Part 7 - The Shipment [NSFW]

The boy01/17/2020

----

Thomas had been informed by several letters that his shipment was going to be late. He then got a letter about how it was to be even later. Lords this would be a rough week. What were those surface dwellers doing? Spreading fire all over the place? Thomas huffed, cleaning his little living space, dusting little faux gold statues and plaques with no inscription. He had to clean, he knew he was coming today and today was a bad day. Very, very bad.

they01/17/2020

Outside, the rush of the Neath wind blows past Thomas's front door, an omen to distress them even more. Least, it would've been omen alone if the wind had continued; in the next instant, the breeze outside of his door ceases, leaving an unsettling darkness in its wake. Then, the sound of light-footed footsteps, each step becoming heavier as its owner heads down the stairs. Inside, Thomas can see the candlelight and gaslight around them dimming ever so slightly, like a mirage flickering as one approaches it.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas jumps, nearly knocking over a glass vase on his shelf. He rights it, sighing. Was this going to be the end of him? No. Not tonight, he could find a way out of this. He couldn't deny that chill down his spine, however, and the fear pounding in his heart. This man was always a fright to behold. He waited, knowing that even so, this man was proper.

they01/17/2020

The steps approach closer, becoming louder as the stranger nears; inside, the candles are dimming, until they're turned down low as if they had no wax left. Outside, the ground crunches. A muffled clearing of the throat, before the door suddenly rings out; two knocks, then three, then two again. Outside, a low, slightly vibrating voice rings clear through the false wooden-window;

???: Good evening. May I come in?

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas hesitates, then sets down his dusting rags. There was no way to avoid this. He gently slaps his face and puts on his best faux smile he can muster. Thomas sets to work on the door locks, opening it wide.

Thomas: Of course.... Deacon. Make yourself comfortable.

He steps to the side, still smiling, but shaking. He is allowing this man in, but watching him closely.

.

they01/17/2020

Outside, in the doorway, is a visitor. His hair is short and brushed back along the top of their skull, curled upwards as it reaches the back of their head in a likeness to the curled tongue of a flame. Under that, a face; his eyes are covered by a set of black spectacles with dark red metal lining the sides and tops of the lenses, making it impossible to catch a direct glimpse of their eyes. Though a set of eyes peers through the black lenses, it seems too perfect, too clear, and too lacking in blinking for them to be real. A sharp set of cheekbones, eerily smooth skin, and a curt, barely pursed set of lips adds to the uncanny resemblance. His clothes are likewise peculiar; at first glance, they look like a deacon's clergy robe, but a second inspection shows that, as they move, there are slits cut from the waist down to the hem. In between these slits, a dark red patterning can be seen stitched between the black coat, making the bottom half of the robe much more conducive to mobility. A watch, hanging from a chain, is clasped to their breast on their right side, the hands ticking quietly but poignantly in the dimmed room. Around his stiff, starch-ironed collar is a small rosary, a humble cross made of rosewood that is largely comforting save for the slight crookedness present on the right arm of the crucifix. His hands are covered in uncomfortably clean gloves (there's not even a seam for which dust and stains could settle into), and their right wrist has a silver bracelet, stylized to look like a circle of thorns. His shoes appear like ordinary soles, but the black leather has been shined and polished that, even in the dim candle- and gaslight, they seem to shine. The deacon stands, and they nod their head politely; though they seem to be deferring to Thomas, their voice is calm, a low tone in their voice inspiring dread every time they speak.

[

8:07 PM

]

Virgil: I thank you, then, for inviting me in.

The deacon lifts their head and walks into the room, never directly looking at Thomas; they take two steps into the room, looking around slowly.

.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas slowly closes the door behind the deacon, re-locking the door as is common. He moves to the living space and gestures to the lounge chair.

Thomas: Please, have a seat, I will make you something to drink.

He is constantly forcing a smile, even if the deacon isn't looking, Thomas knows hes watching.

.

they01/17/2020

The deacon lowers their head, an unsettling poignancy entering their voice as they walk towards the lounge seat.

Virgil: If a host offers, the host must be sure it quenches an appropriate thirst.

The deacon stands at the lounge seat, before sitting down, their posture immaculate yet natural.

***

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas nods curtly, before retreating into the kitchen. He gets up onto a stool to get at a peculiar bottle, resealed a few times, but with still a substantial amount of liquid. He grabs the glass tumbler set next to it. This was clearly meant for particular occasions. Amanita sherry, the label read. It seemed a little early for drinks, but he was in a dire situation.

Thomas: Of course, you are a well respected guest, after all.

He pours a small amount into the tumblers, and can already smell the fumes. He holds the glasses in a way that ensured he wouldn't leave any fingerprints or smudges, setting one glass on the table in front of the deacon, holding the other himself. He sits, carefully, in the chair in front of the deacon. The inside of Thomas's home was uncannily tidy. Free from most particulates and clearly well kept. Bookshelves were lined with faux valuables. Glass fruit, fake gold statues that seemed chipped enough to reveal an iron underside. The lounge chairs were old, torn but more intact than what you would see in a typical spite household. A pale floral pattern on one, and a dark floral on the other. They smelled like dust. The kitchen was simple, clean. A gas stove and a vent to the outside above it. The cabinets seemed new, a light, newly varnished wood.

.

they01/17/2020

The deacon nods, his hand wrapping around the glass and gently cradling it.

Virgil: Ah. . .an excellent gift.

The deacon raises the glass to their lips, their head tilting back as they draw a long sip from the glass; they drink before setting the glass down, the sherry lower down than before. To Thomas's knowledge, he didn't swallow at all. He speaks, the faint false-eyes on the spectacles staring at Thomas as the deacon places their linked hands together on the table politely.

Virgil: . . .a gift that is rarely broken out. Curious. . .curious. . ..

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas's fake smile seems to falter a bit, but he quickly regains it. He is tepidly touching the rim of the glass, looking right at the deacon, watching him drink. Good. Even if he suspects, this may be smoother.

Thomas: May I inquire you about the letters I sent you? I had not heard back, I was afraid perhaps they got lost in transit.

He seems to ignore any accusation, trying to keep the conversation pleasant.

they01/17/2020

The deacon raises their linked hands a little higher, sitting up as they grab at the glass again, silently sipping from it before they speak.

Virgil: . . .I haven't received any such correspondence.

The deacon drinks a little more sherry, setting the now half-empty glass down in the exact place it was resting.

Virgil: . . .surely, an oversight on behalf of London's mail services..

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas's stomach nearly drops through the floor. Good gods this might be worse than he thought. He had to decide. He needed a new plan. His hands grow even paler as he grips the glass tightly, but keeps this faux smile as steady as he can.

Thomas: I see. You wouldn't know, then.

Thomas's mind was racing on what he should do. He would rather keep his soul, but even if he offered it might not be enough. He had to tell the deacon, but he wasn't sure.

Thomas: They seem to be having... trouble getting shipments down from the surface. As of now, they said it would be..

He winces, only now his smile fading.

Thomas: Two more weeks.

they01/17/2020

The deacon leans forward, an elbow on the table as his other hand runs a finger around the rim of the glass of sherry. He speaks pointedly.

Virgil: You claimed it would arrive within the week.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas, crossing his legs in fear, tightening his grasp on the glass.

Thomas: I... Suggested, it might.

they01/17/2020

The deacon sits, their posture immaculate yet frozen as they stare at Thomas; a moment later, he relaxes, sitting back and taking another sip of their glass before lowering it slightly, the cup still clasped in their hand. The glass is closer to being empty than full.

Virgil: . . .mh. I suppose one has no obligation to fulfill what is merely offered instead of contracted.

The deacon sips again from their glass, setting it down again; a little emptier.

Virgil: . . .an offer is different from an obligation to give. . .

The deacon picks up the glass, tilting their head back as they silently sip; they set down an empty glass on the table, their false-eyes staring at Thomas.

Virgil: . . .now, why is it delayed?

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas notices the empty glass first. This wasn't acceptable, but so was leaving a question unanswered.

Thomas: My contact had been indisposed. She had gotten herself killed, and didn't return until recently.

He looks at the deacon, smiling again, before gesturing to his glass.

Thomas: Shall I refill your drink, Deacon?

they01/17/2020

The deacon sits forward, speaking evenly.

Virgil: Mmh, that is inconvenient. You had only one contact, then?

The deacon leans back, permitting Thomas to reach for the glass.

Virgil: And please do..

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas picks up the empty glass, still holding his own in the other hand, nodding.

Thomas: She was one of a few, but the only one able to take trips during the time of your requests.

Thomas moves to the kitchen once more, filling the empty glass. His own glass staying the same.

they01/17/2020

The deacon rests in their seat, leaning back ever so slightly as they stress their words pointedly.

Virgil: The only one? Absolutely and wholly no one else could be persuaded?.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas returns with the glasses, noting which was the deacons, and setting it down in front of him. He settles back into his seat, giving a bit of a nod.

Thomas: The only one currently. Unless you intend to pay a premium price of a thousand extra echoes. The price range you gave me would not make it worth either of our times.

Thomas disliked this thought. What was so bad about the surface currently that made it so expensive. He would have to ask once he got his shipment.

they01/17/2020

The deacon nods politely at the return of their glass, picking it up in one hand.

Virgil: Mmh. That would be inconvenient.

The deacon tilts their head back, sipping silently but poignantly from their glass, draining it to half-full in one draw. A bad omen.

Virgil: . . .were you aware of the possibility of delivery being delayed? If so, have you prepared a secondary course of action, such that something of value can be given to soothe the insult of being denied one's dues?.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas, smiling, tilts his head slightly. He did not like this direction of conversation.

Thomas: If I had been, you would have been the first to know. As it stands now, I have now a couple people looking into the new shipment, though I am still paying more than usual, your price will not change.

His smile widens, thinking, trying to mask his hesitation.

Thomas: I can leave you with a gift, if you would be so inclined to wait the two weeks.

He pauses, his smile fading.

Thomas: And, an apology for my misconduct..

they01/17/2020

The deacon stares at Thomas, their expression inscrutable.

Virgil: Apologies are nothing but words. Even urchins can get me words. Few can get me apples, or photographs of the sky. Even fewer can do so. . .regularly.

The deacon tilts back the glass, downing the rest of the sherry in one go (again, without a gurgle or even a swallow); they set down the empty glass, before linking their hands together and leaning forward, their elbows on the table. There is, however, a faint tugging at the edge of their lips, but too faint to be comforting.

Virgil: . . .I would be inclined, however, to see this gift..

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas nods.

Thomas: Shall I go retrieve them for you, then?

He asked, asking to leave the room. He had learned that merely getting up could be seen as rude, and he made efforts to keep these little things under wraps.

they01/17/2020

The deacon slowly sits back up, moving so their hands rest in their lap, clasping each other delicately. He speaks briefly, yet assertively:

Virgil: You may.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas stands, leaving his glass on the table. He nods as he leaves the room, and into the hallway. The storage room was almost empty, which was unusual. He swore under his breath in the room, digging through boxes on shelves. He knew it had to be somewhere

Thomas: Aha!

He pulls out a little bottle of souls, sealed, with a number etched on the outside. "5" He winced. This was not nearly enough. He thought for a second. Ah, the sherry. Surely that would make a good gift. He heads back to the living area, moving to the kitchen briefly to collect the bottle of sherry before returning to the deacon, setting the bottles down at the table gently.

Thomas: This, plus the rest of that... lovely sherry. I am very sorry to have caused you to come all the way out here for nothing. I may have the shipment in two weeks, but will inform you of any changes.

Thomas bites his bottom lip, a bit curious.

Thomas: I offer.. other services, if you would be so inclined to take.... or refuse them as an apology as well. Ah, perhaps not.

He sits across the table, the faux smile back up on his face, a sense of forced politeness.

.

they01/17/2020

The deacon holds a fist in front of their mouth, politely clearing their throat; a bad sign.

Virgil: Ahem. You did offer me a service, and you didn't deliver.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas's smile falters.

Thomas: Ah..

they01/17/2020

The deacon reaches up to their face, lowering their spectacles just a tad; Thomas can see a sliver of amber-colored, pupil-less eyes glancing back at them, the eyes insect-like in their filmy sheen.

Virgil: I will abstain from your service, if I'm going to be disappointed similarly.

The deacon pushes the lenses back on, before leaning in towards the bottle of souls. A hand curls around the sealed opening of the bottle of souls; the cloudy mist inside moves to the opposite side of the bottle, swirling away from the deacon's touch.

Virgil: . . .but, I will be taking this. It's not a cornucopia. . .but I suppose I could amuse myself with lighting a few of them on fire. They make delightful colors when conflagrated. . .

The deacon wraps their other hand around the top of the opened sherry bottle.

Virgil: . . .as for the sherry. . .

The deacon rubs a finger around the broken wax seal on the top of the bottle.

Virgil: . . .I will tell you that it is impolite to give someone a gift that is already used..

[

10:35 PM

]

The deacon pauses, before lowering their grip on the bottle and grabbing it by the neck.

Virgil: However, as I am in need of sherry, and that I have insulted you in turn. . .I will overlook this..

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas, biting his tongue, his fake smile gone.

Thomas: Virgil.

That had been the first time he had used his name in a year, he was seething. His services? Clearly this man had forgotten all the times he'd been on top of his clients requests. A minor slip up in this one moment.

Thomas: My services are consistent, and well sought after. If you would like to challenge me on that I would suggest you at least see what I offer before making accusations.

they01/17/2020

The deacon sets the bottle down on the table, their face inscrutable.

Virgil: What are you offering, then?

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas seems to relax a bit, a bit too prepared for this question.

Thomas: I offer a range of services. The ones you are so kind to consistently order from me, clothing, and indecent services. These are my more popular kind, though for good reason.

Thomas leans back into his chair.

Thomas: Even being with the church, it seems you've found ways around the.... policies... they've set in place. The news some people bring me sometimes is daunting.

they01/17/2020

The deacon sets the bottle of souls down besides the opened bottle of Amanita Sherry, standing up from their chair. Their tone is even handed as they speak, their hands clasping the other gently.

Virgil: You seem to be under the impression that the church I represent is unaware of my circumvention of their mandates and policies.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas watches the deacon very carefully. He stays relaxed in his chair, and for the first time since his visit, is genuinely smiling.

Thomas: Then, perhaps you are satisfied with your chase. Must be quite a lady.

they01/17/2020

The deacon stands for a moment, before sitting back in their chair, their expression largely neutral (though there is the faintest curling of the lips).

Virgil: The chase is not for satisfying a carnal hunger; if you know of my belonging to a church, then you should also know I am not permitted to be satisfied for pleasure alone.

The deacon grabs the open bottle of sherry, filling a glass for themselves; they habitually twitch (moving to fill up Thomas's glass), before remembering that his glass is already full, setting the decanter down.

Virgil: . . .I am merely practicing my duties as a deacon of the church. I do not have an interest in the lady, nor would I be permitted as such; she is merely in need of spiritual guidance, and I am here to be guiding her towards what is best for her, with whatever means I must.

The boy01/17/2020

Thomas clasps his hands together, grinning now.

Thomas: Is that so? Fascinating. Maybe you can spiritually guide me later.

He sighs. This was getting nowhere, without much to get from him in this matter Thomas felt like it was a lost cause.

Thomas: If you change your mind, I am willing to give you a free night. For, ah, being such a gracious customer. Until then, you can come back in two weeks, check and see if your shipment is in, and I'll.... fill you in if it has.

January 18, 2020

they01/18/2020

The deacon sips from their glass, drinking without swallowing and sitting immaculately; they drink, placing the immediately empty cup down onto the table again.

Virgil: Well, you certainly seem in need of guidance. Whether that is a spiritual need, I would require. . .

The deacon fills another glass of sherry.

Virgil: . . .closer examination to ascertain.

The deacon tilts their head back, before downing the contents of the cup eerily quickly; they place the cup down again, the glass mostly empty but lightly stained with some leftover sherry.

Virgil: Alternatively, if you were uncomfortable with such personal observations. . .I would accept another soul, tortured in not having their needs met, and teach it how to meet its needs through yourself as a model into itself.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas is thinking carefully about the deacon's words. What was he offering? It sounded too much like a contract to him, but his interest was piqued.

Thomas: Mm... Well.....

they01/18/2020

Suddenly, the front door rattles violently in its doorframe; while the noise echoes in the room, the deacon doesn't react as much, merely turning their head towards the door; their expression seems to sour briefly, before being relaxes with a blank neutrality.

Virgil: . . .I suppose I was not your only guest tonight, then?

Outside, there is a muffled voice as the door handle jostles in place (luckily locked but not budging).

???: Damn, foiled by a lock. Quick, child, do you have kifers? Or is this one of those polite folks?

The door suddenly raps out in a knock; a particular kind of knock would be how a polite person would describe it. A much ruder person would describe it as "an annoying, repeated rapping over and over, broken by the occasional pause".

???: Oy! Anyone home!? Did you die of your own will!?

Inside, the deacon's expression darkens; while their face remains neutral, there is a pursed appearance to their lips, a creasing around the eyes indicative of a squinting; they tilt their heads lightly towards Thomas, looking directly at them in the eye.

Virgil: . . .Thomas. . .what are you getting at, here?.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas looks at the door, his brow furrowing.

Thomas: No, I cleared my schedule for you.

Behind the door they can hear screeching, and a rustling.

??: YOU BAFOON, THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO BE BREAKING INTO HOUSES!

Thomas suddenly raises his eyebrows. That was odd. What was he doing here?

Thomas: If you'll excuse me, I'll see what my.... Surprise guests want.

Thomas nods politely to the deacon, and gets up. He walks to the door, unlocking the locks and opening the door slightly.

Thomas: Yes? What's your business here?.

they01/18/2020

As the door opens, Thomas comes across the a scuffle between Able and a strange bandaged person's gloved hands; Able is pulling at a pen clenched in the person's hand.

The Bandaged: Now hang on, I can get the door open. . !

The boy01/18/2020

Able: You will not!

they01/18/2020

The bandaged person freezes once the door opens, and stands perfectly upright; they let go of their pen suddenly, letting Able pull back with it. The bandaged person isn't directly looking inside, but instead moving to squat, looking Thomas in the eye and patting their head much like one would do to a cute but particularly dirty urchin.

The Bandaged: Ah! Well, excuse me boy, but. . .er, where's your master, or teacher, or whatever the head of this building is called? I've been informed by some reliable sources that they have exceptional skill in acquiring a particular kind of good.

Inside the house, the deacon silently fills a glass with sherry, almost to the very top; afterwards, they start fiddling with the bottle of souls, moving their hands around the sides and corralling the wisps on the inside towards the sealed spout. They mutter to themselves darkly.

Virgil: . . .a stronger drink will be needed to soothe the aches of the head..

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas watches Able fall back, and nearly his his rear on the stairs. Able only manages to fall into the railing, but otherwise is fine, holding the pen with surprise. Thomas looks up at the bandaged. He looks unimpressed. This was his teacher?

Thomas: This is my home, I am that man. What goods are you looking to acquiring?

He opens the door all the way. Trying to signal to Able to go inside. It doesn't take. Able looks confused.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man blinks(? At the very least, the eyes on their glasses do).

The Bandaged: I don't believe you. You're much too small to own a house!

In the back of the room, the deacon unplugs the vial of souls, and a green wisp flows out of the bottle before it gets re-plugged. Immediately, the deacon grabs at the stray soul, squeezing it between clasped palms; the next, the deacon moves to place the caught wisp into their filled glass, causing the glass to burble briefly from warmth before settling. The sherry in the glass has a very dim green glow to it, and the deacon raises the glass to their lips, imbibing in the now much thicker sherry. They place the glass, the viscous liquid drained a quarter of the way. Meanwhile, the bandaged person is trying to lean around Able, trying to look into the dim room ("Why are the lights turned down so low?" comes to the person's mind).

Virgil: . . .mh. . .bitter, but filling. The Bandaged: -Muttering.- I mean, really. . .if this is a practical joke on your end, it's a very poor one at that. . .

The deacon reaches over, removing the mark "5" on the bottle, and scratching in a "4" on the bottle (a curious thing, considering that they seem to be wearing gloves.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas: Don't patronize me, sir. Able, my room, now.

Thomas points to the hall door, and Able looks even more confused. This seemed like a bad time for that sort of thing.

Able: Alright?

Able walks past Thomas who grabs them, whispering in their ear.

Thomas: Don't talk to him.

He let's go, and Able looks even more confused, but nods. He heads through the living area, and then sees the man. Oh. Devils. Right.

Thomas: Please, sit, I will discuss matters in a bit.

He steps to the side, allowing the bandaged in.

Thomas: How do you take your tea?

they01/18/2020

The deacon continues sipping from their glass, making no comment to Able's presence; despite this, however, Able has the sensation that they're being watched intensely, like a hole is being bored through them. Meanwhile, the bandaged person steps inside, their glasses looking around the dim room while their true eyes glance in different directions.

The Bandaged: I prefer wine to tea, if you happen to have any. A grape wine would be great, but Neath wine works as well; perhaps a mushroom sherry of. . .some. . .

The bandaged person is looking towards the deacon.

The Bandaged: . . .sort.

There's a brief pause, and the deacon lazily raises a hand in a half-hearted gesture of recognition, their voice equally lazy.

Virgil: Yes. Hello. Greetings. Any number of distant salutations.

The bandaged person smiles under their bandages, moving towards the vacant seat with manic energy.

The Bandaged: -Raising their arms.- Why, Virgil! Virgil: -Raising their glass to their lips.- I will not have you calling me that. The Bandaged: -Sarcastically; raising their arms with sag.- . . .why, thou Bifurcated One-est! Thou Marooon Martyr! Thine Divine Devil!. . .shall I continue?

The deacon continues drinking from their glass, refusing to comment. Meanwhile, the bandaged person turns towards Thomas.

The Bandaged: See, I knew there was a proper adult living here; Able, how come you never told me you knew this devil?.

The boy01/18/2020

Able stops in his tracks, turning to Thomas, looking very embarrassed. He would apologize if he could.

Able: I don't. Excuse me.

Able quickly flees into the hallway as Thomas moves to the kitchen, ignoring the bandaged's comments for the most part, pulling out the cheapest wine he had stashed below the counter. He uncorks it, and starts pouring them a glass.

Thomas: The deacon is merely a client. We have no current relation beyond that.

Thomas sets the large glass on the opposite side of the table.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged person seats themselves at the table, grabbing at the glass. They speak to Thomas in a rather condescending tone.

The Bandaged: Mhm, it's okay darling; I understand.

The deacon drinks from their glass, slowly emptying the thick slurry of soul-sherry, before placing the glass down and speaking to the bandaged person curtly..

Virgil: You ought to practice the virtue of comprehension. It's a shame that such a basic skill needs to be immortalized as a virtue in the modified scriptures, but then I meet people like. . .

The deacon fills the glass with more sherry.

Virgil: -Contemptuous.- . . .you. The Bandaged: Aw, come now; you love me, don't you?

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas moves to the end of the table between the two men. He sighs.

Thomas: Sir, what goods are you wishing to get from me? I offer three main services, and you seem like you may need....

He looks the bandaged up and down.

Thomas:...all three..

they01/18/2020

The bandaged person takes a sip of the wine Thomas placed in front of them. . . .immediately, they bring the cup back to their lips, spitting the wine back into the cup and looking at the glass with distaste.

The Bandaged: . . .ugh! This is dreadful! Virgil: Surface.

The deacon spoke in-between sips; they lower their glass, looking to Thomas.

Virgil: He is here for memories of the Surface, and other goods. The Bandaged: -Sipping again.- Phegh! . .it's so bad!

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas looks at the deacon, leaning into them ever so slightly.

Thomas: Are you distributing to him as well? Does he pay well?

they01/18/2020

Virgil: -Sipping from their glass.- Yes. . .and yes, for certain things. The Bandaged: Ah, he's my main supplier of wine. . .food. . .the edibles, as it were. . .

The bandaged person keeps sipping the wine, before spitting it back into the glass, repeatedly doing so.

The Bandaged: Pfeh! Disgusting. . .fheh! . .

The deacon pulls the spectacles off of their eyes, pinching their nose; though they look weary, their amber-colored eyes never close, or even blink (though they do shine from some kind of filmy wetness over the exposed eye.

Virgil: -To Thomas.- . . .disregarding this guest. . .who was your other. . .friend?.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas thinks a bit.

Thomas: Interesting. very, interesting.

He looks at the deacon, not surprised, but concerned.

Thomas: Ah, a mate. We grew up in the church together as.... Orphans. Why? What interest is he to you?

they01/18/2020

The deacon drinks from their glass, setting it down again.

Virgil: He would be valuable to my kind. If you have legal custody over hi-

The bandaged person spits out their wine, a manic energy overtaking them again as they spray the deacon with wine.

The Bandaged: Like Hell you're taking him! Virgil: -Slowly wiping their face.- . . .a poor choice of words.

The bandaged person slams a fist on the table.

The Bandaged: No, absolutely not! The joke's on you, they're not registered as my protege officially!

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas watches these two argue for a bit, thinking to himself. Able had always seemed to turn the heads of devils, but he never knew why. What was special about him that made him such a infatuation?

Thomas: I'm not in the business of souls. Besides, he cannot be so... interesting. Surely you have.... better marks for your hunts.

Thomas fills the deacon's glass, the bottle getting lower.

Thomas: He is a.... Important... Client. I'd rather you not hunt him..

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man sips more wine, sitting it back into their glass.

The Bandaged: Pfeh! Agreed! Virgil: That is not your decision to make; it is within his agency to decide what happens.

The deacon imbibes from their glass.

Virgil: I do not have any intention to hunt them, however. The Bandaged: -Drinking and spitting.- . . .phegh. . .good. Virgil: -Sipping.- It'd degrade the quality of their soul.

***

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas: Ah, a small relief. Now... Deacon....

Thomas looks at the bandaged, but seems unconcerned. He looks back at the deacon.

Thomas: I'll let you keep distributing to.... this one. Unless you want me to take him off your hands~?

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man chortles, choking on their wine half-way through their laugh.

The Bandaged: Pah! You're j- ghHFK! Oh god, it's in'h my'h throat'h! HhhK! Virgil: -Sipping.- I'd rather make sure you're still alive in. . .say, two weeks.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas sighs, almost wistfully, thinking of all the money. Then thinks about having to deal with this new man more. Perhaps the deacon would be better suited for this one.

Thomas: Mmh, perhaps you're.... right.

He leans in, gently whispering.

Thomas: He seems like a bit of a handful. Must be a pretty vintage your waiting for, mh?.

[

2:25 AM

]

Thomas looks unconcerned and moves towards the bandaged person next.

Thomas: I offer.... other services also. Clothing, food.... intimacy. You take your pick, and we'll make sure the deacon gets his shipment for you..

they01/18/2020

The bandaged person clears their throat, continuing to cough wine back into their glass.

The Bandaged: Ghhf! Hhoh god'h!

When Thomas mentions their provision of clothing, the clothing on the bandaged person suddenly flies to life; the shawl-robe wraps tightly around the bandaged person's body, the scarf curls itself tightly around the person's neck (exacerbating their choking even more), and their gloved hands rush to their hold each other. Shrieking voices echo in the dim room.

A Shawl: NO! HE IS OURS! A Pair of Gloves: YOU WILL NOT TAKE HIM! A Scarf: LEAVE! LEAVE US BE! The Bandaged: Hhkhf! I can't'h breath'hngh!.

[

2:32 AM

]

Virgil: -Drinking their cup until it's empty.- Mmh. They're fine with their clothes. Whether they want to be or not.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas: Unfortunate. Polythreme clothing.... so obsessive...

Thomas sighs, watching the clothes mildly choke the bandaged. Then moves to refill the deacons glass.

Thomas: I'll put in an order for a new bottle for you, deacon. This is too much trouble.

they01/18/2020

Virgil: I will accept that as due recompense. . .

The bandaged man untangles themselves from their clothing, shrieking.

The Bandaged: Alright, that's it! Knock it out, all of you!

The clothing goes limp, relaxing again as the bandaged man brushes themselves off.

The Bandaged: There. Calm, as you should be. Now, don't speak on my behalf, you maroon martyr. . .

The bandaged man turns towards Thomas.

The Bandaged: . . .now. I am fine with all of those. I am fine getting my goods through this devil; I don't need new clothes, as. . .made evident. . .as for my need for a confidant or concubine. . .

The bandaged man pauses, before snickering to themselves.

The Bandaged: . . .heh, well, Able is taking it fairly well. . .mmh, though perhaps another. . ? Virgil: -Sipping their sherry.- I am obligated in my position to tell you that I frown upon that.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas looks at the bandaged, raising his eyebrow.

Thomas: Oh, lovely. Then I should thank you, sir. He seems to have... opened up quite a bit due to you. A wonderful session.

He sighs, setting the sherry down.

Thomas: If only the deacon would take my offer, I even dropped the charges. Mh. Perhaps some other time.

they01/18/2020

Virgil: Consider any desire spoilt by. . .

The deacon gestures to the bandaged man.

Virgil: . . .similarly spoilt company.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas: Well, visit next week, maybe we can get an agreement? If not, I'll stick to my mate.

He stands up straight. Smoothing out his clothing.

Thomas: Now. You are all free to go..... minus Able. I have some fairly stern words to have with him.

He has that faux smile back on his face.

they01/18/2020

The deacon stands up, brushing themselves up and grabbing the remaining sherry they have left, along with the bottle of souls (now one soul lighter).

Virgil: Gladly. I will be taking my leave, and I will be returning in due time. Virgil: . . .do not disappoint, Thomas.

The bandaged man, meanwhile, slams a fist on the table.

The Bandaged: If you think I'm going to be leaving my protégé alone and vulnerable, you are damn wrong! Virgil: -Walking to the front door.- I'm inclined to tell you to not use such vocabulary by the church. The Bandaged: -Posing.- I will STAY, thank you very much!

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas opens the door for the deacon, nodding politely.

Thomas: Have a lovely night, deacon.

He looks at the bandaged.

Thomas: As for you. You may stay if you so desire. I don't think he likes prying eyes, though, so prepare yourself..

they01/18/2020

The deacon steps outside, adopting their proper demeanor again; though they have finished half a bottle of devil's sherry, they have a steadiness to their step like any sober priest.

Virgil: And a good night to you.

The deacon steps upstairs, heading up into the Neath and taking their leave. . . Meanwhile, the bandaged man muses.

The Bandaged: Oh, they don't like people watching. The Bandaged: -Lifting their arms.- Or clothing, apparently. They'd only let me inside after I had made my companions take their leave.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas shuts the door quietly, and waits a few moments before locking the door once more. He then moves in the living area, pulling out a chest from under one of the chairs, opening it to reveal some clothes. He starts undressing, rather nonchalantly, getting all the way bare for anyone who was around to see. If you looked hard enough you could see he was more squishy than lean, but still fairly thin. Freckles spotted all across his body in little patches. He seemed to lack any hair below his chin, though this looked to be more of a personal grooming situation.

Thomas: He's certainly rather.... Plain... isn't he? A good lay, but could be convinced to open up more.

Thomas puts these clothes away, and pulls out a set of comfortable clothes, a simple, purple-ish blue nightgown.

Thomas: He was always a bit closed off, even after we fled the church together.

He sighs wistfully, closing the chest, sliding it under the chair again.

Thomas: He certainly kept me waiting.... too long.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man tuts, crossing their arms; they lean against the wall of Thomas's main room, bemused.

The Bandaged: Ah, I knew it; so are you his previously denied lover, then? A future lover? A planned confidant?.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas puts on the gown, sighing.

Thomas: Perhaps. Are you going to stop me?

He grins, opening the hallway door.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man stares, a twinkle entering their eyes (at least, the sliver of their eyes peeking through their bandages.

The Bandaged: I won't allow you to stab him; I want to be his first in that. Fret not, I can do that safely. . .for the most part.

The bandaged man clears their throat.

The Bandaged: Ahem. But. . .so long as one is permitted an audience. . .then, now, I'd be more open to any manner of. . .gasp! . .indecency..

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas turns towards the bandaged man, waiting in the doorway. He looks unimpressed

Thomas: Dear, if you have time to talk, you have time to undress. Your student is waiting.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man tuts, bunching up their clothing briefly.

The Bandaged: Aw, but they want to watch too. . .mmh, but Able is always nervous about them being around. Never understood why.

The bandaged man starts pulling the shawl over themselves, their glasses getting knocked askew with the shawl.

The Bandaged: You go on ahead and, ah. . .warm them up for a bit, as it were. . .getting the clothing to. . .cooperate. . .will take a bit. . .

Even now, the clothing seems to be wrapping around them, clinging like a tightly fit suit.

.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas doesn't take another moment, accepting that as enough. He heads through the hallway and to the bedroom. Inside Able is laying on the bed, looking fairly miserable

Thomas: Aye, you better explain to me why you thought barging in was a good idea. The deacon is a very important client.

Able sits up and rushes to Thomas grabbing him by the shoulders, looking up at him.

Able: I am so sorry. I thought perhaps they would know how to behave in these settings. He... Had spoken of doing things like this in the past I..

Thomas smiles gently, grabbing Able's wrists, pulling them away. He shuts the door behind them.

Thomas: Shhh, that's enough for me. Now. Payment is due for this.... inconvenience.

Thomas guides Able to the bed, laying him down on his back. Able complies, but only because he feels especially mortified.

Able: Is that.... Devil... gone? Thomas: Yes. He's gone for the night. You don't have to worry. Relax...

Thomas is pushing up Able's top, humming to themselves, exploring under this frankly too nice jacket of his. A gift? Or something he stole? Thomas disregarded it, and found it easy to open, feeling along his chest as he leans over Able, letting his leg brush up against the young man's groin.

Thomas: You are a twat. Mh... But you can pay me back this way, mh?

Able whimpers under Thomas's now wandering hands, groping and grabbing him. He purposefully avoids his crotch, much to Able's griping.

Able: Aye... Do it... Properly won't you?

Thomas huffs.

Thomas: You aren't the one being paid, dear.

they01/18/2020

The door the bedroom suddenly jostles in place for a moment.

The Bandaged: -Muffled.- Ah, blasted. . .

The door opens up again, slamming rather harshly into the wall as the bandaged man steps into view, clothed in nothing but their bandaged; behind them, a pile of Polythremi clothing lies on the ground (though they're visibly moving and trying to look into the room).

The Bandaged: Ah, there it is. Hi, did you get his face burning yet?

The boy01/18/2020

Able almost sits up in shock, but Thomas holds him down. Able looks at the bandaged, his face even more flush than before. Thomas doesn't look up, not interested in what the bandaged has to offer.

Able: Wh-wHAT ARE YOU DOING Thomas: He's too easy to get to that state. Shh, Able, relax.

Able huffs, relaxing into the bed, but very uncomfortable. Thomas gently rubs his thigh, trying to soothe him.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man moves closer, sitting by the side of the bed; they're watching Thomas rub up on Able, quietly tittering.

The Bandaged: -Bemused.- Ah, look. . .he's twitching ev'ry time you graze him. . .cute. . .

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas holds Able down with one hand, the other, almost gracefully, unbuttoning Able's pants and exposing his member to the air. It nearly springs out, clearly even with the extra eyes, his excitement doesn't seem to lessen.

Thomas: Relax, we'll make sure you're well taken care of.

Able doesn't look very convinced, and pulls some blankets off the bed to cover his face. He didn't want to watch.

Thomas: Tsk. Some help?

Thomas looks at the bandaged, then at Able's bad attempt at hiding.

they01/18/2020

The Bandaged: . . .ohh.

The bandaged man leans over, pulling at the blankets covering Able's face, pulling on them a little to show Able's eyes.

The Bandaged: Well now, what're you doing hiding under there? I've taught you to be observant and watch. . .everything. . .haven't I?

The bandaged man pulls harder, pulling the blanket off of Able's face; they start climbing up onto the bed, moving so they're behind Able's head (such that, looking up, Able would see their bandaged torso and face staring back).

The Bandaged: We very much can't allow that, now can we?

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas looks more relieved, smiling at Able. Able groans, still trying to look away.

Thomas: Mh, we can stop at any time.

Able suddenly tries to move, but is pressed back down. He whimpers, now looking concerned.

Able: N-..! No.. Don't...

Thomas looks at the Bandaged person, a bit amused.

Thomas: So polite. You must teach him well.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man scoffs, holding a hand around Able's forehead and holding their head down as they do so.

The Bandaged: I'm an excellent teacher. He's merely a bad student. . .

The bandaged man chuckles quietly, lightly cradling Able's cheek with another hand. They speak low, chuckling quietly.

The Bandaged: . . .though, heh. . .I think he just likes being punished for his disobedience. . .

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas grins as he watches Able look even redder than before. Like a magic trick. Able doesn't say anything, just whimpers a bit. This was a very usual feeling.

Thomas: Mm, seems like it. Look at how excited you've made him.

Thomas gently puts a fingertip to Able's member, Able shuddering in response.

Thomas: What other tricks do you have?

they01/18/2020

The Bandaged: You mean he hasn't told you? How indecent, keeping information from a trusted one. . .

The bandaged man tugs at the bandages around their groin; before Able knows it, a sizeable member slowly flops out onto Able's forehead, assisted by a number of black tendrils tucking it out of the bandages. Though their work is done, the tendrils stay, slithering along Able's forehead and leaving behind a filmy mucus along his brow.

The Bandaged: . . .heh. . .did you know, he thought I was a dame?

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas looks curiously, surprised. Able just shudders, not sure what was going to happen. Was he going to be sore again?

Thomas: Able! How rude!

Thomas grabs Able's member suddenly, and Able gasps, shuddering at the contact.

Thomas: Mh, never telling me about this man's talents either! Surely you've gotten yourself a wonderful bedmate?

Able groans.

Able: Can you both, just do it normally....

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man leans forward slightly, putting pressure onto Able's face as their member pushes down along the bridge of his nose.

The Bandaged: Mmh, he's been a bit shy, y'know?

The bandaged man tugs at the bandages around their groin, letting some more tendrils slip free; they start writhing blindly, but quickly suckering onto the side of Able's face and cheeks with a quiet squelch.

The Bandaged: Sigh. . .too distrustful, that he is. . .doesn't think I can't make him take iiit. . .shame, really. . .

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas watches intensely, then takes his hand off of Able's member, moving to sit on Able's chest. Able was getting.... a very interesting view.

Thomas: Well, maybe he needs to learn by example?

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man leans in, a twinkle in their eyes (and inadvertently squishing Able between the underside of their scrotum on his forehead and the bed under his head). They push down a little harder with emphasis, their member draped over Able's nose and grazing his lips ever so lightly.

The Bandaged: Oh? . .mmh, but it's sooooo hard to find someone who'd be willing. . .

The bandaged man tugs a little more at the bandages around their groin, exposing a larger mass of tentacles (and inadvertently causing Able's entire forehead and cheekbones to be suckered on by a great many tentacles.

The Bandaged: . . .to, ah. . .accommodate.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas makes a little wistful sigh, touching a hand to the bandage's chest. Able is squirming under both of them, gripping Thomas's thighs.

Thomas: Sweetheart if you want a volunteer I'm right here.

Thomas is looking directly at the bandaged, an intense look as they themselves get more red. They bite their lip, ignoring Able for a bit before touching his hand.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man claps their hands together, chuckling as they place a hand on Thomas's shoulder.

The Bandaged: _Oh? . .mmh, well. . .you'd be an excellent model for Able to learn from. . .

The bandaged man squeezes Thomas's shoulder, moving to graze a finger along his chest as they inspect them in turn:

The Bandaged: Mh, a slightly skinnier build. . .lacking in hair, but otherwise similarly spry. . .mmh.

The bandaged man sits up, lifting their hip off of Able's face for a moment; the tentacles peeking out of their groin tense up briefly, before relaxing and oozing a filmy mucus onto Able's face (the bandaged man doesn't seem to react).

The Bandaged:, . . .mmyes, anything you can take, Able ought to take as well. . .mmh, but I need some preparations. Pardon me. . .

The bandaged man slides off of the bed, their exposed tentacles wriggling a little farther out as time passes. They start walking to the door, completely exposed(? Bandages don't count as being covered, one would think).

The Bandaged: Keep him still. I'll be back in a moment.

The boy01/18/2020

Able: G-Gh! Oh lords!

Able almost gasps, wiping his face off. Thomas looks down at him, and Able seems to struggle.

Able: I don't want my arse sore today!

Able is trying to pull Thomas off him, but he grabs the man by the wrists and presses them back.

Thomas: Shhh... You will do fine. Mh, this will be your payment. I'm losing a good amount of money because of your nonsense today.

Able looks up, and stops, he looks ashamed again.

Able: ...Apologies. Thomas: Don't worry, it's my rear on the line this time, you just have to..... ah.... observe, and learn.

Thomas leans down to kiss him on the forehead, and sits back onto his chest. Able seems to relax. Watch? That would be easy..... right?

they01/18/2020

The door opens again as the bandaged man walks back into the room, holding a capped fountain pen. The tentacles around their groin have probed outwards much farther, reaching half-way down their thighs; if they've noticed, they make no acknowledgement of it.

The Bandaged: Mmh, I'm back.~

The bandaged man clambers back onto the bed, resuming their seated position on top of Able's forehead; the tentacles part, suckering onto the side of their face and now barely reaching to the underside of his jaw as they wrap around. They uncap their pen, a Violant ink sheening on the metal tip; they reach over to Thomas's sides, pulling them forward (and inadvertently(?) forcing them to sit on Able's upper chest).

The Bandaged: I hope you don't mind if I write some, ah. . .redundant protection on your body. Just in case. Just in case.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas glances at the pen, allowing themselves to be moved.

Thomas: mmmm, of course, darling..

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man leans forward, gripping Thomas's sides to steady them as they move; they shift forward, the underside of their scrotum and taint covering the very tip and bridge of Able's nose. The bandaged man lightly writes on Thomas, the pen writing on the section of skin right next to their belly button; though they don't feel anything wet like ink running on them, they feel a strange warmth as they smear Violant ink in strange script. . .

The Bandaged: . . ."the. . .strength of. . .a pain forgotten". . .

The bandaged man finishes up their writing, encircling it; the patch of scripture on Thomas's body suddenly flares up in warmth (like feeling the side of a glass candle that's been lit for a while), before lowering to a steady, dull warmth. Afterwards, the person lifts themselves up, leaving Able's face lightly coated in a sticky clear sludge as they move behind Thomas on the bed.

The Bandaged: . . .ah, there we go. Now, lie down; and make sure our, ah, audience doesn't look away..

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas lays on top of Able, gently kissing them on the forehead.

Thomas: Of course..~

Able looks even more red, and a little relieved not to be covered in tentacles. Thomas cups Able's face in his hands, grinning.

Thomas: Enjoy the show, dear.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man moves behind Thomas, grabbing their sides from behind; they pull on him, making him slide back while leaning onto their back.

The Bandaged: Mmh. . .get a bit more personal with him. . .he's a wriggly sort, y'know. . .

The bandaged man pushes forward, making Thomas lower down onto Able and making them propped up just above Able, making it impossible for Able to escape (though not for him to wriggle).

The Bandaged: Mmh, make sure he pays attention. . .

The bandaged man slumps forward onto Thomas's back; along his rear, he can feel a wet writhing of tendrils feeling up along his cheeks and running along the crack of his entrance, suckering on lightly occasionally but otherwise blindly wriggling.

.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas is a bit surprised at how rough they are, but seem to only push back into them. He hums, happily being moved around. Able whimpers, looking up at Thomas a bit concerned.

Able: You.... can.... take this right? Thomas: mm? Oh dear I've had much more, don't you worry.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man leans in, resting their weight on Thomas's back.

The Bandaged: Now, Able, pay close attention to their stomach. . .

The bandaged man humps forward lightly; immediately, Thomas can feel a blunt pressure before the man's member slides into them; nothing unfamiliar, but there is a writhing pressure building against them as well, squirming against the ring of their entrance.

The Bandaged: . . .it'll be informative. . .

The bandaged man pushes their hips forward, sighing; immediately, Thomas can feel their member forcing up inside of them, but they also feel themselves opening up just a bit wider as several wet tubes slide their way inside, widening them immediately and rather roughly.

The Bandaged: Mmhf. . .veryyy informative. . .~

The boy01/18/2020

Able looks down, watching, but a little confused. Thomas makes a sound, a little squeal of almost joy as they are filled up. He moans, loudly, unfiltered. Thomas holds Able's face, making sure they don't look away.

Thomas: ooohh.... mmhhf... yess.... You got more...?

Able gets red, surely Thomas was embarrassed, right?

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man titters, bemused; they wrap a hand around Thomas's chest, while their other hand presses a palm to Able's chest, pushing them down and keeping them pinned to the bed.

The Bandaged: Ooh. . .I hope you're willing to back that up. . .

The bandaged man grunts, leaning onto Thomas a bit harder; from behind, Thomas can feel the tubes suddenly thicken, swelling as they start pushing themselves deeper into Thomas. The bandaged man starts to thrust into Thomas, their member pistoning slowly while the tentacles continue probing deeper, deeper. . .

The Bandaged: . . .mmhhh, he could learn a few things from you. . .tried saying he could take it. . .didn't even get to, ah. . .explore DEEPer. . .

. . .as they stress their last word, Thomas can feel more tentacles force their way inside, eagerly suckering and making his insides feel like they're being pulled on lightly.

The boy01/18/2020

Thomas feels so full already, but knows he can take more, or specifically, craved more. He makes a loud guttural sound, pressing his groin into Able. Able is covering his mouth, a little concerned now. Is his mate ok?

Thomas: Ohhh...! gOds~... Yesss... Yes god...! mmmmf! Deeper!

Able watches with a horrified look, but also a curious one. Thomas grinds himself into Able, clearly still wailing for more.

they01/18/2020

The bandaged man leans around, lying onto Thomas's back; Able can see his face come into view besides Thomas's, a glint in their eyes.

The Bandaged: Mmh, you're so much more eager. . .mmhrr, it'd just be rude, wouldn't it Able, to deny. . .mmhh!. .what he wants, hm?

The bandaged man lifts themselves off of Thomas briefly; Able can see him tugging at the bandages on his chest, a writhing blackness squirming its way out between the gaps eagerly. They lie back onto Thomas, the tentacles suckering immediately onto his back.

The Bandaged: Mmmrrhhh. . .time to see if that sigil. . .works. . .~

The bandaged man humps their hips forward, grinding harshly into Thomas's entrance; immediately, he feels more tendrils squirming their way past the tight ring of his entrance, widening him as the man's scrotum pushes harshly against his own. Inside, he can feel a swelling sensation as the tentacles inside him start squirming deeper. . .deeper. . . . . .Thomas feels a sudden warmth on their left side, where the sigil is written, and a heavy, wet squirming pulling his stomach forward ever so slightly; his lower abdomen is lightly bulging, the vaguest of outlines squirming underneath.

The Bandaged: . . .mmhhhh. . .ahh, Able, look. . .look, look at how he's taking it. . .mmmhhh, you're gonna be taking it like that soon. . .mmhhhrrr. . ..

The boy01/18/2020

Able looks even more horrified. What was happening? Was he killing Thomas?

Able: Oh gods... are you-

Thomas looks absolutely blissful, going mildly limp. He makes the loudest moan Able's heard all night, and seems to be even harder as he limply grinds into Able.

Thomas: hhh....hhh! Yes.... Mmmf.... More~...! gOD! HELL!

Able looks confused. If he's not.... dying then... Did this really feel good? Able tried to think about how full that would feel. He whimpers into his hands.

***

The boy01/18/2020

Able whines, watching with equal parts horror and curiosity. Thomas takes Able's other hand, groaning as he makes him feel his gut.

Thomas: yesss.... feeeelll..... So much....hhhh~.... Loook....

Thomas moans, watching as Able's face change from horror to pure curiosity.

they01/18/2020

As Able touches Thomas's gut, he can feel a gentle, warm writhing going deep under the surface of Thomas's skin. Meanwhile, the bandaged man starts growling, as another pair of tendrils forces inside of Thomas and distending his anus even wider; their hands let go of Able's wrist, moving to grab at Able's ankle and roughly (but awkwardly, for obvious reasons) pulling it upwards.

The Bandaged: Mmrrrhhh. . .lift your legs back, Able. . .get yourself all exposed. . .

The bandaged man is picking up their pace, thrusting harder into Thomas as their member massages against the ring of Thomas's entrance; the tendrils, meanwhile, force themselves even deeper, the full sensation pushing itself to a place just under his ribcage. . .

January 19, 2020

The boy01/19/2020

Able just does what he's told, a little curious now. What was going to happen now? He already felt like his own need was being neglected, and needed just a bit. He spreads himself, quietly, tepidly. Thomas is meanwhile doing his best to stay up to give Able a good show, he just barely hooks his arm above his head to pull himself up by the bandaged's neck. This was a bit uncomfortable, but it made him easier to move.

Thomas: hhhg....hhggg.....mmmf~.....Look at that... You have him all trained....gghf!

they01/19/2020

The bandaged man chuckles, their voice low; one of their hands wander, moving to grab Thomas's member, pulling it to aim downwards.

The Bandaged: Mmh. . .he's not trained. . .he's like a needy dog. . .obedient if he gets something out of it. . .

The bandaged man thrusts forward and down, guiding Thomas's hip forward; his member jabs at Able's exposed entrance, and the bandaged man forces the head of Thomas's member past the tight ring of Able's anus (but nothing more).

The Bandaged: Mmh. . .make him howl, and I'll fill you up as much as you want. . .~.

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas doesn't need much more of an excuse and thrusts into Able, who yelps. It had been a while since he felt that. Tight. He was new at this. Thomas was never big, but he didn't expect such resistance.

Thomas: Oooh...~ God, you're right.... you haven't trained him....mmmf...

Thomas grabs Able's shoulders, matching his thrusts with the bandaged, groaning with the effort. Able tries to cover his mouth, but Thomas harshly grips his wrists, and bites down onto his neck, but gently, he was still new.

Able: Ggh-!

they01/19/2020

As Thomas pushes onto Able, Able can feel his stomach bulging outwards and pushing into his gut lightly as the bandaged man coos.

The Bandaged: Mmhh, we ought'a break him in, shouldn't we? . .mmrrh!

The bandaged man thrusts forward, and Thomas can feel another tentacle roughly slide in and bulge his stomach forward suddenly, the bulge pressing hard into Able for a few seconds before the tentacle relaxes and wriggles inside Thomas's insides.

The Bandaged: . . .mhh, we could just break him, but. . .mmhh. . .we should have our fun with him first, hmm? . .mmmhhhhh. . .~

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas moves to press his forehead against Able's, groaning into him with each and every thrust. Able can feel that fire again, god what was that? He whimpers, not wanting Thomas of all people to hear his indecent sounds

Thomas: Oh indeed....hhhf...! Let's hear it, sweetheart. mmmf! ....gggf! You want your mate to know....mmmf! Just how much you want this.....mmm...~ too, hmmm?

Able gasps as Thomas slams into Able, positioning himself in a way he knew would hit that little spot. Able almost loses his composure, but stifles his moan halfway.

Thomas: Hmm... mmm... Don't be like thaaaat....

Thomas leans forward to kiss Able, cutting off any complaints. Able nearly instantly complies, moaning into the young man's mouth as he explores them deeper. He stays there for a while. Too long. Able feels himself in need to breathe, his ass still being railed on by Thomas. He pushes up Thomas with an effortless strength. Thomas smirks, ah, so he could get out if he wanted. Able gasps, unable to stop his moaning as he takes ragged breaths.

Thomas: thereeee we gooo... mmmmf...~

they01/19/2020

The bandaged man snickers behind Thomas, leaning forward; with every moan Able makes, Thomas can feel another tendril forcing their way inside, and Able can see another wriggling sensation pushing out of Thomas's gut into his own stomach; the bulge in Thomas's stomach is now very noticeable, the skin visibly warping as the outlines of tendrils coil and roll underneath. The bandaged man moves a hand under Able's head, lifting him towards Thomas.

The Bandaged: Yeah. . .mmhh, kiss him more. . .mmhhyeahhh, I wanna see you two explore each other's mouths. . .mmhhh. . .

The bandaged man chuckles in a low voice; below, Thomas can feel a slight wetness surround his member, and Able can feel a slick, wet prodding at his anus. A single slim, black tendril is wrapping itself around Thomas's member, slithering its way along whatever is exposed before pressing lightly at the ring of Able's entrance.

The Bandaged: Rrhh. . .c'mon, push forward, freckles. . .I'm gonna get in him too. . .

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas gasps a bit in surprise, but seems to enjoy it a lot, his member twitching with excitement on the tentacle.

Thomas: ooohhh~ Yes sir~

Able let's Thomas go back to kissing him, but taking little breaks in between getting really deep into each other's mouths. Thomas harshly thrusts into Able, who whimpers, but seems more comfortable if he's muffled.

Able: mmrf....mmmf...!

they01/19/2020

The bandaged man thrusts forward, cooing into Thomas's and Able's ears; they're planting kisses, mainly on Able's cheeks, but occasionally on the side of Thomas's neck, lightly moaning as they do so.

The Bandaged: Mmhhh. . .good. . .hhrrrRFF!~

Able feels the ring of their anus distend slightly as the wet tendril pushing against him buries itself inside of him; inside, the tendril wraps around Thomas's member, coiling around and rubbing against Able's inner walls while the tendril massages and suckers on the head of Thomas's member. The bandaged man seems to get into a rut once that tendril pushes into Able; they start thrusting harder, the tendrils inside of Thomas and Able throbbing and relaxing in a regular cycle as they start building

The Bandaged: Ahh. . .mmf! There we go. . .yeahhh. . .

The bandaged man pushes on the back of Thomas's head and hefts their weight onto him, forcing both of them to be pushing hard onto Able; Able feels pressure on all sides (the bed behind him, Thomas and Able on top of him, and a throbbing tendril and cock inside him).

The Bandaged: Mmhhff. . .mmhh, yeah. . .get in him real good! . .mmhhf! . .make him moan into you . .I wanna see him plead, yeahhh! . .oouughh. . !

[

1:00 AM

]

The bandaged man thrusts harder, harder. . ! . .Thomas can feel the sigil written on their side flare up, the warmth spreading straight through the core of their body; internally, they can feel the massive quantity of tendrils throb once, twice. . .their insides are slowly becoming fuller yet, the outlines on their gut smoothening out as fluid and familiarly smooth amber spheres pump into Thomas. Inside Able, Thomas can feel the black tendril swell around his cock, tightening its grip as it spews fluid. . . Meanwhile, Able can feel Thomas's gut smoothen out, putting immense pressure on his own abdomen; internally, he can feel the tendril inside of him throb, before spewing out a warm fluid into his insides; it feels like his previous session, only with more fluid. . .that is, until he feels a sudden solid ball force into his insides, pushing very noticeably on his insides and standing out from the simple warmth of the fluid sloshing around. Then, another; then, yet another. . .

The Bandaged: Hhmf! . .oouughhhhyyeahhhh. . .mmmhhhh, hope you like. . .mmhh. . .amber. . .hmmmmyyeahhhh. . ..

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas gasps, thrusting harder and harder into Able, who seems to be even more flush than the last time he checked. He slams into Able, breaking their kiss to let him moan obscenely. Thomas grinned. That was the reaction he wanted. Able tensed, his member twitching before he was coating both him and Thomas in his fluids. Such a small amount, Thomas noted. A little disappointing, but Able is suddenly relaxed and he can now go at him. Thrusting harder and quicker before his own release comes, oh so gently filling that boy. Thomas and Able then feel the warmth, it was growing, it was a lot. Thomas squirms, excited. He knew this feeling. Thomas lets out a loud, guttural moan as he feels the amber take all the space up in his guts. Able looks more confused, then concerned. What was happening? Able gasps with each ball of amber, holding Thomas, confused and a bit worried.

Thomas: mmmrrr.......mhhhh.... yessss....~ Able: A-Ah...! Wha t?

they01/19/2020

The bandaged man groans, the tendrils inside of Thomas and Able slowly relaxing; they drop all their weight onto Thomas's back, the tentacles inside him slowly withdrawing (and tugging on his insides inadvertently as they retreat); meanwhile, the tendril inside Able lingers, slowly coiling down Thomas's member and tugging on Able's insides lightly as its suckers disengage wetly from his inner walls.

The Bandaged: Mmhhh. . .hhmmmm. . .~

The bandaged man lies passively on Thomas's back, his head resting on his shoulder.

The Bandaged: . . .mh? . .hh. . .looks like you two had. . .mmhhfun. . .

The boy01/19/2020

Thomas sighs, holding Able. Able looks very concerned.

Able: Are....you ok? Thomas: Mh..? Yes. Let me enjoy this for a bit, dear. You have a..... Wonderful.... Teacher.

Able still looks worried, and wraps his arms around Thomas. He wasn't entirely convinced. He looks at the Bandaged, but then looks away, pressing his face into Thomas's hair, sighing.

they01/19/2020

The bandaged man sinks onto Thomas, wrapping their arms around to hold Able and leaving Thomas sandwiched in the middle.

The Bandaged: Mmh, good to know at least one person can recognize my. . .brilliance. . .

The bandaged man brushes Able's back, a sparkle in their eyes.

The Bandaged: I hope you were paying attention. . .you're gonna be on the other end of that. . .eventually. . .~

The bandaged man lays their head on Thomas's shoulder.

The Bandaged: . . .mhh. . .the mark should disappear soon. . .feel free to ah. . .get some use out of it while it stays. . ..