He came inside me. Started to feel strange before he even pulled out. I think he realized he was having a heart attack. He requested that I inform only his children, and I said yes.
[But she's more focused on Alaric. And. The corpse. She's in a hoodie and torn up tights, dark sunglasses on when she makes it there oddly quick. She seeks him out like a scenthound, somehow lucking into the right spot as if drawn by something specific. Is it Alaric or the scent of death?]
[ He is... not naked, miraculously, but the shirt and pants are unbuttoned, no sign of underwear between the vee of the loose fly. By the window, smoking, Al finishes a drag and points at FP's body with the cigarette. He died on a comfortable surface, at least. ]
But then she goes over like a little fruit fly, buzzing around FP. Touches her fingers to his neck, marvels at the little bit of warmth still there and the chill coming through him. She lifts (or tries to) his arm to check the status of rigor. Dead things fascinate her. She wishes she could stuff him. Is that weird? Humans are just very big animals...]
Death is indiscriminate. When it's your time, it's your time.
[She wants to nudge him with the tip of her boot, but doesn't. She could stand here like a child, poking at him with a stick indefinitely. Her fascination is wholly consuming, and she breaks herself out of it if only because Alaric is there. And her obsession with him trumps all others. She moves to him, hand outstretched for his.]
[ He takes her hand, brings her close, expression unchanged. If he truly felt that this was a tragedy, it never quite made it to his face. ]
He came in me. There was an odd pause, after. He had his hand over his chest, staring at … nothing, it looked like, but very focused at the same time. I think he both understood and didn't. There was time for him to tell me who to inform if his time was done. I tried not to touch him. But I watched.
There was this… debate, in his eyes. I don't see it in animals. Fighting himself in his own head. He didn't want to die. He knew he had no choice. Rebellion and acceptance all at once, and then nothing.
[Liv seems entranced - her eyes a little wider than normal, her gaze sharper and less dull. She's present as she listens to him because this topic has always ignited something in her... this passion, a firey fixation that some people (most people) have called strange, odd and fucked up. Death calls to her, it's like an itch she can never scratch - and hearing about it makes it feel like maybe, just maybe, she can this time.
She is a kitten scratching at the air, paw batting and batting and batting...
Her fingers clutch Alaric and she pulls him toward her, bodies together, arms wound around his neck and playing with his hair. She wants to kiss him, so she does, but she also wants to look at (to touch) the corpse, too. It's like there's something about this moment she needs to do but can't quite place it. It's right there...]
[ Everything melts away when her arms wrap around him, when her lips meet his. Death swarms her thoughts and senses in a buzz while Al's obsession with his sister's attention takes him over completely, hands sliding from her elbows to her shoulders and rib cage. They stop at her waist; he leans away from the kiss. ]
[She's surrounded herself with death to feed this fascination through the corpses of animals, which she meticulously builds back up into posed forms. But it's been a long time since she saw a human corpse, far too long, and her nails dig half-moons into his skin not out of pleasure but out of a cold, passing thought. She softens, and directs his face back toward her, kissing him again.
He was almost cold. The one corpse she does not want to see. (Yet does.)]
[ Obedient, always, Al turns to her, returns her kiss, gives it everything she deserves and everything he's greedy for. His hand is on her breast squeezing and fondling, finger brushing over the nipple, wanting to see how hard it can get under the fabric. Still, he teases, ]
They're on their way, Liv. Do you think we have time for this?
I won't ever speak to you again if you don't give me what I want.
[A threat that truly holds no meaning - is laced with her blend of humor, but also a sharp, needing demand. The world beyond them doesn't matter much to her, whoever comes next to the room can do so in ten minutes or sixty - she'll still be occupied, she thinks, with the love of her life. Her other half.
She lifts her shirt higher, softly sighs against him and whispers to his ear:]
[ Smiling, sadistic and in love, Al pinches her nipple and shows teeth, grabbing his sister to turn her around and make her face the body. The hand that slides under her skirt and pulls her underwear down is rough, rushed and unhesitating, as he leans over to lick and bite the shell of her ear. He smears his fingers with her wet, spreading it up and down between her folds, slipping around the circle of her clit. The other arm crosses over her chest in an oppressive embrace, under her shirt to fondle her breasts. ]
[She makes the most displeased of grunts, turned around to face the corpse - her legs spread at the intrusion of his finger between her folds, toying with her clit and making her push up on her toes with a whimper. She's soaking wet, rocking back up against him, desperate to feel more.]
You're cruel.
[Said breathy, smile to her lips. Her fingers reach out- reaching for the body, feeling over the nearest limb. Rigid and cold, unlike their warm and bending bodies. She squeezes her legs together, suddenly, already close to her first orgasm.]
[ Her laughter drives him wild, makes his teeth hungry for her flesh, scraping and nipping at the ear, neck, even her cheek and jawline. All interspersed with kisses while his fingers work relentlessly, pressing and massaging over her favorite points, as confident and familiar with her body as if it were his own. ]
It was empty, [ He continues, breathy like her, lids low. He isn't interested in looking at the man, even less so in touching him again. Alaric's mind can only think of her warmth, drenching him in her fluid, proof that she missed him. She always does. ] His stare. Wild yet knowing. [ The first finger circles her entrance, pushes in and curls. Trying to fight against his death as if he were trying to will the tide to stop rising.
[Wild, yet knowing - what a vivid picture painted in her mind, eyes closing as she lets out a whimpered cry. She clamps around his fingers, rolling back against them, feeling the warmth of her slick run down her leg. As her eyes are shut she can picture it like black oil, all over Alaric's hand - smeared between her thighs. She moans, louder still.]
Futile, it was - futile - to fight.
[Death is inevitable. You may escape it once, or many times, but it is always there. It is here in this room. It resonates all around them, she feels, unaware that she is simply feeling herself radiate those vibes. Her head falls forward, and she curls her toes.]
[She couldn't think of anything but him, even if she tried. She can't think of anything but the heat of his breath against her ear. The way her hair moves because he's behind her, weight pressed against her. She thinks of what his body feels like - warm, alive, in contrast to the rigid sight before her. The blue hue to the man's lips, the cold to his skin. Alaric tethers her to a reality in which he is every embodiment of life in a room otherwise composed of death, and she's whimpering his name on repeat.]
I need you. I need you to make me come. I need- I need to feel you in me.
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He fucked me. Then he died. I'm not sure if I should be offended or not.
One of them wants to kill me. The other one intends to feed me my own dick.
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tell me more about how he died
it was while he was fucking you? or after
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Is it a crime to lie to a dying man?
You should come over. Before they arrive.
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Is he still warm?
Did you feel it happen? The moment
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I did. [ It should have been us, all those years ago. ] It's why you should have been by my side.
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How much time do we have? I'm coming now. Your room, no?
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[ insert location which is like some cabana by the pool ]
They were really very upset. Maybe you should bring something that would help two healthy young adults calm down. We should have enough time.
[ you know, the kind you inject in someone's neck when they don't expect it. ]
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[But she's more focused on Alaric. And. The corpse. She's in a hoodie and torn up tights, dark sunglasses on when she makes it there oddly quick. She seeks him out like a scenthound, somehow lucking into the right spot as if drawn by something specific. Is it Alaric or the scent of death?]
Show me.
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But then she goes over like a little fruit fly, buzzing around FP. Touches her fingers to his neck, marvels at the little bit of warmth still there and the chill coming through him. She lifts (or tries to) his arm to check the status of rigor. Dead things fascinate her. She wishes she could stuff him. Is that weird? Humans are just very big animals...]
I don't recognize him. New fling?
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If not him, then fate. ]
More or less. I met him at the orgy. When I brought Eve with me, you remember. We had a good time.
I thought he was too young to die like this. It's tragic, no?
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[She wants to nudge him with the tip of her boot, but doesn't. She could stand here like a child, poking at him with a stick indefinitely. Her fascination is wholly consuming, and she breaks herself out of it if only because Alaric is there. And her obsession with him trumps all others. She moves to him, hand outstretched for his.]
Tell me about it. The moment.
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He came in me. There was an odd pause, after. He had his hand over his chest, staring at … nothing, it looked like, but very focused at the same time. I think he both understood and didn't. There was time for him to tell me who to inform if his time was done. I tried not to touch him. But I watched.
There was this… debate, in his eyes. I don't see it in animals. Fighting himself in his own head. He didn't want to die. He knew he had no choice. Rebellion and acceptance all at once, and then nothing.
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She is a kitten scratching at the air, paw batting and batting and batting...
Her fingers clutch Alaric and she pulls him toward her, bodies together, arms wound around his neck and playing with his hair. She wants to kiss him, so she does, but she also wants to look at (to touch) the corpse, too. It's like there's something about this moment she needs to do but can't quite place it. It's right there...]
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How long has it been since you've seen one.
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[She's surrounded herself with death to feed this fascination through the corpses of animals, which she meticulously builds back up into posed forms. But it's been a long time since she saw a human corpse, far too long, and her nails dig half-moons into his skin not out of pleasure but out of a cold, passing thought. She softens, and directs his face back toward her, kissing him again.
He was almost cold. The one corpse she does not want to see. (Yet does.)]
Touch me.
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They're on their way, Liv. Do you think we have time for this?
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[A threat that truly holds no meaning - is laced with her blend of humor, but also a sharp, needing demand. The world beyond them doesn't matter much to her, whoever comes next to the room can do so in ten minutes or sixty - she'll still be occupied, she thinks, with the love of her life. Her other half.
She lifts her shirt higher, softly sighs against him and whispers to his ear:]
Lift me up, right next to it.
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[ Smiling, sadistic and in love, Al pinches her nipple and shows teeth, grabbing his sister to turn her around and make her face the body. The hand that slides under her skirt and pulls her underwear down is rough, rushed and unhesitating, as he leans over to lick and bite the shell of her ear. He smears his fingers with her wet, spreading it up and down between her folds, slipping around the circle of her clit. The other arm crosses over her chest in an oppressive embrace, under her shirt to fondle her breasts. ]
First you watch.
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You're cruel.
[Said breathy, smile to her lips. Her fingers reach out- reaching for the body, feeling over the nearest limb. Rigid and cold, unlike their warm and bending bodies. She squeezes her legs together, suddenly, already close to her first orgasm.]
Tell me how it felt again. How you witne- ah.
[She writhes, laughing lightly in desperation.]
How- how it... how it felt...
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It was empty, [ He continues, breathy like her, lids low. He isn't interested in looking at the man, even less so in touching him again. Alaric's mind can only think of her warmth, drenching him in her fluid, proof that she missed him. She always does. ] His stare. Wild yet knowing. [ The first finger circles her entrance, pushes in and curls. Trying to fight against his death as if he were trying to will the tide to stop rising.
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Futile, it was - futile - to fight.
[Death is inevitable. You may escape it once, or many times, but it is always there. It is here in this room. It resonates all around them, she feels, unaware that she is simply feeling herself radiate those vibes. Her head falls forward, and she curls her toes.]
... Ala-Alaric, please.
[More. More.]
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[ Fingers slowing down, slippery, curl tight inside her like two long hooks. His whispers against her ear are as sharp as knives. ]
Think of nothing else when you look at him.
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[She couldn't think of anything but him, even if she tried. She can't think of anything but the heat of his breath against her ear. The way her hair moves because he's behind her, weight pressed against her. She thinks of what his body feels like - warm, alive, in contrast to the rigid sight before her. The blue hue to the man's lips, the cold to his skin. Alaric tethers her to a reality in which he is every embodiment of life in a room otherwise composed of death, and she's whimpering his name on repeat.]
I need you. I need you to make me come. I need- I need to feel you in me.
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cw: talking about necrophilia
don't look at dates
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🎀ish