Demon boyfriend - Part 7 - Are all of your gifts metaphors? (nsfw)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 (nsfw) / Part 6 (nsfw)
[Welcome back! This part’s a bit long but it would be cruel to leave you on another cliff hanger :) This is NSFW, there it lots of gore and it’s a bit scary in parts. But there’s an orgasm in it! So there’s that to see you through.]
You’d spent a lot of time ruminating on the events of that Friday evening. The thing which you had found most disturbing, even more so than the sickening wet slap of Emma’s limp body hitting the floor, was the immediacy with which Friday’s manner towards you softened as soon as you’d felt your willingness to fight against or flee your haunting drain away. As you’d sobbed out hopeless tears against his coarse mane, the claws tangling in your knotted hair had almost been.. tender? What kind of relationship was that? You flashed angry and ashamed whenever you thought about it, purposefully trying to avoid remembering the overwhelming relief of abdication of responsibility and surrender you’d felt wash over you.
Of course, the touching scene had been interrupted when your monster had slunk away to methodically consume the corpse it had made of Emma, crouched on the floor on all six limbs swallowing down big chunks like a lizard. Somewhere between the beginning of the sickening splitting crunches and the slurping lapping at the pooled blood on the floor you’d no longer been able to contain your disgusted retching; but the fear that Friday would take offence to you running to the bathroom to throw up kept you rooted to the bed with tears still drying on your face.
The bunker had cooled rapidly and a draft permeated the space from where Emma had left the door open (presumably) in her haste to rescue you, and it was only due to that you were able to get some sense of the time. When you heard the chirping and chittering which heralded the beginning of the dawn chorus, Friday snapped his dark horned head up to look at you and you flinched.
Too quickly, he’d dragged his long lithe body over to you, crawling across the floor using all six limbs. You’d managed to smother the temptation to back away from him, even though you could feel a fresh fear rising in your throat as your breaths shallowed and quickened. He gripped your calf with long, thin fingers as he reached you and you’d yelped at the touch, causing his mane to bristle - though you weren’t sure if it was in amusement or annoyance.
“CONNECTION NEXT TIME. LUCKY THING.” He’d pressed his flat face to yours momentarily before splitting his face to lick across your cheek and eyes, leaving a smear of Emma’s blood across your face and making you retch again. By the time he’d finally disappeared for another week, you were trembling so much with fear that you were worried you were having a seizure.
The days following passed in a blur of nervous tension, news watching, and shoveling sweets into your mouth. The stomach turning guilt of having the loss of a life on your conscience precluded you from reaching out to (dooming) anyone else, and the sense of detachment from the world around you as you felt the clock ticking down to your next nightmare made your heart ache with loneliness.
On Tuesday, as you sat in front of the TV eating brownies (technically still ‘brownie’ as you’d never sliced them) directly from the baking tray with a spoon, half heartedly liking Brooklyn 99 gifs on Tumblr and doing your utmost to ignore the ever intensifying drum roll of dread building inside your skull, your mind started to wander. You wondered absently what the rest of your life was going to be like. Would you be able to have people in your life, you wondered. Would you get old? Or would the creature kill you before then. Would the weekly visits ever become routine? ‘How was your week, dear?’, TERRIBLE DAY AT THE OFFICE, you laughed despite yourself.
On Wednesday you were feeling in slightly better spirits and spent the day watching how to crochet tiny woolen vegetables on youtube. You had a go at a turnip but it didn’t really work out, and ended up looking more like a scooped out eyeball. By the mid afternoon you’d half convinced yourself that maybe you could deal with this kind of life… six days of leisure, one day of mind bending horror. Maybe.
Those hopes were quickly dashed when you woke at dawn on Thursday with a cloying film of sweat over your brow and your mouth and throat dry. Over the course of the day it became very apparent that your anxiety was making a resurgence: whenever your attention was even minutely diverted from whatever task was at hand, you slipped into a tense reverie from which it was increasingly difficult to shake yourself. When your full consciousness snapped back to the world of the living, you always found yourself drumming the same terse beat on whatever surface was at hand: tap-tap tap tap, tap-tap tap tap.
Refocusing your eyes after staring blankly at the wall for an unknown amount of time and realising you’d spilled your drink over your legs.
Tap-tap tap tap.
Pulling your hands out of the sink, belatedly realising you were scalding yourself on the too-hot washing up water.
Tap-tap tap tap.
Tap-tap tap tap.
Realising the tea you’d made yourself and were clutching protectively to your chest had long since gone cold, untouched. Your nails still drumming frantically against the ceramic:
Tap-tap tap tap.
Tap-tap tap tap.
Tap-tap tap tap.
You forced yourself to take a slow, deep breath and ragged though the intake was you held it. You tried to cajole and comfort yourself. Friday had mentioned visiting every week, that meant that whatever this process turned out to be.. you’d survive it. That was a start! Literally a start. When your lungs started to burn pleadingly you sighed out the breath you’d been holding and trouped towards the sitting room, running a hand through your hair.
You were sitting with your legs folded under you and your back pressed against the arm of the sofa, playing solitaire on the cushion in front of you. You’d cycled through the remaining deck a few times and finding no available moves were steeling yourself to cheat at a one player game, when the silence around you was shattered by the quiet squeal a floorboard underfoot. Your ears immediately pricked up. You stopped breathing and stayed frozen in place like a rabbit in a car’s headlights, not shifting your gaze from the cards in front of you. You felt sweat on your palm as you gripped the deck of cards more firmly as though for comfort.
Then, the house was quiet again.
You let out your held breath and snagged a few cards which were sequestered at the top of a pillar you’d been unable to shift, adding them to your deck. The additional ammunition restarted play, and you did your best to focus on the game in front of you rather than any noises the house might be making. But you couldn’t stop yourself hearing it; faintly at first, then more audible, quite obviously originating from the floor directly underneath the sofa on which you were sitting:
Tap-tap tap tap.
Tap-tap tap tap.
Your mouth went dry.
Tap-tap tap tap.
Tap-tap tap tap.
You felt the prickle of tears in your eyes and quickly blinked them away.
TAP-TAP TAP TAP.
TAP-TAP TAP TAP.
Had he been watching you all day? You were certain you could feel your heart thudding against the inside of your ribcage and you plunged into cold fear. You swallowed dryly and placed a card down nonchalantly even though it wasn’t a legal move, doing your best to sound unconcerned as you called out:
“Hey, spooky. Gonna come out and play?”
The tapping fell silent and you had a moment to furrow your eyebrows before the lithe, dark creature appeared from nowhere, crouched on the floor next to your seat on the sofa with its strange flat face only inches from yours and its bright lidless eyes staring a hole into you. You flinched violently and screamed in surprise, and in its foul mimicry of your voice it screamed back at you, then cackled shrilly. No matter how many times you saw the monster appear from nowhere, every time it filled you to the brim with the desperate urge to run and never look back. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to push down your knee jerk reaction of pure terror. Its mane was bristled in what you parsed as amusement.
After a few breaths of silently staring at each other, Friday slowly reached towards you and you blanched. With his eyes never leaving your face, he wrapped his long, thin fingers around your wrist and turned your unresisting hand over to present your palm face up. The touch was gentle and his hand was unexpectedly warm. You looked from your palm to his face and back again when he used another hand to place something warm and soft in your palm. When his second hand drew away, you saw feathers. He was still loosely gripping your wrist as you inspected what he’d given you: it was a small brown bird, dead. You grimaced.
“GIFT.”
He was staring at you with that inscrutably blank expression.
“Are you a cat?” You questioned frankly before noticing a small movement from the bundle of feathers in your palm. You brought your hand closer to your face to inspect it further and whilst Friday didn’t release his grip on your wrist, he did move his arm up with you so as not to impede the motion. It was breathing. You glanced to Friday’s grip on your wrist with resignation and then to his face. “Why isn’t it moving?”
This caused Friday’s whole flat face to split in half in his disturbing imitation of a grin, rows of bright white jagged teeth on display. “KNOWS WHAT’S GOOD FOR IT.”
You felt a ghost of annoyance twang at your belly as you looked from Friday to the bird and back.
“Are all of your gifts metaphors?”
He was staring at you as if frozen in time, fixed grin still splitting his face. You took the few moments of still quiet as an opportunity to regard him - his horns were shinier than the rest of his body but the rest of him from the mane to the flat face to the six limbs covered in thick hide was pretty.. matte. You shook your wrist in an attempt to dislodge him but he held onto you easily.
“KISS.” He prompted.
You eyed the creature in front of you dubiously, the thrum of annoyance still present within you and momentarily able to overwhelm your underlying fear. You hesitated.
“KISSSS.” He hissed inside your mind and on a snap impulse you threw the not-dead bird at his face. It bounced off him, landing on the floor with a funny little thump and the noise immediately snapped you out of blind anger and reminded you how dangerous the monster before you really was. Your heart fell through your stomach and your insides churned as a mental image of Emma’s body falling to the floor with a wet slap permeated your mind. Friday’s grin had faded from his face but otherwise he didn’t move. You swallowed. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“You’ve got a funny way of keeping friends.” You started, voice already hoarse but picking up volume. Your eyes were fierce with fear and indignation, but a distant part of you realised this rage might have more to do with the shame you felt about the relief of surrender from last week than anything else. “Half drowning me! Killing my friend!” Anger and terror were both white hot in your blood. “YOU BIT OFF A PIECE OF MY EAR, now you show up with a half dead bird-”
Friday stirred and you were immediately silenced. Still crouched next to you, he grabbed both of your ankles and wrapped an arm around your waist to drag you effortlessly towards him. Your eyes widened in terror and you struggled against the grasp, but he was impossibly strong. The claws wrapped around your right ankle pressed into your skin sharply and you heard the blup blup of bloodrops hitting the wooden floor, causing your breaths to become shallower and more rapid.
“YOU SHOULD BE HOPING.” He dragged you off the sofa into his lap and blood rushed to your face as you used your free hand to push uselessly against his chest. “THAT FRIDAY CAN BE CONVINCED” The arm wrapped around your waist dragged you closer to his chest, “NOT TO BITE OFF MORE PIECES.” Your whole body went stiff and immediately you felt faint with terror and regret, your free hand trembled visibly against the thick dark hide of Friday’s chest. The extreme closeness was new and deeply unpleasant.. you felt more vulnerable than you ever had. A few moments of heavy silence were interrupted by a couple of disturbed cards which had been teetering on the edge of the sofa cushion clattering to the floor. He was so warm. Your mind was buzzing with adrenaline and self preservation instincts. You moved your hand on his chest to touch where his mane melted into hide, watching your fingertips move through the coarse hair for a moment before flickering your gaze up to his face. You swallowed before questioning:
“Can you be?”
A low pleased growl rumbled in Friday’s chest, and you were so unused to hearing the monster outside of your mind that the noise made the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end.
“COMPLETE CONNECTION.” He instructed and pressed his warm flat face into yours, making you flinch. He nuzzled his face into yours with something you construed as affection and you closed your eyes reflexively. His manner had changed so quickly. He really was much less … overwhelmingly terrifying, when you did as you were told. You consciously sought out the relief of surrender you’d found the week before, doing your utmost to push down the urge to flee rising in your chest. You found your voice, weak though it was.
“Will it hurt?”
The answer was immediate. “VERY MUCH.” He was still rubbing his face into yours. You felt the blood drain from your cheeks and your arms and legs went stiff unbidden. Your useless shallow breaths left you feeling as though you were suffocating. You arched your back away from the creature to stop him rubbing his face against you and searched out his lidless eyes desperately.
“Will you, treat me nicely?” You recognised that you were nervously tap-tap tap tapping your fingers against his chest and to your surprise he mirrored the gesture on your lower back. You weren’t sure if it was comforting or unnerving. “Like you promised?”
“NEXT TIME.” The tears which had been welling in your eyes spilled over your cheeks for the first time and you gasped a few breaths in an attempt to stop feeling like you were about to faint. Well, that was that then. You wiped your tears away on the wrist of your only free arm and nodded.
“Okay.”
Your ankles and wrist were released and you watched with horrified fascination as Friday raised one of his thin fingers to his mouth and without warning or seemingly any hesitation, bit off half of it. You flinched. He swallowed the severed digit and pressed the bleeding remnants to your lips, which you kept in a tightly pinched line.
“DRINK.” He commanded, and with great reluctance you slowly parted your lips to allow the bleeding stump entrance to your mouth. He pushed the digit within and poked at your tongue seemingly without pain - his blood was flowing quickly; it was surprisingly thin and extremely sour. You grimaced as you tried to force yourself to swallow but your body struggled against you. After a couple of false starts you managed to force the ichor down your throat and were rewarded with a low purr emanating from the chest you were pressed against. What had you agreed to?
Suddenly, all you could hear was an incredibly loud and piercingly shrill noise: it was so loud that it was hurting you. You cried out in surprise and pain, raising your hands to your ears and screwing your eyes shut on reflex, writhing in agony. Covering your ears slightly muffled the noise, but it grew louder and louder and louder AND LOUDER AND LOUDER AND LOUDER until you couldn’t bear the pain. You screamed, but you realised with cold terror that you couldn’t even hear yourself over the screeching. You tried to open your eyes but found that you couldn’t. You felt growing pressure on your lids, until it felt like someone was pressing their thumbs as hard as they could into your eyeballs. You screamed and thrashed, frantically trying to both cover your ears and scratch away hands on your face which weren’t even there. Through your nightmare, you were dimly aware of being pushed down onto your back when a familiar voice permeated your mind.
“FOCUS.”
With tears streaming down your face, you tried to centre all of your attention on the voice and to your relief the noise and pressure on your eyes both started to ebb. The noise kept fading and fading until it was gone, but there was nothing left in its stead - were you deaf? You opened your eyes in panic and found that whilst your lids now opened, you still couldn’t see anything. You hammered your fist on the floor to see if you could hear the noise, but nothing permeated the quiet. You felt your lips part in horror, as everything except the weight on your chest was quiet and dark. You screamed and thrashed violently against the weight pressing against you until a warm hand took yours and guided it to familiar coarse hair. You were relieved to find that you weren’t alone, even if you couldn’t see or hear your company. You used both hands to paw at Friday’s face, chest and mane and the touches were surprisingly soothing to you. It was so peculiar to touch him that your attention was drawn to the action despite the circumstances. You found that he had long, tapered ears hidden within his hair and the concept that he’d need something as common as ears to perceive the world around him was almost funny.
Cold claws pressed against your throat and you writhed under the touch. Laboriously slowly, the pointed tips were pressed into the middle of your chest between your collar bones until they pierced the skin. You screamed in pain and grabbed the arm pressing down on you to try to push it away, but it was too strong. With fresh terror, you felt claws tear into the flesh of your chest, racking you with panic as stabs of rending pain shot out from your chest over the rest of your body. You couldn’t tell if you were crying or screaming or both. You felt your blood spill out over your sides onto the floor and thrashed violently against your attacker only to have your hands pinned roughly either side of your head. You felt the eerie ripping of your flesh being torn back from your bones and renewed your frantic attempts at escape, pure animal instinct kicking in as the worst pain you’d felt in your life buffeted you. You felt pressure pushing from the middle of your chest out to your side and felt a crunch which you realised with horror was your rib splintering. You struggled to breathe as one rib after another was cracked out of the way of your chest cavity. You felt like you were drowning, coughing up blood and bashing your head roughly against the floor in an attempt to at least not have to feel the pain any longer. You felt hair brush against your lips and then pressure inside your chest and suddenly despite the white hot pain firing all over your torso, you could breathe again. You felt even more painful tugging and rending within your chest and realised with dawning dismay that Friday was pushing his face inside you. Something heavy was ripped out from your left side and with coarse hair tickling at your face and the most torturous pain you’d ever experienced shuddering through your entire body, you finally understood what was happening: he was eating your heart.
The realisation pushed you to the edge of hysteria, but a question still managed to permeate the fog of panic in your mind: why weren’t you dead?
You were breathing easily despite the flat faced demon forcing his whole head inside your chest cavity in order to eat your heart. The pain was even starting to ebb away.
You shivered, dimly aware that something else was happening but extremely reluctant to find out what it was.
The skin on your cheeks and arms started to prickle pleasantly as the last of the suffering faded away. The rending and snapping sensations from within your chest were now strangely painless. You felt goosebumps start to emerge over your arms and legs as a feeling of new power, the likes of which you’d never before experienced and had no frame of reference for, bloomed from within your chest and started to spread out over your whole body. Your inner thighs started to tingle and warm and you felt your face get hot as you arched against the pressure on your chest. Delirium was settling over you, making it increasingly difficult for you to attempt to comprehend anything outside enjoyment of the new sensations overwhelming you. You felt giddy as you strained against the pressure restraining your arms and were pleased to find them released. There was a pleasing fluttering in your belly and hot pleasant prickles over your skin as a whole, which you reveled in. As the sensations intensified, you shuddered as a wave of tingling pleasure washed over you.
You tangled your fingers in Friday’s mane before reaching up to grab a smooth curved horn roughly, using the handhold as leverage to help you wrap your legs around him to press yourself entirely against his warm skin. With the increased surface contact, the shuddering stings of pleasure shooting over your chest, thighs and core intensified still further, causing your mouth to loll open. You were dimly aware that you were making noises of desperation, but without your hearing it was impossible to tell whether they were whimpers or screams. As far as you could tell, Friday was completely ignoring your begging for him, and you felt him rend another piece of flesh from your chest. Luckily, physical stimulus didn’t actually seem necessary for whatever this was. You gripped onto him hard and arched into him as you felt a release building inside you. When it finally broke, it was closer to a twisted religious experience than an orgasm. Your sense of self completely departed you, with the only thing occupying your mind being the crashing roar of pleasure battering and overwhelming your remaining senses. Before you knew it, you were violently seizing, thrashing against the floor with your jaw clenching and your eyes rolling back painfully in your skull.
The last things you remembered before being completely engulfed were claws in your hair and thin fingers gently caressing the back of your neck, cradling your head against warm hide.
