Chapter Text

Even though you had every reason to panic, you were eerily calm as you cut across the dimly lit evening woods, one hand firmly clutching the handle of the duffel bag full of your belongings that you had retrieved from your ex boyfriend's lodge where you had used to spent the weekends together. Save that the memory of those weekends wasn't tender, it was vile.

Your ex boyfriend had been an abusive, aggressive, misogynistic piece of shit who had held you in his grasp longer than you ever should have allowed. But when you had broken up after one and a half years, that was when the trouble really begun. Of course, your ex could not accept being dumped by a weak and inferior person like you. That's when the stalking had begun, the threats of violence, the attempted blackmailing. But your ex would never stalk you, punch you or blackmail you ever again.

Because you had killed him.

His blood stained your blouse and your gun was safely tucked behind your belt. The gun that you had never intended to use, that was supposed to be a mere precautionary, a deterrence. But when your ex had suddenly appeared out of thin air, aggressively attempting to stop you from retrieving the things from the lodge that were rightfully yours, insulting you to the blood, threatening to beat you up if you didn't comply – It had been so easy to draw the weapon. And when he had still kept on swearing at you, calling you a worthless whore, had grabbed you by your arm with bruising fury – It had been your biggest delight to fire the gun into his chest, not once but three times, watching with cold relieve as his lifeless body dropped to the ground.

With surprising composure, you had packed the rest of your things and didn't even bother to hide the body in any way, let alone dispose of it somehow. Your fingerprints were all over the lodge, on his clothes and you skin was probably under his nails. In the very moment you fired the bullets, you had known there was no way to cover up this felony, had known that no one at court would care about how he had harassed, abused and threatened you. But you were not willing to get on the hot seat just like that, so your only option was to run and hide, even though you knew that getting caught eventually was inevitable.

Whilst you were still calm on the inside, your body was fiercely reacting to your distress, trembling in all the worst ways as you stumbled across shrubs and roots with racing heart and nausea in your stomach.

With weary eyes you peered up and down the street when you finally reached it, relieved to find it devoid of any headlights of passing cars. The only car around was your own, small and inconspicuous, parked by the roadside.

You fully emerged from the treeline, only to stop dead in your tracks a mere second later, horrified. There was a person on the other side of the road, having emerged from the tree line just like you had. Your terrified gazes were interlocked, keeping each other in a tense entanglement.

The person was a man and his white clothes were covered in dark spots, the same type of spots that your own blouse was speckled with. He was a grotesque mirror image of you, both of your eyes wide with fear and agitation but also filled with icy relief and determination, because you knew you had done what you had to do.

You knew he saw the blood on your clothes and he knew you saw the one on his and as you stared, you felt a grim knot of solidarity with the man tie itself in your chest. A silent agreement hanging in the air, the unspoken promise of not ratting each other out, should you ever be questioned.

The man gave you the faintest nod, standing rigid and unmoving as you nodded back and stalked towards your car, throwing the duffel bag in the trunk. His head was still turned, dark eyes on you when you got on the driver's seat and started the engine, disrupting the secretive silence of the dark, lonely road with a loud roar. Your foot loomed over the gas pedal, but your eyes darted to the side mirror and latched onto the white figure who still stood and stared. A ghostly, lonesome being, doomed to a similar fate than you were, or so you assumed.

You had no idea idea what got into you, but you decided to follow your heart, this compulsive sense of sympathy, that voice of solidarity inside you which called louder and louder the longer you stared. With eery calmness, you turned the motor back off, unbuckled your seat-belt and got out of the car, searching the man's gaze.

“Do you need a ride?”

He hesitated for a moment but you waited patiently until you saw him nod deliberately. With cautious steps he approached and as he stepped into the scattered light emitted by the car, you noticed he had captivating eyes that sat beneath observantly knitted brows, amidst a pale, angular face that would be considered very handsome by societal standards. Wordlessly, he slid on the passenger's seat and fastened his seat belt as you re-started the engine and slowly rolled onto the empty road.

You sat in silence, no questions asked by either of you. It was evident that none of the blood on both of your clothes was your own and you didn't intent to address it unless he addressed it, but the both of you seemed to be in complete agreement.

Minutes rolled by, as did the dark contours of towering trees. The only source of light along the road where the headlights of your car, and you were thankful for living in such a remote area for once. The last thing you wanted right now was another car on your tail.

Quietly, you cleared your throat and spoke up without looking the man in the eyes.

“Is there anywhere in particular where you need to go?”

“No.” The man's voice seemed deep and high at once, laced with a pensive softness that you found oddly soothing. “Just as far away from here as possible.”

“Okay.”

“And are you headed for a particular destination?” He inquired, not seeking your eyes either. His were locked on something undefined in the darkness.

“No, I’m… just driving. And trying to clearing my mind.”

He seemed to be satisfied with your answer, nodding absentmindedly, and stared out of the window. From the corner of your eyes you thought you saw some of the tension fall off the man's body as he relaxed into the seat a bit more, although he kept his hands folded in his lap awkwardly.

You drove on for a good half an hours, sitting in silence that wasn't unpleasant, along deserted roads that would eventually lead to a not so deserted highway to take you west. Or south. You were still indecisive. In fact, you had no idea where to go, no plan, no one to ask for advice. You wanted to call your family, didn't want to leave them in the dark about your circumstances you were entangled in, but you knew you had to leave them alone, had to get off the grid if you wanted to have a chance of getting away with murder. Your hands clutched the steering wheel harder.

Following a sudden intuition, you decelerated and pulled onto an abandoned looking rest stop that was entirely shrouded in darkness, as the street lights seemed to be either disabled or broken. You felt the man's quizzical, wary look on your face.

“We need to get changed before we get on the highway.” You put on the handbrake and turned the engine off. “We wouldn’t want anyone to see our blood-drenched clothes, would we?”

“I see. You have a point. But I don’t have any spare clothes…” The man declared, carrying a singsong undertone in his voice which seemed unintentional, like a subconscious mannerism.

“You can wear some of mine. Get out of the car.”

The man looked skeptical but followed your instructions, slowly walking round the car and meeting you in the back. You swiftly opened the trunk, and unzipped the duffel bag under the man's cautious gaze and rummaged around for clothes. Your hands found a shirt that seemed suitable for yourself, so you carelessly yanked your bloodstained blouse over your head, standing only in your bra in the cold night air. You hadn't even noticed how chilly it was until the cold breeze met your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over it.

As you fumbled to get the clean shirt over your head, you clearly felt the man staring at the suddenly revealed skin in a way that he probably thought was unobtrusive, but you didn’t care. You had bigger problems at the moment than a man casting glances at your chest.

As soon as you were done re-dressing yourself, you swiftly resumed digging through the depths of the duffel bag until you came across an over-sized T-Shirt that would fit the man's relatively broad-shouldered frame.

“Take your shirt off and put that on.”

He eyed the garment cautiously but complied, unbuttoning his white dress-shirt with deft fingers. There sure was a lot of blood on that shirt, you noticed but somehow convinced yourself that you didn't mind, that it didn't matter, because you truly were in no position to be judgmental. The shirt came off swiftly, revealing lean arms and muted muscles, barely visible in the darkness, and yet you were the one staring unobtrusively this time. The man wore a white undershirt and some of the blood seemed to have seeped through, staining the second layer of fabric as well.

“That too” you instructed and found an old plastic bag in the trunk, stuffing your own blouse and his dress-shirt inside. You would have to dispose of those somehow, or find a way to properly wash them. Until then, you would keep them in the bag.

The man cast an odd glance at you but didn't give backtalk. With one swift movement he yanked the wifebeater over his had and stuffed it in the bag. From the corners of your eyes, you couldn't help but ogle the frame of his torso, the sharp collar bones and lithe muscles beneath pale skin. The combination of his fair skin tone, the blonde locks and the crimson blood made you think of vanilla and strawberry ice cream, and you immediately felt the bile rise in your throat. What a grotesque thought to have.

He slipped your shirt over his head and luckily it fit him well enough. Your gaze fell on his white slacks which unfortunately hadn't been spared from blood stains.

“Take your pants off.”

The man's head whipped around and he regarded you with a long, piercing gaze, but you were growing impatient. With every passing second the chance of someone riding past you and spotting the odd pair of you increased.

“I don't have any pants that will fit you, so we have to get the blood stains out of yours. You can't walk around like that.” You explained on edge and urged him to hurry up with a wave of your hand. Eventually, the man lowered his leery gaze and fumbled with his belt. For a moment, the sound of the buckle jingling was the only noise that filled the muted, nightly silence. Awkwardly, the man slipped his shoes off so he could strip his pants, revealing slim legs.

He seemed uncomfortable, but you didn't have time to dwell on that, so you snatched the slacks out of his hands and dug around your bag until you found a sponge and body-wash which you had removed from the lodge's bathroom. You drenched the sponge with water from your water bottle and a bit of body-wash and started scrubbing the crimson spots on the fabric under the watchful gaze of the man who stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of his hips, even though the shirt was long enough to keep his underwear covered.

“Can I... help?” He finally spoke up, perhaps because he felt guilty since you were doing all the work to get his clothes cleaned.

“Nope, it's fine” you responded and furiously kept scrubbing the fabric. It wasn't working perfectly, but it was better than nothing. The crimson was fading into a light pink that would hopefully not look too suspicious to someone looking from the distance. After several more minutes you finally gave up. It wouldn't get better than that.

“Do you want to put them back on? Or should we let them dry in the car? They're all wet -” But the man had already snatched his slacks from your hands and swiftly slipped them back on, regardless of the drenched patches all over them.

“Can you look at me for a second?” You asked, and he slowly turned to face you, wearing the ever-present wary look on his indisputably handsome face. Knitting your brows, you got closer and confirmed the suspicion that you had had – There were specks of blood on his face too. Thoughtlessly, you reached your hand out to wipe over one of the dried spots in an attempt to remove it, but your found your hand being harshly smacked away from him.

An involuntary gasp escaped your lips when the man wrapped one hand around your wrist, squeezing roughly and bending your arm in an unnatural angle that made you wince with pain. His eyes were torn wide open and filled with distrust, giving him the looks of a hunted animal.

“I'm sorry!” You whimpered, tugging on your arm to free yourself from him, but he kept you in place with bruising grasp. Tears sprang to your eyes, because all your life men had deemed it necessary to touch you roughly, to hurt you when you had no ill intend.

“What were you doing?” The man asked with icy voice, no trace of the sing-song undertone left, eyes darting all over your distraught features in search of betrayal or a trap that wasn't there.

“I-, there's blood on on your face. I just wanted to w-wipe it off” you explained with tear-laced voice. Immediately, the man let go of your wrist and averted his gaze, staring gloomily into the distance. “I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you just like that, m-my bad.”

“No. Go ahead, please.” He turned to face you with half-closed eyes and you were relieved to see that the violent storm inside them had ceased. You gulped down the short-lived scare and forced yourself to reach out for him again. Your thumb hovered over his jaws.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

You carefully turned his face to the side and used the clean side of the sponge to scrub at the speckles on his porcelain skin. His jaws were clenched and his muscles tensed upon the contact, and when you reached further upwards and brushed a flake of dried blood out of his hair, he flinched back but remained silent. He seemed like a person who had never been touched much in his life, who was wary and distrustful of everyone and everything and you couldn't hold his reaction against him.

“Sorry” he suddenly mumbled as you finished cleaning his face and eventually packed the sponge away, stuffing it in the same plastic bag which contained your other pieces of evidence.

“It's okay. We're both on edge. Let's drive on.”

The darkness of the woods slowly made room for rangeland and occasional lights in the distance until eventually you came upon the Highway entrance. The presence of other cars rushing past didn't concern you as much as you had feared it would, and you accelerated up to the speed limit, holding it meticulously. The very last thing you wanted was to get caught speeding and pulled over. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought, but it felt amazing to finally get some miles behind you. You drove in silence for a good half an hour until the man suddenly spoke up:

“Have you ever killed someone before today?”

“No?!” You gasped loudly, head spinning to cast an aghast look at the person on the passenger's seat before turning back to the road. What a fucking grotesque question to ask, you thought, and tensed involuntarily. For a terrible moment you assumed that the man himself had probably killed someone before, but you violently forced yourself to drop the thought. This was not the right time to jump to conclusions, and even if he had, it didn't necessarily matter at the current moment.

The man seemed mildly embarrassed for the unsuccessful attempt of making conversation, as if he wasn't used to that either. You felt his inconspicuous gaze on your tensed body and immediately felt bad for your brisk response, wracking your brain for anything that might ignite a normal conversation.

“Are you hungry?” You finally found something to say.

“No. Not really.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You replied truthfully. In fact, the thought of consuming anything edible at all made your stomach churn. But your stomach also churned with all-consuming fear, with the panic that you had been successfully suppressing until now. Before you could stop yourself, the words came bursting out of your mouth like a fountain.

“They’re gonna know it was me! FUCK!” The man jumped when you suddenly punched the steering wheel, then clutched it so hard that your knuckles turned white, staring ahead with tear-filled eyes and a grimace of anger. At least, you managed to keep the sobs silent, but you couldn't contain them any longer.

“If it makes you feel any better, they know it was me, too.” The man exclaimed with pensive voice, ogling you from the corner of his eyes. You laughed half-heartedly.

“Thank you.” You appreciated his attempt of cheering you up and you were grateful for the fact that he allowed you to cry in peace, not making any weird comments about it.

You reached out and turned the heater on, which would hopefully help dry the man's slacks that had to be uncomfortably damp and cold.

*** Several hours later, spent mostly in silence ***

A weary glance at your wristwatch informed you that it was past 2am and your eye-lids had grown dangerously heavy, dropping lower and lower with every passing moment. After all, you had been driving for hours with only one short break. You could barely keep your eyes open and fatigue came crashing down on you like an imminent heavy snowstorm.

“D-do you mind driving for a bit?” You mumbled, aimed at your quiet front-seat passenger. “I can’t keep my eyes open.” You desperately needed some rest, a power nap at least.

“I… I can’t drive. I’m sorry.” The man admitted, carrying a contrite tinge in his sing-song voice.

“Oh… It’s okay. But I’m afraid we’ll have to find an accommodation for the night then. I can’t drive on like this.” He hesitated for a moment, seemingly displeased with the fact that you would have to stop moving for a while, but eventually agreed with a nod.

It was 3am when you finally came across a sign that said “Motel”. Two of the five letters were broken, so it only spelled “Moe”, which seemed perfect. A perfect, inconspicuous, cheap, dingy place to contain two murderers for one night. In the moment when you pulled up on the place's parking lot, you realized that it was every bit like you had imagined. You tried to be optimistic that no one would steal your car while you stayed for the night.

“Let's go” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes and grabbed your bag from the trunk. “And stay behind me. Maybe they won’t notice your pants that way.” Whilst the stains were no longer crimson and didn't scream 'blood' at first glance, they still looked odd at best.

“Okay.” The man followed you closely, warily eyeing the dimly lit entrance and the wallpaper that came off in moldy flakes. “But I don’t have… money to pay for this.” He sounded uneasy, perhaps a little ashamed.

“It’s okay, I’ll pay. Don’t worry about it.” You quickly put off his worries.

“Oh… Thank you.”

You swiftly approached the languid person behind the reception desk who was absorbed in a newspaper. It would only be more uncomfortable if you staved off the conversation.

“Hey, uhm, do you have two rooms available for the night?”

“Only one room left.” The person slurred without looking up from their reading matter.

“Oh…” You turned around and gave Henry a questioning look full of uncertainty. A part of you hoped he would refuse, suggest that one of you could sleep in the car, but instead he hesitantly shrugged his shoulders, giving his okay. Shamefacedly, you turned back around to the receptionist.

“Does it have, uh, twin beds?” The person finally looked up from the newspaper, annoyed.

“Double bed. Take it or leave it and don’t waste my time.”

“O-o-okay, we'll take it.” you stammered, feeling the flustered heat crawl all over your strained body. What a fucking cliché. You sensed the blond man's piercing gaze on your back when you slid the banknotes across the counter and received the key for your room, which was located on the top floor at the very end of the corridor.

The door snapped shut behind you, sealing you inside a room with a double bed and a murderer. You wondered if another set of murderers had ever occupied said bed before, and considering the motel's sketchy look you wouldn't rule out the possibility.

You wanted to keep ignoring the man's burning gaze which you still felt very clearly on the back of your head and march to the bathroom, but a hand was wrapped around your upper arm, stopping you with gentle grasp.

“Why are you helping me?” The man muttered from behind

“I’m not sure…” You admitted, without turning around to meet his eyes. “Maybe I’m glad that I’m not alone.”

“Aren’t you scared that I’ll hurt you?” He whispered, and it seemed like he was closer than before, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear. Something deep inside you was kindled, and it should be fear but it was something else, something that shouldn't be ignited at the sound of such menacing words. You gulped hard.

“No. Should I be?”

“No.”

“And aren’t you scared that I’ll shoot you?” You forced yourself to turn around at snail's pace, until your eyes were interlocked with his. In the motel room's ceiling light you realized for the first time that the man's eyes were of an enthralling blue which made them seem like two deep pools, drawing you into their alluring depths.

“With that gun of yours?” For some reason he smirked, although you had no idea what was there to smirk about. “So you intend to... use it again?”

“I hope not!” You exclaimed, furrowing your brows, which somehow seemed to amuse the man even more, whose fingers were still wrapped around your upper arm. You didn't mind it. Not at all. “B-but if someone a-attacks us, we might need it!” You tried to justify the fact that you were still carrying the weapon with you. Who were you considering to shoot? The police when they caught you?! The thought alone was ridiculous, because you would finally and inevitably seal your own death sentence if you attacked a police officer.

“We won’t need it…” The man smiled mysteriously and finally let go of your arm. A part of you mourned the loss of contact, shivering although your cheeks felt warm.

You cleared your throat, unable to make sense of the statement, so you decided it was better not to dwell on it. Not tonight. All you wanted was to go to bed and fall into deep, dreamless slumber that would allow you to forget about this waking nightmare you were in.

“My turn in the bathroom first, then yours?” You proposed and dug around your bag for some suitable sleeping clothes, toothpaste and a toothbrush. He agreed, nodding. “I have two old toothbrushes of mine in here. They've both been used previously, sorry, but the blue one is yours if you want it.”

When you emerged from the bathroom, you felt much less icky than before and refreshed enough to be moderately comfortable, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. The man still stood tall and rigid in the middle of the room in the exact place where you had left him, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Like an alien artifact that had somehow stranded on planet earth.

“Your turn” you mumbled and crawled right beneath the covers which thankfully looked clean enough. Under other circumstances you would have been decent enough to offer sleeping on the floor, but you were dead-tired and had stopped caring about anything.

You must have dozed off already, because when your eyes snapped back open, it was due to the sound of the bathroom door falling shut. The blond man emerged from the bathroom, awkwardly carrying his pants in front of his body. They seemed wet, so he had probably attempted to wash them once more. Since there was no chair to hang the garment over, he draped it on the floor. Through the slits of your tired eyes you caught a glance at the white boxer briefs that the man was wearing and the silent question just why all of his clothes were white passed your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by fatigue.

He switched the ceiling light off and cautiously approached the unoccupied side of the double bed, standing rigid and awkwardly, hands clasped in front of his hips like earlier. “Is this... okay?” He asked your permission to get into bed, wearing nothing but your T-Shirt and his underwear.

“Of course” you mumbled drowsily.

He quickly slid on his side of the bed, laying down at the very edge of the mattress, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Whilst he was laying stiffly on his back, staring up at the ceiling, you were curled up on your side, looking at the sharp profile of the man's face which you could barely see, but it was there. Something about him being there was oddly comforting to you. Having someone there with you in this fucking tragedy that was now your life.

“Thank you” you whispered.

“For what?”

“For accompanying me. I don't want to be alone.” It was the last thing you mumbled before drifting off to sleep.

-

You woke up to soft rays of daylight tickling your face and the warmth of a human body. Exhaling an involuntary sigh, you snuggled up to the body closer, firmly wrapping your arms around it and placing one leg on top of the person's thighs while nuzzling your face into their chest. It took you a couple more moments before realization hit you and the awful reality came crashing back in.

The person who held you in an awkward embrace, staring up at the ceiling again - or still - was the killer you had picked up by the side of the road yesterday, after you had shot your ex boyfriend dead.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You finally startled up and quickly scrambled away, ashamed. Just why had you been on his side of the bed. For all you knew you had fallen asleep on the very edge of your own side last night.

“It’s alright. You seemed to be having nightmares and you scooted over here in the middle of the night.” The man explained nonchalantly, carrying the sing-song tone in his voice. He sounded wide awake already and you wondered what time it was.

“I don’t remember that, oh God… You could have pushed me away.” You kindled with embarrassment at the thought of snuggling up to a stranger in the middle of the night.

“But I didn’t mind it. It seemed to help you.” The man's voice slightly wavered, softness in his words. By some strange reason, it reminded you of flower petals gently streaming in the wind, of lush green leafs rustling on a spring day. How could someone's voice sound so alluring?

“Oh…” You face burned and involuntary heat crept all over your body, burning so much brighter and hotter than yesterday, now that you were fully rested and had gained some physical distance to yesterday's events.

“For all I care, you can keep doing it.” The man muttered casually, as if he was proposing nothing out of the ordinary, as if he was asking for directions or for a cigarette. He avoided your gaze, staring at the ceiling. You hesitated, surprised, feeling the beat of your heart up in your throat.

“Wh-what?”

“Come on, I won’t bite you. Be my guest.” He sounded like he genuinely wanted you to come back into his arms, and for some obscure reason you complied. Perhaps it was because of his soft sing-song voice or because you were in desperate need for comfort. Regardless, the thought of being held was too tempting to resist.

Carefully, you scooted closer underneath the blanket and snuggled back up to him, resting your head on his warm, firm chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace that was stiff but not unpleasant. With your ear that was pressed to his chest, you picked out the beating of his own heart, which you found oddly comforting. It helped you melt into the embrace more, allowed your involuntarily strained muscles to relax.

Suddenly, you found yourself being flipped over, so you were resting on the side of your body, facing away from the man who was now snuggled up to your back in spoon position. You felt the distinct warmth of his body along the entire backside of yours, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your arched spine. Your breath quickened as the man's fingertips ghosted over your bare arms, caressing you in soft circles. If the gesture was meant to be soothing, it had the opposite effect on you, causing your insides to kindle with white-hot fire which pooled into your abdomen.

All of a sudden, he softly whispered too close by your ear: “Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“What?!” You sharply hissed, stiffening momentarily. You had never told him about your ex, about what exactly you had done or he had done. There was a terrified pause in which your blood froze in your veins, causing your entire body to go rigid in his grasp and your breathing to halt entirely.

“You were talking in your sleep.” The man was quick to explain, squeezing your body in the gentlest way. Little did you know that he had been poking around in your head while you were sleeping, wanting to find out if you were a threat to him, stumbling upon various unpleasant memories of your ex instead. He had empathized with the relief and satisfaction you had felt when you finally shot him and punished him for his misdoings.

Oh God, you were embarrassed. You had never talked in your sleep before, at least not that you knew of.

“No one will hurt you from now on…” The man with the soft voice mumbled, pulling you even closer in his arms, melting your stiffness away within seconds. It sounded like a promise and you grew hotter than before, burning with all kinds of heats. “He lied to you, all the time. He deserved it. You should be proud of yourself.”

You weren't sure if his lies were the worst and most punishable of the things he had done to you, but for some reason this stranger's encouragement soothed you, filled you with a grotesque sense of pride because you had finally defended yourself, because you were not weak, like your ex had constantly claimed you were. You must have been talking awfully much in your sleep last night.

“Thank you for giving me a ride yesterday.” The man whispered into your hair.

“You’re welcome. You can ride with me again today, if you want to.” You were desperately hoping he would say yes, because the thought of being all alone in this mess frightened you more than you would like to admit.

“I was hoping you would say that, and I would like to take the offer” he exclaimed, relieved. “But still, I have no money to recompense you. How can I show my gratitude?” You were growing even hotter and couldn't stop the faint whimper to roll off your tongue when he pressed his nose to your skin right behind your ear, sending tingles straight into your aching core.

“I-It’s okay, you don’t need to pay me for anything. I would love to help you.” You stammered, flustered, hoping he wouldn't notice the state you were in. Or perhaps you were hoping for the exact opposite.

“And I would love to show my gratitude somehow. Is there a way how I could reimburse you for the troubles?” The man's voice was as sweet and thick as honey, slowly oozing into your ear and down your auditory canal, worming its way into your brain which was in shambles, whirring and buzzing with arousal.

“O-oh, please, you’re not causing any trouble” you stuttered, sweating. The arm that had been wrapped around your waist slowly slid south at snail’s pace, making your breath hitch in your throat, until his hand was resting on your lower stomach.

“Please, it would be a… personal concern for me to express my thanks.” You felt something hard twitch against the back of your thigh, causing you to inhale sharply. His hand dropped to your hip, grabbing it firmly and pulling you flush against him for you to feel his full hardness resting against your ass. You groaned loudly with surprise and anticipation, feeling the last remnants of your shame and resistance melting away.

“Wh-what do you have on mind?”

The arm beneath your body curled around your chest, pulling you impossibly close and the hand by your hip deftly slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, inching towards your center over your panties. Shortly before the aching spot where you needed his touch the most, he stopped, causing a pathetic whine to roll off your tongue.

“Do you want this?” He softly asked, voice darker than before, caressing your ear like cool satin.

“Yes, I do!” You nodded fervently, automatically rutting your hips into his hand to get the desperately needed friction from him.

“Are you sure?” He inquired insistently, carrying an urgent tone in his voice. “I don’t want to be like your ex.”

“You’re not!” You exclaimed fiercely. “You’re asking permission first. And I promise I do want this.”

He seemed satisfied, and with that he slid his fingers beneath the fabric of your damp panties, dipping them between your folds, seemingly delighted to find them wet and slippery. He commented on his findings with a small, satisfied grunt which sent dangerous tingles all the way into your core, making you clench.

With teasing fingers he stroked through your wetness , causing you to mewl and arch your back into his firm body, demanding more. Eventually, he decided to concentrate his attention on your clit, easily finding it between your folds, throbbing and aching. Expertly, he flicked his fingertips over the sensitive nub, rubbing torturous circles that made you jump in his grasp and exhale a loud moan into the silence of the room.

Suddenly, there was a pale, veiny hand clamped over your mouth, forcing all following sounds to stay inside. His voice was raspy and lust-laced when he whispered: “The walls are thin. Wouldn’t want anyone else but me to hear the pretty sounds you make, hm?”

You almost fell apart, nodding fervently as you mewled into the palm of his hand which was firmly pressed on your face whilst his other hand continued its ministrations between your quavering thighs, pushing you dangerously close to the edge embarrassingly fast. Something about this position felt so awfully intimate, yet tantalizingly anonymous since your face was turned away from his. The combination of both only added to your arousal, heightening it tenfold. The man's grasp on you was soft enough to make you feel safe, but hard enough to give you the feeling of not being able to get away from his maddening touch.

You fiercely bucked into his hand when suddenly he dipped two fingers into your throbbing heat which offered little resistance thanks to being absolutely soaked. Immediately, he set a brisk pace that made you see stars and fervently rut against him as his digits split you open. The man's own hips were softly rocking into you from behind, causing you to feel the hot, hardness in his underwear, pressing into the meat of your ass. Somehow, you knew that the motion was subconscious, involuntary, which only made it all the more arousing.

The pace of his fingers was unrelenting, pumping into you knuckle-deep whilst the heel of his hand pressed down on your clit just harsh enough to make you wince and whine upon each return of his hand. His grasp on your body tightened and so did the white-hot coil in your abdomen, until it finally snapped, making room for all-consuming pleasure which bloomed and unfurled from your center, causing you to see fireworks behind closed eye-lids.

The man's bruising hold choked the air out of your lungs as you came, clenching hard around his rutting digits while incoherent nonsense rolled off your lips. The lack of oxygen made your head spin, but it felt good, it felt absolutely perfect, as if the roughness of his actions was just what you needed at the moment. You willingly gave your orgasm to this complete stranger who had just fingered you better than anyone before ever had.

Slowly, you came down from your high as his crushing embrace slackened, allowing you to catch your breath. His fingers were still buried inside you, stroking you softly while your walls clenched down on him sporadically as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. You whimpered quietly, twitching in his arms and he seemed reluctant to let you go, wanting to keep on stroking you, wanting to hear you make more of those sounds, just for him. And you wanted the same.

“Please” you whispered and he finally withdrew his fingers with a wet sound that made you shudder. “N-no, that's not what I meant. Please stay.” The man seemed hesitant, not quite knowing what you meant. He brought his hand back between your thighs, holding you there, over your drenched panties. “D-Don’t you want… help with that?” You rocked your hips back and felt his hardness twitch against your ass. He seems excited by your proposal, as if he had been hoping you would say that.

“Do you happen to have condoms in that bag of yours?” He growled into your ear, voice quavering with anticipation.

“I don’t” you admitted. “But I’m on birth control.”

“Even better” he snarled and wasted no time. With deft hands he he dragged your pants and underwear down your hips and pulled his cock out of his boxers, swiftly lining himself up with your slick, puffy entrance from behind. He was so quick, you hardly had any time to mentally prepare yourself for the intrusion, but you didn't mind it. You gasped loudly when you felt him prod your center, pushing firmly but the angle wasn't quite right.

You tilted your hips, granting him better access and immediately found your walls being forced apart as he split you open with the length of his cock at one go. A plethora of curses and moans tumbled off your lips when he firmly grabbed you by the meat of your hips with one hand, keeping your torso close with the other, and set a brisk pace of snapping his hips.

“Fuck!” You hissed, clawing at the bare arm that was wrapped around your chest, which only seemed to spur the man more, making him slam himself inside you as fast and hard as this position allowed. You felt so incredibly full, as if his cock was stuffing you to the very brim with each thrust. The air was filled with both of your labored groans and lewd sound of skin smacking against skin, accompanied by wet squelching that made your face burn hotly. Had you ever been this wet before?

Before you could dwell on the thought further, you suddenly found yourself being awfully empty and flipped on your back. You hit the mattress with a gasp, staring up at the man's blue eyes expectantly. He looked absolutely feral now, sweat coating his forehead, blonde locks tousled, brows knitted and pink lips parted with carnal lust.

He seemed so much more lively than yesterday, as if it had taken him half a day to thaw, to unfreeze, to awaken from whatever trance he had been in. You couldn't say you didn't appreciate it, pleasantly shivering and squirming at the thought of this ferocious looking man fucking you apart. He wasted no time and swiftly yanked your pants and panties down to your ankles, discarding them on the floor, quickly followed by his own shirt and his boxers. Meanwhile, you yanked your own sleeping shirt off, which rendered both of you stark naked.

Immediately after, the man descended on you, bending your legs by the hollows of your knees, which exposed your wet, glistening center to him all the more. He stared with awe, hungrily absorbing the sight of you presenting yourself to him so freely, showing off the wetness that was only his doing.

“Please...” You didn't have to beg any more for him to slam himself back inside you, sinking the length of his hard, velvety cock into your waiting heat. He watched himself disappear inside you with fascination, watched how your pussy willingly took his dick over and over again, listened how you moaned and gasped so tantalizingly upon each thrust of his hips.

From this new position, you had unobstructed view of the man's lean torso, of the his lithe muscles that flexed beneath his fair skin while he was giving his everything to pound into you hard, drinking up every ounce of your arousal with dark, lust-filled eyes.

All of a sudden, he removed one of his hands from your shaking legs and reached down between your thighs to stroke your still overstimulated clit. You winced, meeting his gaze with pleading eyes.

“I- I can't, I -”

“Oh, but you can. You're taking my cock so well, I know there's another orgasm you can give me. Or do you not want to give it to me?” He quirked an eyebrow, regarding you with sternness which was probably meant to be playful, but it looked very convincing and you shuddered with arousal, fervently shaking your head.

“I do!” The sudden dirty talk was almost enough to make you forget about the overstimulation entirely.

“That's what I wanted to hear” he smirked and placed his thumb on your clit again, rubbing firmly despite your mewls and winces. How could something be so unpleasant and yet feel so agonizingly good? You had no idea how that was even possible, but you allowed yourself to give into his touch, into his torturous and unrelenting caress that pushed you so dangerously close to the edge of the abyss.

Your second orgasm descended upon you with the ferocity of a lightning storm, setting your nerve ends on liquid fire which seemed to pulsate through whole body as your walls fiercely clenched around his thrusting cock that pierced you open over and over and over again, fucking you through your high until you were a drooling, panting, squirming, brainless mess.

The man lowered his torso on you, caging your worn out, sweaty body in his arms. You didn't resist, allowing him to keep fucking into your aching center however he pleased.

“You want me to come inside?” He cooed, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“Yes! Yes, please!” You begged weakly, clawing at his shoulders for support.

You heard every grunt, every groan rolling off his plush lips that were directly next to your ear as he slammed into you, hip bones digging into the flesh of your ass as skin smacked against skin. With stuttering hips and tensed muscles he finally reached his own high, emptying himself inside you with an animalistic snarl that seemed to arise from the very bottom of his heart.

Panting heavily, he pulled out of you a few moments later, and you felt his hot semen leaking out of your entrance, seeping onto the sheets. The man seemed hesitant, as if he was uncertain what was the appropriate thing to do now. He made a move to get up.

“Please, stay” you asked weakly, carefully wrapping your arms around his neck. For a second you were scared that he wouldn't allow it, that he would drop you like a used toy, but blessedly he permitted you to coax him in an embrace, so that he rested his heaving torso on yours.

-

No one had stolen your car over night and you were seated on the driver's seat, hands clasping the steering wheel as your eyes were glued on the sunlit road ahead. Your body didn't seem to be sure whether to revel in the lingering blissfulness of your previous highs, or to flood your mind with fear and panic due to the fact that you were murderers on the run with no clue where to go. The man next to you, however, seemed utterly relaxed, dressed in the same shirt he had slept in and his white slacks which now only showed faint remnants of pink in some places.

A small part of you slightly relaxed when you rolled on the Highway, finally able to accelerate.

“You never asked my name.” The blond man unexpectedly spoke up and you shot him a quick glance.

“Do you not mind sharing it?”

“If you don’t mind sharing yours with me?” You hesitated for a second, but then told him. It felt good.

“My name is… Henry.” Somehow, it seemed like it was utterly liberating for him to pronounce his name, like a weight was lifted off his chest. You softly smiled to yourself. Henry.

“I'm glad you're here... Henry.” You drove on, switching to a Highway that would lead you further south for no particular reason. It was as good as any direction. Perhaps you could go into hiding in Mexico.

“You don’t need to worry anymore. I will protect us.” Henry suddenly spoke up again, being much more talkative than yesterday.

“How do you plan to do that with no money, no driver’s license and no gun?”

“I have my own ways. I’ll show you eventually. But for now… Just drive.”

And you drove.

Chapter Text

The nocturnal, dark parking lot was not entirely empty, but it was empty enough for no one to bat an eye at the desolate car in the very corner with its windows all fogged up. No one cared for the two people on the backseat and the unambiguous sounds that even the closed doors of the vehicle could not retain.

You were seated on Henry’s lap, skirt bunched up and underwear roughly shoved aside. His pants were undone, cock pulled out and buried balls-deep inside your weeping cunt. Henry’s belt buckle was uncomfortably digging into your soft flesh with every bounce on his lap, but neither of you cared.

However, the fact that you were on top was far from implying that you had the upper hand. The very opposite was the case, and even though you were willingly riding his dick, it was his bruising hands on your hips that dragged you up, forcing you down on his cock again and again and again.

Your mouth hung half-open as you clawed at Henry’s shoulders, tearing on the fabric of his dress-shirt to give your hands a task while your eyes drowned in his – dark blue and stormy, filled with lust. He slammed you down on his lap, belt buckle digging into the flesh of your ass, and a high-pitched moan escaped your lips, quickly followed by more moans of the same kind as you felt your high approaching, like a coil of white-hot pleasure sitting in your abdomen. An itch that could only be scratched if Henry kept fucking you deep and hard.

But suddenly, his hips came to a stuttering halt and the man in question came with a snarl, lips pulled back to reveal his teeth which made him look like an animal, sweat glistening on his forehead. You whined with disappointment, feeling his cock throb inside you once more and his grasp on your hips slacken.

“But I’m… I’m not finished yet” you remarked, unable to hide the tinge of annoyance in your voice.

“I never said you could, did I?” He mocked, displaying a faint, smug grin on his handsome face that looked so punchable to you right now.

“You’re such a condescending asshole, you know that?!” It slipped your mouth, and you were surprised that he wasn’t throwing you off his lap right then and there.

“Careful, pet…” He warned, voice deeper than before.

“D-don’t call me that!” You hissed, hating how it made you feel. Why did your body have to react to such a humiliating nickname with a wanton clench in your abdomen?

“Do you want to cum or not, hm?!” Lightning-fast one of his arms was behind you, grabbing a fistful of hair, making you yelp sharply as you tried to free yourself from the painful grasp, but his other hand kept you pinned in place on his lap.

“I… I do” you whimpered, tearing up with pain, shame and lust.

“Then be good. If you’re even able to do that…” He snarled, bringing his hand between your bodies where you were still conjoint through his cock inside you. With teasing fingertips, he flicked over your throbbing clit, making you jolt in his grasp with a wanton moan.

“I am!” You cried out. “I’m going to be good, I promise.” You felt pathetic, but you needed this release so much more than your dignity. He smiled, knowing he had won once again.

“And what do good girls say when they get a treat?” He flicked your clit once more, smearing your juices all over the small bundle, making it slick.

“Thank you!” You yelped, writhing into his hand in search of more caress.

“Thank you, what?” Henry probed, threateningly before giving your hair another light tug that made you wince.

“Thank you, Sir!”

“That’s better, pet” he praised with mocking undertone, and began rubbing firm circles into your throbbing clit that made you lose the remnants of your sanity in an instant. “All tamed and docile on my lap. Why can’t you always be like that?”

You moaned out, cried almost, rutting yourself against his digits with despair as your eyes snapped shut. The pleasure built up rapidly, consuming you from the inside like an agonizing unquenchable fire.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes, thank you, th-thank you, I’m-m s-so close, oh God, please” you begged, rambled, needing this release more than oxygen in your lungs. Your words didn’t seem to leave him unfazed, as you could distinctly feel his cock twitching inside you, springing to new life.

“Mmh, God, you look like a slut. Who owns you?”

“Y-you!” You blurted out immediately, desperately chasing the impending high that rapidly stacked and tugged on your nerve ends. “You own me.”

“Then be a good little pet and cum for me now.”

Your body obeyed immediately, unleashing your climax with such ferocity that you had to throw your head back, hanging submissively in Henry’s grasp as unashamed moans spilled from your open mouth by the dozen, until your pussy eventually stopped clamping around Henry’s cock – His re-hardened cock.

You whimpered upon noticing, whimpering even harder when he rocked his hips slightly, experimentally pushing into your throbbing center which was gushing with slick.

“Ow, shit” you cursed, aching from overstimulation as he pounded up into your trembling pussy with a piercing thrust, displaying a mean grin on his face.

“Don’t whine. I hate it when you whine” he scolded you.

“But, please, I-” You attempted to protest through gritted teeth, eyes teary and squinted from overstimulation, but you could do nothing against the brisk pace with which he slammed into your ablaze center.

“Be still. Arms behind your back.” You complied, sniveling, and he wrapped one hand around both of your wrists behind your lower back, pinning them in place whilst his other hand remained on your hip. “Yeah, that’s a good girl. You’re gonna take everything I give you, understood?”

“Y-yes, Sir. Thank you.”

You desperately tried to contain the pained mewls that wanted to escape your mouth upon each sharp thrust, but some escaped nonetheless and you had a feeling that it only turned Henry on more, seeing your pain and how you remained willing and docile for him despite it, just like he had asked. It only made him fuck you harder, until you truly gasped with every thrust through gritted teeth.

“God, come here.” He released your wrists and wrapped one arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest, allowing you to nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck. You complied with a relieved sigh and your body relaxed just enough to make a small flame of new arousal flicker inside you, causing your walls to clench once around his dick. The intimacy of the position made the pain bearable, almost forgettable when you allowed yourself to be entranced by Henry’s scent and his alluring voice as he whispered right by your ear.

“I’m gonna cum inside you again, pet. Would you like that?”

“Y-yes, please” you nodded with as much fervor as your exhausted body allowed, placing your lips on his neck to make a mark there. Henry groaned in response.

“You filthy thing. So greedy for my cum. Well, you can have it all.” With that he harshly snapped his hips upwards, fucking into you with a row of sharp, deep thrusts that made you yelp with pain and wrap your arms around his neck tighter, hanging on for dear life as he emptied himself inside you for the second time tonight, panting heavily when he was done.

He looked like a disheveled mess, locks tousled, cheeks flushed and forehead sweaty, but you weren’t allowed to relish the sight for long. Henry lifted your hips upwards, pulling out of your aching pussy with a squelch. Thick droplets of semen followed shortly after, leaking out of your entrance but Henry quickly pulled your underwear back in place, causing any spilled cum to stain the fabric instead. You mewled discontent.

“I want to clean mys-”

“No. It stays inside. Now be a good girl and get back on the driver’s seat and make yourself useful. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“Make yourself useful…” You muttered under your breath, casting livid glances at the man who practically shoved you out on the parking lot. Angrily, you complied and slipped behind the steering wheel, sitting uncomfortable due to the wetness between your thighs. You practically felt it leaking. “As if being your driver was my only use for you.”

“What other use would there be?” Henry cast a cold smile your way as you let on the engine and drove off the parking lot with a gloomy scowl.

*** (only proceed past this point for serious chaotic energy…) ***

You had made it to the highway and it started raining, thick droplets hitting the roof of the car and the road ahead, making it slippery. Thankfully there wasn’t very much traffic besides you. It was the middle of the night after all.

You felt like shit, still furious at the man on the passenger’s seat who seemed to be amused by your livid glances and your angrily knitted brows. He loved seeing you like this, so defiant, like you weren’t secretly loving the way he treated you because he knew you did, even if you would always deny it. He knew you were his and he had you under his spell, no matter how pissed you looked and how snarky your replies were. As soon as he laid his hands back on you, he knew you would melt under his burning touch and become his docile pet once again.

Angrily, you reached out for the car radio and switched it on. If you were going to play stupid driver for Henry, you at least wanted to have some music to distract you from the disgrace you were.

Your anger multiplied by a dozen when Henry turned the radio back off, shooting you a cold glance. Fuming, you turned it back on.

“Let me listen to some music, God damn it!”

“No. It disturbs me. And I want to sleep.”

“Fuck you, dude, you’re not going to sleep! I don’t get to sleep either.” You switched it back on.

“Careful with your words. Or I’m going to have to make you pull over again and I’ll shove my fingers up your pussy until you learn your lesson!” He switched it back off.

“I won’t do shit” you cursed and turned it back on. He turned it off. On. Off. On. Off.

You’ve finally head enough.

Casting a death glare his way, your felt your sanity slip away from you and you hit the gas, pushing the pedal to the floor. You were going 10 over the limit, smiling at Henry wickedly.

“What are you doing?” He asked, alarmed. 20 over the limit.

“Either you’re going to leave me alone, or I’ll crash this fucking car.” 30 over the limit.

“Stop that, you crazy bitch! Stop it right now!” 40.

“Wrong answer.” 50.

The road was definitely slippery and you clutched the steering wheel tightly, staring ahead with a determined glint in your eyes.

“STOP THAT! Have you lost your mind?!” 60.

Henry didn’t know anything about cars. He didn’t know what the pedals did, what any of the buttons did or the clutch that you kept moving now and then. But one thing he knew, or so he thought. The lever on the center console was called ‘brake’, and he wanted you to brake.

And so, he pulled it.

The tires slipped on the wet road as Henry pulled the handbrake, screeching and howling in the dark of the night. Suddenly, you found yourself upside down as the car crashed into the guard rail, spinning over itself. For a second you were flying and didn’t even notice the screams that came out of both of your mouths. Then, glass splintered and the car’s roof came crashing down on you, making sharp pain erupt all over your jammed body.

The world became utterly black.

Chapter Text

*A knock on your door*

“Who's there?” Your head spun around and you nervously bit your lip, not expecting visitors at this hour. You had just returned to your room after a long and especially tiresome shift that had gnawed on your mind and constitution.

“It's me. Peter.”

“Oh!” You exclaimed and panicky looked around the small room. With a hasty motion you flung the white covers over the prominent debacle that had occurred sometime during the last night. You had awakened in a scenario that was in no way inferior to a slasher movie massacre, lying in a puddle of your own blood, harboring a dull yet stinging pain in your abdomen. It was alright, you just hadn't had time to clean up the mess yet.

“Come on in then” you reluctantly invited Peter inside. He really didn't need to see this.

The handle was pushed down and a white shadow emerged from the hallway, swiftly stepping inside. Your eyes didn't fail to miss how Peter locked the door behind him that had been previously unlocked. Even after his shift that had been even longer than yours, he looked nothing less than perfect. As if he buried every grain of fatigue and frustration deep beneath his facade of the ever-composed orderly. But one thing his facade could not conceal, and that was excitement at the sight of you.

“Is everything all right?” He asked sweetly with a tilt of his blond head, plump lips curled into a ruminative smile.

“Yes, absolutely.” You smiled back at him, almost mirroring his position with your hands clasped in front of your belt, like most orderlies had acquired a habit of doing. The fact that you wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower to ease some of the abdominal pain didn't seem important enough for you to mention.

“Are you sure?” Peter dug deeper and took a step towards you which shouldn't have seemed threatening to you, considering how close you and him were. But you couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine as you instinctively moved in front of the bed, positioning yourself between the man who made you feel so nervous and the place where the debacle had been so sloppily covered by you.

Of course, he noticed the tenseness in your body language, how your eyes kept darting around anxiously, the way you clasped your own hands a bit firmer than necessary, as if you were keeping a secret from him. And he hated when you kept a secret from him. And of course, he couldn't have that.

With a not so gentle hand on your arm, he pushed you aside and hostilely ogled the furniture that you had attempted shield from his eyes, scanning for your secret. With marksman's precision, his gaze landed on the one speck of blood that you had failed to cover up.

“It's not what-” You started a sentence but before you even got to finish, Peter grabbed a fistful of covers and yanked them away with agitation, revealing last night's mishap in all its humiliating glory. Your cheeks burned up with a shame that felt almost as red as the dried pool of crimson on the bed sheets. You almost felt a tear prick at the corner of your eye and you sealed up your throat, fearful of how your voice would sound like if you tried to speak and explain yourself. Peter really had a knack for discomposing you and something told you that he secretly enjoyed it.

Squeezing your own fingers, you regarded Peter's baffled and alert expression saw the cogs turning in his pretty head, as if he had an idea what he was looking at but he couldn't be entirely sure. He didn't meet your gaze, perhaps sensing that he was looking at something private and forbidden, not meant for his curious eyes.

“Is that...” He finally spoke up with breathy voice and you saw his Adam's apple bob, making him appear almost hungry as he soaked up the sight of blood with his cold eyes. “Are you... hurt?”

Your body tensed at the thrilled tinge that oscillated in Peter's voice, as if the fact that he had discovered a weakness of yours excited him morbidly, making you feel like a wounded antelope straying too close to a starved lion's den.

“I'm on my period” you quickly cleared your throat and explained. “It came upon me last night when I was asleep. I didn't notice until I woke up in the morning. I didn't have time to clean the sheets yet and I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“Oh. I see.”

You knew who he was, and you knew how long he had been here, when he had come here – being only a 12 year old boy then. There was no reason for him to be utterly informed about the nature of your monthly grievance, since the Lab's patients in their entirety were still too young to be burdened with symptoms of puberty. He knew about the matter, but not nearly enough to satisfy his bizarre curiosity. However, it was not his curiosity that flipped a switch in your mind.

His perilous nature shouldn't excite you this much, but the ache between your thighs was no longer of painful nature only. A familiar feeling beclouded your mind, numbed the discomfort by replacing it with something hot and yearning and sickening, regarding the circumstances. Why did your thighs tremble at the image of Peter ogling your blood with blown pupils? Why did your insides clench when he set his shrouded gaze on you thereon, eyes flickering between your parted lips and your hips, where he suspected more blood?

Your weak mind enjoyed being his prey, and his prey only.

“What is it like?”

“E-e-excuse me?”

“To bleed.”

“E-erm, it's not as gruesome as it looks. It hurts a bit, but don't be deluded by the amount of blood. It's only that much on the first and second day.”

“And today is that first day?” He inquired with tremulous voice.

“Y-yes, it is” you replied, and the wisps of your voice were drowned when Peter's lips landed on yours, moving fervently against the hot, moldable flesh of your mouth with urgency.

Not only did you know who he was, you also knew what he was. You recognized the meaning of the darkness spinning in his pupils, knew why he nipped on your lips with sharp teeth and held you by the meat of your hips with demonic possession. The sight of blood had awakened the predator in him, the stalking huntsman with a craving for violence. You hadn't seen him like this often, and never had you been the cause. Not until today.

Perhaps you should fear him, but that feeble voice was silenced when he started working on your belt and zipper as he kissed you, undoing them with the hands of a zealous man in search of his relic of holy blood.

Growing impatient, he dipped his entire hand into the front of your pants, instead of discarding the layers of fabric beforehand. He slipped his digits beneath your underwear despite your muted protest and promptly slid them through your folds. An involuntary growl fell off his pink lips upon the slick that immediately coated his fingers, feeling so very different from just regular arousal.

“Please don't” you begged feebly, attempting to withdraw from him, but his free hand was darting up to clutch your jaws, pressing down firmly enough to serve as warning. A gesture threatening enough to send an ignominious shudder to your burning core, close to where his fingers rested.

With a harsh grasp on your jaw, he forced you to keep eye contact as he dragged his digits along your slit, lightly grazing your clit in his wake which caused a broken moan to tumble off your tongue. Instinctively, you ground yourself against Peter's hand, gently rocking your hips, causing the man's lips split into a toothy, almost mocking, grin. A moment later, he had two long fingers buried in your cunt, easily sliding in thanks to the abundance of slippery wetness that coated your walls. Smirking, he set a sharp pace, relishing how very accessible and ready you were, how your wet cunt offered no resistance to his intrusions, as if it had been waiting for him.

As you devotedly hung in his grasp, a plethora of sounds escaped your lips, growing breathier and more incohesive the longer Peter kept up the tantalizing ministrations.

Suddenly, he yanked his digits out of your center with more force than necessary, causing a stream of liquid to pool out. The pad you were wearing could definitely not contain the sheer amount of that, and you could already feel the slick trickling down your skin in places where it didn't belong, staining your attire, making you feel yucky and dirty.

Languidly, Peter dragged his slick-coated fingers over your sensitive nerve bundle, making sure it was coated before he retrieved his hand entirely, besmearing your stomach and waistband in his wake. He held his veiny hand in front of his face and stared with awe. His pale fingers were now red like cherries, glistening in the white ceiling light. The blond man regarded them with the sanguinary eyes of a raptor, setting sight on a scurrying mouse. The scrunched nose of a white lion, inhaling the scent of his wounded prey. The smile of a hyena, stalking around an animal corpse.

Meanwhile, you crumbled with shame, wishing to be buried alive.

“I'll go c-clean myself up real quick” you attempted to excuse yourself and quickly scurry off the bathroom, but Peter's gory hand came to clasp your white-clad arm, forcing you to stop dead in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was dark and icy, brows knitted with disapproval.

“Bu-ut I'd like to shower. I feel dirty. Everything is going to look messy and obscene... I don't want you to see me like that.”

“Dirty?” Peter furrowed his brows. “It will look perfect.”

You burned up with anxiety as he ushered you away from the bathroom, forcing you towards the red-stained bed. Meanwhile, he tried making quick work of the buttons of your blouse, resisting the urge to just shred the garment apart and make the buttons scatter all over the place. With tainted hands, he maculated the clean fabric inch by inch until it fell of your shoulders, revealing shivering skin and the red patch he had left on your stomach a moment ago.

“Peter, I-” You started again, but found yourself being hushed. With demanding hands, he forced you down on the mattress, making you sit where the dried stain was. He helped along with his knee when you offered a little resistance, firmly but cautiously adjusting your position until you lied how he wanted you to – On your back, tits out, legs spread for him to take his place between them.

“Let me get a towel at least!” You pleaded. “If we do it like this, the stains will take forever to get out!”

“I'm sure you'll manage.” He replied with a condescending smirk which made you shoot daggers at him. Not even saying 'I'll help you', just 'You'll manage'. What an arrogant bastard. Seeing the aggravation in your eyes caused a mirthful sparkle to come about in his. One that made you regret all your life choices and wonder how you ever could have let it come this far.

However, your vitriolic thoughts were swept away when Peter hooked his fingertips beneath the waistband of your pants and panties and pulled everything to your ankles, discarding the garments. Whilst your own body now laid undressed in front of him, bare and vulnerable like an offering, he himself remained fully dressed – Even his shoes were still on, leaving dusty shoe prints on the white linen.

When he hooked his pale fingers around your thighs, spreading them apart for him to marvel at the view below him, it was almost ceremoniously. Like he was preparing himself for baptism, bathing in a sight he had never seen before. His eyes grew wide, pupils blown with morbid lust. The parts of your body that he knew so well now looked so very different. So inviting. So infatuating, even more so than when he normally buried himself between your willing legs.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, arousal and humiliation swirling in your core to form an intoxicating concoction which soon made you dizzy and light-headed. Yearningly, you arched your back, needing him to do anything except just stare at the gory mess you were.

As if waking from a blissful trance, Peter sprang into action at the sight of your squirming body, wordlessly begging for his caress. Finally, he went down on you to taste the forbidden fruit.

Reverently, he kissed along the inside of your thigh, almost shily lapping at a trace of blood that had trickled down there, soon finding his way to your center – glistening crimson and wet. Losing the initial hesitance, he licked a fierce line along your slit, tasting the concoction of blood and slick on his flattened tongue, and ultimately came to a rest on your throbbing clit. Immediately, you jolted beneath him, liquid pleasure running through your veins as you instinctively ground against his angel face buried in your cunt, chasing the high that he knew how to grant you so well with his tongue.

When you looked down and noticed the glistening specks and splatters of red on Peter's pale complexion as he ate you out with fervor, he almost looked like a cannibal, devouring one of his own. But was it truly cannibalism when he saw himself as one of a different species? As the only specimen of a superior type, rendering you nothing but a lower animal in his presence. Him lapping at your blood seemed no different than you sipping a cow's milk or chewing on a piece of meat. Somehow, the image was so disgraceful that it made your core clench with foul desire, and you slithered closer to edge of rapture.

Peter was now lapping and sucking so ardently, his blonde curls bounced with every jerk of his head, and the pads of his fingers were deeply digging into the meat of your thighs, keeping them spread wide. Every now and then, an excited groan escaped his busy mouth, bearing such lustful tremor that your toes curled almost automatically at the sound of it.

Peter was fascinated by your lifeblood being spilled, even if it wasn't by the liter, even if it didn't pour from your severed veins, even if it was mixed with fluids of other nature. It was still the biggest amount of your blood he would probably ever get to see, and he was enraptured. The only thing that irked him was that it wasn't spilled for him. It would always pour once a month, regardless of him. Unlike your orgasms – Those were for him only, caused by him only.

Smirking, he picked a fervid pace, licking hard circles over your clit while inserting two fingers into your soaking, leaking wetness. He sensed your body going tense, noticed how you elevated your hips, desperately rutting against him as you chased your high. Devotedly, he held the rhythm, listened to your moans growing higher and higher until they were barely audible –

And then you collapsed, pussy clenching around Peter's pumping digits as you came, releasing broken cries and pleas from the back of your throat. Your twitching center spilled even more liquid throughout your high, staining the sheets below and the pale face of the zealous man between your thighs. Finally, when the last raspy moan had left your lips and your worn-out body went slack, Peter arose from the hunched position and presented his face in all its gory beauty to you.

He was a fearsome sight, an artwork of Lucifer painted in red on white canvas. A vision of the sanguinary demon he was on the inside. The nightmarish bearer of hell on earth, only waiting for a chance to release it. There was hellfire swirling in his black eyes in deep sockets, a prophecy of what he was bound to become.

The man with the human facade unbuckled his own white slacks, carelessly staining the stark fabric in his wake. He didn't bother to discard any of his garments, not even flinching when he moved between your spread thighs where even more blood and slick made contact with the fabric of pants and dress-shirt.

It was like he wanted nothing more than to blemish the white of the sheets and his own clothing. He seemed endlessly enraptured by the sight of crimson on white, by this chaste color of innocence - which was a mere illusion anyway - being stained by something so carnal. Sex and blood. Perhaps the only two earthly pleasures this unearthly man enjoyed.

Finally, he retrieved his member from the confinement of his pants, hard as stone and eager to go into action, perhaps more eager than ever – knowing just what kind of gory, hot, wetness awaited him.

Without further teasing, Peter guided his cock to your soaked entrance, only having to push lightly for him to slip inside, forcing your slick walls apart more easily than ever before. Your head rolled back, exposing your delicate neck as a blissful moan rolled off your tongue and you reveled the feeling of being stretched so well.

Peter placed both hands on your waist, holding you tight as he picked a brisk pace, slamming himself inside you with urgent passion, producing an obscene sound upon each return.

Like he wanted to waste no time to fully claim the offering that was your body.  He growled with every rough thrust, hissed whenever he hit the very back of your core, and his expression was that of an animal, no matter how proudly he proclaimed himself a god. He was nothing but an animal in this moment, a carnal beast chasing its own high, so very primitive and biological. Perhaps you would rub it in his face later, if you were brave enough.

You didn't think you had ever bled this much, hadn't even known it was possible. Where your bodies were conjoined, it looked like a butcher's playground. A slippery red mess, glistening in a way that made you know that the concoction was made of fifty percent arousal slick at the minimum.

Suddenly, Peter's hands left their place on your waist, roaming over you instead, leaving bloody hand prints on your thorax as he groped your breasts with rough caress. The crimson imprints on your skin almost created the impression of a pagan ritual. Albeit it remained unclear who was worshipping who.

Peter smeared some of the crimson slick on your cheek, which caused a disgusted whine to escape your mouth and you struggled against his strong hold on your body, struggled against his hips which left and returned with never-ceasing vigor, slapping against the back of your thighs.

“Ssssshhh” he cooed, shushing your resistance with not even a word, just a sound, and the next slam of his hips into your aching center made your mouth fall open with pleasure, turned you back into docile mush.

It was gross, yes, but for him you would endure. Peter dragged his slick index finger across your cheek and neck, leaving a hot, sticky trail.

And then his blood-smeared lips were on yours, force-feeding you a taste you had never wanted to know. You cringed beneath him, squirming to evade the vile kiss, but Peter's bloody hand found its place on your jaws, keeping you in place as he forced his tongue inside your mouth and shoved the concoction down your tongue until you swallowed, shuddering.

His hips crashed into yours for a series of harsh thrusts, pelvic bones hitting your flesh so hard it almost hurt, but pain and pleasure were siblings anyway. Panting, Peter let go of your lips, although you remained connected by a string of pink saliva, and he gripped the sheets on either side of your head, rutting himself into your burning, trembling center with ferocious momentum.

Cries and pleas escaped your mouth, sweetly dancing in the air between you, caressing Peter’s ears with even more allure than your hands that ghosted over his shoulders in the looking for intimacy. The infatuating grimace of lust and longing on your face was enough for Peter to arrive at the edge of his high, lips split into a feral snarl.

Growling, he withdrew and pulled out his member, covered in blood, leaving you empty. He knelt between your legs, adamantly holding his cock in one hand and clutching your bent leg with the other, as if he was in desperate need for contact. Wearing a grimace of carnal pleasure, he pumped himself roughly, using your bloody slick as lube. It took no more than a few seconds for his hips to start jerking, and meanwhile his eyes were on yours, bearing an expression that said: 'Don't you dare look away from the one who owns you, who holds your life in his hands.'

And looking away was the last thing you wanted. Your eyes were glued on this ravishing creature above you who so desperately wanted to be beyond nature, yearned to leave humanness behind, but when he finally came, shooting cum all over your stomach, it was with a sound that revealed his utterly human and primitive nature. A sound that was meant for your ears alone. A proof of trust.

When he was finished, you just laid there, like a butchered lamb. Panting as if your lungs were bleeding and not your uterus.

Peter overlooked his handiwork, marveled at the way his semen was splattered over your stomach, intermingled with traces of blood and slick, slowly oozing down your side until the glob met the ruined mattress.

The man looked proud but also shocked, trying to hide the latter beneath the façade, but he couldn’t hide it from you. His marble eyes were big and round, as if he had just woken up from a trance, from a dark and twisted fantasy he had indulged in. You took no interest in learning what he might have imagined, already knowing it would disturb you to the bones. All you wanted was to rest.

To your own complete surprise, Peter carefully wrapped his arms around your fatigued body and scooped you up, holding you in a shaky embrace as his own arms were trembling from strain. He set you down in the bathroom and ushered you into the shower before discarding his own bloody garments, leaving them on a crumpled heap on the floor.

Finally, you got to enjoy the luxury of the shower you had been yearning to take all along. But now, it was with him. His tender hands that caressed your body underneath the hot steam, washing his own crimson imprints off your skin. Drowsily, you leaned into Peter’s comforting embrace and watched the red-stained water pour down the drain, until it turned pink, until there was no proof left of the bloody ritual you had attended.

Only the stains on the sheets remained, and perhaps those on your mind.

-

[This fic was originally inspired by twitter user @jamiebowerboo who posted *this* image of Henry with the caption "POV it’s that time of the month and Henry is the supportive bf" 😂😂]
--> https://twitter.com/jamiebowerboo/status/1569356358033768449/photo/1

Chapter Text

** Henry's POV **

Henry was on a date. On an actual date, with another human being. With you.

He could hardly believe it himself, and in fact it was your third date already. However, that caused him to be no less nervous than on your first and second date, because your presence caused a part of him to turn soft and anxious. He was tender for this person, who seemed just as tender as him, although their tenderness always lingered around them, making them vulnerable but also so very kind.

When he had looked into your mind back then, there had been honest and genuine interest. Not the morbid curiosity he frequently saw in other people's heads when they laid eyes on him. Many were interested, yes, but not in a way that was honorable. They just wanted to know what it was like, getting it on with the weird guy, driven by something that was always laced with disgust. They just wanted to know if it was true what people said – That Henry was different, and sinister. It sickened him to the bones, because he was nothing like that. Not the way everyone had decided to see him.

However, none of that mattered now, because he was on a date with someone who didn't carry an ounce of that prejudice in them, sauntering about the Museum of natural Science - his favorite place -, slowly nearing the animal department, where Henry had been itching to go all along.

He had felt proud and pleased when he watched the flustered warmth crawl over your face as he paid for your ticket. Finally, he had been able to put one of his father's well-meaning advices to good use.

'A gentleman takes over the cost.'

Perhaps Henry would call him sometimes, tell him he had been on a date. The old man would certainly be happy to hear it.

Suddenly, the back of your hand faintly brushed Henry's, and his nervous breath hitched in his throat. A coincidence? Or could you perhaps be seeking to hold his hand? The man's heart instantly thumped harder and faster as his brain released hormones into his system which gave him a feeling traditionally described as having butterflies. The term was not unfitting, and he did like butterflies a lot.

He took a cautious peek inside your mind, just to be sure, he told himself, not meaning to violate your privacy. But he was incredibly bad at reading social cues, so it was better to double check. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself, scare you off.

However, the swirling vortex of emotion in your mind revealed that you were desperately longing to hold his hand, yearning for so much more, in fact. He saw that your own insides were buzzing with a swarm of metaphorical butterflies and your brain seemed even mushier than his. He could practically hear the thundering of your own heart, anxious and wanting. The realization almost made the man gasp with overwhelm, but also relief.

Although he knew you wanted this, he was still nervous when he got over himself and brushed his hand against yours, insecurely lacing his long fingers with your smaller ones. To his great relief, you melted into the touch instantly and happily intertwined your fingers with his. From the corner of his eyes, he regarded you face. The warmth of your eyes looked beautiful beneath your lashes, especially paired with a smile.

Awkward but happily holding hands, the pair of you finally neared the crawly animal section, Henry's absolute favorite place inside this whole museum. The man felt his excitement rise, but also his anxiety levels, because the last thing he wanted was to put you off with his odd interests.

He wanted you to fully like him back so, so badly.

** Your POV**

The room you entered - more of a hall - was filled with rows and rows of cabinets, lining up one after another. Each and every one of them was filled to the brim with taxidermies of crawly creatures of all kinds, small and big ones, six-legged bugs, eight-legged spiders and even some specimen armed with a hundred little legs. Their colorful chitin shells reflected the bright sunlight that seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying every shimmering color of the rainbow. It was truly a sight to behold, but for some reason the hall was entirely empty except for the pair of you.

Henry's grasp on your hand tightened a little which immediately caused your poor, thrumming, lovestruck heart to flutter terribly. You followed closely as he pulled you along, positioning himself in front of the first cabinet. From the corner of your eyes, you saw the man's entire face light up at the sight of what seemed like his favorite department, and you almost failed to suppress the blissful sigh that was sitting on your tongue.

You vividly remembered what your room mates had said when you first told them about Henry.

'Don't go out with the weird guy. Weird things happen around him, unnatural things. Haven't you heard the rumors? Stay away from that Henry Creel.'

But you had never cared much about rumors, and you considered yourself a weird guy as well, having been called that yourself all throughout High-school. And anyway, what was weird about an introverted science student minding his own business? Spending his free time around the biology faculty and the museum, striving to become an entomologist? There was nothing wrong with that, and you genuinely didn't understand how anyone could have prejudice based on that.

And on top of being a reclusive, nature-loving soul, he was so cute. So very pretty, you were almost tempted to describe him as ravishing, if it didn't sound so awfully cheesy. You wanted nothing more than to get on your tippy toes and kiss his perfectly shaped, pink lips and run your hands through those blond, carefully styled locks.

How it was possible that there weren't hordes of girls launching themselves at the man surpassed your understanding. Was no one able to look past Henry's plain, 'boring' clothes and his solitary nature? Did no one but you see how incredible and perfect he was?

You gave the man a reassuring smile to let him know that you were very much interested in the bugs as well, and a good portion of nervousness fell off his face, revealing an expression so genuine and happy, your insides felt like mushy pudding, stirred by the ever-fast pounding of your yearning heart. When Henry brushed his pale thumb over the back of your hand, sending tingles through your nervous system, you could have crumbled and died right then and there, but the fact that he led you to the next row of cabinets prevented you from doing so.

“I- I think this one is very pretty” you picked up the courage to speak and pointed at one of the spiders on display. It was a scintillating creature of many colors, shimmering purple and blue but also red and orange. You had never seen one like this before. Henry seemed absolutely delighted by your interest in the animal and beckoned you to squat down next to him, allowing you to regard the spider better.

“Oh, yes, it really is pretty, isn't it?” He replied eagerly, starry eyes shifting between you and the creature. “It's a Chrysilla lauta, also referred to as Elegant golden jumping spider.”

Shyly, you turned to face him as he explained more details about the spider, looking so joyful, and you were glued to his lips. Entranced as you watched him speak, bewitched by the way his lips moved and parted, revealing glimpses of white, even teeth. You were so enchanted by his pleasant voice explaining away that you hardly registered the actual words that came out. All you could think of was what it would be like to kiss him, to bend over and taste his perfect lips right here and now.

God, you hadn't even shared a kiss yet, but your stomach was knotted with burning desire for the man anyhow, yearning for so much more than just his kissable, pink lips. You wanted him. You wanted him now. But did he want you as well?

Suddenly, as you were squatting next to each other, your knees brushed lightly and you almost doubled up from the pleasant shudder that ran down your spine and settled right into your core, causing your insides to turn hot and moistened. God, you had to get it together.

'It's the third date. Don't go! You know what happens on the third date.' Your roommates had warned you.

That was just a cliché. A silly cliché, but even if it wasn't... Would that be so terrible?

In fact, you had shaved your entire body before this date. Just in case. And perhaps you had been fantasizing about what it would be like. Just a little. Or perhaps a little bit more. In fact, the thought had been playing on a loop inside your mind, over and over and over again, as all you could think of was the wonderful, intelligent, beautiful man who for some reason had agreed to go on two – now three – dates with you.

You wanted him to like you back so, so badly, and the very last thing you wanted was for him to think you were just a slut, trying to get into his pants.

** Henry's POV **

When your knee brushed against his, a wildfire spread across Henry's nervous system, consuming him whole, and he failed to finish the elaborate description of the Chrysilla lauta's natural habitat. However, you didn't seem to care, or perhaps didn't even notice because your dreamy gaze was glued on his lips. You seemed so entranced, lost in deep thought. What could it be that you were day-dreaming about?

It was like he moved against his anxiously thundering heart which attempted to held him back by a chain, but it was that same heart that urged him to bring his face closer to yours, shrinking the distance inch by inch, second after second, heart roaring louder and louder with every passing moment. Henry saw your eyes become half-lidded, saw your lips part expectantly, noticed how you faintly tilted your head upwards, nervously breathing – shallow and fast.

Did you want this? Could you really be wanting Henry's lips on yours? Or was he misreading the signs, like he did so often? Cautiously, he wormed one metaphorical finger into your mind, navigating through the buzzing chaos that were your thoughts, feeling for something distinct that he could read.

‘Please, please, please, kiss me, please’

Ah, yes, there it was.

Henry didn't understand why he was still nervous, knowing that you wanted this. Perhaps it was something biological, coded into his DNA. No rational thought managed to calm his racing heart down when he finally closed the gap between the both of you and placed his lips on yours. You greeted him there with a soft gasp – One that stirred his blood and infused him the courage to place one hand on your cheek to pull you closer, to which you willingly complied.

The feeling that swirled around Henry's body and mind was intoxicating. Confusing and yet sublime. Like there was a flock of fireflies swirling around his belly, glowing bright and golden with every tiny sound of yours and every teasing motion of your lips. Henry's brain felt as if flooded with sparkling haziness, the noises from outside world were muffled while his whole attention rested on you and the way you felt – soft, tender, delicious, perfect.

Suddenly he found it much easier to move his lips against yours, filled with confidence in what he was doing, because he knew he was doing exactly what you had hoped for, what you wanted. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, curling his fingers into your hair, whilst the other one traveled to your waist, pulling you close until your chests were flush against each other. Your heartbeat was as fast as his own, and the taste of your lips was almost overwhelming when you wrapped your arms around Henry's neck fiercely. Suddenly, your tongue was flicking over his bottom lip, which stirred something deep inside his lower belly. Something that made the storm raging in his mind grow fierier, something that made him grab your waist harder, spurred by the way you sighed into his open mouth as your tongues met.

Henry saw your mind tumble helplessly, felt you fill up with even more craving that could not be stilled with kissing only. Your desire was raw and prominent, and a streak of need and devotion was laced through your stormy thoughts, something that called for him. Him, him, him. Needing him right there and right now.

But was he ready and willing to perform something so physical and carnal with this other human being just yet? Wasn't it too soon to encounter each other on such a fleshly level, shouldn't you connect your souls more before you connected your bodily vessels? But somehow, he already felt quite connected to your soul, as if you were infusing it into him through your mouth which was still on his.

Henry would have gladly spent more blissful hours and hours on your lips, getting drunk on the taste and on this tender feeling until the lights went dark, until the stars came out and you were the only visitors left. And then, yes, perhaps then...

His thoughts strayed further away, and he imagined the pair of you, still in the bug section, not a single soul around. In a rapture of mutual desire, Henry would be sprawled out on the wooden floor, lying on his back. Meanwhile, you would be straddling his hips, blouse undone, chest free. The pale moonlight would look so captivating on your bare skin, would bathe your bouncing flesh in bewitching, milky glow. Your skirt would be bunched up, beautifully revealing the meat of your thighs. He would run his hands over them, feel the softness of your skin, kneading, moving higher...

Yes, he would move higher and touch you there, where you needed him, caress you until you moaned sweetly for him. Henry's thoughts turned more ardent as he spun the image further. Suddenly, he imagined his belt being undone, pants unbuttoned, cock free and he would be buried deep inside you. God, what would you feel like? You would be riding him in the moonlight and your minds would be full of desire for each other.

'I want you, I need you, please take me, please have me, oh please, please, please' your mind rambled, inmost desires on open display for him, like a book. Never had your thoughts been easier to read than right now, almost as if the physical touch made your brain more accessible. Interesting.

Granted, Henry had more than just one metaphorical finger poked into your head by now. It was more like he had delved his entire hand inside, stirring the uninteresting thoughts out of the way until he reached the red-hot mess that was your arousal, crying for him loudly.

At this very moment, he grew aware of the erection wedged by his thigh, sitting tight and uncomfortable between fabric and skin. It was then when he realized, he couldn't wait for the moon to come out, didn't have the patience to hide away in here past opening time, just to indulge in a sappy fantasy. He wanted you now, physically and carnally, and he practically smelled you wanted the same.

If he still had a bigger amount of blood at his disposal to supply his brain, perhaps he would have realized that making out in a semi-public bathroom was not the most sensual way to spend your first time together, but he knew you didn't care. When your brain flared up with impatient desire and you rejoiced internally as Henry grabbed you by the hand and helped you on your feet, pulling you after him, he knew he had you.

“Sh-shouldn't we go home?” You asked almost shyly, not wanting him to think badly of you, but how could he ever, knowing that beautiful mind of yours?

“No...” Henry still wanted to look at the spiders some more, afterwards, and he wanted to do it with you, share his passion with you. Although he had to admit, looking at you was almost as pleasant as regarding the animals that fascinated him so much. No one had ever looked at him so happily before, and that filled his chest with something warm and pleasant that could only be described as affection, on top of the physical want that consumed his body. Perhaps even something more than that. A romantic craving.

However, when the two of you came to a halt in front of a secluded pair of bathrooms, it could hardly be considered romantic.

** Your POV*

“Which one?” Henry asked uncertainly

“Men's bathroom.” You swiftly decided. “From my own experience, women run to the bathroom all the time. Men, not so much.” When Henry still seemed to hesitate, you promptly grabbed him by the sleeve of his pullover and guided him inside.  Blessedly, all cabins seemed unoccupied and the bathroom looked very clean.

You caught the reflection of your date and you in the mirror, and this third person view allowed you to realize once more how much taller than you the man was, appearing almost gangly with long, sinewy limbs, hidden by a plain pair of jeans, dress-shirt and a knitted pullover on top. Despite Henry's casual appearance and the look of boyish innocence on his face, there was something predatory about him. A stray curl of dirty blonde color hung on his forehead and his blue eyes behind the thin-framed glasses seemed darker in the mirror, black almost. Disturbing, if it weren't for his arms that snuck around your waist from behind, distracting you.

The man seemed likewise entranced by your reflection, holding your gaze consistently while he placed an almost chaste kiss on your temple with his full, pink lips that stood in sharp contrast to his angular jaws. However, there was nothing chaste about it when his crotch grazed your behind and you clearly noticed there was something hard and promising confined in his jeans, waiting for you.

“For once I'm happy that no one except me seems to care about bugs and spiders” he murmured into your ear, placing another hurried kiss there.

“Oh? Why is that?” You rasped, breath hitching as you intentionally moved your bum backwards, teasingly pushing up against his constrained cock, educing a beautiful little grunt from the blond man.

“Because no one ever uses the bathroom in this wing. It's just you and me.”

You pleasantly shuddered at his words and offered no resistance when Henry ushered you into one of the cabins with firm hands on your waist, locking the door behind you. A millisecond later, his lips were back on yours, soft but demanding, burning with need, tasting so heavenly. When he placed one hand on the back of your head, curling his fingers into your hair to pull oh-so-lightly, your mouth automatically fell open for a yearning moan, thighs trembling and center throbbing with lust as you found yourself being pushed up against the thin wall. Until suddenly, Henry removed his lips abruptly.

“Shit...” The man cursed unexpectedly, looking almost panicky with disappointment.

“What? What's wrong?” Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firmness of his lithe physique despite the thick fabric covering him.

“I... don't have any, uh... condoms” Henry admitted, teeth gritted as he failed to hold your gaze. He looked devastated.

Smirking, you moved your hands further up and ran your fingertips along the edge of his tense jaws, regarding his crumbling face. He looked so sad, as if he feared he had ruined his chances with you once and for all, like you wouldn't grab him by the sleeve and drag him to the nearest drug store just to buy some. But luckily, you weren't in need of condoms anyway.

“I'm on birth control” you explained, voice warbled with nerves. Of course, birth control pills couldn't keep you from catching STDs, but you didn't take Henry for someone to screw around much. In fact... You wondered if he ever had. There certainly was a tinge of anxiety on his features, even after realizing that the date was not ruined.

“O-o-oh, you mean? We can still...?” The flustered look looked perfect on him.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Please, I... need you.”

With a sudden burst of confidence, you placed your hand on his clothed erection, palming him with relish, tracing the outline of his hard cock. Oh, you were sure he would feel so good, buried inside your cunt.

** Henry's POV **

You said you needed him. Needed him.

Henry was almost certain that no one had ever needed him, but now this beautiful person before him claimed they did. And they actually did. Their soul screamed for him. When suddenly your palm was on his crotch, an uncontrolled gasp escaped his mouth. His whole mind seemed to go blank, blinding out everything except the carnal feeling that unfurled from where you were palming his confined cock, causing him to rut hips into your hand almost automatically, driven by the animal that had replaced his rational mind.

Moaning, his head rolled back, revealing his neck to you while his hands remained flat on the dividing wall on either side of your head, caging you in although it seemed like you were the one in control. A moment later, your lips were on his neck, sucking hot patches, teeth ghosting over his bobbing Adam’s apple. A shiver ran down his spine, followed by another moan and a rut against your hand, but there was something else, his voice of reason knocking on his mind, reproachful and wary.

Yes, you had said you were on birth control. And even though his insides were screaming otherwise, Henry wouldn’t be stupid enough to believe you just like that. The horrific thought of an offspring running around hit him, just because he had blindly and foolishly trusted someone's mere word.

He should stop digging in your thoughts, and he would. After he had found what he was looking for. Henry smashed his lips on yours, pleased to hear you moan the moment your mouths were connected, remembering that the intimate physical contact had made it easier for him to read your mind. However, it turned out impossible to find a specific information in the lust-entangled maze of your thoughts. So, he had to go for a more direct route.

“Do you promise that you’re on birth contr-ahh!” Henry’s voice got stuck in his throat when suddenly your hand squeezed around the hard line of his cock. The tightness of his pants almost hurt, and with every stroke of your hand the feeling only grew worse.

“I promise!” You eagerly mumbled against his warm lips and in this moment, Henry succeeded in reading your most present sentiment off your brain. Honesty.

Yes. You were telling the truth, it was safe, and there was not one single reason left to hold back.

Immediately, Henry’s lips were back on yours, hard this time, kissing you sloppily and greedily and he knew you liked it, made overt by your labored breath, your pounding heart and your hot skin. Your flesh was burning when his palm found your thigh, greedily sliding beneath your skirt and further up, up, up, until he found what he had been searching for. Your center was solely covered by a thin layer of fabric, damp and warm. You loudly gasped into his mouth upon contact, when his fingertips grazed your clothed cunt. He could smell your eagerness, your impatience.

There was no room for anxiety, no time to worry about doing something wrong, or being too inexperienced. He just did what felt right, perhaps following a secret code, hidden away in his human DNA, or perhaps he was guided by your sweet moans as he listened to your body speak.

When he pushed the fabric of your panties aside, he found you wet and warm and ready, and his cock jumped painfully when he greedily slipped his digits between your folds, stroking through your wetness. His mind rejoiced whenever your body flinched beneath his caress and you rutted your hips against his hand in need for more touch.

Hmm, where... Ah! Henry found the right angle and curled his fingers upwards and worked his way into your center, being rewarded with a beautiful, breathless gasp from your mouth. While attacking your neck with kisses, he firmly pushed further and felt your tight walls constricting around him until he was knuckles-deep. There, he curled his fingers some more, experimented, until he was satisfied with the sounds you were making.

The mere realization of having his fingers in such a private place filled him with nothing short of euphoria, so he started rutting them, quickly settling on a fast, steady pace that you seemed to enjoy. It might have been a delusion, but it felt like you were growing wetter and slicker by the second.

Finally, your own fingers that had been frozen in place from being so blissed out from his caress, resumed their task. With frantic hands, you fumbled with Henry’s belt and button, and your eyes seemed almost crazed with lust when you finally managed to free him. A heartbeat later, your hand was wrapped around his hard length, squeezing tightly. Immediately, you began jerking him off and Henry couldn’t help but grunt like an animal, brain turned into a glob of jelly as he mindlessly rutted into your hand, chasing the painfully pleasant feeling that was waiting and growing in his core, all the while keeping his fingers buried in your wet cunt.

Suddenly, he found himself being twirled around and forced to sit on the closed toilet lid. Definitely not the sexiest place for pouncing on each other, but Henry’s mind was blank and he felt too stupid to think, every thought consumed by the overwhelming need to fuck you. You seemed equally frenzied, but perhaps your thinking brain was still halfway functional, because you wore a ruminative expression, thinking hard for a moment.

Then, you swiftly spun around and lifted your skirt for a brief but oh-so-torturous moment. Henry only caught a short glimpse, but the sight of your ass underneath the skirt - panties pushed aside, revealing slick, puffy folds – was nothing short of divine. But what followed directly after was even better than divine. It was a feeling out of this world. He shuddered when the head of his cock encountered your wetness for the first time, even hotter than he imagined. A second later, he was fully engulfed by you, cock buried deep inside your slick cunt, torturously confined from every side and angle, and your pretty ass was seated on his lap, tormenting him with how good you looked.

Henry didn’t hesitate for a second and immediately grabbed you by the meat of your hips on either side with large, firm hands, relishing how warm and smooth your skin felt. He wanted to tell you all that, let you know how divine you felt and how beautiful you looked, but his brain was so lust-filled and hazy, no coherent word found its way out, only grunts and groans and hisses as he was consumed by desire to empty his cock inside you while keeping you so close that none of your gasps and mewls would be missed by his ears.

“God, fuck!” You panted when he slowly helped you up, dragging your walls along his aching cock before slamming you back down with a sound that could only be described as obscene.

** Your POV **

It felt like your mind was a sponge, drenched with raw bliss and want, overflowing so much that your pussy was dripping, making it easy for Henry to slip in and out. Who would have thought that this sweet and polite-looking man would turn into such an animal? You were cheering internally, rejoicing with delight whenever he dragged you back down on his thick cock, piercing you open and forcing your slick walls apart.

You tried your best to keep up with the fierce pace, had your feet planted on the ground and your hands on his knees for support, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. Soon, you were panting like a bitch in heat, sweat collecting on your forehead and cleavage. Pitiful moans rolled off your tongue whenever Henry's hips snapped upwards, forcing you to take just a little more than you could, but it hurt so well, the feeling only made you drip more and clench around him harder.

This unscratchable itch sat deep inside your abdomen, glowing and buzzing brighter with every passing moment, brisked up by the panting man behind you, by his rough hands on your hips and because of how incredibly full and well-stretched his cock made you feel. God, you wanted to cum around him -

Suddenly, an unexpected sound caught your attention, made your heart thunder panicky with cold anxiety. A door was being opened. Someone was coming in!

Henry reacted immediately and clamped one large, pale hand over your mouth, muffling the sound of surprise that would have almost escaped you. You found your legs being grabbed by the knee pits and yanked in the air, so your feet wouldn't be seen through the crack beneath the door. Now, you were hanging there, helplessly resting on Henry's lap with no support of your own, held solely by his arms – And his cock was still buried deep inside you, twitching.

Thank God the person who entered only busied themselves by the urinal and left the cabins unheeded. Perhaps they hadn't even noticed that there was someone else in here. However, they surely would notice soon if Henry kept fucking teasing you like that.

He was inconspicuously bobbing his legs, making you bounce on his lap oh so lightly, which was enough to make you want to spew curses at him for being such a god-awful tease. Despite not moving much, you felt the presence of his thick cock stuffed inside you even more distinctly than before, stretching you agonizingly as he gently rocked your crouched body on his lap.

Your dizzy head rolled back, resting on Henry's shoulder and from the corner of your eye you clearly saw him smirk as he slightly picked up the pace, withdrawing and returning about an inch of him upon each quiet thrust. As if he knew there was a whimper sitting on your tongue, he clamped his palm over your mouth harder, suffocating the sound. God, that man seemed to like living dangerously.

He lightly turned his face, hushing a barely audible “ssshhh” into your ear – A warning that somehow sounded almost threatening, which immediately made your insides clench around him with lust. Now it was him who had to suppress a grunt, but you heard him breathe heavily into your ear, shuddering with pleasure as you did it again – purposefully this time. Henry bit your ear lobe in response, containing your surprised squeak with the palm of his hand. You considered biting his hand in return, but all of a sudden it was gone, leaving you gasping for air.

A door snapped shut. The intruder had left.

A fragment of a second later, your feet were being released on the ground and Henry's hands were back on your hips, holding you even tighter than before, slamming you down while his own hips were jerking up. Your mouth fell open for a series of gasps and curses, containing his name among other things.

“Moan for me” Henry demanded, and you willingly followed his command. “Fuck, you f-feel, so good.” His breath was labored, his own gasps hard and fast as if he was close to his release. Suddenly, one hand left your hip alone and erratically trailed over your body, squeezing your flesh in different places, firmly pinching your nipple over your bra which made you squeak and clench around his thrusting cock. Snarling, his hand trailed higher until his fingers came to a halt on your neck, loosely holding you there, as if he was experimenting to see what you enjoyed. God, yes.

“Y-you f-feel so good too!” You mewled. “A-and you f-fuck me so well. Oh... God... Henry, please...”

The ache in your lower belly was burning bright and torturous, and even though it felt nothing less than divine, being fucked into pieces by him, the environment didn't exactly make it easy to relax – Especially fearing that another person could enter at any moment. Nonetheless, you snaked one hand between your legs and rubbed your clit.

** Henry's POV **

If it was possible to prolong this any further, he would. But everything inside him screamed and demanded to go over that tempting edge, to fully lose himself of you in an act of raw, carnal bliss. Even the thought of stopping or slowing down made his cock jump defiantly, and Henry realized that he simply wasn't strong-willed enough to wait any longer. How could he, when you felt so divine, squeezing around every inch of him with that tight, hot, wet pussy of yours? He needed his release and he needed it now, like a greedy, hungry animal, sprinting towards its feeding through.

“I'm gonna... May I? Inside?” He somehow managed to stammer, voice heavy with strain.

“Y-yes, please! Cum inside me. I need you” you mewled in response. “I want it all.”

That was enough for Henry to come undone in a heartbeat, and the orgasm that overcame him was so intense, it was almost too much. All his muscles cramped when his cock released a load of hot semen deep into your center, pleasure unfurling and exploding with the force of a supernova. His head rolled back with an overwhelmed groan, resting exhaustedly against the cold, tiled wall.

Lazily, his hands ghosted over your hips which had come to a rest, eyes half-lidded as his mind swam with blissful satisfaction and fulfillment. He felt sleepy. And you looked so incredibly beautiful, face flustered, hair ruffled, clothes crumpled. With a smile that he found hard to read, you stood up and let his cock slip out of your slick center. A soft groan escaped his mouth upon being released.

He watched entranced as a glob of cum dribbled down your inner thigh, feeling almost disappointed when you noticed and reached for a piece of toilet paper and swiped it off. Henry comforted himself with the thought that there was still enough of him inside you. Something about the mental image was so enticing to him that his cock twitched for a second, but it wasn't enough to make him spring to new life already. He would still be able to fill you up often enough, if you let him.

“Okay, um...” You spoke up, looking hesitant, as if you were waiting for something. “I will... go to the Ladies' bathroom for a moment and, um, clean myself up, okay?”

“Yes, of course.” Henry nodded sleepily, wanting to reach out for you to kiss you, but you had already unlocked the door and slipped away.

** Your POV **

You took a generous amount of time to get yourself cleaned, tidy your clothes and fix your hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Meanwhile, you were trying to digest the mixed feelings that were brewing up inside you. It had been... incredible, no doubt. Both of you had been absolutely crazy for the other one, unable to wait until the end of the day. And, of course, it wasn't exactly easy to let loose in a place like that – a public bathroom.

But it wasn't the fact that you didn't cum which disturbed you. It was the fact that Henry hadn't even asked if you were finished, if there was still something he could do for you. Sighing, you smoothed down the last strand of stray hair and decided that you probably shouldn't let him wait any longer.

When you stepped out onto the hallway, Henry was patiently waiting for you, holding his hands clasped in front of his belt, looking unfairly adorable. His hair seemed more tousled than before, and a nervous smile spread across his handsome face upon setting eyes on you, as if he still couldn't believe what just happened. A part of you couldn't either.

“Hey there” Henry greeted you awkwardly, grinning sweetly, so you decided to play your card and let him know that this was much more than a one-time-thing to you.

“Would you like to, um, come home with me?” You asked nervously but hopefully, still carrying this knot of unresolved arousal in your stomach, burning even hotter than before, and you wanted Henry to help you get rid of it. He would surely say yes.

Henry however – to your utter dismay - seemed indecisive. “I, uh, I'm not sure” he replied insecurely, eyes straying to the bug section longingly.

“Oh. Okay...” Disappointment unfurled in your chest, foul and cold and stinging. So, he didn't care about your own pleasure after all, didn't even bother asking about it, ignored your quite obvious invitation. “Never mind” you pouted full of hurt. “Let's go back to the insects then.”

Perhaps your room mates had been right all along. Henry was just another man, perhaps slightly odder than the rest, who had been polite enough to wait for the third date to fuck. And now that he was done with you, he wanted to go back to his beloved bugs. You couldn't believe how easily you had been lulled by him, how you had romanticized him and his otherness, thinking that he was somehow purer and different from the rest. After all, he seemed just the same.

Henry wore a concentrated expression, as if he was trying to decipher something on your face (in your mind) but just couldn't make sense of it for the life of him.

“I-, I just thought we still have time left before the museum closes... A-and I paid for those tickets after all.”

“Yeah, I... understand that” you replied with a curt nod, wearing a sour, thin-lipped fake smile.

“Okay.” He eventually gave you a shy smile of his own and hesitantly reached for your stiff hand, holding it softly as he guided you back to the large, wooden room, bathed in afternoon light. The room, however, had lost its beauty and fascination to you. Now, the look of adoration in Henry's eyes upon settling down in front of the cabinets irked you, instead of making you happy. You hid your bitter expression when he awkwardly wrapped his arm around you and prompted you to kneel down in front of a large showcase with him.

“Here, look at this one” Henry spoke cheerfully and pointed at a shimmering bug. “It has a pretty color don't you think?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, and the one over here – super rare! Did you know it only exists on one single island in the Indian sea?” He explained away, getting more and more excited along the way. “And that one here-”

“Actually, you know what, I think I should go” you announced sourly, interrupting him, and rose to your feet, leaving behind an extremely baffled blond man with big eyes. “Let me pay you back for that ticket...” You reached for your purse and started rummaging around until you found a ten-dollar bill.

“N-n-no, I didn't mean it like that!” Panicky, Henry stood up as well and warded off your bill-bearing hand, desperately maneuvering out of the way as if the piece of paper was coated with toxin. “I didn't mind paying for the tickets! I swear I didn't. I-, I-, I really wanted to invite you out.”

“Please, take it back. It's a personal need of mine to repay you.” You grimly held the banknote out to him “The fact that you spent money on me makes me feel like a prostitute” you snarled, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

“What?!” Henry seemed absolutely in dismay now, face falling apart with confusion and sadness. “Why on earth are you saying that?” His eyes frantically darted from left to right, as if he was once again trying and failing to read a secret off your face. “I... I thought you also... wanted this? Did you not want this?”

“I did!” You hissed and threw the banknote in front of his feet when he still refused to accept it.

“Then I'm afraid I don't seem to u-understand what the problem is. Tell me, please? I'm so bad at things like this.”

“Tsk” was the only sound you found yourself capable of making, because your throat was already laced with tears. You just wanted to go home and forget about this day.

“Please?” The tall man helplessly shrugged his shoulders, suddenly looking small.

“Well, you had your fun there, didn't you?!” You somehow managed to articulate a full sentence, but your voice was teary and you hated yourself for it. Of course, you had allowed a random man to hurt you once again.

“Y-yes, I had?” He still seemed perplexed. “Did you...not?”

“Tsk.” You didn't want to start crying in front of him, so you merely spun around, deciding that you had tried your hardest and that your own pride was too precious to be trampled on by this man. You started walking away, but after a few meters, his voice made you stop in your tracks.

“Oh God, wait, please! I get it now. Fuck, I'm so sorry!” You froze, waiting for him to elaborate. “You mean you didn't...? You didn't, uh...? I messed up, didn't I?”

You slowly turned around, still remaining stoically silent because you didn't trust your own voice to come out clear and steady. But Henry seemed to sense that he was on the right track.

“I'm... I'm sorry. I should have tried harder in there... To make you... Um... You know” he stammered, turning beet-red. “I, uh, I'm a little ashamed to say it but, uh, I don't have awfully much... experience... yet. And I kind of just assumed... you... finished as well. I'm so sorry.”

You exhaled deeply, and the vile fist that had been clenched around your heart muscle loosened its grasp. So, he did understand what the issue was, after all, and you could hardly stay mad at him, although a small part of you wanted to.

“You could have... at least asked me if I finished.” You awkwardly wiped a stray tear off your face. “And I thought that hint about coming home with me was rather obvious...”

“Looking back, it really was. I'm so sorry that it didn't get it. I'm just... horribly stupid, when it comes to... social stuff.”

“You're not stupid!” You interrupted and finally sought his gaze, looking straight into Henry's deep-blue eyes with your tearful ones. “Don't say that. I don't like it when you say that.”

“Please don't cry” he pleaded and you could tell he felt horrible, which resulted in you feeling horrible for making him feel horrible.

“S-sorry for being so dramatic” you apologized, half smiling while more tears poured out of your eyes – tears of embarrassment this time round.  “What... What was that about that bug that only lives on a single island in the Indian ocean?” You knelt down in front of the exhibits, focusing your eyes on the little creatures inside.

“No, no, no, we don't have to stay here! We can go home right now, i-if you still want me” Henry panicky declared and backed away from the cabinets.

“Of course, I still want you. But I also want to know about this bug.” You meant it.

“A-are you absolutely sure about that?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Okay...” He seemed to think for a moment and knelt down besides you, shyly seeking your hand with his. “Kiss me please?”

He didn't have to tell you twice, so you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his mouth, feeling how the remaining anxiety left your body when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close, comfortingly caressing your back. A minute later, you broke apart, gasping for air.

“What if we... stayed here a little while longer, and then went to my home instead of yours?” Henry proposed hopefully. “I don't have any room mates.” Strange, you had never told him about your roommates... Whatever.

“Yes, I'd love that.”

Several hours later

** Henry's POV **

The pale moonshine seeping through the window looked nothing less than ethereal on your body – Utterly naked, sprawled out on top of the clean sheets on Henry's bed, eyes closed, lips parted for a sensual sigh as he was kissing down your body, worshiping every inch of it to make up for his stupid earlier mistake. He wanted to make you feel like a goddess, like you deserved.

After a good number of minutes, the man's lips finally reached the place where he knew you craved his touch the most, but first he kissed along your inner thighs, paying attention to every square inch around your aching center which already glistened wet with arousal.

Good. He was proud of himself for making you feel this way with nothing but kisses on your body. But now it was time for a confession, although he was afraid of how you might react. He wanted to be honest with you.

“I'm not entirely sure what to do” the man admitted, and his cheeks burned up in the darkness. He was embarrassed, but he had never orally pleased anyone before. Nervously, he placed another kiss on your inner thigh to keep himself busy. You sighed in response.

“Don't worry.” You whispered, and he shuddered at how pleasant (and aroused) your voice sounded. Suddenly, your hand was on his head, entangled in his blonde hair, and you gently guided him to where you needed him. “Why don't you just... try something out. I'm sure you will be able to tell from my reaction what I like most.”

“O-okay.” Henry whispered nervously, breath fanning your waiting pussy as you guided him even closer. “D-do I just... kiss you there?” He placed a chaste kiss on the nub which he knew was the most sensitive part down there. You winced in response, gasping with pleasure, so he assumed you liked that – and did it again, kissing you a bit firmer this time.

“Y-yes, that works, b-but you can also use your... tongue” you explained between gasps and gently rocked your hips against his face, longing for more touch. All the foreplay seemed to have fulfilled its purpose.

“Oh... like this?” Henry cautiously swiped his tongue over the nub and was thrilled to see your hips jolt in response. Meanwhile, a heavy moan escaped your mouth which was music to his ears, so he repeated the motion eagerly. He liked how your skin tasted there. It was like nothing he had ever tasted before, and he already knew he was going to become addicted. If you let him, he would eat you out as often as he could.

“Oh God, y-yes, j-just like that” you gasped and your hips began squirming, so he placed both hands on your thighs, keeping them spread while simultaneously keeping your hips down.

Eagerly, the man buried his head between your thighs, determined to put his tongue to very good use since you seemed to enjoy it so much. He placed a number of kitten licks on your clit and relished feeling you squirm and twitch every time. After a little while, however, he found the motion to be quite exhausting, so he tried keeping his head still while swirling his tongue around your nub in circular motion.

“O-oh, yes...” you sighed in response and tugged on his hair, shoving his face firmer against your center. Rejoicing internally, Henry decided to double his efforts and increased the speed of the motion, flicking his tongue over your clit with fast circles which seemed to drive you crazy, as a plethora of “Oh God's” and “Henry's” escaped your parted lips. However, he wasn't done experimenting yet.

So, tried going moving  a bit further south and went for your wet slit instead, licking lines there, tasting your essence which he found absolutely heavenly. You seemed to enjoy that as well, however, your body always seemed to jolt especially hard when he returned back to your clit, so he decided to settle on that.

There was something so incredibly intimate about having his face between your legs, of being allowed to taste and caress the most private parts of your body, Henry actually felt honored. He could picture himself on his knees, slipping his head under your skirt to eat you out and make you feel good. The mental image made his hard cock jump painfully, but he was once again confined by the stiff fabric of his pants.

Determinedly, he shoved the thought of his own need for pleasure aside and fully focused back on you. He wanted to make you feel twice as good as you had made him feel earlier, because you deserved it.

** Your POV **

A tormented moan left your lips when Henry's mouth was back on your clit, eagerly swirling his tongue over the nub in a way that made your toes and fingers curl. You harshly tugged on his hair and wantonly thrust your hips upwards, grinding against his pretty face.

“Oh gosh, please, just like that” you begged, feeling your release in reach, if only he kept going just like that. “Please don't stop, oh God, yes, j-just like th-that!” Henry seemed eager to obey your command, and his hands were firmly keeping your thighs spread while he kept a perfectly steady rhythm on your clit, pleasing you like it was his last task on earth.

The pleasure in your abdomen was rising, building up at a slow and agonizing pace which seemed so very different from the way how male orgasms worked. “Please don't stop” you begged again, fearing that he might get experimental again and accidentally tear you away from your high, but Henry remained perfectly good and kept the rhythm exactly the same. Only his hands dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, holding you eagerly.

Your hips were writhing, gently elevating as your pleasure was rising higher, like a wave of an impending tsunami that made you grip the sheets, grip his hair, caused your mouth to fall open for a silent scream for something that wasn't quite there yet.

Suddenly, Henry moved one hand and you wanted to curse because he had disrupted your concentration, but somehow he still managed to keep the rhythm of his tongue steady. You jumped when the tips of two fingers nudged your lower lips apart and prodded at your slick entrance, slipping inside quite easily. He picked a gentle, teasing pace, thrusting and curling his fingers lightly while stretching you enough to tantalizingly add to your pleasure.

“Ahh, oh God, yes... F-fuck yes, j-j-j-just like that” you panted and ground yourself against his face, raising your hips in needy manner. “I'm gonna... Oh, fuck yes, m'gonna... gonna... AH!”

With a deep, guttural moan, mouth hanging open, the tsunami wave that was your orgasm finally crashed down on you and your body violently shuddered and twitched beneath Henry's caress. Your pussy clenched fast and hard around his thrusting fingers, and before you could do anything against it, you felt yourself squirt all over his hands and face as another wave of pleasure rolled over you.

Full of embarrassment, you buried your face in your hands but Henry didn't seem to mind one bit. On the very contrary – He seemed delighted, proud, eager, and lapped  at you like he wanted to savor every last drop of your essence. Eventually, your body slackened and you weakly twitched and shuddered upon each return of Henry's tongue, tingling with over-stimulation.

“Oh, God, that was perfect” you finally gasped and weakly tugged on his curls in an attempt to make him stop. When he retrieved his face from your center, meeting your gaze, there was still wetness of yours on his skin, glistening in the moonlight. Your cheeks warmed violently upon the sight that he was.

“Was it really?” He inquired, smiling proudly, expression turning smug when he saw you nod. Swiftly, he rose on his hands and knees and sloppily wiped his face clean with his bare forearm before fumbling with his belt and button. “Please, may I?” He asked pleadingly and you noticed his fingers were trembling a little when he finally pulled down the zipper, eager and ready to free his cock whose hard outline was visible despite the sparse light.

“Yes, of course, please... Come here.” Willingly, you spread your legs wide, inviting him. A heartbeat later, Henry's clothes were on the floor and he climbed on top of you, resting between your legs. The velvety head of his cock prodded your slippery center and a synchronized moan of anticipation escaped both of your mouths. Eagerly, you slipped one hand between your legs and firmly grabbed his cock, lining him up with your entrance, encouraging him to push.

Henry followed your guidance with no hesitation, breaching you easily thanks to how wet and ready you were. Moaning, you wrapped your legs around his slim waist while he slipped his whole length into you, stretching you beautifully. Loosely, you wrapped your arms around the man's neck as well, pulling him in for a kiss as he began thrusting. He looked absolutely beautiful like that, moonshine on his messy curls, face flustered, moans breathy as he slammed himself into you, chasing his own high now and you wanted him to have it.

“You are… so special” Henry suddenly spoke up, gasping. He looked utterly starstruck.

“I don't know what you mean” you giggled, smiling stupidly as you pulled him closer, heart thrumming fast.

 “I’m so sorry I didn’t take good care of you earlier” he apologized ruefully. “I promise I’ll try harder from now on. I want to take such good care of you.” Something about that statement made your insides clench around him and your heart flutter. You moaned into his kissing mouth.

“I p-promise it's alright! Don't worry. We can... take care of each other!” You exclaimed eagerly. “D-do you want me to get on top and ride you? Take care of you?”

“But you already did that” Henry smirked playfully, sending an extra sharp thrust into your wet center. “I would like to be on top, if you don't mind.”

“I a-absolutely don't mind” you mewled and dug your nails into his lithe back as your body was being ground into the mattress upon each thrust.

“Good. Your face looks so pretty when I-I'm fucking you.”

“O-oh God, really? B-but not as pretty as yours” you responded, wildly flustered.

“F-fuck, you're gonna be the d-death of me. How do you feel so... good. God, you're incredible.”

“And you are wonderful” you moaned, pulling his hips along by keeping your legs tightly wrapped around him. “You feel a-amazing. Please... Cum inside me again.” Henry hissed in response, hips stuttering for a moment before he regained control of himself.

“Fuck, sweetheart” he hissed. “I won't last another minute if you say things like that.”

“Then don't hold back. I want you to feel good!” You intentionally clenched around him while encouraging him to keep thrusting by digging your heels into the meat of his ass.

“Sh-shit” he cursed, burying his face in your neck, every muscle strained. “Aren't you going to think I'm a bad f-fuck if I cum so quickly?”

“First of all, you're a great fuck, and second of all, you're so much more than that, silly!” You tugged on his curls, making him retrieve his face from the crook of your neck. “Kiss me when you cum, please?”

Moaning, he complied and smashed his lips on yours, kissing you sloppily while his thrusts became faster and harder, slamming himself into your hot, wet center with urgency. A moment later, his rhythm became erratic and you spurred him on, whispering into his mouth.

“Cum in me, please! I... want to h-have it inside.”

Henry couldn't hold back any longer and bit down on your bottom lip, fisting one hand into your hair, pulling harshly while he emptied his cock inside you with a series of sharp, sloppy thrusts. Breathing heavily, he collapsed on top of you and you distinctly felt the hammering of his heart, sealed away by his sweaty chest. With gentle arms, you held him close and buried your face in his messy hair.

For a while, the two of your remained still, holding each other tight while allowing your bodies to cool off and your breathing to calm down, but Henry seemed nervous.

“D-do you want me to, uh, drive you home?” He asked and his heart rate picked up. You hesitated. “I- I- I mean, you're absolutely invited to stay the night if you want to. We could have... breakfast together when we wake up. I mean, we don't have to, but I would... like that.”

“I would love to stay the night and have breakfast with you” you happily giggled into his hair. “Actually, I think we should... frequently have breakfast together.”

“Really?” Henry beamed at you brightly, full of hope.

“Yes, absolutely.” You held him tight and placed an affectionate kiss on his lips, which he returned eagerly, smiling into the kiss.

When you eventually drifted to sleep, there was moonshine on the both of you, gently illuminating your lovingly entangled bodies.

Chapter Text

Peter strode down the hallway, conveying impatience and urgency in his movement as the sound of his hurried steps echoed off the blank walls. Behind him laid a long day of unrewarding, repetitive and dehumanizing work, forced to supervise and assist in cruel experiments declared as 'games', serving the purpose of pitting the children against each other and stimulating competitive behavior. Peter hated it with every fiber of his being. In fact, he was bored to death by this disgusting showcase of human incompetence, - On the part of the scientists as well as the children who would never achieve his own greatness.

Lately, there has been only one way to fight his boredom and his dwindling mental health, and that was you. You, who had to do nothing in particular to entice him, who had to cast a mere glance his way to make his cock grow stiff in his pants, who were lucky enough to have an office with no cameras inside. You – the permanent itch in the back of his head, which only grew stronger as the days and weeks went by. Peter had expected to grow bored of you after a couple of times, thought this would be nothing but a curious phase but he found he had gotten addicted with no desire to fight this addiction.

You were the only sort of entertainment he has ever had in here, so naturally you were the only thing on his mind, invading his thoughts during lonely nights in his cell, occupying them during tiresome shifts which made him lose his mind.

As he determinedly round the last corners, the only thing he was hyper-focused on was his own cock which was uncomfortably wedged between his thigh and underwear, scrubbing against his skin with every step. It was torment. His cock has been solid for the past hour at least and Peter was dying to bury himself in your cunt to feel something and go through a rush of euphoria or perhaps two. He thought he deserved it, although he didn't understand why you were so petulant sometimes.

He didn't want to hear any of your “Peter, you can't just”s and “Peter, I have to”s and “Peter, what if”s. All he wanted was to mindlessly fuck your brains out until his cock was empty and you were utterly overstimulated from having orgasm after orgasm by his hand.

Finally, he reached your office's door and his fingers were twitching like those of a true addict when he pushed down the handle.

*** Your POV ***

“Hey, doll”.

You jumped with fright when suddenly the office door was slammed open and the tall, blond orderly named Peter Ballard appeared in the door frame, wasting no time to ask if you were free and if he was allowed to enter. Peter entered anyway and was audacious enough to lock the door behind himself.

“Peter, you can't just barge in here and claim my time and attention whenever you please” you scolded him angrily which only caused an irked expression to bloom on his handsome features. That's how it always started, and it always ended the same, too.

“I've had a long day...” He explained impatiently, tilting his head while moving forward, closing in on you like a stalking carnivore on a foal, ready to feast.

“Well, so have I. You're not the only one who's working around here. I'm not here for fun and I'll get in serious trouble if I don't -”

Suddenly, you found yourself being being walked backwards by veiny hands on your waist until you hit the edge of the desk, whereupon Peter swiftly flipped you around and bent you over the tabletop. A heartbeat later, his crotch was flush against your ass, grinding against your soft flesh which he found so very enticing. The excited gasp which was about to slip out of your mouth was silenced by a large hand being firmly placed over your lips.

“The kids are done playing. It's daddy's turn to play now.”

Instantaneously, your lower belly churned with arousal, causing a shudder to run down your body which settled inside your core in the shape of a dull, burning ache. Automatically, your ass writhed back and met hardness, being rewarded by a teasing thrust of Peter's still clothed hips. His tone of voice just did something to you, whenever he stomped into your office and slipped the polite orderly facade off like a second skin, whenever he called himself by that cursed name.

Peter found it strangely ironic to label himself that way, as something he never wanted to be – In a context that seemed utterly inappropriate, which only made it more morbidly enticing and dirty. And with you, he loved everything that was dirty. Everything to shake off this fake-friendly and polite costume he was forced to wear and showcase day after day after day. Peter found himself wanting to try things that he never would have even considered previous to knowing you, not even in his fantasy. And he was surprised to realize how many of them he ended up enjoying and craving to repeat – much to your delight, and sometimes to your dismay.

“Look at you, sweetheart. Why do you even still try to deny me every day, hm? You know I'll have you anyway, because you can't get enough of it” he purred, satisfied to see your initial stubbornness swim away.

The hand on your mouth contained your hot, flustered breath as he continued grinding himself against the curve of your ass, free hand coming to roam along your side until it reached the waistband of your pants, playing with it teasingly. The friction on your core, coming from the fabric of your pants as well as the hardness of Peter's confined cock, made your arousal grow slowly and relentlessly, like gentle winds stirring a calm sea until it became stormy and tempestuous; like grains of sand, falling and piling up to form a dune bound to crash if only enough sand was added.

“Please...” You muttered into the palm of his hand, clawing at the desk for support. With every teasing motion of him, the mess inside your panties was growing hotter and slicker until you could barely endure, wriggling your ass impatiently in hopes of coaxing yourself closer to the release which laid still buried deep inside your cunt.

“Hmm” Peter hummed with amusement. “Let's see if you have been a good girl then, shall we?” He swiftly took a small step back and reached around your hips to undo your trousers. Shuddering, you moaned loudly when one hand nonchalantly slipped beneath the fabric and teased you over your panties with three fingers on your aching clit. Immediately, you ground yourself firmer against him, rutting desperately as thought after thought abandoned your lust-filled, blurry mind.

“Oh, G-G-God, Peter... I...” You rambled mindlessly as your mouth fell open. Peter only chuckled in response, amused and satisfied by how easily your body responded to his touch. He loved how much of a malleable and needy thing you were for him.

“Have you been wearing them?” He leaned closer, purring into your ear with low voice.

“Ah-a-about that...I have, b-but... Ah!” You winced with pleasure under the pressure of Peter's demanding fingertips while simultaneously trying to suppress the flare of of fear and regret that made your heart start pounding twice as fast.

“But what?! Angel? Have you been naughty?!” Peter's tone of voice instantly shifted from sweet-talking to threatening. There was this sinister undertone which only came out occasionally and you were ashamed to admit that this particular side of him made you want to give all of yourself to him, devote yourself to him and do anything to please him. Today, however, Peter was not pleased with you and you didn't dare turn around and look into his livid eyes.

“They- They grew so annoying throughout the day” you mewled and weakly tried to explain yourself. “I-it was becoming s-so uncomfortable, I-, I had to...”

“So, you had to take them out, huh?!” Peter left your clit alone and frantically shoved your underwear aside to brush his fingers through the wetness between your swollen folds only to find nothing where the retrieval cord of the toy should have been. He even pushed one finger up your waiting heat in inquisitorial manner, completely ignoring your lust-filled moan for more, finding nothing except your hot, spongy wetness which engulfed his digit.

Enraged, he slipped back out, reached for the waistband of your pants and jerked them down to your knees. With genuine bafflement he realized that your slick cunt was in fact utterly devoid of the love balls he had inserted in the early morning hours before his shift. He had enjoyed seeing you whine and squirm and grow wetter and slicker as he teased your willing pussy open with the toy, over and over again, until it was fully settled inside of you – three linked, weighted balls nestled deep inside your cunt to keep you wet and horny while he was away. His disappointment upon finding out you had disobeyed was considerable.

“Bad girl” he scolded you with low, vibrating voice, unable to contain his flaring ire. Following his first instinct, he landed a blow on your exposed pussy with the flat of his hand, where the toy should have been. You flinched hard in response, shrieking with surprise and and pleasant pain. Automatically, your thighs moved flush together in an attempt to hide your puffy center from Peter as you were still bent over the desk. “No, no, no, don't even think about it, spread those legs wide and let me see that filthy pussy of yours!”

You obeyed, whining and flinching when a second slap landed on your center with a wet, lewd sound. “Bad girl, bad fucking girl!” Two more blows landed on your swollen folds, harder than the previous ones, causing tears to gather in the corners of your eyes and your toes to curl while your hips squirmed beneath Peter's punishment.

“Please, I'm sorry” you mewled tearfully and arched your back, indecisive whether you needed more or if the stinging pain was too much. Peter's hand made contact with your throbbing pussy once again which made a strangled moan escape your throat. You didn't have to take a look to know that your center was hot and swollen – and dripping wet.

“You filthy girl, you love this” Peter commented and lightly patted your pussy with the flat of his hand in a way that felt close to humiliating, especially thanks to the wet sounds which resounded from your slippery, sensitive flesh. You desperately needed him to fill you up, to shove his fingers knuckle-deep inside you and fuck you roughly until you saw stars behind closed eyelids – but Peter was far from being done with you.

“Seems like I need to think of a better punishment then.” You practically heard the smirk and excitement in his voice. Whining, you squirmed on the tabletop when Peter withdrew his hands, and whines turned into sharp inhales when you heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone, followed by the leather being slipped out of the loops.

The cracking sound of leather hitting leather made you flinch with fright and you buried your face in your hands, expecting a painful lash on your ass anytime. Suddenly, Peter's hand was on your bum cheek, groping the tender flesh in appreciative manner. You could only assume it was no coincidence when his teasing hand briefly brushed against your burning center which lay swollen between your cheeks.

“Are you going to take it like a good girl?” He asked darkly while gently rubbing the belt's cool leather along the curve of your ass. Weakly, you nodded your head, barely visible thanks to how you kept your face flush against the tabletop.

“Excuse me, sweetheart? Are you going to take your punishment like a good girl?!”

“Y-yes, Daddy.” You gulped hard, fearing and anticipating the pleasurable pain which was bound to come.

“Good.”

Only a heartbeat later, the belt made harsh contact with your tender flesh, bruising both cheeks at once. A loud shriek escaped your mouth and you flinched hard, futilely attempting to wriggle out of the way before the second blow met your skin. This one hurt even more and the sound of leather hitting flesh was sharp in your ears.

“Ow, fuck!” You whined with trembling voice and squeezed your thighs together, biting your own tongue to distract yourself from the burning pain on your ass.

“Keep your legs spread, slut. Don't hide your pussy from me” Peter berated you angrily. Reluctantly, you parted your thighs wide again and put your slick center on full display, only to be rewarded with another burst of stinging pain when Peter's belt made contact with your ass again, this time also grazing your already swollen pussy. You flinched hard, howling with pain and arousal and wanted to curl up into a ball while simultaneously longing for him to punish you more.

“Where are they?” Peter suddenly asked and brushed his fingertips through your throbbing folds with surprising tenderness, easing the pain away and replacing it with raw arousal – the greediest and most primitive kind. When he pried you open with middle and index finger and easily inserted both into your dripping heat, thrusting softly, it was like your soul left your body along with every coherent thought.

“I asked you something” Peter snarled and roughly kneaded the bruised flesh of your ass with his free hand.

“I-in the bottom desk drawer. I c-cleaned them after t-taking them out” you forced out between huffs and mewls, automatically rutting backwards to meet the rhythm of his pumping fingers. When he slipped them out, leaving you empty and desperate, you mewled loudly, complaining. “P-please, no, I'm s-so sorry! D-don't punish me, I need you.”

The drawer where not only the love balls were stowed away but also several other toys that Peter had made you buy was being opened and the man quickly found the freshly cleaned object he was looking for. You briefly shuddered when the cool, smooth material made contact with your hot, slick center.

“Please, please, please” you begged again, but the first ball was already being inserted into your well-prepared hole. Gasping, you squirmed helplessly when your walls were being stretched apart as the second ball slipped inside, making you feel full thanks to the weight and circumference of the toy. Only the third ball was still outside, sitting big and round between your puffy folds. Although you didn't dare look behind you, Peter's fiendish satisfaction upon seeing you so wet and disheveled was blatant.

You wriggled your ass impatiently and moaned loudly when he spread your cheeks apart with both hands to marvel at the way the toy was half inserted and driving you crazy with its mere presence. Suddenly, he lightly tugged on it, pulling the second ball halfway out, stretching your slick hole only to shove it back inside. He repeated the the process several times, humming smugly whenever another plea rolled off your tongue. Finally, Peter pushed the third and final ball up your aching walls and appreciatively patted your pussy once more, pleased to see it so wonderfully swollen and glistening all thanks to him.

“This is where it should have been all day, you naughty girl” he declared fiendishly and landed a blow on your bruised ass with the palm of his hand.

“S-s-sorry, Daddy!” You yelped while squirming beneath the rough, stinging touch.

“Say it louder.” Peter spanked your burning flesh again, right over the bruises his belt had left, one smack on the right, one on the left and one in the middle, hitting right on your clit which made your aching walls clench around the weighted toy which teased you with every tiny squirm of your body.

“Sorry Daddy! I'm s-s-so sorry. AH! Please, I- AH! Plll-e-a-se!” You begged desperately, tears gathering on your waterline and streaming down your face when more spanks followed, loudly hitting every square inch of sensitive flesh until your entire behind was hot and stinging and your own slick was dripping down the toy's retrieval cord. And then finally Peter was done and marveled at his hand prints on your burning skin and at the way your thighs were trembling horribly as you tried to keep them spread and open for him.

“Good girl. Did you learn your lesson?” He inquired while rummaging around the desk drawer in search for another toy.

“Yes, I did” you sniveled into the tabletop where your head still rested. Appreciatively, Peter caressed your bruised skin with large hands, softly rubbing over the stinging flesh, but he made no move to remove the love balls which were still tormenting you from the inside, causing more and more slick to gather with every passing second. When was he finally going fuck you?!

“A-aren't you going to take them out?” You asked feebly, wriggling your ass.

“No. They stay inside your dirty little pussy until I decide you've had enough, understand?” Threateningly, he slipped one finger between your folds and found your entrance, pushing the cursed toy just a tiny bit deeper inside.

“Y-yes, Daddy, sorry, Daddy.”

“Smart girl.” Finally, he found what he was looking for in the drawer and retrieved it with an excited smirk. You didn't recognize what it was at first, but quickly did when he switched it on and a familiar buzzing sound met your ears. A filthy moan escaped your mouth when Peter pressed the vibrator on your inner thigh, sending tingles through your tormented body as he slowly moved it higher, towards your throbbing, aching center.

“Pl-lease, n-no, not like that. I-i-it's going to make a mess.” You desperately and greedily wanted to cum, you needed it with every fiber of your lust-blinded body, but the orgasms you were able to have with the aid of the vibrator were violent and you didn't want to squirt all over the desk and floor again.

“You mean you are going to make a mess?” Peter inquired with a smug undertone and placed his free hand on your ass, kneading, spreading it apart to grant him better view as he maneuvered the toy towards your pussy.

“Y-yes, oh God!” You howled out when the vibrator made contact with your swollen clit, buzzing on the lowest setting. “I'm going t-to m-make a m-mess, pluh-please, I don't-, I can't-” You rambled mindlessly as your toes were already beginning to curl and your back was arching automatically. Every passing moment violently pushed you closer to your approaching release and you had zero control over it, as if you were a mere puppet in Peter's hands and no amount of writhing and squirming made him withdraw the torturously buzzing toy which sent tingles of pleasure through your ablaze nervous system.

“What a needy, filthy slut you are” he commented, grinning audibly. “Getting off on being spanked. You're already going to cum, aren't you? After not even half a minute? God, you're so desperate, it's almost funny.” Humiliation washed over your body, but your mind quickly went blank when Peter switched the vibrator to the second setting. A strangled sound sat in your throat as you threw your head back and clutched at the desk with claw-like fingers. The pleasure in your lower belly was swirling and growing like a stormy vortex, consuming every thought of yours as you felt your orgasm approach with overwhelming force, lighting your nerve ends on fire.

Then, it overtook you like a tsunami as the relentless buzzing of the toy send you over the edge. Your pussy violently clenched around the inserted love balls while a plethora of guttural moans fled from your throat. With no control over your own bodily functions, you squirted all over the floor and felt it running down your legs hot and wet; more liquid with every clench of your walls.

“Yeah, good girl, good fucking girl, squirt it all out.” Peter marveled at the mess you had made, praising you with gravelly voice. “Look what a messy slut you are.”

“S-sorry” you whined exhaustedly, shuddering and wincing as your high slowly subsided, but the vibrator was still on you, sending more and more tremors through your sweat-coated body.

“Oh, don't apologize, darling. Daddy loves it when you're making a mess. And I know you've got more to give, come on. That wasn't everything you have.”

“N-no, please” you whined pathetically and quite literally screamed when Peter switched to the third setting, the one that was sheer torment on your overstimulated clit. You squirmed hard in an attempt to slide off the desk, but a harsh slap on your bruised ass made you cease the flight attempt and scoot back on the tabletop with your behind on display.

“Be a good girl for Daddy and stay where you are. I need you to make everything dirty. Can you do that for me?”

“Mmm-hmm! I will t-try.” You nodded weakly, muscles flexing with every painful tremor that ran through your body but the vibrator was quick to cast the feeling of overstimulation away, replacing it with another flame of white-hot arousal, churning and burning deep inside your core.

“I know you can do it. Come on, babygirl, don't you want to make Daddy proud?”

As the flame grew brighter, you spread your thighs wide, arched your back desperately and released every pitiful mewl, moan and groan that was forming in your throat. “Oh God, oh my God, P-Peter, oh God, don't stop, i-i-it's coming, I'm so close.”

Peter slightly increased the pressure of the buzzing toy on your clit and even bent down, inspecting closely how your body shuddered and twitched as your second climax approached unstoppably with rapid speed. If you weren't on the brink of mindless euphoria, you might have felt self-conscious to have your cunt under such obscenely close inspection, but none of that mattered as a fire storm tugged on your nerve ends, seconds away from setting your whole system ablaze for the second time within minutes.

“There you go, baby, you're almost there. Cum for me, don't hold back.”

A heartbeat later, the relentless buzzing accompanied by Peter's hauntingly sweet voice pushed you over the edge again, plunged your mind and body into a pit of blissful heat as your abdomen was flaring like a bonfire. With every clench of your overstimulated walls, another gush of hot slick squirted out of you, staining Peter's hand, the floor, the desk you were bent over and your own thighs. Your juices were running down your legs, dampening your pants which were still gathered around your knees. Full of shame, you mewled when Peter finally removed the vibrator from your clit and put it aside on the desk, right next to your face for you to see just how slick-coated it was.

“I need to clean this up...” You mumbled breathlessly and attempted to climb off the desk once again, only to be stopped by two harsh smacks on your ass.

“Is that what we say after being allowed to cum twice?! I thought I taught you better than this.” Another slap on your sore flesh.

“S-s-sorry, I'm sorry!” You yelped out, writhing.

“What do we say, hm?!”

“Th-thank you...”

“Thank me properly, slut. Or do I need to spank you with the belt again?!”

“N-n-no! No, I'm so sorry! Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for making me c-cum twice, even though I d-didn't deserve it. A-and thank you for punishing me.”

“That's better” he smirked at your obedient tone of voice and rubbed soothing circles over your bruised skin which sent tingles of fresh arousal into your core. “That's my good little girl. You know where you belong.” Suddenly, he wrapped his hand around the love balls' retrieval cord and tugged lightly, causing your still throbbing center to clench hard around the toy as if your body didn't want to give it back. Peter tugged harder, slowly but determinedly teased you open until the first ball slipped out which made a guttural sound of relief escape your throat. He took a generous minute to tease the second ball out of you, continuously stretching you open before letting it slip back inside. Even though had just cum twice, you were a panting, squirming mess by the time he had finally slipped the third and final ball out of your cunt.

Appreciatively he held it close to his starry-eyed face, admiring the way it was glistening wetly with your slick. You laid still, not daring to attempt another escape. All you could do was hope that he was finally going to fuck you, like you had yearned for all along. Suddenly, his hand was back on your behind and slipped between your folds, rubbing you teasingly as he gathered some of your slick with his fingertips. Then, he moved higher. What was he -?!

“Since you didn't want to keep them in your dirty little cunt today, perhaps we should put them in a different place then for the rest of the night, hm?!”

“What?!” You exclaimed panicky and jerked hard in a futile attempt to writhe away from Peter's eager grasp on you. “No, no, no – nope! Not happening! I- Ah!” The string of complaints was cut short when a shudder of unfamiliar pleasure ran through your body.

Peter's slick-coated thumb had slid all the way up to the place he was eager to explore and he was rubbing teasing circles around the entrance there. You failed to understand why it felt good, but you suddenly found your body relaxing into his touch, found your core clenching lightly as a curious, nervous wave of arousal embraced your system.

“Sssshhh. See? This isn't so bad” Peter cooed from behind you and gently pushed down without pushing inside yet, causing a shameful mewl to escape your throat.

“I-, I'm not sure about this” you whined and arched your back when he pushed down again, teasing your hole and the nerve ends there with the pad of his thumb.

“I wouldn't do this if I didn't think you would enjoy it. So be a good girl and trust me, alright?”

“A-a-alright, Daddy” you whispered defeated and allowed him to play with you however he liked. Satisfied, Peter finally angled his thumb and pushed hard enough for the tip of his digit to slip inside, causing an insecure but aroused sigh to roll of your tongue. Slowly, he withdrew and returned, setting a careful rhythm to stretch you out – and you couldn't help but realize that you actually enjoyed it.

“Such a good, obedient girl” Peter praised you with excitement as he watched his digit disappear inside you over and over again while you squirmed and whined with arousal. His cock twitched in his pants, impatient and angry from being restrained for so long, but seeing you become undone and consenting to try even the dirtiest things made it all worth it.

With his free hand he brought the love balls between your legs and brushed them along your slick core, coating them with fresh layers of wetness. Then, he carefully withdrew his thumb from you and brought the toy up between your cheeks, gently pressing down, teasing you.

“Peter...” you panted breathlessly, shuddering beneath the feeling of a foreign object prodding at your hole.

“Sssshhh. You can take them. I know it.” He purred and pressed down harder, firmly keeping your writhing hips in place with his free hand. You found yourself being stretched open bit by bit, and although the feeling was unfamiliar, it was undeniably pleasant in a way that made you feel filthy, but you craved this new type of pleasure nonetheless. A loud gasp escaped you when suddenly the first ball finally slipped inside and your hole contracted immediately after, tightly confining the first part of the toy within you.

Peter chuckled lightly at your aroused and shame-filled demeanor and lightly tugged on the toy, causing a strangely pleasant feeling to tingle along your nerve tracts back there. Your core was throbbing with burning arousal when the second ball prodded at your hole, guided by Peter's eager hand. Moaning and squirming you kept your eyes tightly shut and your brows furrowed when you were being stretched open anew, slowly and teasingly until the second ball slipped inside as well, moving the first one further up.

“O-oh, oh God” you mewled as your body automatically clenched around the intruding object which only caused another shudder of unfamiliar pleasure to ripple along your core.

“You're doing so good, my filthy little girl. Let's get the third one inside as well.”

“I-I'm not sure if I can take it” you mumbled with strain and arousal in your voice, still involuntarily clenching around the toy – and Peter noticed.

“You can. And you could take even more... Why don't you go and get us another toy when you're out, next time?” The man chuckled and guided the final ball to your entrance, pushing firmly. “I'm going to fill all of your holes however I please, understand?!”

“Y-y-yes, Daddy, I understand” you mewled defeated and buried your face in your arms. Suddenly, the prodding feeling subsided and Peter swiftly bend down to work your right leg out of your shoe and trousers. Swiftly, he grabbed it by the knee pit and lifted it up on the desk which exposed your behind even more.

“I want to see” he mumbled and resumed his work on the toy, inspecting closely how your hole widened and stretched around the ball the harder he pressed down. Meanwhile, you were burning up with shame and primitive arousal, not resisting however. Finally, it slipped inside and you exhaled a loud, guttural moan, squirming and writhing because the odd feeling of enticing fullness which teased your nerve ends.

“I... It's so full” you whined and writhed against the table, searching for ways to ease the dull but tantalizing arousal in your core.

“I'm going to make you even fuller” Peter growled and you heard his pants being unzipped. With a guttural sound, he finally retrieved his rock-hard, aching cock and gave himself a few harsh strokes before prodding your cunt. The head of his dick easily slipped between your drenched folds and it only took him a few lazy swipes to coat himself with your slick.

“Oh my God, yes, please fuck me already!” You cried out, grinding your hips back in an attempt to make him fill you up.

“That's not how I taught you to beg” Peter tut-tutted and gave the toy in your ass a playful tug which made your head roll to the side as a string of pleas and nonsense escaped your mouth. “Say it right!” He demanded.

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

Peter growled, satisfied, and finally slammed himself inside your pussy which was still slippery and aching from the previous orgasms. Your slick walls unresistingly made way for his cock and he only stopped when he was buried balls-deep. He held you roughly by the meat of your hips and immediately set a fast pace, slipping out about halfway before thrusting back inside over and over again.

Meanwhile, moan after breathless moan left your lips and you had to hold onto the edge of the desk for support or else his rough thrusts would have sent you sliding over the tabletop. Your core was fluttering and tingling with pleasure upon each return of his thick member, stretching you apart so wonderfully. With each pound, his balls slapped your center and his pelvis hit your ass, where the toy was buried. Pleasant shudders tormented your body because the additional fullness was so utterly stimulating, it drove you mad, because this feeling was constant and lingering, which made it all the more agonizing.

“You look so good, sweetheart” Peter praised with a growl on his lips. “Your cunt is stuffed, your ass is stuffed, you look like a needy little whore.”

Your core clenched at the sound of such lewd words, which caused Peter to chuckle darkly. Suddenly, he reached around you and grasped the object which still rested close to your face – the vibrator.

“O-oh my God, no, please” you begged weakly but before you could protest any further, the toy was already on your clit, buzzing on the lowest setting. Instantaneously, your pussy grew tighter as the vibrating stimulation caused your core to constrict with building arousal. Automatically, your head fell back and a number of “Oh”s and “Ah”s and incoherent curses escaped you while you arched your back.

Peter pounded into you hard and fast, roughly holding you by the hip with one hand while pressing the vibrator on your clit with the other hand. Ignoring your pleas for mercy, he switched to the second setting and relished seeing you squirm harder and your hands search for anything to grasp, finding nothing. His own desperate need for release was growing bigger and hotter by the second, so he gave you no time to adjust and switched to the third setting. The vibration was so hard, he felt it himself, as it was being transmitted through your trembling body into his own.

It only took a small number of seconds for your moans to grow high-pitched and breathy until they were barely audible. Your back was arched so much, it almost looked unnatural and Peter knew you were about to lose it.

“Cum on Daddy's cock, you filthy slut.”

With that, you exploded around him, clenching and twitching hard and fast, moaning and crying loudly while another gush of slick squirted out of you, staining Peter's pants while moistening his cock. The fervent clenching of your walls never stopped while he firmly kept the vibrator on your clit, pressing down hard despite your desperate struggles. He wanted you to be utterly fucked-out and brainless when he was done with you, and he knew he was close to achieving his goal.

Growling, Peter left your hip alone and grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking your head back to reveal your blissed-out expression and crossed, glossy eyes.

“Again, whore” he commanded and rubbed hard circles over your clit with the vibrator while continuing to pound into your slippery cunt. Instantaneously, the fourth wave of overwhelming pleasure engulfed you, causing your entire worn-out body to flinch and jerk violently with every tremor of your walls. Moaning breathlessly, you limply hung in Peter's grasp, mouth open, drool running down your chin. There was neither resistance nor energy left inside of you; You had given him your everything.

Finally satisfied, Peter switched the toy off and put it aside. “Good girl, good girl” he praised you profoundly. “I'm so proud of you.” You mewled weakly in response, bathing in the aftershocks of your climaxes.

“Th-thank you, Daddy...”

“Oh, fuck, you're such a good girl, I'm gonna-” He growled with low voice and held your hips with both hands as his thrusts grew erratic. “Do you think you earned my cum inside you?!” He panted, barely able to hold back.

“Yes, yes, please!” You nodded as fervently as your worn-out body allowed. “Please, let me have your cum” you begged, and that was all it took for Peter to tumble over the edge. With a series of rough thrusts, he emptied his twitching cock inside you, coating your walls with his semen.

Panting, he collapsed on top of your for a moment and rested his forehead against your spine to catch his breath. Meanwhile, your own body finally got the chance to cool off as well and exhaustion crawled over you, engulfing you like a thick, heavy blanket. Peter continued to praise you profoundly while lifting himself off you and slipping his cock out of you with a wet sound.

“So full of my cum” he muttered appreciatively and proudly regarded your sore center, watching entranced as a droplet of cum trickled down your folds. Smirking, Henry caught it with the tip of his finger and guided it back inside your entrance and pushed it back inside; chuckling when he heard your whiny protest. He gave your pussy another appreciative pat, causing you to wince and whine once more, before finally pulling away.

“Don't move, let Daddy clean you up.” Peter shuffled away to grab some tissues and a washcloth.

You remained still, sighing quietly and you could have fallen asleep right then and there, on top of the files that still needed to be worked on. You told yourself that you would resist him tomorrow, that you wouldn't let him have his way with you so easily, but you already knew you would fail. You always did.

Chapter Text

“Come on, come on, come on!” You quietly begged, speaking to no one in particular, as a hot tear streamed down your cheek. With your free hand, you reached for the bottle of cooking oil which was almost empty (Oh God, no, no, no!) and poured a little more over your aching hand, tearing on it as if your life depended on it (it did).

Henry had shackled you to the heating pipe, like he always did when he left the house, which was usually only ever to buy groceries. Luckily for you, the pipe never turned very hot, so your skin remained unharmed whenever you got shackled – How generous of him. Or perhaps a mere coincidence, because it also meant that the large, drafty rooms of Creel Manor never warmed up properly as soon as autumn came upon Hawkins. And winter was even worse – So much worse. Especially since Henry wanted you to wear those ghastly 50s dressed, even in the dead of winter (“But you look so pretty in them”). Dresses that were meant to be worn by happy housewives in well heated homes, and not by… Whatever you were to him.

You had always known there was a way to wrench your hand out of the iron shackle, but for that you needed patience and time. Time that you didn’t have enough of when Henry darted for the little grocery store close by, only to return 15-20 minutes later. You needed time and you needed a carefully constructed plan. One that involved getting some sort of lubricant up here and keeping it well-hidden until the time of escape would finally come.

In lack of other options, you had swiped a small bottle of edible oil from the kitchen in a moment of inattentiveness for his part, when he had dozed off on the couch in front of the fire place during a stormy night. Again, in lack of other options, you had hidden the bottle behind the heating body, which was the only place you could even reach while being shackled to the pipe. If Henry spotted this (fairly easily discoverable) proof of your betrayal, you knew you had to expect a punishment like no other.

You were a terribly liar, so of course Henry had noticed that you acted weirdly as soon as he woke up and found you on the other end of the couch, nervously averting your eyes. Lucky for you, he had only assumed that your strange behavior stemmed from the fact that he had snoozed and rendered himself vulnerable to you. Retrospectively, you wondered why you hadn’t grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed him there. Naturally, the man did not miss the opportunity to ungently assert his dominance over you after this slip up on his side. As if it was your fault that he had grown negligent.

And then, after countless hours of begging, batting your eyes and doing favors for him, you had finally convinced Henry to go to the movie rental store and get you a spooky movie to watch with him on the couch. The leaves outside the window had turned yellow, orange and brown, so you could only assume that Halloween (your favorite holiday back when you were a child) season was upon you, although there was no up-to-date calendar at the house to tell you which exact day it was (or which year).

Thanks to what little knowledge of Hawkins’ layout you still had from your childhood days, you knew that Creel Manor was a good 45 minutes by foot away from city center, where the movie rental was located – or so you assumed. You were 99 percent sure of it, but that one percent was enough to drive your heartrate up into unknown heights, thundering behind the bars of your rib cage as you fought tooth and nail against the metal shackle around your wrist.

When Henry left, he had given you a kiss on the forehead with a glint in his eyes that said: ‘I’m going to fuck you on the couch while you try to watch this movie that I don’t care about.’ If he came home and found you with your hand drenched with oil, struggling against the restraint (against him), he would probably fuck you raw and never let you see the light of day again.

“Come on! Shit, shit, shit, get off already!” You cursed into the empty room, voice quavering from the rush of adrenaline. Fully intended to endure every torment on your body as long as it meant becoming free, you folded your thumb under your palm and pulled hard, feeling your skin bruise and tear, felt your bones scrape against metal as you tugged (pain, pain, pain, stop!) You screamed full of frustration because it was not enough. How much time had passed already?!

In a rush of panic, you slipped the cuff back on your wrist and slammed the palm of your free hand on your thumb. You were rewarded by a nauseating cracking sound and a jolt of pain that almost made you throw up. Howling out tearfully, you poured the remaining oil over your disfigured hand and found it to be much more foldable than before. When the metal scuffed over your presumably snapped bone, you hissed out but didn’t hesitate. Yes, yes, yes, it was moving, slipping over your bone, just a little bit further and –

With a wet sound, the shackle slipped off and clanked against the heating body. Gasping full of relief, you leaped up to your feet and darted off, wasting no time, not even to put on shoes or grab a jacket. Every wasted second could be the nail to your coffin. Half running, half jumping, you slid down the stairs leading to the main hallway where the front door was safely locked by an abundance of locks, installed by Henry personally. You wouldn’t get out there, no matter how much time you had at hand. Not thinking twice, you sprinted for the dining room and grabbed one of the chairs. With as much force as you had in you, you hurled it at the nearest window and shattered the glass into pieces.

Sloppily, you brushed some of the shards away with the back of your already injured hand, barely noticing how you cut yourself in the process. None of it mattered, and when you swung your bare leg over the window frame and drew fresh blood through a number of shards that still poked out of the wood, you could hardly care less. You slipped over the edge and finally (finally) your feet hit the cold, muddy ground. You wanted to rejoice and throw your hands in the air, felt like sobbing and laughing at once, but you were miles away from being out of danger yet.

The dark woods ahead looked very promising (you just wanted to get away from here as fast as possible, and straight ahead seemed like the most obvious option to your panic-fueled brain), but who was supposed to come to your aid out there? You needed to see other humans, friendly humans, normal humans – the kind that you had almost forgotten existed in the past years. Your heart thundered in your chest when you sprinted around the house, fearing to encounter Henry in the driveway, dreading to see his eyes widen and turn livid upon the sight of his fleeing possession.

But he was nowhere to be seen, so you thanked the Gods and the heavens above profoundly and left the property behind, not turning back for a second. The run-down playground on the other side of the road was an image of nightmares, so you quickly turned away and sprinted down the deserted road. Most neighboring houses seemed uninhabited. No one wanted to live close to a haunted house, not when other options were available. You couldn’t blame them, although you wished there was anyone there. Perhaps then, someone would have heard you scream throughout the past years. The asphalt was hard beneath your socked feet, ruining the thin fabric as you ran down the poorly lit road, hoping to reach some more crowded area soon. Even though you had lived in Hawkins as a kid, your sense of orientation was not exactly excellent as of now. When you moved your hand up to push your hair out of your face, you noticed there was blood seeping from the gashes, trickling down your fingers, so you sloppily wiped it off on the baby-blue skirt of your ill-fitted dress.

You reached a crossroad and turned down a thankfully well-lit road with well-lit homes and your eyes grew wide when you noticed that many porches were lovingly decorated for Halloween. A band of big, round pumpkins greeted you, glowing bright and orange thanks to the candles placed inside them, showcasing spooky smiles that were meant to frighten, but all they did was make you tear up full of gratitude. How long had it been since…?

A hot tear gathered in the corner of your eye as you sprinted on, growing more aware of just how cold the autumn winds were on your bare arms and calves and how much you had missed them, just like the rustling of colorful leaves all around you, sounding so much more wonderful now than when you stuck your head out of the window under Henry’s watchful eyes.

Suddenly, your attention was drawn to a motion in the distance on the other side of the road. A bunch of… kids, walking nonchalantly and without a hurry, even though night was falling already. As you jogged closer, you noticed they were weirdly dressed and when they spotted you, they actually giggled instead of being shellshocked as one should be upon the sight of a distraught woman with bloody imprints on her dress.

That’s when it dawned on you. Halloween was today. And Henry must have known. That’s why he finally agreed to get the movie for you, because he wanted to do you a favor. And that’s how you thanked him – by running away (How stupid were you? He had been holding you in captivity for God knows how long and you felt guilty now?). However, there was no going back now, so you left the group of kids behind; they were too young to help you anyway.

Finally, you reached the next crossroad and that’s where you stopped dead in your tracks. There were… people. So many people and conversation and laughter and fun and normalcy. You hadn’t had fun for so many years that you didn’t dare count them, nor had you seen normal people with genuine smiles on their faces. You could have burst into tears right then and there, marveled at the scenery - well-lit warm-looking homes, creative Halloween décor, illuminated carved pumpkins on every porch, colorful leaves rustling in the late evening wind, the smell of candy and pumpkin pie breezing by from the open window of a nearby home - but you were in no position to enjoy what would be the perfect holiday for a normal person.

You still had to find help, although the sheer number of people around you reassured you a little. Henry would hardly stomp in here and tear you apart with his powers in front of everyone. Feeling slightly more confident and calmer than before, you jogged up to a group of what might be teenagers (it was hard to tell thanks to their costumes) who looked at you curiously.

“H-hello you guys, this is going to sound like a stupid joke, but I swear it is not! I need your help, I… I just escaped from my abductor a-a-and I really need help. Could you perhaps point me the way to the nearest police station?” With wide flittering eyes you regarded the baffled group, trying to decipher their emotions from behind masks that only showed their eyes. Finally, a boy wearing a blue overall and a white-colored mask with brown fuzzy hair attached spoke up.

“Wow! Stellar costume, dude. I love the fake blood.” He pointed at your ruined, ill-fitting dress and thereby shredded your confidence into pieces. There was something worse than anxiety churning your stomach. You felt so sick, you had no control over the tremor in your voice and hands.

“Wh-what?” You stammered full of shock, eyes flicking helplessly over the teenagers’ faces.

“Hey, I think I’ve seen that movie.” A boy with a hockey mask, wielding a plastic machete, suddenly exclaimed excitedly.

“Which movie?” A girl in a witch costume chimed in eagerly.

“Oh, some old flicker from the 50s. Pretty cool actually” Hockey-mask-boy explained and let his eyes wander over you in an appreciative manner.

“Aaah, I see! I have to put that on my watch list.”

“N-no, you don’t understand” you weakly intervened. “This is not a costume, I swear, I… I need your help!”

“And the acting is on point too! Just like in the movie” The teenager behind the hockey mask rejoiced and slapped your shoulder appreciatively, complimenting you profoundly. “Have a fab night, pal, we need to get going. Gotta get to Tina’s party, wooooo!”

The group trundled off, leaving you behind like a doused poodle. You realized they were actually pulling a handcart full of beer behind them, so perhaps they hadn’t been quite the right sort of people to ask for help anyways. You needed to find someone who was neither underage nor drunk. A responsible adult. Your gaze strayed to one of the nearby porches where a group of younger kids had just collected some candy in their little pumpkin-containers. Biting back the tears, the pain and the cold, you hurried over there as soon as they were gone and knocked on the front door.

The house seemed big and tidy - front yard decorated nicely, lawn mown commendably short. A reasonable, well-heeled family lived here. They would help you for sure.

A moment later, the door was opened by a man in his fifties, looking like a typical family father with his brown hair (gelled and styled but a bit tousled as if he had napped earlier), thick dark green shirt on top of a grey turtle neck and glasses with huge frames. He looked incredibly mediocre, which you thought was absolutely perfect. A textbook reasonable adult.

“Hello, Sir, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I seriously need your -”

“Aren’t you a bit old for trick or treating, kid?” The man suddenly interrupted you and quirked an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. You tried to swallow down the surprise (panic) and struggled for words.

“No! I mean, that’s not what I’m here for. I swear, I really need your help. Would you please let me use your telephone to call the police? O-o-or could you call them for me?”

“And from which movie are you supposed to be? Whatever, it’s not like I’d know anyway. Here, have some candy as well. We’re all children at heart, aren’t we?” He grabbed a bunch of candies from the nearby bowl and placed them in your puzzled hand (the unharmed one), smiling generously in a drowsy manner.

“What? No, please! -” The man shut the door in your face and left you standing on the porch, freezing, trembling, bleeding. Baffled, you stumbled away from the house, clutching the useless candies as you let the tears stream freely. Why was no one willing to help you? How could they seriously think you were acting? Couldn’t they see that your panic and distress were real?!

You staggered past a group of kids dressed up in light brown suits with complicated looking cases on their backs. The only one who wasn’t dressed the same was a girl with red hair. All of them cast weary glances your way when you came closer. Mindlessly, you approached the one that seemed the youngest, a sad and small looking boy with a dark blonde bowl cut.

“Do you want those?” You held the candies out to him. “I have no use for them.” ‘All I want is for someone to call the police for me’, you added in your mind and you saw the boy’s mouth hang open as he struggled to find words, but he accepted the candies regardless. “Th-thank you?” His gaze, however, was glued on your injured, oily hand which you held close to your bloodied chest in a protective manner, keeping your disfigured thumb tucked away. Sniveling, you turned away and left the kids behind. A bunch of children wouldn’t be able to help you. They would hardly even understand the terror you were in.

Disorientated, you stepped on the seemingly empty road with the aim to cross it, but suddenly a gust of wind furiously tugged on your dress as a blue car (Chevrolet Camaro) raced past you, honking wildly as it missed you by only a few inches. It would have run you over if you hadn’t jumped out of the way in the very last moment.

“Billy, you asshole!” Suddenly, the red-haired girl jumped on the road beside you, furiously yelling and gesturing at the car while you coughed on the stinking exhaust gases.

Sobbing, you turned away again and sprinted down the road in the opposite direction the car had taken, failing to realize that the girl had actually wanted to reach out for you with the intention to help you.

All of this was so horrible. What on earth was going on? Had the whole town gone crazy just because today was Halloween? Was everyone either too drunk or too stupid to take you seriously?! The adrenaline mixed with raw panic and despair made you dizzy as you ran further, stumbling past groups of laughing, chatting people who paid you no mind. You should knock on another door… Shouldn’t give up. Or perhaps someone would be kind enough to lend you some of their change, so you could call the police yourself from the nearest phone booth.

Panting, you came to a halt and bent over, putting your hands on your knees for support as you struggled to catch your breath which was burning and biting in your lungs. Your feet were raw from running down the asphalt, socks ruined, cuts stinging, thumb throbbing. But not only your physical wounds were aching but also your heart. All you wanted was to go home, however, you had no idea where that home was. You didn’t have a home, not anymore. The thing that came closest to home, although in form of a grotesque parody, was –

All of a sudden, you found that your lips were glued together and you were forced to draw your labored breath through your noise. A panicky whimper wanted to come out, but it was sealed away by this invisible force that kept your jaws in iron hold. Your heartrate shot up (BOOM BOOM BOOM) as you attempted to push your fingers between your lips to pry them apart, failing. And when your flight instinct finally kicked in, after taking stupidly long to realize just who was responsible for the jaw-lock which rendered you unable to scream, it was too late.

His force tugged on you, making you stumble into an alleyway that was branching off, sent you staggering in a way that made you look like you were nothing more than a costumed drunk, perhaps seeking a secluded place to throw up in peace. ‘No, no, no!’ You screamed internally. ‘ SOMEONE HELP! ANYONE! PLEASE HELP! HE’S GOING TO KILL ME.’ But no one heard your silent pleas as you stumbled into your demise. Why would they, after they had ignored and disregarded your clearly articulated ones? Everyone had forsaken you.

There was a too familiar figure waiting for you in the back of the alleyway which led into the open woods. A tall, almost gangly, man with wide shoulders, slim hips and sharp bone structure, dressed in belted pants, button-up and winter coat. He held one pale hand out, fingers long and bent like spider legs as he reeled you in with the supernatural power that he called his own.

“One, two… I’m coming for you, honey” Henry Creel sighed with sing-song-voice as you stumbled closer, fighting tooth and nail to break away, but it was like there was an iron chain shackled around your heart, pulling you towards the man who was a demon in the flesh. If only Hawkins knew what sort of monster lived among them. You were close enough now to see the trace of blood on his curled, triumphant lips.

When he was sure that there was no one peeking from the main road, he hurled your helpless, speechless body up into the air, immobilizing you as he made you levitate out into the deep, dark woods. He was cruel enough to force your eyes closed and twirl you around your own axis, bereaving you of everything you had – mobility, voice, eyesight and orientation. All you knew was that he walked with you, heard his crunchy footsteps on the forest floor, and somehow, knowing he was there was the most horrific thing of them all.

Finally, his mental grip on you faltered, and he hurled you to the ground. Ungently, you landed in a pile of leaves on the forest floor, face first, catching another bruise or two while dirtying your already ruined dress even more. For a moment, as you laid pained and motionless, there was nothing to be heard except for the hooting of an owl. That was until you realized that your jaws were no longer locked.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!!!” You screamed into the woods, stirring no one but sleepy animals. Ignoring your aching joints, you tried to jump to your feet but in a heartbeat, there was a boney, long-fingered hand on the nape of your neck (as cold as a fleshless skeleton), keeping you down and your face in the dirt. “Help!!!” You yelled muffled into the pile of leaves and desperately fought against Henry’s grasp on you, which was entirely physical this time.

“Sssshhh, out here, no one can hear you scream” he cooed. “They don’t deserve to hear you. Your screams are only for me.”

You whimpered quietly, falling silent when you felt the threatening pressure on each side of your neck, squeezing your trachea. Satisfied with your submission, Henry flipped you around, still lying on the ground but now facing him. There was a cold, devilish grin on his angular face, looking grotesque in the moonlight which was barely enough to illuminate his features that could look so pretty under the right circumstances – when he was calm and appeased, which he was currently not.

“Were you going on a little Halloween walk, hm? On a little unauthorized adventure?” He hissed and applied pressure to your thorax, giving you a threatening push that forced the air out of your lungs.

“I was… I wasn’t… I didn’t…” you stammered breathlessly, tears already streaming down your temples. Henry’s livid gaze fell on your injured hand and he swiftly snatched it and inspected it in the sparse light. If there was any worry in his eyes, he hid it well because all you saw was anger and offense.

“You stupid thing” he snarled scoldingly and dropped your hand onto your chest. “I’m going to teach you a lesson… Get up. We’re going home.”

“N-no!!!” You scrambled to your feet. “I’m not going back to that hell-house with you! Get away from me! You can’t just… force me to-”

“You know what?! I think you need your lesson right now” the man declared with trembling, gravelly voice, lips drawn back for a snarl that revealed his teeth.

Henry roughly grabbed you by the meat of your thighs and hoisted you up, making you yelp in surprise as you almost toppled over, but he caught you easily and slammed you against the nearest tree trunk in a way that was meant to bruise your spine. While you were busy trying to get the air bank into your lungs that had left you with a gasp upon the impact, Henry ground himself between your legs while keeping you pressed against the rough bark with his powers. He rid your skirt up with one hand and roughly palmed the flesh of your ass while making you feel his clothed groin on your almost-bare center. Wincing and squeaking, you struggled against his hold on you, gasped when he squeezed your flesh harder and you realized that he was already growing excited in his pants.

With a toothy, mocking grin he pushed his torso up against you as well, perfectly confining you between the tree and himself. This horrific closeness was enough to start making you thrash and hiss like an animal. With flailing hands, you aimed for his eye, wanted to stab your nail in there and rip the whole white and blue ball out, wanted to tear so hard that his whole brain came out by the visual nerve, sputtering his toxic blood and grey matter all over the forest floor.

‘Don’t hurt him, he’s your savior after all!’ Your inner voice screamed at you, causing you to veer off course.

Your fingers met his cheek instead, leaving a small gash on the surface there, hardly representative of the boiling anger you felt, but very representative of how much of a weak-hearted soul you were. Henry made a sound that seemed almost amused, which was truly the last thing you wanted to hear while you were fighting for your life and freedom.

“Let me down!” You demanded furiously; voice hardly audible thanks to the pouring tears. “Let me down, let me down, let me down, I don’t want this!” You thrashed your legs but without actually kicking him.

“No, no, no, don’t act like that.” Grinning, he ground his crotch between your open thighs, slowly, teasingly, oh-so-lightly. Gently. “You want this.”

“I don’t! I never wanted any of this! You… What you’re doing to me is… That is r…”

“Excuse me, darling?” He cocked his head innocently. “Speak your mind. What are you trying to accuse me of?”

“N-nothing…” you back-pedaled fearfully while enduring the teasing motion of his hips that started doing something to your body.

“No need to be shy now. You’re already in big trouble, angel” Henry whispered threateningly, lips looking full and plump in the sparse moonlight.

“I fucking hate you! I hate you so much, I wish you were dead. I wish you never set me free. Everything is better than being with you” you howled out, weakly trying to push him away with your hands on his chest (where his heart was thrumming fast).

“Then fight me properly, or I won’t believe a word you say” he growled. “No powers, just you and me.”

You froze, imagining all the things you could do to him, all the ways you could make him bleed, get revenge for the years of captivity in a one on one without him using his powers (if he even decided to play fair), but for some reason your hands remained still and your eyes wide.

“Come on, fight me, angel!” He insisted again. “Do something! Hit me in the face! Break my nose! Gauge my eye out! Kick me in the stomach! I know you’re thinking about it, but do it then!” Suddenly, his hand was around your throat, squeezing so harshly that it was more than just a warning. Gasping for air through your squashed windpipe, your clawed at Henry’s wrist, dug your nails into his skin there and scratched him bloody, but there could be so much more, so many beautiful ways to hurt him and he would deserve all of them.

‘He saved you, don’t hurt him! You owe him, you owe your life to him. Don’t fight back. Without him you would still be locked away within white, sterile walls and tormented to death by the cruel hands of humans in the name of science in search for things you are unable to give. You owe him.’

“Are you even trying, sweetheart? Don’t break your pretty fingernails off” Henry mocked you, utterly unfazed by the bloody scratches on his hand and wrist.

“Just let me down!” You begged tearfully, pleadingly looking in his cold, big eyes.

“If you can’t fight me properly, then stop pretending you hate me, you stupid thing! Don’t you know you need me? I know how much you need me and I am willing to take care of you…”

“Willing to take care of me…” You huffed full of bitterness. “You say that as if you were doing me a favor, as if I had a choice.”

“You have the choice to fight me, but since you can’t seem to bring yourself to do that…” He smirked triumphantly. “Stop resisting and take what I give you. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir” you sniveled defeated and accepted your bitter fate, self-confidence shattered into pieces as you grew still and meek.

“Good girl” he mumbled into the crook of your neck and you immediately noticed the quickening of his excited breath, which was warm on your skin – One positive thing at least. “See? That wasn’t so hard. But you need your punishment regardless.”

Henry grazed his teeth along your neck which you willingly exposed for him further, and you could practically smell how satisfied he was with your submission. Then, his soft lips were on your neck, kissing a certain spot in an almost loving manner until he added his teeth, sucking and biting so aggressively that you winced from the stinging pain, knowing that a big, dark bruise was in the making. Meanwhile, he undid his pants with one hand (while you were still being held up by his powers) and the jingling of the belt was the only sound to disturb the nightly silence. Shortly after, he freed his cock, and you didn’t need to look to know he was rock-hard. There was nothing that got him off like subduing your weak little heart and body to his will.

He reached under your skirt and swiftly grasped your underwear, moving the fabric to the side to reveal your center to the cold night’s air, thereby faintly grazing his knuckles against your clit in a way that made an unwanted little gasp escape your mouth. Smirking, he wasted no time on teasing you any further, touching you, or preparing you. But it turned out he didn’t need to. When he pressed the thick head of his cock against your cunt, both of you realized (you horrified, him complacent) that you were wet enough to take him.

Why were you wet enough for him to do that?! You cried out internally and added another shovel full of shame to the pile that was already burying and crushing your soul.

If Henry didn’t look so handsome, your body wouldn’t react like that. If he was some unattractive, insanitary, repulsive creep, you would loath and battle him with every atom of your body, you would fight tooth and nail against him. But his face was pretty like an angel’s and his voice was sweet like honey, lips soft like pillows, his hands your only source of physical affection.

“Be not afraid” he cooed into your ear and his voice had the color of dark red velvet. “I’m only giving you what you deserve.”

Without further warning, he slammed himself inside you, forcing your aching walls apart in one go that drove tears into your eyes. Despite the slick and the obvious arousal in your core (which you would never forgive yourself for), the first sting was terrible, so you yelped out. The scream came out way louder than you intended, and no longer than a heartbeat later, Henry’s cold hand was on your mouth, muffling every desperate sound as he began rutting and gave you no time to adjust, but your juices were flowing and gathering regardless, making it easier for him by the second.

“Your screams are only for me, remember? If you need to whine, do it quietly” Henry cooed menacingly, looking you deep in the eyes as he lowered his head predatorily, meticulously studying even the smallest twitch on your face. All you could do was stare at him (eyes watery and pleading) as he fucked you against the tree; bark tearing on your dress and skin with every impact.

While his powers kept you in the air and your legs spread wide for him, his free hand found its way on your throat - one of Henry’s favorite places because he loved seeing your eyes grow wide and feeling your heartbeat pick up as your tight little pussy automatically clenched around him, thanks to the lack of oxygen which obviously made your head swim. He hammered inside you, grunting, relishing how your irresistibly tight walls fit him like a glove; it almost felt like you were sucking him in – Or that’s what he liked to convince himself of.

“Good girl, good girl” he panted, growing breathless from both using his powers continuously and fucking you apart. “See? You are made for this. You claim to hate me and yet you’re taking all of me and you are dripping, sweetheart, what do you think that means, hm?”

Since you could neither speak nor move your head thanks to his large hands on your mouth and neck, all you could do was helplessly mewl into his palm, noticing how your own saliva was coating his skin there.

“You can take it a bit harder, can’t you?” Henry purred and you hummed a muffled “Mm-hmm” into his hand, putting on your most pleading eyes, hoping he would be merciful. Smirking, Henry increased the pace while tilting his hips slightly further up, slamming his cock into you with such ferocity that you yelped and winced with every thrust, hissing through gritted teeth whenever he pounded against your cervix. Suddenly, three long fingers slipped into your mouth, sliding too far down your throat. Immediately, you started coughing and gagging and desperately attempted to jerk your head away but Henry denied you, smiling fiendishly as he squeezed your throat tighter while simultaneously invading it with his digits, causing you to salivate around them.

You were fighting for the oxygen in your lungs, struggling for every milliliter of air as your vision was growing blurry and the image of Henry and his evil, blue eyes became hazy. You tugged on his coat with weak hands, wordlessly begging for mercy as your head rolled back.

In that very moment, Henry’s hand and fingers finally disappeared which left you greedily gasping for air and saved you from passing out. Meanwhile, he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and bit you viciously, grunting as he halted his movement and denied himself his release (but you felt his cock twitch angrily inside you, knowing just how close he had been and how much willpower it must have taken him to stop) because him climaxing would also mean that your punishment would be shortened.

As soon as he slipped out of you, leaving you empty and aching because the knot in your abdomen was still tied up, you immediately missed his presence inside you. You would never admit that, but the devious sparkle in his eyes told you he knew. When he released your shaky legs to the ground, his face was heated and his teeth were bared, giving him the likeness of a demonic hound.

The thrill of the hunt had gotten him agitated and you knew he craved nothing more than to devour you.

“I’m not done with you yet” Henry declared gauntly. “We’re going home now.”

“B-but what about my hand?!” You protested weakly, because you were pretty sure you needed to go to the hospital with your disfigured thumb.

“You did that to yourself, sweetheart.” Was all that Henry had to say about the issue, brushing it off as if it was nothing “Are you going to take my hand and walk with me like a good girl, or do I have to fling you over my shoulder?!”

You shook your head, growing hopeless and teary-eyed once more. “I’ll walk.”

“Then give me your hand.” You reached your left one out but he denied you, tut-tutting. “The other one, silly” he demanded. Grimly, you complied and held your hurt hand out for him, hissing when he seized it and brushed along your thumb in his wake. You saw him grinning in the darkness as he pulled you along and caressed the presumably broken or perhaps just dislocated digit in a way that was not exactly pleasant despite the gentleness of his touch. The way he soft traced patterns on your lacerated skin almost felt parodic thanks to the constant lingering pain.

Apparently, Henry’s sense of orientation worked just fine, other than yours – Without him, you would have been hopelessly lost in the woods. He seemed to know exactly where he was leading you despite the alikeness of the black trees in the dark night, determinedly marching on with your hand safely locked in his. It was so terribly cold out here, all of your smaller and bigger wounds were stinging and throbbing and sticks and stones were poking through your torn socks, jabbing your icy cold feet. From the corner of your eye, you watched the man who led you back to your Victorian jail, yearningly stared at the coat he was wearing. You knew he would never lend it to you, not unless you begged on your hands and knees.

Shivering, you thought of all the cheerful people you had seen today. Normal, happy people having fun, enjoying the holiday, collecting candy and spending time with their friends. They had no idea how lucky they were – To even have friends, to leave their houses, to wear the clothing that they wanted. To be free. You had been so God-damned close to escaping, you wanted to sob and cry and throw a tantrum, but all those emotions were consumed by pain and cold, so you walked quietly, only suffering on the inside.

You dearly wished you would have been able to cast one last glance at the beautiful Halloween décor all over Hawkins, to marvel at the pretty lights and hear the sound of laughter once more, but Henry chose the path through the woods (of course, because he didn’t want to reward you by allowing you to cast a look) until you emerged behind Creel Manor.

When he pushed you past the heavy, wooden entrance door of this house of horrors and meticulously re-locked the numerous locks that kept you imprisoned, you saw the remaining tension (fear of losing you) melt away from him. In the dark, you hadn’t really noticed it was there before. Fearfulness was not a sentiment you were used to seeing on the face of your captor, but it was gone now. Now, that he had you safely back at the place where you belonged, back inside the thick, crushing walls of Creel Manor where absolutely no one would hear you scream. At least, it was warmer here, you tried to comfort yourself and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a miserable ball on the couch and lick your wounds but you didn’t dare to move but one foot.

Finally, Henry was done with the last lock and turned to you, smiling widely with his evil mouth. You shivered when his fingertips ghosted over your cold arms and he ushered you to the nearest wall, caging you in immediately. Of course, allowing you to patch yourself up and clean yourself would have been too merciful. Mercy was rare to be found with Henry Creel, and so was patience.

“You almost slipped out of my hands there, you naughty, naughty, bad girl. I will make sure that never happens again.”

“Please, I-, I-” You couldn’t get ‘I’m sorry’ past your lips, because it would be the biggest lie you had ever told.

“You wanted to take my everything away from me…” he mumbled, staring you down with dark, dreamy eyes having the color of the night sky.

“Y-your everything?!” You blurted out, staring back at his face with furrowed brows.

“Of course, angel, what did you think you are to me?”

“I… don’t know” you admitted and couldn’t help but gasp when his lips landed on yours, kissing you fervently while his hands came to a rest on either side of your face, cradling you into the kiss. Giving in was not an option, but you did so anyway, melting within seconds because the passion with which he kissed you burned so bright that it temporarily thawed your stiff limps and even your cold heart. Shyly, you wrapped your arms around his neck which made him grunt in response, and the urgency of his touch multiplied tenfold.

All of a sudden, he left your lips alone and regarded you with a piercing gaze, lips parted, eyes clouded – a mirror image of yourself. Then, he kissed along your cheek bone and your ear, traveling down to your neck where he had sucked a dark bruise earlier, inspecting it.

“You have such a beautiful neck” Henry mumbled into the crook of it.

Before you could think of a reply, his greedy lips and teeth where on your skin, sucking and biting until your entire neck was littered with love bites and bruises of various sizes. Each return of his relentless mouth made you wince and whine thanks to how sensitive the thin skin had turned there. Meanwhile, he was roughly palming your breasts over the dress, pinching your nipples which were hardened from the cold (you tried to convince yourself that it came from the cold only, knowing it was a foul lie).

Henry’s other hand busied itself between your legs, swiftly slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear, only to find you still damp and sensitive from his previous ministrations. With a satisfied grunt, he slipped his fingers between your folds and gathered some of your wetness before attacking your clit, rubbing precise circles in a way that he knew would keep you docile and wanton, would make your shaky legs fall open for him because you just couldn’t get enough of his touch no matter how much you claimed to despise him.

The man only stopped sucking on your neck when the plethora of bruises were dark purple and pulsating beneath your skin.

“Beautiful” he commented on his handiwork “I should cover every inch of you, but for now… This should remind you that you belong to me.” With that, he showcased a sinister (proud) smirk and slid three fingers into your throbbing, yearning center which he found easily accessible, thanks to how well he had stretched and prepared you previously with his cock. The gasp that wanted to escape your mouth was suffocated when he wrapped his large, pale hand around your blemished throat, squeezing tightly around the throbbing marks. Oh, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt so well!

Panting, you wrapped your hands around the wrist of his choking hand while rutting your hips into his touch which made your walls clench around him without him even having to try very hard. Meanwhile, your teary eyes sought his deep-blue triumphant ones in hopes of conveying a look of remorse and plea for mercy, but the only thing you did was look pathetic and desperate.

“Yeah, there she is” Henry cooed mockingly. “There’s my filthy, obedient girl. I knew you were enjoying this.” With that, he picked up the pace and plunged his digits deep into your core, curling them to tease your most sensitive spots which he knew by heart. Instantly, your knees buckled and you dared to topple down, but the hand on your bruised throat harshly prevented you from falling. If anything, the harshness of his touch only made you drip more, made you moan louder as you rocked your hips against his relentless fingers as the hotness in your core burned brighter and brighter.

“H-h-henry, please, I…” You gasped, barely audible.

“Yes?” He purred, smirking, and ground the heel of his hand against your clit which caused a filthy sound from the bottom of your lungs to escape your strangled throat. There was something sitting in your lower stomach, winding and coiling like a hungry snake would slither towards a big, fat mouse, yearning to feast on it. You were that snake, and you were hungry.

“Please, I need to…”

“Need to what?” He cooed, firmly locking eyes with you and you were sure that you were drowning in them at this very moment. The snake could practically smell the mouse already; you saw its little whiskers tremor.

“Need to… cum… Please. I need it.”

“And do you think you deserve that?” Henry smirked and picked up the mouse and carried it out of your reach, denying you to still your burning hunger. His fingers moved slower now, keeping you on the edge but too far away from it.

“No! I don’t” you wailed out and a number of pitiful tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Now, now, don’t be so harsh on yourself” he scolded you, brows furrowed. “I want you to cum, because who would I be if I didn’t make my wife happy, hm? That’s why you ran away isn’t it? I need to take better care of you, fuck you better…”

‘I’m not your wife, I will never be, I would rather die!’ You wanted so scream, but arguing with him now might as well be your very real death sentence, so you just nodded obediently and kept clinging to his wrist while grinding against his other hand.

“Yeah, good girl” he praised you proudly and it made your heart flutter in a way that was definitely not allowed. Thanks to being too caught up in shame and self-loath, you didn’t resist when he eventually withdrew his hands and grabbed you by the arm instead, pulling you with him. “Let’s get you upstairs. I’m going to take very good care of you.”

Stumbling, you closely followed Henry who dragged you up the broad wooden stairs and into the master bedroom (dark wood, huge bed, heavy curtains) where he immobilized you with a flick of his wrist and ungently stripped the dirty, blood-stained dress off you. With rough hands, he palmed your tits over the lacy bra, making you gasp as your body shuddered. He ripped the delicate garment off after just a moment, shortly followed by your damp panties and shredded socks. You stood bare in the middle of the room, still frozen, shiver crawling down your body thanks to how chilly the air was on your tender skin.

To your surprise, Henry continued with his own clothing and flung his coat to the corner before undoing button after button of his dress-shirt with calm, pale fingers, making you watch until it fell off his shoulders and he was bare-chested. The cold never seemed to affect him as much as it did you. There was not a trace of goosebumps on his fair skin (stretching over lithe muscles and sharp bones, adorned by a small number of birthmarks). He had the beauty of a Cherubim, so who could blame you for staring, open-eyed with warm cheeks.

“You mustn’t ever run away from me” Henry declared and you stupidly nodded your head, watching entranced as he continued with his belt, undoing it swiftly before discarding pants, shoes and underwear. Gulping, you stared at his cock which stood thick and tall, tip reddened and swollen from how desperately his own arousal was yearning for release.

Henry climbed on the bed, resting in a half-upright position on his back, propped against the pillows. Obediently, you followed shortly after and intended to go down on him, taking your place between his slightly parted legs, marveling at his seeping cock because you suspected that this was where he wanted you – on your hands and knees, serving him.

“No, no, no, come back here, don’t do that.” You met his eyes full of confusion. “I want you to feel good. Come here, sit on my lap.” Puzzled and shy, you moved on top of him, straddling him while his hard cock rested on his flat stomach. “Silly girl, not like that. I want you to ride me. Ride my cock. Make yourself feel good with it; use me.”

“Use you?” That didn’t sound right. He hardly ever allowed you to be on top. Throughout all those years, you could count the times on one hand.

“Yes. Come here.” He helped you along while you shyly placed your hands on his smooth chest and raised your hips. Touching him of your own accord always felt unnatural, like you were deliberately placing your hands on a burning hotplate or taking a bite of the forbidden fruit.

Meanwhile, Henry wrapped one hand around his cock and guided himself to your waiting entrance, teasingly rubbing along your slit a few times to coat himself with your essence. You hesitated, needing him inside you while simultaneously finding yourself unable to take action. Sensing your inner conflict, Henry placed one hand on your hip, holding you firmly as he applied gentle pressure which caused you to sink lower, inch by inch, taking his cock bit by bit, being stretched apart so wonderfully that your head rolled back and mouth fell open for a wanton gasp.

When he was buried to the hilt and filled you up completely, he gently started rocking his hips upwards with what little range of motion he had, squished between your thighs. “Come on, darling. Ride me.”

Finally, you hesitantly started moving and raised your hips a few inches, feeling how he partially slid out, only to spread you apart again as you sunk down low. A tiny mewl escaped your lips because he felt so good, the pleasure in your core was blooming quickly and beautifully, thanks to how worked up you were from his previous ministrations. Encouraged, you raised your hips once anew and set a moderate pace, being wonderfully stretched and stimulated by his thick cock upon every return.

“Yes, yes, just like that, good girl” Henry praised you with parted lips and bobbing Adam’s apple as he watched you bounce, eyes glued on your tits. Just when you started feeling self-conscious, his large, pale hand traveled up your chest where he groped the tender flesh and squeezed one nipple between thumb and index finger, watching your eyes roll back as you yelped with pleasure. Meanwhile, his other hand ghosted up and down your bare thigh, lightly squeezing and massaging in a way that was undeniably gentle, and so uncharacteristic for him.

Self-acting, your body decided it wanted more, so you picked up the pace and rode his dick harder, slamming yourself down with every thrust, splitting yourself open because you wanted and needed him as deep inside as physically possible, but it still wasn’t enough. Your healthy hand hesitantly wandered between your thighs and found your clit, rubbing softly which immediately caused a ripple of pleasure to run through your clenching core, making not only yourself gasp but Henry too.

You expected him to tear your hand away, to slap you hard as punishment for acting on your own, but all he did was growl hungrily as he watched you pleasure yourself while his cock got swallowed by your wet cunt over and over again. The sight alone was lewd enough to make him unravel on the spot but he held himself together, straining his muscles beneath you to keep the pleasure from overwhelming him. He wanted to savor every second of this.

The pain in your hand was long forgotten and pushed aside as your insides were burning bright like a wildfire, tumbling towards the white-hot beacon that was your own climax, waiting to blaze up.

“Please I have to… I need to…”

“Go ahead, angel” Henry encouraged you, smiling, half-lidded. A trap! Too easy, too easy… You wouldn’t fall for it. The tense feeling in your core abated slightly when you realized that this was nothing but a setup to edge you and make you beg, only to tear the feeling away from you again and again. “What’s wrong, hm?” Henry cocked his head when you removed your hand from your clit.

“It’s fine… I-I’m good.” The knot in your abdomen that had started becoming undone had tied itself back together; it was better this way.

“No, no, no, keep going! What do you think you’re doing?” Henry scolded you with furrowed brows and clutched your hand, sternly moving it back between your legs where he pressed your fingertips to your swollen clit.

“You’re only going to take it away from me” you mumbled feebly and stopped moving entirely, coming to a halt on his lap, cock deep inside you.

“Did you listen to me earlier? I’m going to take care of you, my love, so keep going. Or do you want me to take over?”

You shook your head and raised your hips, trying to find the previous rhythm again. If he let you be on top for once, the least you wanted to do was savor it. As your fingers worked on your clit and Henry’s cock was nudging sweet spots hidden inside you, the flame of arousal and impending release started flickering once anew. Meanwhile, Henry’s hands ghosted over your thighs and hips, helping you a long when he noticed your legs were starting to tremble. With interlocked eyes, this moment felt awfully intimate and your heart didn’t know what to make of it. Your core, however, seemed very much thrilled and you felt yourself clench around him which turned his eyes glossy.

“Does it feel nice?” Henry asked sweetly, staring you up and down with wide and dreamy pupils.

“Y-yes…” you admitted, breathing hard as you depleted your energy reservoirs to slam yourself on his throbbing cock.

“Would you like to cum?”

“Y-yes! Yes, please… Henry…” You begged as your fingers worked fierce circles into your clit, teasing your nerve ends until your core was a ball of fire.

“Ssshh, it’s alright, keep going” he encouraged you with soothing voice. “Are you going to try to run away from me again?”

“No! No, I won’t, I p-promise!” You were panting now, desperately chasing the high that you needed, casting everything in the wind meanwhile. You didn’t even care about the words coming out of your mouth anymore. All you wanted was that rush of dopamine, a small ounce of joy coaxed out of your brain in times where nothing else was ever fun.

“Good, good girl. Touch yourself harder, come on” Henry demanded, wearing a triumphant smile as he raked his eyes over your sweat-glistening body, bouncing tits, bruised neck, flustered face with half-lidded eyes.

“Do you love me?” The delirious glint in his dreamy eyes made it obvious that there was only one right answer.

“Yes, I do! I-, I-, oh God, please let me…. Please don’t r-ruin it, I- I’m so close.”

“I won’t, silly. Go on, you can do it. Cum for me, cum around my cock, make yourself feel good.”

You were shocked when you finally sensed that he really wanted you to cum, which did not exactly seem like a punishment. You would have expected him to spank you perhaps, or to deny you, to drive you so close to the edge countless times that you begged for him with teary eyes, only for him to deny you again. But the more you thought about it, the more aware you grew that this was in fact an act of punishment, and an utterly humiliating one. Perhaps the cruelest thing there was – You, giving yourself to your captor willingly. When realization came upon you, you started crying and the burning, aching feeling subsided once more – Orgasm ruined by yourself.

"Aw, angel, no tears, please” Henry cooed with feigned pity. “It's a waste of good suffering. Everything is alright, hm? You’re feeling good, aren’t you?" He asked sweetly, showcasing a sadistic smile that grew even toothier when you nodded obediently. “I’m making you feel good, don’t I?” You nodded again, bouncing on his lap with as much vigor as you still had in your tired bones while your fingertips kept rubbing frenzied circles into your clit but to no avail. “Good. Then let me take it from here.”

An invisible force wrapped itself around your wrist and pulled your hand away from your center, keeping it motionless and useless in the air while your body mourned the loss of friction. However, the empty space was very soon filled with Henry’s hand, touching you even better than you had. He knew your body better than you did, and you cursed him for it.

He wasn’t allowed to feel this good. It should be strictly impossible for him to make you feel this way, to melt your dignity away with every wicked touch (his fingers on the outside, cock on the inside, permanent marks on your cold, dead heart) but he had saved you after all and you loved him, you loved him…

With one hand on your hip and the other one on your clit, Henry bounced you up and down on his lap, using his powers to drag you along because you were too exhausted to help him out; legs too shaky to keep yourself up. As soon as he took matters in his own hand, you were feeling different, like you had no control over the way your body was reacting to his teasing touch and the intrusion of his cock, like you had no chance to suppress this welling, all-consuming feeling in your core, no matter how badly you wanted to.

“Sh-shit…” Your mind was a hornets’ nest, buzzing and pulsing with nothing but the raw need for the release which was close enough for your eyes to fall shut and your mouth to hang open as you arched your back. “Henry, I’m gonna… gonna… Oh-”

“I know, honey.” He rubbed precise circles into your clit, choosing a rhythm that was perfect and you came undone immediately, like you never had a choice. Your entire body collapsed as your center clenched and clamped around Henry’s thrusting cock while he worked you through your high with relentless fingers. A million hornets buzzed around your nervous system, rapaciously stinging you from the inside until the only thing you saw were the stars behind your blissfully closed eyelids. Wave after wave after wave, until your body grew limp and your heavy head rolled forwards from exhaustion.

“I’m going to cum inside you” Henry declared, eyes sparkling deliriously as he slammed your overstimulated body down on his throbbing, aching cock by the meat of your hips. You nodded fervently as black dots of exhaustion clouded your vision. “Good fucking girl. God, yes, you feel so fucking good, y-you’re mine forever, do you understand?!” Weakly, you nodded again, frows furrowed because it was almost too much.

Suddenly, he kept you still in the air, hips half raised and his hands dug deep into your tender flesh. Instead of slamming you down, he jerked his own hips up, repeatedly pounding into your motionless center with such force that you cried out with pain and helplessly scratched over his chest, squirming in his brutal grasp.

“I asked if you fucking understand that, slut?! You belong to me, you are my wife, and if you e-ever try to run away from me again, I-I’m gonna, I’m gonna, fuck, g-gonna cum.” He dragged your maltreated body down while simultaneously thrusting up. You screamed out, feeling as if you were being split in two and clung to him for dear life as he emptied his cock inside you with stuttering hips and a demonic growl on his lips that made your frightened heart stutter.

And then finally, finally, it was over.

Both of you stared each other in the eyes, panting heavily, uncertain how to proceed. In a normal, loving relationship, you would have now lowered yourself on his chest and he would have wrapped his arms around you, perhaps caressed your back as you let your heartbeats calm down and your bodies cool off. Shyly, you slightly lowered your torso in an attempt to snuggle up to him but stopped yourself quickly, raising back up with shame as a hot tear gathered in the corner of your eye.

You averted your eyes, staring blankly out the window where faint stars blinked in unreachable distance. When Henry’s hand came up to your cheek, you winced with surprise, but he had no intention of hurting you. Instead, he cupped your face for a brief moment, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek (more, more, more, please, more) before he pulled away again, causing your empty heart to clench.

“Go clean yourself up. Don’t make me wait.”

Numbly, you climbed off his lap, immediately missing his warmth because the house was so devoid of it, and staggered towards the master bathroom, feeling his semen trickle down your inner thigh. When you climbed in the tub and held the shower head away from you, waiting for the stream to turn warm, all you could do was stare at your aching hand, thumb protruding at a weird angle. Would this ever heal? Or would it be a permanent reminder of your failure?

Finally, the water was lukewarm (it wouldn’t get any warmer than that), so you grabbed the shower head and let it stream down your body. While you slathered yourself with bodywash, you tried your hardest to scrub the disgrace off your skin, but there was no way to wash something off that was nestled deep within your soul, tarnishing you in a way that was permanent and irreversible.

This moment of almost-domestic sex made you feel gross on the inside and outside. It was worse than any physical punishment ever could have been, because it made you loathe yourself. You would have gladly been deprived of food and drink, been beaten half to death because then, at least you could have remained proud of yourself. You could have stood tall and held your head high and testify that you had always stayed strong and given your all. Now, all you felt was shame, eternally etched into your skeleton.

If there ever came another opportunity, you would stab him with the kitchen knife (liar!), you secretly vowed to yourself as you thoroughly cleaned the space between your thighs, not wanting a single atom of him left there. You could have stayed in the shower for another hour, but Henry had told you to not let him wait, so you turned off the water and dried yourself, feeling absolutely miserable.

When you returned from the bathroom, there was a clean dress spread on the freshly covered bed (the old covers having been stained by the blood from your cut legs and hand) for you to wear. Sage green, bell skirt, knee-length, Peter Pan collar. You hated it with your whole heart but slipped it on regardless, shivering with goosebumps as you longed for nothing more than a warm sweater or a cardigan. He hadn’t even provided you new underwear.

From downstairs, a soft melody wafted by, accompanied by the occasional cracks and static from the phonograph, letting you know that Henry was waiting for you. Of course, he wouldn’t let you watch the movie now, or allow you to do anything you wanted. Wearing a bitter expression (broken and crestfallen on the inside), you made your way downstairs and entered the spacey living room where flames bickered in the fireplace. Greedily, you stepped closer, yearning for the warmth of the fire even if it meant having to be close to Henry.

Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
Birds singing in the sycamore trees
Dream a little dream of me

The tall man (wearing a maroon sweater, thick and warm, making you bristle with anger) welcomed you with a malicious smile and pulled you in his arms, placing one hand on your waist and seizing your right hand with his free one. He began swaying you back and forth, making you follow along the dance steps that your feet knew quite well from how often he had forced you to dance. The soft melody (making you sleepy, or perhaps you were just bone-weary from today’s endeavors) carried the pair of you over the living room parquet in a twisted parody of whatever dream of domestic life Henry was chasing so desperately.

Say "Nightie night" and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

“I love you” he whispered into the crown of your head, squeezing your right hand (broken thumb) affectionately which made you hiss like an animal as you tried to jump back, stopped by a harsh tug on your waist and another painful squeeze around your hand that made tears shoot out of your eyes.

“Ssshhh” Henry cooed and swayed you back and forth to the rhythm, keeping your trembling hand in a threatening grasp, only waiting for you to disobey again.

“When will this nightmare end?” You sobbed into his chest, feeling your spirits drift away with the soft, haunting melody of this song of horrors.

“Oh, you think this is a nightmare?” Henry brought his lips close to your ear, whispering like the devil. “Well, I will make sure you never wake up.”

Chapter Text

***Peter's POV***

When Peter Ballard had entered the men's shower room late at night to perform his daily ritual of washing himself unobserved by pesky colleagues, the last thing he expected to find was a naked woman, standing under one of the streams in all her glory, eyes closed, reveling in the hot water on her skin.

The questions just why she was here and who she even was, because Peter had never seen her before, were rendered into hardly present thought fragments and shoved to the very back of his brain. Meanwhile, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears seemed louder than the shower stream and all he could do was clutch the towel in his hands like a vise.

He had never seen a naked woman before, because when, why and how would Peter have ever had the opportunity and reason for that? When he had been brought here, he was a 12-year-old boy, not quite grazing puberty yet. And as he grew older, he had never been interested in seeing a naked woman either. In fact, he had been blessed with a cold disinterest in humans regardless of their gender – But perhaps his sense of judgment had been clouded by the fact that 95 percent of his co-workers were male and most of them twice as old as him. The only two females being an elderly nurse and a cold-faced scientist whom he rarely saw.

Peter's eyes were glued on the unaware woman's body, staring rudely and open-mouthed as she slathered her hair with shampoo. He didn't understand what was happening or why it was happening, but he found himself absolutely entranced by the sight of her. All he could notice was how very different she was built, different from him. The proportions of her body, the shape of her chest, hips and thighs – everything seemed so soft and inviting. Peter's breathing grew quicker as he was overcome by the sudden urge run his hands over her glistening skin and squeeze all the parts that looked squishy and enticing.

His blown eyes came to a rest on the space between her thighs where she had little while he had much. Of course, he knew, but he had never seen, would have never even assumed that the mere sight of such a modest body part where hardly anything was to be seen would evoke such overwhelming feelings in him.

It was a feeling as if a thousand little spiders were running through his body, setting his nerves on fire, starting by his loins which grew hard and throbbing; A condition which he only ever found himself in late at night on rare occasions in the solitude of his bed room, when his hand traveled south out of sheer boredom, because there was something pleasurable and relaxing about the physical touch and the short-lasting rush of dopamine that followed. He had never linked that sensation – the stiffness in his pants – to another human being, neither real nor imaginary; Which made it all the more shocking and unexpected to be met by those feelings now – and more strongly than ever. Not only was Peter shocked, he was embarrassed too. Although he didn't know why, he sensed that the feeling was inappropriate, dirty even, and he kindled with shame.

In that very moment, the woman opened up her eyes and immediate horror seized her at the sight of the man in the middle of the room who was staring at her so blatantly. With a screech, she brought her hands in front of chest and groins, covering herself up insufficiently. Peter could still see more than enough to make his cock throb with excitement, and without thinking he brought the towel down to hide the tent in his pants. A strange expression flashed across the woman's face as she followed the movement of Peter's hand and towel which was now in front of his white-clad hips, clutched by long-fingered, veiny hands.

Peter's mouth opened and closed several times, searching for words that would excuse his presence and staring, but his mind seemed blank and deprived of the amount of blood necessary for thinking. A sentiment close to panic flooded through the man's agitated body when he finally spun around on his heel and fled from the shower room. He practically leaped through the door, slammed it shut and broke into a jog, spurred by anxiety as if the beautiful, naked woman would jump out after him and chase him down the hallway.

Even when he finally reached his room and shut the door behind himself, his cheeks were still glowing red and the sheen of nervous sweat was making his button-up stick to his torso. For obvious reasons, showering tonight was out of question, so all he could do was peel the work shirt off his skin. Meanwhile, Peter's thoughts were violently circling around the strange woman he had seen in all her nude glory, as if the picture of her was etched into his retinas. Was she a new orderly? A new nurse? A Fata Morgana?

Despite his better judgment, knowing he shouldn't have stared, knowing he should banish the forbidden image of her from his mind, the erection sitting in his pants was too painful to be ignored. With nimble fingers, Peter undid his belt and yanked pants and underwear down with impatience before sitting down on the bed. Tonight, he didn't act out of boredom, he acted out of raw need. The urge to get rid of this burning, lingering feeling was more overwhelming than ever before. He was aching and when he wrapped one hand around his rock-solid member, an involuntary gasp escaped his open mouth.

He felt foul and rotten and gross as he was jerking himself off to the memory of her bare body, but with every movement of his fist along his cock, he found the flame in his loins burning hotter and very soon, stopping was absolutely out of question, if not impossible. As if driven by a lesser yet irresistible instinct, he pumped himself viciously and marveled at the way his swollen cock head was almost purple from all the blood that had gathered there.

Peter imagined her... At first, it was just her body, the shape of it, looking so very appealing. In his mind, he followed the path of the pouring water, streaming down her chest and stomach, reaching her pubic mound. A strained voice inside his mind longed and begged for a closer look, wishing to spread her thighs apart without fully understanding why. Then, when he grew more desperate as he was nearing his release stroke by stroke, he imagined her on top of him, how she ran her hands over his body, shoved her chest up against his face. What would she do next? What would she...

Peter's eyes closed full of strain and his head rolled back when he came with a heavy grown. The brutal intensity of the climax made his whole body convulse as ropes of hot cum spurted over his clenched fist, thighs and stomach. Panting, the man re-opened his glossy eyes, surprised to see the scale of the mess he had made. Tonight, there had been something incredibly relieving about pleasuring himself, as if he had been starved to death and only this physical touch could still his hunger. Deep complacence filled him when he cleaned himself up over the sink and changed into his pajamas.

In a surge of clarity, swiftly followed and replaced by overwhelming sleepiness, Peter decided that he had to find the woman tomorrow and apologize to her. The worst thing that could happen was for her to report him to their superiors, which would guarantee him a generous amount of shock “therapy”. It was either that, or he was simply searching for a reason to approach her.

'Ridiculous' he thought as he drifted to sleep.

-

The woman was in fact a new orderly, as he learned when Carl – the head orderly – officially introduced her in the staff room the next morning. He also learned her name and he caught himself repeating it over and over in his head as he kept stealing glances at her throughout the day. Meanwhile, she seemed to do everything in her power to avoid eye-contact, stoically staring elsewhere while Peter raked his eyes over her now-clothed body in a way that he hoped wasn't too obvious. The memory of her nude under the shower played on a loop in his mind, and he was terrified to notice that the same, horrid feeling as yesterday took possession of himself, causing his underwear to grow tight.

Peter was petrified and unobtrusively folded his hands in front of his hips, staring at the wall, staring at the ceiling, staring at the rainbow-painted walls to force the thought of her out of his brain, but to no avail. She was still there, in the corner of his eye. Peter had never found himself in this condition in the middle of the day, and the blame was clearly on her. If he were superstitious, he would say she bewitched him.

Finally, he found himself and his lower regions coming to rest when his new colleague was asked to help along in one of the testing rooms. Relieved, he stalked over to Eleven who was practicing alone in the corner of the room. Now that his thoughts were starting to clear, he could focus on his plan again, and he couldn't allow anyone or anything to become a distraction.

-

During lunch break, Peter's eyes wandered over the faces of his co-workers with hateful disinterest and revulsion, and strangely he found the latter spiking when he discovered Carl, seated across from the woman whose attention Peter was seeking. He had hoped to find a moment to approach her now, but Carl seemed to be babbling endlessly. Meanwhile the woman only nodded and smiled as she was poking around in her food. Peter recognized a fake-smile; he had honed his own in the mirror for years.

Eventually, she stood up and mumbled a feigned apology to Carl which Peter could not hear thanks to the canteen's noisy sound level. When she pushed past the exit door, Peter seized his chance and basically jumped off the chair, hurrying after her. He got close enough to touch her shoulder to make her stand still, and the thought was so tempting it suddenly drove his heart rate up rapidly. Ultimately, he decided against it and cleared his throat instead.

“Hello, I'm Peter. I've been meaning to sincerely apologize to you for, uh...” Peter began his well-practiced apology but was immediately thrown when she turned around and returned his gaze with big eyes which grew even wider when she recognized who was talking to her. “I didn't mean to... I mean I didn't expect you to be... there.”

The way he stammered irked Peter immensely. Peter Ballard was not one to stammer. He was known for his well-composed attitude and softly spoken, practiced words, going as far as being labeled 'eerie' and 'robotic' by his co-workers. Now, he was none of all that. His cheeks burned red and he felt like crumbling before the person in front of him, who was not only physically smaller than him, but also nothing but an ordinary human. There was no reason for his body to display such cruel signs of anxiety.

“It's alright” she finally spoke up and lowered her gaze, looking considerably ashamed herself. “I, uh, intentionally went late at night, hoping I wouldn't encounter anyone.”

Full of surprise, Peter regarded her flustered face. Embarrassingly, he had to clear his throat twice before trusting his mouth to speak. “Why didn't you use the Ladies' shower room?”

“The... Ladies' shower room?” She stared at him with big eyes full of confusion before realization set in. “Oh, so there is a Ladies' shower room?!”

“Of course. Why wouldn't there be one?”

Anger flashed over her features for a moment before she regained her composed facade, but Peter could still see the ire behind this illusion of calm. “When I arrived here yesterday, Carl showed me around and he... He told me there's a common shower room for all the staff and I... believed him. Seems like I shouldn't have.”

“Oh...” After yesterday's encounter, Peter had a rough idea just why the man might have told her such a blatant lie. The mere thought of Carl (well, anyone actually) seeing her the way he had seen her made Peter's cold distaste towards the man turn into hot repulsion, and a strangely possessive inner voice roared out that he had seen her first and claimed her thereby. As he pictured Carl feasting his eyes on her body, the urge to snap his neck like he had so often imagined became almost unbearable.

“I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I didn't mean to frighten you there.” The woman muttered with soft, quiet voice, noticing Peter's tense posture without understanding what was going through his head.

“F-frighten me?” A storm of something unfamiliar was raging inside Peter's body and mind. Not only was she beautiful, she was kind and humble as well, apologizing to him although there was no need to. “You didn't frighten me. I-, I-” Peter desperately searched for the right words as his cheeks and ears were glowing red. Fright might not be quite the right word, but there was nervous anxiety spinning and churning in his abdomen and all he could do was hope vehemently that she wouldn't cast a look down at his hips.

“Well, you sure seemed a little... frightened yesterday” she chuckled and there was obvious mischief in her eyes. The fluttering feeling in Peter's chest hiccupped in response as he kindled with anxiety, without understanding what he was anxious about.

“D-do you want me to show you where it is?” He suddenly found himself asking and was met by huge, slowly blinking eyes. “The Ladies' sh-shower room I mean” he added and immediately felt like an utter idiot. It was none of his business showing her around; she would do fine by herself – Why did he even offer?! He cared about no one except himself.

“Yes, I would... appreciate that” she responded after a dreadful moment of silence and Peter quietly exhaled with relief. “It seems like I need someone more competent than Carl to show me around.” There still was an oddly suggestive tone in her voice which Peter found hard to read, but despite that, he burned up with unreasonable, territorial pride thanks to having been complimented. Take that, Carl! She's already liking me better than you.

“Please, follow me” he tried to keep his voice as firm as possible, straightened his back and brought his chest out as he determinedly led her along the corridors.

“So, how long have you been working here?” The woman tried to start a casual conversation as she walked alongside him.

“For too long” Peter replied vaguely. He despised small-talk, but for her he might make an exception. However, she seemed to notice that he was not the most talkative person, so she remained pleasantly quiet for the rest of the walk. The silence, however, only made him hear the rushing and beating of his own blood and heart louder as he was second-guessing all of the life choices he had made since yesterday night. Suddenly he wished she would say something – anything – to distract him from the tormenting feeling in his groins, but she made no move to put him out of his misery. Finally, they rounded the last corner and the quite secluded Ladies' shower room laid in front of them, looking identical to the men's one, except lesser frequented.

“Here we are.” Peter held his hand out as if to present the unspectacular room to her, hoping she wouldn't notice the ridiculous tremble in his voice.

“Ah. Thank you so much for showing me. I hope I'll be able to find it again. These hallways all look the same.” Chuckling softly, she leaned against the wall with crossed arms and shot him a bright smile with twinkling eyes. What was there to smile so widely about?! Peter's heart thumped violently under the influence of her playful expression, it felt almost like being nauseous, but... nice?

“Y-you're welcome. If you ever need any more help, feel f-free to approach me.” What was he doing?! The silly words had just tumbled out of his mouth, as if his superior brain had been overridden by an ulterior virus that had been activated and undammed the moment he had laid eyes on her. Peter's mouth felt too dry for speaking.

“Oh, that is such a kind offer, thank you” she smirked and he didn't fail to notice how her eyes flitted over his body for half a second. “Actually... I'm pretty sure I haven't memorized the way yet. Perhaps you could show me again, later today?” The request was accompanied by wink and smile crawling over her lips, which caused Peter's puzzled mind to short-circuit for good.

“I-, you mean-, I don't-” He was stuttering like a broken computer, sizzling white-hot on the inside as if electric fire was pouring from cables that were his nerve tracts.

“I have an even better idea” she amusedly interposed his humiliating stammering. “Why don't you meet me here tonight? Let's say 11pm? I had a feeling you... liked what you were seeing last night.”

“I-, I-, I-, yes. Alright. 11pm.” What was happening, what was happening, what was happening?! Peter's heart was booming like an earthquake while spewing blood through his veins like a volcano spewed scorching lava.

“Fantastic. Then I'll see you tonight. Don't leave me waiting, … Peter.”

-

Peter should be honing the escape plan that he had been carefully planning and constructing for months – his highest priority. And what was he doing instead? Trudging down the hallway to the Ladies' shower room at 10:55pm with anxious feet, following some mysterious invitation which somehow made his lower regions swell and throb in way that could only be described as primitive and embarrassing.

He felt young and stupid, although he knew he was neither of the two. Something was wrong with him. The physical reaction of his body to the presence of this new, female orderly irked him beyond compare. It was incredibly distracting and very unpleasantly so, as if he had caught a brain parasite by doing as little as looking at her. Knowing he should be stronger than that, because he saw himself above craving the company of humans, he was nonetheless lured by her call.

Being unable to decipher his own emotions made him jittery and insecure, because he was convinced she knew something that he didn't. The suggestive undertone in her voice, followed by a smirk and a wink – Peter should know what those symptoms imply, and yet he was unsure; overwhelmed by his own buzzing thoughts. Could it be that he was witnessing sexual attraction at first hand? A sentiment he had never been able to comprehend? How could he know, how could he know? No one had ever told him how it feels.

Whatever it was, it was pleasant. Unpleasant. Pleasant. Unpleasant. Excitement, fear and want.

He hoped she wouldn't notice the rock-hard boner that was sitting in his pants, adjusted in a position that was hopefully less blatant than the fucking tent he had had yesterday. When he rounded the final corner, the sound of gently streaming water met his ears and he found his feet slowing down as his heart was hammering with nauseating anxiety. Peter had expected her to be waiting for him outside and perhaps explain what exactly she was seeking to do with him in the shower room. Well – He could only assume she wanted to shower, so he had brought his own towel and shampoo, and he was currently clutching both for dear life as he pushed past the doors after taking one last breath.

*** Your POV & Peter’s POV / switching fluidly ***

Nervously, your eyes flitted towards the door when you noticed a movement there. With heavily pounding heart you sat up straight, stuck your chest out and folded your bare legs over one another. You had already discarded your clothing and neatly placed them down on the very bench you were sitting on. Instead, your body was wrapped in a crispy white towel which reached down to the middle of your thighs, ready to be torn off at any moment – preferably by the hands of the very man who entered the shower room just now. Oh God, he was looking horribly nervous, which somehow caused your own anxiety to abate.

Someone like him had no right being so afraid of a hook-up date, but your inner voice told you that the man named Peter had absolutely no clue how irresistibly handsome he was. The blond-framed face of an angel, looking both soft and sharp at once, containing perfectly plump lips and dark blue eyes with pupils blown so wide that his irises were rendered to a thin trim. You were positive you had never seen a more ravishing human before.

“Hello” you breathed and rose from the bench, slowly making your way towards him.

“H-hello” Peter rasped in response and seemed frozen in place, enamored by the way your body moved and how the sloppily fastened towel slipped more out of place with every step of yours.

“I'm glad you came” you smirked with half-lidded eyes and came to a halt right and front of him before swiftly wrapping your arms around the man's neck, getting on the tips of your toes to start off the evening with a filthy kiss. But to your utter surprise, Peter flinched back hard and shook your arms off, eyes wide like saucers and you could practically tell his heart was jumping out of his chest.

“What are you d-doing?” He gasped, voice shaky and you noticed his Adam's apple bob repeatedly.

“Huh?” You returned his anxious gaze with huge eyes full of confusion. A dizzy, nasty feeling crept over you, as if you were in the wrong movie. “What did you think we were going to do?”

He had been flirting with you, or hadn't he?! Offering his “help” to you after showing you the way to the shower room? The flush on his cheeks, his flustered demeanor, the fucking boner in his pants when he had caught you under the shower? Or had your hormones been playing tricks on you and Peter had no interest in you? But then why did he even show up?!

“I... I don't know” he admitted, looking utterly haunted, as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown.

“You don’t know?” You repeated slowly, trying to make sense of it. Your invitation had been almost as blatant as it can be.

“Yes, I h-have no idea what I’m doing here!” The man spoke up louder with an audible tremble in his voice and he backed off, hugging his towel.

“I… But then why did you come?”

“You’re right, I should leave. E-Enjoy your shower or whatever you came here to do.” Peter spun around, ignoring the raging force in his lower belly that screamed at him to stay and find out, but his anxiety had reached a level previously unknown to him. He was more anxious than he had been when his class mates at Hawkins Middle school had yanked his sketchbook out of his backpack and torn the pages apart while making gagging noises. Whatever you were seeking to do, he knew he was bound to make an utter fool of himself, and he wasn’t ready to expose himself to such humiliation.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I was trying to say. Please wait! Did I do something wro-” You desperately tried to keep the fleeing man from leaving, but he had already jumped out the door while holding his towel between you and him like a protective wall.

The door snapped shut and what remained behind was you, standing like a doused poodle in an utterly puzzled state of mind. There went your plans on having a steamy night and hooking up with the man who was undoubtedly the hottest and most angelic creature around the place – Fuck, there was no doubt he was the hottest you had ever seen and would ever see. And on top of that, he seemed like a kind person from what little impressions you had so far. Being flustered had looked beautiful on him, but it seemed like his nerves had gotten the better of him, for whatever reason. It's not like you found yourself very intimidating. All you could do was dearly hope that he wouldn't spread rumors about you being easy. That would be a nightmare, considering the number of male colleagues you had.

Disappointed, you dropped your towel on the bench and stepped under the stream because you in fact needed a shower after such a long and honestly quite overwhelming and disturbing first day of work, although you hated having to take it alone. With a heavy heart, you turned up the temperature a little and started slathering your skin with body-wash before closing your eyes and just standing there, trying to let your thoughts and sadness stream away with the hot water.

You were starting to zone out and it could have been a minute or five of absentmindedly running your hands through your hair, but the sudden sound of a throat being cleared made you jump out of your skin and instinctively covered up your body as your eyes snapped open full of panic.

In front of you stood Peter and his pale cheeks had the color of strawberries. You practically smelled the pulse racing under his skin and the tall man had the hunched posture of an anxious boy on his first day of school. It would have been pitiable if he hadn't looked so incredibly adorable doing it.

“O-oh, you came back” you stated the obvious and slowly removed your hands from your body, exposing yourself to him, even though it was safe to assume that he had probably stared already anyway. It was not like you minded, however, thanks to his previous defensive behavior towards your advances, your poise had been thrown and you felt terribly self-conscious. So, you just stood there awkwardly and felt your heartbeat hammer and cheeks burn up.

“I-, yes, I'm sorry for...” Peter was sorry for rushing off like a coward, for embarrassing himself in front of a beautiful woman like you, for having no fucking clue what he was supposed to do or if what he felt was normal and reciprocated by you, but he got none of that out. Instead, he stared in awe and with every passing second, the air seemed to become heavier, the room hotter and the throbbing in his swollen groins more unbearable.

You saw him rake his eyes over your body, saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed when his gaze lingered on your chest and inner thighs, full of shame-faced yearning and anxiety. Meanwhile, you looked around the shambles of your self-confidence and luckily found a piece of it, spurred by Peter's quite obviously heavily flustered demeanor.

'He likes what he's seeing, he likes what he's seeing', you tried to reassure yourself. 'I'm not making things up!' With a tilt of your head, you put your hands on your hips and stuck out your chest a little.

“Well, I'm glad you changed your mind.” You cast a playful smirk his way and pretended to be busy fiddling with the water temperature. This hookup-date, if you could even call it that, seemed unorthodox in every way, so you decided to go for a less offensive route. “Aren't you going to come in the shower too?” You asked nonchalantly and pointed at the shower station across from yours, as if there was truly no big deal to it.

Peter seemed to stumble over his own thoughts, mulling them at the speed of hectic electrons traveling along abuzz neural pathways, flaring up panicky.

“I... Okay. Alright.” He finally felled a decision – the one that felt right although his mind was blaring with panic. “I'm going to... undress myself then” he declared awkwardly and began unbuttoning his white dress shirt with trembling fingers.

“Sounds like a good idea for taking a shower” you winked and Peter burnt up with fresh embarrassment when the last button was undone and he slid the fabric off his shoulders, swiftly followed by the white undershirt. He avoided your gaze while setting both down on the bench, next to your own clothing. His own gaze lingered on your discarded underwear for a just a moment too long and he didn't understand why the sight of two small pieces of fabric made him feel this way.

You were unsure if Peter would appreciate a compliment, given how shy he seemed to be, but you greedily raked your eyes over his bare torso, feeling your insides constrict at the sight of lithe muscles beneath firm skin, sinewy arms which were just the right amount of bony to make you feel a certain type of way. His physique reminded you of a swift predator whose agility outmatched his strength, which only made him all the more dangerous because he was easily underestimated by his enemies; A white leopard with blue eyes.

“No need to be shy. I'm naked too” you sighed with breathy voice as you followed the motion of Peter's hands on their way down his firm stomach, insecurely coming to a halt at the hem of his pants.

“Yes, but you're... Never mind.” He was referring to the fact that there was a blatant indicator of his aroused state of mind on his nude body, whereas there seemed to be no physical sign that you might feel the same – None that was obvious to him, at least, none that he knew about. He did notice, however, that your body had tensed up ever since he started undressing himself and you were inconspicuously squeezing your thighs together. Whether that was a good or bad sign, he couldn't tell.

 When his shaky fingers finally started fumbling with belt and zipper despite the raging anxiety, it felt like wrestling down a feral, panicky animal. Before finally pulling the garments down, he turned away from you so you wouldn't directly see his obscenely erect member. Finally, he was naked, still facing away from you as he stalked over to the shower station. Peter felt completely and utterly vulnerable; like the small rodents he used to capture in snare traps as a kid must have felt – weak and helpless.

Since he knew, he couldn't remain facing the wall all night, he finally turned around in slow motion, despite the brutal hammering of his heart. Meanwhile, you marveled at the sight of his firm shoulders, slim waist and you also didn't fail to notice that he had a terribly cute ass. However, you were considerably more interested in the front of him, and when he was finally facing you, your eyes instantaneously locked onto his cock – thick, long and rock-solid, adorned by a number of twining veins. You didn't even attempt to conceal your staring. After all, he had had the pleasure of marveling at your nude body twice already; so, you found it only fair.

“It... It doesn't normally look like that, I'm s-sorry” Peter suddenly commented with a tinge of panic in his voice and brought both hands in front of his swollen nether regions to seal himself away from your intense gaze. You were massively taken by surprise and burst out laughing, clamping your hand over your mouth immediately after to stifle the ugly sounds. You felt terrible.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry for laughing; I swear I'm not laughing because of the way you look, good God, you look perfect.” Flush erupted over Peter's face like red embers, either out of shame or thanks to the compliment. “It's just the way you said that... Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem rather... inexperienced?”

“I'm... afraid you're right” the man admitted and lowered his gaze, standing awkwardly under the shower with his hands still in front of his groins.

“So, you're a virgin too?” You asked curiously and almost couldn't believe your ears.

“I... uh, I've never been naked in front of a woman, if that's what you mean” he anxiously squeezed the words out; throat feeling tight. “Is that a bad thing? I'd fully understand if you preferred me to leave.”

“No! That's not a bad thing at all! I just didn't expect it. And don't you even think of leaving, I'm so glad you came back!” You exclaimed hastily while thinking: 'Oh, dear. Oh, dear precious.'

You would have never thought it would be your task to guide a gorgeous man like him, but it was not like you minded. On the very contrary – You actually found the thought quite arousing. Of being the first to touch and seduce this angelic being who seemed to have no idea just what effect he had on you – and possibly on others.

“Don't worry. Everything is alright. You can put your hands down, I promise.” Hesitantly, Peter followed your instruction and you were tempted to call him a good boy. “See, we're just looking at each other. There's nothing to be ashamed about. And I... enjoy looking at you.”

“I... enjoy... looking at you too” Peter admitted the obvious, stammering. When he was done speaking, his lips remained parted and his eyes were set on your crotch. “You look...” Peter didn't know how to give compliments. “Good.”

“Thank you” your cheeks burned up and you absentmindedly chewed on your bottom lip. Your core throbbed with lust and you imagined all the things those pink lips of his could do to you. “Wouldn't you like to take a closer look at me?” You softly proposed and cast a wanton smile his way. “Aren’t you curious what it’s like? That's why you're here, aren't you?”

“I am, but… I don’t want to make a fool of myself” Peter admitted with a face full of shame, but you didn't fail to notice how his cock jumped slightly at the sound of your proposition, and all you wanted was to rush over there, get on your knees and suck him off, but you violently contained yourself.

“You won’t. I don’t care. Please, just come over here and touch me. Please.” You begged with puppy eyes and found it increasingly hard to concentrate; brain turning mushy and spongy from the rush of blood to your slick, throbbing nether regions which had been begging and yearning for Peter's touch for the past day. “I need you to touch me. Please come here. Please, please, please.”

Peter found himself melting like candle wax, growing weak from your countless pleas. His resistance was being washed away by your soft, irresistible voice which made him burn hotter than the pattering water on his back. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't end up like the rodents in his snare traps as he was lured in by you, closing the gap between you and him step by step, until he stood right in front of you without touching, a cock's length apart. The pounding of his heart was a crescendo.

“Hey...” you whispered and carefully brought your hands up to graze his tense arms – Only the arms, but like before, he flinched away fiercely with a panicky look in his pretty eyes.

“I… I actually never let anyone touch me” he explained, looking torn.

“Oh… Well, this is going to be a little difficult without touching.”

“I'm sorry” he breathed and you knew you were speaking to two personas holding a rancorous internal battle.

“Then why don’t you touch me first, huh? I won’t move a finger until you want me to. And you can touch me however you like.”

“Really, can I?” You saw some of the tension falling off his face, replaced with a look of yearn and hunger that made your pussy clench hard around nothingness. Eagerly, you nodded your head yes.

“Yes, please touch me. I've actually been thinking about it all day” you admitted, noticing just how desperate your voice sounded.

“Is that really true?” Peter asked full of wonder and when you fervently nodded again and closed your eyes with anticipation, finally his hands were on you. The caress was brief and light like that of a phantom, and yet it consumed all of your senses. Tender fingertips left traces of fire on your arms as they wandered upwards, ghosting over your shoulders and collar bones, lingering on your neck for a fleeting moment which drove your heart rate up. Peter's breath was quick and loud in your ears despite the respectful distance he kept. As his fingers dropped lower, his movement slowed and he came to a hold shortly over the mounds of your breasts, hesitating.

“Go on” you encouraged him with strained voice, keeping your fists clutched by your side because you feared that otherwise you would be unable to contain yourself from throwing yourself at him. Soft like feathers, Peter's hands came to caress your chest, touching you tenderly as if you were a porcelain doll and he was anxious to break you. A sigh escaped your lips when his digits flicked over your erect nipples, which made you arch your back into his touch.

“D-did I hurt you?” Peter made a move to withdraw his hands, causing your own hands to shoot up at the speed of light to clutch his wrists.

“No! I mean, sorry.” Quickly, you released the shocked man's wrists. “You didn't hurt me at all. Please, do it again. It feels so good.”

“Oh...” Peter's voice was fluttering like the wings of a butterfly when he shyly continued the ministrations on your chest. “Like this?” His fingers brushed over your nipples once again, luring a low whine out of your throat.

“Y-yes, but harder, please. You can be a little rougher if you want. Don't worry, you won't hurt me.”

“Okay...” Peter whispered, awe and arousal seeping from his voice as he palmed over your breasts firmer, squeezing the flesh with both hands. Moaning, your mouth snapped open and you greedily leaned into his hands, which spurred Peter further. He took one of your hardened nipples between thumb and index finger and gave the nub a firm tug, causing your knees to buckle as it drove a shot of pleasure straight to your throbbing core.

“Oh, fuck, yes” you moaned and found your insides releasing more and more slick as Peter continued toying with your nipples. He leaned closer, seeming to inhale the sounds he managed to coax out of you.

“Can I... touch you there?” He suddenly asked as one hand confidently dropped down to your stomach, resting right above your pubic mound.

“Yes! Oh God, yes, please” you begged unashamedly while digging your nails into your own hips. Not being allowed to touch the gorgeous man before you was the closest you had ever been to torture. Your soul deserted your body when Peter's hand finally traveled between your thighs whilst the other one remained firm on your chest, tugging on your flesh.

His nimble fingers ghosted over your cunt, grazing it lightly which made you shudder. Clumsily, he felt along your folds, even brushing over your clit in his wake, being rewarded by a jolt of your body and a breathy moan from your parted lips. However, he failed to repeat the particular motion.  Instead, he stared down your body, wearing a concentrated expression and furrowed brows. You saw the thumping of his excited pulse along the veins in his neck. You were dripping wet, and yet he didn't push inside.

'What a fucking tease' you thought, until you remembered that he didn't know better, and your nether regions might be a little less overseeable than your breasts which were in plain view after all. It was like he was eagerly searching for something without knowing for what. Perhaps now was the right point of time to gently take the reins back.

“If you decided to trust me for a moment, I could… make you feel very good too” you promised with breathy voice. “I could make your ‘problem’ down there go away.”

“I... F-fuck, I'm not sure” Peter hesitantly removed his hand from your cunt, sensing that he wasn't quite on the right track yet, but left it on your waist, squeezing your skin there as if he couldn't stand being separated from you now that he had discovered the joy of raking his hands over your body.

“I'm very positive you're going to like it.”

“But how do you know?” His eyes sought yours, pupils blown impossibly wide. Meanwhile, his hard cock was almost prodding your stomach, so you seized the opportunity and leaned just a tad closer, brushing your skin against its velvety head in a way that could have been accidental. In response, Peter's eyes fluttered shut and a needy growl escaped his throat, chiming in your ears like heavenly music.

“It's just biology, darling” you rasped with a smirk and boldly let your fingertips graze his thigh. Even though he flinched, he didn't pull back like he previously did. It was just biology, you said, which was finally an explanation Peter could live with. If it was just biology, it meant there was nothing wrong with him. If it was normal, there was no reason to be scared, and you seemed to know what you were doing.

'Just do it, just do it, just let it happen, it feels right, it feels good. When it feels so good, it can't possibly be wrong.' An urgent inner voice whispered to him. Being touched by you, that's what he had dreamed about.

Peter sharply sucked in air when your hand lightly danced over his thigh again, slowly moving higher to where a presence seemed to be sitting and throbbing, a feeling so strong it almost made him think he had been transfigured into a primitive animal. Meanwhile, your other hand came to caress his stomach and chest, trailing upwards until you wrapped it around the back of his neck and gently made him make eye contact with you.

“Have you ever seen two people kiss?” You muttered and held his flustered gaze with half-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“I have...” Peter's voice was soft and fleeting like the stroke of a bird's wing.

“Would you like to try it out with me?” Your face was moving closer as you spoke, and your lips truly did look utterly irresistible to him, so all he could do was stare at them, nervously, anticipating, floating on the edge of insanity.

“Yes, I do” he finally whispered and before he had the chance to reconsider, your lips were on his; soft, warm and perfect, moving tenderly – But the best thing about it was the taste and the tiny sounds you made, sighing and whining into his mouth, causing a whole swarm of frenzied butterflies to rise in Peter's stomach, tumbling over one another in a way that made both his heartstrings and his groins throb.

And then, the butterflies transformed into demons who were either looking to kill him or teleport him to a dimension of raw, untold bliss. Your hand was on his cock, wrapped around the tip and jerking him off like he had done to himself last night – Except you were doing it better.

Peter flinched heavily when your hand made contact with his member, but not in a way of backing off. No, he practically jumped on you, jerked his hips into your hand while crashing his lips on yours, mimicking the motion you were performing with your own, as if his primal urges were finally taking over and casting all the doubt aside.

Greedily, he devoured your mouth while holding onto your waist with both hands, holding on for dear life as each stroke of your nimble hand mentally catapulted him in front of heaven's gates. The pleasure built up so quickly, he felt like a rocket-ship with roaring, fuming engines, fire ablaze, except that he never took off. He remained tied to the ground, tied to your torturous hand, providing him pleasure like he had never experienced before.

“Please...” the word left his mouth naturally. Since you seemed to be in control now, it only felt right to direct his pleas your way.

“Don't be impatient, pretty boy” you cooed with complacent voice, causing an unexpectedly pleasant tingle to run down his spine. Pretty boy, you had called him a pretty boy. Just why did it feel so good being called so? “I'll make you cum soon enough. We don't want the fun to be over all too quickly, hm?”

“Y-yes, yes, you're right” he nodded zealously, moaning into your mouth between kisses as you stroked along the length of his cock with leisure and tenderness, driving him close to madness. This was torment. His cock ached and twitched angrily in your hands, begging for rough touch and the desiderated release which was contained by you. You seemed to know exactly how far to go before slowing back down, safely preventing his climax time after time, which despite the hazy, pleasant agony made him think you must be having awfully much experience with this.

“Is this... activity... something that people frequently do for each other?”

“You'd be surprised” you chuckled amused and gave his dick a teasing squeeze which made a broken moan tumble off his plump lips.

“S-s-so we're not doing something... dirty or inappropriate?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Not when we both want it.”

“I want it so fucking bad.” Never before had he voiced his desires to another person so openly, but it was like an inner force pushed them outside, towards your waiting ears. “I feel like I've never wanted anything more in my entire life.” What sounded pathetic was nothing but the sheer, overwhelming truth. In this moment, Peter couldn't care less about his long-planned escape or his raging hatred for humanity. All he wanted and needed was you; to devour you and have you in every way you would show him, and have himself devoured by you – Even though you were nothing but a human yourself. You had fully claimed his thoughts. “Please, just... I need it so fucking bad, I-, I-, I feel like I'm about to explode, I-, I don't know how much more I can take, ahh!”

“Ssshh, it's alright. I'll give you what you want. Stay just like this and kiss me.” You murmured with a teasing smirk and made an 'O' out of thumb and index finger which you wrapped around the head of his cock, softly jerking along the spot where tip and shaft were transitioning, knowing just how sensitive it was.

Whining heart-wrenchingly, Peter sloppily kissed along your mouth with wet lips, utterly blissed-out. Moving automatically as he was searching and yearning for more, more, more, he pushed you a couple inches backwards until your back bumped into the tiled wall. Now, you were caged between his arms, being kissed with despair as you jerked him off with agonizing patience.

“I... I want to do things” he suddenly declared and his voice was dark and heavy, like he was about to snap.

“What things, pretty boy?” You cooed and moved your free hand down to palm his testicles, giving them a teasing squeeze, which made him bury one hand in your hair and give it a sharp tug as he simultaneously buried his head in your neck, rendering himself smaller than he was as he was fully succumbing to your control.

“Things to you” he growled, which made a hot, pleasant shiver run down your spine.

“What do you want to do to me. Describe it.”

“I... don't know.” His voice was full of strain and despair when he admitted. “This is going to sound – f-f-fuck – quite horrifying I am afraid, it's like I want to be... i-inside you.”

“Ahh, I see” you laughed seductively; Meanwhile your core brimmed with arousal. “I am happy to tell you that this is a fully... natural urge.” You agonizingly moved your hand along the length of his cock, feeling every vein along your fingers.

“Please, please, please, I'll do a-a-anything for you” Peter was fully begging now, hiding his face in your neck where he placed wet kisses and panted heavily, voice laced with strain like he was close to tears from overwhelm.

“I'll take you up on that” you purred. “Then be a good boy now and cum for me, like I bet you did last night too, didn't you?”

“How d-do you know?! Ah, shit, oh, fuck, fuck, f-fuck-” His breathing fastened, muscles tensed and his poor heart raced and pounded like a jackhammer.

“I can see right through you” you gave a menacing chuckle and finally picked up the pace, firmly and roughly pumping along Peter's cock. “Cum for me now, so you won't have to do it tonight all alone in your bedroom.”

“Ah, ahh, AAHH, I'm gonna... I'm cumming” Peter moaned out a series of broken cries and pleas as he vigorously rutted into your hand with stuttering hips until spurts of hot cum hit your stomach and coated your hand, serving as lubricant as you pumped him empty, stroked the panting man through his release until his legs were trembling and the very last drop of semen was spilled.

“Better?” You asked after releasing his softened member from your grasp, allowing him to stand up tall and catch his labored breath. He seemed a little dizzy – and utterly blissed-out, like the orgasm had teleported him to another galaxy and back.

“Y-yes, God, yes. Fuck. That was... The best I've ever felt. Thank you for that.” He drowsily smiled down on you with awestruck eyes. “Can you feel something like that too?”

“I can...” You admitted with an excited smirk, thrilled to see that his first thought after climaxing was directed at you and your own pleasure.

“How? I want to... make you feel this way too. Tell me what to do” he demanded eagerly which made your abdomen knot with aching desire.

“Then get on your knees” you demanded with breathy voice, throbbing with anticipation.

“On my knees?” He seemed a little baffled.

“Yes, on your knees. Or is there a problem with that?” You cocked your head, feigning a stern expression which made him relent in a millisecond.

“No! No problem at all. I'll do whatever you want.” Peter's whole face seemed to beam brightly as he willingly sank to his knees and sought your guidance with big eyes full of devotion.

“Aahh, so eager” you praised him. “Good boy. I bet you can make me feel so good.”

“Yes, I can. I will!” Peter exclaimed confidently, desperate to prove himself worthy of your time and affection, so you wouldn't feel the need to fall back on Carl or anyone else who were probably more experienced than him. If anyone dared to lay but one finger on you, Peter would shoot them down in flames and shred them apart. He had claimed you and wouldn't share you with anyone, ever.

“Do you see that... nub?” You asked as you took a slightly wider stance and spread your lower lips apart with two fingers, revealing your clit to Peter's fiery-blue, curious gaze. “You can either rub it with your fingertips or you can... Lick it, if you want to. It'll make me feel good.”

“L-lick it?” Peter asked surprised and closely inspected your partially exposed nether regions with awe and fascination. It would have made you feel self-conscious, if not for the utter adoration in his eyes.

“I know it might sound a little gross, but since we're under the shower and I'm clean, I- AHH, fuck!” Peter hadn't hesitated for another second. His face was buried between your thighs and his tongue was eagerly coming out to flick over your clit, licking fast and fervently over the nub.

“Like this?” The man muttered against your slick center; hot breath fanning you for a second before he eagerly got back to work.

“O-oh, fuck, yes. Just like this. That's g-good. So fucking good” you moaned with high-pitched voice and furrowed brows, resting your head and back against the cool wall for support. Both of your hands came down to hold Peter's head, grabbing strands of wet, curly hair despite your fear of him perhaps pulling away. However, your touch seemed to have the very opposite effect on him. A low, needy hum escaped his mouth, sending vibrations through your aching core.

If it was even possible, Peter scooted impossibly closer and pushed his whole beautiful face up against your pussy, increasing the pressure of his tongue. When he was rewarded by an ecstatic whine of yours, followed by a jerk of your hips, he stepped up his efforts even harder. By placing both hands on your shaky thighs, he pried them apart, granting him perfect access to your dripping cunt. He had no idea if the amount of leakage was normal, but he found himself actually liking the taste, so he lapped everything up like a dying man at the fountain of youth.

Your core was throbbing and aching violently; the fiery knot within you growing tighter and hotter with every relentless flick of the man's tongue on your clit. It was either by instinct or by coincidence, but he kept the pace perfectly steady, meeting the gentle thrusts of your hips against his gorgeous face. It was like your insides were slowly being set abuzz, lick by lick, like the swelling sound of crickets in the night, like a fountain on the brink of welling up with a liberating squall.

With firm fingers, you tightly held Peter's head and fiercely rutted your hips, taking his breath away until his pitiable whimpers were audible even despite the streaming shower. But despite the lack of oxygen, his devotion never faltered. If anything, he heightened his efforts, licking firm and fast over your throbbing, swollen bundle of nerves as moan after moan left your parted lips on your climb towards the peak of ecstasy.

What pushed you over the edge was neither the firm pressure of his tongue, nor his arousing, stifled gasps for air – It was his eyes. When he raised them at you, looking you straight in the eyes with nothing but the rawest form of reckless abandon in them, it was all over with you.

“Oh God, f-f-fuck, I'm cumming” you howled out, clawing at the man's scalp while rutting against him like an animal, toppling over the summit of pleasure. Your body was wrecked by wave after wave of intense pleasure which had your pussy clenching fiercely for half a minute straight.

Peter found himself mildly surprised by the lack of squirting bodily fluids, having suspected something similar to his own experience, but from the way your head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut, body shuddering and flinching with every flick over your swollen nub, accompanied by endless moans and whines of ecstasy, he could tell you were going through heaven and back. He did that to you, he realized and his chest swelled with possessive manic pride, so he kept on caressing you through your orgasm, even though his vision started going black and blurry. He would gladly exchange air for your pleasure anytime. It would be the easiest decision of his life.

Finally, your body went slack and you released Peter's head from the death grip you had kept it in, letting the poor man breathe which he greedily did, staring up at you with glossy eyes and puffy, slick-coated lips which were shimmering dark pink. He looked like a fallen angel at your feet, dripping with water and utterly gorgeous.

“Did that feel good?” He inquired with innocent eyes, round and shiny like marbles.

“That felt absolutely incredible. Th-thank you” you rasped breathlessly. “Please, stand up. Your knees must be hurting.”

“I don't mind that” he replied truthfully, but you could see his knees were dark red from resting on the hard floor for several minutes.

“Why don't we meet in a more comfortable place tomorrow night, hm?” You proposed with a playful wink as you squirted some body wash into the palm of your hand to wash the fresh sheen of sweat off your body. “And have some more fun?”

“More... fun?” Peter asked cluelessly and hesitantly mirrored your actions, stepping away from you and under his own shower stream with reluctance, as if he physically couldn't stand being separated from you.

“Yes. There's so much more” you replied with a smirk. “You will get to be inside me, if you want to.” Peter didn't yet know what you meant, but he was eager and desperate to try anything you proposed, and if it meant feeling another rush of euphoria by your hand, he would sell his soul for the experience.

“I want that” the man nodded enthusiastically. “I want to... do this again as often as possible.”

“Oh, very good. Then meet me at my room tomorrow night, same time. Actually... I want you to do something for me.” A sudden idea crossed your mind, making you feel especially wicked, followed by freshly blooming, new arousal, despite the previous intense orgasm.

“What is it? I'll do anything.” Peter's urgent tone of voice made it obvious that he sincerely meant it.

“Don't touch yourself until we see each other again. I know you've already been thinking about it again, I can see it in your eyes. I want to be the one to make you cum.”

“Oh...” For a second he deeply regretted his previous overzealousness. How would he even make it through the night without releasing himself? He was already growing hard and bothered again, just from looking at you from afar, and he could tell you noticed as your eyes flitted towards his re-hardening cock. However, your stern look shredded the short-lived swell of stubbornness to pieces, so he nodded eagerly, hoping to be rewarded profoundly if he obeyed your command. “O-okay, I won't touch myself. It's better when you do it anyway.”

“Good boy. I know you'll be having a boner all day long tomorrow; I saw you today and how you were trying to hide it.”

“O-oh God, yes, I couldn't stop thinking about you...” Peter burned up with hot shame, learning that you had in fact noticed his pathetic attempts of concealing the effect you had been having on him all day.

“I know. And you better be thinking of me again. Think of all the things we can do, and don't touch your pretty cock until I allow you to, okay?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

Chapter Text

When there was a gentle knock on your door the following night at 11pm, the first thing you felt wasn't excitement or euphoria.

Your mood was gloomier than anything else because not only had your work day exhausted you to the bones, you also found yourself being distraught out of your mind from having to witness things that had definitely not been mentioned in your work contract. Today, you saw a kid getting tasered by a chargeable collar around their neck for minutes straight. How anyone could still have appetite or even be in the mood for sexual activity in the evening was beyond you.

The other orderlies however, Peter included, had worn distant expressions of apathy, whilst you had clasped your hands over your mouth in shock. You could only assume they had radically planed off their capability for empathy to not perish in this brutal work environment, and you should either do the same or get the fuck back out of here as fast as possible. However, first you had to deal with the problem in front of your door.

“Come on in” you called and the handle was pushed down instantly.

The man named Peter Ballard entered and he looked like he had been going through hours of torture – and he had. Of course, you had caught him stealing countless glances at you, seen the heat bloom on his cheeks while he undoubtedly replayed last night’s encounter in his mind for hours on end. It must have been agonizing, carrying that boner in his pants all day, but after seeing what you saw today, you failed to understand how it was even possible for him to have one. You found yourself being dryer than a desert, even though the sight of his undeniably ravishing features stirred a small number of somethings in your abdomen.

“Hi” he greeted you shyly, and even though he seemed to fit in this place way better than you, he looked lost in the middle of the room, standing like a misplaced lanky doll with nervous, expectant eyes that someone had forgotten to put away.

“Hey” you replied with a lazy smirk, not bothering to get off the bed to greet him. You wouldn’t have known how to anyway. You also couldn’t find it in your heart to tell him that you weren't in the mood because you were sick to your stomach thanks to this white hellscape where children were being experimented on and punished in inhumane ways.

“I m-missed you” Peter admitted freely, impatiently. “I couldn’t wait for tonight.” When you didn’t reply, he hastily added: “A-a-and I’ve been a g-good boy today, like you asked. I haven’t touched myself once which was not easy, a-and it only made me think of you harder. I like thinking of you.” The man took a hesitant step closer towards the bed where you laid sprawled out quite inertly. Peter didn’t seem to know how to greet you either, but you had a feeling he was sensing that something was off.

“Ah. Very good. I can imagine that was hard. Hah – literally” you laughed dryly and were met by puzzled eyes. God, it was difficult getting in the mood when you still heard the tortured kid’s agonized screaming in your ears.

“A-are you going to reward me?” He asked avidly, sporting the most adorable and hopeful beam on his angel face. Considering how jumpy and hesitant he had been yesterday, he sure was eager now.

“Just like that?” You raised an eyebrow in mimicry of flirty demeanor. “When you haven’t even done anything yet? All you had to do was keep it in your pants.”

“Y-you’re right, I don’t deserve a reward yet. I’m sorry for asking. What do you want me to do?”

You wanted to tell him that you wanted him to go away and leave you alone with today’s horror and misery, but you were positive it would shatter his self-confidence since he would assume it was his inexperience which made you drive him away.

“Nah, you’re good. Listen, I don’t know how to tell you this but please don’t take it the wrong way. I-”

“No, no, no, fuck, please, I messed up, didn’t I? Please give me another chance. I’ll make up for it, I swear!” Peter begged. He actually begged; a grown man whose eyes became teary as if you were threatening to take his biggest treasure away from him.

“That’s not it” you tried to calm the panic in the man’s voice, but something about his utterly crazed, panicky gaze made a sapling of possibly unhealthy arousal grow in your core, latching onto your nervous system parasitically. It was like he was going feral over the promise of making up to you; and you had a rough idea of just what he might be imagining. “Ah, fine, whatever” you sighed defeated. “Come here.” Finally, you sat up in bed properly and reached your hand out for him.

Like a cat leaping at a bowl of milk being filled, Peter practically jumped at you and seized your hand as he knelt down on the bottom end of the mattress full of relieve. “Thank you, thank you” he rasped.

“Don’t thank me. Come here and kiss me.” You firmly grabbed him by the lapels of his white shirt – the same that you were wearing – and pulled him close, gently forcing him to crawl over your body and lower himself on you, making him chase your lips as you sank back down on the pillow. Soon enough, you found yourself caged by his arms on either side of your head. With a soft, yearning gasp, Peter’s lips finally landed on yours, thawing your distress away with clumsy ardor as he kissed you full of passion.

You tangled one hand in his curls, relishing the softness of them in their dried, fluffy state. Not only did he have the face of an angel but the golden hair too. With gentle pressure, you kept his face close (granted, he made no move of backing off), whilst your other hand trailed down his back before switching to the front when you reached his hips. Easily you found his erect member wedged beneath his trousers’ fabric, sitting uncomfortably tight after being so rudely ignored all day. Peter flinched hard when you palmed his length, breathing the most pitiful and aroused gasp into your mouth as he immediately began thrusting against your hand, rutting mindlessly as roaring pleasure beclouded his brain.

“O-o-oh, G-G-God, please. Oh, yes, please, please, please” Peter whimpered heart-wrenchingly.

“Ssshh, sweet boy, don’t whine. It’s alright” you muttered, slowly getting in the mood yourself, finally feeling your center grow warm and mushy as you firmly stroked along his clothed cock, feeling every twitch of his muscles, hearing every pitiful gasp as you kissed his head empty. “Have you been this hard all day? All for me?”

“Yes! God, yes. I-it’s all for you. Only for you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you think of, pretty boy?” A sinful moan escaped his mouth upon the nickname and you took a mental note, confirming his praise kink for good.

“I thought of you naked” Peter admitted without hesitation. “I imagined squeezing and kissing all of your body and then I… I thought of having my face between your thighs while you’re over me, like last night. A-and I also thought of your hand on my-, my… cock, and how you’d make me feel like yesterday. God, please…”

“Aww, poor honey, is your pretty cock hurting? Are you so hard and desperate that you can’t take it any longer?”

Peter nodded vigorously, whining loudly as you palmed along his cock head, knowing it must be leaking pre-cum into his underwear. “I need it, I need you, please!”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to be patient just a tad longer. Can you do that for me, hm?”

“F-fuck, okay. Ah!” He groaned out as you gave his cock a firm squeeze before pulling away, leaving him lonesome and whining.

“Take your shirt off for me” you instructed, giving a little smile and bedroom-eyes. Peter complied momentarily without thinking, as if he were a computer you had fed with a line of code. Tremulous fingers worked along the row of white buttons with haste, making one missed button pop as the man tore the shirt off his body, swiftly followed by the undershirt. Both went flying across the room and Peter was left bare-chested and beautiful above you. For a moment you reveled in the sensual sight that he was; a man of beauty so pure he would have easily passed as a visitor from another star, poorly mimicking human appearance. Real humans such as yourself were flawed and ugly. Peter however was perfect. There was not a single flaw on his delicate skin, not one impurity under his flesh.  

That was until you saw the black blotch on his pale wrist, clearly visible in the bright fluorescent light, now that there was no hot fog obscuring the view. Peter’s beautifully pink cheeks went pale as he followed the gaze of your eyes under furrowed brows.

“Oh... Is that what I think it is?” You commented cautiously, counting one and one together easily. After today’s overwhelm, this reveal was nothing but a drop in the ocean to you.

“I-, I-, you weren't allowed to see that” Peter exclaimed almost panicky and covered up his wrist like that would change anything about it. “Don't tell anyone you saw that, I beg you. No one must know. I... was brought here as a kid and lived as a subject until... They decided I was worthless to them, so, now I'm an orderly. But I’m still a prisoner.”

“So, can you also crush coke cans?” Out of all the considerate things you could have said, this miniscule, indelicate question was the one prodding at your forebrain, sitting there like a fat pigeon outside the window, blocking the view.

“I…” For a second you thought there was a flash of bitter offense and anger glazing over the pure man’s eyes, but it was gone after just a second. “I used to. But not anymore.”

“I see. Well, I guess the fact that you are…” You pointed at the tattoo “explains quite a few things.”

“What things?” He inquired anxiously.

“How it is possible for you to know so little while looking so hot.”

Peter burned up bright red, flustered and ashamed. “I'm so sorry I know so little. You must be thinking I'm pathetic and... stupid. I just never had the opportunity or the interest before I met you.”

“You are not pathetic” you intervened with stern, honest voice. “And I’m so sorry for the life you must have had in here. This is absolutely terrible.”

What you felt was pity, pity, pity. Pity as you imagined him with the electric shock collar around his neck, pity as you realized he had been deprived of a normal, healthy life, just like the children you had watched today. And you knew out of all the motivators to lay someone, pity was possibly the worst. When Peter caught you under the shower and you saw him on the next day, you had expected a quick, heated fling with a handsome man who you assumed had already hooked up with half of the staff. What you got instead was an insecure boy who had never even seen a naked woman before and submissively threw himself at your feet, probably as a result of lingering childhood traumas, probably because he had never known praise and appreciation before.

Sleeping with him now would be a decision of highly morally questionable magnitude, but how could you say no to those big, round eyes; the eyes of a devoted puppy, desperately craving the praise of his master? You would be a monster to deny him, so, when Peter came nearer again, staring at your lips, pink-faced, you didn’t stop him. He was met by no resistance when he grazed your lips with his and pressed you flush against the bed as he lowered himself back on you. Beneath his half-translucent skin laid blue veins, carrying the blood of his fiercely pumping heart, fired by the taste of your lips and your delicate body beneath him as he hungrily deepened the kiss.

It didn’t take long for him to start rutting his clothed hips against your own, meeting your aching center with every sloppy thrust. Not much later, the air in the room seemed to be growing hotter, your underwear wetter and your stifled moans breathier as the friction on your core became positively torturous, sending tingles all the way up your spine and down to your curled toes. You wanted to unwrap Peter’s hard cock like a Christmas present, and he seemed to be thinking the same about yourself.

“I want to have another look” the man greedily demanded after emerging from a breath-catching kiss, sporting a considerably larger amount of confidence today.

“Oh, yeah? Do you want to make me feel good?” You purred with not as much vigor as the day before. Your tone of voice could have easily passed as boredom, but in reality, you were simply dead tired; the only thing keeping you awake was the tension in your lower belly, brought about by the man who hovered above you with juvenile ardor in his shiny eyes.

“Yes, I want to make you feel so fucking good, I will... do anything you want for you.” Peter was absolutely and irreversibly smitten. He had never known a heart could ache like this, but his thorax seemed too tight for the pounding organ as if it had swollen to double its size, and it only seemed to grow more the longer he stared down on you. You however still wore an absent and bitter expression, which deeply unsettled him, and he dearly hoped and prayed that it had nothing to do with him. Whatever it was, he wanted to make it go away, especially if it had anything to do with him. In fact, he thought it must be related to him, because after last night he was sure he must have been on your mind all day long, just like he had been unable to think of anything but you.

Assuming this had to be what you wanted from him, Peter quickly climbed off the bed and dropped on his knees like yesterday when you had allowed him to please you, waiting for you to get up as well and stand before him. He was willing and eager to remain on his knees until his joints were aching and the thin layer of skin between bones and floor was bruised and purple.

“Ahh, look at you” you cooed with visible delight at the sight of the man on his knees. “You look beautiful down there, but I know a better way.” Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, Peter repeated over and over in his spinning head. “Come here, lay on the bed.” Like in a blissful trance, he followed your command and allowed you to guide him down on his back with calm, soft fingertips on his thumping chest.

When you swiftly stood up and discarded your uniform piece by piece, he felt like a meek fly being strung up in the sparkling web of a glorious widow and he would happily let you bite his head off, if you wanted. Your shirt was soon discarded and gone, leaving your chest bare for him to marvel at with blown eyes. Thanks to your nimble hands, your trousers and panties followed quickly. It wasn’t like you were trying to put on a show, but to him, the act of having you undress yourself for him was grander than an opera; grander than the long-forgotten feeling of his powers rushing along his veins.

All four of his limbs were made of lead, tying him helplessly to the cheap mattress which was no more comfortable than his own, and yet he thought this bed of yours must be heaven. Peter was in heaven when you climbed on top of him in all your nude glory, driving the man’s blood into his painfully constricted cock. Smirking, you palmed him over his pants for a moment, paying extra close attention to where the swollen head rested.

“Soon” you commented mischievously when Peter bucked into your hand with a tormented growl on his lips. This brain parasite was eating him alive; His thoughts were raw and wild and urgent and a part of him wanted to just grab you with rough hands and devour you frenziedly in a way he had yet to understand. He felt like he was mere millimeters away from solving this riddle – But perhaps he wouldn’t have to, because you would show him tonight, if he proved himself worthy. And, oh, he would prove himself worthy.

You loomed over him like an epiphany under the bright, white light. Slowly, bearing the grace of a goddess in your movement, you crawled higher, higher, until your knees were on either side of Peter’s head, caging him between your thighs. Yes, yes, yes, he rejoiced internally as your center moved into view, looking wet and inviting and perfect.

“You’ll get to lie down comfortably while I’m going to sit on your face. Is that okay?” You asked sweetly with a tilt of your head, to which he responded with a frenzied nod of his own, nearly breaking his neck from desperate eagerness. “Use your tongue on me, like yesterday. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can do that! I will!” Brimming with anticipation, Peter placed both hands on your hips and gave you the final push which connected your heated center with his mouth. Instantly, his tongue flicked out to lap over your clit and he was rewarded by the most heavenly, sweet moan coming from your mouth. Peter felt like jubilating and crying at once; being graced by these sounds of yours – sounds which were only his doing. His. It wasn’t Carl doing this to you, it was none of his colleagues, it was him who made you squirm so wonderfully, him who made you rock your hips against his face as you chased your high.

Being up close to this intimate, sacred space of yours felt like an absolute privilege bestowed on him; A sign of your grace and trust in him; The proof that you had chosen him. He, a man who has never had a privilege for the past 20 years, cherished this accolade with his whole heart and soul, and he would fight tooth and nail to keep the rights you had granted him, no matter the cost. This intimacy with you was something special and it only belonged to him.

A plethora of tiny noises escaped your parted lips, and when Peter looked up, he saw your eyes were blissfully closed, brows furrowed, but he could also tell you were holding back. So, he clutched your hips tighter and forcefully tugged you down, supporting the rhythm of your hips with the strength of his arms.

“I d-don’t want to crush you” you stammered, trying to back off but you found yourself being stopped by Peter’s unrelenting hands, holding you by the meat of your hips. “A-ah! G-God, Peter…”

“You won’t” he muttered against your hot center, besmearing his chin with your slick as he pulled you back down firmly. “Don’t hold back. I want this” he reassured you urgently before poking his tongue back out and greedily lapping over your clit, setting a firm, quick pace which sent your head reeling.

Inhaling your scent, relishing your heavenly taste on his tongue – This is what he had been dreaming of since you left the shower last night. The torturous wait had been worth it, and he would gladly spend all night squished by your thighs and crushed by the pleasant weight of your body on top of him, provide for your pleasure until you grew tired. Finally, a useful task around the hellhole that was Hawkins Lab; a rewarding task, a beautiful task. One that he would beg to perform on you night after night after night.

One pale hand came up to cup your breasts and squeeze your nipples, whilst the other one remained on your hip, holding you tightly. His reward came in the shape of a series of adorable squeaks and thrusts of your hips which took his breath away. The lack of oxygen only heightened his awareness of the painful throbbing of his constricted cock, but he wouldn’t allow his own needs to come in the way of your pleasure. Peter wholeheartedly declared you his priority, so he devotedly kept working his tongue over your swollen clit, minute after minute.

Meanwhile, your walls were growing tighter, like a spring coiling further and further, bound to snap, if only the pace stayed right, if only you wouldn’t let your head get in the way. ‘What if what I’m going is wrong? How can I even allow myself to relax and feel good in a place like this? Why am I -‘

A particular swipe of Peter’s tongue, meeting all the right nerve ends at just the right angle, momentarily cleared your troubled mind of all thoughts, replacing them with pleasant static, tingling in the very back of your nervous system – An approaching orgasm, all you had to do was not let it slip away.

“Good boy, you're doing so, so good.” You praised the man below you profoundly and you practically felt his chest swell as he absorbed every ounce of it, relishing the fact that he was doing a good job for once, that he was not being yelled at and told he was a disappointment.

“O-oh, yes, oh, fuck, mmmh, just like that” you rambled into the heated room, rocking your cunt against Peter’s wet mouth in a frenzy in chase of your rising climax. Peter hummed in response, sending vibrations through your sensitive flesh which only made you squirm harder, gasp louder.

Your hands came up to clutch the headboard, causing Peter to wrap his own hands firmly around your thighs, keeping you down, keeping your pussy tightly locked against his pleasure-bearing mouth. No matter how hard you writhed, his tongue remained on your clit, eating you out with selfless deference.

“Oh God, Peter, j-jus’ like that, h-hold me tight” you begged, voice coming out strained and broken as your mind became devoid of thoughts and words; everything was swept aside for the approaching crescendo of your climax. The white noise grew louder, muscles tensed as the presence in your core grew and swelled like the thick air before a lightning storm, tingling with electricity which kindled your nerves until you could hardly bear it any longer.

And one flick of Peter’s tongue later, you collapsed like heavy rainfall and thunder, climaxed with an intensity that made your head loll back and your body grow limp as you were hit by wave after wave of pleasure, trailed by countless cries and groans, most containing Peter’s name and mindless, blissed-out nonsense. Throughout, you were always kept in place by Peter’s zealous hands until your moans grew quiet and he had lapped up every last drop of your flowing essence.

Only then he released you from his firm grasp and let you scoot back where you took a seat on his thumping chest without resting your full weight on him. “Was that okay?” He inquired with praise-seeking eyes, glowing bright and happy. There was still wetness of yours all over his chin and cheeks, and the sight alone was enough to make you burn up.

“That was incredible. Thank you so much. I hope I really didn’t crush you.”

“You didn’t!” Peter exclaimed emphatically, fixating your eyes. You noticed him squirm beneath you, probably unintentionally, but the pressure in his pants must be close to unbearable by now.

Now that you were slowly cooling off from your high, your voice of reason was shyly raising its index finger, poking you in the head to scold you. ‘Don’t fuck out of pity’ the reproachful voice reminded you. ‘Don’t ruin an innocent man, don’t break his heart! You want to get out of here as fast as possible, remember? There’s no future for you and him, he’s stuck here.’ But was it truly pity when your body screamed for him? When your lower belly churned with newly born butterflies at the sight of Peter’s hopeful, obedient eyes?

“I… think you deserved your reward now” you smiled suggestively and chained the voice of reason to a distant place in the back of your mind.

“Oh, r-r-really?” Peter’s whole face brimmed with both relief and bone-wrecking anxiety.

“Yes, absolutely. You made me feel good, now allow me to make you feel good as well. You deserve it.”

‘I deserve it, I deserve it’ Peter rejoiced mentally, disbelieving when the goddess above him finally moved down to where his most sensitive body part lied hard and concealed beneath the fabric of his pants which had tortured him all day. Mindless thank you’s tumbled past his lips when you made quick work of his belt without further teasing, for which he was grateful because any more waiting would have doubtlessly made him snap.

Just a moment later, you had undressed the man’s lower half with quick hands and his cock was freed, resting heavily on his flat stomach, the whole length of it standing out red – almost purple – against his fair skin, veins curling like thick snakes around it and there already was cum leaking from the tip, glossy and white. He had never seen himself like that. Swollen and even discolored from the rush of blood, yes, but never like that, never to this extend. You had done that to him, must have known just what you were doing when you forbade him to touch himself, and he found himself deeply admiring your knowledge, because it meant you could teach him everything there was to know about torment and pleasure, who seemed to be related by blood.

A broken moan made its way past his lips when you finally wrapped your deft fingers around the base of his cock, stroking him so agonizingly softly that small flashes of lightning traveled along his nerves, setting everything on fire and he was positive he would come undone from this tender caress alone, but his hips bucked impatiently in desperate search for more, more, more.

And then, you did something wondrous. Your firmly grabbed his cock and moved above him, hovering over his hips with one knee on either side of his body. When you aligned the head of Peter’s cock with your still slick center, a delightful shudder ran through his body, causing his member to twitch in your hand and for some reason he found himself wanting to push, up and inside you.

“First of all, I’m on birth control, so we don’t have to worry about that, alright?” Peter nodded dumbly, believing whatever you said. “And second of all, you're probably going to cum fast, but don't worry about it. That's perfectly alright.”

“N-no, wait” Peter meekly tried to stop you. “I don't want to cum fast. You're going to make me leave once I'm done, aren't you?”

“Well, you can stay a little while longer, if you want. But we do have a long day of... work... ahead.” Before Peter could protest, you probed: “Well, are you ready? Do you want this?”

“I’m ready, I w-want this so bad, I want you – ahhh, fuck!”

Suddenly, you were no longer over him, you were around him. He was met by hot, slick, spongey resistance but not enough to halt the movement of his sliding cock, slipping deeper and deeper inside you as you lowered your hips with a concoction of pain and pleasure on your face. Like fire meets gasoline, Peter’s nerve ends were flaring up violently, shooting frenzied signals of triumph and jubilation through his system. He never wanted this sensation to come to an end, wanted to revel in eternal bliss with you around him.

Oh, he realized. Now, everything made sense – the urge to somehow be inside you. Just how did he never think of that? Why did the idea that there had to be a proper counterpart to his never cross his mind? However, it was hard to imagine that all of him somehow fit inside of you (On the other hand, you felt tight, so you must be stuffed to the brim with his cock and he couldn’t help but yearn to know what it felt like for you.)

“Am I not h-hurting y-you? Ahh, God, f-fuck, that feels good.”

“You’re not hurting me, pretty honey, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I want you to feel good.” And then you started bouncing, which was the precise point of time when Peter’s brain was ultimately rendered into malfunctioning mush.

“I f-feel perfect. Y-you make me feel -ah- perfect! Ah, please!”

He was helplessly tied up in your ropes, unable to move or resist (not like he ever wanted to) as you vigorously bounced on his lap, swallowing his cock whole upon every return.

Peter dearly hoped this was as spectacular to you as it was to him, but from the way your lips were parted, brows furrowed and eyes hooded, he concluded he had found another way to provide for your pleasure. A wicked idea crossed his mind and it cost all his concentration and will power to move his hands up to your hips where he wrapped one around your thigh and pressed the pad of his other hand’s thumb to your clit, remembering your hushed words of yesterday (“You can either rub it with your fingertips or you can... Lick it, if you want to. It'll make me feel good”). Peter wanted to make you feel good with all his body parts, give you everything he had.

He was thrilled to hear a blissful whine escape your mouth and he drowned in your eyes as you stared down on him with a grimace of lust and pleasure on your face. As if you had only been waiting for him to make a move on you, you picked up the pace (perhaps for revenge) and slammed yourself down on Peter’s cock, splitting yourself open. The obscene sound of skin smacking skin filled the air and Peter tried, he really tried to meet the rhythm of your bouncing hips, tried to please you simultaneously, but when he rubbed over your nub and suddenly you clenched around him in response, he almost lost it.

“Oh God, I think I’m g-gonna…” Panicky, stammered words tumbled over his lips as the pressure in his lower belly was building rapidly, dangerously.

It was like you said, he was going to cum fast with no way to contain himself – And how could he ever, when you looked so ravishing on top of him, engulfing him wholly, so utterly tight, hot and wet that his brain skidded into overdrive. There went his plans on devouring you roughly and making love to you all night long, now that he had finally understood which options he had.

“Ssshh, it’s okay, darling. Cum inside me” you curred, wearing a lascivious smile which drew Peter’s will of resistance right out of his overwhelmed mind. You had enchanted him like a sea witch, so he followed your command, like he never had a choice.

“Oh, please, please, a-ah, G-God, please, AH!” He wanted to scream out ‘I love you, I love you’, yell into the void for the whole universe to hear of his joy, but both his voice and thoughts perished when his climax came upon him, swallowing the world around him except for you and the bliss you brought him. The pleasure in his core spilled over, washing over his brain like a frenzied deluge as he shot hot ropes of semen into your tight, wet center.

It felt like his own brain was being fried as your walls milked him empty, with never faltering thrusts of your hips. Peter’s head was high up in the clouds, floating among imaginary angels with flapping wings until his orbs turned glossy and he stared you in the eyes with blurry gaze, drunk on whatever this feeling was.

Finally, when you were sure that Peter had fully ridden out his high, you stopped moving and rested comfortably on his lap, keeping him buried inside you for the moment. Your fingers trailed softly over his smooth chest, connecting birth marks and little scars with imaginary line as you mused, trying to make sense of your own feelings, searching for anything to say.

“By the way, that rule I made up yesterday, you know, the one of you not touching yourself, that no longer applies” you declared with a smile which you hoped looked casual enough. There was no way you could keep commanding him around in good conscience, not when he had spent all his life having no choice. Peter however seemed perplexed.

“O-oh, but I-, I actually enjoyed that. I like it better when you touch me. What we did tonight i-i-is better than anything I've ever done myself, I-. Th-thank you for tonight. Can we do this again tomorrow, please?”

Tonight had been a big mistake. You never should have toyed with the feelings of a vulnerable, traumatized man who had now latched onto your affection like a leech. You needed to find a way to wrench yourself out of this unbalanced fling before anyone’s heart got seriously broken, deeply regretting this power dynamic you had involuntarily slithered into.

“Let's see how tired we are tomorrow night, hm?” You vaguely suggested with a nervous smile and immediately registered how Peter's previously rosy cheeks grew pale and his eyes wide as if he was witnessing withdrawal symptoms from just the thought of not having you the next day.

You had corrupted him, Peter realized. In the same instance, a wave of possessiveness and anger at himself for daring to think so negatively about you washed over him. You had shown him wonderful, incredible things and there was nothing he wanted more than to cherish and ensure these feelings you gave him. With you, he felt like he was finally fully awake and he wanted to feel like this for the rest of his life.

Peter, who hated humans, had become utterly obsessed with you, and all it had taken was one glance at your naked body, which was something his former self would have undoubtedly loathed him for, but fighting against the warm, flittering feeling in his chest felt absolutely unnatural. Impossible even.

“F-f-fuck, you're beautiful. What are you doing to me?” He rasped, questioning his sanity. “What have you d-done to me, I can't think straight. I've never felt like this before.”

“Poor boy. I haven't done anything.” You smiled sadly, having an utterly terrible, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this man who has never had a sexual relationship before – not even a crush – might have already fallen in love with you over something as silly (you almost wanted to call it meaningless) as intercourse, without even knowing a thing about you except what your body looked like.

“But don't you feel the s-same?” Peter inquired full of panic.

“Hm. I might” you answered evasively.

That answer was nowhere near enough for Peter. He swore to double and triple his efforts to bestow the biggest amount of pleasure you had ever felt on you, to fully bind you to him. He was convinced there was no way for him to keep existing, should you decide to drop him and come to the conclusion that he wasn't good enough for you. Breaking out of the Lab meant nothing if he couldn't have you, so he had to make you his.

He would make you his and take you with him, after he had slaughtered everyone else at Hawkins Lab.

You, he would spare. You, the only human who deserved to live by his side. You, the only human he wanted to make happy.

So, he gently lifted you off his lap and laid you on your back, making sure your head was on the pillow before he zealously moved between your thighs where his cum was leaking from your entrance, ready and willing to please you as often as necessary to make you love him, because he was pretty sure the fuzzy feeling in his chest was called love.

After all, no one had ever told him what it feels like.

Chapter Text

This day was cold in the kingdom, and the broken roads were covered with snow. Smoke came from the chimneys of crumbling houses and people in ragged coats shuffled along the sidewalk, most carrying baskets or buckets to get water and bread, some leading a horse or a pack mule.  It was an almost perfect parody of a medieval town.

Your gaze traveled skywards, following the disintegrating powerlines above which were occupied by an occasional bird or a bat-like thing. Electricity worked sometimes, but most of the time it didn’t. So, you knew you had another cold winter ahead.

This planet once was a world of dignity and grace, but not anymore. You yourself still remembered it faintly, but life before the collapse seemed like a lifetime ago. When reality had been shattered and the world had been flooded with bands of monsters from the red dimension, millions had died, possibly billions.

You and your family were some of the lucky ones, ironically, because you lived in what once was the eye of the storm. The town of New Hawkins was the only intact place in a thousand-mile radius, surrounded by havocked land and old battlefields, still littered with the bones of millions, a horn of plenty for the straying packs of otherworldly monsters. Sometimes, you heard their chippering and trilling in the distance, carried over by cold winds when the night was black and comfortless.

The townsfolk said New Hawkins was under The Emperor’s protective spell, and it was true. After all, the creatures were untamable and yet they obeyed to His command ever since he and them had emerged from the other side. Folk believed this place on earth to be sacred, because He had chosen this town to build His castle – the center of the new world. 

There were rumors, countless rumors about the man in the high castle, looming over New Hawkins with sky-high pinnacles and gothic towers cut out of cold stone and sharp slate, like a vision from a twisted fairy tale, casting shadows on the townspeople who lived in poverty in its periphery.

There was a downright cult going on, one of terror and fear, but also of intrigue and delusional fascination with the elusive, self-proclaimed Emperor of the world. Throughout the centuries, power had always attracted people, but you knew mania wouldn’t save you or your family from starving, so, you always turned a blind eye to the gossiping women on the market place, spinning conspiracy theories, one crazier than the next.

On the other hand, it was hard to deny that people kept disappearing. However, you didn’t believe the rumors of them being abducted to be slaves and serve The Emperor. Nor did you believe the rumors of ritual sacrifices, cannibalism, sex orgies and all the other absurdities that the blabbermouths liked constructing to infuse their own miserable lives with a tad of excitement.

Basket in hand, clutching your patched-up coat tightly, you made your way down the street. Today, it was your turn to get bread from the bakery, but the small number of coins in your coat pocket barely added any weight to the garment. Winter would be cold and hungry.

Even though the way was much longer and your feet would be cold by the end of it, you preferred Isaac’s little bakery at town’s edge over the well-frequented midtown one. Isaac’s prices were lower because the superstitious folk didn’t like venturing close to the woods which loomed higher and darker the further you strayed away from city center.

Unfortunately, even that didn’t save you from the blabbermouths. A group of three red-cheeked women loitered on the road, chatting excitedly.

“I’ve heard He is ageless and timeless!”

“Well, I have heard, he simply stopped aging.”

“How convenient.”

“But there’s a catch. The travel between dimensions has made him infertile…”

“Oh, you just made that up!”

“My aunt says He is a transcendent being from a distant star.”

“From a star?”

“That’s ridiculous. He is human, but chosen by the gods.”

“Watch out what you’re saying! This is blasphemy. He is the only God there is and He has come down to earth to protect us by his merciful hand.”

“Merciful? Your sister went missing just last month.”

“I’m sure she’s… fine.”

Shaking your head, you hurried past the gossiping trio and rounded the last corner where the crooked little bakery came into view. That woman’s sister had probably gotten lost in the woods and broken her ankle or something, like all the other ones that had gone missing throughout the months...

A shiver ran down your spine when you heard a chippering sound from somewhere in the distance. You certainly had no interest in testing your luck today, so you quickly approached the bakery and pushed the door open, hearing the usual jingle of the small bell above.

“Oh, hello!” Surprised, you froze in your tracks and greeted the blond young man behind the counter whom you had never encountered before. You didn’t mean to sound overly dramatic, but he was the most stunning man you had ever seen around town. He stood tall, his back straight, blue eyes trained directly on you as if there was not a thing that could divert his attention from you.

“Hello. How may I… assist you?” The question came with a tilt of the man’s head, causing a blond curl to fall out of place, hanging loosely over his forehead. Something about him looked… off.

“I, uh, I’ve just come to pick up the usual” you explained, gulping down the welling nervousness. “Where’s Isaac?” The man before you could impossibly be Isaac’s kid or grandkid. The old man loved to chat; he would have told you about an offspring.

“I’m a neighbor.” The stranger smiled nonchalantly, eyes boring deeply into yours, not matching the smile. “He couldn’t come in today, so I offered a helping hand. So, what can I get you, hm?”

“O-oh, well, that makes half a loaf, two rolls a-and a small pack of pumpernickel, please.” You found yourself stammering and your cheeks warming, which wasn’t like you at all, and clutched the coins in your coat pocket tightly, mostly to keep your hand busy.

“As you wish.” The man winked (he winked!) and leisurely got to work, taking all the time in the world to collect the items which normally wouldn’t even take 10 seconds to gather. Meanwhile, you finally unfroze from your faraway spot on the doormat and moved in front of the counter, standing like a proper customer and put the appropriate number of coins on the small tray. Unobtrusively, you followed every of the man’s movements. Somehow, he made a task as trivial as taking a loaf of bread from the shelf look effortlessly graceful.

“So, what do you think?” Smiling mysteriously, he suddenly pointed upwards. Confused, you followed his motion only to find the bare ceiling above.

“Think about what?”

“The castle, of course. The Emperor. Everyone seems to have an opinion about Him.” Without haste, the man sauntered back behind the counter.

“Oh, that’s true, they do. But I don’t.”

“Aren’t you just a tad curious?” Disbelieving he cocked his head, raising one eyebrow.

“No, I’m not.”

“But don’t they say with knowledge comes power?” He leaned slightly over the counter, wearing an almost conspiratorial smirk, one that looked inviting and made your feet inch closer towards him, until you snapped some sense back into yourself.

“Listen, no matter the amount of knowledge, I don’t think I would ever be able to overpower whoever is living in the castle. So, I’d rather stay under the radar.” As you stared the man up and down with furrowed brows, you finally noticed what looked so off about him. He was too clean. Why was there no flour on his apron, no fatty handprints on the fabric, not a speckle of grime on his pale skin? Even his hair seemed perfectly clean, freshly-washed, coiffed.

“What makes you think you’re not on The Emperor’s radar already?”

“I never did anything to draw anyone’s attention on me. I keep my mouth shut. I don’t meddle.” You didn’t mind a little bit of small talk, but whatever this odd conversation was, it began to feel like an interrogation.

“Don’t you think He sees and hears everything and everyone?” The man probed further, carrying a tinge of uncomfortable eagerness behind his otherwise pleasant voice.

“I’m sure ‘he’ can do a lot, but he’s not a god.” You shrugged your shoulders and finally grabbed the bread and rolls from the counter and put them in your basket. “I have to go now. Have a nice day.”

You left the baffled man behind and turned for the door, eager to leave and tell your family about this odd encounter, wondering if any of them would know this odd baker.

However, in the very moment your hand came to rest on the door knob, stinging pain sliced the pad of your thumb open, causing thick droplets of blood to pour immediately. Hissing, you flinched backwards and stumbled over your own feet, landing on your ass. Pulling a grimace, you clutched your wrist and stared at the fresh and fairly deep wound with shock.

“Oh, dear! Are you alright?” The alarmed man hurried to your side, kneeling down next to you to inspect the cut. “You must have drawn a splinter. I’m so sorry. Here, let me take care of that.”

Swiftly, he jumped to his feet, scurried to the back of the shop and returned mere seconds later. Your surprise couldn’t possibly grow any bigger when suddenly he revealed a ball of gauze - clean, white linen of perfect quality. How on earth did he get his hands on that?! He, a simple baker, poor like all of town? It must have cost a fortune and he was willing to use it on you, a poor sorry thing who was currently bleeding all over the carpet.

Your suspicious eyes, however, were blown wide when his pale fingers brushed over your hand to wrap the linen around your injured thumb, his skin being cold but soft, his touch hesitant but gentle. The brief caress made a pleasant tremor run along your spine, accompanied by a long-forgotten rush of butterfly wings within your belly.

“What makes you think he is not a god?”

“E-e-excuse me?” Flabbergasted, you looked up to meet his curious blue gaze, much closer to your face than you expected. He smiled upon the sight of your puzzled expression.

“You said you don’t believe The Emperor is a god. Why?” Leisurely, he wrapped more layers of gauze around your bleeding digit, and you tried to hide the hitching of your breath whenever the man’s cool skin made contact with yours.

“Th-there’s not much proof for any god in a world like this. I mean, have you looked around?” To that, he didn’t reply for a while and tied the loose ends of the bandage into a little knot.

“Hm” he finally commented. Even though the gauze was now all wrapped around and fastened, he didn’t release your hand yet. Instead, his thumb brushed lazy circles over yours – A gesture which definitely wasn’t necessary to mend your wound. The gentle touch drove blood into your cheeks, tinting them rosy and warm while your heart clenched unfamiliarly, nervously.

“You also pronounced ‘he’ quite oddly when you spoke about Him… Why?”

You struggled for words, your mind a confused flurry from the strangeness of the conversation and his distracting caress on your hand. “I think I… don’t necessarily think of ‘him’ as a he?”

“Do you think of Him as a she?” Surprised, the man raised one eyebrow.

“I was more thinking of an it” you admitted and were met with a hint of hardness on the appealing shape of the baker’s face. Now that his brows were drawn together, there seemed to be a shadow on his eyes, rendering the irises a dark dark shade of blue.

“What makes you think so?” He inquired, and you found it impossible not to answer.

“I j-just don’t think any human is capable of such things, a-and whatever being he – it – is, its gender really is the last of my interests.”

“I think He prefers he.”

“O-okay, fine. Please, I… I really should go now. My family is waiting for me.” Why were you begging him – an ordinary baker – to let you go home?! You should just get up and go.

“Of course. I’m sorry for stealing so much of your time.” His grave expression melted into something much softer, casting your worry away as another beat of excitement tugged on your heartstrings. Gallantly, he held his hand out to you and helped you up, leading you over to the door.

How odd. There was not a trace of your blood on the door knob, nor a splinter in sight which might have caused such a weeping wound. Swiftly, the man moved around you, thereby breaking the line of sight and interrupting your thoughts. Chivalrously, he opened the door and held it open for you, making a polite gesture with his hand.

“I am Peter, by the way. I hope to see you again” he declared with a sweet, irresistible smile on his full lips.

“I-, I come by several times a week, s-so perhaps there will be another opportunity.”

The door snapped shut behind your back as you stepped outside, smiling stupidly to yourself. Peter sure seemed a little obsessed with the man in the castle (Wasn’t all townsfolk obsessed?), but he was also incredibly cute. And he had used the expensive gauze on you. The wind was cold on your rosy cheeks.

However, when your hand traveled to your coat pocket, your eyes grew wide with shock when you felt the exact same weight of coins as before resting there. You had definitely put them on the counter, or hadn’t you?!

“Oh, shit” you cursed and darted back for the door, only to find it locked. “Hey!” You shouted, knocking on the glass. “I think I forgot to pay you. Please, open up!”

But the shop behind the window laid dark and dormant, even the shelves seemed empty. And Peter was nowhere to be seen.

-

The odd yet sweet encounter with the baker named Peter was soon to be pushed to the very back of your mind.

When you returned home, you set the baked goods down in the kitchen where they would remain until it was time for dinner. Having breakfast was a luxury that was not given to you, nor to your family members, most of whom were currently out for work. Today, you had been given the ungrateful task of doing laundry, which grew especially torturous now that the rivers were almost freezing cold.

However, when you entered your bed room, doing laundry suddenly became the least of your problems.

There was a letter on your pillow, placed neatly and perfectly centered, sealed by a royal red wax seal. Every fiber of you screamed danger, urging you to flee by pumping blood rapidly through your system, but you picked the letter up regardless, breaking the seal with tremoring hands to reveal a single sheet of paper.

Come to the well behind the castle.    

- H.

Your heart hammered with fear, already knowing who must have written this, but your stubborn mind was caught in a state of denial. This had to be a tasteless joke. And who was “H.” anyway? If it came from the emperor, surely, he would have placed an appropriate signature.

Lost in spinning thoughts, you ran the paper through your fingers, marveling at the fine quality and the dark red ink, the perfectly curved letters. Shily, you brought the letter closer to your nose, terrified to discover that the paper even smelled good. You found your senses intoxicated by a waft of rich, expensive perfume. It smelled very good. Enticingly good. Deliriously good. With a sigh, your eyelids fluttered shut for a second, imagining regal rooms, regal bedrooms.

Perhaps some of the rumors were true.

Horrified, you tore your eyes back open and returned to reality, roughly stuffing the letter in your pocket. You would not set a single toe anywhere near this castle of nightmares. No one would ever know you had received this letter. If he (it?) wanted to get you, he would have to take you by force.

When you stepped outside, carrying a mountain of laundry, you drowned the letter in the icy river, along with the fine gauze.

-

The punishment to your ignorance came around dawn of the next day.

When you returned to your bedroom to lay yourself to rest, there was another letter on your pillow, placed with the same accuracy as the one before. Panicky, you darted for it, already feeling the urge to cry well up in your throat, and broke the wax seal in half. Again, there was a single sheet of paper, but adorned with more words of the same cursive hand-writing.

Come to the well behind the castle, now.
It is time for your suffering to end.
Don’t resist your calling.
Be grateful for the gift you are being given.
- Your Emperor

The information settled within your brain in the wrong order. ‘Your Emperor’, that’s what the letter clearly said. Two simple words, combined to form a phrase that made your heart clench for all the wrong reasons, amplified by the waft of cologne which ascended from the paper, nestling your mind in a hazy cloud.

Were you really this easy to corrupt? Just a day and a half ago, you hadn’t believed, had walled yourself off from the rumors, the gossiping, the fantasizing. Now, it seemed like the mere promise of abundance, coming in the form of finest paper, ink and perfume, rendered you weak, made you daydream about the gift of a better life.

Alarmed, you shook your head to force some sense back into yourself and glued your eyes on the words. ‘It is time for your suffering to end’. Could you get any more stupid, thinking this could possibly mean a positive thing? That the emperor would kindly pick out random people to save them from their poverty? Undoubtedly, this letter was a promise of death, and you refused to accept your fate just like that.

With tears wobbling on your waterline, you stormed into the living room to show this cursed letter to your family, but in the very moment you entered, you were no longer clutching paper, you were clutching air. Under the puzzled eyes of your relatives, you looked around, scanned the floor, wearing a crazed expression when you found nothing.

Stammering an excuse, you ran back to your room, finding nothing there either and broke down on the bed, crying. The only proof that you were not going insane had magically dissolved into thin air. Perhaps you should go searching for that woman whose sister had gone missing, ask her if there had been a letter as well. Then again, going out there seemed like a death warrant. Perhaps you should shackle yourself to the furniture instead.

You would not set a foot outside, not go anywhere near the castle, not in a million fucking-

There was something in the room with you.

You couldn’t tell who it was, what it was, if it was a thing or a person. All you felt was a presence engulfing you wholly, filling you with nausea and terror as reality seemed to be disintegrating like a spinning kaleidoscope. Flashes of color and not-color flared behind your closed eyelids as you fell over yourself and into space and time, accompanied by a painful trilling sound which rang from wall to wall inside your skull.

And then – It was over and your face was met by cold winter winds.

Disoriented, your eyes flew from the muddy ground beneath your feet to the looming structure above, blocking out the very last remnants of a foggy sunset. Before you towered the gigantic castle, thick walls of cold, grey stone, repelling you as if the bricks themselves were radiating invisible horrors.

High up in the clouds, and yet not far enough away, horrific bats were flying over the castle’s pointed pinnacles, chasing and biting each other with terrifying shrieks.

A sudden warped sound, followed by vicious coughing drew your attention to your right. With shock in your eyes, you saw the last flickering rims of a dark red tunnel collapsing into nothingness, leaving behind a blond man dressed up in plain, brown clothes, not unlike to yours. He seemed just as disorientated and frightened as you.

“P-Peter, is that really you?!” You stammered, hasting past the stone well to greet him.

“O-Oh, hey.” He needed a moment to regain his sense of orientation, but then trained his blue eyes on you, like in the bakery.

“Did you receive a letter as well?”

Nodding, he reached inside his coat pocket, his fingers surprisingly calm, and revealed an envelope looking just like yours, carrying a prominent red wax seal. “Yes.”

“What should we do now?!” Anxiously, you ogled your surroundings, spotting the small archway in the castle wall, sporting an opened door of uninvitingly dark wooden timbers. The insides were pitch-black, oozing chilliness which was even colder than descending winter night.

“We should go inside, shouldn’t we?”

“Are you out of your mind?” You snapped at Peter who looked at you with pensive eyes. How could he be so carefree?

“I don’t think we have a choice. If He was able to bring us here, He can take us anywhere He wants.”

“Then I’d rather wait for him to do it. I’m not going to set one foot inside that castle on my own free will, not as long as I have life inside my body and air inside my lungs!”

“Don’t be silly.” Peter brushed your resistance off like it was nothing.

“So, you just want us to give up?” Flabbergasted, you stared up at him, bearing frenzied determination in your eyes.

“I want you to be smart.” Peter bent down a little, searching your gaze beseechingly.

“Hurling ourselves right inside the gates of hell is the opposite of smart. Have you forgotten that none of the vanished people have ever come back?! They were our neighbors and friends.”

“Perhaps they’re having a better life now.”

“You are insane.” Furiously, you turned away from him, ready to hit the road.

But before your raised foot could sink back to the ground, a force struck your chest, wrapping around you and yanking you backwards with staggering severity. You lost contact to the ground entirely, flying through the air and towards the open archway with a horrified scream. Meanwhile, your eyes were trained on Peter, helplessly reaching out for him as you were being catapulted out of reach.

With horror, you registered that he was being attacked as well. A force yanked him backwards and into the well, where he vanished with a stifled scream.

Your back hit the stony ground, forcing all air out of your lungs as the door slammed shut, confining you within the darkness of the castle walls. Despite the roaring pain all over your body, you jumped to your feet, panicky banging on the wood, rattling on the locked doorknob in vain.

“PETER! PETER! HELP, ANYONE? PLEASE!”

Could Peter even survive such a fall? Was there any water in the well? Your worried voice faded into breathless whimpers when benumbing realization washed over you – no one would open up this door for you. The only possible way out led deeper inside. Trembling, you slowly turned on your heel, taking in the gaping darkness before you.

Conveniently, there was one single torch lit on the muddy stone wall, casting eerie flickering light which sparsely illuminated a small part of the corridor. Shivering, you wrapped your hand around it and detached it from its wall mount, holding it in front of you like a weapon.

You were in the castle’s very basement and the chilly air around you was suffocatingly still and heavy like a deadly blanket. The utter silence down here roared loudly in your ears, making you hyper aware of even the smallest cracks and rustles in the distance.

The throbs of your panicked heart made your body tremor as you carefully made your way down the black corridor, your feet horribly loud on the floor. You tiptoed past heavy wooden doors, not wanting to know what or who they contained. One door however stood wide open and you caught a glance of rows of barrels, resting on tall shelves, perhaps containing ripening wine or worse things.

Eventually, the corridor branched and you picked a direction at random, sneaking on for endlessly long minutes, taking more turns in this maze of darkness and stone. You almost screamed out loud when suddenly something touched your face, ice-cold on your skin, giving a metallic jangle as you jumped away. Shackles. There were rusty shackles dangling from the ceiling.

Breathing hard and fast, you hurried on, picked up the pace and realized that there were bars of iron to your left and right, coming at regular intervals. This was a dungeon. You made the mistake of peeking in one of the prison cells, only to see an old, dried stain on the floor, right before a bench-like instrument of torture, sporting metal spikes the length of an adult’s forearm.

A painful sob was wedged in your throat, and the shadows cast by your flickering torch suddenly had the looks of monstrous claws, seeking to bore into your flesh. You hasted on, walking as fast as possible while still remaining quiet. There was not a moment when you didn’t think there was something breathing down your neck, demons lurking in the shadows, eyeballing you, making you pick up the speed as you fled from hidden horrors.

Eventually, you started running and let the tears stream freely. You took corners at random, sprinting past cell doors with broken bars, looking as if something monstrous from the inside had violently bent them outwards to burst free. It felt like there were hundreds of feet (paws, hooves, talons) coming after you, a horde of monsters on your heel as you ran and cried and panted, chased by the distorted echo of your own boots.

Finally, a silver lining came up on the horizon and your heart leaped with joy when you spotted the faint glow in the distance – a stairwell! Wheezing, you staggered up the slim, wooden steps, darting for the light at the end of it as if your life depended on it. You threw your whole weight against the door which was only ajar, easily bursting through it, and stumbled when your feet unexpectedly hit fluffy carpet.

“Whoa, careful there! Oh my God, it’s you. Are you alright?” You found yourself being caught by a pair of arms, keeping you upright. Shaking and panting horribly, your head flew up to see whoever had come to your rescue so unexpectedly.

“Peter?” Your jaw fell open, then closed again as you blinked furiously, standing on the brink of either manic laughter or crying. There was a worm inside your skull, squiggling and squishing itself in places that caused your thinking to go slowly. Being completely beside yourself, you clung to Peter’s jacket like a drowning person, staring up at his beautiful face, terror-stricken.

“Yes, it’s me. Thank God you’re safe.”

“You f-fell into the well! The-, the d-door was locked a-a-and I was a-all alone in the b-basement and there was a-, I saw a-, there was something down there with me. M-My torch, where i-is my t-torch. I had one…”

“Ssssh, it’s alright.” Soothingly, Peter pulled you close, caressed the back of your head as you weakly sobbed into his shirt. “I’m so glad I found you again. I was sick with worry.”

“A-Are you hurt? How did you get in here?”

“Just a little bruised up, but don’t worry. The fall was rather short, no water either. I think I stumbled upon an old supply shaft or something. It led me inside the castle.”

Sniveling, you finally emerged from the soothing embrace, wondering why on earth Peter was not a trembling mess like you were. The skin around his pretty eyes crinkled lightly as he gave you a reassuring smile, brushing a strand of tear-stained hair out of your face.

“Let’s do some exploring, hm?” Peter proposed and fully released you from his grasp, turning around to eyeball the countless doors that branched off the warmly illuminated corridor. “Perhaps we can find the main hall.”

“O-okay, yes. Good idea. Oh, wait a second. There’s my torch!” Surprised, you noticed that it was lying right on the carpet, flame extinguished, but maybe you would need it again. You took your eyes off Peter for a moment, bending down to pick up the torch, and when you straightened upright again, he was – gone?!

“Peter???” You shrieked into the utterly empty hallway, where you were met with nothing but the faint flickering of lit candles in golden chambersticks.

Fueled by panic, you darted for the nearest door and yanked it open, but there was no Peter inside. Under different circumstances, you might have marveled at the rococo style furniture, the heavy, scarlet drapes, flowing from the stucco ceiling to the oakwood floorboard or the filigree chandelier above, but in the face of a nervous breakdown, none of the intricate beauty caught your eye.

You stormed back into the hallway and yanked the next door open, and the ones after that. Door by door, you scoured the rooms, finding them deserted except for the pompous furniture which seemed to be staring back at you.

Every room, every hall, even the smallest of chamber was a work of art of stunning craftmanship. There were tall, white walls, painted with overwhelming abundance of golden ornaments, burgundy rugs on dark cherry floor boards, ostentatious shelves filled with more books than a person could read in their life, curved sofas and plush pillows, covered with carmine red velvet, inviting you to rest on them. You gladly would have, if not for the horror in your chest.  

You raced past tall vases of dried flowers and pier tables of white wood and marble, occasionally stopping to rattle on one of the tall windows, finding all of them firmly locked but very much breakable. To your horror, however, you were much further up in the castle than you had expected, making a jump out of the window a deadly endeavor.

When you pushed a large set of pearl white double doors open, your heart was tremoring like the strings of a fiddle being played by a sadistic violinist. Wooden floorboards made room for black and white tiles, laid out in a checkered pattern. Before you laid the main hall of the castle, illuminated by the most intricate chandelier your eyes had ever seen, reflecting warm light all across the marvelous interior.

A sudden sound caught your attention, making your head whip around.

There was a human figure descending down the mahogany stairwell, one pale hand elegantly resting on the banister. One glance at the person’s blond, coiffed curls made you realize it was Peter, but he looked different.

He had changed his plain, brown clothes for a powder white suit and ruffled shirt, sewn of the most luxurious thread, adorned with delicate chains of gold. His regal looks, however, weren’t the strangest thing about him. There was an aura of superiority, enveloping him like a physical cloud, making the hair in the nape of your neck stand tall and your knees grow week.

“P-Peter? Wh-where did you come from now? What a-are these clothes?” The worm in your sluggish brain was fat and heavy, ready to burst.

The smile that Peter cast upon you now was not so reassuring anymore. It had a touch of condescending humor, as if he pitied you for not knowing a secret.

“I told you before, I want you to be smart. So, be smart!” He smiled coldly, fiendishly, and his voice was sharp and bright like the crystals on the chandelier.

You stood open-eyed, horrified, and it took four strikes of the tall clock in the background for you to piece the dreadful puzzle together.

“Y-you are…Him. H-How did you do this?” What you were really thinking was: Why hadn’t you been able to look past the façade of Peter the kind baker with the coiffed hair and rare gauze, appearing and disappearing magically on multiple occasions, carrying a letter with an unbroken wax seal? A part of you was still refusing to accept that someone as beautiful as him could be of such malicious nature.

“You’re asking the wrong questions, darling.” Still smiling, The Emperor descended down the wide stairwell, coming to a rest two steps before you, where he towered even higher than he did with just his body height.

“Is this body of yours… The body I’m seeing… Is it just a trick?” You were trembling in your ragged boots, drowning in a concoction of fear, humiliation and betrayal.

“I told you to be smart, not to insult me. I don’t do tricks. I do greatness. I can be whatever I want to be. I am everything you see. Who do you think built this castle?” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, pointing at the abundance of beauty.

“I don’t know. I don’t… remember.” An uneasy feeling settled deep within your guts, as if everything you knew was a lie. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t. You’re just a little human after all, but such a sweet one. And so adorably defiant. Actually, I have a gift for you.”

“I don’t want it.” Tasting nothing but the bitterness of treason on your tongue, you shook your head.

“I haven’t even told you what it is.” The Emperor cocked his head, still clearly amused by your demeanor.

“I don’t want it, no matter what it is!”

“So defiant.” He chuckled darkly and reached for your hand, cold fingers wrapping around yours to pull you up the stairs. “Follow me.”

-

After a long walk around the castle’s maze of pompous corridors, the pair of you emerged in what seemed to be a dressing room, paneled with auburn wood. A dress was spread out on the ottoman before you, crafted of layers and layers of delicate tulle, embroidered with the finest thread of silver and gold. The fabric itself seemed to be sparkling ever so slightly, as if there were shredded crystals woven in the garment.

“That’s it?” You asked, stubbornly crossing your arms. “That’s the gift?” Did he really think gaining your trust and forgiveness would be that easy? You may be poor, but you were neither bribable nor shallow.

“Wear this. It’s exactly your size.” The Emperor’s voice tickled the shell of your ear as he loomed behind you.

“But I’m all dirty…” You interjected, which was only half of the reason for your unwillingness. In fact, the thought of putting this garment on your body repulsed you. It felt like treason on your people who were suffering in badly heated homes, wearing the same patched-up clothes for years.

“Ah, well, we can do something about that.” As if it had been part of his plan all along, The Emperor moved past you and opened an unobtrusive door in the back of the room. Hesitantly, you followed him and peeked inside the other room, finding a lush and spacious bathroom before you.

For a short moment, your breath was taken away by yet another showcase of splendor. The curved tub in the middle of the gorgeously tiled room was the biggest you had ever seen and it was already filled to the brim with hot, steaming water.

No amount of fear, repulsion and compassion with your people would keep you from taking this opportunity to take a hot bath, so you wordlessly strode past the contently smiling Emperor and closed the door behind you, even though you knew His all-seeing eye would probably be all over you regardless. In contrast to wearing the dress, you found the chance of having a warm, clean body impossible to resist.

Without thinking, you stripped your patched clothes off and slipped into the hot waters, suppressing a sigh that would have undoubtedly sounded nothing short of pornographic. It was a shame that a hot bath (something that had been perfectly normal in your early childhood) had turned into a luxury of such indescribable dimension that you had tears in your eyes, now that your tense body began to relax.

There were a dozen flacons of pure crystal at your disposal, containing the most exquisite scents of the world, and you didn’t hesitate to pour some of the colorful liquids into the steaming bath water, creating compellingly scented foam.

You took all the time in the world to wash every square inch of your body and hair, being perfectly aware that this might very well be your last bath ever. Only when the water eventually turned cold, you climbed out of the tub, finding a soft bathrobe exactly your size at your disposal.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, with a deep sigh on your lips and a heavy feeling in your gut, you were not very surprised to find your hair suddenly all-dried and softly framing your face.

The Emperor stood right beside the ottoman, awaiting your arrival with patience but unconcealed eagerness. His blue eyes traveled from your bare toes to the crown of your head, seemingly pleased with the sight before him.

“Now, the dress.” Urgently, the man held the garment out to you, pupils greedily flickering from you to the fabric and back, as if he couldn’t wait a second longer to see it wrapped around your body.

Even though the dress was outstandingly beautiful, the thought of wearing it was more humiliating than being a pauper dressed in grimy cloths. Like biting a poisoned apple by accepting to be The Emperor’s dress-up doll. Unwillingly, you shook your head no, crossing your arms.

“Wear it. Or do you want me to send a letter to one of your beloved family members? I’m afraid, to them I won’t be as nice as I’m being to you, though.” The man’s brows were drawn together and his voice dark and deep like an accord of shadows, until suddenly he switched back to the sweet sing-song voice you were used to, caressing your ears like butterfly wings. “Now what do you say, hm?”

“Fine, I’ll wear it!” Infuriated, you practically tore the garment from his hands. “Then turn around, will you?!”

“Well, if you insist.” Smiling smugly, he indeed turned around, and like before you were fairly sure that he was watching nonetheless. Unceremonially, you dropped the bathrobe to the floor and stepped into the dress, quickly pulling it up your bare body even though you missed socks and underwear. You weren’t surprised to see that it was in fact exactly your size and hated how it hugged every part of you perfectly.

“Allow me to help you with the back.” Uninvited, The Emperor turned back around and closed the distance between you with just a few steps, still wearing the same smile. A heartbeat later, his hands were on you, fiddling with the silken laces that were supposed to tie the dress together in the back.

The moment he made contact with your skin, a shudder ran down your spine, causing you to flinch – until you were met by a waft of his cologne. The scent was indescribably rich and manly, elegant, regal. Dominant.

It was right up in your nose, beclouding you, making you senseless and you oh-so-gently leaned into his touch, relished the way his cool fingertips danced over your heated skin as he tied the laces up. You caught a glimpse of the pair of you in the mirror, noticing how shamefully flustered your face looked and how tall his frame loomed over you. A knowing smirk played on his full lips, and he took his time, deliberately brushed his fingers over your bare back a little too often. There was a gentle moan in your throat, yearning to be released by your parted lips while a mesh of excitement began forming in your lower belly, twisting and fluttering upon every little caress.

Finally, he was done and took an appreciative step back, releasing you from the hazy prison that was the scent of his perfume. Shocked, you backed away from him, forcing a grim expression on your face as if that would make the previous moment of pleasance undone.

“You look ravishing” he commented on your looks.

“It looks fine.” You shrugged your shoulders coldly. The dress was beautiful, but you couldn’t keep yourself from hating it on you.

“You look perfect” he insisted, and yet you thought you were a picture of misery next to his tall frame and immaculate white attire. “Shall we?” He asked sweetly, holding his arm out for you to seize it. Knowing every sort of resistance would be in vain, you looped your arm around his, allowing him to guide you wherever he desired.

The pair of you made your way through the castle, along red-carpeted corridors, spacy halls with fluttering curtains, further up broad oaken stairwells until you had lost orientation entirely. Eventually, you entered an opulent hallway of cherry red colors, decorated with framed portraits of disfigured people with broken, screaming faces; blood pouring from their empty sockets. Their eyeless expressions seemed to be following you as you walked past them, and The Emperor didn’t fail to notice your unease.

“These are my… family” he explained. “The way I remember them looking in the sweet moment of death.” He smiled fondly at the memory, causing bile to rise in your throat.

There were portraits of a middle-aged man and woman, followed by one of a blonde, little girl. Perhaps his parents and sister? The next painting was that of an elderly, white-haired man, his jaw severely shattered – Maybe, his grandfather? The last two portraits showed two young adults, a brown-haired boy and a girl with very short hair – Even more siblings of his?

You cast a wary glance his way, but he didn’t elaborate further. He just slightly tightened his hold on your arm and dragged you after him, leaving the horrid corridor behind.

Not much later, the thought of the bloody portraiture was banished to the very back of your mind, when you finally reached your destination – the dining hall.

Upon your entry, the first thing you noticed was a large, elongated table, masterfully carved of mahogany wood, loaded with impossible amounts of steaming cooked, fried and baked dishes, ornate bowls overflowing with exotic fruits, silver trays full of sweet cakes and pastries. Their irresistible scents infiltrated your nose, drew your weak body towards the rich table while saliva collected in your mouth. The rumble in your belly came as if on command, reminding you that your diet ever since the collapse had mostly consisted of dry bread, potatoes and an occasional, utterly rare bite of meat.

A heartbeat later, you found yourself being seated at the far end of the table and a plate of steaming food before you. Confused, you blinked and stared at the spot where you had previously been standing. Were you so hungry that your mind was playing tricks on you already? Did you pass out for a second? How was any of this physically possible and where did this impossible amount of food come from? Who cooked it?

“Wine?” The voice of your unearthly host caught your attention, tearing you from your dazed musing. When you looked up, you realized he was seated all the way across from you, so far away that his soft voice slightly echoed off the walls.

“No, thank you.”

“I insist.” He smiled, and a bottle of red wine suddenly started levitating off the table top, unscrewing itself as it floated over to you.

“I said no, thank you!” Your body grew stiff when the crystal glass by your plate began levitating as well and a small flood of crimson liquor was poured inside by an invisible hand.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned. It’s just the finest wine, a rare vintage.”

“The townsfolk say you make wine out of abductees blood.” With pale cheeks, you eyeballed the dark red, viscous liquid in the pompous glass before you.

“Oh, I know they do. I like the idea. The taste, however, is not even close to beating the taste of an actual fine wine.”

Your eyes snapped up at the man across from you who regarded you with amusement, carrying a delighted sparkle in his icy eyes. Fighting the urge to throw up, you pushed the glass away from you.

“Don’t pull a face, darling. I wanted to do you a favor because I thought you must be thirsty and hungry, but we can skip the preliminaries entirely, if you want, and get right to the main course. Because I am thirsty and hungry too.” He finished off the sentence with a faint growl, as if his guts were in fact churning with hunger for something lively.

Your heart started banging wildly as your mind filled up with images of mutilated bodies and wooden barrels filled with liters of your warm, fresh blood. You saw your limbs being cooked over open fire, your organs baked and stuffed into pastry.

“What do you want? What do you n-need me for?” You inquired with a whimper.

“I can do a lot of things, I can be a lot of things, but some things are better to be done with a little bit of help.”

“L-Like what?”

“There is nothing that compares to the feeling of a warm body beneath me.”

Not unlike the rustle of the winds, there suddenly was a presence around you, foreign but inviting, lightly dancing over your form. The satisfied smile on The Emperor’s lips proved him to be the puppeteer of what you thought must be the ghosts of his hands. They were all over your body, tugging on your waist, caressing your tulle-clad flesh. You gasped sharply and clutched the armrests of the chair; eyelids fluttering halfway shut as the feeling of being touched by more hands than a human man possessed traveled to your chest, pinching the sensitive areas.

“What makes you think I would ever-, I would ever…” You gasped, losing the thread when something kneaded your inner thigh, close to your center.

“I see everything, remember?” He replied with a tilt of his head, displaying an almost lenient smile on his full lips.

Even though he was still meters away from you, sitting calmly on his chair, you were suddenly hit by a waft of that perfume again, infatuating your senses. As if someone had mixed aphrodisiac and spritz of narcotics with the cologne, you found your head lolling back. This time, the gentle moan freely found its way past your lips, lingering in the air between you as if a part of your soul had been extracted by his sorcerous spell.

Despite your hazy state of mind, you saw the man’s Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he hungrily watched you squirming beneath the pleasure granted by his own invisible hand, noticed the quick heaving of his chest beneath layers of white regal clothes.

Your thighs were slowly inching apart as the foreign pressure on your body moved higher, until it was eventually cupping your center, applying pressure to your most private part.

“O-oh, God.” The curse softly traveled out of your mouth, followed by more whines and pleas, countless of them now that the dam was broken and every ounce of shame was banished to the back of your head.

Quickly, you found yourself rocking into the foreign caress in dire need of more, regardless of the wicked circumstances. The Emperor’s phantasmal hands worked with sinful precision, stroking circles along your most sensitive body part where thousands of nerve ends ignited. Simultaneously, his ghostly touch traveled along the length of your entrance, which was utterly devoid of a layer of underwear to protect you from the unholy caress.

Therefore, there was nothing to prevent your essences from leaking on the fabric of the dress. A hot, wet patch was forming where you were seated, writhing breathlessly, withstanding the urge to prop your legs up on the chair in pathetic manner as the tension in your lower belly grew incessantly.  

Panting, not unlike an animal in heat, you trained your blown pupils on the man across the table. Despite the overwhelming bliss the ghost of his touch brought you, you urged for something more, something inside, the sensation of flesh meeting flesh.

Even across the distance, you noticed The Emperor’s posture growing tense and one hand of his traveled to his lap, vanishing beneath the tabletop. The action was followed by a sharp flash of want traveling from your mind to your core. You wanted to see what he was doing with his hand, wanted him to put his actual hands on you, in you, wanted him to wrap them around you as he fucked you on his cock.

When you blinked, he was right before you, closer than ever before, and his eyes were black and wide and full of hunger that had never been satisfied.

The two of you met halfway, as you jumped off the chair to hurl yourself at him and he bent down to pull you in his arms, wrapping his veiny hands around the undersides of your thighs. Moaning needily, you let him scoop you up, relished the warmth of his chest as you greedily rested your breasts against him. A heartbeat later, his full lips were on yours, wiping your mind blank as he melted every wisp of a thought away, except for the one of raw need.

Desperately, you clung to him as he carried you along the corridors, climbing up rows of stairs to reach whatever destination he had on mind, meanwhile keeping you impossibly close to his own body with possessive hands while his mouth remained ceaselessly on yours. You were surprised by the passion of his gestures, regarding that they came from a man who could take whatever he wanted by force.

Drowning in his perfume and the divine sound of his soft groans, you hardly noticed as he climbed up the last set of stairs, bringing you to castle’s highest tower where the pair of you burst into the master bedroom. From the corner of your eyes, you faintly registered the staggering detail on the painted ceiling and the ornate accents of pure gold on the noble furniture, worthy of a king.

You found yourself caught up in a storm of intimacy when he lowered you on the regal canopy bed, covered with blood red silk and surrounded by transparent flowy curtains. Swiftly, he bunched the tulle of your dress up to settle between your waiting thighs, caging you between his knees.

Your hands flew up to help him shrug the suit jacket off his shoulders, leaving him in vest and ruffled shirt. Impatiently, his hand came down to unbuckle his pants. While the jingling of the buckle promisingly chimed in your ears, you barely managed to undo the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing the enticing sight of his collar bones to your greedy eyes.

A heartbeat later, your attention was drawn to your center where the head of his cock nudged your entrance, guided by his nimble, veiny hand. With pleading eyes, you begged for him to finally still the burning need inside your core, and mercifully, he gave into your wish.

His facial muscles twitched with pleasure as he sunk into you and found himself enveloped by wet heat, accompanied by a string of moans that found its way out of your mouth upon being stretched apart.

The intimacy of the position was almost overwhelming when he slowly bottomed out and slammed back inside you, finding you well-prepared and slick with your essences. Willingly, you lied trapped beneath his frame, locked inside his possessive blue-eyed stare as he found a rhythm to conjoin your bodies, pounding into you deeply upon every thrust.

Never before had the fire in your guts burned brighter than right now, being entangled in missionary position with the myth-enshrouded Emperor himself.

As you stared up at the man’s (?) ethereal beauty, you found yourself wondering who the entity above you really was – if he was timeless and ageless like the townspeople said, or an elaborate trickster.

“Are you a ghost?” You mewled against his open mouth, half-lidded eyes meeting his.

“Do I feel like a ghost to you?” He asked, grinning wildly as he buried his cock in you, over and over again, making you feel so incredibly alive.

“N-No, you feel so-o, hnng, human. It makes, aahh, no sense. Who a-are you?”

“So, you are curious after all.” Excitement crawled all over his pale skin, spreading over his temples and the hollows of his bony cheeks, giving a gauntly expression to his royal face.

“Yes. Yes I a-am, ahh-“

An almost obsessed look overtook his features as he smiled down on you, a few pieces of the perfectly coiffed hair coming undone, falling in front of his face where they bounced with every slam of his hips into your welcoming center.

At this point you had to choose (and nothing to lose), so, you decided to take a punch at the faint crack that grew in his immaculate façade as he was slowly coming undone, losing himself in the inviting heat of your body.

“Why?” You asked, infusing all of your stubborn despair into the question, longing to understand.

His puzzled eyes grew slightly wider, filling up with a type of hardness that was the last thing you needed at the current moment. So, you hooked your legs around his waist, keeping him locked in the intimacy and bliss of this position by all means while your arms flew up to wrap around his neck, pulling his face impossibly close to yours.

“All of that… abundance and lavishness, only for the townspeople to live in the dirt and the rest of the world getting devoured by monsters. Why?!” Finally, something on The Emperor’s face crumbled and he was nothing but a man, wearing a bitter grimace of defiance.

“Because I deserve it, and they do too.” The revelation came with a series of harsh thrusts, making you hiss through gritted teeth as you clung onto him despite the sting in your center.

“Who hurt you?”

“What?!” The question caught him off guard, causing him to lose his sharp rhythm for a moment as more messy curls fell in front of his furrowed brows.

“Only a broken mind would assume they deserve all this while the world drowns in poverty and terror.”

“Be careful what you say, darling.” Suddenly, one long-fingered hand of his came up to wrap around your delicate neck. “Just because I like a warm body, doesn’t mean your body will remain warm once I’m done with you.” His eyes flickered with darkness upon the remark, and your mouth flew open in search for air.

“So, i-is that how all those people disappeared? First you, ahh-, have your way with them, then you g-get rid of them?”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, honey.” His grip on your throat loosened slightly, making room for frenzied arousal as you found yourself panting against the restraint around your neck. “Didn’t you still believe they got lost in the woods just a couple days ago?”

“That was before I-, before you-, aahh-” you gasped, mind growing dizzy from the pleasure in your gut, amplified tenfold by the lack of oxygen. “Tell me that I’m wrong, then!”

“Let’s just say they weren’t up to the task.” The man grinned disparagingly. Despite his physical dominance over you, control seemed to be slipping out of his hands, dragged out of his hands by your countless question. Why couldn’t you just shut up and enjoy what he was giving you?

“What task?”

“To make me fucking feel like I’m not alone!” He finally snapped, drowning in regret immediately after. In this moment, he looked entirely and utterly human, emotion leaking from his every pore when he realized he had shared too much.

Like an epiphany, your vision flickered, making room for a much less pompous bedroom which lingered for a fragment of a second, revealing that there were two versions of the same place overlapping. So, he was a trickster, after all.

Upon your discovery, your face and heart suddenly grew soft. Not only did you see a light on the horizon to save your own skin, but you also felt sorry. Genuinely sorry.

In that very moment, as he had his ghostly fingers poking around your mind, the man’s body relaxed and a breathy sigh escaped his mouth, lingering right by your ear where his face came to a rest. Then, as his movement between your thighs grew sensual and almost needy, his mind seemed to be spilling over into yours.

Behind half-closed eyelids, you saw visions of a young, unloved boy who killed his family. Pictures of the same boy flickered by, being abducted and then killing his abductors when he had grown into a man. Images of the same man being betrayed by a young girl and killing her when she was an adult, after he had found a way to escape the prison she had banished him to. Like flashes of lightning, your mind was struck with memories of his ultimate triumph, finally subjugating this merciless planet.

After that, brief snapshots of countless townspeople dashed by, invited to the castle one by one as the emperor desperately searched for a way to fill up the hole in his chest that still wasn’t stuffed although he had everything. He tried everything he could think of – regal dinners, playing chess, thoughtful conversations, physical intimacy, stargazing at night, duets on the piano in the big hall. But ultimately, he always ended up killing them; killing them all because all of them turned out to be a disappointment, just another stab to his already bruised heart, because none of them ever treated him normally. All they had ever done was beg for mercy and tremble at his feet, although he never had the means to hurt anyone at first.

That’s when you finally realized, he was not broken. He was just a boy who had never been loved.

Following a flash of deep understanding that settled in your mind, you stirred beneath him and determinedly guided him to lie on his back, stunned to see him comply. You watched the emperor’s eyes grow wide and disbelieving as you bunched up your dress and straddled his hips, cock still buried inside you.

Deftly, your hands flew to his chest where you unbuttoned his vest with devoted fingers, meanwhile rocking your hips against his, drawing a whine from his parted lips.

“You just want someone to love you, don’t you?”

“I-, I…” He stammered, but the answer lied clearly in his eyes, wide and hopeful like those of a boy on prom day.

He didn’t show the slightest resistance when your fingers moved on to his ruffled shirt, only watching in awe as button after button came undone. When you were finished, you swept the layers of fabric out of the way, revealing his beautiful torso to your eyes, where his pulse hammered beneath his ribs and his lungs heaved so much harder than normally. The delicate skin there had the color and quality of porcelain, looking vulnerable like he was. You ran your hands across his thorax and ribs, traveling over the brief dent of his upper abs, reaching his navel and ultimately coming to a halt at the hem your skirt.

Following the motion of your fingers, his hands almost shily moved beneath your dress, which majestically pooled around the place where your bodies were conjoined, rocking and swaying against each other with need. Inching along the curve of your thighs, his fingers came to a rest on your hips, clinging to them. He locked your centers together like two pieces of the same puzzle, and kept your body impossibly close, as if you were his life line, his only means of salvation.

Boring your eyes into his, reveling in the need and want in them, you picked up the pace, firmly grinding yourself against his body with more urgency. As your center swirled with building bliss, faint gasps came rolling off your tongue, infatuating his senses. The emperor seemed stranded beneath you, clinging to your body almost helplessly as he followed your rhythm, driving his hips upwards and into your heat.

In desperate search for a name to call, you raked your nails over his pale chest where you left faint pink traces, watching with satisfaction when his head rolled back, revealing his bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Henry” he suddenly panted, searching your gaze with half-lidded eyes.

“What?”

“My name is Henry.” Your eyes grew large and bright with realization. H. – The signature on the letter. In your wildly beating heart you felt that you were now the keeper of a secret, and you would keep it well.

“O-Oh, Henry” you moaned ardently, when he nudged a tender spot deep within you, causing more and more of the tumbling butterflies in your abdomen to ignite with colors.

“Y-yes?” He asked hopefully, looking nothing short of a cherub, even now that his golden locks were sticking to his forehead and tiny droplets of sweat trickled down his celestial face.

“You f-feel so good” you admitted, rising and falling on his hips with growing ecstasy as you chased the tingling sensation in your core.

“Do I really?” Henry’s fingers were like vises on your hip, eagerly helping you along while his eyes were trained on your bouncing chest, the driblets of sweat that vanished beneath the neckline of your dress, your hot cheeks and disheveled features.

“Oh, you do.” You admitted and knew you had nothing to fear, because it was nothing but the truth.

“Aah- ohh, this is… You are-” Henry stammered, breath coming in strained huffs as he screwed his eyes shut with overwhelm, keeping them only a slit open to marvel at you.

Even though his physical hands remained tightly wrapped around your hip, pulling you impossibly close, the phantasms of his touch pressed down on your center, nearly making you buckle from the sharp rush of pleasure through your tensing core.

“O-Ohh, oohh, Henry, I’m gonna-” Your head rolled backwards as your lips parted for high-pitched sighs, whiningly announcing your approaching climax which twisted and fluttered in your core, making your walls grow tight around his thrusting member. Under the unrelenting caress on your burning nerve ends, the orgasm overtook you like a torrent, washing every fragment of a thought away that was not linked to the pulsing, ardent fire in your guts.

The air was overflowing with the sweet sound of your moans, and as Henry was enveloped by your constricting walls, he found that he had no choice. Lying entranced under your spell which had taken a hold of his heart, he spilled into your center, singing praise and moans of pleasure into the air as the earthly body he had chosen for himself shuddered.

Together, you were floating along the realms of conjoint ecstasy, until the air grew cool and settled on your heated bodies like a silken blanket, lulling you into each other’s embrace. Exhausted, you sank down on Henry’s chest where he welcomed you with the sound of his wildly beating heart as he wrapped his arms around you.

You felt utterly content in his embrace, your mind and heart glowing with exhilaration. Now, even if your mutilated body ended up in a barrel in the basement – You wouldn’t care, because your feelings were genuine and you had no regret on your mind.

Henry faintly stirred beneath you, a hint of a chuckle in his throat as if he was meaning to say you were silly for even thinking of such a thing, now that you had learned a plethora of truths about him. How could he hurt you, now that he had finally caught a glimpse of spring in the eternal winter of his lonesome life?

Smiling, he pulled you closer, dissipating the regal clothes on both of your bodies, which left you in nothing but your fleshly vessels, soft and warm against each other’s skin. The blanket of sleep was heavy and pleasant upon you, and the last thing you saw was a gentle flickering of reality.

The rococo interior faded away and you comfortably came to rest in a Victorian bedroom of much plainer nature. Not a trickster, just a boy with a dream of a better life.

You knew you could love someone like him, and he knew it too.

Perhaps not right now. Perhaps not in a month. Perhaps not in a year.

But you could.

Chapter Text

Echoes of animals you had never heard before made the air ring, bouncing off gargantuan leaves and reeds. The nature surrounding you was of absurd beauty, the vegetation plenty and savory, the earth moist and rich. Foreign palm trees and fern trees towered tall and lush, partially shielding your gaze from the hazy, glowing ball in the sky.

The color of everything was strange to your eyes, being deeply saturated yet not. There was a hue of ochre brushed over everything, even the skies seemed tinted yellow, like there was something in the air. Primeval molecules, swallowing up some of the wavelengths of light emitted by the familiar sun above. Behind the familiar star on the firmament, however, there were unfamiliar constellations shining faintly in the faraway universe.

Inhaling, you let air pool down your lungs. It tasted heavy and humid, swampy, meant to be breathed by much larger lungs than yours. Gargantuan plants produced plentiful oxygen, so the air had to be rich of it. Every small sip of it emphasized the tinge of dizziness that nestled in your head, but was not yet strong enough to cause discomfort.

You knew you did not belong here. You were a traveler who had gotten off at the wrong stop, but with no memory of their travels. You were an invader of this Jurassic paradise, wild and lush, and yet you had no fear. Slowly, you walked through the vegetation, curious hands brushing against the chest-high fern, lost but not worried. As you walked, your bare toes were digging into the wet soil and you realized you were entirely naked, like on the day when you were born. For some reason, it did not concern you.

Following an earthy trail that coiled between shrubs and cycads, you finally realized the reason for your abandon. This place seemed lush and untamed, yet it followed a structure, full of intentionally placed detail and beauty.

It was a garden. An artificial paradise, planted and cared for by an undoubtedly loving creator.

Accompanied, by the chirping of ginormous cicadas, sitting invisibly deep within the undergrowth, your feet carried you to a clearing where ochre sunshine pooled on the branches of a celestial tree. Its branches hung much lower than the ones of the surrounding trees, curling and twisting elegantly. It was partially overgrown with lianas, somehow looking much greener than the yellow-hued plants all around. Something scintillating on the bark caught your eye, and you found the tree almost irresistible.

As if trapped in a tunnel, the vegetation in your periphery view grew hazy and fuzzy, colors and shapes drooping into one another. Only the ethereal tree remained crystal clear, standing rich and inviting under the sun. Coming closer, you realized its branches were heavy with ripe red fruit, and your guts were panting to taste their sweet juices on your thirsty tongue, to fill your empty stomach with energy.

As your feet halted, your eyes came to a rest on the plumpest fruit - deep red and vibrant, directly at your eye level. A droplet of water trickled down the curve of the fruit, causing your throat to swallow the surplus of saliva that had formed on your tongue.

A movement caught your eye, and you realized there was a serpent coiling around the tree trunk, much thicker than your arm, even thicker than your thigh, with scintillating scales. Caught in a dream-like state of naïve wonder, not even the huge animal managed to scare you. It slithered away as soon as you came near and reached your hand out to brush it against the alluring fruit.

Its skin was cool and smooth under your fingertips, and you released a yearning sigh from the back of your throat. With careful fingers, you plucked it off the branch, feeling your heartrate rise with anticipation as you brought it to your parted lips. As soon as your teeth sunk into the fat fruit, its sweet juices spilling onto your tongue, running down your hungry throat. Its taste was by far the most divine you had ever savored, and the breath that left your mouth was a fleeting moan, much lighter than the rays of light cascading down from the heavens.

But not even a heartbeat after the sound had left your lips, a shiver crawled down the nape of your neck, alarming you of a shift in atmosphere. Startled, you aimed your gaze skywards where the sun retreated behind a grey cloud, bringing cool air and muted colors.

With the shift in weather came a shift of mood, causing the fine hair all over your skin to stand on end. There was a thunderous presence in the air, causing turmoil among the molecules around you and a foreboding echo in your head, like the chime of old church bells, heralding the arrival of a messenger.

Full of fear, you dropped the bitten fruit to the ground and stumbled away from the tree whose branches were swaying ominously in the chilling breeze.

Your staggering path came to an end when suddenly a violent bell stroke made you double up and clasp your ringing head with pain. When it was over and you screwed your eyes back open, you knew there was someone behind you, waiting for you.

The messenger had arrived.

With horror in your chest, you turned on your heel to face the one who had come to speak with you, and you found that he was an angel, and you were very afraid.

Dressed in muted, white robes, tied together by a cord around his slim waist, he stood amid the meadow and all the flowers and grass blades bowed before him. Bare feet poked out underneath the garment that pooled around his legs as he slowly approached, hands folded in front of his hips.

The angel dragged his enormous wings after him, and they were much taller than him. High like walls, thick and fleshy, covered with white feathers and incredibly heavy. Whilst the top feathers were of almost snowy white color, the ones at the bottom were grimy and torn, stained with earth and dust, spiked with thorns that had gotten caught in them over the eons.

A sorrowful yet mighty expression adorned his features of incomprehensible beauty, soft like a feather yet gauntly like a naked skull. His crown of dirty golden hair made you not miss the sun anymore.

And the angel spoke to you:

“You are waltzing around the garden, thinking you may feast on God’s creations. Who do you think you are, little human; small thing?”

“I am-, I am…” You choked out broken syllables, quaking in the face of his beauty.

“You are a sinner.” The angel declared, and the air vibrated in agreement.

“A-and who a-are you?”

“I am a guardian.”

The guardian moved closer, walking with graceful steps until he loomed right in front of you, forcing you to crane your head upwards pitifully to meet his dooming gaze of saturated blue. He raised his hand to brush his pale fingertips against your trembling lips, drawing a horrified whine from you.

“Those lips have touched something they shouldn’t have.” The angel whispered and swiftly hooked his thumb behind your bottom row of teeth, dragging your surprised mouth open. His index and middle finger traveled along your tongue, pushing to the far back of your throat. You remained frozen, enduring the intrusion with an indescribable feeling in your stomach; one that caused your thighs to quiver like aspen leaf.

As he pulled back out, he found proof of your sin. Among saliva, he retrieved half-chewed fragments of what had once been the fruit from your mouth. He held his glistening fingers in front of you, and a ray of primeval sun burst from the cover of clouds, reflecting on it. A shadow of anger but also anticipation twisted the angel’s features as he regarded his findings.

Your chest pounded with regret and humiliation as you saw your own saliva and partially chewed scraps coating the angel’s fingers. Such a vile and mortal thing that shouldn’t be on his hands. You were ashamed, fearfully bowing your head in apology.

Unimpressed, he placed one slick finger under your chin, forcing your gaze upwards where he met your eyes with a stern look and a tilt of his head. You crumbled into pieces, releasing a broken whimper from your throat. Keeping your chin locked in his gentle grasp, he stepped aside, clearing the view for what lied behind.

Amid sprouting grasses, there stood an altar of white, crumbling stone, bearing up against rampant nature like a relic from a prehistoric cult, screaming for an offering to be made on top of it.

Your pupils grew small at the sight of it, followed by a rush of hormones through your body, igniting a fire of fear and something much fouler. It was this moment when you fully realized that you were naked, and his eyes were hungry.

When your heartrate spiked and a violent tremor ran through your body, calling for you to flee, the angel’s grasp on you was suddenly not so gentle anymore. His hands were rough on your bare waist, squeezing it as he lifted you in the air and marched towards the altar.

You knew a punishment was imminent.

“No, no, no!” You called out, vainly tugging on his hands but they seemed made out of stone.

“Since you helped yourself on my garden, I am going to help myself on you…” He mumbled solemnly and forced your back flat onto the hard surface, avoiding your flailing limbs.

“N-n-no, oh God, please…”

“God won’t help you.” An amused timbre swayed in the angel’s voice, unexpectedly enkindling your resistance, your human nature to be defiant and not to accept your fate just like that. Your voice of reason awoke from its slumber for a faint moment and your wits allowed you to spot a hole in the angel’s defense.

He attempted to climb on top of you, but the sheer weight of his wings made his movement slow and heavy. Although meant to fly, they seemed to shackle him to the ground, dragging through the dirt like weights of stone. When he lifted his knee on the altar top, he struggled to keep balance for just a fleeting moment which was more than enough for you.

Fast like a mouse sprinting away from a hungry serpent, you slid off the stone and ducked under his arm that reached out for you. Your feet hit the muddy grass and you ran as fast as you could, darting for the tree line, preferring whatever monstrosity might lurk there over the one in your back. You were faster than him; you just knew you were. There was no chance for him to keep up with your agility, unless he somehow managed to raise himself in the air.

Horrified, you came to an abrupt hold, violently choking on air when something wrapped around your chest, lightly raising you in the air. An invisible, eldritch force had gotten a hold off your body, yanking you backwards and around.

 You saw the angel’s hand outflung, crimson blood seeping from his nose, staining his perfect complexion. As his fingers curled, the force dragged you towards him – towards the altar.

“Where are you going, little human? Your small feet cannot outrun me in my own garden.” His voice bore a dark chuckle.

You screamed your lungs out, dug your feet into the soil as you struggled against the overwhelming pull that yanked you towards the guardian of Eden. With bare hands you tried to tear his phantasmal grasp off you, but all you achieved were scratches on your own skin.

Anomalies plagued your vision, stronger than before. Blurred colors bled into one another and danced around your peripheral view, plunging you into a fit of vertigo. The only thing that kept you conscious was the angel’s face, shining like a fiery beacon amid your tunnel vision. Your feet grew limp as fight turned into fatigue, weakly dragging through the dirt as he brought you back to him.

Shortly after, he welcomed you in his holy arms. Ceremonially wrapping his large, long-fingered hands around the smallest part of your waist, he lifted you high up in the air as if to present your nude form to God, like the gift that you were; the offering. With slender arms and deviate ease, he raised your weight high above him until your hips were elevated before his face.

Suddenly, a split tongue darted out between his parted lips to taste your center, wriggling between your folds to lap at your essences. A glorious burst of pleasure ignited your core, causing your head to roll back and your thighs to open for him. Instead of crashing your knee into his beautiful features, instead of cracking his skull open with the heel of your foot, like you could have, you hung willingly in his grasp, exposing yourself to his holy face.

His arms were like branches of a tree, and you were an apple, hanging from his strong hands; growing from them, like you were becoming a part of him.

“I can taste the blasphemy on you.” The pointy ends of his tongue came to flick over your bundle of nerves which lay swollen above your leaking entrance, causing your head to roll back further with a tormented whine. “Like a ripe little berry” he commented on this proof of your arousal, complacence oozing from his melodious voice like dark honey.

The angel continued to lap at your cunt, taking his time to explore the bumps and crevices of your anatomy with his nimble tongue, slithering back and forth with jittery pace and rhythm. Your toes cramped up painfully and choked moans flew out of your throat as you fruitlessly tried to find a way to deal with the ignited ball of pleasure in your core.

Only when he withdrew the ophidian muscle from your flesh, letting it slither back into his maw, you stirred in his grasp. Prayerfully, he lowered your body and set you on the cold stone surface of the altar, avoiding your weakly kicking arms and legs.

“Lie down! Be still, tiny thing; heinous sinner!” His voice boomed like thunder, and you found yourself freezing under his enthean gaze, resting your back flat against the stone.

Sharp ache bloomed in your shoulder joints when your arms were yanked upwards by unsaintly force, pinned above your head and rendered unmovable. His gaze traveled down your bare chest and across your navel as he settled by your feet, both knees planted on the altar, heavy wings falling down on both sides. Devoutly, he spread your thighs with firm grasp, fully exposing your center, which left you vulnerable to his star-born eyes and the greed of his hands.

“P-Please, I…” Your thoughts were swimming away, and you did not know whether to beg for him to spare you or continue. His hungry eyes on you burned like flames licking along your cunt, and they burned so well - so temptingly.

As you spoke, his eyes snapped back up at your face, like a startled serpent with no trace of warmth in its eyes. Anomalies danced across your vision; half-translucent floater bands that distorted your sight and temporarily turned the angel’s pupils into slits.

Suddenly, he flung his hand out to the side, and your gaze followed. Your vision snapped back to normal, and the air was crystal clear when the bitten fruit flew into his arched fingers.

“Since you have already defiled the fruit…” He declared darkly and made sure you watched closely as he brought it up to his face, curling his upper lip upwards to expose his teeth. Suddenly, his incisors retreated into his gums while his canines grew unnaturally, becoming slim and pointy. You lied frozen like a rodent as you watched the angel unhinge his jaws to sink his serpent teeth into the fruit. His slotted pupils were trained on you while he chewed and gulped with a bob of his pale Adam’s apple. Triumphantly, he held the violated fruit over your exposed center, squeezing until it popped with a wet sound, spilling cool slippery juices onto your exposed flesh.

“This is-, I don’t think this should-” You winced when the essence hit your center, emanating a subtle tingling where it was coating your skin. Involuntarily, you found yourself writhing on the hard surface, unable to leave.

“Don’t worry. It was made for this.” The angel cooed with a mirthful sparkle in his eyes and trained his gaze back on your center where a blissful ache was starting to grow, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider in desperate search for relieve. “It attracts trespassers like you. You came to me like a moth to the light, didn’t you?” He seemed delighted by the reaction of your body.

Smiling faintly, the angel traced the path of the protruding tendon that connected your thigh to your hip and came to a halt by the side of your cunt, watching with pleasure as your thighs twitched with anticipation. Your body greedily sought his caress while a plethora of needy sounds came from your mouth.

“O-Oh, please…” You whined, and there was an unfamiliar timbre to your voice, making it almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

Ceremonially, the angel placed his delicate hand on your yearning center and spread out the prickling juices. Your head flew back for an ecstatic moan when the pads of his fingers came to massage your clit, carefully smearing the enigmatic substance over the aching bundle of nerves until you thought your lower body was about to explode with rapture.

His fingers, the essence, even the air, seemed to be intoxicating your senses with mind-consuming ecstasy like you had never felt before, leaving you hanging on the searing edge of a permanent orgasm, yet never tumbling over, only building, building, building further up into infinity. Your body shuddered violently when two fingers trailed between your folds where they easily breached your entrance and stretched your aching walls. The angel repeated the procedure several times, slowly withdrawing his digits to coat them with fresh juice and slowly push them back into your cunt where all nerve ends were abuzz.

“Now that you are docile…” With a wet pop he removed his fingers from your center for good, leaving you empty and trembling with a hazy panic as you whined at the loss of contact. However, you were swiftly rewarded when his hands moved to the cord around his waist, untying it.

The white robe smoothly slid off his body and pooled around his knees, leaving him entirely naked, just like you were. He had the gracile physique of a dancer, sharp bones under fair skin. Lithe muscles left faint lines on his arms and abdomen, guiding your mesmerized gaze downward. His erect member stood tall in front of his slim hips, veins twining around it like the lianas around the forbidden tree, sporting a head that was thick and swollen, the pinkest part of his pale body.

Your toes and hands cramped with anticipation when he moved closer, divine skin touching skin. With one hand, he spread your thighs wide and guided himself to your center with the other. Swiftly, he slipped between your slick-coated folds, drawing countless whines from as he pressed against your burning center. Instantaneously, your body gave way to him. In biblical manner, your walls parted for the angel who impaled you on his cock like it were a sacred lance and you were his foe.

The intrusion came with a guttural growl from his raptly parted lips and a heart-wrenching cry from you, but one of rejoice. You accepted his cock like a blessing, mumbling mindless thanks and nonsense as he began thrusting into you. Your cunt gave no resistance to him, inviting him to plunge so deep inside you that his balls grazed your heated flesh.

You stared with awe and devotion as the angel descended on you, looming over you like a divine epiphany, teaching you your mortal place. Caged between his arms and underneath his radiant visage, the only thing that existed in the universe was him. With merciless thrusts, he pounded into you, working towards your holy union; fucked you against the altar where you laid helplessly sprawled out for him to ravish.

Your widely blown pupils were aimed on the man-creature above you, drinking in his divine features which bore a sense of dedication but also a shimmer of evil satisfaction, causing the tiniest flame of defiance to spark in you.

“Wh-why?” You panted between the countless moans that fell off your tongue. The angel smiled coldly in return; his meaningful pace never faltering.

“I am only doing to you what you did to my garden. Defile you.”

“B-but I, hnngg, ah-, o-only took one, ahh-, b-bite.”

“You left your footprints all over my soil, touched my plants, breathed my air. In return, I am going to do the same to you. I will take a bite of your tarnished soul and swallow it down. I will leave my handprints all over your body. I am going to touch you however I please. I am going to breathe the air from your lungs until you beg for forgiveness, and maybe, I will forgive your ignorance.”

You realized that you were in fact a sinner, but not for walking in the angel’s garden. You were a sinner for enjoying this encounter. You enjoyed the stretch of his cock as he drove himself into your submissive cunt; enjoyed the blissful, searing ache on your clit whenever his pubic bone hit your flesh; enjoyed the sharp sensation of his hip bones digging into the meat of your willingly bent thighs.

You were a devoted little offering.

The angel leaned down with a tilt of his head, closing the gap between you until his nose almost brushed your cheek. His tongue darted out, licking a jittery stripe from the base of your jaw to your ear, drawing a whine from your throat.

“I am going to feast on you like a buffet” he promised, and his poisonous fangs grazed the edge of your jaws for a fleeting moment. “I will drink your foul desire like juice of the grapes.”

The dark promise did nothing to dimmish your arousal. Intoxicated, you released your desire into the air in form of panted moans; trained your watery eyes on the ravishing face above you as the angel withdrew from your neck. He seemed to be truly drinking up the sounds of your pleasure, perhaps getting drunk on them, because the rhythm of his hips grew faster and rougher, causing your squirming center to bristle with pleasure.

Locked beneath his body, there was a ringing in your ears. The sound of ancient bell strokes in the distance, bringing forth The First Cataclysm. A sharp gust of wind blew the angel’s robes off the altar, carried them off into the distance like a lost pigeon. Cast down from grey skies, the wind was picking up, relentlessly tearing on the tousled ferns and crooked treetops.

The staccato of chirping animal sounds had died off and aside from the howling winds, the jungle laid quiet and awestruck, watching the sacred ritual performed by two of another species. You felt their presence in the stormy fern, their predatory reptilian eyes all over you, the one who had defiled the primeval garden with their uninvited presence.

Devoutly, the angel kept pounding into you, nudged your searing center with every thrust, made sure your cunt remained wet and willing and open for the divine redemption he served you.

You were overwhelmed, confused, grasping at your sanity. Letting your head loll to the side, you were met with blurry, foreign shapes, unsettling contours of prehistoric step pyramids, covered in vines, built by a long-forgotten culture.

You were enraptured as a tug of power forced your gaze skywards again, where the angel’s face loomed over you; demanding and merciless.

His features now seemed wild and alien, with hollow cheeks and barred teeth. He was a guardian, a god, an Annunaki.

You wanted nothing more than to serve him, even if it cost your sanity and your salvation, until the end of time and beyond. You wanted to exist in this unlikely, monstrous paradise and be a part of his garden, a flower in the wind, a berry on the shrub.

The nerves in your center screamed with overstimulation, and yet it was never enough. You were teetering on an edge that was so high up in the heavens, you feared the collapse might kill you, crush your mortal brain as you fell. Whimpering and moaning, you begged for relieve from the pulsing, searing pressure that kept your core ablaze, made you writhe in ecstasy like you were having a seizure. The Annunaki only pushed you down firmly, one large hand sprawled over your chest to subdue you.

He smiled down on you, pleased by your unbridled display of worship for him. Smiling wider, he decided that your time had come.

There was a new shift in atmosphere air; molecules vibrating and screaming with pent up energy as the skies darkened. In a showcase of amazing strength, the Annunaki suddenly raised his wall-high wings in the air, releasing a growled roar from his heaving lungs along with a silent scream of his almost tearing muscles. Your breath stilled with awe and humility, and you knew he was carrying the weight of a whole house on his fragile back.

His face a mask of strain and fury, he began flapping his wings, stirring the winds and the turmoiled clouds above. A tropical thunder storm was beginning to form, black clouds mounting on top of clouds, rumbling, aching, releasing strikes of lightning into the air. With a thunderous ring, the clouds burst open, and it rained down on you. Harsh sulfurous droplets fell on your face and your conjoint bodies, performing lechery in the name of God; in the name of HIM.

“Will you be my little fruit, and let me devour you as often as I please?”

“Y-y-yes, I will!” You howled out in ecstasy, giving your vow to him in frantic devotion.

“Once I spill my seed in you, you are mine forever.”

With a trumpet’s sound, the waters rose right out of the ground.

Gurgling rivers burst from the crust of earth, rising into the air like swirling serpents where they mingled with the sulfurous rain from above. A calamitous vortex was forming, and the altar was its center.

“This isn’t real…” You cried out helplessly. “This is a fever dream.”

“It is as real as I am, my tasty little sinner.” The angel laughed darkly, and the rhythm of the strokes of his majestic wings matched that of his cock, relentlessly plunging deep into your aching, begging cunt. All elements obeyed to his rhythm, water, earth and air were quaking with each return of his hips; thunder screamed whenever he hit your cervix, causing a ripple of pleasure to run through your system, and through the entire world.

He picked up the pace, and nature followed. Fast thunder rang like the bells of Apocalypse, foreboding your climax which was finally bound to arrive.

“Be not afraid, my little Nephilim. Do you wish to become immortal? Then you must bring The Flood.”

The Flood was already pending, raising so high in the sky that it was knocking on heaven’s gates; and it came when you did.

Finally, ultimate and all-consuming ecstasy flooded your system like a baptism, and he consumed your soul like he had promised you. Your mortal vessel frantically clamped around the angel’s merciless cock, receiving the redemption that you deserved; giving everything you had to offer. For him. The vortex of water crashed on you, burying your inseparable bodies beneath purifying floods.

And when you came, he came. And as he came, the world ultimately collapsed with your conjoint euphoria, roaring like he did and like you did.

Behind the thunder clouds, a rock of fire ignited the firmament, quickly growing bigger as it traveled along its deadly trajectory, until the toxic air was hot and scorched your lungs. The striking meteor shattered the earth, replaced raindrops with hailing ashes. The sacred garden burned in flames and a cacophony of tormented saurians made the continents quake, howling for help, stampeding from the forests of their incinerated home.

Only the altar remained unharmed, lying safely in the center of the apocalypse like an anomaly in space and time; The altar and the angel who was unfazed by the inferno and spilled his holy seed into your core which quavered and burned with ecstasy just like the collapsing earth.

The flames danced over the angel’s face, licked along the sharp edge of his jaws, casting dreadful shadows in their wake. The hellish inferno etched into his skin, making room for scintillating scales that remained unharmed by the fire. Smiling with fanged maws, he placed his cool hand on your face, closing your eyes.

As you fell into the void of the universe, you still heard the serpent’s voice, booming inside your skull.

“I will see you again, my little fruit. Very soon.”

Chapter Text

Carefully, you pushed the heavy set of double doors open which gave way with an unpleasant metallic sound. Cool air hit your face and you found yourself having to squint at the winter sun, hanging low on the hazy blue sky.

Before you lied the backside of Hawkins National Laboratory, an asphalt plane that had never been turned into an additional parking lot. Now, there was nothing there except for a couple of deserted dumpsters, the barbwire fence in the distance and the swaying pine trees behind it.

And, of course, Peter Ballard. Your colleague, dressed in the same white attire as you were, leaning against the cement wall with one hand in his pocket. He took slow drags of a freshly lit cigarette, ignoring your presence as effectively as possible.

Inconspicuously, you leaned against the cement wall as well, choosing the other side of the door, and pretended to search for something in your pants pockets. There was absolutely nothing of interest in your pockets, nor did you expect there to be anything.

Your sole reason for being out here in the cold was him.

Eventually, you ceased the act and shifted from foot to foot, crossing your arms. Mesmerized, you side-eyed the tall blond man in the white uniform; his slack posture a stark contrast to how he presented himself in the rainbow room. His angular features were cold and distant, a tinge of resentment chiseled all over them.

A part of the façade he chose to wear in front of Brenner and the children was utterly gone now that he was on his own – Well, except for you. But he didn’t deem it necessary to put the masquerade back on just for you, didn’t deem you important enough.

“Forgot your cigarettes or what?” Peter finally lost his patience and snapped at you; icy eyes boring into yours, his voice much gruffer than the soft sing-song he displayed in front of the children.

“O-Oh, no, I just… wanted to get some… air.” The mere fact that he was speaking to you sent a surge of butterflies to your guts, whirring in a frenzy, desperate for his attention.

“Sure” he huffed, sending a snide glance your way that stung like a papercut, but you were used to it, had a whole battery of rejection scars on your lovesick heart. As long as he didn’t kill you, whatever he did would only make you stronger, and you would never relent.

“Why don’t you tell me what you really want?” Peter probed after a moment, scowling on you, cigarette between his teeth.

(I want to kiss, I want to touch – but that’s not what you want)

You shrugged your shoulders, loving the shiver that crawled down your spine upon his inquisitory gaze on you. Every day, you wordlessly begged for his attention from across the room, but he denied you ceaselessly, pretending you weren’t there. How could you not have a crush on someone as angelic as him? And crave to know all of his secrets? You were good at reading people. You were an observer. Even when he put on the goody-goody façade, you knew there was darkness spinning behind those eyes, and you wanted to know what it was.

The trace of a condescending smirk tugged on the man’s plush lips as his gaze lingered on your nervous posture. When you had joined the staff, at least you had tried being inconspicuous about your interest him, but this – this was just pathetic, he found.

Your expression crumbled when suddenly, Peter began leisurely walking over to you. As he approached (on his own free will, not because work required him to!), you stood as if caught in a net, spun by the frantic strokes of butterfly wings in your belly.

Eventually, he came to a halt in front of you, the tips of his black leather shoes almost touching yours, and held your gaze hostage in his own. From up close, you could count the tiny pores on his fair skin, saw the faintest trace of 5 o’clock shadow along his chiseled chin and jaws. Hopelessly entranced by the beauty of his features, you didn’t even mind the biting stench of the smoke, wafting at your face.

Peter lifted his veiny hand, the one leisurely holding the fuming cigarette between middle and index finger, and took a drag. Mesmerized, you ogled the way it was enveloped by Peter’s lips – so full, and pink and soft-looking, the sight of them so up close made your guts ache with gnawing desire.

With mild amusement, he followed the gaze of your glossy eyes, noticing how your own lips were lightly parted, and he also knew the heated look on your face didn't come from the cool winter air. It came from the pathetic human need in your human little body; from that noxious desire that Peter found himself free of. Mostly free of.

Horrified, you stared as the man before you released the cigarette from his plush lips and slowly flipped it around. He held the end that had previously been in his mouth out to you, sending you into submission with his blue-eyed stare.

You found your lips parting for the cigarette willingly (so willingly), even though the smoke bit your nose like acid and the taste seemed to etch your tongue away. You happily accepted the gesture, head spinning since you knew there was a part of him touching you right now – A couple atoms of him on your tongue.

“Dreaming of a kiss, hm?” Peter read your wishful dream right off your face, rendering it hot with shame.

 “N-No, I h-haven’t-” You stammered stupidly, hands curled into tight, sweaty fists by the side of your body.

“Just smoke my cigarette and hush.” He shut up your ramblings, ogling you with amused satisfaction when your mouth snapped shut and you stood as still as a mouse, caught between the man of your dreams and the wall in your back.

Carefully, he reached for the cigarette and slipped it back out of your mouth since you seemed too frozen (or stupid) to smoke properly on your own. He watched as you blew smoke in the cold winter air with watery eyes, obviously neither used to the taste nor the smell. He watched your expression shift and twist from unwilling to anticipating as he brought the cigarette back to your mouth, gently placing it between your lips. A noticeable tremor ran through your body when his fingers faintly brushed against your lips, leaving more atoms of him there.

Your eyes – big and round and full of anxious excitement – flew up at his.

“Will you ever stop following me around like a puppy?” He cooed. It would have sounded soft and empathetic, if you didn’t know better. “Will you finally stop being on my ass if I give you some attention?”

A staccato of heartbeats thundered in your ribcage when he leaned a tiny bit closer to your paralyzed body, forcing you to crane your head up at his gorgeous face. Your mind roared with silent affirmation, glowing with anticipation.

“That’s exactly what you need, isn’t it? Attention.” Shell-shocked, you watched as he bent his knee slightly and slid it between your thighs, determinedly pushing upwards “Right there.” Upon that, he met your center and ground down firmly.

A neural burst of bliss instantaneously set your lower belly ablaze, making your knees buckle. You almost collapsed against Peter’s body in front of you, almost let go of the cigarette between your lips, but you kept yourself under control. Keeping your fists by your side, you stood as still as you physically could, tremoring as his knee repeatedly nudged your aching center. You knew this was not an act of intimacy, it was a demonstration.

“Peter, s-stop… What if someone comes out?” You awkwardly slurred around the cigarette, almost coughing from the smoke that pooled down your lungs.

“So what, hm?” His voice was a blatant parody of the caring tone he showed inside the walls of the Laboratory, accompanied by a clownish smirk and a tilt of his head that was just a bit too far. “Everyone knows you’re a pathetic little slut for me. Every day, I smell your filthy need from the other side of the building, see how you undress me with your eyes. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Sometimes, you forgot that Peter was an observer as well.

“Peter, th-that’s not true.” You stammered, knowing better than anyone that it was true. The way your eyes were on him, no matter the time, no matter the place, was blatant. His face twitched from the repeated sound of his name coming from your lips.

“Ssshh, quiet now. Don’t call my name.”

Immediately, you screwed your mouth shut, forced all the welling sounds of pleasure to stay inside while the biting smoke ceaselessly poured down your throat. Peter dragged his thigh back and forth, applying pressure to your cunt where all nerve ends were on white-hot fire. The seams of your pants harshly ground against your clit, causing an all-consuming throb to bloom around the swollen bundle of nerves. Mindlessly, you rocked your hips against Peter’s thigh, quavering beneath his chilly stare.

Thanks to the frenzy of pleasure that held your human little mind hostage, you still found yourself too stupid to smoke properly. Amused, Peter took the cigarette from your lips once more, and alongside of the smoke, the neediest little whine escaped your mouth, causing something on Peter’s face to twitch.

Carefully, he set the cigarette back between your willing lips, never taking his eyes off your beautifully flustered face. His cool fingers lingered on your skin for a moment, pushing down on your cheeks where he traced your bone structure and your lower row of teeth. Despite the foreignness of this rough ‘caress’, you arched into his touch, releasing another mewl from your smoke-tainted lungs.

Upon that, his hand dropped lower, feeling along your jawline until you willingly arched your neck, exposing your throat to him. Appreciatively, he clasped your jaws, craning your head even further up until eventually, his long fingers elegantly wrapped around your neck, almost meeting in the back. Then suddenly, he applied pressure (way more pressure than you had expected!), squishing your windpipe with unforeseen strength.

Reflexively, your own fingers flew up to tug at his slender arms, but with his free hand, he easily gathered your wrists and held them in a tight grasp, securely locking them between your bodies. His face was a parody of softness as he easily subdued your struggles, his eyes blue pools of feigned compassion. The tilt of his head grew even further as he entirely stripped you of your will to resist with as little as a nudge against your center.

“Hush. It’s alright” Peter whispered, and despite the cold tone of dominance in his voice, you instantly relaxed.

There was so much of the man you craved touching you, more than ever before – his hand around your wrists, his other hand firmly wrapped around your throat (keeping you in place), whilst his thigh ceaselessly worked on your center with teasing motions, raising searing tightness in your abdomen.

Now that your wrists were caught in Peter’s grasp and both of his hands were busy, the cigarette was stuck between your lips, intoxicating your senses with biting fumes. The man’s gaze, however, made you understand that dropping it to the ground was not an option, so, you bit back the tears of irritation that were beginning to form on your waterline. Peter noticed your struggles and stroked along your pulse with his thumb, thereby drawing your attention away from the object between your lips.

A harsh nudge against your clit made your knees buckle and you writhed in Peter’s grasp, frantically rocking against his thigh in desperate search for release. The ministrations on your core were positively torturous, but you craved so much more, yearned for his fingers stroking through your wetness and his cock splitting you open. If he wanted, you would let him fuck you on the cold, hard pavement.

“P-Please, m-more, I need… more” you feebly begged, using what little oxygen you had.

“Not only are you annoying, you’re greedy too.” His rejection didn’t hurt so much now that he was closer to you than ever, despite the gruff words leaving his gorgeous mouth. “Be a little thankful for what I’m giving you, hm?”

“Y-yes, yes, aahh, s-sorry!” Eagerly, you nodded, regardless of the restraint around your crushed throat.

You screwed your eyes shut to fully indulge in the feeling unfurling in your aching center.

“Look at me.” Peter’s growled command made your eyes fly back open in an instant, and you found your soul entangled in his frosty stare, drilling holes into your psyche.

He was rocking you on his thigh, back and forth, back and forth, rhythmically grinding against your slick-covered cunt. The pleasure in your guts was building ceaselessly, drop on top of drop, screwing your core unbearably tight like a contracting coil spring.

You had stalked him long enough to know there was something more genuine behind the cold, devious expression. A hot flame of hungry curiosity, flaring in the dark pits of his eyes as he let his gaze roam over your disheveled expression on the brink of relief, provided by him (only him).

A staccato of ardent moans welled in your intoxicated throat as your pleasure built, higher, higher, higher, until its waves were mere moments away from crashing down on you.

“Quieeet. Sssshh, yes, that’s good. Eyes on me.” Peter purred, finding you even easier to control than the brainwashed subjects he usually had to keep in check.

His head was now so far tilted, it was almost resting on his shoulder as he studied your strained, twisted expression. His face that usually looked irresistibly soft was now the image of a skull, hollow cheeks and piercing eyes that scanned even the smallest of twitch on your disheveled features.

Finally, finally, under his searing eyes, the relentless pressure on your clit sent your mind and body into overdrive as the torrent of relief came crashing down on you.

“Oh, G-God, Peter.”

You were rejoicing as you writhed in ecstasy, twitched in his grasp. Pulse after pulse, your center clenched, gushing slick into your underwear.

The cigarette stump tumbled out of your mouth as you parted your lips for a silent scream, leaving ashen imprints on your pearly white shirt. Distrusting your capability to keep quiet, Peter let go of your wrists and pressed his hand on your mouth, covering it wholly; pads of his fingers pressing down on the soft flesh of your cheek.

With the palm of his hand, he swallowed up the feeble sounds coming from your throat as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Weakly, your freed hands grasped at his dress shirt, digging your hands into the stark fabric, faintly feeling the phantom of his firm hips and stomach underneath.

Finally, your body went slack, fully resting against the wall and on Peter’s thigh which kept you upright. Carefully, he released your neck and mouth from his grasp, trying to hide his surprise over how carried away he had allowed himself to become, but he couldn’t hide it from you.

“Th-Thank you.”

Mesmerized, Peter’s gaze lingered on your utterly blissed-out features.

Following a flash of curiosity, he suddenly unbuttoned your pants with one nimble hand while keeping you pinned against the wall with the other one on your hip. Ignoring your whiny protest, he dragged his fingers across your stomach and slid beneath the hem of your underwear, finding your pubic mound and ultimately your drenched, puffy center.

Overstimulated from the orgasm, you squirmed against his inquisitive fingers with nowhere to go, being securely pinned against the wall while analytical eyes bore into yours, taking you apart. He slipped two digits between your slick folds, curiously dragging back and forth, pressing down on your throbbing clit in his wake, finding it swollen and incredibly sensitive.

Mindless, quiet whimpers rolled past your lips, filling the narrow space between your faces – Yours burning hot, his cold and sharp. When he slightly curled his digits upwards, there was a twitch on his forehead, eyebrows drawing closer together. Curling further, he found your slippery entrance and pushed upwards, delighted to find his fingers being swallowed entirely by the hotness of your center, tight, soft and wet around him. He liked how it felt, liked the needy look on your stupid little face, liked the way you trembled beneath him, liked the sound of your pathetic pleas, like you would do anything for him.

Abruptly, he withdrew his hand from between your thighs, leaving you empty and leaking as he chose to ignore your discontent mewl.

“Hmm.” He commented on his findings when he brought his digits up close to his eyes, intensely regarding the viscous texture of your arousal before wiping them clean on his pants.

After a look at his wrist watch, Peter backed away from you, reminding you of just how cold the winter air was if it wasn’t for the heat of his body, encompassing you. With a feeble, longing look in your eyes, you stared after him as he yanked the double doors open. But before passing through, he cast a glance back at you, one that was bluer than the sky.

“Tomorrow. Same place, same time. Don’t make me wait. Oh, and you owe me a cig.”

Chapter Text

“On your knees.”

Henry demanded as soon as the metal door clicked shut behind you, his voice bearing need and urgency, most of all impatience. His hands were firm on your waist when he ushered you against the naked wall, urging you to kneel with a tug on your clothed flesh, but you resisted.

“We are being too obvious, and you know that.”

You could tell he didn’t like that you were talking back; wasting precious seconds that you could as well spend on your knees.

“It was a long day, I’m not in the mood for messing around.”

His voice sent a tremor through your spine and your defiance wavered like a willow in the wind. The crack in his tone scared you, as if he had been restraining himself all day.

“We’re in a treatment room” you pointed out, trembling from the closeness of his body and his porcelain complexion that hovered right over you, his warm breath fanning your heated skin.

“Please, darling.” A concealed cry was wedged in his throat and that only angered him more – for having to beg when he could just take what he wanted. But he wouldn’t.

Something terrible was coming. You didn’t know what it was, but you felt it in the marrow of your bones. Not today, not tomorrow, but eventually it would come. Something was eating him away, wearing down his façade and countenance. Ever since you and Henry had had each other for the first time, in an act that was so primal, it had almost frightened you, he was suffering when he could not be with you.

You could tell from his wide stare from across the room when you worked the same shift. There was an anger burning within the man who had looked so calm and gentle when you first saw him, and you always wondered if it was aimed at you. He had never told you he loved you, and yet you knew you loved him, although you did not know why.

His stare was the same now, blue and needy and blatant.

A storm was coming, a catastrophic one, and you needed to avert it as long as you could. And if you needed to get on your knees again to do so, so be it.

You finally gave into the urgent tugging on your waist and sank down, training your eyes on his transfixed stare, noticed the twitching muscles along his lips and jaws as he watched you lower yourself. On your way down, you trailed the palms of your hands over his torso, along the buttons of his shirt, feeling his muscles flex with anticipation beneath the fabric.

Your eager hands finally reached his belt and you dutifully went to unbuckle it, tugging on it harshly to pull the prong from the punch hole. The jerk made him stagger for a second, and a small groan fell off his parted lips. Staring provocatively at his enraptured eyes, you yanked the leather out of the loops and tossed it across the room where it landed with a clink.

Even before focusing your eyes on his crotch, you noticed the bulge there, straining the white fabric. Teasingly you ran your hands over his hardened cock, feeling it twitch eagerly beneath your fingers, tensing against his pants. Your fingers found his cock head, hot and swollen, so you squeezed around him, palmed him teasingly until he bucked into your hand, hardly containing the needy moans in his throat.

“Peter, I-”

“Say it properly.” He gruffly cut you short although he didn’t even know what you were going to say, but you knew what he wanted from you. His hand came to your chin, clutching it firmly in a way that was not rough but possessive. The pads of his fingers inched along your jaw line, feeling your hectic pulse.

“Henry.” Obediently, you raised your eyes at him and pulled the zipper down simultaneously, knowing he was all yours now. He – Your beautiful enigma.

Raptly, you took him out of his pants, pushing his underwear out of the way until his length stood hard and free in front of his slim hips. A gentle sigh escaped your mouth, and claiming you hadn’t been daydreaming of this for the past hours would be a lie.

Your fingertips danced over the smooth skin, tracing veins with featherlight touch until you reached the ridge between head and shaft, teasing him gently until his breath became labored and his quiet moans whiny. Meanwhile, his hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t know where to put them.

His blonde lashes cast long shadows down his face, and they fluttered like frail wings when you finally licked a hot stripe along the underside of his cock, never taking your eyes off him. The sharp features of his face looked soft in the ceiling light when you licked along the tip, flattening your tongue to lap up the faint taste of precum. When you finally wrapped your lips around him, welcoming him in the wet warmth of your mouth, his lips parted for a gentle sigh, and he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Under his adoring gaze, you began to bob your head, slowly growing accustomed to his size in your mouth. Thanks to the stoic job you both worked, there was no trace of salt on his skin, even after a long day. The taste on your tongue was only him, incredibly faint, and you loved that. It was something that no one else would ever perceive, only you, because you were special to him – or so you hoped.

You increased the pressure of your lips, devotedly bobbing up and down along the conjunction of head and shaft whilst your hand tugged on the base with the same rhythm. Your eyes remained trained on him, and today’s stress was melting off him, stroke by stroke. Finally, his hands sprang into action, leaving their place by his side.

“Good, good. So good for me.” He praised you and got a hold of your hair, stroking it. The feel of his dexterous fingers on your scalp made you whimper; a rush of arousal in your belly and you squeezed your thighs together, needing him. The wanton whimper sent tingles through Henry’s cock, causing him to grip your hair harder with excitement.

As he fell apart more and more, he inched closer, sending needy little thrusts into your throat that you endured devotedly. Soon, the wall was in your back and you were fully caged by Henry’s body, towering over you with wide stance, and the gentle thrusts of his hips. You slackened your jaws, trying to take more of him, and your hands moved to his hips, clutching the white pants for support while he used your mouth for his pleasure, trusting you to take it.

“Say my name again!” He pleaded suddenly. “I want to hear it from your lips. All the time.”

“Hnnry.” You gave your all to speak around his cock, saliva dribbling down your chin and his length.

“Fuck. Yes…” he groaned; his voice faltering in a way that made him sound incredibly sweet to you.

“Hnry!” You mewled again, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock that prodded your throat. With power of will, you forced a gag down, but Henry could tell you were struggling.

He wanted to pull away, but you didn’t let him, holding on tight to the belt loops to keep him close. Your stubborn eyes bore into his, and you could tell he was proud, melting a little more in the face of your eager devotion. His hands left your hair alone and came to your face, clutching it gingerly on both sides. Your face felt small in his knuckled fingers, when his thumbs gently caressed your cheeks, and it made your heart swell, made you want to serve him better. 

“My… aaghh. You are m-my reason-”

His reason for what? To hang on? To control himself? Or were you the reason for his anger?

You didn’t know, so you brought both of your hands to aid your mouth, wrapping one around the slick base of his cock and using the other to tug his underwear further down. Henry hissed sharply when you wrapped your hand around his testicles and gently squeezed around the tender skin. An involuntary buck of his hips was quick to follow, this time truly causing you to gag and sputter around him, but you did not relent. With firm grasp, you stroked along his length, spoiled the tip with your wet mouth and fondled his balls with your free hand, watching his brows draw together in real time.

Henry was no longer guiding your movement; he was just holding on as you determinedly carried him to the edge of bliss, wanting to wash his sorrows away. You could always tell when his climax was approaching; saw it in his dilated eyes, the rising breath, the tenseness in his posture and the tiny twitches of his facial muscles. He looked gorgeous and you loved him.

His pink lips parted wide, brows furrowed with strain, and his head rolled back to reveal his jumping Adam’s apple where sweat was gathering. He stuffed his fist between his teeth, biting down to suppress a labored curse. “Oohh, fuck, honey. I’mgonna-”

Jubilating, you squeezed just a little harder, tugged on his twitching cock like you were in trance. With wide, glossy eyes you watched his every reaction, unaware of your aching knees, but terribly aware of the tenseness in your center. Under your dilated gaze, Henry squinted his eyes, head rolling back even further as if he couldn’t bear to look into your submissive face.

And then finally, the growing tightness in his core collapsed and he came down your throat, coating it with semen that you swallowed dutifully, slightly shuddering from the bitterly taste. His body trembled and he almost doubled up from the intensity of his orgasm, whimpering your name with every tremor that ran through his muscles.

Finally, when you were certain he had given you everything he had, you released him from your mouth and marveled at how red the tip was. As your gaze traveled higher, it landed on his beautifully blissed-out features. He looked so peaceful now. You made sure he watched as you licked your lips clean, signaling that you loved doing this and you would do it again, anytime.

In a rush of wordless affection, Henry sank to his wobbly knees before you and firmly pulled you in his arms, planting a kiss on your head. You allowed him to hold you, rejoicing mentally, but grieving because you couldn’t do it in public. Exhausted, you rested against him, listening to his labored breath and the hammering of his heart.

He seemed so calm now, so gentle, like when you had met him for the first time.

The sanguinary storm had been appeased once more – but only for now.

You are either going to find this meme I made really fucking stupid or you're gonna love it. It's the truth though 🤯

Chapter Text

A human required at least eight hugs a day, or so you had heard a lifetime ago. You, however, would be happy with one.

A hug and a little bit of warmth was all you craved as you paced around the first floor of Creel Manor, wandering from bed room to bath room to dressing room and back to the bed room. All of the rooms were chilled, the heaters not working properly in the rundown house. And because you were living with the devil himself, who laid out your clothes for you every morning, you were wrapped up in a 1950s dress that was utterly inappropriate for the time of year.

You had tried huddling up in bed, but it seemed like the satin bedclothes sucked the warmth out of you rather than warming you up, when it wasn’t with him lying there next to you. It angered you endlessly that your body failed to keep itself warm, that you somehow needed him. Of course, you knew he wanted you to think that. Of course, he kept you cold on purpose, and you hated him.

Nothing physically stopped you from grabbing three pullovers from the closet and put them on, but you didn’t want to risk a fight, were in no mood for his anger or his punishment, knowing his volatile temper. So, you had no choice but to seek his company. Strangely, you were not as stubborn about it as you used to be. The long months by his side had worn you out.

With your thin ankle socks, you tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the creaking parts, and peeked into the living room where a fire was crackling in the fireplace. Henry was seated on the couch, the back of his head facing you, coiffed blonde curls peeking out. He was absorbed in a book, hadn’t noticed you yet, and the sight of his now so innocent form made the odd little knot in your chest ache.

Just one hug, just a little warmth, just an ounce of love to fill your empty heart. You were never alone, but you were so lonely.

On the tips of your toes, you crept closer towards the silhouette on the sofa, noticing he had spread the warm fuzzy blanket on his lap, and you glared at with pure envy.

“Look who decided to join me.” Henry suddenly spoke up without looking at you, making you jump with fright.

So, he had noticed you.

“Good afternoon” you replied politely and moved to the side of the couch shyly, knowing from the smirk that tugged on his lips that you had already raised his suspicions, but he remained quiet, waiting for you to speak.

Meanwhile, you whirled every possible way to phrase your request about in your mind, trying to find the one that would most likely get you what you wanted. When your brain ultimately failed you, you blurted out:

“M-May I… sitonthecouchwithyou?”

“Oh?” Finally, Henry set the book down and turned to face you properly, a sort of exhilaration in his eyes that made you regret you had asked, but now that his attention was on you, it was too late to back out. “Darling, of course you can.”

An immediate sense of disgust filled you, now that you realized what your request had done to him. He was still your captor after all, and if you had a smidge of dignity, you would be sitting upstairs freezing instead of seeking his company. But he gave you that tilt of the head, and all of the sudden he looked like the Peter Ballard you had known eons ago.

“You needn’t be shy to ask what you need of me. You know that, don’t you?” His voice was a sweet murmur, disbelieving almost.

Feebly, you nodded, feeling your brain cells shut off one by one under his possessive stare. He always made you nervous, even after all this time. And when he partially lifted the blanket, creating a space for you to sit on his left, your heart fluttered like the wings of a bird in a cage. Ashamed by yourself but yearning the warmth, you took a seat on the soft couch cushions and kept your eyes trained downward as Henry carefully draped the blanket over your lower body.

The faintest sigh escaped your mouth involuntarily as you found yourself engulfed by fluffy warmth, and it was like the frozen cells of your stiff body were being revived. Bravely, you tugged the blanket slightly further up, to cover more of yourself.

“I was so cold” you admitted, whispering, and curled yourself up by his side, propping your feet up on the couch to save as much body heat as possible.

“I’ll get you warm” Henry mumbled and you felt his side-eyeing stare on your face, but kept your eyes trained on your lap, soaking up the heat of the blanket and that of his body, radiating by your right. It was like he was waiting for something, cautiously staying put to see what you were up to.

You noticed the fabric of his pullover was grazing your bare forearm, and the irrational temptation to run your hand over it was strong. Henry Creel was not your friend. And Henry was not one to cuddle. He was a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted, and you were in no position to do the same.

However, your need for physical affection was incredibly strong, sitting in your chest like a stinger, and he seemed so calm today. Perhaps he sensed your inner struggle already; You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been spying on your mind all this time that you spent upstairs.

Anxiously, you closed your eyes and felled a decision. As the visible world fell into darkness, somehow, the thought of laying your head on your captor’s shoulder in desperate search for affection didn’t seem so scary anymore. Bravely, you tilted your head to the side until it softly came to rest on Henry’s shoulder that stiffened up momentarily.

He sat stock still, not even breathing, as if you were a little bird and even the faintest of movement might scare you away.

You knew this display of closeness wasn’t real, but your heart raced regardless when he didn’t shoo you away, didn’t lash out to remind you of your true relationship. Unwholesomely encouraged, you scooted a tiny bit closer, adjusting your position and Henry inhaled audibly. He seemed nervous, anxious almost. You had no psionic powers yourself, but his mind was easy to read when you sensed the tiniest of twitch in his shoulder; Then he stopped himself, followed by another hesitant twitch.

There were a hundred questions burning on his tongue, you knew, but he didn’t dare to say a thing, nor to look you in the face. Just like you, he vividly remembered your countless expressions of hatred with a bitter face, how you had tried to scratch and bite him until he forced you into submission with the aid of his powers. And now you were snuggled up on his shoulder of your own accord.

You found it almost comical. The man who had fucked you uncountable times, caged you under his body, touched every part of you whenever he wanted, was now nervous to put his arm around you.

Finally, you sensed him stir properly and opened your eyes a crack. A curious glance was trained on you, seeming almost shy. Carefully, he brought his right hand forward and across his body, sheltering your face with it as if he was scared you would yank it away while he pried his left arm from between your bodies and brought it behind you, wrapping it around your shoulders.

With a content sigh, you sank back on his shoulder, and despite the brutal hammering in your chest, you felt relaxed. For a few blissful minutes, you sat wrapped up in Henry Creel’s arm, and as long as you kept your eyes closed, it was easy to forget about your sorrows and melt into the much-needed embrace like candle wax.

Like a moth to a light, you were clinging to him, and as the seconds trickled by, you sensed the little moth would burn its wings soon. But against your better judgment, you remained seated, soaking up the intimacy, the cuddling. Your heart faltered when you felt him stir again, shifting his position, growing restless.

Of course, he couldn’t leave it at that. Of course, he had to move on to the only sort of affection he knew to give, possibly to save himself from the imaginary awkwardness of the situation, as if the display of another form of intimacy somehow threatened his power of you. Your showcase of submission must have excited him.

“You smell so sweet” Henry broke the silence and inched closer, moving the hand that had been resting on your shoulder up to brush through your hair, getting a gentle but firm hold of it. “Is that the new perfume I got you?”

Upon your feeble nod, he tilted your head to the side and brushed the tip of his nose against your exposed neck, softly inhaling the scent of the cologne. His plush lips tickled you when he spoke against your tender skin. “Or have you come because you need something else?”

A whimper formed in your throat because you knew where this was going. You never should have asked to join him on the couch. He was so close now, his blonde curls in your face, his lips on your throat, kissing along your jugular.

Despite the natural reluctance in your body, you arched into his touch, allowed him to pull your head back further in the secure grasp of his hand so your throat lied utterly exposed and vulnerable to his touch. Meanwhile, the fingertips of his right hand found your knee, softly caressing the skin and moving higher, bunching up the fabric of your dress along the way. His digits curled around your thigh, gently squeezing the soft flesh that grew more tender the further he closed in on your center.

Without resistance, you let him guide your legs open, whimpering faintly when he traced the seam of your panties that were undeniably growing wet. You felt him smile against your throat between kisses upon your reaction, and you knew he was bathing in your tame arousal.

“Ahh” he cooed with appreciation when his fingers finally brushed against your cunt over the fabric, drawing a whine and a flinch from your jumpy body; nerves incredibly tender although he was just getting started. “That’s a good girl. Just let me take care of you.” He praised and your heart swelled. Henry didn’t usually bear such kind words this early on.

Bathing in the unfamiliar warmth in your chest, you melted in his grasp, legs open, eyes closed, one thigh now fully resting on his lap. His fingers teased along your slit, still covered by fabric, and he found the damp patch from your leaking arousal. Teasingly, he pressed down, mimicking how he would insert his digits into you, but the fabric prevented him. You squirmed weakly under his hand, whimpering his name and pleading for more.

Suddenly, the pad of one finger pressed down on your clit, making you jump and hiss from the flash of bliss that pulsed along your nerves.

“Ssshh, you’re doing so good. You like that, don’t you?” He purred by your ear, nipping along your temple. You nodded wildly in response, squirming and sighing when he set a circular rhythm on the sensitive nub, sending tingles of pleasure through your core. Your toes curled under the blanket, and with warm cheeks you leaned against Henry who seemed drunk on exhilaration, glorying in how readily you gave yourself to him today.

He could be gentle, if he wanted. On good days, he could act like a real lover, even though he wasn’t. He was just another monster in disguise, but today you didn’t care.

Being wrapped up in his solid arms now felt like a prison, knowing that there was no way for you to get off the couch before he deemed you finished. But at least you were warm. In fact, you were hot, and the arousal in your core burned redder than the flames in the fireplace. The couch seemed the nicest place of the whole house right now, and you dearly wanted to stay and indulge in the moment.

Sighing, you sunk deeper into Henry’s arms and the cushions, willingly seeking his affection, lower body aflame from the gentle rhythm on your clit. He hummed in your ear, satisfied, regarding your flustered expression with adoring frenzy in his sky-blue eyes.

“You can always come to me when you need something” He assured you; his voice labored and insistent. “I’ll take good care of you, always.”

“O-okay, ahh, yes please.” You whimpered in response, face twisted with lust. Your core felt already incredibly tight, although he was still teasing you over your panties, drawing slow circles on your clit. Perhaps it was just that gentleness that brought you so close to the edge. Perhaps Henry would learn something from it, you hoped, you dearly hoped.

Triumphantly, he pulled you impossibly closer and clutched you like a possession, as if he thought he had finally won your heart.

Finally, he brought his hand to the seam of your panties yanked the fabric aside, exposing your wet cunt. You whimpered with need when the tips of his fingers brushed against your tender flesh, and you gasped loudly when he slid two digits between your folds, gathering your hot slick and spreading it over your throbbing clit, pressing down harder now. Your body shuddered beneath him.

“My good girl. So wet.” He pressed a greedy kiss to your temple. “All for me, isn’t that right?”

“Y-Yes, of course, it’s all for you” you whined, bucking into his hand.

His hand trailed lower, teasingly stroking through your wetness, prying your entrance open but without sliding in. Your walls were aching, screaming for him, and your core felt about to explode with the need to cum.

“Oh, I love you, angel” Henry murmured against your skin and slid two fingers halfway in, sending a delicious stretch through your cunt. A cry of relief left your mouth when you finally felt him inside you, and your hands flew to his arm, desperately clinging onto him.

When you didn’t respond to his testimony, however, he pulled back out and left your cunt painfully empty.

Frightfully, you whipped around with a flinch, seeking his gaze to see if you had upset him, if he would punish you now for not finding the right words in time, but he was just waiting, staring at you with an almost curious expression.

“I love you too!” You cried the lie out quickly, begging him with tearful eyes, and his fingers momentarily slid back inside you, stretching you wholly until he was buried to the knuckles. With a defeated moan you fell back into his arms.

“I know, darling” he whispered; a dark and heavy tone in his voice, and that’s when he started fucking you with his fingers.

He set a rough pace, stretching you open deliciously, and your eyes rolled backwards with bliss.

The sides of your faces were mashed together, skin against skin, and he pressed hard kisses to your temple with hot lips. He held you tight and safe, squeezed you like a vise while his fingers plunged into you, over and over, making your cunt clench and quaver around him.

Meanwhile, the heel of his hand ground against your clit upon every fast-paced return, setting the nerves within the throbbing nub on fire. Quickly, you were slithering towards overwhelm, your core tensing more and more and you squirmed in his possessive embrace with no way to get away. Knowing that only fueled your fires more, made your back arch and your eyelids flutter. Henry’s fingers fucked you relentlessly, nudging sweet spots on the inside and the outside.

“Henry, o-oh, Henry, that feels good. Oh please, hah-” you cried out, toes curling so hard your muscles cramped, but nothing was going to deter you from the approaching climax.

“Good girl, you’re so close, aren’t you?” The man murmured into your ear, and you heard the wild, triumphant smile in his voice.

“Fffuck, yes I am!”

“Just a liiittleee bit longer” he drew out each syllable, still plunging deep into your cunt with unchanged rhythm. “Can you do that for me, hm?”

“Oh God, I don’t think I c-can-” You protested, insides tight and burning and ready to snap.

“Sshh-sshh, I know you can. I’ll count to three and then you will cum on my fingers, alright?”

“A-a-alright” you panted with tears in your eyes, on the brink of losing it, hot sweat on your brows.

“Ooone” Henry cooed, the heel of his hand nudging your swollen clit with every stroke. This was pure physical torture and you squeezed your eyes shut, barred your teeth with strain.

“Twooo...” Your back was arched to the heavens, your feet and calves cramped, your skin sweaty, your inner walls trembling and hurting from how infinitely close you were.

“Three.”

With a scream that echoed down the hall, you came, and it was hell and heaven and everything in between. You shook and twitched and moaned in Henry’s grasp, clamped around his thrusting fingers, and all your muscles seemed to convulse. Helplessly, you rode the waves of pleasure, hanging in his arms like a fucked-out ragdoll until every grain of energy deserted your body and the only thing you felt was the post-orgasm tenderness in your core and the pain in your calves. Only then, Henry slid out. Fatigued, you collapsed against his side and your head rolled onto his chest, resting there.

“Good job, honey, I’m proud of you.” He suddenly praised you, and the sound of it was so beautiful in your ear, you started crying. Whether it was from this statement alone, from overwhelm or exhaustion, you couldn’t tell, but he let you snivel into his pullover.

Through half-squinted eyes, you saw a box of tissues fly into his extended hand, and he wiped his fingers clean before awkwardly bringing a tissue under the blanket to swipe along your thighs where slick had dribbled down. You gratefully let him, feeling oddly touched when he even pulled your panties back in place to cover your privates.

Silently both of you remained on the couch, waiting for the other one to make the first move, but neither of you stirred. Henry’s arm was still loosely wrapped around your waist, holding you while you rested on his chest, steadying your labored breath. Another minute passed until he picked up his book again, reading quietly, caressing your back every now and then.

Upon that, a glowing feeling speared your heart and you rejoiced, because suddenly you knew why you were crying. It was because he didn’t send you away.

Chapter Text

There was nothing that irked you quite like dishonesty, and the tall blonde man across the room was dripping with it. It's like he had slathered himself with a mask of deception, smiling and nodding gently at the children who played in the rainbow room, keeping his hands folded politely in front of his hips.

He looked so very civilized and composed. The perfect friendly orderly.

Your chest filled with hate as you watched his lips curl into another one of those soft fake smiles. It was outrageous how gentle his features looked, but you knew (you just knew) there was not one honest hair on him.

You had never bought his goody-goody facade and you were horrible at hiding the judgment to show on your face. And Peter, being an observer like you, had picked up on your distaste quickly.

The two of you had grown into arch enemies in no time when he approached you, just a few days after your first shift. Any bystander would have mistaken his tone and the tilt of his head for genuine friendliness, but you knew he was teasing you, provoking you, and he kept on doing it whenever you were unfortunate enough to be in his cruel presence. You would have liked not to meddle, but he left you no choice but to respond to the endless nagging, or so you tried to convince yourself.

From across the room, the friendly orderly sensed your stare, and trained his stupidly blue eyes on you. His smile flickered when he knew he had your attention, and he gave you a subtle tilt of the head, as if he wanted to say: "What's wrong, hm?"

Meanwhile, your own face grew hot, your bottom lip twitched with irk. You, being a fairly emotional person, regularly failed at keeping your composure, and Peter's smile grew a little wider at the sight of your irritated expression.

Following the movement of his head, your eyes landed on his pale neck that vanished beneath the starched collar of his button up. More often than you’d like to admit, you caught yourself dwelling on the image of wrapping your hands around that throat of his, around the prominent Adam’s Apple, squeezing until his face turned purple.

And then again you also thought of his long veiny hands wrapped around your own throat, choking the life out of you while staring you in the eyes, his true nature in his gaze. As your mind strayed, your cheeks grew a little hotter and your center a little tighter, and the corners of the man’s mouth twitched with delight.

“Peter?” The high pitch of a young child’s voice suddenly asked, drawing both of your attention away from each other. “Can we play Chess, Peter?”

While Peter moved over to the Chess board, walking and talking like an angel, you daggered him from afar.

Even the sound of his name left a sour taste on your tongue. Peter. What an absolutely stupid name for someone like him; so bland and average and nice. He didn't look like a Peter to you. He was definitely a Judas or a Lucifer.

*** A few days later ***

There you stood, the cart with cleaning supplies forgotten by your side, the master keycard dangling from your hip. You knew what you had done was immoral, but how often were you given the opportunity to spy on your enemy? Of course, you had gone through Peter’s closet and his drawers, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you had sensed you would find something.

But you had never expected to find this.

For the dozenths time, you flicked through the sheets of paper in your hands, each one containing a pencil drawing of astonishing level of detail. When you first grabbed the papers from the night stand drawer, it had taken you only a moment to realize that the human figures drawn in obscenely explicit poses were you. All of them.

That was your face on the paper, mouth agape for an ecstatic moan, eyes rolled back. That was your body, strung up in spiderweb-like ropes, legs spread wider with your center on display. Your face with a cock in your mouth, a hand entangled in your hair. Strangely enough, the wrist attached to that hand sported a 001 tattoo. And then on the next page, you found a third person drawing, this one clearly depicting Peter and you, both of you stark naked, and you were straddling his hips, his cock buried inside to the hilt. On the backside, you found another one; this time you were being fucked from behind, arms tied behind your back, bearing some obvious marks on your ass.

The concoction of shock, humiliation, fury, excitement and dripping wet-hot arousal caused a flurry in your lower belly. You would have never taken Peter Ballard for an artist. And you would have never thought he was interested in you. A part of you had been hoping, day-dreaming, fantasizing, but this discovery changed everything. Should you be insulted that he mostly imagined you in such submissive, almost humiliating positions? Should you be scared? Your guts already knew, you were deeply and unwholesomely aroused.

Your shock when suddenly the door clicked open was not as big as it should have been. It almost felt natural for him to show up now and catch you red-handed, like the pieces of a messed-up puzzle were finally clicking into place.

The second Peter’s eyes fell on you, the rehearsed softness melted off his features, unveiling his true self, and in that moment, you knew you were staring at the face of a fiend from hell.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" He hollered, voice sharp like a whiplash, and then his terrifying eyes fell on the drawings in your hand. "And what the hell are you thinking, going through my stuff, you fucking bitch?!"

You knew you should have been afraid when he leaped at you with unforeseen speed, violence in his eyes, but you stood your ground, chin high and stance wide, with prickling excitement in your belly. When he reached out, you quickly held the papers behind your back, and for a moment it was like the pair of you was dancing a grotesque twosome, twirling around each other as you avoided his hands.

Until suddenly, both of his hands were on your chest, grasping you by the fabric of your blouse, pulling you close with brute force. His twisted face was mere inches away from you, brows furrowed, cheeks red, eyes glistening with rage, lips trembling. Your own face was flaming hot, heart hammering with arousal.

"Oh, there he is" you commented boldly on his unfettered expression, teasing him like you were tired of life. “Who would have thought that charming Peter Ballard was such a fucking swine?”

You had never seen him this angry, not even remotely so, not even angry at all, but his anger exhilarated you. His true nature, that you had always sensed, thrilled you.

"You...!" He growled, bristling with rage and shame. "I'm going to kill you, I swear."

"I would love to see you try."

“It’s going to be my pleasure. I am going to squeeze the life out of you.”

“To me it seems like you’d much rather squeeze other things of me.”

Upon that, he shoved you away from him, the force almost making you stagger but you stayed on your feet, panting, clutching the papers like a trophy.

"Since when do orderlies have cleaning duties?!" Peter suddenly switched topics, flinging one arm out to point at the supply cart while raking his free hand through his curls, destroying the immaculate hairdo. Something about that caused an undeniable shudder to run through your veins and a gulp down your throat.

“Since the cleaning personnel called in sick and Brenner is a sexist and I am the only female orderly around!”

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“This room is on the list! I can’t just not clean it when I’m told to. And why is your room at the arse end of nowhere anyway?! I couldn’t even find it at first.”

He ignored the question, replacing it with his own. “And since you knew it was my room, you thought you might as well take a good look around the drawers, huh?” He reached his hand out, palm facing upwards, and looked at you with cold, expectant eyes.

Reluctantly, you finally placed the papers in his waiting hand, but not without giving a snide remark. “My favorite is the one where I ride your dick.”

Upon that, he practically ripped the artworks out of your fingers and stuffed them back into the drawer you had taken them from. Despite everything, you felt a little bad for violating his privacy.

“So, this is how you see me? Us?” You probed further, not relenting under his bloodthirsty stare. “You want to tie me up, take advantage of me? Want to fuck me until I cry and beg you?”

“Just shut the fuck up.” He puckered his lips, as if you had insulted him by calling things as they were.

“Make me, then.”

“What did you say there?” He was in front of you in an instant, his hands on your upper arms, clutching them tightly. His face hovered over you, every atom of it beautiful. You had to crane your head up far to retort his stare. Defiantly, you stuck your chin out.

“I said make me, then. If you want me to shut up, make me!”

Faster than light, Peter’s lips were on yours, and the pent-up tension discharged like a crack of lightning, electrifying both of your bodies that snapped together like that’s where they belonged. Standing chest to chest, your lips moved against each other on their own, aggressively, like animals fighting.

His long-fingered hand was entangled in your hair, the other one holding you hard by the waist, while yours were clutching his collar, grasping at his chest and shoulders and every part you could reach as both of you suffocated in a desperate flurry of mutual want. His breath was hot and labored against your face; your own coming in fervid gasps.

"You mentioned being sexist earlier… You know what else is sexist? That you run around in that slutty skirt." He panted against your mouth and ushered you to the bed, urging you to sit and you complied without putting up a fight, growing hot with irk and arousal. He had a good point though. You weren't even given the option to wear a pair of pants for work, which was undeniably unfair.

"Does that mean you have been staring at my legs at work? You dirty boy."

"I've been staring at other parts of you."

“Yeah? Like what?” You asked, although you could vividly imagine from the drawings you had seen. Peter replied with no hesitancy.

“I have been staring at your tits and ass. I’ve thought of shoving your skirt up, bending you over the table and fucking you from behind while no one is looking. I’ve dreamt of grabbing you by the throat and slamming you to the ground and having my way with you until you drool and cry my name.”

“That’s hard to imagine.” You teased despite the flaming lust that swam in your belly and turned your brain into mush, begging you to just tear his clothes off and let him fuck you senseless already. “I always took you for such a well-mannered good boy.”

“Liar.” He responded with a crooked smirk. “Only bad girls tell lies, but I always knew you were a bad girl who likes it rough.”

“You must be such a bad boy then, wrapping a mantle of lies around yourself, every fucking day of the week.”

“What do you expect me to do, hm? Insult my co-workers, the kids? Thrash and scream like an animal? Brenner would be thrilled.”

“No, but… Everything about you is fake!” You cried out, your face almost a pout, trembling with want as he came closer with an ominous smile on his lips, leaning over you threateningly. Automatically, you moved with him, slowly sinking down on the mattress.

"Do you want to know who I really am?!"

"Yes, I want to fucking know!"

"I'll show you then."

Then, Peter’s lips were back on yours, kissing you in a way that drew the breath from your lungs in the form of panted moans. He got a hold of your leg, roughly pulling you on the bed properly, and swiftly settled between your thighs which were spread wide for him.

"I hate you so much" you cried against his lips as you sunk against the pillow, caged by the body of your arch enemy.

"I hate you more" Peter confessed and lifted his head a smidge, showcasing a smirk that was so smug and condescending, it made your hand fly up to his face all on its own. You smacked him across the cheek, like you had wanted to do for months, eliciting a surprised gasp from the man above you.

Anxious, you flinched back, wanting to apologize but before you could, his hand was wrapped around your throat, squeezing you to the pillow. When you met his gaze, you noticed he was smiling, glowing with lust and excitement, and your abdomen pooled with frenzied arousal.

You fake-struggled against the restraint around your throat, beaming at his face with challenge in your eyes. Grinning wolfishly, he squeezed harder, letting you know he was up to the challenge.

"Do you think you can fuck me good, Peter?"

"Peter won't fuck you but Henry will." His smile was fiendish when his free hand moved to his belt, undoing the buckle.

"So, that's your real name?!"

"Yes, but you better keep your pretty little mouth shut about it. Swear it!"

"I swear, I promise." Just why he had a fake name was a question for another day.

"So, you will be a good girl?"

"That, I didn't promise." You smirked up at him provocatively, gasping when he gave your neck another squeeze, then patted your cheek roughly.

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers flew to your blouse, undoing button after button until your chest was bare except the bra. You helped him along, reaching around your back to tear the undergarment off. His eyes glowed with adoration as he raked them over your nude form; nipples perked up.

“Even hotter than I imagined you” he muttered praisingly, then leaned down to kiss your jaws. He mouthed along your throat, placing sloppy kisses on your clavicles and sternum. When he finally reached your breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth to suck teasingly, you grasped his hair with a hiss; hips bucking upwards in search for attention. Henry smiled, taking his time to give both nubs a fair amount of attention before he abruptly withdrew from your chest and sat up.

He yanked both shoes off your feet and tossed them across the room with too much force, then hiked your skirt up and slid your panties down, meeting no resistance from your side. However, when grabbed you by the pits of your knees and obscenely bent your legs, putting you on full display, you squealed, feeling a pang of self-consciousness.

“Let me have a look” Henry murmured, his voice gritty and his eyes greedily trained on your center that was slick already, yearning for his touch.

“I’m not a piece of meat” you protested, unsuccessfully trying to close your legs. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got first, huh? Take some clothes off.”

“Bad girl, I said let me have a look. You think I’ll let you get away with acting shy after you’ve teased me for months?” His grip on your thighs hardened, and you shivered with arousal.

“But I wasn’t even teasing you. Not intentionally.”

“All you have to do is look at me and I’ll grow hard.” He admitted and ogled your nude center like you were for sale and he was checking out the goods.

“Then why don’t you show me just how hard I make you?” Boldly, you wrapped one leg around the back of his neck and yanked him close. Your hip joint ached from the angle, but the look on Henry’s face made it all worth it, when he found himself hovering over your face again.

“Think you can even take all of me?” Henry teased, the surprise on his face morphing into a shit-eating grin while he brough one hand down to fumble with the zipper, taking himself out of his pants. Curiously, you peeked down and saw him stroking himself lazily. He looked big, even in his own hand.

“Now, are you going to fuck me or not?!” You mewled out when he slipped the head between your folds, teasingly rubbing over your wet flesh where all nerve ends were on fire.

“Of course, I’m going to fuck you, silly.”

Then, he prodded your entrance and split you open, slowly forcing your walls apart with the length of his cock. You watched with satisfaction as Henry’s face twisted with pleasure, bearing more genuine emotion than you had seen on him during all the past months combined. And your own face was in no way inferior; You were glowing with arousal, mouth agape, brows drawn together. And then he drew back and slammed into you.

You were panting in each other’s faces as he fucked you into the mattress, the only sounds being your moans, flesh hitting flesh and the creaking of the cheap bed frame, rocking back and forth. The angle at which your legs were bent over his shoulders was near-painful, but you endured, core tense and mind swimming from how good he fucked you. Somewhere in yourself, you still found the energy for an insult, because you couldn’t let him win just like that.

“I bet you’re not going to last a minute” you scoffed. “You’re going to jerk off inside me before you even get me close.”

“Oh yeah, you think so? I’m going to make you squirt all over the fucking sheets before you get me anywhere near a climax.”

“Such bold words from such a pretty boy. You look like you’re about to cum already.”

“I can go all night if I want, but you are going to wish I won’t, because I’d leave your cunt all sore and I wouldn’t feel sorry.”

“Hah, you wish!” You countered, voice cracking when he pounded into you. “Just let me get on top and I’ll milk your cock dry.”

At that, you gave your everything to try to push him off, mobilizing all your force, wanting to flip him on his back and take the upper hand, but you couldn’t move him an inch, not even with the momentum of your angled legs. Henry only chuckled in response, wicked mirth in his eyes as he slammed deep into you with unyielding rhythm.

“What, did you really think you could subdue me?” He mocked, tightening his hold on you. You gave a frustrated hiss in return. “Oh, no, no, no, that’s not how this works. You are going to stay nice and put underneath me until I’m done with you.”

“Fuck you!” You called out and slapped him across the cheek, harder than before, hoping it would get you in trouble. You squirmed and thrashed beneath him, fighting for dominance but not in all seriousness, and when he snatched your wrists and firmly pinned them down above your head, you rejoiced internally but growled in his face like you were an animal that needed to be tamed.

“I should tie you up for that” Henry threatened. “But I don’t even have to. You’re so weak, I can have my way with you just like that and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You hissed with anger, teeth barred, but he was right, and you had never been this turned on in your life.

“Aww, like a feral cat. So adorable. How does it feel to be so helpless on my cock, hm? Be honest and you might get a reward.”

“I’ve had better dick before.” You lied through gritted teeth, grunting with every rough thrust into your dripping center.

“Wrong answer, sweetheart” he snickered and brought one hand from the back of your thigh to your clit, pressing down on the nub harsher than necessary.

“Aahh, s-sorry!” You howled out, head rolling back on the pillow from the blissful pain.

“Try again.”

“Fuck, y-you feel… perfect. You are… Agh, screw you! Please don’t stop…”

“That’s my girl.” Henry taunted and set a circular rhythm on your clit while never ceasing to penetrate you. “What a slut you are for me.”

“P-please don’t stop, ahh, fuck yes, just like that-” You rambled mindlessly, begging without reason, because he wouldn’t stop. The air was hot and stuffy, the smell of sex covering up the detergent, and the only thing on your mind were Henry’s jubilant eyes in his gauntly skull.

“I told you I’d make you squirt all over the sheets and I will.” He gave a winning smile, bearing a delirious sparkle in his eyes. “Is it like you have imagined? Getting fucked by me?”

“I-It’s better!” You admitted angrily, hating to feed his ego.

“No one does it better than the enemy, hm?”

You whimpered your agreement, training your glossy eyes on his as your lips parted for a silent scream and your head rolled back; The only thing you could focus on being the burning tenseness in your core, growing tighter by the second.

“Don’t even act like you can hold it back.” Henry cooed, returning your gaze with smug triumph, and he seemed enthralled when your back arched towards him, elevated by the foreshock of your approaching climax.

“Cum for me, my little slut.”

His fingers on your clit, the relentless stretch of his cock, the degrading command – All of it combined threw you over the edge, and you came with a broken moan, trembling and twitching under this man you hated. Slick came gushing out of your pulsing cunt, staining the sheets below and Henry’s flesh above, but he didn’t mind. He carried you through your climax with unyielding rhythm until your body went slack and your breath came in ragged huffs.

“Dirty girl” he commented with a chuckle. “Getting off on your arch enemy’s cock.”

“Pfff!” You made a contemptuous noise. “Just you wait, I’ll fucking show you.”

You wasted no time to recover or even catch your breath. Roughly, you freed yourself from his slackening grasp and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Get on your back, you… You asshole.” You panted, feeling dizzy when he complied and you straddled his hips, cock easily sliding back into your slick, sore cunt. Immediately, you started rocking your hips up and down, fighting against the exhaustion that gnawed on your body.

With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned his shirt, practically yanking it away from his chest on both sides when you were done. You found it outrageous that he had hidden this beautiful torso from you until now, so lithe and slender and perfect. He looked so gorgeous beneath you as you rode him; almost as blissed-out as you were, despite the nasty words that kept coming out of his mouth.

“You look so cute, trying to be dominant. You know I could turn the tables at any time.”

“Shut your whore mouth, Henry.” You tugged on his shirt that was still wrapped around his arms, wanting it gone completely, but he prevented you by bringing his hands to your hips, holding you firmly and helping you ride his dick.

“Make me, then” he mimicked your initial prompt with a smirk.

“You act tough but you’re also just a little bitch who wants to get fucked.”

“You mean like you?” Henry teased, but his cheeks were red and his lips parted, adorable sounds coming out with every bounce of your body.

“And yet it’s you who is panting like a bitch in heat right now” you snarled, lips twisted with anger at the man below. Your hands were on his pale chest, scratching him hard and intentional, and a pleading sound left his mouth.

“Come on, take your anger out on me. I know you want to.” He invited you, eyes glowing like he wanted you to. He didn’t need to tell you twice, and your hands were around his throat, squeezing it like you had imagined so often. Henry’s eyes grew wide, pupils dilated and his pink lips parted for a pretty moan.

“You have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting to do this!” You revealed and squeezed a little harder, relentlessly sliding along his throbbing cock. His Adam’s Apple bounced under your palms when he swallowed, staring at your face with enraptured gaze. “You are such a slick little bastard, walking around like an angel, but I know better. I’ll find out your secrets, just you wait!”

The corners of his mouth twitched with excitement, like he was a little surprised that you hadn’t pieced it together yet, like he accepted the challenge and he couldn’t wait for you to find out. Your hands around his throat prevented him from speaking, so only breathy moans came out as you bounced on him, squeezing his cock with your inner walls.

He squinted his eyes, teeth gritted, and you could tell he was desperately holding back his climax, wanting to prove to you that could last the whole night like he had claimed. A sharp smack on his cheek drew his attention back on you, broke his concentration and you knew he was only a blink away from losing it.

“Eyes on me, pretty boy. I want to see your slutty face when you cum in me.”

He had never looked this beautiful to you before; brows raised, mouth open, sweat on his forehead and in his messy curls, his whole face twisted with pleasure and overwhelm, like he didn’t know whether to scream or to cry. The broken moan that came out of his mouth when he came was both at once, and his fingers were digging deep into your hips, leaving crescent marks on your flesh as he clung to you while his body tremored beneath you; muscles twitching from strain and relief.

You only stopped moving when you were sure there was not a drop of cum left inside him, and you carefully removed your hands from his throat, realizing you had left red imprints there. Awkwardly, you stared at each other’s heated complexions, heaving chests and sweaty bodies. There were no insults left on your tongue, and it seemed to be the same for Henry, so you sat awkwardly quiet for a moment.

With a tilt of the head, he invited you closer, gesturing: ‘Just come here. We won’t talk about it.’

Sighing, you lowered yourself on him, resting your bare chest against his, feeling the fast beating of his heart.

“Do we still hate each other?” You mumbled against his neck, where your head came to a rest.

“Oh, absolutely… Are you mad about the drawings?”

“At first, I thought I was, but I’m not, no. Your drawing skills are… impressive. I can’t believe you captured me so well.”

“Well, I spend most of my time looking at you. And when I’m not, I’m thinking of you.”

“Are you going to draw something about tonight?”

“Would you like me to?” You heard the pleased smile in Henry’s voice.

“Maybe I would. Are we, um, going to do this again?” You asked, feeling almost shy.

“You mean, are you going to let me fuck your brains our again?” He squeezed your waist as he spoke, playfulness in his tone.

“I’m pretty sure I fucked your brains out and there’s not a single functioning cell in there. You’re lucky to be pretty.”

Henry chuckled upon that, and then suddenly grew serious. “At least you always recognized me for who I am, somehow.”

“That wasn’t very hard” you reflected. “I don’t get why no one but me ever seems to notice anything.”

“Maybe you’re just one of a kind. Maybe we’re alike, you and I.”

“Alike? You and I? I don’t think so. I’m much smarter than you.”

“Oh, well, if you say so. Since you’re so smart and they say the wiser head gives in, what would you say if I proposed doing this again tomorrow?”

“I’d say we have a deal.”

Chapter Text

Prelude

"I don't know, Alice" you muttered to the blonde woman by your side, both of you staring off into the distance, where the colorful trees were swaying on the campus.

"Pleeaasee" Alice tried again. "It would be just one date."

Your hands were wrapped around a hot coffee to go, fumbling with it.

"I don't even know him though. Blind dates are stupid."

"But..." Alice leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "It wouldn't be for free."

"What?" You laughed out, slapping her on the arm. "Where are your morals?"

"Morals? I hardly know her!" She laughed. "But I'm serious. I would pay you for it. And for the gas too."

"You must really love your brother then."

"I guess, if you want to call it that...." Alice hesitated, her gaze trailing off into the distance.

"So, uhh, how much were you thinking?"

"Oh, so you are taking it into consideration!" Your friend whipped around, excitement in her eyes.
"Just give me a number, girl. This, uhm, this month is a little tight with rent and utilities. It's tough, not gonna lie.

"Oh dear." Alice gave you a genuinely compassionate glance, then lowered her eyes. "What do you think of... A friendship price of... One thousand dollars?"

"One thousand dollars?!" You gasped out, staring at her with shock. One thousand dollars would not only save your ass this month, but easily get you through the next one or two was well. "Alice that is insane. Why would you do that for me?"

She shrugged her shoulders, a mellow smile on her pale face "I mean you'd do something for me too, so... And you're my friend, so, I wouldn't mind helping you out with money."

You knew Alice and her brother had received a large inheritance when their parents died. She didn't have struggles like you, and whilst you didn’t wish to be in her position, you were jealous of her, in a way. It must be so nice, having no worries on how to make it to the next month.

"Aaww" you were genuinely touched, but didn't believe she truly meant the offer. "But, for real, a thousand bucks for a date with your brother? Is he that ugly?!"

Your friend burst out laughing. "No, not at all. Well, from what I can tell. It's weird calling your own brother handsome, but I think he is."

"Then why does he have trouble dating?"

"He is... Different. Difficult."

"You're really selling it to me, I see" you giggled, still not taking Alice offer entirely serious.

"Henry lives an extremely reclusive life, you see? He is extremely introverted, doesn't really like humans at all, I believe."

"Then what makes you think he even wants to go on a date?"

"We don't phone very often, but when we do, he's always on my ear about how miserable and lonely he is, how he will never have a girlfriend because no one likes him anyway."

"You're really not making it sound inviting, Ally. What do you expect me to do with him?"

"You could take him for dinner. Go on a walk, have a chat. Whatever you want, really."

"Okay but why me?"

"You're cute, you're pretty? You're nice and empathetic? I know he's gonna like you." Alice nudged you with the elbow, a smile in her voice, and the compliments hit a soft spot inside you. "Please, he's the only family I have. I know it would mean something to him."

You sighed, felt sorry for both of them, knowing their horrible family history. It must have taken a toll on both of their characters, having their mother fall ill and die unexpectedly, only to find out she had a secret past of heavy drug abuse and the long-term effects had finally gotten the better of her. And then, not very much later when they were both still teenagers, the father had died from suicide, found in the attic, his neck snapped, a torn rope hanging from the beams.

Another heavy sigh later, the blissful image of your financial problems disappearing on your mind, you felled a decision. "Okay, fine..."

"Oh great!!! Thank you. You're literally the best and I'll call him right away when I get home."

"But it's only one date, okay? And he shouldn’t get his hopes up too much. I don’t want this to be awkward."

"Yes, one date! And I meant it with the thousand dollars. I want you to have them." Alice leaned over and gave you a cuddle, and you wondered just where the catch was.

What you were going to do was morally questionable, yes, that was for sure. You were selling yourself for a date and accepting an ungodly amount of (much-needed) money from your friend. But if Henry looked cute and was somewhat nice, why actually not?

 It was only one date after all...

Part 1

Four days ago, Alice had called him, shrieking with that annoying girls’ voice, to tell him that she had ‘found a date for him’. First, Henry thought she was playing a bad joke on him, and he had yelled her down angrily for shitting on his feelings and making fun of his miserable life. But then her voice had gotten all whiny and after asking her again and again and again if she was serious, he had apologized profusely once he realized that she truly meant it.

Ever since that day, Henry was a nervous wreck. His guts were a flurry of butterflies and he frequently found himself feeling nauseous, his hands always jittery, his heartbeat fast even though his date wasn’t even here yet.

Henry had cleaned the whole house, from the basement to the attic, even the cobwebs. He wasn’t going to risk scaring his date away by keeping his spiders around. The spiders would return, but his date wouldn’t, and Henry wanted this day (that he had been anticipating for what felt like a lifetime) to be nothing short of perfect. He was so desperate, it felt like his heart was bleeding for affection.

He wanted to have it like the couples on TV who lied in each other’s arms and kissed until their kisses drew them to the bedroom. Henry yearned for – and at first, he had had a hard time accepting that new desire in him – intimacy. How nice would it be to have someone around to keep him the company that he needed? Someone who was quiet and pensive like he was, his perfect match, who would look him in the eyes with devotion and say: “Henry, you are perfect to me.”

With every day that he didn’t have that person around (that idolized person, that only existed in his mind, a manifestation of his dreams and desires), he was dying a little bit more. It hurt to breathe when he was all alone. The empty house was killing him alive, and yet he could picture himself in no other place than here, where he always had been, where time somehow stood still.

Alice had told him not to do any weird stuff when his date comes over. God, how much he hated her – little Miss Perfect, always Mommy’s and Daddy’s favorite child. But at least she had helped him pick an outfit and plan a nice evening. One that you wouldn’t find weird. And it honestly didn’t sound so bad. You were going to go on a walk around the colorful autumn woods behind the house and then cook dinner together. Alice had even slipped him one of your favorite recipes, and in that moment, he wanted to kiss her on the head.

Besides the cleaning, Henry had cooked and practiced that recipe at least a dozen times (continuously forcing himself to grab the kitchenware without his powers), and he had tortured himself in front of the mirror for hours, overanalyzing every bone and every birthmark. Would you even find him pretty? Or would you turn your face away with disgust and pity him? He had no one to compare himself to, except for the actors on TV, and those seemed very different from him, most being somewhat tanned, packed with muscles and wearing perfect smiles.

Henry was pale and skinny, and he didn’t even know what his smile looked like. He had practiced in the mirror, but despite his best efforts, he still thought it looked alien on him.

Four days ago, Alice had called him. And today was the day.

He had spent an hour in the bathroom to prepare himself. His face was clean-shaven and every single coiffed curl was brushed in place on top of his head. He had even applied a spritz of the perfume he had bought just for today and trimmed every body hair that he thought needed trimming - because you never knew.

Ever since he was done, he was sitting in the main hall, bobbing his leg relentlessly, eyes continuously glued on the grandfather clock which was about to strike 2pm, the designated time. It felt like someone was choking his heart with brute fists, squeezing the muscle so hard, he thought he must be about to faint.

But then Henry’s heart jumped out of his chest when the doorbell rang. You were a couple minutes early, and he was dying a thousand deaths at once, each more painful than the other one. His face almost fell apart with anxiety as he approached the front door; a vague silhouette waiting behind the stained glass.

The man’s hands tremored when he turned the handle, inviting the autumn winds into his home, and when his gaze fell on you, he fell in love, because you were perfect.

And when you wrapped your arms around him, he knew he was in heaven, and you were an angel.

-

You still found it a little weird to spend this date at Henry’s house and not at the movie theatre or a café, but for one thousand dollars, you weren’t going to be picky.

As you approached the stained-glass door, the entrance to an impressive but run-down Victorian mansion, all the nervousness you had been lacking throughout the 2-hour car ride came crashing down on you, and your heart hammered in your chest.

Suddenly, you found yourself growing insecure over your outfit. You had decided against going all in, not wanting to send the wrong signal, so you had settled on flattering pullover, a nice pair of slacks and a pair of ankle boots – the ones with a little bit of heel to accentuate your body shape.

With shaky hands, you smoothed down the fabric and inevitably noticed the horribly overgrown front yard as you closed in on the house. You could only hope and pray that the insides were not as run down. There was no use in putting off the evil hour, so you stepped on the porch and rang the bell. Quickly, a tall shadow emerged on the other side, and you found your heart beating faster than you liked.

Finally, the door swung open.

You weren’t sure what you had expected to see, because Alice didn’t have a recent photo to show you, but it was not this. Deep down, you had been expecting some incel, average-looking at best, because what could you expect from someone who cried to their sister about how lonely they were and how they could never get a date?

But the man on the other side of the door was drop-dead-gorgeous. It was hard to believe that the person before you was Alice Creel’s reclusive brother and not some actor from a Hollywood movie.

And since he was Alice’s little brother, he had to be around your age, but he looked older somehow. There was a sharpness in his features that made him look very mature. That combined with the nest of perfectly styled blonde curls and sea-blue eyes gave him the look of a Cherub, and something in your chest fluttered noticeably, melting almost.

Suddenly feeling infinitely more jittery, you tossed your original plan to shake his hand hello aside and introduced yourself with a nervous smile, then spread your arms awkwardly and stepped forward to give him a brief but friendly hug, perceiving a pleasant waft of perfume which did nothing to ease your nerves.

“H-Hi, I-I’m H-Henry” the man introduced himself and you noticed he had a pleasant voice that wavered with nervousness, cracking slightly at the end. For some reason, it gave you a small confidence boost. If this gorgeous man was nervous, you didn’t have to be.

-

The pair of you emerged in the living room, both keeping your hands awkwardly folded in front of your bodies. To your great relieve, the house interior was much tidier than you had expected. The furniture may be old, but it still looked classy and the floors and counters were swept clean.

Your eyes fell on the coffee table where a huge bouquet stood in a curved vase, containing reds and yellows and oranges, like the autumn forest condensed into a beautiful arrangement of flowers.

Henry sensed your gaze on the bouquet and cleared his throat. “I got these for you.”

You reminded yourself of your original plan: Be friendly, but not too friendly. Act sweet but not too sweet. Give compliments but not too many.

“Oh, wow, thank you! These are really pretty, and so many of them. They must have been expensive.” There was a mild pang in your chest, mind jumping over to your payment upon the word ‘expensive’.

“N-Not at all, no, they weren’t.” Henry didn’t remember how much they had cost, only how much effort it had taken him to leave the house and speak to the clerk at the flower shop. But knowing you liked them made it all worth it, and he vowed to buy an even bigger bouquet next time. His heart hammered wildly with relief, but then it skipped three beats when you turned around and eyed him up and down.

 “I guess I’m a little underdressed” you chuckled, marveling at the man’s outfit. He wore a pearl white dress shirt, neatly ironed, buttoned up to his pale throat, a pair of dark grey pleated pants and polished dress shoes; Like he was about to put a record on that old gramophone in the corner and sweep you up for a dance.

“O-oh, n-no, absolutely not. You look very beautiful.” Henry stammered a compliment and found it impossible to breathe while your gaze lasted on him, dearly yearning to tear the top buttons of his shirt open to cool himself down.

“Aw, thank you!” You smiled, cheeks warming faintly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” Which was an understatement but you needed to keep a polite distance.

Henry could have dropped dead on the spot, and he was sure his face must be blushing and twitching like that of an idiot. The fact that you had actually complimented him was unfathomable to him, so he stuttered his thanks and anxiously rambled about how glad he was that you had come.

“I, uhh, I’m really nervous, sorry.” He confessed, and immediately wanted to punch himself in the face for saying that. The people in the movies never made confessions like that. They all flirted with no effort, but Henry wasn’t like that. He had never known small talk, let alone with a beautiful person like you. He hadn’t talked with anyone for years, except with his sister on the phone and the salesmen at the mall, when it was unavoidable.

“Oh, don’t worry about it” you reassured him, and Henry was in the mood to drop on his knees and thank you, because he was sure he had never talked to a kinder person in his life. “I’m a little nervous too. I’m sure it will go away over time.” You swayed back and forth on your heels, wearing an awkward smile.

“S-So, would you like to go on a walk?” Henry blurted out, clinging to the structured plan he had created in his mind like a lifeline, because how else was he going to pull through this day without making a fool of himself?

“Yes, absolutely. I would love to.” You smiled at him brightly, and his churning mind eased a little.

-

With a blue sky above, the colors of the forest were rich and vibrant, and the winds gently tugged on the leaves, sending some of them spiraling high into the air before guiding them to their tumbled descend to the ground.

While you had left your jacket in the car, Henry had wrapped a thin scarf around his neck and flung a coat around his shoulders that reached down to the mid of his thighs, leaving it unbuttoned. He looked undeniably elegant and you caught yourself checking out his straight posture and appealing body shape. Even when the wind ruffled his coiffed hair, he still looked picture-perfect – Maybe even more than before.

There was a narrow path leading around the house, trailing along the forest edge, across meadows and back into the woods; the saturated sky always glimpsing through the leafage invitingly. At first, you walked in silence, and the path’s narrowness made for a forced closeness that you found yourself not minding at all.

You could tell Henry was mulling thoughts, and with every side-glance you saw his face tensing up a little more, like he was tortured by not knowing what to say. So, you awkwardly took the reins.

“So, uhm, what do you do for a living?” You broke the silence that you personally hadn’t minded at all. Henry snapped into it, almost jumping at the sound of your voice.

“I, well, uh, I don’t do anything right now. As you’ve probably heard from my sister, our parents have left us quite the sum.”

“Oh, I see. Well, fair enough.” You wished you could say the same about your own financial situation, but you decided not to address any of your own struggles. ‘Don’t give away too much information.’

It seemed like Henry was wrestling his inner foe with brute fists, but eventually he found the courage to speak again. “So, if you don’t mind, may I ask… Why a-are you here? I’m sure a b-beautiful person like you can easily find a date who doesn’t live two hours away.”

You stiffened for a millisecond, feeling the burning shame in your skeleton. ‘Calm’, you instructed yourself. ‘We’ve practiced this.’

“Aw, you’re flattering me, but I’m not that beautiful at all. And, you know, dating is hard, even over there in the city. I, uh, I went on a few dates but it never really went well. So, when Alice told me about you, I thought ‘why not’. I thought you sounded very nice.” You hoped this reply was adequate – Not too far-fetched, not too flirty, but friendly enough.

“What did she say about me?”

“She mentioned you are rather introverted. The ‘quiet type’ so to say. I like that in a person.” The truth was, that Alice didn’t have very much to say about her brother. She couldn’t even tell you what he liked to do in his free time, only that the he never talked much.

To put the cherry on top, you tilted your head to face him, setting up your most convincing smile to cover up the lie; the smile that you had been practicing in the mirror. While it was succeeding at veiling the lie, it failed at calming your guilty conscience.

Henry, however, melted entirely under your gaze, and the corners of hips pink lips twitched into a disbelieving smile that you found unusually excited for this fairly nondescript reply of yours.

Meanwhile, the man’s mind was spinning circles in his head, encouraged by your sweet response. Since this was a date, wasn’t he supposed to take your hand? The mere thought rendered his knees wobbly, and he almost fell over a root buried under fallen leaves. He wanted to hold your hand, craved nothing more than to feel your skin slide against his, but he couldn’t.

What if you rejected him, hated him for doing the wrong thing at the wrong time? How could he possibly know when time was right? The more he pondered, the faster his heart hammered, cold sweat on his body, forcing him to give up on the idea.

So, he just walked without taking action, grieving his lack of courage and confidence, until suddenly your voice chimed in his ears again.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

“I…” Henry thought hard, and all of a sudden it was like he had forgotten who he was, couldn’t remember a single thing about himself. He was silent for embarrassingly long, until finally one thing came to mind, one of the things Alice had strictly forbidden him to tell. “I like spiders.”

“Oh! Cool.”

“Really? You think that’s cool?” Henry jumped with surprise, whipping his head around to train his eyes on you, basking in your mildly surprised gaze. Oh, what a wondrous person you were. Where had you been all his life?

“Sure, why not?” You gave a mellow shrug. It’s not like you were especially interested in spiders, but Henry practically seemed to beam after your comment, almost glowing with exhilaration.

The mood shifted after that, and you sensed that some of the anxiety had fallen off his shoulders.

He continued telling you about spiders, which you found quite endearing, even though you could not relate. You gave an occasional nod or chuckle, posed a question when you thought it was adequate, and all of a sudden reclusive Henry who allegedly didn’t like humans was able to talk a mile in a minute.

Henry hardly noticed how time passed and clouds whizzed by as he talked about his favorite animal; all he knew was that he was so incredibly happy, potentially the happiest he had ever been since he could think. You seemed so interested in his spiders, and Henry had never met a person who even wanted to listen to him talk about them for half a minute without pulling a disgusted face. You however, looked up at him with the loveliest smile and he never wanted this walk to end.

A cold breeze rustled the trees, and from the corner of the eye he noticed you shudder from the cold and wrap your arms around yourself. In a heartbeat, he jumped into action like he had been waiting all his life for this opportunity, having learned what to do from countless movies.

“A-Are you freezing?” He asked, and without even waiting for your reply, he tugged the coat off his shoulders. Suddenly, all of the nervousness resurfaced, and he stood awkwardly, coat in hand, heart hammering wildly.

“Yes, a little” you admitted and felt the heat crawl into your cheeks and the butterflies into your stomach. With every passing minute, that Henry Creel became sweeter and sweeter, and you hadn’t planned on that.

Your eyes were so big, and prettier than the Moon’s disk when you returned his gaze with rosy cheeks. “Would you like to have my coat?” Henry mumbled, fighting not to crumble under your sight.

“If you don’t mind…” You replied shyly, face growing warmer when he eagerly shook his head and stepped around you. The tips of his long fingers grazed your shoulders when he carefully draped the coat around you, his gentle touch lingering for just a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

Your breath hitched in your throat a little and you didn’t dare look him in the pretty eyes as you muttered your thanks, lowering your head to hide the heat in your cheeks. The scent of his perfume lingered faintly on the fabric, and despite your better judgement, you thought you fell for him in that moment.

The pair of you continued to walk in silence, leaves crunching under your feet, the spiders forgotten, and both of you were focused on the tightness in your chests. That fluttering feeling that ached and twisted, but then again it was the most beautiful sensation, both physically and mentally.

Henry’s mind was racing, when suddenly seizing your hand didn’t seem so unlikely anymore, but still terribly scary. It was right there, by the side of your body, only a few inches away. In that moment he wished a kind stranger with powers like his would simply snatch his hand and guide it towards yours, because moving it on his own seemed like an impossible task.

You wouldn’t reject him, Henry desperately tried to convince himself, reciting a mental pep talk. This was a date after all, you had his coat around your shoulders and you looked happy. You wouldn’t reject him. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t try.

Finally, he closed that tiny gap between you and brushed his fingers against yours, feeling that they were cold. For a horrible moment, you flinched with surprise and he was terrified you were going to pull away, but then you leaned into his touch, lacing your smaller fingers with his longer ones, and Henry was in heaven once more.

Even though your hands were cold, he felt like there was some ethereal warmth pouring from your hand into his, and he realized it had to be love. There could be no other reason for a simple touch feel this beautiful. Dwelling in the seventh heaven, he lightly squeezed your hand, delighted when you squeezed his too and ran your thumb over the back of it.

Henry cursed himself for not having found the courage in him sooner, because suddenly his house emerged in the distance. He could have spent this entire walk, reveling in the bliss that your small hand in his brought, if he hadn’t been such a coward.

All he could do now was enjoy it while it lasted, and your affection felt like a dream to him. He would trade the feel of spider legs on his hand forever if he could hold your hand instead, and just a few years prior, he had never deemed this possible – to be in love. To crave someone he had just barely met so much, that his heart was already splintering to pieces when remembered that you were going to drive away again in the evening.

-

The evening went by in a flash, and you genuinely enjoyed this date with Henry Creel.

Talking with him felt almost lighthearted, as if you had known each other for much longer than just a couple hours. The longer you looked, talked and giggled, the warmer your heart felt, despite the occasional slightly overenthusiastic compliment from him. He just seemed like someone who had watched too many movies, and in the course of the evening, you learned that it was indeed one of his favorite activities.

Around 6pm, Henry lead you to the kitchen, and naturally you wanted to help cooking, but he stubbornly denied you, saying it was supposed to be a surprise. Reluctantly, but with a smile on your face, you ultimately gave into his wish and watched him from the kitchen chair.

Inconspicuously, your gaze lingered on the back of his blonde, fluffy head, trailing downwards to his relatively broad shoulders and then even lower to his slim waist. Something about the way he worked with the kitchen knife did something to you. In your head, you saw yourself wrapping your arms around him from behind, but you stayed strong, a feeble voice reminding you of your ‘job’ here.

The pleasant smell of herbs and spices met your nose, and once you realized what he was making, you knew Alice had her fingers in the pie, but you didn’t mind it at all. Once you put the first bite in your mouth, you realized Henry had somehow cooked this dish better than you ever had.

You ate and talked and laughed, sat across from each other, arms on the table, eyes glistening until the skies went dark and only the street lamps from outside sent light into the cozy kitchen because neither of you wanted to get up and turn the light switch.

Despite all the fun throughout the evening, Henry just couldn’t find a natural opportunity to seize your hand again for the life of him. All this time while he was looking at you talk, seeing your lovely smile, he knew he wanted to be so much closer to you than this. His gaze dropped to your lips, watched how they parted as you spoke, lingered on your tongue in the cavity of your mouth, barely visible in the darkness, and the butterflies in his stomach dropped into his guts.

If only he dared to, he could slide his foot towards yours underneath the table, or pick up your hand again. That would do nothing to smother these other urges that were sprouting so vehemently in him, but it would be something.

Just as he was mustering up all his courage to pull off a move and somehow progress this beautiful evening, the loud chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway tore your attention away from him. Your eyes grew wide with realization when they fell on your wristwatch, and with an afflicted gaze, you let him know that it was time to go.

Only with utter reluctance, he led you to the door, although his mind desperately fought against the thought of your departure. Since your coat was in the car, all that was left for you to do was put on your shoes and grab your purse. And there you stood, ready to leave already. How had this day passed so quickly? Hadn’t he been sitting in the main hall, waiting for you, bobbing his leg with anxiety just a minute ago?

“Alright then” you muttered, a flustered smile on your face. You dearly would have loved to stay, but you had already stayed longer than you should, knowing you would hate yourself tomorrow when you had to get up early in morning.

You felt Henry’s reluctance when he chivalrously opened the door for you, dismissing you into the windy night. But suddenly, before you could turn around, he seized your hand and brought it up to his face, kissing the back of it goodbye like some prince from a fairytale. Your cheeks warmed, heart spinning somersaults in your chest, and the butterflies multiplied within a second, leaving you undeniably and inevitably smitten with the man named Henry Creel.

“When will I see you again?” He mumbled against your hand and did not let go of it when he lowered it back down, holding it gently, almost needily.

This moment would have been horribly awkward for you, if you stuck to the plan. A nightmare of shame and stammered excuses because this was only supposed to be one date. But to your own surprise, you found the following words incredibly easy to utter: “What do you think of… Next week, on Sunday, same time?”

“Next week on Sunday, same time.” He repeated, his face glowing with relief and sadness at once. Henry cried out internally, cheering because thank God you wanted to see him again, but mourning because he would have to wait eight whole days for it.

“Thank you for the wonderful day. I had a lot of fun.”

“Y-Yeah m-me too, y--you’re so welcome. Drive safely, please.”

You promised you would, and gently slipped your hand out of his. During the walk to the car, you turned back multiple times to smile and wave him goodbye and Henry could have started crying right then, feeling his heart cracking with every step you took away from him.

Eventually, you got in the car and rolled out of the driveway, onto the street and waved once more. He tried to permanently etch the image of your smile into his brain, the way you sat behind the car window. When the backlights of your car finally disappeared in the night, Henry started releasing his tears, because now you were gone, and from today on, he knew his lonesome days were going to feel impossibly lonelier until you returned.

Intermezzo

“Soooo, how was it?” Alice voice chimed from the receiver and you got comfortable on the bed, head propped against the pillows.

“It was very nice, actually!” A silly smile grew on your face and you found yourself playing with the phone cord, battling the awkwardness of talking about Alice’s brother with her.

“So, he didn’t do anything weird?” She seemed surprised, maybe even alarmed.

“What do you mean by weird?”

“Oh, you know…” Alice mumbled a string of incomprehensible words into the receiver and fumbled with the cord too, twisting it around her nervous fingers, thinking of rodents in snare traps and the levitating objects that her brother had hurled at her when they were kids. “Forget about it.”

“We, uh, held hands, if that falls under your definition of weird. He didn’t try to get into my pants, if that’s what you mean.” Your turned flaming hot and you were glad your friend wasn’t in the room with you.

“Jesus, no! I don’t want to know any of that.” Repelled, Alice held the receiver away from her for a moment, cringing at the mental image.

“Yeah, well, it was really fun. We went on a walk and had dinner, like you initially suggested. Maybe we are going to watch a movie next time.”

A moment of long and deadly silence followed and you almost wanted to ask if she was still there, but then Alice spoke again, her voice sounding incredibly tense. “So, you… actually want to see him again?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Oh…” Alice’s tone was hesitant, almost disappointed, laced with something she would later identify as regret. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You chuckled, not understanding her gloomy mood. Wasn’t this what she wanted? For her solitary brother to find some happiness? Wasn’t that the whole point of it? “Is that so hard to believe? He was very sweet and polite.”

“Okay, well, if you think so… Are you sure? Are you sure he didn’t-?” She choked her own words off. “Ugh, you know what, forget about it. I’m glad you guys had fun. I can’t pay for a second date though. I hope you understand.”

“Aww, of course, I know. You literally saved my skin this month. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Working night shifts at the drive-through.” She laughed bitterly, her humor fake because of the dreadful weight of foreboding in the pit of her stomach.

“No need to do me like that” you replied with a heartfelt giggle and rolled to the side, twirling the phone cord around your finger more, mind drifting back to your date with Henry Creel and his soft, blue eyes.

Part 2

You thought of Henry a lot that week, but little did you know he was thinking so much harder of you. Whilst your days and nights were filled with classes, work and studying, his were made of pacing, thinking, planning, daydreaming, because that’s all there was to do around Creel Manor with too much time on your hand, spent all alone.

At times, you considered asking Alice for his phone number, but then again you thought maybe it was better to take it one step at a time, keep your focus together until you knew if this was truly something serious. However, when you went to bed in the evenings, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have his voice in your ear right now. What would he say to you? Would be sweet and shy? Or would he perhaps venture something flirtier and tell you all the things he’d love to do to you? You found your face heating fiercely at the thought, a certain tightness in your core that wouldn’t go away until you fell asleep.

During class you noticed Alice was quieter these days. It wasn’t like she was actively avoiding you, but you could tell she was in her head, so you let her be and bought her a coffee every now and then, knowing it was absurd because technically it was her money you paid with. You were forever in her debt, although she wanted to hear none of it.

Henry thought he had lost maybe a pound or two since your last visit. The longing was quite literally eating him away, robbing him of his appetite because all he did was daydream and worry. What if something happened to you while you were away? What if you met someone who was nicer than him, prettier? What if you wouldn’t come, change your mind?

If only you lived in Hawkins, then he could see you every single day.

He had contemplated asking his sister for your phone number, but then again, he didn’t want to ask his sister for anything, didn’t want to make it seem like he needed her help. He hadn’t asked for her help either when he complained about being lonely. All he wanted was to rant (admittedly, he had been doing so for quite a few months), and then all of a sudden, she had found a date for him.

Henry still wondered how she had done it, and why. There seemed no logical reason why a beautiful creature like you would choose someone like him, but you had.

To somehow survive the waiting, Henry had busied himself around the house and now it was cleaner than ever, even the basement and attic, every floor board polished, every tile shiny, and a whole battery of movies lent from the video store waiting by the TV. Tomorrow morning, before your arrival, he would buy an even bigger bouquet than list time, like he had vowed.

Until then, all there was left to do was lie down and wait for the hours to pass.

-

Looking back, the week had gone by in a whizz. Caught up in an endless circle of waking, eating, working, studying and sleeping, there was not much time for excessive yearning. Today was your only day off, and you looked forward to spending it with Henry, although the two-hour drive was getting on your last nerve as it stretched into a three-hour and then into a four-hour one. Somewhere on the road ahead a car crash had taken place, and the traffic had come to an indefinite halt.

When the town sign of Hawkins finally rolled past you, the anger about the traffic jam had taken your nervousness about the upcoming date entirely. Instead of anxiety, all you felt was relieve when you finally climbed off the driver’s seat and popped your bones, feeling the pleasantly cool wind on your face.

You found the outfit you had chosen today a tad more exciting than that from the first date. Pullover and waist belt created a flattering faux hourglass silhouette, and the layered skirt swayed nicely around your shins, where your lace-up boots vanished under the hem. It was a pretty autumn look that you had put a lot of thought into.

The skirts fluttered around your calves as you slammed the car door shut and hurried towards the mansion, feeling awful about the big delay. Even before you got to set foot on the porch, the door was yanked open and Henry emerged, looking pale as a ghost and sick with worry.

“Hey” you greeted ruefully. “I’m so sorry, but the traffic got me. It was horrible on the road. There was a car crash and-”

“I-, I thought you wouldn’t come” Henry blurted out, and the tremor in his voice gave him away, as did the redness in his puffy eyes. You had felt awful before, but now you felt simply horrible. The poor man had gotten all dressed up with nowhere to go, and you had left him waiting for hours.

Instead of the semi-cordial greeting embrace you had given on the porch last time, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him close to your chest.

When Henry folded into your embrace, it felt like a part of him deflated and the surge of fury and worry that had caused him to demolish one of the vacant rooms upstairs dwindled in an instant and he felt oddly at peace. He would have to clean up the havoc before your next visit, and keep you away from the first floor until then. But for now, he rested in your arms and wrapped his own around your waist, pulling you so close that you were forced to arch your back against his taller frame.

In your soothing embrace, a placid happiness filled Henry’s chest, and although the skies promised rain, he felt like sunshine.

“I would never flake out on you just like that.” You promised into the crook of the man’s neck, feeling light-headed in the aura of his cologne. “I’m not like that.”

Even though the sun was already standing low, a hazy glow in the air, filtered by thickening clouds, you decided to go on a walk like you had planned to. Henry seemed almost sad that you had brought your coat this time, but he said nothing, only seized your hand with a shy smile and started walking, an umbrella dangling from his free hand.

Not even ten minutes and a couple shy words later, the umbrella had to be called into action, as the thick clouds burst open, releasing a shower of rain on the forests below. Whilst hand-holding was a challenge now, you were given the opportunity to loop your arm around his and snuggle up close, making sure the umbrella covered you.

Soon, however, the shower turned into a thunderous storm, stirring up the wildly dancing leaves, nearly tearing the umbrella out of Henry’s hand. Eventually, he saw himself forced to give up as the wind had already snapped two of its spines. The rain struck you in the face almost like a solid wall, and you were soaked to the bones within seconds.

Whilst this was far from the perfect date Henry had planned, he found himself not minding the intervention of nature. Something was welling in his throat and he realized it was laughter. When he let it burst free, you did the same and seized his hand. The pair of you darted across the field, giggling your hearts out as mud sloshed around your feet and calves.

When you finally clambered onto the porch, you were out of breath, face hot from running. Even with his hair and clothes drenched, Henry still looked utterly breathtaking as he swept wet curls out of his face and fumbled with the keys, his chest heaving from disbelieving laughter.

Inside, he took your coat and profusely promised that you were allowed to set your dirty boots down on the shiny floorboards. Henry looked at you, and he was utterly in love with you, even more so than before. His chest still glowed with exhilaration from the sprint back home, your hand in his. It was like life had given him a glimpse of what carefree joy could feel like, and you were the first and only person he had ever experienced it with.

Shyly, you asked for a place where you could get cleaned up, and Henry led the way to the master bathroom, telling you to take your time after insistently reminding you not to wander about the first floor.

There went your perfectly planned outfit, you realized once you encountered your miserable reflection in the mirror, all caked with dirt and utterly soaked with rain. Some of the dirt had even sloshed up to your face, leaving an unsightly pattern on your skin. Disgustedly, you peeled the ruined clothes off your body and tossed them into the sink where you scrubbed at the stains with a bar of soap, rubbing them out as best as you could.

While poorly fixing your make-up and drying your hair, you flung your clothes over the bathroom heater, hoping it would get the job done quickly. The thought of having to ask for one of Henry’s sweaters to wear (if he owned any) surely was enticing, but you didn’t think you were so far in already.

The fluttery fabric of your skirt dried thankfully fast, so you slipped back on when you were done. Only the sweater still seemed just as drenched as before. Peeking outside cautiously, you spotted a neatly folded pile of clothes in front of the door and a silly smile split your face in half. You picked up a knitted sweater from the pile, flustered like a schoolgirl when you pulled it over your head.

Finally, you returned to the ground floor, arms awkwardly folded over the unfamiliar garment you were wearing, you found Henry perfectly cleaned up and changed and dinner ready. How he had accomplished all of that in so little time defied your imagination.

-

Unlike last time, you moved it to the living room after dinner where an invitingly comfortable couch, decorated with pillows and blankets, waited for the pair of you. The setup practically screamed for cuddling and snogging in the dark and your heart made a leap.

You didn’t care much for the movies Henry had picked, although you smiled and nodded interestedly as he presented each cassette to you. All were fine with you since you already knew, the movie was only going to fulfill its purpose of background noise whilst both of your minds furiously drifted around each other’s lips. Who would pluck up courage first?

You felt like a teenager in love when you finally snuggled up on the couch and practically sank against the soft pillows. Immediately, you drifted into a state of deep relaxation, smiling when Henry took a seat on the other end of the couch and draped a blanket over both of you. How could it be that after only two dates you already felt so comfortable around him? Pulling your feet up on the couch and curling yourself up on your side almost felt natural, like you were relaxing at your own home.

During the first quarter of the movie, you actually paid somewhat attention, or at least pretended to. However, your feet were gradually inching closer towards Henry who was also pretending to be focused on the movie. In his own mind, thoughts and ideas were tripping over one another, frantically trying to figure out a way to progress. He couldn’t just ask you to cuddle, could he? Was a proposal like that even acceptable? Lost in deep thought, your sudden question caught him by surprise.

“Can I put my feet on your lap?” You blurted out, hoping the darkness of the room would hide your wildly flustered expression.

“O-O-Of course.”

Happily, you slid your feet on Henry’s thighs, smiling to yourself because the way he had stammered was nothing short of adorable. Meanwhile, Henry softly sucked in air, suppressing the pleasant tremor that wanted to run through his body upon the contact.

Where your feet rested, his nerves seemed on fire, prickling with expectation. Henry desperately tried to wrestle down the feeling, keep himself under control, but you were so close to his -

Suddenly, you wriggled your toes a little, brushing along his inner thigh, and a rush of blood to his nether regions made him grow painfully hard. He wanted to bite his fist, slap himself, because you weren’t supposed to know about this – not yet, that is.

He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him. Were you tormenting him on purpose? With clenched jaws, he blankly stared at the TV screen, not registering a thing as his mind drifted far away. What if you scooted over and placed your hand on his lap instead?  What if you put your head under the covers and wrapped your lips around him, like in his daydreams? The thoughts weren’t helping his problem the slightest bit, and to make matters worse, you kept moving your legs ever so faintly.

You seemed absorbed in the movie, so perhaps the motion was a subconscious thing. Or, you wanted to draw his attention, Henry concluded as he realized his fists were still clenched by his sides when he could very well be touching you.

Breathing fast, he plucked up the courage and placed one hand on your calf, inching along the curve of it with tender caress. Your bare skin felt sublime under his palm and he would have gladly slid higher, felt the warm, soft flesh of your thighs under his fingers, but he didn’t dare go any further than to the mid of your calf.

Finally, you thought. The heat began rising into your belly and settled there, making the movie fade into the background for good. Henry’s nimble fingers left ghostly traces on your leg, igniting your nerve ends in a way that sent an almost painful yearning to your center. You stayed put for a while, focusing on nothing but the gentle caress and the blooming tension in your core, until you couldn’t bear it any longer.

Swiftly, you slid your feet off his lap, sat up, scooted over to sit by his side. He was close enough now to feel the warmth of his body, the fabric of his clothes. Your thighs were right next to each other, touching, and you nervously searched for his hand and laced your fingers through his. The eyes of both of you were glued on the TV without truly watching. A prickle of expectation was in the air, foreboding, and your stomach tumbled with yearning that was both scary and sweet, and you realized you had fallen in love after only two dates. That Henry Creel really was a magnificent person.

You felt his pulse through the palm of his hand, fluttery like yours. You knew for a fact you were thinking of the same thing, and all you’d have to do was turn your head and do it, take what you wanted because clearly, he wanted the same. But then why were you still nervous?

Maybe it was a natural thing, to be nervous, you thought as your fingers danced over his palm with tender caress. To feel your heart hammering up in your throat, you wondered as your free hand traveled around your body and wrapped around Henry’s arm, clutching it to your side as you slowly turned your head, lifting your gaze up at him. His eyes were wide and wondrous, a boyish look on his sharp features, and in that moment, you knew he had never kissed before.

Your eyes, now half-lidded, fell on his parted lips, and you saw the pink in them despite the blueish gleam, brought upon by rays of milky light seeping through the clouds. He looked like a faerie from another world, and more than ever you were convinced he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

In the moonlit night, a gentle rhythm of raindrops on the roof, you finally closed in and placed your lips on his.

Henry gasped, eyelids fluttering shut, and he eagerly fell into your gentle embrace. On this magical night, he finally experienced his first kiss, and it was the most tender and beautiful thing. He had thought holding your hand and being in your arms was heaven on earth, but this – This beat every single one of his expectations and everything his mind and heart had felt so far.

Kissing you tenderly and full of passion, both hands coming to cup your face, Henry was absolutely and irreversibly smitten. If kissing felt like this for every human, he couldn’t understand how couples could ever break up. As his lips moved against yours, he knew he would do anything for you, forever. He would allow no one ever to taste your lips and feel the touch of your hands, craving it all for himself.

Drunk on the taste of you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer than ever. He was drunk on your love which he was certain was there, just like his own love for you. The most gentle moans escaped your lips as you returned his kisses, pushing yourself up against him with need.

Suddenly, your tongue flicked against Henry’s bottom lip, and he easily grasped the cue. With parted lips, he welcomed your tongue against his, and the feeling was so obscenely intimate, he found his abdomen clenching and lower regions swelling with lust. But above all, he was madly in love, so when he broke away shortly to gasp for air, he almost wanted to cry at the sight of your beauty above him, bathed in moonlight.

“I can’t believe you are actually real. I can’t believe I met you.” He breathed dreamily against your mouth; his eyes lost in you, bright like two stars of the Milky Way.

In that moment an arrow of guilt struck you in your enamored chest, and the arrow head found a place between your ribs where it would remain wedged and hurting until you revealed the truth to him – That Alice had paid you to be here. You hadn’t come here because you thought he sounded nice and you were looking for a partner, you had come here for quick money, fully aware that his feelings were on the line.

Your motions grew stiff and reluctant, because suddenly there was nothing you could focus on but the guilt gnawing so painfully on your heart. Feeling awful, you peeled your lips of Henry’s and pretended to turn for the clock – Anything to gain a tiny bit of distance from the steamy situation. When you noticed the time, however, you were actually shocked, practically leaping off the couch.

“Fuck, when did it get so late?!” You cursed and hectically darted across the room to gather your things.

“H-Hey, what’s the matter? It’s only 10pm, l-let’s finish the movie, hm?” You picked out the hurt and uncertainty in his voice immediately, but now was not the time to dwell on it, not when you had to get up at 6am in the morning tomorrow.

“I have class tomorrow, and it’s a two-hour drive. Unless another genius decides to have a car crash in the rain, then it’ll be four.” Rambling, you sprinted off to the master bathroom to gather the rest of your clothing from the heater.

-

The pair of you stood on the porch and Henry’s lip was trembling near uncontrollably. He wanted to offer that you could stay the night, spend it with him. He wanted to beg you, in fact. Beg you to stay, to never leave him, but no words came out.

“Do we see each other again, next week? On Sunday again, perhaps?” You proposed, scorching warmth your cheeks.

“But it’s so many days until then. Can’t you come earlier?”

“I wish I could” you confessed uneasily, truly wishing you could. “But I have work and classes.”

“Then why not Saturday?” Then you could stay the night, he thought, feeling a desperate frenzy right in his chest, oozing down into his stomach.

“I… I have to work late on Saturday. I’m really sorry.” You really were, but you were glad to have time to think as well and construct the perfect plan to confess your misdoings to him.

“Then I’ll see you on Sunday.” Henry confirmed, nodding his head low in devout manner, infusing his words with the severity of a vow forged under the moonlight.

But before you turned to leave, Henry’s hands were back on you and he yanked you close, devouring your mouth with kisses, and you nearly drowned in them. Your knees grew weak until you hung in his embrace like a limp doll, held upright solely by the strength of his arms. He kissed you like he wanted to etch the memory of his affection so deeply into your brain, that you had no other choice than to return to him. And unbeknownst to you, this was exactly what he wanted.

“Keep the sweater, okay?” Henry hummed, pointing at the garment you had completely forgotten. “And think of me when you wear it.” A fierce warmth erupted all over your ears and neck upon that.

When he finally released you from the intoxicating embrace, it was only a thousand times harder to say your farewell, and the work-filled week ahead seemed almost unbearably long.

Like last time, Henry watched with sorrow as you drove away and the backlights of your car grew tiny in the distance, only that his sorrow was a million times bigger tonight. And even when you were long gone and there was nothing to see but the dark woods, rustling in the winds, he still stood on the porch and stared.

And stared and stared and thought.

Intermezzo

“Hello? Are you still there?” Confused, you listened to the faint crackling on the phone, squinting your eyes like it would help you hear better. “Is the line dead? What’s going-”

“No, no, I’m still here.” Alice finally spoke through the shock that had silenced her; her heart beating up to her throat. This was turning into a nightmare. She never should have introduced you to Henry. “I don’t think you should tell him.”

“But I can’t not tell him. I feel totally horrible.”

“I… I seriously don’t think it’s a good idea. Like, not at all.”

“But I don’t want to be a liar. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You see, the thing is, he hates liars. It’s a… pet peeve of his, if you want to call it that.” The truth was so much worse than that, Alice knew. He was going to lose his temper, hurl things around, maybe even furniture – Or worse.

“Okay but doesn’t that give me even more reason to be honest with him now?” You felt confused.

“Yeah, I know what this sounds like.” Alice voice was almost teary now. “But I’ve known him for a little longer and I know he won’t like this. P-Please don’t tell him. Think about it once more, please!”

“Wait, are you afraid he will be mad at you?” Alarmed by her pleading, you sat up on the bed, brows drawn together.

“Yeah, no, well, I am mostly afraid he will be mad at you when you tell him. Maybe something will… change once he knows.” Alice was well aware that Henry would probably be out for her blood once the truth came out. What on earth had planted this stupid idea in her mind? Wanting to be a good sister to him and somehow mend this broken family or what was left of it.

“Aaww, I’m flattered that my love life concerns you so much, but I think I’ll be fine.”

But Alice wasn’t concerned for your love life, she was worried for your life. Only she couldn’t tell you that without sounding crazy.

‘My brother is a psychopath’ she wanted to yell and warn you. ‘My brother has done horrible things, there’s a monster in him, don’t let his looks deceit you!’ But the weight of guilt and shame forced the words down, so they never left her throat.

Henry was her brother after all, and she cared for him, despite everything. If there was a chance for him to be genuinely happy, shouldn’t she do everything for him to have it? Maybe her intuition was wrong, and he would appreciate your honesty and forgive you. And maybe even her.

Nervously, she laughed into the phone: “Haha, yeah, I’m sure you’re right. I… I mean it’s not like I can keep you from telling him, if that’s what you want.”

“Aww, I think I know what makes you so worried. I bet it’s weird to have your friend dating your brother, isn’t it? But everything is going to be okay. I’m glad you introduced us.”

“Yeah, you’re right… That’s it. That’s exactly what I meant. Just do me one favor, okay? Call me when you get back home safely.”

If only she had told you the truth, then.

Part 3

Violent winds tore on the trees surrounding the Victorian Mansion, ripping leaves and branches off. Futilely, you sheltered your face from the winds as you made your way to the porch, all kinds of anxiety and anticipation in your heart.

The stormy weather hadn’t kept you from putting on the cute outfit you had planned to wear. Today’s skirt was shorter, heftily fluttering around your thighs. Wearing a pair of tights underneath certainly would have been more appropriate considering the season, but you had deemed to more practical to keep your legs bare.

Henry opened the door for you, a pink blush already tinting his face, and when you walked inside, it was like both of you already knew what was going to happen today, like you had forged the same plan – Minus the horrible confession that still burned on your heart. With eager anticipation, your eyes flitted over his body and his over yours, taking in every inch of each other’s physique.

The thought of him had been enough to turn your lonely nights hot and bothered for the past week, and the sight of him right in front of you caused even greater trouble in your lower regions.

Today, you wasted no time on going on a walk or cooking. You both knew what you wanted, and when Henry pulled you in his arms, you didn’t hesitate for a moment to put your lips on his. Clumsily, the pair of you stumbled backwards, entangled in stormy kisses, until Henry slumped down on the couch and pulled you with him. Without thinking, you climbed on his lap, straddled his hips while never ceasing to move your lips against his.

With you on top of him, Henry was in heaven, melting under the caress of your lips. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, his hands confidently slid along the curve of your thighs, like he had dreamt of, and he wondered why he had ever been nervous. He eagerly squeezed your flesh, tugged on your waist to pull you close, even palmed your ass for a brief moment.

Quickly, you found an involuntary rhythm of grinding against each other, nudging and thrusting the other one’s center in search for an ease for the burning tightness in your guts. You clearly noticed the solid hardness on Henry’s lap, and with both hands sprawled over his cheeks, you drowned each other in kisses, panting and mewling until the air in the room grew unbearably hot.

You wanted him, and it was so obvious even he didn’t fail to see it.

Teasingly, your hands dropped lower, tracing his collar bones and finding a path down his chest and stomach where his muscles involuntarily twitched under your fingers. Henry shuddered, breathing fast against your mouth. When you broke away from the kiss to confirm he wanted this, you picked out the insecure glint in his eyes, like he was dying to proceed but didn’t know how.

“So, is this your… Your first time?” You asked, feeling nothing but want and empathy for him.

“I, uhh… Yes, it is. I’m… sorry.” He lowered his face, and a good portion of anxiety returned, constricting thorax.

“There’s no need to be, I promise. Give me your hand” you requested, a suggestive smile on your lips, and Henry complied with no backtalk. Lacing your smaller fingers through his, you guided him along the curve of your inner thigh, gliding beneath the skirt. You placed the tips of his fingers right on your center where a hot wetness was blooming. Drawing gentle circles, you guided his motions on your clit. “Right there. Just like this.”

Entirely enraptured, Henry devoutly followed your instructions, eyes flickering from where his hand vanished under your skirt and your flustered expression. The spot beneath his fingers felt soft and damp and the mere thought of burying himself in your wetness caused his cock to jump against the restraint of his pants, begging for freedom and attention.

With furrowed brows, you stared at the gorgeous man beneath you who was so horribly oblivious of the awful truth you were about to bestow on him. Despite - or perhaps because of - the pleasure in your guts, the guilt came boiling to the surface, bubbling and blistering, burning off your throat with every moment of procrastination. Henry looked so utterly blissed-out, so in love, and you were about to put a bullet to his chest.

“Am I, ahh, am I doing this right?” He chuckled nervously, voice cracking harshly as you palmed him over is slacks, feeling along the warm hardness.

“You’re doing perfectly” you reassured him, concealed moans lacing your voice.

Henry palmed your lower regions, slowly inching away from the spot you had shown him. He wanted to experiment, see what other beautiful sounds he could draw from your mouth. His fingers slid to the hem of your panties, eagerly searching for a way under the fabric, and that’s when you finally brought it over your lips, not bearing to keep it in for another fragment of a moment.

“Henry, wait. Wait a second” you gasped against his kissing mouth, butterflies and fear in your stomach. “I need to tell you something b-before we continue.”

Alarmed, Henry paused and wrapped both hands around your hips, a thousand horrible images manifesting in his mind at once, because what could be so important now? But what you confessed to him was worse than anything he had imagined. So much worse.

“I… About our first date. I’m afraid I l-lied to you. The truth is… Your sister p-paid me to go on a date with you.” The moment the words left your throat, there was a shift in the air, like a device was charging up and the ground was dropping beneath your feet.

“She did… what?!” Momentarily, Henry’s grip on you stiffened like a vise and his features froze in a gauntly grimace, eyes torn open wide, and when you looked in them, you were falling into a darkness.

“B-But it was only the first date, I promise! I’m so fucking sorry, but I just needed to tell you. I didn’t want to lie to you. I don’t want this to come between us.” You tried to appease him with your hands on his chest, panic in your heart, seeking his betrayed gaze.

"I should have known" Henry forced through gritted teeth, a broken sob lacing his voice. "Can you believe, I actually thought you liked me for a moment!" He screamed out, his voice sharper than a knife, making you jump with fright, remembering Alice’s words. Maybe something will change once he knows.

“B-But I really like you.” You tried again, talking beseechingly. “I swear I do! Why else would I have come back for a second and a third time?”

“Why does everyone hate me?!” Henry yelled out, nothing human in his voice. “Am I that pitiful? Why does everyone lie to me? So many fucking lies, all my life, I can’t bear this anymore.”

Unspoken panic seized your heart when suddenly there was a presence on your throat, squeezing, tugging.

“What i-is… this?” You rasped hoarsely. “There’s something on my… n-neck.” You whimpered, fingers digging into your own skin to pull whatever there was away, but you found nothing, and that’s when you saw Henry’s hand – bony and white like a skeleton, fingers tense and curled, hovering in the air by your side.

‘So, he didn’t do anything weird?’ You remembered at once, and now you understood.

Something unnatural was happening, something deeply unnatural, and you quaked with fear.

A force hit you in the chest, solid like a rock, and you found yourself being hurled off his lap and into the distance, painfully choking on the air in your lungs. Everything happened so fast, you didn’t even understand what was happening, only that your body hit the floor on the other side of the room, the sharp pain forcing your lips apart for a cry.

Immediately after he had lost his temper, Henry jumped off the couch and to his feet, shaking with regret. He didn’t mean to hurt you, and you looked so small over there on the carpet, and he hated the sounds you were making.

“I’m a freak, I know.” He murmured, his voice feeble now. “An abomination. I bet that’s what my sister told you too.”

You remained on the floor, curled up like an injured rodent on the forest ground, bleeding fear and distress. “What is this?” You whimpered; heart seized with more panic than you had ever felt. Was he a monster? A demon? A warlock?

“It’s who I am” Henry barked out. “I wanted to tell you, but-” He bit his lip, suddenly realizing that he had lied to you as well, and in that moment, deep down underneath the layers of hurt, he forgave you. Now, he only had more reason to try twice as hard to make it up to you.

“How much did she pay you for this pity date?”

“O-One… thousand.” You whimpered, pulling your ashy face from the carpet, your bones aching. If Henry was shocked by the amount, he didn’t show it. Maybe his grasp on money (like Alice’s) wasn’t the same as yours.

"Did you return it?"

"Wh-what?"

"The money! Did you return it to Alice when you realized you liked me?!" His blue eyes were wetter than the ocean now, swimming with hurt and betrayal.

"W-Well, n-n-no, I really struggled with rent that month. I needed it."

"Oh, you...!" His face twisted with fury, every sharp edge looking infinitely sharper, the hollows of his cheeks bathed in shadow. This confession ruined the memory of a beautiful day, the best day of his life, plunging it into humiliation and shame. You must have seen a sorry fucking bastard in him, whilst he had put in all the effort to plan the perfect date, like a complete moron.

“Please, you have to understand what it’s like t-to be poor. I never meant to hurt your feelings, b-but I know what I did was wrong.” You didn’t want to talk about money, or any of this, not when you had just been thrown across the room by his power of will.

"Trouble with rent, you say? I know how to fix that for you.” Henry eyes glowed now, the bright fire of a flash of genius burning in them. “You won't have to pay a cent of rent ever again if you stay here.”

"H-Here?" You asked stupidly, shaking like a brittle tree in the howling winds outside, when suddenly you were being picked up by that same sinister force wielded by Henry’s outflung hand. The presence engulfed you wholly, lifted you in the air so that your toes uselessly scraped against the floor while it reeled you in – towards Henry who stood like a creature of marble, frenzied eyes trained on you.

"Here with me, in my house." The force set you down before him, almost gentle, but your knees dared to give out, so he quickly wrapped his slender arm around you to catch you. When your trembling body fell against his, Henry shuddered with relief and a deluge of tears poured from his sockets, soaked up by your hair as he rested his cheek on the top of your head.

"I, I, I c-can't" you whimpered, horror in your veins, squirming in his embrace. "Because C-College and work are two hours a-away a-and-"

"Oh, it seems like there is a misunderstanding, dear. You are going to s-stay with me and you won't go back. I-” He was choking on tears now, sobbing into your hair. “I can’t let you leave again."

“Wh-What? You don’t mean that. You are joking!” You whimpered, and for a moment every last molecule in your body froze with terror.

“You are going to have a good life here. You will never have to worry about money. I’ll buy you whatever you want, I’ll get you flowers a-and cook for you. All you have to do is be with me.”

“That’s not funny at all, Henry! Let g-go, take your hands off me!” You snapped into it, fighting against his grasp on your waist in a fit of pure dread, and in that moment, Henry’s heart broke for good. You were trampling on the broken pieces of it as you struggled against his loving hold on you and looked at him like you were afraid. Why were you afraid?! All he wanted was to love you.

“If you can’t l-love me for noble reasons, I w-will have to make you.” He whimpered and held you even closer, squeezing you for minutes until you seized the fight and breathed heavily against his chest.

“But I told you I do like you. You have to believe me, please!” You begged for your life, but his decision was final.

While he spoke of love, you spoke of liking him. Henry would have liked to end himself right then and there, but as long as there was still a sliver of a chance to win your heart, he wouldn’t.

Tears streamed down your cheeks when he lifted your face; tears of horror that he just couldn’t understand. Was it because of his powers? Did you see a monster in him already? Henry would have to show you he was not, then. He was going to prove to you that he was gentle and could make you feel good, like you deserved.

“Let’s continue where we stopped, okay?” He asked softly, raw need in his teary voice.

It was your own fault, you realized. Alice had tried to warn you. But ‘Why me?’ you thought. She could have asked any of her friends.

More or less willingly, you sank down on Henry’s lap, letting him pull you with him as he sat back down on the couch.

He felt your affection slipping through his fingers, so he did the only logical thing which was to cling on tighter. He knew you were never going to come back if he let you go now, so he had to keep you and fight for your love; show you how well he could care for you. It was the natural consequence, and he knew it would kill him if he lost you.

So, he poured all of his despair and desire into the kisses he planted on your lips, unable to keep the tears from running. If only you could love him; He would do anything for it.

It took a moment until you returned his kisses, shy and salty, but he wasn’t mad about it, only happy when you kissed him back. He was taking his time with you, didn’t rush you, only gently rocked you in his arms and on his lap, claiming your lips with the sweetest of kisses.

The kisses tasted sour to you, but you returned them. The embrace was like a prison to you, but you stayed put. This love he asked for, it was poisoned, but all you wanted was to make it out alive, so you played along, and after a while, even your body gave into the play. You let him hold you, kissed his lips, tasted his tongue, and all was laced with the taste of salt, coming from your eyes and his.

“Show me what to do.” Henry pleaded against your lips, his voice fleeting like a leaf in the wind.

“But I have already shown you.” Your voice came out as a tear-streaked whisper, and Henry took your reply for an invitation.

Your body tensed when his hand trailed down your sternum, over your stomach, and came to a rest between your parted thighs, under your skirt where you were seated on his lap, like you had shown him before. He only wanted you more now, despite your betrayal. His cock sat terribly tight in his pants, aching from the way you were half-seated on it, accidentally squishing him, but he didn’t complain.

Carefully, he placed his fingers on your clothed, warm center and pressed down lightly, searching around until he found the spot that made you moan, and he had never been happier about a sound before. If he could still draw sounds like this from you, not all was lost. Henry set a gentle rhythm on that spot, hopefully searching your face for signs of pleasure, monitoring every twitch and scrunch.

You were wallowing in misery and arousal, suffering under his touch, but not because it felt bad, but because it felt good. That play – You feared, it maybe wasn’t a play anymore, because what he did actually felt nice and you didn’t want him to stop. Suppressing soft whines, you rocked against his hand, swaying lightly with the rhythm he set on your clit, and you kept your eyes closed at all times, not wanting to see his clueless face.

“Is this okay?” Henry asked, his voice a whisper, and you nodded. How could you? Everything about this was sick and wrong, but you forgot it was when the pressure on your clit increased lightly and the pace quickened, leaving you grinding against his hand and hips harder.

Henry was jubilating in his mind, watching your face twist with pleasure and the fabric under his fingers grow wet. His cock jumped when he imagined what it must feel like, to be buried inside you while you were naked on his lap, your chest in his face, your wetness around him.

“Touch me too, please?” He suddenly pleaded, burning with need.

A part of you wanted to make this quick; The other part wanted to undress him slowly, see what he had to offer and make the most of this unspeakable nightmare. The butterflies in your belly had turned blacker than the night, but they were still there, still fluttering as his hands slid over your body.

Feeling disgust with yourself, you removed your fisted hands from the backrest and brought them to Henry’s throat, starting with the first button. You wanted to unbutton his shirt in quick and effective manner, not wanting to feel anything meanwhile, but then his Adam’s Apple jumped under your fingers and you sensed the heat of his smooth chest on your way down, heard him gasp with needy voice.

All of a sudden, as the buttons came undone, you found your fingers ghosting over Henry’s chest and stomach all on their own, feeling how his muscles twitched on your hands’ way down. He was skinny. And yet there was no way for you to defeat him; not with that ability of his.

When the tips of your fingers grazed his belt, you went to unbuckle it almost automatically, knowing this was what he was looking for. Without teasing, you pulled the zipper down and took him out of his pants. You didn’t want to look, thinking that would only make it worse, but you couldn’t help it.

His cock was resting on his flat stomach, the length almost reaching up to his navel, twitching slightly when you did as much as look at it. Normally, you hardly found there to be any inherent beauty in human genitals, but something about the entirety of Henry Creel’s flustered body beneath you made him the exception. His skin so pale, his lips so full, his hair curled for the angels, protruding clavicles that made him look almost frail. In contrast to that stood his member, an obscene sight, seeming disproportionate to the rest of him and thereby ruining the innocent impression of his physique.

You thought, he may look like an angel, but maybe he could fuck like the devil.

Henry had no one to compare himself to, so he could only hope he didn’t look pathetic to you, and that he could make you feel good with what he had. In that moment, he found it hard to read your face that was a little tense, a certain frustration on it. However, all was forgotten when you finally wrapped your hand around him, drawing a pornographic whine from his lips.

The skin beneath your fingers felt smooth and warm and you practically felt the blood rushing through him when you began sliding along his length, squeezing around him. Henry’s mouth flew open and remained so, head rolling back on the backrest as he watched you pumping up and down, mesmerized.

He had never deemed it possible that it would feel so good to have your hand around him, so much better than he was used to, and he decided he was never going to do it himself again.

It was hard, keeping up the rhythm on your clit while your hand was wrapped around him, jerking him off. The pleasure was completely taking up his mind, and he struggled to keep it together somehow. Sensing his struggle, you slowed down the pace a little and ultimately set his cock back down on his stomach, only running the palm of your hand over it lightly.

After a while, Henry withdrew from your center for a moment, hoping you wouldn’t be mad at him, and swiftly pulled your still unbuttoned blouse off your shoulders, throwing it to the floor. With nervous hands he fumbled with the bra clasp, breathing fast against your neck as he leaned forwards, the scent of your perfume in his nose.

“Let me do it” you proposed, but in that moment the clasp snapped open and Henry slid the bra down your arms. The moment your chest was bare in front of him, a tiny switch clicked in his head, like he had made a great discovery, and he found himself unable to look away, utterly mesmerized by the shape of you. He shuddered when his hands slid over your breasts, cupping them, and there was just something about the feel of them that rendered him into a lesser version of himself; One that was shameless and raw and horny.

If he could see himself, he would have thought he looked pathetic, but everything in him stuttered and malfunctioned when suddenly you let go of his cock entirely and reached for the zipper of your skirt. You had to clamber off his lap to take it off and he let you, although his watchful eye was on you. After the skirt, your panties fell to the floor, and you didn’t give him too much time to marvel at you, felt awkward and self-conscious under his stare, so you quickly climbed back on his lap where his cock rested hard and thick on his gaunt stomach.

His heart was banging on his ribs like a hammer and he shimmied out his pants, awkwardly kicking them off his legs, with you already being back on his lap. There was something cold and hard on your features, as you looked down on him, but also something warm and flustered, and he was hoping that maybe he could make the latter win.

Henry waited, plunged in nervous exhilaration because he was finally going to have his first time.

“A-Are you ready? D-Do you need a-anything more?” He gulped down, his hands dancing anxiously over your bare hips.

“I’m fine” you replied, thankful to be on birth control, thankful Henry looked attractive and talked sweet, because otherwise this wouldn’t be possible.

Maybe you could still bribe him out of this whole disaster. Maybe you could talk him out of it when he was relieved and appeased. And if not, you would get a chance to escape at night when he was fast asleep. There had to be a way out, and you swore you would find it.

But for now, you carefully wrapped your hand around his length and guided him between your folds, sliding him across your center a little to make him slick, and his eyes almost fell out of his skull, like it was already too much. Feeling pity for him and a foul, yearning ache in your center, you finally lined yourself up with him and pushed down.

“Aahh, oh God, th-that feels s-so good.” Henry moaned, his mind frazzling from pure bliss as he found himself enveloped by your tight, wet heat. A feeling like he had never known before, and undoubtedly the most divine thing there was between heaven and earth. “D-Does it f-feel, hngg, good for you too?”

“…Yeah” You reluctantly admitted through gritted teeth, shuddering from the stretch in your core as you lowered yourself on him, slowly sliding his length inside you until you had to pause with a hiss.

“I-I-Is it supposed to feel like that?”

“Like what?” You smiled, a touch of pity in you, because at least his inexperience gave you a feel of power despite the situation you were in.

“S-So… tight.”

“Well, you’re quite big.” You smiled again, admiring the twisted look of pleasant torment on his face.

“I am?”

“You definitely are.” Gently rocking up and down, you slowly adjusted to his size and took him inch by until you were seated on his thighs, somehow fitting his entire length inside of you. With his Cherub face aimed up at you, eyes enamored and dreamy, the intimacy of the position was crushing. Awkwardly, you placed your hands on his shoulders and started moving.

All he could do was squeeze your hips and indulge in what you were doing to him; Finding himself incapable to move his hands to your center where he knew they should be. Being wholly enveloped by you, sliding up and down along his cock, it beat any feeling he had ever known. And even though it was he who was gripping onto you, he hung in your grasp – willing and overwhelmed from the pleasure you bestowed on him.

He stared up at your beauty, and the sweat that gathered on your forehead, knowing that his own complexion was a much bigger mess than yours, almost like he had no control over his features that twitched and twisted with every thrust of your hips. There was a tenseness growing in his core, building fast and unstoppably, and embarrassingly soon he was whimpering, brows pulled up almost to his hairline.

From the face he was making, you were sure he wouldn’t last long, so you picked up the pace, slammed yourself down on his lap hard and fast, tits and hair bouncing with every thrust.

“Ahh, wait, wait, wait, I’m gonna-” He suddenly moaned out, face scrunched up, cheeks flushed, but you didn’t stop, feeling a sort of triumph, until all of a sudden you were forced to. His paranormal force was wrapped around your body, yanking you off him so that his cock slid out of you and slapped on his stomach with a wet sound. A strained growl left his mouth as he violently held back the orgasm, concentrating hard as you were rendered unmovable.

“I d-don’t want to stop yet” he explained once he had regained his composure, voice whiny and apologetic, and his eyes were glistening wetly when he looked at you. Ruefully, he set you back down on his lap. “Sorry for… I didn’t mean to…” He stammered, addressing his powers that he hadn’t meant to use. “Are you mad at me?”

Internally, you scoffed at the question. Because, yes, you were fucking mad at him for more reasons than he would ever understand, you were terrified, but you graciously shook your head as if you could easily ignore those dreadful daemonic powers that he hadn’t even cared to explain to you.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief, eyes glowing wide and hopeful as he slid his hands along the sides of your body with adoration. Then, a curios idea grasped his mind and he gently guided you to the side and off his lap, pushing your back down on the couch. Swiftly, he moved with you, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips the whole time, until he was fully settled between your thighs, both forearms resting by your head. You stared up at him with wide eyes.

This was the position he had seen in the movies countless times, except that you and him had no blanket to cover yourselves up.

The couch was barely wide enough to host the pair of you, so you were cuddled up by default, skin against skin, and he loved it. When you didn’t protest, Henry closed the gap between your faces and kissed your lips, softness quickly turning into passion. Your chests were flush together, your hammering heart right beneath his, and after a while, you even wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him loosely.

Encouraged, Henry brought one hand down to wrap it around his length and lined himself up with your entrance, happily surprised at how easily he found it. Your wetness seemed to almost guide him there, and when he pushed, he easily breached you and slid inside. A beautiful whimper left your mouth upon that, and his abdomen clenched with lust.

Henry liked the dilation in your pupils and how your lips parted while you adjusted to his size. He felt more powerful in this position. It was hard to decide which he loved better, but maybe it was this, because now he was actually doing something for you. You still felt tight around him, but much wetter than before, and as soon as he started thrusting into you, he knew this position was his favorite, because – God – did you look divine underneath him.

You realized, this felt very different from being on top of him, like you had no control over yourself or your body anymore. The moment he bottomed out and slid back into you, burying himself to the hilt, a part of you accepted that it was over for you. Gasping, you clung to his shoulders, returned his ardent gaze with furrowed brows, and your body shuddered with every thrust into your wet center that took him much too willingly.

Henry wanted to touch you between your legs, rub the spot he knew you liked, but it wasn’t easy on this narrow couch. Putting his weight on one arm, he slid the free hand between your bodies, trying to find a good angle while also keeping a steady rhythm, but it turned out more difficult than he thought.

“D-Don’t, it’s o-okay. Just f-fuck me, please.” You begged all of a sudden, saving him from the embarrassment, and he willingly complied to your wish. The sound alone of this obscene request from your lips made his cock twitch with excitement.

He picked up the previous rhythm, slamming into you hard and fast until both of you were grunting and moaning, gazes caught in each other. It was awfully intimate with no way to escape; No way to get away from the pleasure between your thighs. The furniture was creaking under the frenzied movement, the cushion covers growing damp from both of your sweat. With your legs around his slim hips, you kept him close, spurred his movement, feeling your center growing tight with the building pleasure that prickled on your nerve ends.

“Aahh, you feel so good.” Henry confessed, his face a grimace of arousal. “I d-don’t think I can k-keep it much longer.”

Yor thoughts were flickering between disappointment and relief. “Then don’t hold back.” With a nudge of your legs, you pulled him close, urging him to continue.

“W-W-Wait, c-can I…? I-Inside?” His hot breath fanned your cheek as he leaned closer, burying his face by the side of your head.

“Yeah, it’s okay. We’re safe, you don’t need to hold back.”

“O-Oh God.” Henry was unraveling on the spot as soon as he had your okay, and he knew even if he pulled back now, he couldn’t keep himself from cumming. So, he slammed into you, placing open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his face twisted with pleasure, until his body cramped and he came fully undone, indulging in the overwhelming rush of euphoria. With your arms around his neck and your hands in his hair, he shuddered in your embrace, and with every spurt of semen, a moan came over his lips.

Henry collapsed on your chest, heart hammering so fast he felt dizzy, and he felt utterly content, basking in the blissful afterglow of the climax. He had actually had his first time. A warm glow erupted all over his face, along with a smile, and he could have fallen asleep right then and there, in the comfort of your arms with your spongy wetness still snugly around him, but he knew there more to do.

“You didn’t…? Or did you?” He asked ruefully and lifted his gaze, somehow already knowing that you hadn’t reached your climax, and he was incredibly mad at himself, because even though it had been beautiful for him, he hadn’t tried hard enough for you.

“It’s okay. You may not know this, but many people can’t come like that during sex.” You were glad you had just about dodged that bullet; the shame of coming undone underneath the man who had seemingly decided to hold you hostage to make you love him.

You thought, maybe this was the only way to keep your dignity somehow, by keeping your orgasms from him.

“I-Is that really true? Don’t tell me any lies!”

“It’s not a lie!” You gave him angry eyes and squirmed underneath him, causing his softened member to slip out. Your attempt to wriggle away and off the couch was prevented by his arms that effortlessly kept you caged.

“Then show me how to do it better.” Henry whispered insistently, eyes boring deep into yours, like he was begging to know your secrets.

“Can’t do that now. You just came.” Evasively, you looked away.

“B-But I can still do something for you, can’t I?” His hand trailed down your body, properly this time. “I can do this.” His fingertips came to a halt on your clit, rubbing small circles like you had shown him before, and you found yourself hissing like an animal upon the sudden pleasure that jolted through your system.

With the hand that still lied close to your face, he caressed your cheek, like he wanted to appease you, whilst his other hand worked relentless circles on your clit. Soon, you found yourself squirming under his hand, indecisive whether you wanted to writhe away or beg for more.

What unsettled you was his insistent gaze on you, eyes wide and curious. You didn’t know where to look, so you looked away, closed your eyes, but his stare was still there, cautiously watching how you flinched with pleasure and your lips parted for a gasp. If only he would look away.

You wondered if he knew of oral sex, but if not, he was about to find out.

The only reason why you grasped him by the shoulders, guiding the puzzled man downwards, was because you didn’t want to look him in the eyes, didn’t want him looking in your face when you came, because you knew you were going to.

Like in trance, Henry settled between your thighs, and he never would have dreamed you would allow him to see you from up close.

“Use your tongue, and don’t stare.” You instructed him as if you were in any place to give commands, but he complied obediently, and when his head dipped down and licked over your clit, he made a sound as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

Quickly, you found your core building a certain warm tightness what grew with every precise flick of his tongue, sliding wetly over your clit. A glance downwards showed his bouncing curls, head devoutly buried in your cunt, pale fingers wrapped around your thighs to keep them spread.

This was a much better sight than him staring directly at you, but still you were unable to keep your eyes on him. So, you draped both arms over your face, violently blanking out the nightmare of reality, pretended like the person between your thighs wasn’t Henry Creel, that he was just someone and you were having a perfectly normal date with somebody who ate you out exceptionally well. The pressure in your center was growing, constricting, and you turned your thoughts inwards to focus solely on that.

Dutifully, Henry grasped onto your thighs, kept your squirming under control as best as he could while his tongue never faltered. Your hips were gently bucking upwards, almost needily, and he could tell something was happening to you; he was making you feel good. Minute by minute, your legs were closing in on your chest, knees bent, toes curled, and your back was arching, moans growing higher and higher.

You seemed like a tensioned spring and just the thought of seeing you snap by his doing made him double up his efforts. With fast, steady rhythm, he lapped over your clit, fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place, and he would have done it all night, but he didn’t need to.

With a high-pitched barely audible moan, you collapsed underneath him, and he felt the tremors running through your body. And then you said the most beautiful thing. “Aaahhh, fuck, Henr-”

Quickly but too late, you cut your own moan off, not wanting to call his name while you shuddered under his tongue, wave after wave of pleasure cruising along your nerves. You bit down on your own arm, muffling the cries until your center finally stopped clamping and each of your muscles slackened. Your arms dropped to your sides and you lied still, utterly relaxed and blissed-out from the climax you had wanted to keep from him but failed.

Henry slowly emerged from your thighs, his lips and chin glistening with slick, a look of pride and cluelessness plastered over his face and his cheeks glowed like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

If only you had moaned his full name, he wished, but he was sure he could draw it from your lips next time, and every time after that. His heart was beating fast and lovestruck when he smiled down on you; The shyness from the past dates suddenly returning.

To ease his nerves, he reached one hand out to gently touch your cheek but to dismay, you flinched away; A touch of hardness on your features.

Henry was worried. What did you think of him now that your arousal had been stilled? Had he not tried hard enough? Were you not convinced?

“I’m not a monster…” Henry declared meekly, placing his hands on your knees instead, because he thought he might as well die if he wasn’t allowed to touch you somewhere.

To that, you didn’t reply for a long time, until you felt pity for the young man above you whose eyes filled up with tears.

“You could just let me go, you know?” You prompted weakly, staring at the curtains where yellow light from the street lamp faintly seeped through. “There are thousands like me.”

“No. You are the only one like you.” Henry vehemently shook his head, swallowing down the panic. Maybe it had been foolish of him to think you would love him after just one night. So, he had to keep trying, didn’t he?

“Let’s go shower, okay?” He proposed, forced a smile on his face and grasped your hand, pulling you to your feet despite your defiance that made you lean against the pull on your arm, as if staying on the couch was any better. “We’ll take a nice, warm shower together, hm? And then go to bed, alright?”

This night, Henry Creel didn’t stand on the porch to watch your backlights disappear in the distance, and he would never have to again. Tonight, he lied in bed with you and held you lovingly in his arms, caressed your hair, whispered love confessions to your ear. Tomorrow, he vowed, he would cook you an amazing breakfast, get more flowers, let you pick any movie you wanted, and then make love to you however and as long as you liked. Anything for you.

For the first time, he knew he was not alone, and he would never have to be alone again.

Epilogue

Alice knew she never should have sent you to her brother. It had been three weeks since your vanishing, and she knew you weren't going to come back. She also knew she should drive over there, get you out of Henry’s claws somehow, but she also feared you were already a rotting corpse in her brother's basement. And even more, she feared what would become of her if she faced him. She didn't dare call him on the phone either, didn't want to know, didn’t want to draw his wrath. It was him who had killed Father after all.

When the police asked her about you, she remained quiet, said she didn't know where you might have gone, because what was the point of sending several police men into their secure death?

The guilt was biting her strongly enough already, eating her away from the inside. She had already cried her apologies into the pillow, begged you silently for forgiveness as she stared at the empty seat by her side in class.

It was best not to meddle with Henry, never again, to just leave him be in their parents’ rotting home and forget about him. Alice Creel decided she had no family no more.

And that is the story of the vanishing of you. Gone missing on a stormy autumn day, forever to be locked up with and by Henry Creel who loved you fiercely. He loved you so much that he always kept you close, always kept his watchful eyes on you, sheltered you from the outside world, and it was only for your protection - of course. Anything for you.

Chapter Text

A = Aftercare:

Henry feels awkward once the both of you are finished. He is content and relieved, yet awkward and also the littlest bit ashamed because that’s when he realizes he allowed his animalistic side take over. He will remove himself wordlessly from the room to get you something to help clean you up. Then, he will (wordlessly) wrap his arm around you and find sleep. Probably faster than you.

B = Body Part

His own favorite body part are his hands. He loves how they look wrapped around your throat and how small you look in them. He appreciates his hands and his brain because both wield power. They are what define his strength.

His favorite body part of you is anything that looks and feels soft and vulnerable in his hands. He loves your neck, your waist, your hips. He also loves that you are physically smaller and weaker than him. The sight of your flustered face and glossy eyes when he fucks you is a true delicacy to him. However, he doesn’t only love your body, he also admires your brain because he knows deep down you share similar views.

C = Cum

For some reason he loves seeing it trickle out of you, although the thought of reproducing repulses him. He sees his cum as a way of marking you and demonstrating his ownership of you. Reaching his climax inside you is his favorite thing because he transfers a part of himself into your willing body.

D = Dirty Secret

Henry secretly likes when you take the reins for a moment, especially when, on rare occasions, you feel brave enough to taunt him a little bit. It only gives him reason to regain control over you twice as hard. He loves when you are a little defiant because subduing you is almost even more fun than dominating you entirely.

E = Experience

Henry had zero experience before he met you, nor any interest in gathering any. Admitting his inexperience to you was one of the most shameful and embarrassing moments of his life, but discovering the whole world of sexual pleasure with you has turned out to be one of the greatest enrichments. He has gained plenty of confidence since then.

F = Favorite Position

He likes seeing your face and monitoring every little flinch and emotion on it. While doggy style is nice too as it’s a demonstration of your submission, he much prefers the intimacy of looking you in the eyes and drinking up your devotion for him. Missionary is his position of choice.

G = Goofy

Henry is not especially humorous in general. While there are moments when you make him smile or even chuckle, during sex is not the time for it. Henry remains serious to properly savor the moment and the intimacy with you.

H = Hair

Just like he prefers his face clean-shaven, he also prefers his intimate area to be smooth or at least trimmed. He will shave down there at least once a week. He is happy when you do the same, but he would never force you to. After all, he loves the sex with you for the sake of demonstrating intimacy and power, no matter how you choose to wear your hair down there.

I = Intimacy

The intimacy is the best part about it for Henry. He does it for the pleasant feeling too, yes, but he wouldn’t do it with anyone but you. Looking in your eyes, seeing all of your devotion and emotion on your face and in your mind meanwhile – That is the real reward. Knowing just how much you love, adore and crave him.

J = Jack off

Jerking off still feels like a bit of a shameful action to him because he sees it as proof of his very pathetic and human urges, but he will do it when you are away and he craves you terribly. However, it’ll never be as good. Sometimes he tries jerking off using just his powers, not his hands, pretending it is your warmth around his cock. From time to time, he teases you by stroking himself in front of you because he knows it drives you crazy when you are not allowed to touch him.

K = Kink(s)

The one thing that entices him most is driving you as close as possible to insanity. Whether it be by edging, denying or overstimulating you, as long as it turns you into a helplessly squirming, begging mess, Henry will be helplessly turned on by it. Anything that involves you being dependent on him, begging him, will ignite a possessive fire in him because you are only his.

L = Location

As long as it’s as home, Henry is happy. He definitely doesn’t like sharing, and the thrill of being outside doesn’t interest him. No one but him shall see you and he doesn’t feel comfortable with others seeing him in the act either. The bed is his preferred place, but he will take you anywhere, whether it be the couch, the counter or the shower.

M = Motivation

The sight of you is enough. However, he also seeks physical intimacy when he feels lonesome, which is often because he has never had a friend before you. He seeks sex when he feels like he needs to re-assert his dominance over you and make sure you still love him like you used to. Because deep down, Henry is a deeply vulnerable and insecure person in terms of human relationships and handling emotions. You are the only human in two decades he has ever felt emotionally dependent on.

N = No

No threesomes ever, as you are all his and only his. He would also never ever be negligent about protection. Even in his darkest moments, he is never out to seriously hurt you. His goal is to make you worship him and remain dependent on him, not to hate him.

O = Oral

He loves giving and receiving oral equally. Having you choking on his coke feels divine, but so does burying his head between your quaking thighs as he pins you down and eats you out until he is the only thought on your overwhelmed mind.

P = Pace

His pace wholly depends on the situation. He will fuck you slowly and sensually when he is out to tease and play with you, but he will be fast and rough when he is out to punish. However, at some point he will most likely always switch to a fast, passionate pace because even he can’t keep up the teasing forever. Especially once he chases his own high.

Q = Quickie

Henry loves taking his time more, but if both of your lust is suddenly sparked (or if he thinks you need to be taught a quick lesson), he will be ready to get it on in no time and finger you right then and there until you come over his hand.

R = Risk

He does experiment with you in the bedroom, but those experiments rarely involve the risk of him showing any more vulnerability than he is comfortable with. Henry enjoys finding every way to drive you crazy and that involves accepting the risk that some of the things he tries may not end up being to your liking.

S = Stamina

He can go all night if he wants to, if he thinks you deserve it, either for reward or punishment. On rarer days, he will be quicker and more rushed and mainly chase his own high. Especially if he gives away a part of the control by allowing you to be on top and set the pace, he has a harder time keeping it together.

T = Toys

Toys make Henry terribly jealous. He is more traditional on that aspect. He would never replace his cock with a dildo because he knows he can fuck you so much better than a toy ever could. The two of you tried a vibrator once and you thoroughly enjoyed it. Henry however didn’t take that very well and becomes angry with you whenever you dare to ask him to use it on you again. He is more likely to double his efforts with his tongue instead, even if it takes much longer than it would with the toy, just to prove it to you.

U = Unfair

He can be very unfair just to hear you beg and cry for him, his hands, his cock and your release. Edging is one of his favorite methods to torment you. He loves tearing your high away from you for the dozenths time in a row, turning you into a whimpering, desperate, drooling mess – Him being the only thought on your overwhelmed brain. However, despite all the unfairness, he doesn’t want you to be frustrated or disappointed by the end of the night, so he will always let you have your release eventually, sometimes even multiple times. The only question is “when?” He wants you to worship him after all.

V = Volume

He is vocal, but his groans, grunts and moans are quiet and gruff, hushed into your ear when he grows eager and aroused, relishing how sweet you look and feel. He wants you to be loud though. He wants you to let everything out, every cry, moan, pant, scream, because he knows all of the sounds are just for him and no one but him will ever hear them. A part of him will always instinctively try to hold back, not wanting to show vulnerability.

W = Wild Card

Strangulation. He loves to hold you by the throat and watch your pupils dilate as he squeezes, holding the power over your life, rendering you into a submissive toy. Sometimes he will do it with his powers only, when you are on the other side of the room and he wants you to come over to him right now. Henry loves the rebellious look on you when he does it, slowly melting into submissive arousal over time.

X = X-Ray

He is built slender but with lean muscles, making him stronger than he looks. His arms are sinewy and his skin is fair like porcelain, littered with occasional birthmarks. Henry is well-equipped when it comes to length and girth. In the right light his cock looks almost obscene in front of his bony hips, just a bit too big for his body.

Y = Yearning (sex drive)

Henry’s sex drive used to be rather low, being just high enough for an occasional, quick fap. With you, however, he finds himself aroused more often than he likes. You’re almost a little annoyed with how often he wants you and demands of you to be ready. He can lose himself in you for hours, needs it almost every day at least once. It almost becomes disruptive to him as it keeps him from brooding over his plans. However, with you being his reward, he doesn’t mind.

Z = Zzz

He falls asleep fairly fast with one arm wrapped around your waist tightly, unless he actively forces himself to stay awake.

Chapter Text

"It feels good to be back, doesn't it?"

Head first, you tumbled into a matrix of corridors, white tiles bleeding into jarring rainbows dripping into white tiles. Falling and ever falling, there was no up, no down, no left nor right, every direction a kaleidoscope of copies of the same hellscape you'd escaped—so many years had passed, and yet…

"I'm… dreaming…" Your words drifted into the lucid horror with shocking clarity.

"Oh, yes, you are." That gritty voice rang within your head again, rebounding from ear to ear.

"Who are you?"

Arms and legs flailing, you tumbled onward, no trace of wind on your skin, no scent in the air. The matrix stretched on, a scaffolding of corridors folding into each other in the distance.

"You know me," the voice taunted with a haunting familiarity to its gravelly tone. "This is not your first dream of me, not your first nightmare."

Dizziness began to claim your eyes, limbs and body bound to the endless descent towards whatever scrambled back there; building blocks rising into three-dimensional space.

"While I was banished by her, you sat in hiding and watched."

"No-o…"

"I know you did. Who do you think spared you, hm?" The voice dripped down the column of your spine, leaving sickly frost in the marrow of your bones. "I wanted to leave with you, and make you my companion."

The tunnel collapsed and so did your vision, and when you cast your eyes back open there was ground beneath your feet and halogen lamps above, buzzing away with blinding glow. A bell struck within your head.

"I see your dreams, but I do wonder… did you think of me sometimes?"

Turning on your heel, you found the silhouette of Peter Ballard as you remembered him. An angel's countenance, framed by soft, blond curls, hands clasped behind his timid posture. The faintest smile touched the pink curve of his lips before he opened his mouth to speak with the dulcet voice you recalled so well.

"Wasn't I… a nice workplace romance?"

He had been so much more than that.

Peter—Henry—stepped closer, polished shoes clicking softly on the bleached tiles. His orderly ID card dangled mockingly at his belt.

"Yes?" He pried. "Is there something you'd like to say?"

"Please let me go."

"Go?" Henry's brows drew together in confusion, creating a divot between them. "Go where?"

"Go home."

"Ah." He softly shook his coiffed head. "I always hated when you went home at the end of the day. And I was stuck. Left behind and forgotten while you went about the wretched world."

Moving backwards, your shoulders collided with a door which promptly gave way, leaving you stunned at the revealed room's center.

"Do you recall this place?"

Naturally.

This had been Henry's for as long as you could recall, furnished with a simple bed, plain sheets, a desk, a chair, a shower cubicle. You knew each of these objects intimately, remembering the many ways your limbs had been folded across them; the wet glass against your cheek, the soft sheets under your knees, the whispered, breathless confessions against your naked chest while you combed your fingers through ruffled, blond curls.

Henry followed you into the room and the bell struck in the far distance, yet somewhere close.

A shadow fell upon his deep blue eyes and when he angled his head, a string of vertebrae cracked along his neck.

"I often find myself afflicted by a sort of… nostalgia." He took a step closer and a tiny muscle feathered at his jaw. "Don't you feel nostalgic too?"

When his hand rose slowly, you could do naught but watch—like back then, in the surveillance room, neck upon neck cracked by the very hands that had held you in the morning.

"We could do it like this?" A force pushed you to your knees, a ten ton weight on your legs that made them buckle. Trembling, you glanced up at Peter's scowling visage, a broken halo scattered around his hair. The horror in your eyes didn't please him.

"Or like this?" At the sprawl of his fingers, you found yourself tipped to your back with force, spine aching as your legs were snapped apart and your wrists restrained to each side of your head.

It never used to be like this—with fear and force—but maybe not because he hadn’t wanted to, but because he hadn't been able.

"No?" Henry tilted his head the other way, a deep furrow carved between his brows as your eyes filled up with unspilled tears.

His fingers clenched into a fist and your body rose up tall like a corpse resurrected, sliding to him on the tips of your scraping toes until you were nose to nose and the pristine row of buttons brushed against your chest.

The bell struck for the third time.

Unbidden, your lips parted in a little gasp, marveling at the level of detail bestowed by your imagination, every pore on his clean shaven face, the texture of his lips, the scrunch of his brows as he scanned your face for an answer denied to him.

"Why didn't you come save me?" While you hung suspended, one slender hand cradled your face, thumb tracing along your temple. "It's okay. You can tell me."

"I… I feel so guilty."

"Oh, I know…"

"If I had just hidden one or two of the kids in my room, they—" You gulped, struggling for breath against the lump that swelled there.

"All these years, and you're still lying to yourself?" Henry reacted neither in scorn nor anger, only disappointment framed the angles of his face. "Look deep inside…" His hand gently slid to the column of your throat.

"Hen-ry~"

"You try to tell yourself you could have prevented this. But you were the catalyst, my darling…"

Salty pearls finally squeezed free of your tear ducts as your hot and cold skeleton squirmed against the constricting force that had wound itself around your entire anatomy, choking you in shame.

"Don't cry," Henry murmured, projecting a soft confusion into his timid voice. "I'm only telling you what you already know. I wanted to set us free, that's why I did it. For you. For us."

For a heartbeat, his fingers flexed around your throat and with a flicker of the bulbs above, you thought you felt the ringing echo of cracking bones in your own spinal cord.

You closed your eyes but there was no mercy there. Henry's lips fell upon yours, both hands sliding to the back of your skull. A force compelled your palms to his waist and curled your fingers against his ribs in a mock replica of moments passed. His breath came in hot, little huffs, chasing after the answer still denied to him.

Why didn't you come save him?

Hadn't you been on his side?

Didn't he love you with every fiber of his strange heart?

Wasn't that enough to bind the only human he had ever cared about?

Nostalgia stung in your heart and mind and your fingers twitched on their own accord, moving against the nightmare that was this reincarnation of your dead lover, haunting you in dreams and nightmares, none of them as lucid as this one. He tasted of a world of sorrow, a yearning, vengeful soul buried in a land far away.

The touch of his lips made the world fall away, layer by layer, until nothing remained and you fell through the figments of the kaleidoscope, awakening in cold sweat and tangled sheets to the fourth strike of the bell and a pounding in your skull.

"I will… see you… very, very soon, my darling…"