Title: Brainmelt

Author: EllandrahSylver

Rating: 18 for strong language and vivid sexual innuendo. Light slashyness.

Disclaimer: Nothing but the plot, settings, and "the author" belong to me. The various characters belong to their legal owners, none of whom are myeslf. Don't I wish! I'm just having a bit of fun.

Author's note: The story referenced in this one is my own, "Carpe Concupiscentium". There is also a momentary reference to another fic I haven't published here yet called "The Waiting Room", which will be finding it's way here soon. I'm making fun of myself and my very frustrating writer's block of recent months. Please don't yell at me for the Mary Sue. I'm really rude about myself, and am submitting my self abuse for the entertainment of the populace at large. I've also been reading some lovely slash stories that gave me this particular idea. Please, read and review. You know I love to review, now give me some of my own medicine. *winks*

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The author stared at her computer screen in fury. NOTHING WAS WORKING! She was trying to write a simple fanfic, and the characters weren’t cooperating. Every time she started a paragraph, the boys started trying to shag one another while the girls looked at her like she’d lost her mind. She whimpered. This was BAD! She couldn’t write SLASH! This was supposed to be a het fic! Her pairings were decided, and cemented by magic. So what in blue blazes were those two DOING? Their mates were looking kinda irritated, although the redhead was mildly amused as well. Fair enough, she had been in a gay relationship less than a year prior to this adventure. Of course the slim brunette was just staring in astonishment, and her short blond sister was glaring at the author.

The dour man behind the blond looked faintly sickened, and slightly amused. He would not have expected the author’s mind to have wandered into this area. She was so adamantly hetero in her stories. A tiny crease appeared between his brows as he wondered momentarily what had happened to the author to put her in this rather bizarre frame of mind. Realization dawned. The author, obviously using characters she was attracted to, had stumbled across some story or other that excited her about…he looked at the boys and shuddered. He eyed the author then, wondering if she were planning on anything else. Being characters, none of them could do anything but what the writer’s mind made them do. A frightening thought occurred to him and he grimaced, then shot the author a pleading look. He willed her to write a sentence permitting him to speak. She returned it with a pathetically trembling lower lip. By all that is holy and unholy, woman! Write me some quotation marks. Let me speak aloud, he thought as hard as he could.

The author knew what he was asking, but couldn’t bring herself to grant his request. Every single time she tried to write, those boys started again. It was making her crazy! She needed help, and her friends, the characters she wrote so lovingly about, couldn’t help her. She wanted to work on her long overdue projects, but… they just looked so HOT together in her mind. Her fantasies were interfering with her stories, though, and she needed to get someone to help her fix it. She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could, calling out for a solution with every fiber of her being. That was a mistake. Whether it happened in reality or just in her mind, suddenly the author found herself inside her fantasy world, surrounded by her favorite fanfic characters. She could feel them there, smell them, hear their voices without writing their words. Biting her lower lip hard, she opened her eyes. Yep, they were here. Looking around, she saw them all. All the characters from her main story were in the room with her. Looking decidedly unfriendly.

She coughed. “Uh, hi.”

The blond woman and her tall mate approached her. The blond stopped a foot away and took a lecturing posture. “Why haven’t you been writing? We’ve been waiting for Xander and Spike to get back for months! Over a year, in fact! What’s wrong with you? Not that I’m not enjoying being here, at this point in the story, because hey, got him to keep me busy, but really! You started it, YOU need to keep writing. I’m not too thrilled with you marrying my teenaged sister to smartass over there, either, but you just left them hanging, and now your deluded little mind has him playing tonsil hockey with WILLOW’S man. Fix this, if you please!”

“Um, I… Um…”

Tall, dark, and sarcastic arched an eyebrow. “Are you certain you even wrote the first nine chapters? You are remarkably short on verbiage. Perhaps you have actually lost what little intelligence you possessed at the time when you wrote them?”

The author flushed at the insult, suddenly finding her tongue. “Excuse you very much, Bitchy. I am every bit as intelligent as I have ever been, I’ve just had a lot on my mind!”

He shot a significant look at the two younger men, surprisingly the only occupants of the room unaware of the author’s presence, as they were absolutely focused on finding out just how far down one another’s throat tongues could go. “So I see. So why are you suddenly obsessed with THAT?”

The author blushed. “I… I…” Her eyes drifted to the two young men, and her breathing hitched. They looked so beautiful that way, the blond head thrown back as the dark haired one nibbled and sucked at an alabaster throat. She watched, mesmerized, suddenly unaware of everything else.

Suddenly the blond woman arched an eyebrow. So that was the author’s problem. She turned to her mate and whispered something in his ear, earning a smirk and a nod. Leaving the author frozen in place, the pair returned to the other characters and gave a brief explanation of the situation. The group conferred for several moments, then slipped out of the room, one by one. The redhead stopped to whisper in her mate’s ear, and then left, locking the door behind her. The men pulled apart, and looked directly at the author. She was still standing, stock-still, staring at them with burning eyes.

Eying her, assessing, the darker man looked at his cohort. “Well, what do we do about this, Ferret?”

The blond gave him a look of condescending amusement. “Shouldn’t you be asking HER that? She’s the reason we’re acting this way. Unless you plan to tell me that you’ve harbored a secret passion for me all these years, Scarhead.”

The brunet smirked. “So it’s all the author’s fault then? Funny, I didn’t realize that the Author knew that the waiting rooms existed. I was minding my own business - or rather, I was minding Willow’s business-” the smirk became a leer, “when you came and started kissing me like you were on fire. Sure you don’t have a thing for me, then?”

“In your dreams, Potter.”

“Which I suppose brings us back to what we do about this situation, doesn’t it?” Potter replied, pointedly dropping the subject before they got into a fight. Somehow, he didn’t think fighting in front of the author would help matters any. “It seems that HER dreams are affecting her work, and while I don’t mind spending loads of time with Willow while we wait for the next chapter, there’s only so much one can do with one’s mate in a bare white room. Not to mention the fact that her dreams have generated another waiting room, with another version of the two of us, Sev, that elf bloke - Legolas, and Spike. What she plans to do with them, I can only guess, but for some reason, right now, it’s THIS us that’s acting like poofs, so we have to fix her, Malfoy.”

Malfoy turned his attention back to the author. She was still staring at them. If he had any gold in his pocket at that moment, he’d bet that she hadn’t so much as blinked. Tilting his head to the side, he commented, “She may be beyond help, Potter. She looks frozen. Is she even seeing anything? Or is she catatonic?”

Rolling his eyes, Potter replied, “She’s not catatonic, she just hasn’t been given a proper seeing to in awhile. Draco, she’s sexually frustrated. It’s SO obvious. Why else would her mind be so stuck on seeing two males in intimate positions?”

“She’s a freak of nature?”

“Not hardly. Take a better look. Shallow breathing, glazed eyes, pink face, tense body. If she were catatonic, she wouldn’t look like she was wound tighter than an eight day pocket watch. And her expression is screaming desperation. She needs relief.”

Draco glanced at Potter with an arched eyebrow. “So you’re saying that the reason I’m suddenly finding myself trying to get into your pants instead of Dawn’s is because the author is horny? Harry, that’s ridiculous. If she were wanting sex, she’d be imagining us shagging her, not each other.”

“You’re a little thick, aren’t you. How exactly do you think she ended up here?” Harry gestured. “If you want to test my theory, make a move toward her. Act sexy. Blow her a kiss, or lick your lips at her or something.”

Draco snorted. Harry gave him a meaningful look. Draco rolled his eyes. Looking at the author, he decided to see if Harry was right. Slowly, he raised his hand to his mouth and started tracing his own fingertips with his tongue. The author gasped, and whimpered, her belly hollowing slightly as her muscles contracted. Draco gave Harry an astonished glance. “Bloody fuck, Potter! How long do you think she’s gone without?”

“Ask her. She did Xander’s rewrite in October, but she hasn’t written anything graphic since, so at least that long. I, for one, am glad she changed all that. Those dragons and that whole telepathy thing was just a bit too weird.”

Draco laughed. “Too weird? Have you been paying attention to the rest of this story? And her new chapter for Xander doesn’t say much for her sexual state at that time either. I’d say she was already into this dry spell when she decided on that particular bit of kink. Honestly, his mate’s not even human! Cross species porn writing does not a satisfied writer show.”

“So, now we know what we need to do to fix this problem.”

“You’re not suggesting that we…”

“’Fraid so.”

“But, it’s impossible! She’s the author… we’re just characters. And not even HER characters, we’re FANFIC characters!! Jo would have a fit!”

“Actually, Jo doesn’t mind sharing her creations, as long as no one tries to steal us outright for profit.” Harry cocked his head. “I thought you knew that?”

“Yeah well, I’m not in the habit of keeping track of Jo’s opinions. I’m just the teenaged prat who adds direct conflict to your daily life in the books. She wrote me so one dimensional! I could-”

Harry sighed. “Draco, focus. You were created, and you were created by a woman who doesn’t mind sharing you, so you are more multidimensional than any privately kept character. Right now, we have to do something about THIS author, or she will have us fucking each other to death before this story ever gets finished.”

Draco’s mouth worked silently for a few seconds after Harry stopped lecturing him. Then he shook his head violently. “Thank you ever so much for that disturbing vision, Potter. I didn’t need to see us having sex with one another. I’ll stick to shagging my wife, if you don’t mind.”

Harry grinned. “I don’t mind at all. I’m not terribly interested in your pasty arse anyway. My Willow is much more interesting to me.”

Draco sighed. “So how do we do this?”

“We know her imagination pretty well, we just do what she would write. And we do have our wands, or hadn’t you noticed that?” Harry turned to the author and waved his wand at her, whispering, “Somnium Genero”. The entire room rippled and changed. The two men looked around in amazement. This author had very specific dreams.

The room looked like a dilettante’s paradise. Music played from an unseen source in a large pentagonal space completely filled with sex themed furnishings. One entire wall was a window that overlooked an ocean, rolling gently with moonlight dancing on each wave. The entire ceiling was a gargantuan mirror. Another wall was made of glass, behind which, three white tigers paced. That raised eyebrows. A massive bed rested against the third wall, and the fourth sported manacles and a large stone fireplace. The fifth wall was adorned with racks upon racks of toys. In front of the window, sunken into the floor, was a pool of water the size of the staff bath that had been made use of in her story already. The water was circulated through a small waterfall at one end. The corner between the window and the cat cage was occupied with a full wet bar and a large refrigerator. Just to the left of the fireplace stood a stone slab that could only have been a bondage altar. Everything in the room screamed sex, and money.

When they looked at each other, both of their mouths dropped open. They were dressed as slaves. Wide black leather collars without visible fastenings circled their necks. That was the only thing that was the same for both of them, however. Draco was barely dressed in a tiny black leather loincloth and a silver chain hung from his neck, on which hung a large medallion of a dragon and a scorpion, wrapping around the sides like a yin-yang. Harry had been outfitted with skintight, butter-soft black leather pants that hugged the underside of his hips and showed off every line of his body as if he weren‘t wearing anything, biker boots and a leather vest that was artfully unlaced.

Draco sputtered. “For fuck’s sake, Potter! Why did your spell leave me almost naked?”

“My guess? This is what she wants you to be wearing. The spell was literally ‘create the dream’. Apparently, this is it. I half expected us to both be naked. She’s creative, I’ll give her that.” He eyed the blonde. “It could be worse. She could have dressed you in some ridiculous costume. That one just screams ‘fucktoy’. She COULD have envisioned you as wearing a harem outfit or something.”

“Thanks so much again, Potter. Well, let’s get this done then.”

For the first time since Harry cast the spell, they looked at the author. Silver and green eyes widened and two sensual male mouths dropped open. The author was dressed in a fashion that left absolutely no doubt as to her intentions. Chrome-studded black leather encased her body in the form of a bustier and matching panty. A belt at her hip held a coiled bullwhip, handcuffs, and a small but wicked looking dagger. Her legs were encased in boots that rose to the tops of her thighs, the section of skin between the panty and the boots a mere handspan. The boots ended in several inches of stiletto heel and three inches of platform sole, causing the already tall woman to tower over them by half a foot. Her face was made up dramatically, accenting the full lips, high cheekbones, and hungry eyes. The waist length hair had been confined into a tight braid down her back. Leather gloves covered her arms to just above her clearly defined biceps.

Her expression and body language made it abundantly clear that she was well aware of the changes. Her eyes had taken on the glitter of a predator on the hunt, and a cruel twist gave her grin an evil tone. Her stance was utterly dominant, and radiated lust. Gone was the starved look and the uncertainty. For the first time since the other characters had left, she spoke. “Hello, Harry. Hello, Draco. I’m so glad you figured it out. I knew that if I gave you enough time, that you would make my dreams come true. I know I can’t keep you, but I CAN play with you. You were right, Harry, your outfits both scream fucktoy. Kinda the point, isn’t it?” Her gaze turned on Draco, and she smirked. “Getting this done will take awhile. I have been alone since July. Think you’ll be able to keep up?”

Draco returned the smirk. “It’s your dream, luv. I can keep up as long as you imagine I can.”

“Point, LUV. Let’s get the rules established here, shall we? You are both to refer to me as Lady or Goddess. Nothing else will be answered to with anything but pain. You obey orders immediately. Any questions?”

“Yes, Lady.”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“Excellent. Now, what shall we do first?” She pretended to think. Then the games began. The activities lasted several hours, ending with the three of them tangled in an exhausted heap of naked flesh and sheets on the giant bed. The author drifted to sleep with an absolutely satiated smile on her lips.



When she opened her eyes, the screen of her computer was dark, and the light of morning was shining through her window. Blinking sleepily, she smiled to herself. {What a dream}, she thought. {It was so real!} Tapping the spacebar on her computer, she waited for the machine to wake up. When it finally did, she goggled at the screen. There, at the bottom of a story she didn’t remember writing, was a picture of the room from her dream, complete with the three of them, her snuggled between Harry and Draco, smiling sleepily. Across the bottom were the words, “We’re always here if you need us“, and signatures in two totally different and unmistakable male hands.

Looking at the image of herself, she noticed the marks and lovebites acquired from the many hours long romp. She leapt from her seat and scurried to the bathroom. Her reflection shocked her. Livid hickeys adorned each side of her neck, and she was wearing a leather vest, panties, and the medallion that had been part of Draco’s ensemble.

{Was it real?}

She returned to her desk, saved the unremembered story, and settled in to write a long overdue chapter for her “big” story. This time the characters behaved themselves.



FINIS