Polite Introductions (a smutty short) - noncon

The first version of this took me a week to pound out, and was lost due to asshattery. The second version took a few days, and I'm still not happy with it. However, I'm rusty from having been working entirely too much, so I'm going to be forgiving. Hopefully you can be the same. :3

~Marcus

Story:

Well, let's just call a spade a spade. This isn't a spade. It's tentacle rape. More or less (mostly less). This is what happens when people keep asking for more Nasr.
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The horizon was awash with vivid hues of red and orange, brilliant colors that fell off to pastel pinks and purples as night crept along the sky behind Devon. And though he was facing the sunset, he paid it little mind. Nor did he pay any mind to the silhouettes of the trees that lined the park, stabbing voids of black into the brilliant display. Nor anything that might be lurking just past the corner of his eye.

Instead Devon was staring at the toes of his shoes, and at the sand just beyond. They’d been white once, those shoes, but they were since rendered dozens of colors by virtue of marker and hours spent with nothing better to do. Devon stamped a fresh pattern of barely-there tread into the sand, and did his best to ignore the whining of the swing chain. It was especially loud in his ear, for the fact that his cheek was braced against it, but he was disinclined to move his head. He was disinclined to do anything, really, but stare at the sand and reflect upon the past hour or so of laughter.

Now, though, the laughter was gone. All of the children had gone home. To eat, to bathe, to run screaming through their homes. The small-town bums and neighborhood drug addicts had not yet migrated to the park. That wouldn’t happen until after the sun had set entirely. Maybe a little longer. No, now was the dead time. The between time. Devon’s time.

That is, until someone infringed upon it. Devon caught movement from his peripheral vision, but paid it as much attention as he did the growing chill. He dug his cheek against the hard edges of his knuckles, and sighed out heavily. It wasn’t a good sign when they came early. Meant they were edgy. Hard up for something. Devon didn’t want to leave just yet. His thoughts were distracted with too many pleasant things.

“Hey, kid.” The voice from his left was underscored with an obnoxious scree from the swingset. Skreeka, skreeka. “Y’bored?”

Devon’s eyes rolled shut. He picked his head up enough to glare past the narrow angle of his shoulder. A pair of yellowed eyes stared back at him, set above a sharply angled nose and an unsteady sort of grin. Devon grimaced. The man hadn’t even bothered with a shirt.

“M’not a kid.”

“Then whatcha at the playground for, huh? Y’after somethin’ better than swings and slides, huh? Huh?”

“Fuck no. Go away.”

Scree.

“Naaaaaaah. You look bored.”

“I’m not bored. Aren’t your sort supposed to come out after the sun has finished setting?” Devon watched as the man dug his bare feet into the sand beneath the swing and started twisting the chains to his seat one about the other.

“Nahnahnah,” the man deferred as he wound the chains tighter and tighter. “That’s vampires. Don’t y’know nothin’?”

“Know I don’t want any goddamn drugs, so you can piss the fuck off,” Devon snapped.

“Shiiiiiit,” the stranger drawled. “I know that. Don’t gotta get yer fuckin’ panties in a twist.” Up went his feet, the tattered ends of his jeans creating little hollows in the sand as the swing went unwinding swiftly. A loud, screeching cackle filled the air.

Devon nudged his toes into the sand, leaning away from the spinning. Away from the clack of the chains as they wound the other way. “Then what the fuck’re you bothering me for?”

“Cus y’look bored.” The stranger dropped backward as the swing paused, hands clutching tightly to the chains, and favored Devon with a wide, unsettling grin. The man went blurry again as the swing took back to unwinding.

“I am not bored.”

“Sure you are.” Whump, whump. The chains jolted as the swing jerked back and forth, then settled back to their annoying squeak-a-squeak. “All the little kiddies went home and there’s nobody left to play with.”

“Oh fuck off. I told you, I’m notta kid.”

“Sure ain’t,” the stranger purred, his bare toes curling through the loose sand. “Don’t mean you don’t wanna play with ‘em.”

Devon’s gut gave an uncomfortable twist. He squinted at the man, who went right on grinning. The more Devon stared at it, the more he disliked that grin. There was something about the stranger that was unsettling. Something beyond him being a dealer. Devon shoved up from his swing, stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat, and went shuffling away.

“Awww. Don’t run! We was just getting t’know each other!”

Devon glared over his shoulder and stalked off for the walkway. A pack of teenagers had congregated under the distant cone of light cast by a yellow-tinted light. Devon shouldered past them, his steps hastening for the determined slide of bare feet behind him.

“Piss off, asshole,” he called, just to make himself especially clear.

“Ooooh. So yer inta little kiddies aaand watersports. See, we’re gettin’ t’know each other better and better, ain’t we?”

Devon drew up short. He turned about, fighting the sinking feeling in his gut, a feeling that had somehow spread up his throat and into his cheeks. He fought for air that suddenly seemed very thin, and stared widely at the man who was standing dead center in the path. At the peculiar eyes, which seemed to be illuminated in the near-dark of the shaded bend.

“Oh-ho-ho. That got yer attention! Was that too much too soon? Oh yeeah, that’s right. Introductions first, yeah? M’name’s Nasr. What’s yers?”

“Devon,” he replied reflexively, then gave a sputter. “Go the fuck away, you sick cunt.”

Devon twisted over the outside of his foot, nearly stumbled, and went back to abandoning the park. Abandoning the scene of his crime, even if the crime had been in thought only. Abandoning the heavy weight of his desires, and the unnerving fact that this strung-out stranger was making guesses too close to home.

There was no further noise from behind. No rude roll of voice. No shuffling of feet. Devon did not turn for a handful of minutes, and when he did, there was nothing there. Only darkness, and the slightly darker outlines of trees above the slightly lighter swath of the trail below.

“Thank fucking God,” Devon muttered to himself. “Fucking creepy fuckers every fucking where.”

As if in answer, a strange, erratic sound bubbled from the tree line. It was very nearly a giggle, but it seemed to be coming from several different directions. The sound rolled and roiled, spilling over in the black with a growing frequency not unlike that of water boiling over in a pot.

“The fuck?” Devon turned in place, squinting at the darkness.

“That’s a good idea.” It was the creeper’s voice again, but there was no sign of the man himself.

“The fuck?”

Something was wet. Smacking weightily. The ground nearby hissed, and Devon turned reflexively. There looked to be a large, twitching serpent emerging from the nearby brush. Devon’s eyes strained in the darkness.

He didn’t hear the one that struck. Hadn’t seen a thing coming from that direction, either. A tendril lashed about his ankle and hauled abruptly, pulling his weight out from under him. Devon landed heavily on his side, one elbow jarring, and his teeth clacking hard.

Pressure slid up along the inside of his calf, creeping beneath his jeans, and then the sliding started. Slide, stop, slide, dragging him off of the path. Devon let out a startled shriek once he’d recovered his breath. He clawed at the ground, the paint on his nails chipping as he slid across gravel and into bark. The twigs and branches of the hedge scraped along the patches of exposed skin at his ankles, dug into his belly as he crashed through them feet first.

“The fucking fuck?!” Devon’s outburst edged toward the shrill.

“Hey.”

Devon pushed at the ground with his scraped palms, the dragging having finally stopped. He managed to flop himself over, though there was still a peculiar pressure about his ankle. A heat that was nearly scalding. Devon picked at his shirt, spilling mulch and dirt toward his faded, frayed jeans.

“The fuck is going o-- Are your eyes fucking glowing?”

The two golden, gleaming eyes hovering well above Devon narrowed. Definitely glowing. Devon twitched backward, struggling and kicking at whatever it was that had ahold of his leg.

“The fuck is that?! Do you have fucking attack snakes or something?!”

Nasr’s giggling bubbled over the scuffling sounds of struggle. “Attack snakes! Oh, oh. Ahaha. Ah--Ohhhh. That’s rich. That’s so fucking rich, Devy-boy. Mmmmm.”

Devon was knocked backward as his leg was hauled, one arm flailing wide. He kicked frantically at whatever had ahold of him, but his feet found little purchase. One fatter, fleshier tendril yielded beneath his heel, but it was not there on the next kick. And through it all, Nasr was giggling.

“Hey. Hey. Hey. Heyheyheyheyheyhe-”

“WHAT?!” Devon’s furious, frustrated outburst spooked a bird through the branches above his head.

“Y’smell good.”

A pair of knees thumped to either side of Devon’s waist, and he gave a grunt as Nasr’s weight fell in a straddle across the tops of his thighs. The man brought with him his own little bubble of heat, intense enough to set Devon to sweating despite the fact that his coat had rolled up about his shoulders again.

“Real fuckin’ good,” Nasr purred.

“The fucking fuck’re you? You fucking drug me when we were sitting there? Some kind of airborne shit?”

“Uh huh. S’that yer excuse for all yer shit, y’sick fuck?”

“Get off,” Devon rasped.

“Yeah yeah. That’s what you wanted to do, huh? Touching yourself in the bushes when you were watching the kiddies go down the slide.”

“I was not tou-”

Devon’s denial was cut off abruptly. There were teeth digging at his cheek. Hot, and sharp enough that they did more than bruise. They scraped shallow cuts into his skin, cuts that stung for the damp whuffle of breath that bathed them. His palms found Nasr’s bare chest, and he curled his nails into it as he shoved. He may as well have been shoving at a wall for all the man moved.

“You were thinking ‘bout it,” Nasr growled.

That was when the world shifted. Everything went black, and dark, and Devon found it hard to breathe. As though the air had been sucked out of him and sacrificed to the heat. Heat that set him sweating. The pressure of the body atop his own was gone in the next heartbeat, and Devon found himself flipped with a painful twist that ran from his ankles to his shoulders in a series of strained muscles and cringing joints.

One shoe slipped from his foot, then the other, and the heat bore down on his back. Smothering him. Threatening to burn. Except the burning turned to stinging, sliding down along his legs. Ribbons of blood rose thin and red along his skin, and he felt his jeans peel away entirely with a few uncomfortable jerks.

Still he was flailing, struggling, attempting to smack and kick at whatever had ahold of him. At Nasr himself, whose golden eyes continued to glow above him, seemingly disembodied. Devon yalped as his hand was caught and forced behind his back, shoved up along his spine. The scaled, twisted grip at his ankles shifted, tight and squeezing, rolled over his socks as the searing tendril went spiraling about his leg. Wrapped around and up. Up.

“Goddammit!” Devon all but spat the word.

Dirt scuffled up about his fingers and cheek. A small pebble dug at his knee. Devon panted and thrashed as a breeze of cool night air broke through the blanket of heat and left his skin covered in goosebumps. The creeping came up higher along the inside of his thigh, prodding and probing and wriggling about.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Goddammit. Mother-fucking fucker. Son of a bitch! Get that goddamn creepy ass shit the fuck offa me.” All the while the constriction worked its way up. The narrow tip bumped along the skin behind Devon’s balls, and he gave a renewed jerk of hips and hiss through his teeth. “Fucking perverted goddamn bullshit with your sick goddamn-- Fuck!”

The pointed probing had drifted along the crevice of Devon’s upturned ass, and pressed along the pucker of muscle there. Devon’s warmed skin went warmer still, and he gave an indignant yowl. The yowl turned into a screech, flooding through his sinuses as the thing caught and twisted about, pulling and twitching one way and then the other in a series of painful tugs.

“Aww. Wassa matter? You scared?” Nasr sounded more mocking than sympathetic. “Y’sound scared,” he encouraged in a low rasp.

“Fuck the fuck off!”

“Y’taste scared,” Nasr crooned.

Frightened out of his goddamn mind, more like, but Devon wasn’t going to argue. He wasn’t going to do anything but spit curses and thrash. His thighs were aching from straining against the hold at his ankles, and the arm pinned at his back was causing his shoulder to clench and spasm.

All of this was nothing compared to the sudden pressure from behind. The way that that spasm and tug of hooked point had eased, to replaced by an inward spearing. Devon screeched and jerked, straining one hip and threatening to dislodge his shoulder from the socket.

“Nnnh. Yep. Fuckin’ pussy. Fuckin’ scaaaaaredy cat.”

A high-pitched whimpering filled Devon’s ears, and tears ran his cheeks to wet. One socked foot tucked and dug at the ground, but the thick coils about his ankles only grew tighter for his struggling. There wasn’t the familiar relief of passing around the flared head of someone’s cock. No ease of spit or lube. Only a burning drag, and tear. The inward spearing that pressed steadily deeper, stretched him steadily wider. Had him feeling as if his ass might turn outside in. Devon choked, head turning to smother his sobbing in his elbow.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” It was his own little mantra, only shrieked at the top of his lungs and doing little to bring him any peace.

Every second was worse than the last, agonizing to a degree he hadn’t thought possible. Devon’s skin was slick with sweat, and the stink of him cloying from pain. The pressure at his ass gave abruptly, and there was a sickening, sweeping feeling that ran from the agony at his ass to the underside of his stomach. He thought he might vomit as the fat tendril withdrew, leaving him gasping, the stretched swath of tissue twitching and pulsing, still all too wide. Too loose.

But it wasn’t for long. Not long at all, with the way that invasion returned. In and deep, thrusting at an angle that left Devon screeching and howling anew. He trembled as the pressure shifted, as he was made to stretch wide about the squirming mass. The internal squirming was beyond uncomfortable, and set his gut to cramping and clenching.

Then, through the awful squelching noises, the thick, heavy panting of Devon’s breath, the simpers and whines and grunts that passed his lips in involuntary spasms, there came a more mundane sound. That of a zip falling open. Of movement above.

“Fucking asshole. Mother-fucking cocksucker.” Devon spat furiously and thrashed again, only to still as his writhing made him clench that much tighter about the unrelenting stretch of his ass. He groaned instead, low and long. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Dev. Devvy Dev Dev. Mph. Like it when ya,” Nasr broke off, and the whatever-it-was that was buried so deep within Devon retreated, and then jabbed inward. Again, and again. “Like it when ya talk dirty. Eheeheehnnnnn.”

Muscles cringed, strained, and quivered. Devon jerked and thrashed violently against the grip that wrapped his ankles and twisted one arm behind him, but he accomplished little by way of actual movement. Mostly he just seemed to make his body angrier at him. And when that tendril in his ass trembled, the hold about his limbs tightening, Devon gave another keening cry.

It felt to be hot oil that spattered over the upturned curve of his ass. It landed thick and heavy, and scalded its way toward his thigh. It spattered again along his sacrum, over the opposite cheek, burning, and continuing to do so as it seeped along.

A low, pleased groan came from the darkness above. The burning continued, but the thing spearing into him began to retreat. It slid slowly outward, as if drawn by its own gravity, and the scaled grip about his ankles sagged. Devon choked another sob into his elbow, nails working against the dirt. The thing finally let go of his arm, and it fell heavily to his side with a violent spasm of his shoulder. The damn thing felt as though it had been popped off and put on wrong. Devon cussed vehemently toward his wrist, the taste of dirt heavy on his tongue.

“Yeah,” Nasr rumbled from above. “It was good for me too.”

Nails dug at his scalp, and fingers hooked through Devon’s hair. He was made to turn his head, to blink at the sickly yellow eyes suspended in the dark. They narrowed at the corners, fixed on Devon.

“Hey, kid.” Devon could picture the man’s ghastly grin all too well, just from the tone of his voice. “Yer fun. Let’s do this again some time, huh?”

With that, the heat of the man was gone. The eyes were gone, the hold at his ankles also vanished. The cold of the night came creeping in, and the light that reflected from the sky made itself visible once again. Stars shone between the silhouettes of the trees, and the distant sounds of night birds mixed with the snuffled cries and curses that Devon hissed into his filthy sleeve.