I'm going to be honest with you folks, I only really care about the combat report itself. xD You can give me extraneous details if you want, but that doesn't mean I'll use them...
C'mon, you offer comedy gold like that and don't expect me to take advantage?
You hear a knock at your door. A tingle races up your spine; you peek out of the window and see
him standing there, covered in purple paint and wearing nothing but a ragged loincloth. Your mouth is dry. You timidly unlock the door and open it and give him a sunny smile. He seems uncomfortable. "So, yeah... I, uh, well..." He gestures down at the paint covering his hairless, finely-muscled chest. "I think I look kinda like a bogeyman, huh?" You nod. You don't have any words. It's finally happening, you've finally found someone crazy enough to help you live out your fantasy. You've waited so long for this moment! You grab his hand and pull him inside, slamming the door eagerly.
With a gentle shove, you press him up against the door and lean against him. His skin is faintly clammy; he's understandably nervous. You try to reassure him and run one pale, soft hand down his chest. "It's okay. You don't have to hurt me," you murmur as you try and nudge him into playing his role properly. After all, he agreed to this for your birthday. The least he could do is follow the script.
He seems to get into the swing of things, now. His fingers, so long and fine, grip your shoulders a little harder than is comfortable. His eyes bore into yours and you wonder what he's thinking. As much as you want this, you want him to be having fun too. Gingerly, timidly, he leans down and kisses your forehead and it's like a fire is ignited all through you. Your hands clutch at his shoulders and yyou let out a sigh as you feel his tongue trace down the side of your face.
The velvety softness of his tongue tracks down to your jaw and begins to wander back upwards; you turn and bite his tongue. You give him a wicked glance and tug playfully on his tongue, only for him to scream in pain. He lets go of you and you fall over in shock, vaguely realising that his tongue is still in your teeth. You spit it out. "What the
fuck, Bruce? What the absolute fuck?" He's too busy clutching at his mouth to answer you, so you look down at the tongue again. Was it a fake? You prod it with one toe. No, it's definitely a real tongue. But... He doesn't seem to be bleeding much. "What's going on?" you ask him again. "What the hell is going on?" He glares at you angrily. "Bruce... Are... Are you
actually a bogeyman?"
His glare softens, fades. His hands drop away from his mouth to reveal a nearly bloodless injury. He looks around uncertainly before giving you one quick nod. "Oh... Oh my God. You're really... you're actually..." He takes a step back and half turns to go, but you leap for him and slam him against the wall. "That is so
hot." You have time to see the surprise in his eyes before your lips press against his. Hands run down your back again and you shudder against him. This is so much better than you had hoped, so much
more than those dirty books you had stolen from a necromancer's tower suggested.
You leave a trail of kisses down his purple skin, marvelling at the dry flakiness. It tastes strange, but so
so good. His muscled arms are so inviting, so you trace your lips down his left shoulder; his other hand slides up your back to stroke your hair. You kiss your way down his arm to his wrist before biting it gently, lovingly. His wrist is spongy, not what you expected. You bite a little harder and for the second time that night, you feel his flesh give way. His hand tears off in your mouth; all you can taste is the rough, fibrous muscles and tendons of his body.
He howls at you in pain and tries to push you away, but you don't care. There's a fire in your belly that isn't going out until he damn well
puts it out; you're not going to let him escape. Hell no. He's a bogeyman, a creature of the night and he's all yours. You're going to push him down onto your bed, you're going to tear that stupid loincloth off and you're going to ravish him until the sun rises. Then, to stop him vanishing, you're going to tie him down and have your way with him all day. You've waited so very long for this moment that you're not going to let some stupid injury wreck it for you!
He seems to realise this. Or maybe his hand is not actually hurting him all that much. Do bogeymen even have pain nerves? Who knows. You feel his right hand run down your back again, harder this time. He's getting rougher now, he's no longer acting like a human. Fine hands grip at your waistband; you invite him in by kissing his neck hungrily. Fingers slide down inside your skirt; your skin feels like it's going to burst into flames where he's touching you. Your legs feel all shivery and you're no longer thinking straight; you bite down hard on his shoulder, trying to keep the pleasured scream from ripping our of your mouth.
His shoulder gives way. You stumble in surprise and fall to the ground and the remains of his arm fall next to you. The hard, cold floor shocks some sense into you and you look up at the bogeyman of your dreams, now missing his entire left arm. He seems angry. Your stomach twists. "Bruce, I'm sorry... I'm really sorry, I don't know what happened... What came over me, I... uh..." The voiceless bogeyman just grunts at you unintelligibly. He bends, picks up his arm and turns for the door. "No, Bruce, don't go! Please! Please, I can be good... Just... don't leave me..." He halts for a second before straightening his back and walking resolutely for the door.
"Will... Will I ever see you again?"
The look he gives you tells it all.
Don't go out alone at night.
So, yeah, I'm off to purge my brain now.
Author
Topic: Come, give me your combat reports so I may narrate them! (Read 7663 times)