Once again, thanks for the comments and keep them coming! This should begin to answer a few of the questions that I've had concerning a certain someone. Enjoy!
CHANCES ARE this will take place in the same world create by Eric Kripke's "Supernatural" while there will most likely be no cross over in storyline or characters. This world was not created by me nor do I claim to have done so. I however do not like some of the creature features of said world. They will most likely be changed. Deal with it.
~~ Supernatural 101 -- Part 5 ~~
It was dark... So dark... The stars seemed reluctant to show themselves in His presence. The moon hid behind clouds. He didn't want to do this, He didn't want to betray His master. What could He do? He'd done it before... Countless times and it gave Him a sort of solitude, peace of mind. Or maybe that's just what They wanted Him to think.
He could smell them, smell their blood, hear their hearts. It was altogether sickening. He didn't want to be like this, to see the things He saw or all the things the He heard calling out from the darkness. He breathed deeply and methodically, prepping Himself for the onslaught of voices He knew would come once He began His mission.
He held His long red scarf in His hands, studying it as He often did. In the faint light of the streetlights, He could barely see the intricate weaving of the scarf, His favourite part of looking at it. But in the absence of light, the one white patch that remained stood out like a beacon. He always kept that part under His chin, there, no one could see it, but He knew it was there. A constant reminder of all he had lost. But what had He gained? This half-life? Slavery? What?
Midnight. "Witching hour..." He muttered. The voices began. They urged Him to jump out of the tree He was perched in and land on His head. They told him He was worthless, nothing more than a sickening sack of meat. Others threatened His life, or told Him of the things they would do to Him once they got out. The gruesome details of how His skin would be separated from His body made Him cringe. Until...
ENOUGH! This one was His favourite... He called himself Rabnix, whether that was his real name or not, He was unsure. But he was the strongest, and always so kind to the Him, as much as was possible He assumed. Now we all know what must be done. Rabnix spoke through His clear mind. But all of this mindless chatter, `I'll peel back your skin and rub salt into your muscles' bah! Superficial hogwash. You do what you are told to do. Rabnix was talking to Him now. Don't let these fools stop you. Remember that you command them, not the other way around.
"Thank you..." He said, wrapping the scarf around his neck.
Afterall, it is I who is going to gut you over and over again until the end of time.
"Comforting..." He said and leapt down from the tree.
He was in a residential neighbourhood, rare for His jobs. If anything, He would be out in the woods at some log cabin. Diving into a bush for cover, He looked to the roof of number 287 Fallsview Crescent from across the street. There. And He jumped. He felt time slow down as the wind ripped past His ears. Of course it didn't really slow, He just liked to savor the moments of His weightlessness. But all too quickly, it was over and He landed silently on the roof.
Unsheathing His blade, he slipped down onto the patio in the backyard and approached the glass doors. He motioned for the latch to open and it did as it was told, it knew better than to ignore His wishes. Gripping the handle, he swung it open with little effort and stepped inside.
He was in the kitchen of a large house. An island separated it from an oak dining table containing a basket of fruit, a knife block and a sink. Nothing of use there. All fairly average.
A flashing light caught His attention. An alarm system. Usually He wasn't that careless, perhaps it was his thoughts of Tim.
I will rip those thoughts away from you boy if you think of him again tonight.
He closed his eyes and let the memories slip away into the black void of His mind, well out of reach of the voices. He gave the alarm system a defiant glare and sparks flew from it rendering it useless.
He found His way to the stairs, the voices began screaming in His mind. Mocking Him, taunting Him, daring Him to defy His orders. But He kept walking, one step at a time. When He reached to top of the stairs, there was a hallway of five doors, three of which held His prizes. He walked past the first one, running His hand along its surface.
Bathroom. A voice whispered to Him. The second door, Her name is Karen. Then the voice laughed. He hated it when it told Him their names and the voices knew it. So why not play with Him?
Waving an open hand in front of the doorknob, it opened without a sound. He approached the sleeping form on the pink princess bed. Jasmine, Cinderella and Belle looked at him from the lamp on her nightstand accusingly. With a quick motion, they were covered in Karen's blood, blinded by it.
He watched silently as her spirit floated up from her now lifeless body. She stared at Him and a tear formed in her eye. It was rare that a spirit knew what had happened to them so soon after the deed was done. He mouthed `I'm sorry' as she was sucked through the wall screaming and taken to her resting place... Or elsewhere... He tried not to think of where His victims went, a way of coping.
He left the room, a voice made sure that the door closed just as silently as it had opened.
The third door. You'll like this one... a voice chuckled in His ear. The door opened and He went inside.
It was the room of a teenage boy. Derek. A voice told Him. He cringed. He walked slowly up to the bed. The boy was laying on his back. It was Tim...
Come, don't get cold feet now!
Kill him, you know you want to taste his blood... Among other things...
"You're sick... Stop!" He shouted. The face of Timmy melted away to show the boys true face, a pimply 16 year old red head. Another trick courtesy of the voices. But Derek's eyes opened. He gasped as the blade sunk deep into his throat, pushing into the metal bed frame. He only stopped when the hilt of His katana crushed Derek's adam's apple. Withdrawing the blade, He heard the boy's spirit scream as it was carried away. No hauntings for these tortured souls.
Office... sang a voice as His hand brushed against the fourth door. Staring at the fifth, He breathed heavily as the blood dripped from His sword, echoing in the empty hallway.
A voice opened the door before He was ready. Go inside. They forced Him. The master bedroom held two sleeping forms in the same bed. He walked slowly forward.
"Now!" the lights flew on and a shotgun discharged in a brilliant flash of light.
He screamed in agony as the rock salt burned into His skin, bringing Him to His knees. His left hand on His wound, He threw up His right hand which shook uneasily, pinning the woman against the wall, drawing her up towards the ceiling. He had her neck and she choked.
"Linda!" The man cried out and re-loaded the shotgun.
Oh let me do it! I want to! Please! I need to!
No no! Me! Please! I haven't had a woman in so long!
"I don't care!!" He screamed, still in the grips of a burning wound. The result of his carelessness lit the woman on fire and sent her crashing into the large mirror, whose shards proceeded to freeze in mid air. They hung there a moment and then were redirected into her wreathing body. The flames died down and she smoldered.
"Linda..." the man began to cry and took off through a doorway.
Pull yourself together. It's not as bad as what I will do to you. Rabnix sneered. The pain was suddenly not so bad and He stood up, sword in hand. He bolted through the doorway that the man had taken into his office. The room was well lit and the man stood at the far wall sorting through a secret compartment of weapons.
The man let out a forceful grunt and flung a spinning blade towards Him. He put his hand up and the shuriken changed direction, embedding itself into the nearest wall. The man discharged two shotguns but by the time the rock salt had reached Him, He had driven His sword into the ceiling and knelt on it as if it were the floor. Another two rounds and He stood once more on the ground, wiping the drywall off His blade.
"A sword slinger huh?" the man said uneasily. "Alright..." He withdrew a long sword from the compartment. It held runes which He was positive meant to ensure what it cut stayed cut. "Alright big boy... Common..."
He began walking towards him slowly. The man couldn't be serious, challenging Him to a sword fight? Ha! He drew a small smile, this would be fun.
AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHH!!! The voices screamed at once. He stopped dead in His tracks.
"Haha! Devil's Trap boy!" Must be painted under the carpet. The man let the sword fall to the ground and picked a book up off the shelves. "You're going back to hell for what you did..."
He closed his eyes and took a shaky step forward. It was like walking towards the giant fan of a wind tunnel. The other foot.
"Impossible..." the man stared wide eyed.
"Sure?" He whispered. The man's head rolled across the floor.
As He left the house, He felt His body swell with heat. The voices were working their magic. The wiring in the walls erupted into flame, burying the grizzly things He had done.
On the walkway He collapsed into tears. The voices called Him weak and a fag. "How could I...?" He whispered to no one.
"Oh ma good Lord!" He looked up. There was a woman in her nightgown staring at Him from the neighbouring porch. The house had not yet taken full light yet but it was still visibly burning. A trail of blood led from the door to His discarded sword laying beside Him.
He stood up. Tears streaming down His face and sniffling uncontrollably, He approached the terrified woman. "Why did you have to come out?" He pleaded with her. "Why couldn't you just stay inside? Why did you have to care?!" He was furious but devastated. Fear gripped the woman, paralyzing her in place. His sword slid gently into her stomach. "I'm sorry."
I was laying on my front, trying to contain my grunts. Desmond was on top of me, as close to fucking me as he had ever been. I liked to think he was hard, it made the whole process more bearable. The concoction he had made from the small chest of herbs in his trunk smelled like strawberries and pomegranates mixed with a little bit of paving tar. I didn't know how he dealt with it. Maybe he was hard...
"You alright?" Desmond asked quietly as he gently rubbed the paste into the holes in my back. It stung a little at first, and I told him so. "Good. Then it's working."
He finished bandaging me up and walked to the bathroom. Turning my head I watched him go. He was hard. The sink turned on and Desmond soon emerged drying his hands on a towel, no longer stiff. I was not so lucky.
"Common, get up, we've got a lot more driving to do." He said, walking over to the side of the bed. He helped me stand up without moving my back around too much and dressed me. I envisioned him putting my pants on then ripping them off in a lustful rage, but sadly, he just took his time doing them up. Perhaps he pressed a little harder that required against me while the zipper worked its way up to the top.
"Why can't we just stay here for a little while I heal up?" I said, putting both hands on his exposed pecks, playing with the light hair.
"Winnie knows more about this stuff than I do." He said, taking my hands in his and putting them to my side. "She can heal you in a few hours, and hers is the only place where we are safe and can figure out what's going on."
I sighed in silent agreement. It was 9am. We could have gotten two more hours of sleep...
"I fucking live for coffee!" Desmond shouted out across the crowded diner after taking his first sip. A few parents with their children shot a disgusted look our way.
"Heh... Sorry!" I smiled embarrassingly at them. "Desmond shut up!" I hushed him down.
"What? It's true."
"Ya and I love pancakes but you don't see me shouting it across the bloody room."
"Sausage?" He raised a brow at me.
"Oh baby... Oh baby... I need it in my mouth." I answered lethargically, giving Desmond a tiresome look.
"Though so." He winked at me.
"You boys alright over here?" The kindly twenty-something waitress asked. Desmond tapped his spoon against the empty coffee mug and stared at it intently. "More coffee?" She offered. He just kept tapping until it started to flow into the cup.
"Hey can I borrow that?" He pointed to the waitress' hand towel hanging out of her apron. She gave it to him confusingly. He folded it up a few times and placed it on the table, grabbed the coffee pot from the waitress' hand and placed it on the cloth. "Ya we're good." The waitress rolled her eyes and walked to the counter.
"You have a problem." I said finishing my pancakes. "Psychiatrists, they'd be lost. Someone with narcolepsy would stay awake just to see how much coffee you can consume, it's ridiculous."
"You tease because you love." He shoved half a slice of toast into his mouth and smiled.
"You look like a chipmunk."
We paid the tab and I apologized profusely for Desmond's conduct at the table. I explained that he wasn't housetrained yet and that seemed to satisfy the waitress' curiosity.
We drove for hours, of course we stopped every half hour so that Desmond could pee but that's besides the point. It was a long trip. We drove just outside of Kapuskasing, to a small blue farmhouse on a big piece of land. There was no driveway leading up to it, just a break in the fence and a ten minute drive over cattle grazing land.
It was a strange house with two stories and a white porch. It looked like all the other ones you would see, it just happened to be farther from the road.
We stepped out of the car, my legs felt weak and tingly. You could see all around the house onto more and more farm land, a great forest in the distance and a smaller one just behind the house. Everything else was the dead yellow of wilted crops. Desmond motioned me towards him in front of the stairs leading up to the porch. He put his arm over my shoulder. When I winced, he settled for a hand.
"Now remember," he warned, "she's a witch. A good one, yes, but a witch. She does some freaky shit and has her own way of doing things, so don't get in her way. She knows everything about anything so don't question her. Never touch an alter unless she says so and for gods sake don't eat anything she gives you." He walked up the steps and knocked on the door.
It creaked open and he waved for me to follow him. I walked up the steps and into his arm which pushed me forwards into the dark house. Both his hands on my shoulders, I felt sort of like a human shield.
"Winnie...?" Desmond sang through the dark wooded corridors. The lobby of the house showed a grand staircase twisting up into the ceiling with a wonderfully ornate banister. Pictures of black and white people and families lined the wall on the way up. They all seemed to stare at me. "Hello?"
"Dizzy!" It was a faint summon coming from the left.
"Ah, here we go." He moved me in front of him still as we passed a large archway of dark stained wood. We passed into the kitchen which was the exact opposite of the lobby, it was bright yellow. And there she was, in a black gown baking cookies. She looked just like in the visions, except her hair was a little darker and she had a good 10 extra pounds.
"Oh well that's rude Timothy, a lady's got to eat something!" She walked over to us.
Desmond leaned over without taking his eyes off of her and whispered in my ear "She reads minds."
She gave Desmond a hug and kissed him on the forehead. "Glad you could come Dizzy." As if we had a choice. She basically forced us and now she was acting like we were unexpected company.
"And finally, Timothy in the flesh! Our little magnet!" She kissed my forehead too and patted my shoulders. "Won't hug you until I've taken care of that Langsuir wound you have there." She smiled. "Shall we?" She gestured towards the stairs and I followed her. She turned to Desmond and grabbed my forearm to stop me from proceeding. "Dizzy, please make Timothy some tea. No sugar, a little milk and a drop of blood please."
"Huh?" I protested. But Winnie just pushed me forward and up the stairs.
The pictures continued up the stairwell and along the upstairs hallway on both sides. There were few rooms and all the doors were closed. She approached one; it had a latch instead of a handle. She lifted it and pushed firmly. The door creaked open and she ushered me inside.
"Now my darling..." it was her laboratory. There was a large cauldron in the center of the room resting on a painted pentagram. There were hundreds of bottles lined up all along the walls on shelves with a few books here and there. She doted contently along the walls grabbing bottles and placing them on a table to the side of the room. It was large and stained the same colour as the lobby. "Take your shirt off and lay down, mind the bottles won't you?"
I did as she commanded and waited patiently. I could hear jars clanking together, opening, closing and a grinding sound. After about fifteen minutes of this, she finally smeared some strange paste onto my back. It was cold and yet calming. About time... Oh crap! I thought.
"Patience is a virtue, possess it if you can, found always in a woman, but never in a man." And she slapped my back with a large stick with beads wrapped in cords around it. I screamed out expecting pain but there was none. "Feel silly now don't you?"
She hummed a little tune and she peeled the now dried goo off of my back in one large piece. Once it was off, I turned over and stared at her. She showed it to me, there were ten scabs on it. I rubbed my back, felt no pain and smooth skin.
"Pretty nifty hmh?" She tossed the jello-like substance into a small garbage bin beside the door. "Now common, they'll open back up if you don't drink your tea!"
"How could the two possibly equate?"
"You're really going to ask questions to a witch?"
I nodded defeatedly and swung my arms back and forth enjoying the renewed movement.
"She's weirder in person." Desmond smiled at me through the candlelight. He took off his shirt and I drank in his body. I was sitting in bed, arms linked around my knees. It was a small bed pushed up against the wall. "You get use to her. Don't worry."
"I'm not to keen on the whole no electricity thing." I admitted as Desmond removed his pants and I let out a sigh.
"Well, I've been telling her that for awhile, but she says that electrical appliances give off negative energy. I told her to use rose quartz and she still refused so I don't know." He walked over beside me and swung a leg up over me, straddling me. "Feeling better?" He asked.
I looked up at him, he was exposing everything to me, throwing his shoulders back and letting his arms hang down by his sides. His silver necklace dangled over my head. "I couldn't feel better if I tried."
"Could I?" He asked, leaning down towards me.
"I guess." I whispered.
He straightened back up and smacked me in the face with the pillow he had retrieved.
"Ah! You son of a bitch!" I reached behind me and whipped mine at his face, sending him somersaulting off the bed, landing with a clunk on the floor.
He roared like some sort of cat and leaped over the edge of the bed, smothering me with the pillow. "Do you give up?" He yelled playfully at me, a big smile on his face. He removed the pillow for a few seconds to hear my `No way' then replaced it.
A booming voice came from everywhere, "Go to sleep!" We burst out laughing. "I mean it!"
Smiling uncontrollably at each other, I laid down and Desmond blew out the candle. He settled down next to me, wrapping his big arm around me as per usual. He snuggled up close to me, not difficult given the size of the bed and kissed the back of my neck. "Night T." He whispered.
For a change of scenery, I rolled over to face him, his arm still wrapped around me. We stared into each other's eyes for awhile until I drifted off into a dream-filled sleep. They were vivid, but about nothing in particular. It must have been the magic in the house.
Muffled voices were what woke me from the beautiful dreams. I liked it here. Very peaceful.
I walked down the stairs and learned what the muffled voices were saying.
Desmond was mid sentence. "...but I doubt it very much."
"It is your feelings that cloud your judgment and inhibit your actions Dizzy. While you may not find again what you had, what is the point to living in sadness?"
Desmond exhaled loudly. "I guess... How do you deal without Richard?"
A long pause. "The spirits help." I could tell that was a lie. "Good morning Timothy. Come down here, it's rude to eavesdrop." Probably shouldn't have thought that. "No probably not."
The yellow kitchen looked even brighter in the morning light, showing the cracks that the years had placed in the walls. Desmond sat at the small table in black sweatpants rolled up to his knees. His hands held tight to a large cup of coffee. He smiled as I walked into the room and I walked up to him. "Hey." He grabbed my hips and pulled me close in a semi-hug. He arched his neck while looking up at me. I was confused until he stood up slightly to kiss me gently on the lips. "Morning." He sat back down and sipped his coffee like nothing peculiar happened.
"Morning?" I said with a confused face. I looked to Winnie, she was smirking ever so slightly.
"Breakfast is on the stove." Desmond squeezed my hip in warning.
"No thanks, I'm not hungry."
"Ya we'll get something later." Desmond released me from his grip and I sat down.
"Here..." He stood up immediately. "Want some tea?" His shirtless body looked golden in the sunlight.
"K..." I said, mesmerized. I seem to be mesmerized a lot by his body. Could it be that this is what I consider to be perfect? But then what about the mystery man? Hmh.
"A paradox." Winnie said to me. "And you know..." she pulled a ventriloquist act and spoke without moving her lips, most likely she was speaking through my head, but I couldn't tell. "he's very fond of you. I'm helping him through some issues you may have noticed he has."
"Ya..." I trailed off into thought.
"Here you go." Desmond put a tea cup down in front of me along with sugar and milk. He looked very pleased with himself, smiling like a fool.
"Did you add blood this time?"
"Nah, sans blood." He winked.
"Good, cause it was awful. You need more sugar in your diet."
"Wha? And ruin this?" He flexed, bulging out a big bicep.
"Dizzy, sugars aren't always necessarily bad carbohydrates. You see, there are good sugars such as..."
"Blah blah apples blah blah." He responded. "Common Tim, I've got something to show you. He grabbed my arm and hurried me out of the room.
"You can't just get sugar from coffee you know!"
"She talks too much... Common." He opened a door and entered a dusty room. There were books piled up in countless numbers, scrap paper littered the floor. There were armoires, four in total, in a line on the wall to the left of the door. He walked into the middle of the room and spread out his arms. "Well? Whaddya think?"
"It's... impressive?"
"This was my study when I was a teenager..." He hurried over to a small desk, covered in paper, he shoved them off. "Look." Carved into the desk was his name: Desmond Leuengo. He was excited as a kid in a candy store. "And this!" He took a book from the desk and opened it, revealing a hidden compartment where a little toy witch sat. It was posed on a broomstick and look surprisingly like Winnie.
"Wow." I began walking around the room, running my hands over the dusty tomes. "So this is why your head is like Monsterpedia?" I opened a book, spells for exercising demons.
"That's a good one." He was reading over my shoulder and startling me. He placed his hands on my shoulders to ease me. It worked. "Richard always called it the Hell Order. Strong stuff."
I closed the book and stepped out of his grasp. Once I made it all the way around the room and back to the door, I looked at Desmond. "Who was Richard?"
"Winnie's husband. He was a witch too, and a hunter. She gave up hunting when he died, they were kind of like a pair. Now she just helps out with any problem hunters come across.
"And you lived here?"
"For a little while." He crossed his arms. "Me and a few other kids. We were all victims of various supernatural tragedies. When the vampire hunters that found me couldn't keep me with them anymore, they brought me here to live with Winnie and Richard." He seemed to slide off into his memories.
"Who's this?" I said pointing to a picture of two boys, one obviously Desmond who had his arm around a shorter blonde boy with a thin build.
"Hey! Winnie wants me to teach you some stuff. Common!" He ran out of the room. I stared at the picture a little while longer then I followed Desmond down the stairs.
For the rest of the day, Desmond taught me lots of things. How to shoot a gun... properly... How to make a sawed-off shotgun, sword fighting, about holy water and a little Latin. Shooting was lots of fun because I played a dumb blonde and kept missing the target so he would press up tight against me and guide my arms with his. How juvenile.
At around 6pm, Desmond went out to get a pizza for the two of us, claiming that raccoon was not meant to be eaten, which made Winnie a little upset. While we waited, Winnie and I sat at the kitchen table looking through old albums of her life. She didn't seem old enough to enjoy doing this but she told me that she was much older than I thought she was.
"My Uncle Herbert. He killed 73 werewolves by the time he was 24. Remarkable man, a little on the loopy side however." The picture was of an insane looking man with a pelt on his shoulders and an axe in one hand.
"Creepy." I remarked.
"And my Auntie Sabrina, powerful white witch she was until the demons got a hold of her. Twisted her gift for their own aims and that was the end of her, some hunter cut her head off. When he buried it, he told me that it was still yelling at him `How dare you! Put me back!'" She chuckled. "Oh, but no white magic can bring people back from the dead."
"Can black magic?" I inquired.
"Well it can, but it requires the help of a demon or other being of extreme power. Strike a deal for your very soul and they'll give you anything. Of course you'll spend an eternity in hell, but some see it as worth it." She turned the page. There was a group of around 30 people. "Now this was something. The League of Magicians. They were..."
"That's him..." I stared dumbfounded at the picture. That was the man in the scarf. He stared back at me, a much older version but I was positive. "That's the guy who is following me..."
"Impossible..." She said quietly. "No, Alexander Ironside died over a hundred years ago. He was in this League with my great grandmother and father." She pointed to two people holding hands.
"I'm positive... What happened to him?"
"Well, the League of Magicians was a powerful coven of white witches, they helped so many through so much. But it split in half. Alexander and his friend Daniel Leavens were convinced that they could amplify their power through tapping into black magic. The white witches told them it was madness, claiming that using black magic was against everything they stood for. The lot of them died out... Black magic comes from demons and they cannot be trusted..."
"No... This is him, or at least a relative."
"The Ironsides are all dead Timothy. The demons killed every one of them once they picked up on what they were up to. Demons are nasty creatures."
"Hey T! Pizza time!" Desmond walked in smiling, holding up a pizza box and a bag of what I could only assume to be pop.
"My god..." Winnie looked stunned, here eyes glued open.
"What's wrong?" Desmond said putting down his bounty.
"Chris and Linda Somerfield are dead..."
Although it was a cold night, I wiggled my way out of Desmond's embrace and wandered around the room. Though it was small, Desmond had told me that he had shared it with three other children that Richard and Winnie looked after. They were apparently foster parents for the children who had lost their families to the forces of darkness. Probably why she had so many pictures.
I had avoided looking into mirrors since I saw the shadow man in Nobel, but I thought that I might as well. Desmond was here, Winnie had put up insane wards on the house, nothing evil would pass through the door. Desmond said that when they were younger, Richard had them dig a trench around the house and fill it with salt a foot deep.
My reflection stared back at me. I found it difficult to look at myself in the eye without searching for a problem with it. A black head, bump, scratch, something, but there was nothing out of place so I was forced to stare at myself. Once I couldn't take it anymore, I moved to the window, looking out over the fields. It all had a blue tinge to it, bathed in moonlight.
But that's not all I saw in the field. There was something else, a shifting blackness moving through the dead crops. When it settled in the yard it was Him. I put my hand on the glass in longing and He just stared. I put on Desmond's coat and went downstairs and out the door.
I approached slowly, knowing that there was something evil about Him, but not sure what. The salt line would protect me. I hoped.
"Hi..." I said, stopping a few feet from Him. He nodded to me in greeting. His eyes were blue and full of sorrow. "Are you alright?" I took another step forward.
"I..." He stuttered, realizing that He usually didn't talk to me. Gathering courage He said: "I have done something... horrible." And He began to cry. Not convulsing into tears, but they flowed down His face as if He was. "Please..." He beckoned.
Hesitantly, I stepped forward, across what I presumed was the salt line. He exhaled, knowing I was within his grasp. He took full advantage, grabbing me with both hands and kissing me. His tongue wiggled its way around inside my mouth and his hands groped my ass, pulling me up so he was carrying me on his hips.
I ran my fingers down his neck, tracing the tattoos he bared. Then I pulled away from him. "You'll be fine... It's alright." I whispered, sounding like a yell in the silent darkness.
I felt a whoosh of air and the surroundings changed, as did my positioning on his body. He was piggy-backing me now, slowly putting me onto the ground. We were in a sort of cave, somehow lit with different coloured lights.
There was a bed, a few chairs, a fire pit and a pile of books beside a small pond. I examined the room until I felt my pants fall to my ankles. I turned around and he was fully naked, clothes in a pile next to the bed. His eyes had turned a light red as he breathed pushing out his jaw, exposing his sharp teeth. His tattoos seemed to shift in the darkness of the cave.
"This is one of my homes... We're safe here." Safe from what, I could only imagine. Maybe he thought Winnie was a threat... Or Desmond.
He walked towards me, his limp dick flopping from side to side with each step. As he kissed me I took it in my hand, pulling at it gently. He pulled my shirt over my head and once more picked me up, only to place me on the bed.
He kissed down my body, following the treasure trail to my cock and licking it playfully. I rubbed his shaved head in pleasure, moaning with every tongue flick. Taking me into his mouth I got hard almost instantly. As he sucked away, his tongue moved in a separate motion, encircling the head and massaging the underside of my pulsing dick.
"Ah... Commere..." I groaned as his slobbering mouth met mine in a wet kiss. His tongue tasted like cock. Wandering hands played with my balls and helped pull me towards him. I forced myself on top of him, rubbing his dick against the crack of my ass, begging for him to fuck me again.
"Not yet." He said, flipping on top and turning me over. With one hand on the middle of my back, he wiped his fingers between my cheeks, threaten my hole with an onslaught of pleasure.
"Oh god..." I moaned in anticipation.
"God isn't here." He said as a finger slid inside me and he laid on my back, kissing my neck.
"Ah fuck you're cruel!" I shouted out while in the midst of laughter. I moved my ass with his finger, trying to get it as deep inside as possible, showing him I could take all he had to offer.
After three fingers inside of me, I was begging to get fucked. "Oh ya! Mmmh... Ah! Fuck me! I need you..."
He flipped me over to my back and continued what he was doing, muting me with his mouth. He withdrew his fingers, all but the middle one. His hand was pressed against my ass while the remaining finger fucked me over and over. I'd had enough.
I clenched my ass and moved his hand away, my hole feeling empty. I started stroking his cock, pulling it towards my waiting asshole. "Stop toying with me." I gasped, still in ecstasy from his long fingers.
He moved with my hand, pushing his cock towards me. There was nothing I wanted more than to feel him inside me again. The last time was pure bliss. "It's called foreplay..." He whispered.
I felt his dick glide against my hole, well lubed from the vicious finger banging he'd given me. "Fuck me." I pleaded with him. His eyes bled desire as he pushed himself into me. I screamed out in pleasure.
He thrust into me, almost the whole way in. I clenched my ass muscles against his withdrawal, making him shudder and gasp for more air. His paced quickened and I tried to keep up the motion, but it was too hard once he had a steady, quick pace.
I pulled him down on top of me, kissing him with everything I had. Forcing him over onto his back, I rode his thick cock, moving my hips back and forth. He closed his eyes and licked his lips moaning with every time I thrust him inside me. I rode until his pubes tickled my balls, making me pull up faster, it was too much.
His hand ran up my thighs and cupped my butt, coaxing it into more motion. His dick was almost outside of me now with every thrust down into his pelvis. Leaning forward, I put my hand on his shoulders to get some stability and I fucked him faster and faster, each stroke bringing me closer and closer to cumming all over him.
I felt the head of his cock grow more tense and just as I thought we was gong to pump me full of his seed, he threw me onto my back, spreading my legs wide. "Oh no, we're just getting started..." He moaned loudly as I pushed myself towards him with each slow but intense thrust.
He kissed my neck, the feeling was indescribable. Being fucked by a huge cock and his tongue pushing against my neck... It was fantastic. I straightened my neck so he could go longer without stopping the sensation just to start again. My hands found his ass and helped him thrust into me at the pace I wanted, which was much harder than he was giving it to me.
"Ah you're so hot..." He said into my ear, his breath turning me on even more if that was possible. He became more forceful in his thrusting and I felt his cock swell again inside me. I tried my best to keep tensing up as he withdrew but again, to no avail, he was fucking me too fast for me to even know what was going on.
I could feel him aiming for my prostate trying to get me to cum with him. It was working, I moaned and pushed with him, his head grazing that sweet spot deep inside me.
"Ugh keep going!" I screamed, "You're so fucking good..." This enticed him. I felt my orgasm coming now, unstoppable. "I'm cumming! Oh fuck!" my ass clenched and I shot thick streams of cum onto my stomach and chest.
"Mmmmhh!" He moaned as he came, pushed over the limit by my own orgasm. The spurts of cum didn't stop for a long time, mine and his combined. We kept feeding off of each other, wanting to cum more and prolong the experience. His cock felt so good spreading my ass open. I kept thinking about it as I moved around in ecstasy, pulling the last bits of cum out of him.
"Wow..." My breathing was heavy and we both had a thick coat of sweat on us. "That was hot." I said as he pulled his limp dick out of me, giving me one last spurt of pleasure. I felt the cum immediately start seeping out of me. It dripped onto the bed from my stretched hole.
"You're so beautiful..." He said to me, moving a hand down to my ass. He fingered me and collected wads of cum that he then fed me. I licked his fingers, taking all he gave to me. He chuckled.
Once my ass stopped giving up his cum, he moved to my chest, where the cum had started to dry slightly. He didn't find a problem in licking it off of me then sucking the post-cum out of my softening member.
He finally laid down beside me, totally spent. My hand went to his cock, stroking it softly, trying to get it hard so he would fuck me again. He put his arm around me and pulled me in close. I stopped suddenly. This was what Desmond and I shared. I moved his hand down to my crotch and grinded it slightly to get him into the movements. He moved an open hand down to graze the entrance to my ass then up to push my balls upwards and grind into them. Both turned me on again, popping an impressive stiffy.
"You want more?" He laughed feeling my cock harden.
"Always..." I said softly, starting to move with his hand. Eventually, I pushed back hard enough to feel his also hard dick push against my ass cheeks.
He laughed slightly as he moved the hand that was rubbing me up my leg, opening me for entrance by his thick fuck tool. He didn't spare anything this time, shoving it all the way in, then pulling it out so I could feel my ass close, then he split it open again as he forced his way back in. The whole time he kissed and licked the back of my neck, sending shockwaves down my spine.
With one leg high in the air, he fucked me from behind. His hand caressed my inner thigh and I put my hand on his tense forearm. The hand slid down and grasped my dick, pulling at it time with his fucking. I was completely dominated. I didn't have to do anything and he seemed to like it that way.
His spare hand crept up beside my head and played with my earlobe, making me laugh in a lustful way.
When he came, it spread out all over my hole and between my legs. He was more than happy to clean up the mess, taking his time in collecting every drop. I had my mouth open in lust, but he took the opportunity to drip his cum into it.
A long glob oozed its way down his tongue, leaving a long trail. I had to lift myself up to catch it in my mouth. I swallowed it and waited for more, which came only seconds later. When he smiled at me for eating all of his cum, I kissed him, searching for more in his mouth. Finding none, I settled into a slow make-out session that lasted forever. I really didn't care that I hadn't came a second time, I was completely content.
I awoke a few hours later to him running his hand along my hips.
"You're beautiful..." He mused once he knew I was awake.
"You're not so bad yourself." I said, then we both laughed. "That was amazing..."
"Not difficult with such a hot hole to fuck." He nibbled on my ear. "You're amazing."
I laughed. "Really?" I turned to face him. His tattoos added something to the overall picture. Those small ink blotches of no particular shape made his neck look stronger, more masculine. "Alex Ironside?" I ventured.
He paused and withdrew from me. "How do you know that name?" His sexy deep voice became concerned and unsure.
"Is that your name?" He got out of bed, his cock flapping against his thighs, still almost hard.
"Don't worry about my name..." He muttered, almost incomprehensible. "It will only get you into trouble."
"With who?"
"You don't want to know." He pulled on his pants and shirt. He had his scarf in his hand when I noticed a small white patch in the center of it.
"Who are you? Why do you fuck me then leave me without answers? Is that all I am to you? Cause you seem a lot more passionate than the other's I've fucked."
He sneered. "Yes... Them..."
"Did you kill Mr. Grehy?" I'm not sure that I was ready for this answer.
"I've killed a lot of people." He turned his back to me so I couldn't see his face. His voice grew sad. "And yes, I killed him."
"Why?!" I demanded.
"He was no good for you. He didn't care about you, he just wanted you to pleasure him." He turned to face me once more. "And those other two..." his eyes were blood red, "they escaped me... For now."
"So what? You blow up the locker room?"
"That place was not fit for you to be treated so poorly in!" I was a bit taken back, never hearing him yell at me before. "I... I apologize... It needed to go away so that those memories could as well."
I sighed. He killed for me? Then... "It was you who killed my parents wasn't it?"
He nodded slowly. "Can see that I have hurt you, and I am sorry. But those people chose not to love you simply because you would rather fuck a man. They did not deserve to live for hurting you that way."
I sighed. I needed to change the subject to stop myself from pummeling his face in. Not that I could, he would most likely kill me before I got to him. "If you aren't Alexander Ironside, then who are you?"
"My great... Great grandfather..." He suddenly grasped his head in pain. "No no no! Stop it! Stop! I won't... No! STOP!" He pleaded with his mind. In a moment of strength, he looked to me. "I'm sorry." He placed his hand on my head and I heard voices in my mind... Kill him! He's no use to you! A good way to get off is all... Rip him apart! He'll betray you to the witch. Fool...
The world went black.
"Tim! Hey Tim wake up!" Desmond shook me awake. It was morning and I was on the lawn outside Winnie's house. Winnie stood behind Desmond in a silver nightgown, exposing her pale arms. Her hair was in a neat bun. Desmond wore only this underwear, both had clearly just gotten out of bed when they realized I was missing. "T, why are you out here?"
He helped me sit up. "I..." I struggled to recall. "I know who He is."