Chapter Text
Gerard--Gerry, as it seemed to recall--Keay was a name that kept resurfacing for the Distortion currently calling itself Michael. It piqued his interest, in those early days of when it was still trying to put all of its pieces back together. The sting from the collapsed ritual, the loss of his friend Gabriel--the worker of clay--, and the horror of being forced into this new being...it was overwhelming. And not in the way that the Distortion enjoyed, with spinning colors and shifting forms that drove people to madness. No, this made it wince and cower. It was awful. He was supposed to make people feel that way, and here he was, feeling trepidation at its own confusing existence.
So it had been following the young man around for a while. The rest of it, the other parts of It Is Not What It Is, whispered that this wasn't necessary and it should just try to gather itself and feed. But it decided it had to figure this out.
So one day Michael chose to open its door inside Gerry's abode. He looked around, not immediately spotting the other, before glancing to an open doorway where music poured out.
Michael silently crept forward, spotting Gerry in this room, heavily decorated with shelves of paraphernalia and candles, with posters hung on every surface. His eyes were closed, relaxing and listening to the music as he took a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the open window in the room.
It smiled, trying to keep its buzzing form as still as possible as he stepped right behind Gerry and plucked the cigarette from his fingers.
"Smoking isn't good for you, Gerry Keay. Or do you want to become one of the Mother's little puppets? That's not right for you."
Gerard felt like his mother was getting stronger, stronger but more erratic. Every time she came back she seemed... wilder, and it was becoming harder to hide from her how much he was doing that she did not approve of. Burning every Leitner he could find, and now working with Gertrude, which didn't explicitly go against anything she stood for or anything, since she had always claimed to be loosely on the same side as Gertrude if not the Institute. Still, she didn't like it, he could tell that. If she had a single maternal bone in her body, Gerard would say that maybe she was jealous. In her own twisted way, maybe she was.
Did she know that he planned on asking Gertrude to try and destroy the page? Not Know, Gerard had enough of the Beholding's favour to be able to recognise it in others, and his mother did not have it. But she was treacherous and could recognise treachery in others, and she always seemed to know when Gerard was keeping something from her. Like, for instance, plotting her death.
Still, he had a break at the moment while she had disappeared back into the book. That usually meant he had at least a few days, sometimes even weeks. So he could relax, at least a little, and tonight he planned on watching TV, maybe having a lazy wank and a bath. Right now he was enjoying a cigarette and the fresh air on his face. That didn't last long.
His eyes snapped open and he stepped quickly backwards, thankfully away from the open window.
"Michael?" he said, before he had time to even process what he was seeing.
It couldn't be. He was dead. Gertrude had said he'd died on an Institute mission. What's more, this didn't look quite like Michael. Well it did, but... wrong somehow, in a way he couldn't quite work out. His voice didn't sound quite like his friend's had, either.
But... Michael had called him Gerry. That's exactly what he used to call him.
Michael blinked, seeming to wince for the briefest of moments at the name spoken allowed, before he gave a half-shrug.
"In a way," he answered vaguely, eyes ringed with all sorts of vibrant colors darting away. "And you... you are Gerry Keay, yes?"
"I've been called that, yeah," Gerard said warily, folding his arms over his chest, eyeing this figure more closely.
Of course it couldn't be Michael. An entity of one of the powers, then, taking the face of his old friend? To upset him... or to gain sympathy? He didn't have the full power of the Eye, not like somebody who had fully pledged to it. He had only... an affiliation, which very occasionally gave him helpful knowledge, but he had no real control over it. And he couldn't use it to Know any information about who, or what, this figure was.
"Who are you, then?"
"That is...ha, a rather difficult question actually," It laughed humorlessly. "I have been trying to figure out that myself. I think I am...something new."
The grin widened, the too-many pointed teeth showing its aggression, when it continued.
"You have been working with Gertrude Robinson. I'm surprised she didn't tell you what happened to Michael Shelley. Hm, the whole truth, I mean. He did not die. He--we--became one. And now we are me. Understand?"
Its elongated fingers steepled before interlocking, a simple example of a complicated circumstance.
Looking directly at him hurt Gerard, hurt his brain because he was hard to perceive and hurt his heart because he truly did look so much like his friend.
No, he didn't understand. That is, he understood the words. But not exactly what they meant. That didn't make any sense, why would Gertrude have told him that if it wasn't true? She wasn't exactly the sort to be indirect to save people's feelings, for one.
"No, I don't. If you were a 'we' then who were you before?"
He still didn't believe it. This was a trick, it had to be.
The Distortion tilted its head, joyous laughter bubbling up from within it at the other's confusion. It fed him, took away the Wrong feelings of this whole conversation.
"I will tell you, I suppose, because you keep popping up in my thoughts for some reason. I am the Distortion. A part of It Is Not What It Is, or the Spiral, as some of you related to that Institute call it. Names are not very important to us."
It concentrated and stilled its form again so Gerry could look closer at it, though instincts screamed that that was Wrong, so Wrong. He was supposed to be afraid, confused.
Please allow me this. I want to discover what I am, then I can reap what you seek. This is necessary to our cause. And perhaps this boy could be of use to us one day.
"And I was also Michael Shelley. But when we were pushed together, he was Twisted--"
Its interlocked fingers twisted together impossibly, making horrendous cracking and snapping sounds that the monster seemed to pay no mind to.
"--Into me."
The part of Gerard that was part of the Eye, the part of him that sought knowledge (and that he rebelled against with every book burning), told him that the... thing was speaking the truth. But the rest of him screamed that it was a lie.
"Okay. So I believe that you're part of the Spiral. And you killed Michael. And now you're using his face to mock me." he said angrily, althought that still didn't make any sense to him either.
Why him, after all? He wasn't an entity, he wasn't a servant of a power, he didn't even work for the Institute. Sure, he'd done damage to the powers, even killed some people, but he hadn't done anything in particular to the Spiral, nothing to warrant him being silenced. He wasn't very important at all.
He found himself staring into that face, the one that he recognised as a friend, somebody who he thought he would have all the time in the world to get to know better. A lump was forming in his throat. He felt his hands shake as he fumbled in his pocket for another cigarette. Whatever was happening here, he needed one.
Michael frowned, shaking its head and disconnecting its melded hands as if it were nothing. The cigarette he had taken was mysteriously missing now.
"What do you consider me, a Stranger? Stealing faces to mock people is more into their territory, though I suppooooose our fears occasionally bleed together," it hummed, buzzing again excitedly before stilling itself.
"You want to relax," It noted before inhaling deeply and blowing out a brightly colored, swirling mist that danced about his face. "That should help. Now, listen to me. Gertrude Robinson--did she ever tell you why she was bringing Michael Shelley, who knew Nothing about Us, into Sannikov Land? Why would she ever do something like that?"
It laughed once, sharply, piercing the rose-tinted air for a moment.
"I believe an apt description for him would be...a sacrificial lamb.”
"I consider you a liar," Gerard countered, trying not to look at his hands "That's like, your whole deal."
He wasn't totally sure how these lies served this creature, just that there was no way he could just believe all of this.
There wasn't time to react and step away before the mist swirled about him, and he found his shaking hands unclench, relax. It felt kind of familiar to getting high, not that he had done that for a long time. He'd needed a clear head the last few months.
"What the fuck was that?" he demanded, shaking his head as though to try and dispel the drug, even though.... he already was beginning to feel as though he didn't want to stop its effects. It felt nice.
"She... no. She didn't."
In fact, he had known very little about the mission. He hadn't known Gertrude beforehand, and Michael hadn't seemed to know a great deal about it. He had mentioned being concerned for Gertrude, this little old lady, which had seemed strange when Gerard finally met Gertrude who was far from a fragile old woman. She hadn't told him any details about Michael's death, and he hadn't really asked. Casualties seemed to be common for the Institute.
"You're saying she did it on purpose? Why?"
"Just a piece of me, that's all," Michael said passively before his hands shifted, becoming a bit more normal, less sharp, albeit still a bit too big. He took Gerry's hands, then, gently tracing over the tattoos, the rings, the chipped fingernail polish. And for the world, for its life, he couldn't understand why.
"To stop our ascension, Gerry Keay. To stop us from rising into power. Do you know what it feels like to be...near your completion and have it all...crammed into a body you never wanted? An existence that was never meant to be?"
He was trembling. How odd.
Gerard's hands were shaking again, but for a different reason now. He was beginning to believe it. This touch... it felt so familiar. So wrong, and yet... he remembered. Remembered that Michael Shelley had held his hands like this, once before, as they were realising that perhaps they wanted to try to be something besides friends. That when Michael got back, perhaps they would see what happened. But then he had never come back.
"Oh," was all he could manage to that, as he realised that perhaps, maybe, that did actually sound a lot like Gertrude Robinson.
"Is he... are you... how much of him is... left?" he said quietly, and made himself look into that impossible face.
Michael felt itself stop as it looked into Gerry's dark eyes. Something inside him knotted up. Why was he studying his face, so determined? He didn't like it. Too much vulnerability. Needed to conceal.
"I...no," he said, pulling his hands away and turning, form beginning to vibrate again. "This...this is too much. I'm not supposed to feel this much. I need it to stop. Stop looking at me like that."
"Please, just tell me that. Is he gone?" Gerard said with a note of desperation in his voice, stepping away and looking down at the floor, at his scuffed boots he kept on even inside the house, just in case he had to leave at a moment's notice.
"Difficult to say," Michael muttered, shaking his head. "I have all his memories, but I don't...feel particularly attached to them most of the time. But sometimes...feelings...feelings bleed over sometimes. Anger, hurt with Gertrude. Betrayed. With you, it's different. Stupid." He laughed. "I wanted to hold your hands simply...because. Why is that? Why did I want to connect our mouths? That has no purpose to me, not now."
Gerard took a moment to let those words sink in. The sense of loss didn't feel any less. He didn't know how to feel. He felt angry at Gertrude as well, and hurt, and.... confused.
"But that's why you came to find me? Because of the part of you that's... him?"
But this wasn't him. Just a memory.
"I suppose so," Michael said, slowly turning back to face Gerry. "Yes. Your name among others kept popping up. I wanted to look into it. I need to try to rid myself of the connection to all of his memories. It's difficult."
He tilted his head, then, with another grin, form beginning to vibrate excitedly again.
"I suppose we will just have to reacquaint ourselves. I am the Distortion, Michael."
He wasn't sure if he was happy that he was apparently so important to Michael that his name was now haunting this being that had taken his form. No, he wasn't. Maybe one day he would be. Right now it was too raw to think about. He thought he'd already mourned, but he guessed there was room for more.
"If you want to get rid of the connections to his memories, why reacquaint yourself with me?"
"Ah."
Michael's form seemed to waver, change, glitch, for only a moment before he returned to a relative normal state, eyebrows creased in visible worry now.
That was. A perfectly reasonable question. One that he had been avoiding, it seemed.
"Ah. My actions do not always make sense to humans," he said, not looking Gerry in the eye. "Or to...myself. It felt right, I..."
Ah, that's what it was.
"I needed to Know. A tether to the Eye still remains, it seems," he concluded. "That makes sense, I suppose. Michael Shelley was an assistant to the Archivist for a time."
He... felt like he believed him. Not just his words but his attitude, his worry. Maybe that was weakness on his part. After all, he was part of the Spiral. Was it just because he looked like Michael? Gerard looked at him again, and felt like he was developing a headache.
"Yeah, I understand that," he said with a sigh "Needing to Know, I mean."
He flexed his fingers, looking at the tattoos of eyes on his finger joints.
"I like those," Michael stated, pointing at Gerard's knuckles, the ink stained on them. "They would be even better if the pupils were swirling, though. Maybe you could get one of those, too."
This is pointless. You are doing nothing.
"Speaking of, would youuuu like to see the rest of me? Ah, not this body--"
That was Wrong, no, Wrong and made him feel hot and just, just, Wrong and human .
"The-the corridors. Would you like to examine them?"
Yes, see now? I was coaxing him into a false sense of security so he would be more willing prey. Or to become a predator, if he so chooses.
"I mean," Gerard said with a small laugh "I did most of these myself so I guess that depends on me."
During nights overwhelmed with obsession, unable to sleep, stressed and afraid, he would sometimes add another small tattoo. He probably had hundreds by now, which showed how many sleepless nights he'd had.
"The... what?" he said warily "I don't know about that. This has all been.... a lot."
Michael hummed and nodded, taking a step back. He didn't want his presence to be uninvited. Not with this one. Though he enjoyed all the confusion and unease Gerry was giving off, it wouldn't do to completely startle him off now.
Still...
"You smell lovely," he admitted, a large bony hand snatching him by the wrist and pulling him close. "Even with the vapors, you are still so hurt and confused. Allow me to feed on you, just for a moment."
The sudden contact took him by surprise, and he found himself pulled closer before he had time to react.
He'd known the thing wasn't human, obviously, but maybe hadn't fully appreciated it until now. But he was too wound up right now to feel afraid. Feed on his emotions? His hurt? Fuck that.
"Feed on what? Me feeling like I'm losing my fucking mind? Cos I feel like that every day." he placed a bold hand on Michael's chest and tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped.
It's not him. He's too far gone to be the same person, no matter what he looked like. Even if... even if it would be nice to pretend.
"Perhaps that is the reason I remembered you, then," Michael said with a laugh, delighted at the other's reaction. He pushed the other's hand back down, a feeble attempt, and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, absorbing the pain, the confusion. It hurt, more than others he fed on, but perhaps this was a necessary pain. Perhaps this was an obstacle he had to overcome, separating feelings in order to pull in more fear. Yes, that sounded right.
His tongue darted out, curling up the tender flesh of his neck languidly, savoring the flavor as he held him close.
Gerard stood still, thinking that he probably should be afraid. This was a monster after all, and Gerard was just a human, comparatively very fragile.
Oh. He shivered, leaning his head back, baring his neck. Maybe that was a dangerous idea, but... sometimes he liked to live dangerously.
"Trying to confuse me more?" he murmured.
"Oh?" Michael uttered into Gerry's ear at the sudden change in energy, shoulders shaking with contained snickers. "No, I was just tasting. But you...you feel warmer, and you stopped struggling. This is different than what I am used to. You are a funny one, Gerry Keay."
"I didn't realise the tasting was literal," he said, looking at Michael, the confusing way he seemed to be both physical and.... something else. Even the physical part of him wasn't exactly like the Michael Shelley he had known, he didn't think. He was sure he was shaped differently, but maybe his memory was wrong.
"It is. Sometimes. You aren't scared of me?" Michael hummed with a grin, gently stroking the others face, half-curiously, half-mockingly. "No, you seem...hmm, excited, almost. Why is that?"
He paused, and considered. He didn't feel scared. That was probably foolish. No, he knew he should be, he wasn't that much of a fool. He knew it wasn't Michael. Not his Michael.... well, not his Michael, but.... Michael Shelley. This wasn't him. There was nothing that stopped this thing from... absorbing him into the Spiral, eating him, either physically or metaphorically. He knew that it was dangerous. But yet he also knew.... that it didn't want to. Or not fully, anyway.
"Same reason you are, I expect," he shot back, closing his eyes, feeling those strange fingertips on his cheek.
"Don't be so sharp towards me, I'm making you feel nice," It said softly, voice dropping into something resembling a purr.
Why was Michael still interested in pursuing whatever...this was? The unease and confusion had lessened and had turned into...interest, want. All from a lick? Humans were indeed very amusing. Perhaps he just wanted to draw this out and play with Gerry, see his reactions.
"I want you to do that again," The Distortion decided, turning to push Gerry against the wal. He pressed up behind him, slathering his tongue up the back of his neck, over one of the eye tattoos.
"Sorry, instinct, I guess."
He'd often been told he had a smart mouth. Too fond of talking back, never mind the consequences. And yeah, it had got him into trouble before. But it had got him out of it too.
"You what--- oh!"
Before he had time to even process what was happening.... that was happening. Gerard gasped, face against the wall, feeling again that he should feel afraid that he could just be.... tossed around like a doll. He should be afraid. What he was was... turned on . Shit.
Michael laughed with something akin to triumph. The human was relinquishing control to it. Foolish, but well, this made it all the more interesting. He knew it wasn't his former friend, but still he allowed this. And the smell coming off of him now was different: it was filled with animalistic pheromones.
"Ohhhhh, my. I see. Your body wants to be bred," It teased, hips rocking against him from behind. "But your mind is still catching up. Oh, this is fun, I like this."
Fuck. Maybe he'd rather just be afraid for his life. It made it easier.
Bred? It couldn't mean that literally... right? No. Although there was a part of him that... well. The use of that word in particular sent a strange thrill through him.
"I didn't know you... entities... could do that. Fuck, I mean. Or I might have had a different approach," he said, a little breathless, but determined not to be so easily dominated, rocking his hips firmly back in return, grinding himself against the thing's pelvis.
"That is a rather crude way to put it," Michael began with a frown, "But yes, sometimes we bring other beings into existence by fornicating with others. It would certainly create a lot of fear to know that what you would refer to as a 'monster' is growing inside of you, don't you think?"
A hum from deep in its throat sounded at the rough grinding, and it found this body's stomach knotting in anticipation. What was this? Old instinct from whatever remaining humanity he had left? How much of Michael Shelley really controlled it, and how much of it was the unseen movements of the rest of its body, the rest of the Twisting Deceit?
No, no it shouldn't think about all that right now. It wasn't good to think about all that. That grinding, it, it felt right. No need to worry itself with the whys right now.
Ah. So maybe it was that literal. That was... a little more frightening. No, very frightening. He shouldn't find that enticing at all. He didn't. He didn't!
Gerard didn't know what to make of the confusing mess of feelings, the fact that he had been attracted to Michael Shelley, sure, and maybe that lingering feeling was part of this. But this creature didn't act like him, and he was still... well. Rubbing up against him.
He was wearing a loose, black, androgynous looking skirt that hung to past the knees, something soft and comfortable for wearing around the house, and he realised suddenly both how thin the material was and also how much it was riding up from the contact between their bodies.
"Is that the only reason? Breeding? You never do it... for fun?"
"Isn't that what it's for? I mean, intercourse is how animals procreate," Michael stated, eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Why would it be for any other reason?"
Oh, the garment that was covering his lower half was beginning to roll up. Its stomach twisted in excitement at this and quickly, it was tugging at the fabric, allowing it to fall to the floor.
It wanted to, to touch the bare skin there. It wanted to connect with Gerry Keay, intimately.
So the Distortion gripped his bare hip, his thigh, and purred, "Hmm, tell me this other way you do it, then."
"It just feels nice, that's all. I think maybe you can feel that."
That wasn't the Eye feeding him hints. Just a hunch, from the way Michael was grinding against him. The way he ripped off Gerard's skirt.... The way he was touching him. Unless this was some particularly devious trick of the Spiral.... well, he couldn't discount that, he supposed.
Was he actually going to fucking do this? Gerard had done some batshit things in his time, slept with some really sketchy people, and this was probably still the worst idea he'd ever had.
He twisted so that his back was to the hall, lifting one leg to hook around Michael's waist, firmly pressing their hips together, his arms twining around Michael's waist. He could still stop this at any time. This could just be a playful little flirtation with a monster.
"It usually starts like this," he said, and kissed him.
Ohh.
A pleasant buzz of energy crackled throughout Michael's form when their lips met, gently at first. The Distortion quickly flipped through Michael Shelley's memories--he had not done this too many times. The word 'shy' popped up as an answer to why. The lip movements were a bit clumsy and haphazard because of that. It irked him. He didn't want this silly human to have the upper hand.
A wicked grin blossomed into the kiss as an idea began to form, and his door materialized in the doorway behind Gerry. He pushed him against it, and felt his body from both sides, warm and full of life. Another low hum was pulled from deep within.
He placed Gerry's hand on the doorknob and broke the kiss, whispering against his lips, "Why don't you open it?"
A quick flash of sadness passed through Gerard's mind at the knowledge that he never got to kiss the real Michael, much as he wanted to. This... he wasn't sure this was how it would be. It felt like kissing somebody live with electrical energy, as though any second he was going to get a shock.
He felt the door against his back and got the oddest feeling as though he was being sandwiched between two people, rather than one semi-person and one door. Of course, the doors were part of Michael's being.
His fingers trembled slightly on the doorknob with the intense longing to turn it, to open it. But he also didn't want to give up any advantage, not when he was already at a disadvantage by being just a human.
"I think that's probably a bad idea," he murmured, giving Michael's lower lip a little nip between his teeth.
"Hmph, you're no fun ," Michael pouted before going back in for more. Now, its tongue traced Gerry's bottom lip, giving a small warning before it thrust it inside the other's mouth, dancing around the human's own tongue. Its saliva was soothing, and made the other almost giddy. Made for easier prey. "I can do more in there than I can out here, you know."
Like keep you for a while.
He opened his mouth automatically, eyeliner-ringed eyes sliding closed, swirling his tongue around Michael's. Gerard wasn't... fully aware of why he began to feel a little foggy, a little less wary.
"...like what?" he murmured, before greedily capturing Michael's mouth again, fingers dancing over his shoulders, smoothing down his arms, exploring.
Michael chuckled into the kiss before breaking it once again.
"Alter my body a lot more easily, for one thing. I could have you sink into a sea of my hair, hold you in my hands..." Its throat thrummed at the sensation of Gerry's hands touching him curiously.
"I could also create spaces for... interesting positions to be...played with in. I think that's something some of you fantasize about, isn't it? Michael Shelley wanted you to bend him over and have your way with him over a table, but was too mortified to ever say anything," it added with a cheeky giggle. "Funny how some of you like relinquishing control."
Gerard shivered, his mind running overtime with the potential. Was this an intense fantasy of his? Perhaps. Why was this a bad idea again? He couldn't remember.
Oh. Very, very dimly there was a dull feeling in his heart at that. He knew he was still very sad about Michael Shelley. But that clashed with how... kind of out of it he was feeling, all of a sudden.
"Yeah, I like that," he shared breathlessly, inhibitions suddenly significantly lowered "I love the idea of being held and controlled sometimes. I look at art of people being held up by tentacles and stuffed with them and I like to fantasise that's me being fucked in every hole all at once. I love thinking about fucking in public. I don't know if it's because of the Eye but I like the thought of people watching me getting used. I--"
Oh god he needed to shut up. The only thing he could think of to shut himself up was to kiss Michael again, hard, not realising that this was a big part of the issue.
Michael shook with laughter as he was kissed again, yes, this was a very fun toy. It disconnected abruptly, taking in what the human had said, and grinned down at him again.
"The genetalia in between my legs now is sort of like a tentacle now."
It was most definitely unfurling. It hadn't done that before, hm.
"Do you want to see?"
Without waiting for an answer, his form morphed, and his clothes were gone. Michael, like Michael Shelley, was pale without tattoos, thin but with broad shoulders. The phallus though, that had changed, he was fairly certain.
The usually tightly woven spiral was beginning to unwind and thicken a bit.
It needed friction and darted between Gerry's thighs, rubbing at the cloth separating them. Hm.
Perhaps they wouldn't make it inside the corridors. This was okay, for some reason.
"This goes," Michael said plainly before ripping off the black undergarments. It purred as the head of its cock? rutted between the lower lips, feeling the heat and want and wetness there.
"Eager," Michael muttered, though it wasn't sure if it was talking to the human or itself.
He did want to see. He admittedly hadn't really thought about Michael's genitalia, probably because he was mostly the shape of a human. But also it was also slightly... not. So it made sense that it would be something different.
"Oh, wow," he murmured, his pale skin flushing, staring at the... well, he wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that he wanted it inside him.
He gasped, flattening his back against the door, spreading his legs. He needed it. He needed it now.
"Fuck me," he said, less commanding in his voice than pleading, rocking his hips up towards him, angling himself to try and slip the strange cock up into him
Oh, my, what a nice reaction.
"As you wish," The Distortion purred and pressed the head inside of the other.
A gasp was torn from it at the sensation of warm slick encompassing him. Hmm, perhaps the humans were onto something. This did feel nice, and it wasn't even trying to breed.
Then, it wrapped a hand around each of Gerry's thighs and hoisted him up into his arms. With this he began fucking him earnestly against the door, against itself. Its tongue lolled at the sensation before it drew closer, going to sink its teeth onto Gerry's shoulder, through the fabric and into the yielding flesh. It bit for purchase, as a mark of ownership, and perhaps just because it was enjoying this.
Gerry moaned desperately, wrapping his legs around Michael's waist, gripping onto his shoulders,
"Oh fuck, oh fuck!"
This was incredible, he couldn't even remember why he might have had any doubts. Surely this was the most important thing in the world, this, right here, right now.
"Yes," he hissed through his teeth as he was bitten "Fucking mark me..."
He loved being bitten, covered in hickies, all of that, but most of his partners didn't have teeth that were so... sharp.
"You were--hah, already a bit touched by us before I met you," Michael said with a breathless laugh. "But yes, now you are quite marked. You want more, though?"
He wasn't going to deny bringing him closer to the rest of It Is Not What It Is, to become a possible candidate of servitude. Yes, this boy with long black hair and ink on his skin would be so very lovely painted in madness.
So, he obliged, biting again at the juncture between his shoulder and neck. A bit of blood welled up, and Michael's tongue swiped across it. The singing, blissful, maddening energy of the Distortion, of the Spiral, was on his tongue, on his flesh, in his blood and in his cunt. It was beautiful.
"I'll have you yet," he whispered against his neck with another wicked chuckle.
He'd thought so. It was why fractals always came out in his art. Even his art of the Eye. He'd never wanted it, though. He didn't want any of them. He only aligned with the Beholding because it was the least obtrusive.
Still, it was very hard to think about all of that right now. Powers, and entities, and fears. He wasn't afraid right now. He felt like he was in ecstacy. He wanted all of Michael all over him, inside him, around him, twisting over every inch of him inside and out and everywhere.
"Ah!" he cried out, a mix of pleasure and pain at Michael's teeth, pulling his shirt down his neck to expose more skin.
He heard Michael's words but struggled to process them fully, or at least take them seriously. At least he still had enough presence of mind to not immediately say that he could be had. Even if a large part of him wanted that.
"It's a shame I have no spawn to give you yet," Michael continued, thrumming with pleasant energy, enjoying the slapping that their bodies were making. He curved deeper into Gerry and still had more--his phallus was slender, but incredibly long when stretched out. So he simply curved back around towards the opening again and fed more inside, doubling the thickness and wriggling happily at the added tightness.
"That's, ah, good," He gasped, gripping his shoulders and beginning to tremble. "I suppose I will just have to fertilize you without them instead."
That was a shame his still-slightly-drugged mind agreed absently, before his brain caught up and he realised that obviously he didn't want that, and he'd probably had a lucky escape.
"Mm, fuck, that feels good," he gasped, head tucked in to Michael's shoulder, not being able to fully visualise exactly how the creature's dick was moving inside him and just that it felt incredible.
He felt his cunt involuntarily squeeze around it, shuddering, slipping a hand down to rub himself roughly, moaning loudly and not caring at all about how thin the walls were in his house. Let anybody hear who wanted to.
"Yesss," he growled. "Cum inside me,"
Michael was about to snap, 'do not command me,' but instead all that came out was a half growl, half-groan as he grabbed a fistful of his hair and reached climax.
And Gerard Keay was a part of it, of It Is Not What It Is, just for a moment. It showed him visions of dancing colors and ever twisting fractals in its ecstasy, as they clung to each other. It showed him the glee of the chase of someone marked, the satisfaction of all the lost people wandering inside of itself, the strength it gave him. It showed him the twisting paths that led straight to the center of all of it.
But then Michael came down from its vision, panting, comfortably tight and warm inside of Gerard with all of his seed. It bit him again, gently, tiredly, on the neck, thanking him.
"Fuck," he whined, feeling his body and mind become totally overwhelmed.
As a teenager, Gerard had experimented with different kinds of drugs, including hallucinogens, and had experienced more than a few drug trips in his time. He'd experienced the ones that made you feel like you were experiencing all the love and connection in the universe. This was. Definitely up there with those, and yet he was still present in his body, enough that he could continue rubbing himself desperately, to focus the incredible sensations.
"Oh ," he gasped, as he came hard around Michael's impossible dick, clutching onto Michael and shuddering, feeling suddenly boneless as his legs slipped from around Michael's waist and he slumped up against the door.
Michael gasped and bit down again when Gerard spasmed around its cock, drawing another whine from it which, to some ears, would almost sound cute, demure.
It caught Gerard as he relaxed and fell back onto the door, still holding him close, not wanting to pull out.
He stood, panting on his shoulder, for a minute or two before purring, "Well, you were right. That can be done for pleasure, not just breeding. I rather enjoyed that."
Gerard smiled, a little smugly actually. Turning a monster onto the idea of sex for pleasure purely with his body was... kind of a powerful feeling. He continued to hold onto Michael, partly because he actually felt really worn out, partly because it felt nice, still being so full.
"Me too. You have a lot of... surprises."
"I marked you quite a bit," Michael noted, tracing the teeth marks littering the young man's shoulder up to the neck. "And you liked it. That makes things easier."
It finally retracted from deep within Gerard, some of the excess seed dripping onto the floor as it did so. The phallus began curling again and then, a moment later, Michael's clothes had appeared again, the floor clean.
"I could have done more if you would have opened the door," it huffed before smiling, stroking the other's face. "But we can't always rush into these things, I suppose."
It should have wanted to leave now. But it didn't. It stayed. Michael Shelley would have wanted to stay and hold him afterwards. But that was stupid. What did that do?
"Do you...typically hold the partner after reaching the end of it afterwards?" He asked slowly, uncertainly.
"Oh shit," he laughed as he twisted his head to examine the bite marks as much as he could from that angle "Yeah I mean... I like being bitten."
He made a soft noise of discomfort as he was suddenly empty, shifting his legs to readjust. And while Michael was now reclothed, Gerard was still just wearing a shirt and nothing else. Still, he didn't particularly care about that. He wasn't ashamed of his body
"Forgive me for being skeptical," he said with a raised eyebrow "But most entities I meet want to kill me."
And he still hadn't fully ruled Michael out on that. Still, he'd killed servants of the Powers himself, so was he really so different?
"I... Well. Holding each other after sex releases some chemicals in the brain that make it feel nice. In humans, I mean. I'm not sure about if that'd work for you."
It wasn't something Gerard did a lot either. He was much more the type to hook up and then leave. He only tended to cuddle up with people he was dating, and he definitely wasn't going to date Michael. But... well, he did sort of feel like... it would be nice. God, he felt like a twat.
"I do not want to kill you. Then I would no longer get to study and converse with you, hahaha!" Michael laughed, surprising itself with how warm and genuine it felt. It was Wrong. Bad, Wrong.
It turned away.
"I would...like to stay. But I am not sure that would work. I have exposed myself for too long, been too candid. I'm being called to twist and lie in other whereabouts..."
"I mean, same," Gerard said, feeling probably a much less extreme version of the same thing: after all, his main thing at the minute seemed to be killing entities and stopping powers, and it did seem kind of bad not to destroy an entity just because it was a good fuck.
But then, Michael hadn't done anything bad, not that he'd seen anyway.
"Yeah," he agreed, also feeling conflicted. "Maybe that's for the best."
"Right, then. Goodbye, Gerard Keay. Ah--we should meet at Ellie's Patisserie. At the corner, it's..." Michael waved his hand dismissively, not sure what he was saying. "You know! That name keeps coming to me with you, along with 8 in the evening. Some sort of meeting we had set up--Michael Shelley and you. Not me."
He opened his own door and turned back as he began to close it.
"I'm sure we will be seeing each other again very soon."
Its door creaked close, and a blink later it was gone.
Oh. He had forgotten. It had been such a long time since he and Michael Shelley had decided that. He nodded, numbly, watching Michael leave, and then went to flop down on his rickety old couch, searching about for his cigarettes.