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DV

to fling my arms wide
in the same place of the sun,
to whirl and to dance
till the white day is done.
then rest at cool evening
beneath a tall tree
white night comes on gently,
dark like me -
that is my dream!

to fling my arms wide
in the face of the sun,
dance! whirl! whirl!
till the quick day is done.
rest at pale evening...
a tall, slim tree...
night coming tenderly
black like me.

- dream variation
by Langston Hughes

He could only wonder why he felt more, sensed more in the quiet twilight than any of the others did. Perhaps it was because he had no way to otherwise occupy himself, no lover to run back to and no family worth visiting.

Instead, Leon could only think to lay restlessly in a room of the castle, wondering how everyone else could settle into safety despite the falling darkness.

And yet days of growing fatigue and exertation took their toll, forcing Leon to abandon himself to sleep, not dreaming as the cool purples in the sky faded to swirling black.

A sharp bang wrenched Leon from the arms of rest; he was up and on his feet in a split second before looking to his window and realizing it had only blown open, a warm breeze shifting inward to billow the curtains. It was so strangely familiar...

Turning back to his bed, Leon froze, his eyes meeting bright orange. Already wrapped in the thin summer sheets was another body, naked and waiting.

"Lord Ansem..." Leon swallowed hard. Surely this was a dream. All of this was past! All of this was...

"Everyone went back to someone, Squall," Ansem said, his voice deep and low. "Leaving you to sleep alone. Come to me."

Leon gave in too easily, feeling almost in a trance as he obeyed, pulling off the too-loose pajama bottoms he'd found waiting in a drawer for him. In the near-blackness of the room, Ansem was dark, offset by the pale sheets only, looking like a thing found only in dreams, exotic, erotic. Leon crawled beneath the sheets and found himself immediately beneath Ansem, breathing heavily and fighting the arousal that came with regaining a lust thought permanently denied. So many years ago, in the same black night...

Forgetting the seeming impossibility of the encounter, Leon gasped at the already obvious arousal of Ansem's body, falling farther into the spell as he responded, grinding his own body upward, taking every bit of pleasure he could as their bodies met moments before their lips did.

Ansem tasted cool but still very real, living and breathing and parting Leon's legs, working magics only such a scholar would know and easing their coupling as best he could. After so much suffering, Leon could only want the offered oblivion, surrendering himself to that which would delightedly consume him.

Everything else was safe, after all. This was as close to a fitting end as he could ever really imagine.