#stag-man

Will slowly turns around, half-unwrapped granola bar in hand, and sees It.  It’s standing there, looking a little confused, next to the fridge.  How did I not see that before?  He thinks, mind racing.

It cocks Its head to one side, blazing eyes piercing Will to the core.  He follows Its contours in the harsh light: emaciated, all black—except for those eyes. It cocks Its head to the other side, the shadows of Its antlers dancing across the wall.  It doesn’t move.  Neither does Will.

He isn’t afraid, per se, but he’s cautious.  He isn’t sure what It’s capable of.  He isn’t even sure he’s awake.  He sets the mug down, finishes unwrapping the granola bar, takes a bite.  No, he’s definitely awake.  But what the hell is It doing here?

“Are you… lost?”  He asks at length.

It doesn’t blink.  Its face is unreadable, but Its body-language seems confused.  Will takes a step forward, sees that It—whatever It is—doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even register his movements.  He takes another step forward, and another, until he’s face-to-face with It.

“Can I… help you?”  He asks.

It tilts Its head again, then twitches the fingers of Its right hand.  They’re long, spindly, clawed, and matte black like the rest of Its body.  It rests Its hand on Will’s shoulder, and he shudders.  Icy cold shoots through him from where Its palm touches him, but he’s too afraid to move.  He feels like cornered prey.

“Clearly you don’t have the gift of speech,” Will muses, “or understanding what I’m saying.  Most people don’t anyway.”

It removes Its hand from his shoulder, and suddenly he feels hollow without the touch.  It has a familiar face, but he can’t quite place where he’s seen those features before.  They’re very distinct.

“Um.  Well, I’m gonna g-go back to bed now,” he says, before taking another bite of the granola bar, “but um… y-you can follow me… if you want to.”

As he turns to leave the kitchen, he hears It shuffle.  He turns around to see It following close behind him; It has to duck to fit under the archway from the kitchen to the living room, and again to follow him into his bedroom.

Will sits down, cross-legged, on the bed and pulls a comforter around him.  The visitor, whatever It is—Will still hasn’t given It a name—stands there, watching him.  Its cold, white, glowing eyes never leave him.  He feels like he’s under a microscope.

“Um.”  He finishes the granola bar.  “This is probably weird for you, but um… I’m not afraid of you.  That’s probably a concept that has never entered your mind… if you have one.”

Will polishes off the milk, gulping greedily, and Its eyes snap to his adam’s apple, letting out a low grumble.  Will looks up, shocked, and sees Its eyes blazing with… want?

“What the fuck do you want?”  Will asks, scrambling away.  It takes a step forward.  Despite Its emaciated build, It’s quite intimidating.  It sits beside him on the bed, joints and springs creaking in harmony.  Will reaches out a hand to touch It on the arm.

It flinches, then leans into his touch, letting out a low, satisfied sound.  It seems to relax a little, although Will can’t really tell what relaxation looks like to this being… or whatever the fuck It is.  He removes his hand, then touches Its arm again.  Another satisfied growl.

“Are you… touch-starved?”  He asks in disbelief.

Those cold eyes bore into Will’s soul, and It turns to fully face him.  He follows the harsh angles of Its antlers down to Its face, then sees a shift in Its expression.  Which seems impossible, given the fact that Its face is stiff and unreadable.  But something about Its energy, Its body-language, seems to change.  The very air in the room is different.

Will reaches out a trembling hand and caresses Its cheek.  It nuzzles his palm, then emits a high-pitched whine, which quickly turns into a desperate growl.  He’s a little afraid to keep his hand there, but he’s more afraid of taking it away.  So he leaves his palm against Its cheek.  Its hand comes up and presses his fingers more closely against Its skin, grumbling happily.

For some inexplicable reason, or perhaps all too explicable, Will is… well, he’s hard.  He isn’t sure if it’s from the cold, or if it’s involuntary, but he refuses to believe that It has anything to do with his sudden erection.  Seeming to sense his train of thought, It turns to look at him again.  Hunger blazes in Its eyes, and Will suddenly feels cold.  “Um… uh…”  He feels his boxers become too tight.  It feels it, too—senses it.

A spindly, clawed hand reaches out and brushes against Will’s chest, raising goosebumps across his skin.  He shudders, but the feeling isn’t unpleasant.  It’s cold and unforgiving, but it’s somehow pleasurable.  Prominent knuckles brush lightly against his sternum, down to his solar plexus, and eventually to his belly.  He concaves his abdominals involuntarily, and the flat of Its hand presses against his skin, making his breath hitch.

Claws trail against skin, leaving raised lines over the soft skin of Will’s belly, and warmth immediately finds its way to that coil in his core, making his boxers jump a little.

“Wh…what the f-fuck…” He’s trembling, heart racing as Its fingers trace his skin, until a claw is hooked in the elastic band of his underwear, pulling it away from his hip and then letting it snap back.

A very soft and brief moan escapes him, and that’s all It needs to make Its next move.  It crawls across the bed towards him, breathing harshly but evenly.  Will isn’t scared anymore—at least, not scared enough to override his sudden sense of arousal.  The strain against his boxers is too much to bear, so he slips them off, leaving them tangled up in the sheets.  Its glowing eyes snap to his cock, leaking in want and anticipation and excitement at the unknown.

It crawls over him, clawed, bony hands above his shoulders, breathing raggedly.  Will looks up into Its eyes, and sees a tenderness mixed with desire and burning.  He wants this, too, but he can’t be sure why.  Its lips part a little, jaw slack, and he can see perfect, sharp, white teeth—no, fangs—inside Its mouth.  His breath hitches involuntarily, cock twitching.

It leans in and grazes Its lips against his neck, making him whimper.  This only encourages It further, and It sinks Its fangs into his neck.  He arches up into the bite, moaning shamelessly now, feeling the pleasureful ache between his thighs.  He ruts up against nothing, wanting—needing sensation.  It seems to understand, licks the blood from his neck, and backs up over his trembling form.

It sits up on Its knees, hands on Its thighs, as if It’s waiting for something.  Will quickly understands, turns around, and plants himself on all fours.  He gets an approving, rumbling growl.  He closes his eyes, completely unprepared for what comes next.

First, he feels ribs against his back, then something pressing against his buttocks—and then—

“Oh fuck…” he whimpers breathlessly, feeling It find Its way around his body.  Black, wiry arms slither around his middle, petting him, eliciting groans and pleas from him.  Sweet nothings.  He’s just getting settled into the sensation of It petting him when he feels it—It—breech the ring of muscles.

“OH JESUS FUCK—” The breath is almost knocked out of him as It eases Its way into his ass.  It’s big, unprecedentedly so, thick, and a perfect fucking fit.  Will feels like a tight glove slipping onto a well-formed hand, but infinitely better.  Warmth washes over him as It pushes in all the way, grounding Itself and letting him adjust to Its size.

Will’s panting now, and he grumbles out a low moan as It pulls out again, making him feel hollow and empty, more so than he’s ever felt in his life.  And just as he’s about to turn his head to see what’s going on, It pushes back in, making him grunt and fall forward on his elbows.

Strong hands lift him back up onto his palms, petting his hair and skating across his back before they cling to his hips again.  An almost cooing rumble comes from Its depths before It pulls back out and slams in again.

Will has never even dreamed of anything feeling this good.  He’s never had anything like this, and he somehow wishes he won’t ever again.  That this will all be a sweet memory, like a dream tucked away somewhere in his memory palace forever, never to be touched again.

But oh, it is very real, as he feels Its clawed fingers crawl their way up to his chest, fumbling for his nipples, pinching and rolling them expertly.

“Haaaaah… Jesus, what the h-hell—”  It’s getting difficult for Will to emit anything verbal—it’s all guttural moans and whines and whimpers, wordless pleas of “more more more” and not much else.

A matte-black hand, emaciated and infinitely delicate, wraps around Will’s cock, brushing a thumb over his tip, making him rock forward in Its grasp.  “Oh, fuck, just like—like that, holy fuck…”

It rolls Its hips once or twice inside him, kissing his prostate so sweetly, then pulls out so torturously that Will’s afraid he’s gonna cum all over Its hand right then and there.  But somehow he doesn’t.  Instead, he shudders and twitches violently as the pad of Its thumb brushes tantalizing circles over his slit, spreading precum so evenly and sweetly it makes him dizzy.

It can’t get any better than this, Will thinks ironically to himself, this isn’t even possible.  There’s no way I can be feeling this goo-

The delicate black fingers begin to slowly, ever so fucking slowly pump along his length, making him tense up and shudder with Its touch.

“Ohdearlordupinheaven,” Will mutters, a thin line of saliva dangling from his mouth, “ohsweetmotherofgodthiscantbehappening…”

Another roll or two of Its hips, another couple of perfect touches to that bundle of nerves, and he’s gone.  Will fucking screams, coming undone so easily, being shattered and torn asunder and split open, spilling over Its hand, his belly, the sheets, the bed—he feels as if his ribcage has been spread, and It’s buried elbow-deep in his chest, cradling his heart in Its palms.

He’s a breathless, quivering mess, cum all over the sheets and his belly and the backs of his forearms, but the best is still waiting for him.  A long, low, moaning growl comes from Its very core, and It pushes Its hips forward into him, making his limp cock twitch again as It spills inside him, grabbing at his hair and pulling, eliciting a few more dribbles of cum from him, overstimulating him past the breaking-point.

All Will wants is more more more, but he can’t handle more.  He knows that.  It knows that, and It tenderly pets his shoulders as It pulls out, sweeping clawed fingers over his sides and guiding him back to his knees.  Its arms slip around his middle, cradling him in Its embrace.  It nuzzles his cheek from behind, growling low and contentedly.

Will leans his head back, resting it on the crook between Its shoulder and neck, and sighs.  He hasn’t felt that good ever, for as long as he can remember, and he’s grateful for Its arrival and treatment of him.

“Thank you,” he breathes, feeling Its breath against his hair, “thank you…”

It nuzzles him again, then plants an innocent and infinitely gentle kiss on his temple, still petting his sides and cooing to him in whines and grunts.  Another kiss is placed on his cheekbone, and another on his jaw, again on his neck.  To his shoulder, and then It stops.

He reaches back a trembling hand and caresses the back of Its head, gently grabbing the base of an antler.  It croons to him, pressing Its nose against his carotid artery, humming to Itself.  Will feels incredibly lucky, sated, and full of believing disbelief.  He feels purified, holy, and utterly destroyed.