We Can’t Do That Here (Yondu x Reader)

A/N: This story came about because I dropped sour cream on my sweater during lunch one day.  A discussion ensued with @rooker-character-fics, and I decided to write this.  Although I changed it from sour cream to oil in the fic.  XD  

Tagged List:  @celticheart72 @animeaniseed @misfitgirlwrites  (As always, if you wanted to be added or removed to/from my tagged list, just let me know!  I promise you won’t hurt my feelings if you want to be removed.  😊)

Warnings:  Just some smut.  

You can also find this on AO3, along with the rest of my fics.  

__

"Pass me the wrench, will ya?" You picked it up and handed it to Yondu. "Here ya go." "Thanks, Y/N." "What do you think is wrong with it?" "Dunno fer sure. Might be tha motor." "Can you fix it?" "'Course I can." He rolled out from under the M-ship to give you a wink, then rolled back to continue what he was doing.

That wink was enough to send your senses into a whirlwind. You'd joined Yondu's crew three months earlier, and spent most of that time in "on-the-job training" with the other Ravagers. It was only in the last couple of weeks that Yondu had taken more of an interest in your training. You'd admired him from afar, but spending so much time with him lately had definitely made your feelings stronger. And though there had been a couple of times when you'd thought there was a mutual sexual tension, Yondu never made a move, and you were afraid you'd just imagined it. "Lookit this, Y/N. See how that piece right there looks burned?" You leaned closer to him so you could see where he was pointing. "Yeah." "That's our problem. We're gonna hafta replace it. Here, slide on under here. I'll let ya handle it." "Oh, okay. Sure." You hoped your face wasn't red as you laid down and slid next to him under the M-ship. Your first thought was that it was awfully hot under the M-ship, but realized that probably had more to do with the proximity of the Centaurian next to you, and less to do with the temperature of the room itself. "Here ya go. Let's see what'cha can do." You took the wrench from him and studied the mess of parts above your head. "Wha’dya gotta do first?" You thought for a moment, then replied, "I need to remove the screws on this panel..." "Right! Go ‘head an' take ‘em out." You placed the wrench aside and picked up a screwdriver. Removing the eight small screws, you handed them to Yondu, then removed the panel. "What's next?" "I need to disconnect the hose so I can get the motor out." "Yep." Feeling slightly more confident, you pulled the hose loose, only to be rewarded by a stream of oil. Sputtering, you slid out from under the M-ship, Yondu right behind you. "Aw, hell. Them morons told me they'd already drained the oil." He pulled a small towel from his pocket and handed it to you. You started to wipe the oil off your face as Yondu stood up and ordered, "Go ‘head an' get that shirt off so's we can get ya cleaned up. Gotta get that oil outta yer leathers perty fast or it'll never come out." You felt your face flame and your eyes grow wide. He turned to grab a bucket to catch the oil that was still pouring out, then turned back to see you still standing there. "C'mon, get that off now." You weren't sure if he'd forgotten you were a woman and not just another member of the crew, or if he just didn't care. Of course, considering you were currently covered in oil from the ship, you probably looked like any other member of the crew. "I ain't gonna tell ya again. If that oil sets in them leathers, you'll hafta get more, an' that's gonna come outta yer wages." "Oh… okay. Could you at least… turn around?" "What? Why?" He gave you a confused look, then suddenly said, "Oh… yeah. Sorry." He turned away from you, and you pulled off your shirt, feeling utterly exposed standing there in your bra. "Okay..." He turned around and took the shirt from you as you crossed your arms over your chest. He laid it out on an empty table, then sprinkled it with talcum powder. "That'll pull tha oil out, an' then ya can clean it." You nodded. Standing in front of him, half-naked, as the memory of him ordering you to take off your shirt replayed on loop in your head, it was all you could do not to faint on the spot. He grabbed a clean washcloth from a box beside the table and gestured to your chest. "Need ta get that oil off ya." You glanced down and realized that the oil had indeed gotten inside your shirt, and was now dripping down your chest. You were afraid your bra was beyond saving. "Oh, right." You held out a hand for the washcloth, but Yondu said, "Lemme help ya." You met his eyes at those words, and you were pretty sure he'd remembered you were a woman. You were also pretty sure you weren't the only one feeling the sexual tension now. He guided you to stand next to the sink as he ran water over the washcloth. "Might be kinda cold. Takes a while fer it ta warm up, ya know." "It's okay." It was probably for the best anyway – the cold water might cool you off and bring you back to your senses. You held your breath as he began to gently remove the oil from your body, starting with the mostly-innocent area of your shoulders. As he moved his hand lower, down your arms, you let out a shaky breath. He met your eyes and smirked. "Ya okay?" "Yep." You tried for an unconcerned attitude, but you knew he saw right through it. He rinsed the washcloth, then started to slowly wipe the oil from your chest. "Reckon yer bra's ruined." "Yeah, I think you're right. And I loved this one, too!" You looked down at your poor bra in consternation. He ran a finger under the strap, as he said, "Ya probably need ta take it off." Your eyes lifted to meet his as a shiver ran through your body. "What?" "We won't ever get all tha oil off if half of ya's covered with yer bra." "Oh… is that the only reason?" "Nah." He flashed you a crooked grin, and you couldn't help returning it. "I don't think I should be the only one half-naked, though." "That right?" "Mmhmm." "A'right then." He handed you the washcloth and removed his duster and shirt. "That better?" "Much better." "Yer turn." His grin grew wider as you passed the washcloth back to him. "A deal's a deal." "Okay." You felt a little self-conscious, but the lust in his eyes was obvious as you slowly removed your bra and dropped it to the ground. "Do you normally help crew members get cleaned up?" "Nope. I mighta had an ulterior motive fer wantin' ta help ya." "Is that right?" "Yep." He stepped closer to you and ran one of his hands up your arm as the other snaked around your waist. "Yer skin's so smooth." Blushing, you replied, "Thanks..." "I wanna see if tha rest a ya's this smooth." "I'm… I'm pretty sure it is." "Need ta see fer myself." He winked at you, as he began to unbutton your pants. You put your hand on his to stop him, and he looked at you, concern in his eyes. "What's wrong?" "We can't do this in here!" "Why not?" "Anyone could walk in!" "Ain't nobody comin' in here. If they come in here, it means they gotta work, an' ain't none of ‘em gonna do any work unless they's ordered to, the lazy excuses fer Ravagers." "Are you sure?" "Positive. C'mere." He pulled you back to him, and returned his hands to the button of your pants, giving you a questioning look. You bit your lip and nodded, causing him to softly growl, as he unbuttoned your pants and slid his hand inside. "Oh, damn," you whispered. "Ya like that, huh?" "Yes..." You were already breathless, and he chuckled. "'S gonna get better." He kissed you, slowly at first, then growing more insistent. As he deepened the kiss, you found the buckle of his belt and started to remove it. He removed his hands from your skin to help you unbutton his pants, then broke the kiss to remove his boots and pants. "Hang on a second..." He pulled a clean mat off a shelf and tossed it on the floor, as you removed your own boots. You couldn't help the nervous laugh that escaped you. "Are we really going to do this… here?" "Yep." He sat down on the mat, then pulled you down next to him. "An' ya don't need these," he added, pulling your pants off. He kissed you again, as he lowered you down to lie back on the mat, then murmured, "Or these." Pulling off your panties, he tossed him over his shoulder and lowered himself on top of you. As he kissed your neck, you grabbed the waistband of his underwear, and whispered, "You don't need yours, either." He nipped your neck gently, and you whimpered, as he pulled his underwear off. __ Several minutes later – or it could have been several days, you weren't sure – Yondu finally spoke. "We need ta get yer shirt cleaned soon." "Mmhmm." He leaned up on his elbow and grinned at you. "How're ya feelin'?" "Amazing." He chuckled, and replied, "Glad ta hear it." "What about you?" "Never been better." "Good." You smiled at him, and he leaned down to kiss you. As he broke the kiss, you said, "I guess we should try to finish fixing the M-ship." "Nah, I'm gonna get some a tha crew ta do it. We got more important things ta do." "Oh? Like what?" "I'm gonna take ya ta my quarters, an' we're gonna have a lil' more fun." He flashed you his crooked grin, and you shivered in anticipation. "What about my shirt?" "Ya ain't gonna need it." "I'll need something to get to your quarters. We can't just walk there without wearing any clothes." "Well, we could." He winked, and you laughed. "Well, you can if you want, but I'd rather not." "Yeah, I'd rather ya didn't, too. Don't want nobody but me seein' ya like this." "You don't have to worry about that." "Good." He helped you stand, then said, "I'm gonna get somebody ta clean yer shirt, too. Ya can wear mine ‘til we get ta my quarters." "What are you going to wear?" "Nothin'." You laughed. "You're going to just walk completely naked all the way to your quarters?" "Well, maybe I'll wear my pants." "Probably a good idea. Your crew might think their Captain has lost it if they see you walking around without any clothes." "Or they'll just think a beautiful woman has gone ta my head." You flushed at his words. "Well, it's still probably best if you at least wear your pants in the corridors." "Yer probably right." He picked up his pants, and pulled them on, as you started collecting your scattered clothes.

You put on your pants as Yondu picked up his shirt and draped it around you. You slid your arms into the sleeves, and he helped you button it up. You both pulled on your boots, then Yondu picked up his communicator, pressed a button, and said, "Kraglin! Need ya to finish fixin' that M-ship in the maintenance bay. Get somebody ta help ya." "Aye, Cap'n." "Oh, an' I need ya to clean Y/N's shirt. ‘S'got oil all over it." "Oh… okay, Cap'n. No problem." "An' make sure nobody bothers me in my quarters tonight. Yer in charge." Kraglin's voice sounded a bit stronger as he replied, "I'll handle it, Cap'n." Yondu disconnected the call, wrapped his arms around your waist, and murmured in your ear, "Let's get outta here before Kraglin an' tha others get here. I don't know how much longer I can wait ta get ya undressed again." You moaned softly as he kissed your neck, then grabbed his hand and started pulling him along as you walked backward in the direction of the door. "I can't wait much longer, either." He grinned at you, and said, "I hope ya ain't got no plans tonight." "Oh, I do, but they all involve you." Flashing you a wicked grin, he picked you up, and said, "Then what're we waitin' fer?"   

Private Tutor. Chapter Twenty-Seven; I Haven’t.

I know this has been a long time coming, but I have some New Years resolutions - one of them is to get this one more up to date with less time between updates. Writing these days is incredibly hard because my job from September suddenly became quite intense and I’m finding it increasingly more difficult to enjoy Show!OL to the point where I sort of zoned out...though I still love fic of all kinds. 

Happy New Year all!! <3 

Master List is HERE if you need to remind yourselves :)

The phone call came in the middle of an intense study session and Claire barely heard it ring.

“It’s for you.” Murtagh called, sliding her mobile across the bar as she lifted her head from the particularly large textbook.

“Hello?” She answered before mouthing ‘thank you’ to Murtagh and slipping into the ladies bathroom. “This is Claire speaking.”

As the door closed behind her, Jamie came out from the kitchen, wafting the hot chips with his free hand. They could hear a slight mumbling through the thick wood but no actual words which made him edgy and nervous. Putting a chip into his mouth, he placed the bowl on the bar and kept his eyes glued on the bathroom.

“It willna make her come out any quicker, my lad.”

“Do ye ken who it is?”

“Nah, I couldna tell, though he was Scottish.”

“It’s Ned,” he sighed, “I dinna think she kens anyone else other than Joe and he’s a Yank.” At the mention of the lawyer, his heart rate increased exponentially. With the chips going cold in front of him, he tapped his foot nervously against the bar stool. He could see her wandering up and down through the glass panel but there was nothing he could do to alter the course he just had to hope that Randall had done the honourable thing.

Stepping outside, shedding the scent of stale urine, Claire bit the inside of her lip to try and stop herself from crying.

“I’m free.” She whispered, the choked sound echoing around the empty pub as Murtagh quirked a brow.

“Christ. Sassenach. He signed them?”

“Y-yes. By noon tomorrow I’ll officially be divorced.”

A smile overtook the worry on Jamie’s face as he stood and strode towards Claire. Placing his hand over the arch of her belly he rested his forehead gently against hers. “In three months, mo nighean donn, ye’ll be a mother and I’ll be a da - and we’ll be free to marry should ye want to and I canna wait.”

Tears ran down her face, her cheeks pinked from holding her breath as Ned had conveyed the good news to her and her heart was beating clearly in her chest as the weight of her sham marriage lifted from her shoulders.

After their return from Lallybroch and through the beginning of Claire’s course both her and Jamie had patiently waited for any news from the lawyers about the proceedings but Ned had been suspiciously quiet for a whole two months. Though cold, September and October had been milder than usual but they had both begun to numb themselves - even the excitement of the coming halloween hadn’t brought Claire any relief. But, now, just in time for the run up to Christmas, Ned given them some unexpected (added) joy.

“I don’t think I can read anymore about the central nervous system tonight.” She hiccuped, her hands shaking as she placed the phone back into her pocket.

“Nor should ye have to,” Murtagh interjected, “have some champagne on me, aye?” He said, reaching into the small fridge to collect a bottle. “Go upstairs and celebrate the two of ye.” With a wink and a nod he passed the cold Bollinger over to Jamie and watched as the two disappeared through the door to Jamie’s apartment.

They were calm and quiet for all of a moment but the second the air settled around them, Claire let out a squeal of delight, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m free, Jamie. A divorcee.”

Standing with his hands in his pockets, Jamie twisted the material against his fingers, the sweat dripping down his spine as his hands gripped the small velvet box that he had concealed earlier. “How would you feel…” he started, the pulse racing in his neck as he tried to pluck up the courage to ask the important question, “if I were to ask ye, Claire *Beauchamp*...”

She saw the nervous twitch, the tilt of his head which highlighted the wee droplets of moisture forming on his forehead and she recalled the time, not so long ago, when she’d removed her first wedding ring and how it had felt to finally be free of the shackles of it.

“You remembered my maiden name.”

He’d seen it on the forms she’d been filling in and he’d taken an internal snapshot for reference later.

“Aye. I want to ken everything about ye, Claire.”

“Including whether or not I’ll say yes...to your question?” She said with a knowing glint in her eye.

“Aye.” He whispered, the nerves suddenly dissipating.

Reaching forwards, she pulled his hand from his pocket and smiled shyly at what she saw clasped between his fingers. Placing her mouth carefully over his, Claire kissed him as she rested her hand over his. “I think you already know how I’ll answer. I don’t think you’d have been carrying this-” squeezing her fingers around the back of his hand she let her nose bump against his as she paused, “waiting for Ned to call with news if you had even considered the possibility of me saying no.”

“Say it, then.” He returned, his eyes closed now as he pushed his flat stomach against her distended one. “If ye know what ye want.”

“Right now, would you judge me if I said I just wanted you to take me to bed?”

In the last month her hormones had gone wild, lust ravaging her at a moments notice and having Jamie touch her - even in the most discreet way, caused her temperature to rise in the most delightful way.

“Say yes and I willna judge ye ever again.”

“I’d say screw you, Jamie, but really I mean it the other way around.” She sighed, giving him her most coquettish look.

“Such a filthy mouth, Miss Beauchamp, I like it.”

Removing her top with a swift flick of her wrists, she mouthed “good” as she stepped backwards towards the bed.

Perched on the edge with the duvet scrunched around her bottom, she looked glorious with her maternity bra sitting snuggly between her belly as it covered her breasts. He wanted her naked, he loved seeing the changes in her body as she grew bigger with their child and he especially loved seeing the flush blossom across her skin in the few moments when desire began to take hold of her. She didn’t even need to tell him, she just got this twinkle in her eye and then her flesh just seemed to get this iridescent glow that called to him on a primal level.

“If you want them off,” she said as she leaned backwards on the bed, “you just have to come over here.”

Needing no more coaxing, Jamie went, wrapping his arm around her waist he pulled her close and buried his nose beneath her chin. She smelt of talcum powder, a type of motherly scent that clung to her skin. Dragging himself lower he placed his mouth over her covered nipple before sucking softly.

She moaned making him suck harder. Even half clothed he could tell that she was desperate, the way she bucked her hips and clung to him, her hands now lost in the mass of curls that lay at the nape of his neck.

“Have ye thought about much else for the last few weeks?” He moaned as he fell onto his back, pulling her over his hips.

“I haven’t. No.”

“It’s just us now, Claire. You and I. There’s nothing to stop us.”

Undoing the clasp of her bra and flinging it onto the floor, she took both of his hands in hers and lay one of her the arch of her belly and one over her bare breast. “I’ve never been happier.” She whispered, the rasp of her voice causing the breath to leave his lungs in an instant. “There’s nothing I want more. So yes, Jamie,” she continued, writhing her hips suggestively, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

A Monster for a Mate -  Chapter 3

PENNYWISE X OC

Previous Chapters:

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

—–

1. Step into the Light

Glug, glug. The water funneled into the drain as I stepped out of the Jacuzzi tub.  I patted my body dry and then folded the tower, placed it on top of the toilet seat cover, and sat to lather the lotion onto my body.  Its sweet almond vanilla scent filled the entire bathroom, and I let out a sigh of bliss.

“Nada mejor que esto” I purred, not even realizing I had spoken in my birth tongue.  Nothing can be better than this.

I now stood fully naked in front of the sink.  Taking a paper towel from the stack provided by the townhouse, I wiped the fog from the mirror that ran the length of the wall.  For a moment I stood there, staring at my reflection.  

My mother’s reflection.

“Ay, pero si son igualitas!” She looks exactly like you! people always exclaimed upon seeing us.  As a child, I couldn’t believe that one day I would grow to look anything like her.  She was unbelievably beautiful, with her raven black hair that tumbled in waves down to her waist, her piercing green eyes, and magnificent olive skin.  She was the epitome of grace, always boasting perfect manners and basking in the goodwill of all who met her.  Men parted for her when she passed, women stared with awe and envy, and I wanted nothing more than to be like her.

“Always look down, Luseres” she instructed me as we came to pray in the town’s cathedral every morning and every evening.  “We cannot dare to look at the Omnipotent.  We are vile, cursed, and we don’t deserve His forgiveness.  Now, fold your hands, and say your prayers”

She was exceedingly pious, my mother.  For her the cathedral was home, just as much as the one bedroom duplex in the center of town.  She always did penance, gave alms to the poor, kissed the hand of the priest, and recited Hail Mary’s as her fingers counted nimbly on her rosary.  Looking at her from the corner of my eye, I could see the tear glistening as it rolled down her cheek, could hear the tremble in her whispers, and watched as she gently hit her chest, repentant of some vile sin. She acted as though she were the one at fault, but deep down I knew:  Something was terribly wrong with me.  

I could feel it in the way she always made sure I was blessed with holy water, felt it in the way the priest’s hands trembled with fear when he made the sign of the cross upon my forehead.  I could feel it in the way she made sure there was a statue of the Holy Virgin in my room.  “She will protect you,” she said when she tucked me into bed, then laid down next to me.  Her sleep was always restless as though expecting some danger to suddenly swoop down on us.

She never spoke of my father.  All I knew was that he was a soldier who died during one of the riots in Buenos Aires in the late eighties.  I had no picture of him, and she wept if I ever tried to ask.  At night I had nightmares of bombs exploding, of blood flowing down city streets, of red eyes under black hood that stood menacingly around my bed.  Every night when I woke up screaming, she would fall at the feet of the Virgin and pray for the evil to be kept at bay.

“He can’t have her!” she cried out, pleading with the higher powers.

I slammed my fist into the counter, fighting back the tears.  I tried to still my shaking body as I looked into the mirror of the past.  I was the image of my mother, but I had none of the virtues that made her perfect in my eyes.  I was a vile thing, selfish and prideful, seeking only to satisfy my every whim.  Had she lived, she would have been revolted by the monster I had become.

I guess in the end he did have you, she would have said with disgust.

I stood up straight and took a deep breath, swallowing the memories.  With shock, I realized that I hadn’t thought of my mother in a very long time.  I had drowned her memory beneath a frozen layer of apathy that served to numb the pain.  Complacence and the joys of this world had only pushed her back to the recesses of my subconscious, to the point where she became only a shadow, a faint image of some distant past.  But in the few hours since setting feet on Derry I had thought of her already twice, the first being on the bridge when I looked within to bring my voice forth.

Why?

Was it the effects of the portal the Man in Black claimed this town to be?  Or was it due to the powerful force that seemed to conceal it from the rest of the world?

I proceeded with my nightly facial ritual, then let my hair down.  I threw on my silk robe and walked into the bedroom.  I turned off all the lights, leaving only the lamp on the bedside table still on.  I pulled back the covers of the bed and as I moved to climb onto it, I heard the faint sound of laughter.  I stopped and looked toward the door, hoping to see the shadow of someone passing by, but there was no movement in the hall.  Then I heard it again.

It was a high pitched, almost childlike cackle.

My brow furrowed when I realized it came from outside my window.  I rushed to the balcony and looked out, but there was no one there.  I reached for the curtain to shut it, but instead my hand clutched the fabric in shock.

A red balloon drifted gently, directly in front of my window.  It moved slowly as if floating.  As I looked, it passed in front of a building with a flag on its roof, and I noticed that the wind blew in the opposite direction.  With a gasp, I realized that the balloon was drifting against the wind, then a deeply unsettling thought passed through my mind:

What if it’s the same balloon from the clown at the Canal?

“You’re going batshit crazy Lus” I chuckled as I watched it drift down Main Street and disappear.  I drew the curtain closed and turned back to the bed.

Then my blood froze.

The clown was crouched on top of the dresser.  He sat perfectly still, with his eyes fixed on me.  The dim light from the bedside table caused him to be bathed in shadow, but I could still make out the intricate pattern of his white silver suit.  I took in the orange pompoms and red cords that adorned his torso and boots, the tassels at his ankles and wrists from which bells hung, the thick ruffles of his collar.  Looking up I contemplated his face.  He had a large bulbous head caked with grease paint and talcum powder.  His lips were a bright red with two extending lines that crossed his eyes and peaked above his brow.  The tip of his nose was painted with the same bright red, and his eyes… dear God, his eyes.  They were two raging flames that burned and sparkled in the near darkness

He was… mesmerizing.  

 “Hello little songbird.  Remember me?” he purred.  His voice was a mixture between raspy and shrill, a sort of disjointed infantile yet masculine voice.  It was unsettling, but at the same time perfectly reasonable and rather pleasant.

“Who are you?” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  His eyes danced over me, looking me up and down as though I were an odd creature.

“Are you an Ancient?”

No answer.  His head moved side to side, studying me.

“Are you an Elemental?”

Silence.  More inquisitive looks.

“A… Glamour?”

His cocked his head at that, then he lifted a finger and wiggled it. 

“Ding, ding, ding!  Congratulations, you are kee-rrect!” he squealed.  

I took a step backwards. “What do you call yourself?”

His yellow eyes twinkled and his mouth opened in a wide smile.  I noticed the two large bunny-like front teeth which gave him a childlike appearance.  

“I’m Pennywise” he purred.  

“Pennywise” I breathed, feeling the way the name rolled off my tongue.  I was completely taken by him.  There was something fascinating and yet dreadful about him.   

“I never met a glamour before.  I am…”

“Luseres Vardanyan” he blurted out.  

I felt my body go ice cold. He had said my birth name. 

My mother’s name.

“How did you know?” I gasped.  When he didn’t reply I took a step towards him, trying to catch a clear view of him.  “Show yourself.  Step into the light”  

He jumped off the dresser and began sauntering towards me, slightly slouched and with his hands clasped together.  Like an animal walking up looking for food, the thought crossed through my mind.  He stopped at arm’s length, moving his head side to side, smiling at me.  I stood my ground.

“Oh, I know a bit about you” he singsonged “but I wanna know more” 

“If you’re trying to intimate me, it won’t work” I chuckled “you’re not the first shapeshifter I’ve come across”

He laughed deep in his throat, but there was no humor in his eyes.  His gaze was piercing, searching… seeing.  

“Oh, but none like old Pennywise I’m sure” he crooned.  His hand slowly reached out to me, ghosting over my face.  “I can see you. I can smell you.  I can taste every drop of fear that seeps into your bones when you lay awake at night. I know why you always leave the light on.  You’re afraid of the dark”  

I laughed long and hard.  He laughed along with me as though it were a great joke.

“Afraid? Me?  Please little clown, I’m an Untouchable.  I can walk through fire and not a single hair on my head will burn.  Nothing can harm me.  Not even you” I said, crossing my arms.

“Untouchable? Ooh that’s exciting!” he exclaimed, shaking his shoulders and making his bells jingle. “If you can’t be touched, then how can I do THIS?!”

I screamed.  His large gloved hand curled tightly around my throat and a searing pain exploded in my head.   I felt him push into my mind, and as much as I tried to fight against the intrusion, he easily overpowered me. I felt panic rising in my throat, and I clawed and tried to break free of his neck-breaking hold.

Suddenly he let go, and I nearly crumbled to the floor.  

“Guess you just got touched” he teased, and began laughing maniacally.  I took the opportunity and made a dash for the door, but he bested me by leaping in front of me, blocking my way.

“You can’t hurt me, you can’t hurt me” I kept muttering in dismay as I clumsily stumbled backwards and he mirrored my every movement.  We danced around the room until my back hit the dresser and I couldn’t stop the cry of alarm that escaped my throat.  Fuck.  I was trapped.  His hands roughly grabbed my face again and he held me in place as he pushed his nose into my neck and inhaled.

“Hmm…” he moaned, drinking me in “what you are running from, Lus?”

I felt my mind go numb as he entered me again.  

“There is something… oh yes, I see it… wait, what’s that? Hmm… daddy has to do things… dirty things…”

“Get out of my head” I snarled. 

“I can help you, little Lus.  I can make you disappear.  You will just simply…float away”

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, fighting against the pain that throbbed in my temples.  Mastering every ounce of strength, I reached forward and curled my hands around his neck, right through the ruffled collar, and with my mind I pushed back against him.  If my demise was about to come at the hands of an otherworldly horror, I was not going out without a fight.

“Show me what you are!” I demanded.  He growled down at me and pushed further in.  

“SHOW ME!”

And then I felt it, the electrifying pull of a magnet followed by a jolt as though two pieces were forcefully thrust together. I looked deep into his yellow eyes, he looked deep into mine, and then I saw…

…There was a well, an old well, and were seven blurry figures poised to strike as the clown cowered in fear… there was a paper boat racing toward its tragic destiny down a gutter swollen with rain… there were mangled bodies of children… countless bodies all piled in a bloody heap of limbs and shredded flesh… and then there were flashing images of a small budding town receding back into its past until it was no more than a small cluster of log cabins… and yet the pages of history kept flying backwards until there was an explosion in a darkened, prehistoric sky, and something came crashing down to Earth… and then… I saw It… there was darkness, and yet in the midst of that darkness were three swirling orange lights that raged and mewled, writhing in ravenous hunger…

“It was you” I whispered “you feed on them”

The clown recoiled as if burned, and the link was broken.    

“You come from the darkness behind the universe, from the Prim” I said with realization. “Now I understand.  That’s why this town is a portal, because it is your feeding ground.  I’ve heard of your kind and where you hail from, but I never believed you to be real.  They said that all eldritch creatures were dead, and yet here you are.  You must be the last one left”

He stared at me for what seemed like forever.  A thin line of drool began to flow copiously from the corner of his mouth.    

“Who brought you here?” he asked “are you an agent of the Other?”

“No.  I was brought by the Man in Black.  He calls himself Walter Padick”

“Man in black” he repeated, looking away as if contemplating the name.  I could almost see his thoughts racing in that huge head of his as he nodded, staring off absentmindedly.  “Robert Gray… Walter Padick” he murmured, barely above a breath.  Then his face lit up with realization and he turned to me once more, taking my face in his hands.  This time his touch was not rough or probing, yet not exactly gentle.  His demeanor was no longer antagonizing, but curious again.

“You’re a gift.  A most opportune gift” he purred.  He touched my hair, traced the contours of my face, and then I felt his thumb brushing over my lips.  His eyes danced over me, drinking me in.  Then to my surprise he brought his face close to mine, dangerously close.  He nuzzled my nose and I felt drool drip onto my chin. And then, for the first time, I smelled him.  The cacophony of smells that exploded in my senses was both pungent and delectable, like a toxic potion of wet earth, of hallowed ground defiled by the falling of the rain. I could smell the circus, with its jumble of buttered popcorn and all manners of tempting confections.  I smelled time on him, like the smell of vintage fabric inside some old granny’s wooden chest.  But beneath those scents, there was something tangy and endearingly sweet that I could taste it.  It was the unmistakable scent of lemon drops covered in sugar, my favorite candy as a child.  Overwhelmed, I buried my nose in the ruffles of his collar, wanting nothing more than to devour the source of that smell.

So captivated was I, so lost to this new wealth of sensations, that I did not notice when the ties of my robe slid open.  In the throes of my haze I felt a gentle tickling sensation that sent shards of heat surging to my head and the tips of my toes.  Had I enough sense of reality I would have realized that the pompoms of his suit were rubbing against my skin, particularly the one at his waist which was brushing against the juncture of my legs.  

I let out a sound that was either a whine or a moan, and felt his body vibrate as he growled deep in his throat.  His hands were at my hips, pressing into my skin as he held me against him.  He was so firm, so strong…

“Never had a mate before” I heard him whisper. 

At the words, I snapped out of my trance.  I gasped loudly upon seeing my naked state and yanked my robe closed. I quickly looked away, ashamed, horrified… and confused.  

“Open your mouth” I heard him order “let me see”

“What?” I asked incredulous.

I gasped when he opened my mouth with his thumbs and peered inside.  “Hmmm… mmm…oh yes” he mumbled as he turned my head this way and that way, opening my mouth wider and trying to see deep down into my throat.  He swooped in closer and sniffed.

“What are you doing?!” I babbled as his fingers prodded my mouth.  He let go and I shrank back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.  

“What the fuck was that?!” I yelled.  He reached out again and this time he squeezed my jaw.  I winced when I felt him pushing against its hinges as if testing out its strength.

“They’re strong” he remarked with satisfaction “oh you’ll do just nicely!”

Then to my astonishment, he jumped and clapped in sheer delight, laughing so hard it sounded like a hoarse shriek.

“What do you want from me?” I breathed “you obviously don’t want to eat me”  

He kissed me.  It was the most awkward and clumsiest kiss.  His lips were pursed together and he pressed them against mine.  He pulled back with a loud smacking sound and then he pinched my cheeks. 

“Don’t go anywhere, little songbird.  The fun has only just begun”

And with that, his eyes glowed blindingly bright.  I took one look, and the last thing I registered was the way my knees buckled and the rustle of silk as his strong arms scooped me up.

Then, darkness.

End of Chapter 3

Click here for the next chapter!

-----

Tagged: @hello-helianthus @floatingwithpennywise

A/N: If you wish to be tagged so you don’t miss any chapters, leave me a comment or send me an ask!  Please let me know what you guys think, it means SO MUCH!  The smut will begin soon in a couple of chapters from here, so don’t worry, it’s coming! ;-)