Chapter Text
Rain pattered down on the wide brim of Lydia Deetz’s hat. Next to her, her dad stood stock still, stoic as ever, while the priest read out the funeral rites. Something about how the living do not walk alone, or carry bits of the dead with them, or some other trite nonsense.
Emily Deetz had known that from practical experience. As a costumed hero with her license and official ranking and everything, she’d been extremely careful when rooting out malicious ghosts. As was her specialty. Until she’d come up against some sort of vengeful entity she couldn’t coax into a bargain, or cajole into leaving its haunt.
There hadn’t even been a body for her family to find. Just a smear of ash on the ground.
Lydia slunk away from the tearful hugs and handshakes once the ceremony concluded. Shouldered past a couple of her mom’s colleagues and OSI suits who’d come to pay respects and headed home to her leaky apartment.
At least until nightfall, when she hailed a cab to the Doom Factory’s club. She’d taken the time to swap her funereal LBD for a latex minidress and thigh high boots. More appropriate for the venue.
And sure, the mushroom-shaped building rising out of the Hudson looked ominous from the cab window, especially silhouetted against the night sky. But, Lydia reasoned, she wouldn’t know anyone at the villain-centered club, and she wanted to get plastered.
Hence why she was sitting at a corner table at this very adult nightclub affiliated with the Guild of Calamitous Intent, eyeing the blue-skinned performer (body paint? Colloidal silver? Who cared?) on the main stage. With her shiny boots, and most of her lower body to be fair, draped over a stranger’s lap. And the stranger was rubbing her back. And had bought her several drinks and had listened to her problems out of the goodness of his heart. Probably not. But whatever.
“I f-feel like she’d expect me to, to carry on her legacy, or whatever,” Lydia said. “But, I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet.” The loud, thumping music made her head ring, made her lean closer to the guy she was currently sprawled all over. She sipped her fourth whiskey sour and grimaced. “God, what do they put in these?”
The anonymous guy said something, but she couldn’t hear him over the noise of the club. His big, cool hand with its sharp fingernails (interesting) scraped along her exposed back.
“What happened to her?” he asked, right in her ear this time. His voice sounded…not calming, but pleasant. Scratchy.
“Exorcism gone wrong,” Lydia said. “God, it sucks. They called me in the middle of the day at my job.” She drained the rest of her glass and set it down on the table. At least Anonymous Guy had her drink refreshed in a flash.
Polite of him. And very polite of him to listen to her while she rambled about her dead mom. Couldn’t have been very sexy.
Lydia considered him for the first time. Nondescript. She could make out brown hair, a beard, but nothing more specific about his face, oddly. Chubby, with nice thick arms and meaty thighs.
He’d work.
She leaned in close and slung an arm around his neck. He blinked down at her, but quickly the hand on her back pressed her close. “Thanks for listening,” Lydia said, eyes heavy-lidded and pleasantly drunk. She snuggled into him, pressing her chest to his, and wound her hand into his tie. “Can I…do anything for you?”
It seemed to take him a minute. She couldn’t quite read what was on his face - her eyes felt like they slipped off him, a little. Weird. “Got a pass for one of the private rooms,” he said, voice husky.
“Really?” Lydia asked. Wow. Maybe this guy was a higher roller than she’d thought - she’d pegged him for somebody’s henchman. And she’d never been in one of the private rooms here. Although she’d heard rumors. Everyone had.
“Really,” the guy said, giving her a big grin. At least she could make out that expression. Probably the lighting. “If you wanna…talk.”
Lydia licked her lips. “I could…talk,” she said, “for sure.”
And five minutes later, she had this stranger by the lapels and had pinned him to one of the velvet-upholstered walls while she attempted to climb him like a tree.
“Fuck, babe, slow down,” the guy groaned, letting out a shaky laugh. His dick ground between her legs. “Jesus, I. I don’t even know your name.”
“Lydia,” she said, without thinking about it. Once she realized her mistake, she froze in the middle of attempting to mouth at his neck, but…well, no taking that back now. He’d probably assume it was an alias of some kind. People tended to keep themselves guarded here.
“Lydia,” he repeated, slowly. Oh, her name sounded good in his voice. “Lydia, you gotta…you gotta give me a minute. It’s been a while.”
Weird that it’d “been a while” for a guy who had a private room key, but okay. She reluctantly pulled her lips from his collar and unwound her hand from his tie. Now that she had a moment to glance around the room, she saw the…implements. For a small room, they sure could fit a lot of racks and handcuffs in there.
The guy ran a hand through his hair. “Any of that interest you?” he asked, voice low. “Not forcin’ you, just…might as well, right?”
“Absolutely,” Lydia breathed. She walked over to the display of restraints, keeping her steps even despite the booze. “How about…” she ran her fingers over the back of a padded chair, with buckles and clamps around its arms and legs to secure someone in it, “this one?”
“Do ya wanna sit down, or?”
Oh, that was cute. “No. For you.”
She heard the mystery guy exhale through his nose and stood, waiting. Either she’d misread the situation and would find someone else or…
The thud of knees hitting the floor.
“Holy shit, yes please.”
Good. Lydia smirked as the guy crawled over to the chair and pulled himself into it. The restraints forced his legs slightly open and drew her attention to the obvious tent at his crotch. Her mouth watered. She still had enough fine motor control to fasten the restraints at his wrists and ankles.
Odd that his face looked so…blank. She could read his expression - currently wide-eyed, devoted, worshipful - but trying to map individual features was a challenge. Oh well. She’d wanted relative anonymity, right?
Still, when she undid his fly and realized just how thick his cock felt in her grasp, she regretted, just for a minute, not asking for his name.
“Nice,” Lydia said, meaning it. Before he had a chance to reply she sank down and took the first few inches into her mouth.
The sounds he made were exquisite. He threw his head back and whined like a chained dog when she licked around the head. Under her hands, his thighs strained, like he was trying to pull out of the restraints, just barely stopping himself from fucking her mouth. “Be good,” Lydia warned, when she pulled back to catch her breath. “You could choke me with that thing.”
“B-bet you - ohh - bet you say that to everybody,” he moaned. Lydia heard his fingernails scratching grooves into the arms of the chair, the restraints rattling. She hummed around his cock in lieu of answering. Bobbed her head in short motions that had him practically writhing underneath her. Still, he wasn’t trying to push more of his fat shaft past her lips. Good etiquette. Lydia rewarded him by reaching a hand down to roll his heavy sac in her palm.
She really should’ve picked out a cock ring or something from the room’s selection of toys, because his balls already felt tight, and his cock was starting to spasm in her mouth before too long. She reached her other hand down between her legs, dipping under the tight skirt of her dress to play with her clit. She’d been wet since watching the performer on stage and didn’t need much to get her over. The stranger’s cock leaked precum onto her tongue when he realized what she was doing.
After bringing herself to a quick, tight orgasm, Lydia redoubled her efforts on the guy’s cock, using her wet fingers to encircle the base of his shaft. “God, fuck, L-lydia,” he gasped above her, “please, please, wanna come, so close, can I come, please,” begging in that whiskey voice. She sucked hard on the head in response, felt him thicken and spurt all over her tongue and down her throat. There…well, she hadn’t sucked a dick in a while, but there was a lot.
He was panting when she crawled up his body and sat herself on one of his thighs. “Oh my God,” he breathed. His face seemed to…warp? Shimmer? Something that made her head hurt. Maybe it was just the booze.
That one orgasm hadn’t really done much. She could get another from him. Lydia rocked her hips against his thigh, feeling the muscle tremble underneath her. “Can you go again?” she asked. “Not…not immediately, I just…” she glanced down at his softening cock and flushed. “I…kinda want it inside me and I didn’t really think that through.” Great job at domming this stranger, Lydia.
Except it actually seemed like it was, because the guy groaned again and chuckled. “Uh, I definitely can if you keep talkin’ like that,” he said. She could tell he was smiling huge at her even though his face blurred in her vision. Good.
She freed his right wrist, watched him shake his hand out. “I guess I’ll just have to sit here and wait, then,” Lydia said. She sighed, affecting a playful pout. Thankfully he laughed and snuck two fingers between her legs while she clenched her thighs around his.
Her arms fit so nicely around his thick neck. She leaned in, savoring the moan that rumbled through his chest when he discovered her wetness dripping onto his pants. He found her sensitive clit immediately and rubbed it with the pads of those lovely rough fingers. “That’s perfect,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his beard and leaving tiny kisses there. “Just like that, baby, making me feel so good –” He tilted his head and kissed her full on the mouth, stifling her.
She felt his cock hardening against her thigh already when he made her come effortlessly. Wow, that fast? Impressive stamina. She told him as much when he finally pulled his tongue out of her mouth and he let out a wheezing laugh.
Lydia had the wherewithal to fish a condom out of a drawer, at least (thanks, club staff, for keeping the rooms stocked). The minute his prick got hard enough she rolled the latex onto him, lined him up with her entrance, and slid down, nearly weeping at the satisfaction of being filled. “Oh, good,” she said, her voice thready, “yeah, good, perfect,” as he planted his feet on the ground as best he could, given the restraints, and drove up into her. She felt him panting against her shoulder, mumbling nonsense into her skin and occasionally mouthing at her flesh. Teeth kept grazing her. She wished he’d bite.
He didn’t seem like he was going to last long the second time, not that Lydia minded - she really just needed a good fuck to set her right, and then to go home. But with one hand gripping her waist tight and another plucking at her stiff nipple, visible through the latex, she could feel herself building again. Usually partners only got her to two orgasms max, Lydia thought, surprised. But cool lips and sharp teeth against her earlobe and a voice saying her name so sweetly? She curled against his soft belly and let him take her over the edge with him, her pussy squeezing his thick cock tight.
He groaned and bit down on her neck hard when he came, the imprint of teeth on her skin lengthening her pleasure. And when he’d finished twitching inside her, Lydia staggered up, righted herself, and leaned down to press another kiss to his slack mouth.
He gasped and leaned into her again, sounding completely overwhelmed. Blinking up at her like she was some kind of goddess. “What’s your name?” she asked, idly, while undoing his other wrist (odd, she could’ve sworn she felt two hands on her earlier).
That made his entire body clench. Great. She made it weird. “You don’t have to tell me, I just…” Lydia grimaced, swallowing any lame words like “really like your cock” or, worse, “think I felt a connection.” But he groaned and buried his head in his hands.
“I can’t tell ya. Literally,” he said. “You gotta believe me.”
“Right,” Lydia said, as she worked the ankle restraints open. If he wouldn’t give her his name, he definitely wouldn’t give her something like his phone number. “Want it anonymous. I get it.” She laughed to hide her disappointment. “I had fun. Thanks.”
When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips, holding her so tight she thought he’d break her wrist. Fear coursed through her, briefly, but he looked…well, he didn’t look like anything. Because she couldn’t really see his face.
“No, please, please, I swear, I wanna see you again, Lydia, I feel it too, don’t–” he babbled, before he saw her expression and fell silent. Even with the weird blurring she could tell his eyes were huge, begging her for something.
Lydia sighed and chewed her lip. She’d been played before with encounters like this. “That’s nice,” she said, noncommittal. As she limped out of the private room, she heard him say something like “I’ll find you, please, I promise,” voice rising in panic, before she closed the door.
When she woke up the next morning with a miserable hangover, Lydia realized that he’d certainly been wearing a glamour of some kind. Which she should’ve done, too, if she hadn’t been stupid.
Well, great. When she inevitably took up her mom’s mantle she’d need to be extra careful about her secret identity. At least no villain with an iota of sense would expect a hero type to go for anonymous sex at a Guild club.
“Already fucked it up,” she said to the box of her mom’s stuff sitting in her closet. It didn’t answer. Because it was just a box.
The best she could do was try to make up for her mistake somehow. And so she went to the fabric store and got several yards of red material that would drape well and obscure her form. Time to get to work.