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Dude was smitten , but he'd never use that verbiage (or any at all) to describe the smoldering in his empty chest cavity, that sweltering sweeping inside the devoid, red cavern.
No, not too many people of this day and age would describe the feeling as such, but a prison therapist suggested Dude familiarize himself with "feeling words," and he couldn't stop collecting synonyms. A color-coded word wheel would have been helpful at many points in his life off of the rails.
Smitten.
At first glance, it was just a pathetically sappy word, but it is also a word that's born of the word "smite." A devastating, thundering word. To be struck down, injured, or slain. An attack of deadly or disastrous effect. A pang of morality among cold indifference. To be 'smitten' was to be cut down and afflicted with devastating affection.
It was strange how such a puny, unassuming word could describe something so earth-halting.
Dude was a habitual oggler, but this feeling was much more than a rush of blood to his loins. It made him feel even smaller than that word.
Like most nights, Dude awoke from this dream with (Y/N), wanting to grab the fleeting smell of her perfume before he forgot what it smelled like. As the mist of sleep lifted sufficiently to reveal the red acreage of mountains around his mobile home. It was a dry, rotting world, a burned-out planet in the farthest reach of space, far away from any normalcy. Now and then, there was the swoop of a hawk with an irreconcilable cry above the cicadas' scream, but other than that, there was quiet.
Despite the smiling blue sky, it was as grim as a prison dinner, and Dude was well-acquainted with those.
"Another glorious day in Parody, Arid-zona. I mean, "Paradise," Arizona." Dude griped, slamming a crackled coffee mug down on the sticky laminate countertop.
"Ah," He sighed, peering out the lopsided blinds. "Isn't the Grand Canyon just gorges?" He joked, immediately flipping the slats shut, blocking out the eye-gouging light that was so rudely exacerbating his hangover headache. Despite it being late afternoon, the light showed no sign of lowering despite the falling sun resting inside the mouth of a cactus flower.
The gurgling and sputtering of his yardsale-rescued coffee maker reminded him of his churning stomach, and the pungent smell of black coffee made him want to wretch. As it squealed and spewed into the mug, Dude turned away and leaned against the sink.
"Jesus, that's gross."
Outside, in a similar fashion, Champ was taking advantage of the front yard as (Y/N) shuffled past him awkwardly, looking dazed and displaced like she had just arrived on Earth for the first time.
Slinking up to the steps, (Y/N) swallowed down the gathering silt in her mouth. She couldn't keep waking up from dreams of him.
Just as her knuckles connected with the storm door, Dude shoved outside, coffee mug and a pack of cigarettes in one hand.
"Uh...Hi there," (Y/N) started, startled. "Would you like to take part in a survey?"
"Real funny. Why're you here?" Dude rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the doubling of his pulse and folded his arms over his chest as if that would keep it shut inside. The heavy leather creaked as he shifted his weight and leaned against the doorframe, attempting to block out the debauched smorgasbord on his coffee table.
"Uh..."
(Y/N) tried to resist peaking around him.
Her face began to burn as she forced her gaze to meet his.
Strands of Dude's hair hung petrified and crunchy on lined his forehead, possessed by the Ghost of Hair Gel Past. (Y/N) was sure she could snap them off and use them as chopsticks, but ultimately decided against plucking out his possibly useful antennae.
What if that's how he contacted his birth planet?
((Y/N) wouldn't want to get in the way of P.D.' phone home.')
Just below the flyaway strands lay the cold and annihilating vehemence of his eye: an icepick to the temple. There was a grotesque sea anomaly lurking in the depths of his blue-green eyes.
(Y/N) was frozen, and her velvet pupils grew.
"Uh...no, really! Lately, I've heard people have been having recurring dreams about their neighbors, and I'm here to get to the bottom of it! According to some, these dreams have turned out to be warnings or premonitions. I'm just investigating...Neighborhood watch and all."
Suddenly, Dude knew why she was there but wasn't any less surprised. As he regarded her in hidden fondness, he found her eyes growing brighter and warmer, nearer and nearer, melting through his default hostility.
He wanted to stretch his jaws around her like a viper, envenomate her, and swallow her down.
"Can you cum in-I MEAN, can I come in? Your trailer, I mean." In an instant, (Y/N) had already ruined everything.
"Uh...sure."
With a long screech, the mobile home door closed.
He was on her immediately.
"Clever little rouse. Didja think of that on the way over?"
"H-how else was I supposed to broach the subject?"
He was on her in an instant.
(Y/N) felt her breast and brain ripped apart as his lips claimed hers. In rapid flashes, she imagined the combined heat of their bodies being too much to handle and the sweat beginning to twinkle in the lowlights on their bare flesh like summer stars. She imagined the trail of curly hair leading down to his heavy, swollen cock. She imagined that the tip was already dripping with pre-cum for her. Her body ached with marvelous wounds that pulsed with every heartbeat.
Her cunt was making a wet spot on her panties, screaming for her fingers to move down her pants in hurried circles.
Lust-sunk, Dude pinned her against the bare wall, striking her neck with quick, wet kisses. Without blinking, he reached down, pulled apart the buckle, and ripped down the zipper. His shaking hand dove beneath his boxers to grab a firm hold at the base of his aching cock.
Everything was on the fast track to going the way (Y/N) wanted them to go, but she couldn't help noticing Dude's lack of furniture in between breathless lip-locks and sighs.
"Actually..."
Dude pulled away, looking horrified that (Y/N) may have changed her mind and that he'd have to ice his boner down, but he didn't think he'd be able to get it down, even whacking it with a metal pipe.
"Do you want to come to my house instead?" (Y/N) creaked. "I...have an actual bed."
Dude's shoulders sank in relief, but he was still noticeably taken aback by (Y/N)'s brazenness. His dead fish-gaping turned into a snaring grin, wide and jagged like an animal trap.
"Ladies first," Dude opened the door, motioning for (Y/N) to descend the stairs. Adrenaline buzzing, Dude shuffled down after (Y/N) with his pants held up with one hand.
"Shit, your house is pretty far away." He huffed.
(Y/N) stopped to let him catch up.
(Y/N)'s very humble abode was but a few feet from Dude's trailer, but with his lust an open maw of gnashing teeth and spit, it seemed lightyears away as opposed to a stone's throw.
"Should've brought a snack for the road." He chuckled. "Oh, wait."
Dude sealed the gap between them and descended upon (Y/N), eclipsing her. She snorted, leaning up to kiss him again and again.
Getting stuck in between houses, Dude and (Y/N) heard the loud, unmistakable licking of chops behind them.
Dude swung around. "Champ, stay. Champ. "
He held his finger on the dog until Champ's excited tail came to a halt, and he watched Dude shamble away.
(Y/N) opened the door to her house and led Dude inside and down the miniature hall to her bedroom through the sunlit kitchen.
Using his wiry, scarecrow-like frame, he herded (Y/N) backward to the unmade bed. With her back swarmed in a blanket, her head fell back at the feeling of Dude sucking on the side of her throat. She gripped his shoulders to help anchor her suddenly very wobbly knees.
"Already whining? You're easy." Dude sneered against the wetness he had created between her neck and shoulder. "Heh, I bet you get pretty noisy."
To (Y/N)'s jealousy, there was not a headboard big enough to hold every "notch" of Dude's, yet he was feeling clumsy and unfamiliar with himself. Similarly, (Y/N) felt entirely unaccustomed to nakedness.
Dude was bad, bad news; nursery fears made flesh and sinew; the earliest and most archaic of worries, a carnivore, a predator. But he was still as stone, like prey. Dude was far more frightened of (Y/N) than she was of him, like a bee.
But Dude looked more like a hornet.
No, the whole entire nest. And it just so happened to have just been shaken up like a soda can.
And with each slow, wide lave of his tongue against her pulse, Dude ripped free skin after successive skin, leaving nothing behind red rawness.
Severely affected, (Y/N)'s breathlessness was becoming deafening, and Dude was as proud as the devil. He was cheeky, lecherous, and wrong. All those things very much considered, (Y/N) was still quailing beneath his wolfish-green glare. The alluring hazard drew her in like a siren symphony. His eyes left a memory and stirred in her a wild rebellion. And she was desperate to have her feelings unrequited and life ruined by him.
She craved the third-degree burn of humiliation, of lust, of ecstasy.
She wanted to stitch him up inside her, to lace their innards together.
In (Y/N)'s house that sat in the cold shadow of a hill, without the lights on, Dude could scarcely see her features. She was shrouded like a holy image, an age-eaten thumb-sized portrait in a locket.
Behind his glasses, he looked as grim and grumpy as a prison dinner. (Which Dude was well accustomed to. But he still couldn't handle the slimy, styrofoam-colored scrambled eggs.)
He was in anguish, resisting her. A primal sound in his throat made her cunt draw up tightly with desire, begging to be filled. He dropped his head to her breasts and reached a large, dry hand down her leggings. Her whole body screamed silently to be touched, shaking in alarm.
A wordless cry left her throat when he shoved her sleep shirt up over her bare breasts and his lips wrapped around her left nipple. Without much coaching, (Y/N) was spreading herself obscenely wide for him.
There was a whisper of tearing fabric and a cold gush of air.
"I'm not even gonna bother saying, 'It's okay. I'll get you more,' because I can't afford whatever shit you had on. I'm sorry."
This reminder of his unchallenged strength only increased her need to feel his power between her thighs.
(Y/N) giggled up into his mouth.
"You're an ass!"
"Mhm, and you have a great one." He smirked with a quick swat to her bare bottom. "Now, let's see it."
"Is that a roundabout way of saying you're mine?"
"I think you think too much."
"I think you're thinking for the first time." She teased.
Dude mouthed and gnawed the rock-hard bud until she was so sensitive that she wasn't sure if the pathetic little noises were a plea for him to keep going or to stop. As she cannibalized her, (Y/N) had never been happier to feel like a piece of meat.
Dude switched to the other nipple with a loud, appreciative hum, beginning to give it the same treatment until the drunken dizziness set in. (Y/N) was so focused on what Dude was doing to her breasts that when his thumb began to circle her clit again, she nearly crushed his nose with her chest.
His big hand flexed and hand cupped between your thighs possessively.
"Fuck." He hissed.
One thick finger pushed up into her pussy, trying fruitlessly to reach the source of her longing. Their hard-edged smile frayed as the need rotted their minds.
Dude returned to kissing her recklessly, his lithe fingers like spiders in her hair. He clutched her as if they were both drowning and held her head against his as if she might escape into the air without him. Now, two fingers curled upward inside her. Her slickness was audible as her body greedily sucked him in, mewling in protest each time his masterful fingers retreated.
Quickly shimmying down her body, Dude moved in to tongue her sex, making low, growling noises in his throat like a big cat purring with pleasure. He kindly lashed her from bottom to top. (Y/N)'s lips began to twitch, and her eyes squeezed tight against the sensation. On and on, he licked, sucked, swirled, and flicked his tongue upon her helpless clit, all while crooked his fingers. Not long after, Dude's movements began to become erratic as he ground pitifully against the blankets.
Still, he continued his volley of licks, silently begging her to spasm around his tongue. The scratch of his goatee mixed with his hot mouth made her brain freeze before autopilot kicked in, and she instinctively arched towards him.
Dude's tongue drove into (Y/N)'s hole over and over. He shuddered at the sound of the connection. His lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gratefully. Being primed by Dude, his face buried in her cunt, was hurdling (Y/N) over the edge. Part of her wanted to try and make it last as long as possible, wanting this memory to forever be burned into your brain. The other part of you was too overwhelmed to do anything other than garble unintelligibly and pet his red hair appreciatively.
Shudders wracked her body, and waves of euphoria radiated out from where his mouth was attached.
It was terribly sweet to be so naked and so vulnerable in his presence. With him, (Y/N)'s nerves tangled into sharp, wiry contortions like barbed wire, and she loved it. It stung terribly, and her body sang out for the agonized helplessness, defenselessness, and delectable anguish of being at Dude's complete mercy and tasting his chaos. He was an invasion of her warmth, drugging her will, clouding her better judgment, arresting and dissolving her.
He was her victim as well. Dude was drowning within her cherry sea, her aciborium, her thatch of shadows. Her leggings folded like an accordion around her feet.
The gold dust of secrecy between each fold of skin.
(Y/N)'s hips began to rock rhythmically against Dude's handsome, stubbled face, which made him stop immediately.
She was entering the death throes.
Raising to hover over her again, Dude reached down and led the tip of his raging cock toward her dribbling. He teased it over her wet folds a few times before rolling his hips forward and spearing the fattest part of his length inside.
He moaned as he urged more of his length inside of her, the sensation of her walls compressing around him felt like a velvet-lined vice. His arms came down on either side of her head like great Roman pillars.
With each vacillating plunge, Dude rolled his thumb over her clit.
It felt like the last dream.
A shaky gasp was all you could manage when the flared part of his head stretched you with a burn.
"S-shit..."
Dude paused uncharacteristically for a couple seconds so that the two of them could recuperate after the initial bliss.
But he soon became insistent as he lapped away at her pulse.
"Fuuuck, I can feel your heart on my tongue. Shit, this is really gettin' you good, huh?"
His balls collided with her heavy ass, kneading her tender flesh.
"This is better than the damn dreams. You feel so good on me. God damnit."
Dude's wiry goatee scrubbed against (Y/N)'s sternum.
"You're a bitch, you know?" He pouted. "I have an addictive personality, and now you've got me hooked. You better not get in the way of me getting my fix..."
"Wouldn't even dream of it." (Y/N) managed to peep with his hands around her neck.
She could feel the very dimensions of his lips, the shape of his tongue, and how it first entered her mouth.
Barbed wire coiled tightly in Dude's gut. He wanted to feast on his angel, to make a meal of her, to suck the marrow from her bones.
Dude rumbled. His smile was as loose and sleepy as his movements. But it wasn't out of boredom or disinterest, but out of savoring. Savoring the real her. The her with peach fuzz, a constellation of marks and blemishes, scratches. It was all her without the halo-gleam of a dream. Every inch surrounding him was textured, as lived in.
The realness and the gradual movements coaxed unbelievable wetness from (Y/N)'s grateful insides, crying out in relief at the easing stretch. Dude couldn't remember the last time he had taken anything slowly. Savoring wasn't his forte, but he wished it had been.
Like the forbidden tree of Eden, (Y/N) sat beneath Dude's shadow, imagining his fruit sweetly in her throat. She lay on his cutting block, his blood-anointed altar, a mass of funeral lilies exhaled the odor of their withering. White like the trumpets of the angels of death.
She made him lethal, thirsty for her blood, for his own. And like blood, his touch was fluid, uninterrupted soliloquy, awakening an erotic resonance. Her bones retained the deep bass of his voice as he worked her body vulnerable and the channel of the senses awakened by vibrations.
Their coupling would not die a natural death, and (Y/N) smiled indulgently as he positioned her the way he liked, as if preparing a floral arrangement of limbs, head, and hands, a carnal banquet for the centerpiece on the table he would eat her heart.
Crying needily, (Y/N)'s walls involuntarily clamped down, spasming, blessing her with a genuinely wrecked moan from Dude. The sound plugged through her like a buckshot.
Gripping her hips tightly, Dude intensified the rhythm, pulling back until just the tip was inside before thrusting deep, causing you to stretch around him again and again, as if trying to recreate that initial penetration every following. It gave the sensation of him claiming her over and over.
His teeth woke her from her eye-rolled stupor.
"Rippin' you up." he chuckled into her slick, purpling neck. "Sorry for all the booboos." His voice trailed like ivy vines and tangled around her throat.
Trying her best to verbalize her pleasure in some way, (Y/N) choked out a few garbled words before your voice broke into a sad whine.
"Please, more." She begged, squeezing their bodies together impossibly tight. "Yes...oh, god...so good...more please ."
"More what?" Dude mocked.
"More... uh ..." (Y/N) was at a loss for words."...booboos...?"
"You're fucking hopeless at this." Dude snorted, beginning to drill her into the bed. (Y/N)'s breathless laugh made his heart (and other parts.) clench. The obscene rottenness was boiling inside him. It was a thing that he never found a word for. He would never be satisfied with her. He would always want more and more and more. He would fuck her to death if not kept in check. Having to stop was his divine punishment, but it wasn't near time yet.
The heavy drag of his thick cock through her tunnel of nerve aflame had (Y/N) babbling inconsolably, begging without even realizing it.
"That's it, baby." Dude crooned, satisfied.
His fingers began to circle her swollen clit again. The effect was immediate, a hoarse cry as the pressure of her taut muscles became almost unbearable. She was poised on the edge, listening to warm, beckoning praise.
"Fuck, yes. Ya gonna cum on my cock now, babe?" He sighed dreamily.
(Y/N) sowed her face in Dude's shoulder and nodded frantically. Her hips were hysteric as the new angle allowed her clit to catch against his pubic bone.
"Cum for me, babydoll."
(Y/N)'s eyes could have nearly popped out of her skull.
With one foot in a fairy ring and one in a shark tank, (Y/N) came hard, her hair tangled in elflocks. With the expression of a blind man suddenly struck with sight, Dude bowed under the weight of his annihilation. As the electric shock sank beneath his consciousness,
Bed-ravaged and bone-bruised, (Y/N)'s fuck-sore pussy clenched down on Dude's cock. She dug her teeth into the warm peach of his freckled shoulder to stifle her scream and milked him dry. She wanted to spill the juice of his forbidden fruit and get the bed sticky. Her body was overcome with jolts of intense rapture that freed her from her solid, earthly form, and she collapsed into him.
He was a free trial of Death, and she wanted an annual subscription.
(Y/N)'s vision narrowed to Dude's crooked glasses as burning gushes of cum flooded her cunt. Glued to him by sweat and other fluids, (Y/N) trembled against him.
But Dude wasn't a two-pump-chump (anymore.).
(Y/N) was going to be subjected to two more steady rounds and a halfhearted third.
✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
As (Y/N)'s body came back down to the (thirsty) Earth after the ordeal, her muscles jerking in the blinding afterglow, she felt her entire body hum and glow with boneless contentment.
Dude collapsed into her, smothering her with his naked, sweaty body.
"Fuck, babe...." He said for the millionth time.
Dude hurried to pull (Y/N) under his arm.
"Heh...I didn't peg you as the passionate type." she poked, pleasantly surprised.
"I'm not, but I would like you to peg me," Dude replied far too quickly.
"Shut it." (Y/N)'s mouth drew up into a smile.
She wondered if Dude could hear her titan heartbeat.
Just noticing her surroundings, (Y/N) noticed the shafts of moonlight beneath the slats of the blinds, reaching across their bodies. A personal, intimate visit. In her comforting pearl light, the two were splayed limply over the sheets, shining wet, naked, silvery, and beyond exhausted, listening to each other's breathing even out.
Dude had burned away the entire day, turning (Y/N)'s insides into a puree.
The room smelled slightly salty with sex, like rockpools in the distance. (Y/N) had actually expected Dude to have smelled worse, but the unmasked scent of his perspiration was making her unable to calm down in combination with the briny smell of her desperation and the aroma of a thousand crushed flowers.
"You wanna know something?" (Y/N)'s voice was like cool thunder rolling over the pillow into Dude's ear. The kind that came before spring rain. The kind that would sweep over the glades, renewing everything.
It was calm.
So calm and quiet for once.
Dude felt a stirring in his chest. The stirring of a paper ball inside of a trashcan, crackling as it unfurls.
"Hm?"
"I hate sleeping beside someone else." (Y/N) admitted sheepishly, with the best shrug she could manage while lying on her side. For what could have been a turnoff for many, Dude looked elated.
"I was hoping you'd say that." He sat up and began to follow his clothing trail to the kitchen entrance like breadcrumbs in a forest. He shrugged on the flowing leather jacket in front of the door, cringing at the feeling of it dragging against his cold, sweaty arms. (Y/N), for one, would have preferred to never find out Dude was wearing a jacket over short sleeves.
"See ya." (Y/N) grinned, slouching above her pillow.
"Heh, in your dreams, dearie." Dude winked, giving a halfhearted wave.
She climbs back into bed, sore, heavy, water-logged limbs.
(Y/N) felt the mists of sleep rising up from the ground like tear gas sighing from a canister. Dude's sweaty musk was woven into the sheets. He didn't smell nearly as badly as (Y/N) imagined, she decided as she spooned the too-soft pillow. She tried to project the memory of his long, spindly body in her arms.
A couple yards away, Dude was already sprawled on his condiment-stained couch, the smell of (Y/N) clinging to his skin like a rose mist. It was the very same scent he tried desperately to remember upon waking up, the smell he had begun to associate with the moon herself.
Under the same glare of light, (Y/N) had never been so satisfied being trapped in a room. Seeing her own bedroom in dreams was no longer a mundane yawn of a dream but, instead, the promise of seeing an auburn-headed incubus.
It looked like they would be seeing a lot of each other.
(One had to wonder when they wouldn't be.)