One Magical Night

(This is going to be exactly like Dream #2 from the beginning. It is supposed to be the same scene, only one major difference. Kaner is accepting!)

Aaralyn was in a beautiful white wedding dress, like the one from her dream. Her hair was done up nicely for a special circumstance. And she had flowers and a veil on her head, in her red curly locks. She stood on a platform, before a massive brick house. She seemed to be waiting for someone. It was windy outside and it bothered her deeply.

Of all the days for the wind to blow, this was the most inopportune one. She knew that he wouldn’t be annoyed if her hair was out of place. But she had taken great care to arrange it just so. This was a big day for them both. And she wanted to look nice for him. With a sigh, she briskly walked up to the front door, stepping out of the stiff breeze.

This door had always seemed a portal to her. A portal to a world, where her fears and her worries were taken from her. She took a deep calming breath, and reached out to quickly knock on the door.

Suddenly, before she could touch the knocker on the door, it was forcefully opened from inside. She gave a startled squeak, and gazed at the man standing there. He looked at her, a strange gleam in his eyes. With a slow and practiced care, he let his gaze slide over her face, through her hair, down across her breasts, which strained at the thin clingy fabric which the dress, she wore, was made of.

The man let nothing show on his face, which was normal, as he continued to inspect her, looking for one thing out of place. Never saying a word, only his eyes moved, as his look swept across her torso, and down each leg to the beautifully manicured toes in each of the stiletto heels she wore.

With an achingly slow motion, he had used many times before with her, his gaze returned to her face. His eyes were like bright brown rays, searing into her soul, wiping away her doubts. The sight of the man standing before her excited her, and caused the shaking in the pit of her stomach to jump to a fevered pitch.

“Well, Jon…” she finally whispered.

After what seemed a very long time, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and moved aside of the doorway, inviting her in. He finally gave her the charming smile that she loved so much.

Trying to contain her excitement, she stepped into the house. The heels of her shoes gave a strange clicking knock sound on the tiled floor, as she took a step into the room and stopped. She listened to the door as it gave a soft, yet terrifying click of closure, as if to say 'Here you shall never leave'.

And never leave she would. Because it was Jonathan Toews. And Jonathan Toews was hers.

He stood behind her and continued to gaze at her, sweeping his eyes again through her hair, making a mental note at the way it lay on her shoulders. The wind had already left its mark on her. Soon he would add his own. And she would add her own mark to him.

Her hair was dark in color, highlighted with red wisps and styled in a very attractive cut. He let his eyes take in the white color of the dress, fit snugly across her body, shaping her petite figure underneath. He tried not to be in a hurry, as he looked down across her beautifully shaped legs and behind.

If she had been looking at him, she would have seen the tightening of his facial muscles, as he looked longing at her rounded butt. The way the dress hugged her curves and shape always drove him mad with desire, even in this wedding dress. And she liked it. She had first found this out when they had met the first time. They’d almost instantly fell in love with one another.

The fragrance of her perfume, a mix of her desire and lavender, floated on the air. He had told her that she was only to wear her favorite spray, as if she ever wore another. The smell of her seemed to ignite his desire, within. She could see him sweating a tiny bit with anticipation.

He knew that they had all the time in the world, if that is what they wanted. But he liked to give the impression that he might be impatient with her. It was all part of the silent ritual; this was the reason she had given herself to him so completely. That and the fact that he was a smoking hot hockey player.

He wiped an instinctive smile from his lips; the thought of what lay in store for them this evening lay heavy on his mind.

With a practiced carelessness, he held out his hand and simply pointed toward the side room. She turned her head and started toward the doorway. She knew that she shouldn’t keep him waiting; he wouldn’t be patient for long.

This room had a variety of furniture and accessories in it. There was a place to hang up a person’s coat, and a row of stand hangers for a person’s clothing. There were dressers full of different types of underclothes, and a huge mahogany vanity, for touching up make-up and hair.

She sat down and awaited his return.

After several painful seconds, he returned to her. He walked in, dressed in a black suit and tie. He looked very gentlemanly, as he slipped up to her, grinning from ear to ear. He slipped his arm out, bowing to her. She gingerly accepted the gesture and slipped her hand around his. They linked arms, as he led her back out of the room.

They headed to the back of the house and exited. In the backyard, a boxy wedding arch decorated in Blackhawk colors stood, streamers billowing in the windy Chicago air. A preacher’s podium was position in the center, in front of the arch. And an audience, complete with white church pues lined the grass.

In the pues, sat dozens of family, friends, and relatives. Jonathan’s entire Blackhawk squad was there, grouped together. Aaralyn giggled, as she saw them hooting and hollering at him. Including the blonde haired man.

Patrick Kane.

He was on his feet, smiling largely, and he had his arms up, clapping in approval. He looked super happy for them both and he gaze catcall whistles. He joined in the celebration and he made Jonathan’s eye contact, with a reassuring wink. She was proud and warmth spread through her, as she realized that he okay with everything. He was truly happy about his best friend getting married.

The two walked down the red carpet, aisle, beaming largely and blushing as all the other Blackhawks in the audience joined in with the whistles and catcalls. “Get some, Tazer!” and “Sick!” and “She’s a babe, good job Captain Serious!” rang out all around. They reached the end and turned to one another. They took each other’s hands.

The preacher read the vows and said the familiar words. They said “I do” and when he finally got to the question, “If anyone is opposed to this marriage, let him speak now.” No one made any movement.

This time Patrick remained clapping and happy. He didn’t oppose them. He was all for them getting married.

The service resumed and Jonathan confessed his love for Aaralyn, and she for him. They kissed and were announced “husband and wife.” They broke apart to the cheers and loud hoots from the Blackhawks in the audience.

Jonathan snatched the microphone from the priest’s hands and spoke into it. “I just want to thank someone very special to me real fast. I have to say a huge thank you to my best friend Patrick Kane! Kaner, you’re awesome and though you may get on my nerves sometimes, I’m glad to know you and call you my best friend!”

Aaralyn felt her lips quiver and her mouth form the word, “Awe.” It was super sweet. She watched as the shaggy blonde haired player got to his feet once more and pointed out at Jonathan, who pointed back. They were two of a kind, Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane. But she loved them both! And she would have to introduce Patrick to her friend Christina. She had promised, after all.

They began to dance and celebrate, partying into the late afternoon to country hits that were DJ-ed by Marian Hossa and Kris Versteeg. They danced to the first song, which was a favorite of Aaralyn’s, “Should’ve Known Better” by: Richard Marx. Jonathan did his “Tazer Moonwalk” and battled three rounds with the “Kaner Shuffle”. Aaralyn laughed and enjoyed herself, stepping to the side.

At one point the Blackhawk captain grabbed her hand and led her onto the makeshift dance floor, bowed to her and dedicated a slow dance to a song. The Blackhawks around them backed away and teased him with the catcalls, like teenage boys. She blushed deeply as he dipped her down, making her long, curly red hair glance across the wood. Then he swung her back up into his arms and gave her a passionate kiss, that made her leg pop upward behind her.

The scene changed, as Aaralyn found herself back in the front side room. She rapidly donned her dress, excitement flooding through her, as she hung it with a care on the rack. He liked it when she left looking just as good, as when she had arrived. She left the stilettos on; any woman knew that a man truly appreciated the way a woman’s behind looked in high heels.

Her bra was part of a matching set, bought at an expensive boutique on one of their rare shopping trips. She stopped and glanced at her reflection in the mirror, overlooking the vanity. She did like the way the bra and panties fit her curves. The material was of Japanese silk, very soft and quite sheer.

Certainly nothing was left to the imagination, she thought.

Fortunately for her she wasn't embarrassed by nudity. And she was eager for the famous hockey player to finally see her. The outer lace of the garments were hand stitched, and seemed to have been made with her figure in mind. She left the undergarments on, knowing that they would most likely be stripped from her later on.

She quickly placed the other clothing items in a drawer and returned to the outer room, where he stood watching her. With a shiver of excitement, she realized that the crotch of his pants had a pronounced bulge to them.

Had his eyes had that fire in them, when she walked through the door? With the feeling of a runaway train rushing through her, she stopped in front of him, and began her service to him.

He stood there, looking into her eyes again. How long ago had she taught him to read a person’s thoughts, glimpse their soul by looking into their eyes? He had only to look, and all of her secrets were there for him to see. He saw that she was ready for whatever the night would hold. He turned and silently commanded that she follow.

He slowly and quietly walked up the stairs, past the other rooms in his house, and walked into the master bedroom. She followed his loyally.

There was a huge four poster bed to one side; he had made sure that the bed would be fresh and comfortable, a haven she would want, when hunger was satisfied. Curtains hung from the posts, surrounding the bed, blurring the sight of anything or anyone who might be on the bed. It seemed to make a private area for whomever might sleep there.

She liked it. Jonathan really cared about her a lot.

Although, he was tempted to command her to service him on the bed immediately, Jonathan knew that what he most craved was something else entirely. He stopped in the middle of the room and turned. She had done as commanded and followed him.

He stared intently at her, trying to find any doubts or fear she may have had. Had she changed her mind in the last few days? He saw almost immediately that she was ready, wanting to experience this with him. He allowed the wash of his emotions to show in his eyes. He felt buried in the wave of love and lust for this woman, a wave which threatened to overcome him. With a deep breath he took control of his emotions, commanding himself to be calm.

She stood there, her heart rapidly beating, waiting for him to begin. She had been mildly surprised when he had explained what this night entailed. After he had explained fully what he desired, she had been close to shock. She was unsure whether she could do the things that he had asked. It wasn’t that anything had rubbed against her limitations, for she knew that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.

Especially on the start of their honeymoon together.

But what he most desired was something she had never tried. She was determined to follow through with this evening’s activities. So with a mental shrug, she decided she would do her best to satisfy him. They both asked only that of each other, for each to do their best.

She stood there, looking at him, loving this man who embodied all that she had ever wanted in a man. He was a man of many faces, with a single layer of vulnerability underneath. He was ruggedly handsome, and had a sweet, innocent kind of smile. His eyes sparkled with the deep amber when he was happy; they twinkled with a spark when he was being a wise ass.

She loved his way of respect, both for himself, her and for those around him. And she even loved the flat, monotone to his voice, with which he spoke with. But what she most loved was the way that he treated her, with a passion and a level of control she had craved all her life. He had captured her heart soon after they had met, and she knew that he had no intention of letting it go any time soon.

She watched his face as he let his guard slip just a bit, watched as his emotions took hold of him and became a raging torrent in his eyes. She could see the love and the lust inside of him. She gasped as a wave of energy came forth from him, washing over her.

She was frightened by the intensity of his emotions at first, but she saw this as his challenge, the opening shots in a war for control. With a grip on her own emotions, she straightened her stance, and sent her own love pouring out toward him. A wave of her own love washed over her, came pouring out of her core, and met his in the no-man’s land between them.

This was the moment, this was the time he would either give up control, or she would be asked to leave. Their eyes seemed almost to spark and flash with their own power as they stood there in a silent war. There was the faint sound of the song “Time Stands Still”, which played softly in the background. She stood there, allowing him to see her love for him, refusing to give in to him.

Soon, she noticed that his eyes were softening, his stance was bending ever so slightly, the intensity of his gaze was becoming more and more vulnerable. Then, he closed his eyes in a long extended blink, and the control was hers. She had won this silent war. She now had the control to do what she desired with him, to try to satisfy his hunger.

The night could finally begin.

He stood there wrapped in her gaze, feeling the powerful desires of the body mix with his love for her. He wanted more than anything to be with this beautiful woman, to simply feel her touching him; to feel the sweet agony of release with her.

He stepped forward to embrace her. He desired nothing more than to begin kissing her soft lips, speaking of his aching need for her through their passionate kisses. He wrapped his strong arms around her, enfolding her body in his bear-like grip, and bent his head to kiss her.

Her soft lips on his, was like putting a flame to gas. The heat of his passion ignited into a raging explosion of lust. He felt his manhood become hard and stiff with wanting her. She moaned in her soft way, telling him that she too felt the need to have him inside of her.

His hands traveled down the length of her body. His fingers softly brushed against the folds of her inner core, feeling the evidence of her passion. He began to pull away from her, so that they might go to the bed and satisfy their lust for one another.

She, however, had different plans in mind.

Control is a funny thing. Having control of him, did not mean that she wanted to tell him what to do, or wanted to be treated as a master. For her, control meant that she was able to do what she wanted, when she wanted it. To her, control meant she was the one who decided how they would pleasure one another, and for how long.

With a wicked little smirk on her face, she turned and pushed him down into the chair nearby. She giggled as he bounced in the chair, gazing up at her with bewilderment clearly etched in his eyes.

She wanted to tell him, how she desired to have him inside of her, how much she loved and wanted this man to ravish her and leave her screaming in orgasmic bliss. But more than that, she wanted to hear him begging for her, watch him as he strove to keep from begging for her. She stood there with her eyes locked with his, relishing the feel of her own powerful feelings wash through her.

She stared intently at him and softly whispered, “I love you” to him. She bent over and began to kiss him, darting her tongue between his lips, tagging his tongue with hers, while sucking on his lips.

Her hands began to loosen his belt, pulling it slowly from around him. She dropped the belt to the floor. Her deft fingers began to brush lightly against his hard and pronounced lump in the front of his pants. She pushed down at his center, squeezing him in her grip. A low moan escaped his lips, the first of many to come.

Slowly her hands moved up to his chest, rubbing his broad chest through the fabric of his shirt. Her hands continued up, rubbing and touching him.

“I’m enjoying this so much, Johnny!” Her lips and voice told him this and how much she loved him more than any other man out there.

She kissed him again, forcefully, feeling her heart rate, escalate inside of her. With a surprised jerk, she gripped the collar of his shirt and began to pull it open. Not wanting to wait for him, her own lust nearly consuming her, she simply ripped open the shirt, pulling the buttons from the material.

She felt his muscular years of athletic-build, from playing hockey on the ice, through her fingers. He quivered and twitched beneath her.

When he could stand the temptation no longer, he began to touch her skin with his hands, rubbing and touching her back, sliding his fingers along the folds of her legs. She quickly slapped his hands away, telling him to calm down.

He did and they made out on the chair. And then they moved and made out in the bed, lustfully falling for one another.

The first night of their honeymoon.