#freakoutside

Towards the sun little moth, towards the sun and burn.

Just dipped my toes into Phillippe smut. I love it. Here's a quick Sam x Phillippe fic, if this gets enough traction I might make a part two. I feel like it's too short 🙃

To sum it up its Phillippe being a pathetic horny loser.

🍄We love pathetic villains 🍄

What happened?

Sam blinked and looked around blearily. His head was spinning and he breathed in sharply when he tried bringing his hands in front of him but failed, tugging at the bindings on his wrists. Then looking around again at the room around him, frowning into the darkness and wriggling his limbs again but to no avail.

It was dark. The only source of light being a glowing red bulb above him. His brows furrowed and he hissed at the pain that seared through his face after the expression, rocking once, twice, then rolling himself onto his side. He groaned, dropping his head down against the softness beneath his head. A pillow? Where the hell was he?

The chemical smell that permeated the air was almost overwhelming. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and he looked up at the ceiling of the room where he sees photos hanging above him. Photos… Oh.

“Lyle?” He called, trying to keep his voice steady, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing. Why the fuck was he tied up in Lyle’s darkroom? Why the fuck was he even tied up at all?

The last thing he remembered… He had been in his old coworkers apartment, looting— exploring. Trying to find a way down to the first floor, like how Jeanne had told him, but there was this crazy, feral dog thing, and then some frightening freak of nature made of eyeballs. He knew he should’ve healed before he went through the door, but hindsight was always 20-20.

Sam huffed, “Lyle, I swear to god if you don’t fucking untie me right now!” He rose his voice even louder that time, yelling towards where he assumed the door would be. His eyes had adjusted more and more to the room as time passed, and he thought that he could make out most of what was inside the room with him. Like the developing table, the shelves that held chemicals and supplies used in photo printing.

His eyes closed and he twisted one of his hands around in a circle, grimacing at the tightening stretch burn of the plastic wrapped around his wrists, “Fucking… goddamn… Boy scout.” He squirmed on the makeshift cot he found himself on, stretching his legs out in front of him and realizing he was bound by his ankles too in a separate knot.

Grateful that, at the very least, he wasn’t hog tied.

Sam inspected the strands of film that tied his limbs together, thinking how much of a waste it was for Lyle to use his precious film to bind him there in this room. A room that had been locked the last time he checked, and yet, Lyle had dragged him inside and laid him down. He looked to the floor then, and he noticed the bloody splotches there. His blood.

He must’ve dragged him here from the bathroom after he failed at killing the thing with all the eyes. He guessed that he was lucky to even be alive right now, he looked up again at the photos hanging above him and he squints at them through the dark. He could’ve sworn… that one was… his apartment door?

Sam startles when the doorknob to the room rattles, looking to it just in time to see his gracious host push open the door and step into the room with the whirring of machinery. He frowns across the room at him, “Untie me, Lyle.” He told him in an even voice, not afraid of the glassy eyed freak one bit, even when he was trapped on his side staring up at him.

“I… uh… It’s for your own good. You were injured and i-it was the only way to get you to stop moving…” The sound of his aperture adjusting filled the air and he felt his eyes on him, or what could be considered his eyes as the glass shined back at him, knowingly.

“I’m sure I wasn’t moving that much when I was unconscious.” He frowned at Lyle, “This isn’t going to get me to fuck you.”

Lyle’s strange face flushed and Sam stared back at him, “I-I- That’s not what- I wasn’t d-doing this for—”

“—Then why am I tied up?! Let me the fuck go. I want to get back and rest in my own bed.” He squirmed, tugging on his binding and arching his back as he struggled to tug his arms out of the tight plastic strips before he gave up again with an exasperated groan. “I don’t have time for this.” He sighs, dropping his head back and rolling onto his back.

A moment of silence stretched out between them as he stared up at the ceiling of the room, before he turns his head again to look at the guy. “Come on, Lyle. What? Do you want something from me? Another stupid kiss or something?” He asked, and he was met with the avoidance of eye contact as Lyle shuffled nervously in place, an odd sound almost like the faint tapping of a keyboard accompanying it.

“W-Well… Now that you mention it…”

“You pervert! And to think I really believed you for a minute!” He laughed, shaking his head and squirming on his back, struggling against his bonds in attempt to free himself, kicking his legs out and tugging on his wrists until they ached. “Agh— Fuck! Fine. What? You want another kiss or what?”

Sam looked at Lyle and he wondered if the half man, half camera, amalgamation knew he’d get his ass handed to him by the eyeball creature in his bathroom when he let him through. Their gaze met and Lyle was looking at him in that shy, uncomfortable way that made him unsure whether to pity him or be apprehensive of him, the darkness of his face lit up by a rosy blush to his cheeks.

“I p-promise to let you go right after.” Lyle closed the distance between them, shoving his bulky body between the wall and the foot of the cot where he laid Sam.

“Right after? Right after what?” He asked him, unnerved by his captive’s sudden self assuredness.

Sam’s heart fluttered in his chest when Lyle came to him, that familiar mechanical whirring starting up again when he brought his face real close, not asking him to close his eyes this time at least. His hand grabbed his legs by his ankle bindings and lifted upwards, causing him to gasp in surprise, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just… Let me see…” He started, ignoring Sam for the most part as he manhandled him, his other hand tugging the waistband of his jeans down and up so his ass was exposed in just one moment.

“H-Hey! This wasn’t part of the deal!” Sam couldn’t do much in this predicament besides squirm, but even then, his entire lower half was being held suspended in air as Lyle bent him at the hips. And while he had never been afraid of him before, the way he contorted him any which way he pleased made him lightheaded.

“Ah-- I-I knew it.” The camera freak all but purred in a way that shocked Sam from the sound, as he was being inspected like some specimen to be examined without any regard for him at all.

Lyle held his legs upright, almost far enough to curl Sam into himself, and he was fat enough that it almost made it hard to breathe. His kidnapper didn’t seem to have a care in the world though as Sam felt a rough hand drift along one of his cheeks before the finger slipped across his perineum and over the lips of his cunt where it was squeezed between his thighs.

Sam shuddered at the cool, methodical feeling, squirming on his back and struggling to look at Lyle from the position he was in, “Put me down. Right now.” He tried to make himself sound intimidating, but the touch sent ripples through him that were reverberating back doubly as intense.

“But y-you said I could have a kiss.” Lyle sounded disappointed, but there was a heat between his legs that he knew he couldn’t contribute to his own body. Especially not when he felt the first strange, sloppy stroke of the other’s tongue as it dipped between his folds and he sighed.

“Lyle—”He should’ve kept fighting this, but he couldn’t help it. It just felt too good. Who would’ve thought, the weird little man he worked with years ago would be the first person to eat him out?

Sam flexed his thighs, slick squeezing out from his hole and drooling down his pussy, right into Lyle’s ready mouth as he lapped it up like a thirsty animal. Briefly, he wished for the bindings to go just so Lyle could take more of him into his wide maw as it opened around the small exposure of his cunt. His lips smearing his spit across his thighs and ass as he struggled to push the hot, wet flesh of his tongue between his thick thighs and into his folds.

“Ngh— Fuck. What the fuck, Lyle…” Sam subtly rocked his hips against that gaping mouth, not being able to help himself as he silently begged for him to go deeper. He needed him deeper. “More.” He flushed, embarrassing himself with the desperateness of it all, but for one blissful moment he could ignore the wantonness of his own voice.

Lyle obeyed. He adjusts his face, the cool glass of his eyes brushing Sam’s inner thighs when his tongue writhed its way between Sam’s tight folds and the broad heat of it licked his hole.

Sam gasped, canting his head back and curling his toes when a full body shudder coursed through him, “Come on… Come on then.” He grit his teeth, biting down on his lower lip and rocking back against his fat tongue.

This kiss definitely topped the first one.

Lyle followed directions well as he lapped at Sam’s dripping folds, making such a mess of him that it was impossible to tell what part of it was Sam and what part was drool on Lyle’s part. Sam’s eyes shut and he rolled his hips, chasing after that spark that came from Lyle’s tongue brushing against his hole before it dipped inside again and his lips closed around his vulva.

He was sucking on him then in the midst of all the messy licking, tasting really, and Sam wanted that delicious monstrosity that was his neighbors mouth to draw an orgasm out of him. Lyle slurped at Sam’s fat mound, all lips and tongue, and wonderful heat that made him rock desperately on his face, taking more and more of the length of his tongue inside of him. It was inhuman, he knew that much, but he didn’t care. He just needed him, “Deeper.”

Despite the squeeze, Lyle shoved his tongue as far as it would go, slithering that malleable muscle up Sam’s cunt and lapping  at his insides . The entirety of it found its way inside of him, stuffing him to the point where it almost felt tight, like when he tried sitting on three of his fingers, but not that much. That wet mass licked, chasing after the places that made Sam twitch until he came undone with a jolt and a shudder, his mouth open in a silent cry as the entirety of his body tensed then released incrementally.

Lyle unraveled his tongue from inside of him only a few moments after that, drool threading from his mouth to Sam’s cunt before he wiped his mouth with his cloak sleeve. Looking quite pleased with himself as he watched Sam’s slick leak from between his thighs, even as he held him nearly at a 120 degree angle, until he finally lowered him back down again. Sam could have sworn he heard a few clicks of a camera shutter, but he was too out of it to realize or even care to complain.

The night before the apocalypse started was like any other.

Sam spent the day roaming from room to room as always. He always tried to wake up at a decent time, despite being unemployed, and he made sure to shower and brush his teeth at least once a day, especially when he didn’t feel like it. Even though it only made him feel minutely better in a way, as if he was tricking his mind into thinking he had something more to do. He spent that day in the living room with the TV on, he ate a huge serving of pizza bites for lunch, then played video games until it was time to go to bed.

He stepped inside of his bedroom and walked over to the window where he looked outside at the neighborhood he had lived most of his adult life. The street lights, the park opposite the apartment building, and the people milling about on the sidewalk, heading home for the day or going out for the night. Whichever it was, he closed the blinds on their journey, something he did every night to keep the sun out when morning came.

Ending his day, Sam climbed beneath his sheets and settled in for the night. Unaware of the looming cosmic anomaly approaching the minuscule blue rock that circled an equally insignificant yellow star. Or the growing crack in the wall of his bedroom where a growing darkness loomed, a closed eye floating in the shadows until it would open again.

Sam closed his own eyes, turning his face into his pillow with a sigh, waiting for sleep to take him. Which it did. Or he thought it did when he felt himself floating in that dreamlike state, warm and comfortable, like a great big hand cradling him in a sea of dark. There was a heat to him now that made him feel like squirming, his breath coming to him faster as he pressed his thighs together beneath the sheets.

Something was coming.

His toes curled, his legs drawing upwards, and his hand slipping between his thighs. He slipped his hand into his sweatpants and his fingers went beneath the band of his boxers. A soft gasp coming from him when he touched the engorged head of his clit, his cunt twitched and he felt hot slick drool from his hole. It fluttered around nothing and he moaned at the inadequacy of the feeling, needing… something.

Sam rubbed at his clit, pinching it between two fingers and massaging slowly, before he shoved the fingers of his other hand into his sleep pants and then his boxers. His chest rising and falling at a quickened pace as he dipped his opposite hand into the honeypot that was his dripping hole. He arched and his mouth opened in a wanton sigh, his eyelids fluttering when he swirled one of his fingers around and then dipped inside again, catching his own slick on his finger tip and rubbing the heat across his clit.

While he touched himself often, only slightly more than he used to when he was employed, this time it felt better than usual. Maybe because it was a dream, or, because it felt like a dream. He knew that he hadn’t turned over and dug into his end table for one of his toys, so it had to be one. He had never gotten off to just someone’s hand before, not even his own, but this time it was different.

Sam’s mouth opened and he groaned, tilting his head back and turning his face into the pillow, slipping a second finger inside of his waiting hole. He was desperate for any inch of friction he could gain from fucking himself on his fingers, refocusing his attention on rubbing his clit with the other hand. He curled in on himself just enough so that those two fingers opened him in a way that made him ache from the stretch.

Desperately, he rocked against his fingers, attempting to add a third to the mix but it only made his eyes water when he tried. A searing pain warning him not to get too eager, and he took heed. He didn’t want to wake up from this dream yet, he just needed to get off, so he relented the third finger and instead focused on using the other two the best he could.

He huffed when he stuffed those two fingers inside and moaned as he pushed inside of himself, chasing that heat he felt deep in his gut and the spark that jolted up his spine. His eyes rolled back and he shoved, reaching up as far as he could and wriggling his fingers there, while his other hand pinched his throbbing clit. His back arched, biting down on his lower lip, chasing that pleasure and attempting to fill that delicious ache he felt by stretching his fingers as far up his pussy as they would go.

His teeth clenched and he whimpered, planting his foot on the bed and pushing his fingers upwards, his heart thudded in his ears and he cried out when his fingertips brushed his cervix. Heat flooded his body and pure electricity sparked through every one of his limbs, forcing an intense, entire body shudder through him as he came.

The intense orgasm left him trembling, and he tracked the residual shudders in each arm and leg to make sure he was still in one piece. In a few moments, his breathing regulated and his heartbeat slowed to a constant steady thump in his chest, before sleep overtook him once again.