#it chapter two

The moment your car rolls to a stop outside the crumbling Neibolt house, the air changes. Thickens. Smells like cotton candy and sewage and something ancient that wants you. The front door is already hanging open, and before you can even grab your overnight bag from the backseat, he’s there.

Not walking. Materializing.

One second the porch is empty, the next, Pennywise is leaning against the frame in his usual clown suit, bells chiming softly though there’s no wind. His eyes, wild, glowing yellow, are trained on you like you’re the only real thing left in the universe. His bottom lip is pushed out in the most pathetic pout you’ve ever seen on his face.

“You left me,” he says, voice small and cracked, almost childlike. Then it drops two octaves, becoming rough and dangerous. “For a whole week, little one.”

You barely get “I missed you too” out before he’s on you.

Long arms wrap around your waist, lifting you clear off the ground like you weigh nothing. Your bag thuds to the gravel. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales, deep, shuddering, making greedy purring growls against your skin. His whole body trembling. The bells on his suit jingle with every tiny movement as he nuzzles closer, lips brushing your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

“Never again,” he mumbles into your hair, voice muffled and raw. “Never leaving me again. Smelled wrong without you. Everything tasted like ash.”

You laugh softly, fingers threading through the orange fluff at the nape of his neck.

“I had to see my family, Penny. It was just a week.”

He makes a wounded sound and squeezes tighter, like he’s trying to fuse you to him.

“A week is forever when you’re mine.”

Inside, he doesn’t put you down. Carries you straight through the house, up the stairs that creak like they’re alive, into the bedroom that somehow always smells like him. Sweet rot and and something darkly intoxicating. The bed is a nest of mismatched blankets and pillows he stole from who-knows-where just because they smelled faintly of you.

He lays you down like you’re made of glass, but his eyes are starving.

For a long moment he just stares, kneeling between your legs, gloved hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. His pupils are blown wide, yellow swallowed by black.

“I dreamed about you every night,” he whispers. “Dreamed about your taste. Your little sounds. The way you squeeze around me when you cum.” His voice cracks again.

“Thought I’d go mad.”

You reach for him, but he catches your wrists gently, pressing them above your head with one huge hand. The other traces your body like he’s memorizing it, collarbone, breasts, ribs, belly, the curve of your hip. He leans down and presses his lips to every inch he can reach, leaving trails of warm saliva along the way.

“My perfect girl,” he breathes against your stomach. “My soft, warm, breakable girl. Missed how you smell right here—” His nose drags along the crease of your thigh, inhaling deep. “—and here—” A slow, deliberate lick over the fabric of your panties makes you gasp. “—and here.”

He peels your clothes off like he’s unwrapping something sacred. Every new inch of skin gets kissed, licked, nipped. He spends what feels like hours on your breasts alone, sucking bruises into the soft skin, teasing your nipples with his tongue until you’re writhing, begging.

When he finally spreads your legs wide and settles between them, his hands are shaking.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice thick. “Soaked already. All for me. Because you missed your Pennywise just as bad, didn’t you?”

You nod frantically, and he rewards you by dragging his tongue up the folds of your cunt in one slow stripe. The sound he makes, half growl, half sob, vibrates straight through your clit.

He then devours you like only a demonic creature could. No teasing, no games tonight, just pure, desperate worship. Long, flat licks, lips sucking gently, then hard, then gentle again. When he pushes two thick fingers inside you and curls them, you nearly sob his name. He moans in reaturn.

“That’s it,” he pants against your folds, drool shining on his chin. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me. Show me you’re never leaving again.”

You shatter with a cry, thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t stop, his tongue laps you through it, gentler now, cleaning every drop like it’s holy.

When he finally crawls back up your body, his suit is half-unbuttoned, cock straining against the silk. His eyes are wet.

“Need to be inside you,” he whispers, almost pleading. “Need to feel you around me. Need to fill you up so full you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

You pull him down into a kiss, taste yourself on his tongue, taste the salt of tears he’ll never admit to, and wrap your legs around his waist.

He slides in with one slow, perfect thrust that has you both gasping.

He fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin. Deep, grinding strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside you, hips rolling in that inhuman way only he can manage. His mouth never leaves yours—kissing, biting, licking, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he stops touching you for even a second.

“Mine,” he growls against your throat, teeth scraping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp, nails raking down his back. “Always yours, Penny, please—”

He snarls, pace turning brutal. One hand slips between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit, the other tangled in your hair, holding you exactly where he wants you.

“Gonna breed you,” he rasps, voice breaking. “Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel me for days. Never letting you leave this bed again. Never letting you forget—”

You cum again, harder this time, clenching around him so tight he follows with a feral cry, pumping into you in hot, endless bursts. He doesn’t pull out. Just collapses on top of you, face buried in your neck, arms locked around you like iron bands.

Minutes (or hours) later, he’s still inside you, softening but unwilling to leave. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back.

“Don’t go again,” he mumbles, voice small and raw. “Please, little one. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Just… stay.”

You kiss his temple, smiling against orange curls. “I’m not going anywhere, Penny.”

He makes a soft, happy sound, half purr, half whimper, and nuzzles closer.

Outside, the moon rises over Derry. Inside, the ancient thing wearing a clown’s face clings to his human like she’s the only real thing in every world he’s ever haunted.