No rest for the wicked.

Another odd mid-morning dream involving William Beckett. The rest of the majority involves Tasha so I’ll spare you the details, nobody wants to hear about her I’m sure and I don’t want to think about her. It pisses me off that I’m dreaming about her. At least William was there. He’s like a little bit of Marena to me. Only a little.
So, the William Beckett part of my dream. My garage door was open so I went to close it but the police were there with crime-scene tape. The yellow kind with CAUTION written on it, meant to keep your interest away but usually doesn’t work. I frown and look at the police officer. There are two squad cards in my driveway and a bus, with William Beckett and Michael Guy Chislett leaning against it and staring at me.
Like I’m interesting, right?
So anyways. The police officer walks into the garage and looks at me. And I think he means to arrest me but I don’t know.
“Ma’am,” He says. “We received a call that there’s been a murder in this house.”
“Not that I know of,” is my immediate response. But I shrug aside and let them in, stumbling into my garage afterwards. It’s freezing but I don’t shiver. And before I know it William’s walking up to me and wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Hey.” He says and I blush. Even dream-William makes me blush.
“Hey.” I mutter back.
“I needed an excuse to see you. But I figured we’d just stop by and see what was going on.”
My heart beats faster. “Really,” I respond and smile up at him.
“Yeah.” He grins down at me, but then he’s frowning. “We have to go in a couple minutes, though. I think we’ll be back later.”
He leans down and presses his lips against mine, briefly, only for a second, but enough for me to feel queasy, light headed, and want to faint. I smile against his lips, my hand sliding from his hip downward.
…And I grab his ass.
YUMMY William Beckett dreams.