliding them along her spine all the while his teeth pinched her nipple lightly. The gentle touch and the light pressure sent her into a near-seizure, and she gave a rattling moan as her walls closed down on him.

His eyes widened until he was sure that he was cross-eyed, as her sudden tightness and pulsing muscles around his cock was something he did not expect. The darkrai was forced to let go of her puckered areola and press his face against her heaving chest, giving his own deep groan as he finally allowed himself to release into her awaiting cunt.

Christine merely twitched at the feel of his orgasm, the seed warm but it was how it shot deep and with surprising force that made her moan and clutch at him tighter, her thighs clenching him strongly.

This time, the darkrai didn't mind her grip, but instead closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He felt her fingers as they threaded into his hair, the fingertips massaging his scalp, and he couldn't help but give a small groan at the simple pleasure of being touched. It wasn't until her legs slid down from his and her fingers slowly stilled in their actions that he finally opened his eyes and looked up at his human lover.

With lips parted and breathing slow, Christine managed to look satisfied even in sleep.

The darkrai silently broke out of her embrace and covered her tempting nudeness from the chill of the night, and then melded into the shadows of her room to rest himself and wait for her to awaken.

He did say that he would finish what he started.

Alright, I got to admit it, I watched the Rise of Darkrai while I was writing this and *shudders* boy I'm glad I did! I originally wasn't going to have this darkrai talk, but after hearing that sexy voice, I couldn't resist.

Alright, I hope this meets expectations, and I'm sorry for the long wait! Expect requests to be filled soon!