Chapter Text
“I told you I’m not much of a drinker.” Ford sighed though he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. Shaking his head as he looked over the table that floated in front of him. He’d been learning how to control his mindscape over time. To manifest his imagination freely. It took some practice but was quite fun. He was still trying to decide on a game to play. Bill’s offers of cosmic beer pong, karaoke, and charades didn’t sound like Ford’s idea of a good night.
That said who was he to complain really? Bill could be quite persuasive and surprisingly entertaining. Sometimes it felt like Ford’s muse knew him better than he knew himself.
“Oh, you’ll change your tune once ya see where this takes ya.” Bill trilled confidently. Agressively shaking up his concoction in a golden co*cktail shaker.
Ford had been watching him out of the corner of his eye as the quirky little triangle summoned up all manner of strang ingredients. Some looked beautiful like stardust and unicorn tears, others more questionable. He was sure Bill added a ground-up rat tail and what looked like human hair with a bit of skin still attached. Possibly from a cadaver.
Ford snapped his fingers and smiled triumphantly as the table in front of him filled up with dice and paper. “Ah-ha! Got it!” He’d been trying to generate a full DDAMD set but it was difficult to manifest something so complex and precise. Lots of small pieces and details. He picked up one of the character sheets and beamed when he saw all the details written down correctly. Writing clearly could be surprisingly difficult in his dreams.
Bill suddenly swept a disproportionately large hand across the table and sent everything flying. Dice and paper all dissolving into faint blue dust scattered the nonexistent winds.
“Hey!” Ford whined in frustration.
Bill smacked a red solo cup down on the table in front of him. “Come on Sixer. You wanna play with dungeons I can do you one better than any ole board game.” Bill reasoned.
“I know.” Ford grumbled, a bit disappointed. Opening his hand and allowing the character sheet to dissolve into nothingness. “I’m still practicing lucid dreaming is all-”
“And ya did good.” Bill interrupted. “But tonight it’s your birthday and we’re celebrating like gods.” He announced. Holding up his own cup as a toast.
“If you say so.” Ford replied. He picked up his drink and eyed it skeptically. Swirling about the glittering purple liquid. It smelled a bit like a lunar eclipse. Not that Ford was sure how to describe the smell of an astral phenomenon. Or even how he knew what it smelled like, just that it must smell like this.
“Are you sure this is safe?” He asked Bill.
“Aw, you don’t trust me Fordsy?” Bill cooed. Floating around in a large arching circle to seat himself on Ford’s shoulder. “Would I ever lie to you?” He twirled his finger about on his face under his large smiling eye where he may have had a dimple if he were human.
Ford chuckled at Bill’s big shining puppy-dog eye and eyelash batting. “Alright, alright, one sip. Just to humor you.” He replied.
“Woo!” Bill cheered. Pumping his fist in the air and splashing his drink into his wide-open eye. Howling excitedly as his eye bulged out, exposing pulsing veins.
Ford laughed at Bill’s enthusiasm as he held the glass up to his lips. Attempting to contain his amusem*nt before he accidentally sucked alcohol down his windpipe.
“Let’s get this party started already!” Bill cheered. Grabbing Ford’s hand and knocking it back. Ford gagged and sputtered as the full co*cktail was dumped down his throat in one swift ungraceful motion. He nearly stumbled back over the edge of his armchair.
Ford’s floundering caused the seat to spin through open air. Looping upside-down then right-side up and back again as he gripped onto the thickly upholstered arms for purchase. The dreamscape spun wildly around him and morphed into a barrage of indescribable color. Ford pressed his palms into his eyes trying to steady himself. Trying to stave off the dizziness. He could taste the air. It was thick like molasses and tasted purple. His senses all blurred together and he could feel himself melting.
“What… is…” Words felt strange on Ford’s tongue. Foreign. What did he just drink?
Suddenly Ford was flying. Swung through the air by some force he didn’t recognize. He slammed against a hard surface and fell to the floor. There was a floor now. Cold and smooth like stone. When he opened his eyes he saw worn dungeon brinks under his fingers. Long dark sleeves draped from his wrists and pooled out on the floor. Dark crimson-like blood.
Ford watched utterly mesmerized as his sleeves melted into the cracks between the stone. His own form melding into the environment around him. Coiling in and out of objective distinction.
“Now where or where has my little wizard gone?” A voice echoed through the space. Ford couldn’t identify the direction. It felt like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Come out come out wherever you are.”
Ford looked around and tried to make sense of the world he found himself in. Colored shifted and shapes pulsed and coiled, but with some effort, he could make out some kind of dungeon. He pulled himself up to his feet and looked over the robe he found himself in. He could see countless eyes sewn into the fabric and staring back at him.
A flash of bright glowing red teased at Ford’s vision. He looked back up to see a massive tiered pyramid crawling through the living stone. The most solid form Ford could focus his eyes on.
Bill? He was massive. A large gaping maw with his tongue lolling out and dragging along the ground. Pulled forward by a collection of long gangly yellow arms.
“Ì̵̡̤̿ ̸̡̐̕͜f̴͎̉̋o̵̬͍͛ü̷͔̣n̵͍̄d̶̲̗͂ ̴̝̎̈́y̷̨̿ǫ̵͙̊͂u̸̗͠.” A deep distorted voice echoed in Ford’s chest. It felt like pins and needles dancing along every nerve in his body.
“Let him go you beastly brute!” A high-pitched squeal cut the dancing colors in the air to ribbons. Slicing thin sheer lines through light waves and crawling into Ford’s ears like a spider.
Ford combed his hands back through his hair. It felt so soft. Like clouds… soft. So soft… He spotted Bill in the other Bill’s hand. Normal Bill. Mostly. Small, gold, adorable. Wearing a princess dress and a tiara around the rim of his top hat.
“Go hero, save yourself.” Princess William coed.
Ford laughed as he registered what was going on. He couldn’t remember when they started playing. He couldn’t remember who his character was or how they got here or even what powers he had. None of that mattered. He knew this game like his little finger. He just needed to think. To come up with an attack, a strategy, a plan… think, think, think… Thing…… The moss on the wall was so silky. Like warm breathing velvet.Massive fangs slowly surrounded Ford on all sides. That great big lolling tongue. The wall felt like velvet.
He was holding a ball in his hand. Pitted, no ridges… mountains? Ford narrowed his eyes at the small sphere wedged in his fingers. He tried shifting his glasses to focus his vision but it helped nothing. Only when he took them off could he see clearly. Taking in all the finer details of the small planet in his hand. So small, and colorful. It flashed shadows of red and blue. Iridescent as he turned it.
He could hear screaming.
“And he shoots-” Bill cheered. Drowning out the faint sound of screaming. Ford watched as another planet whizzed past his head. Glittering flames trailed behind it like a commit as it smashed into other planets and walls of flesh and metal. Ping pong tables with toothy grins. It bounded from one object to another lighting up everything it touched and defying physics as it swirled in wild loops before landing in a red solo cup some indeterminate distance away.
“And he scores!” Bill hollered. Dooplegangers branching off from him in every direction to cheer wildly. A loud hooting and hollering crowd singing Bill’s praises. Every eye suddenly turned and Lazer focused in on Ford.
“YOUR TURN IQ.” They all chimed in unison.
Ford looked at the pocket-sized planet in his hand. Feeling the rough texture against his thumb. The moisture of oceans and clouds. He could feel things crumbling under his thumb like a wet bath bomb. A whole world in the palm of his hand.
“Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!” The crowd chanted in unison.
Ford squinted off in the distance at the red solo cup. His depth perception, completely shot. He couldn’t tell if it was moving or he was. Closer, farther, closer… He wound up his throw and attempted to time it with the best opening he could find. Flinging the little planet towards an asteroid. His whole body swung down. Spun in the air by the force of his throw. Propelled through space just like that little breathing marble. Around and around, the world grew dark, and narrow. So narrow. Smaller and smaller and smaller. Compact
Where was he? Everything was lines. Only lines. No up or down. The only way to look around was to spin in circles. He felt detached from gravity, and yet, bound. Like he was suffocated in clingwrap. Moving through the space felt like swimming through paper. All he could see was clustered of colored lines. It was hard to tell how close or far something was. He reached out for something and could see a thin dark line in front of himself. Black. He reached out with his other hand to try and touch it. Another black line. When the two connected he could feel heat and skin. Hands, hands, those were his hands.
More colored lines. One fell on his head. Ford twirled back to look up. Feeling the line in front of it and spinning it with his own. Smooth, then sharp, colores growing paler as a point receded from him, brighter as another approached. Side, lots of sides, one, two, three, four, it turned a different direction? Five, six…. It was shaped like a Tetris piece. Ford heard a loud clank as something else fell from above. The shape in his hand pushed him down. It felt heavy. As much as anything could be said to possess weight in this state anyway. He felt his back pressed against a flat surface. Another whoosh and a clack. He felt something swish past his head. It sounded like it landed behind him.
It was then Ford realized he couldn’t breathe. The screaming need for air wasn’t present. Only the natural human compulsion to breathe. He couldn’t, he didn’t know how. Another whoosh and clack. More noise. Music? E, B, C, D, C, B, A, A, C, E, D, C… The Tetris theme? Another whoosh and a clack. Ford felt the flat surface beneath him vibrate and disappear. He swiftly shoved himself out from beneath the piece above him. Allowing it to drop behind him. He was free again. Not really. He still couldn’t breathe. If there was sound there was air. He had to find it, the air. If he could just turn, turn, turn…
Watching, something watching.
Ford tried to right himself to see what eye was boring into him and felt the fabric of reality rip and tear around him.
Screaming. Pain. Euphoria. Freedom.
Bill. Massive, looming, his hands on the controls. Ford was so small. Sitting on the window frame of an arcade consul. Surrounded by broken glass. Bill smiled down at him. That mouthless smile. The glee that simmered in his eye when he was deeply impressed by one of Ford’s achievements.
“I̸̥̔ ̷͉̊a̴̢͒ḷ̸̿w̶̝̕a̴̞̅y̵̅͜s̸̲͘ ̷̂͜k̷̙̊n̷͋ͅẹ̷͗ẁ̸̪ ̸͜͠y̸̖͘o̸͓͠u̷͓͐ ̵͔̿c̵͙̿ọ̶̾ư̸̝l̵̨̾d̶̥͠ ̵̯́d̸̮̏o̶̞͑ ̸͍̾ị̵͂t̶̜͑.” Bill praised. His voice reverberated in Ford’s head. It tasted like copper, like gold, like blood. Ford pressed his hands to his head to steady himself. He felt a beat pulse in his chest. His heart, it was back again, he hadn’t noticed it had stopped, it was back. He never heard his heart before. Not like this, not so loud. Like music. It was beautiful.
“ Sweet dreams are made of these! ” The music felt amazing. Melting into his skin into his bones. He felt like warm butter spread out on toast. How wholeness barely contained within a slick black suit and black gloves that perfectly matched him down to every last fingerprint. Twelve fingers… twelve.
“ Who am I to dissagreeee! ” Ford didn’t know he could sing like this. Every beat of the song circulated through his pulse. Pulse, pulse, beat, beat, beat… f*ck his heart, it felt so goood. He could feel his heart in his chest. His body molten and reforming and swirling around it.
“ I’ve traveled the world and the seven seas. Everybody’s lookin’ for something. ” He swooned. Pressing his lips into the microphone in his hands. His own husky voice sounded melodic and sensual. Ford didn’t know he could sing like this. He probably couldn’t. He knew the band but he couldn't remember ever hearing this song before. The sound was intimately familiar and he could feel the words whispered into his soul as Bill sang along beside him.
“ Some of them want to use you .” Bill cooed. Swirling around Ford in lazy circles and coiling him up in the endless cord of his karaoke mic. Wrapping him tighter and tighter and tighter. Squeezing his barely corporeal form through the thin gaps in his electronic net.
“ Some of them want to get used by you… ” Ford purred into his mic. Staring into Bill’s eye. Sinking deeper and deeper. Sinking… slowly…warm, comforting. Metallic and liquid and solid and gas. Impossible and euphoric.
“ Some of them want to abuse you . ” Bill's voice massaged every neuron in Ford’s brain. Swirling darkness and vibrant gold light all at once, all-consuming. Stars, and space, and nothingness.
“ Some of them want to be abused… ”
The night felt like forever. Passing by in a hazy blur. Games and lights and things Ford could never have imagined. Sensations he’d never felt and never could have on his own. It was a long lazy eternity of drinking stars and floating alongside his muse in a sea of blissful madness. Beautiful, terrifying, and incredible.At some point Ford found himself sprawled out on a sofa scribbling something in his journal. He couldn’t remember if he was awake or not. This looked like his home. Apart from the pulsing walls and flashes of light and color teasing his peripheral vision. Bill was perched on the back of the sofa with another red solo cup in hand.
“Ready for another round sixer?” He offered.
Ford purred contentedly. Utterly enthralled by the vibrations in his own throat. “Hm…mmmaybe… in a minute…” He mumbled. “Drawing.” He hummed. He kept humming. Puffing up his cheeks and feeling his skin stretch. His fingers coiled like worms around his pen. He couldn’t steady his hand for sh*t but these drinks were the nectar of artisans. He smiled to himself as lazy loops and swoops made beautiful pen strokes and ink washes. He could write this entry later when he was more awake.
“You gonna take your turn already or pass?” Bill asked.
Ford lowered his journal to look back at Bill. He was holding his hat out to him with a series of little paper cards. Right, they were playing another game. What was it again? Ford let his hand fall from whatever it was he was drawing and sat up. He swung dizzily back and forth from the movement and pressed both hands to his temples. Sleep, he needed real sleep after this. Sleep and aspirin.Ford reached forward into the hat. He could never remember how their games started or when they started but in his moments of lucidity, he usually caught on quickly enough. He pulled out a small sliver of paper and did his best to read it. Where had his glasses gone? He didn’t feel them on his face. He rubbed his thumb over the line on his cheek where the lenses usually sat. His skin was so squishy. Soft and squishy. Like microwave playdough.
“Oh!” Ford laughed once he figured out what the card said. It suddenly clicked what they were playing. “This one’s easy.” He grinned drunkenly at Bill. Holding to his chest the tiny scrap of paper that merely read ME in splotchy red letters.
Ford held up both hands and touched his forefingers and thumbs together. Forming a triangular loop he positioned in front of his eye. “You gotta step up your game Sixer!” Ford trilled. Imitating Bill’s supernatural tones to the best of his capability. A decent impression if he did say so himself. He’d grown quite intimately familiar with Bill’s strange inflections.
“Nice try wise guy, but you got the angles wrong.” Bill huffed. Splashing more purple into his eye from his solo cup and straightening his hat with a huff. He crossed his legs over the back of the dusty old sofa. Propping himself up on one hand and looking slightly offended. “I’m a solid sixty, Sixer. We don’t associate with acutes.”
Ford pulled his hands away from his face and looked at his fingers. They kept warping and twisting but if he squinted he could mostly understand what Bill meant. His index fingers were longer than his thumbs, creating a fifty-degree angle up top and two sixty-fives on bottom. Must have been some sort of beauty standard from Bill’s world Ford was unaware of. Ford chuckled to himself as he processed what Bill was talking about. “Aw, don’t be like that.” He cooed. Looking back up at Bill adoringly. He looked so cute like this. Tiny and perched on his furniture like a bird. His bricks stained a faint indignant pink. “You’re beautiful my muse.” Ford purred. “Sharp angles and all.”
Bill’s eye curled into a teasing smile. He waved a hand at Ford. “Oh Fordsy.” He cooed playfully. “How could I stay mad at you.”
It was just playful banter. Just jokes. It was all just jokes. Good fun. It made Ford feel warm all over. He loved seeing Bill happy. He was such a happy little creature. Mischievous and gitty and gay.
“Alright then, my turn.” Bill reached a hand into his own dark pupil and pulled out another scrap of paper. Presumably from his hat? Maybe. He blinked a couple of times before reading what it said. “Now this just isn’t fair.”
Bill snapped his fingers and the resulting golden flash blinded Ford for a moment. Once he managed to refocus his eyes again he was greeted by a long humanoid creature in a golden suit. Seated on the sofa across from him. One arm draped over the back. Wrapped around where Ford was seated. The creature’s face had a cascade of gold that fell from a single point on his forehead and expanded out to touch the corner of each jaw. That jaw spread wide by an impossibly long toothy grin. A large all too familiar eye smiled back at Ford from the center of the creature’s face. Lidded slightly in condescending smugness.
“You can go ahead and admit defeat now.” Bill trilled.
The world around Bill was blurry and distorted but as long as Ford kept his gaze on his muse his vision was clear. Crisp, precise. Ford leaned in and rested a hand on the creature’s thigh as he examined it closely. No ears or nose, a long throat, and impossibly long four-jointed fingers drummed along the plastic of his solo cup.
It took a moment for Ford to register what Bill had said. He couldn't help but break out into a fit of laughter. “Ah! Ah-ha ha, fu-” He could tell what Bill was supposed to be. What he intended.
Bill glared at him flatly. “What, don’t like my human impression?” He challenged.
“Oh no, no-” Ford hugged his aching gut as he did his best to contain the giggles. “It’s a really good first try.” He praised sweetly. Wiping the tears from his eyes.
“What are you talkin’ about? I’m the genuine article.” Bill protested. Tossing aside his cup and gesturing to himself. “I’ve even got organs and everything. At least I think I do.” Bill reached into his mouth and past his throat. His jaw unhinged and expanding into a gaping void that greedily accepted his whole arm. It recoiled like noodle to reveal a hand full of unintelligible organ meats. Bloody and throbbing with some alien pulse.
Ford laughed even harder and recoiled in disgust. “EW, What’s wrong with you.” He snorted. Slapping Bill’s shoulder.
“What's wrong with you?" Bill countered. "Humans love organs.” He insisted. Shoving the smelly pile of viscera into Ford’s face. Surprisingly it smelled less like a lab dissection and more like gold and raw minerals. “You’re evolutionarily hard-wired to go crazy for these things.”
“Yeah, when they’re inside someone’s body.” Ford corrected. Shoving Bill’s hand away. He left his hands pressed against Bill’s wrist as he pondered his answer. “You humans are so picky.” Bill griped. His hand didn’t look like it was moving but Ford could feel it still trying to carry the organs back to his face. It took all his strength to keep the gore at arm's length.
Bill tossed the fleshy pile back into his mouth and swallowed. Ford stumbled forward when Bill moved his hand and fell into his lap. Perhaps if he was with someone else he might have moved, but he didn’t feel like it. Instead, he simply lay there a second sprawled out across Bill’s lap. His face pressed into the seat cushion beside him. Bill’s body was warm. His slacks felt less like fabric and more like skin. It was a bit uncanny but comfortingly familiar in its own way. Almost like human touch.
Ford groaned and pulled back slightly. Curling up to rest his cheek on Bill’s thigh. Rubbing his fingers lazily over the black mystery fabric. “If it’s any consolation you’re almost right.” He assured his muse. “There’s plenty of organs humans do like when they’re on the outside.”
A set of long spindly fingers slowly raked their way through Ford’s hair like a comb. Long curved nails sending a lovely tingling sensation through his scalp that made him shutter. “What are some body parts you like then?” Bill asked. His tone was thoughtful, softer than usual.
“I dunno.” Ford mumbled. He hummed thoughtfully to himself. Rubbing his cheek against Bill’s thigh. God, it felt so nice. He forgot how nice it felt to touch another person. “Skin’s kind of nice.” He breathed softly. Opening one eye to peer up at Bill as it occurred to him to amend the statement. “When it’s attached to someone that is.” He clarified. “And uhm…” He looked away again. Relaxing into Bill’s touch as he stroked his head like he was petting a cat. “Uhm, hair is nice, isssnot exactly an organ… but it’s pretty. When it’s on someone’s head. And eyes, when they’re-”
“When they’re stuck in someone’s face, ya ya, I get it Sixer ya don’t gotta spell it out for me.” Bill laughed. His laugh rumbled through his body. Ford could feel Bill's belly rattle against the back of his skull. “I’m an ageless cosmic entity, I think I know a thing or two about humans.” Bill insisted confidently.
Ford chuckled with him. Gripping Bill’s pants and breathing in the impossible scent of him. He smelled like something that shouldn’t have a smell. Like color and light and sound. “Well, I guess you understand them about as well as I do.” He joked.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Bill asked. His claws dug into Ford’s skull. He was pretty sure they were piercing skin. For some reason, it didn’t hurt.
“Don’t be offended my muse.” Ford purred. Smoothing his hand down Bill’s leg and over his knee. “It’sssnothing personal. Humans are messy and weird. I’ve never understood them very well myself.”
Bill’s grip softened and he stroked Ford’s hair again. Such a gentle gesture. So soft and intimate. He never realized just how much he missed feeling close to someone. Not that he had a lot to compare to. Vague memories of being cradled in his mother’s arms. Sharing a sweater with his twin when they were boys. He never dated much, on the rare occasion it happened it didn’t last long. He held a college mate once while he puked out his guts after a party he was reeled into attending. Ford didn’t like parties so Fidds went without him. He never went to another college party again.
Ford took a slow deep breath as he savored Bill’s touch before rolling over. Now on his back, he could look up and gaze adoringly into that window into the cosmos that sat in the center of Bill’s face. “You’re outsides look nice like this.” He praised sweetly.
Bill’s body still wasn’t quite human, but it was lovely. Slender and delicate. Warm and soft. Ford traced the contours of Bill’s face. His jawline, the layers of course golden hair that fell around his head and shoulders. The imitation of an anterior triangle divided up into blocks by seams of shimmering gold. Ford wondered what his clavicle looked like under the bowtie. Or indeed if Bill’s body continued past the clothes. If there was more underneath. An insatiable curiosity in his gut fiercely wanted to know but it felt impolite to ask.
Bill seemed a little surprised by Ford’s compliment but smiled all the same. “Is that so?” He asked. The hand that had been stroking Ford’s hair switched to petting his belly. He’d start at his sternum and run his palm down to the base of Ford's stomach before pulling back up again. Ford shivered and felt his blood run hot. Despite his layers, his clothes felt thin. Like tissue paper.
“Do you like my skin?” Bill asked.
Ford nodded. “Y-yes…” He sighed. Drowsy and breathless.
Bill leaned in a bit closer. His eye growing wider and consuming more of Ford’s vision as he did so.
“Do you like my hair?” He trilled.
Ford nodded. “It’s lovely.” He answered honestly. Soaking in every detail he could see. The whole world outside of the two of them melting into an inky dark void. Bill glowed in that darkness like a star.
“My eye?” Bill asked. Leaning in closer till all Ford could see was infinity staring back at him.
His breath caught in his chest. Awestruck by the mysteries of the universe all laid out so tantalizingly close. So close he could reach out and touch galaxies.
“I’m waiting sixer.”
“Close your eye.” Ford whispered. Utterly hypnotized by the beauty in front of him.
Bill did so. A curtain of gold and long lashes fell over that window into another world. Ford reached out a hand and placed it on Bill’s jaw. Feeling rubbery skin under his palm and tracing his thumb over the bone beneath. He pulled himself up and answered Bill with a kiss. Lightly pressing his lips against his muse's closed eye. Bill felt tender and hot against Ford's skin. The golden glow felt like static dancing along his central nervous system.
A laugh. A brief heaving sound that caused Bill’s chest to jerk back away from Ford’s. Ford fell back into Bill’s lap and one laugh turned into two, turned into a fit of mad cackling. His laugh cracked the air and cut thin little slivers into Ford’s skin. Ford curled in on himself slightly. Rubbing at his sleeve and wondering if he overstepped.
“I-I’m sorry I-”
“Close your eyes.”
Bill stopped laughing and was looking down at Ford again. His mouth had vanished. His eye consumed his whole face. Piercing gaze fixed on Ford and difficult to read. Ford swallowed and did his best to try and slow his racing heart. He folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes. He trusted Bill.
A few seconds passed. Ford could feel his heart pounding in his hands. A lingering form. He could feel Bill inch closer to him. This growing sense of presence. Then, lips. Lips, against his own. Soft, Not the rubbery consistency Ford felt when he ran his hand across Bill’s jaw. This flesh felt like suede. The tension in Ford’s body slowly unwound. Melting into plasma. Dissolving into Bill’s lap.
Ford moaned softly and reached his hands up again. Hesitantly at first, reaching for Bill’s face. When his fingers grazed Bill’s skin and his muse didn’t pull away Ford took hold of him. Leaning into his kiss. Bill’s hand returned to his stomach. This time working its way under his clothes. His sweater, buttondown, undershirt, it all gave way as long spindly fingers crept up his gut. Combing through the fluff and trailing shallow scratches up his skin. The touch was so light he couldn’t possibly have cut deep. Yet Ford felt an overwhelming liquid heat bloom out from every inch Bill touched and spread through his flesh.
Ford felt a probing tongue prod his lips for entry. He parted them obediently. Still barely registering what was happening but too lost in this feeling to question any of it. No kiss had ever felt like this before. He wanted more of it. Wrapping his arms around Bill’s neck and shoulders and pulling his weak body closer. Attempting to join his flesh. He felt Bill chuckle softly against his lips.
Ford’s eyes shot open at the sudden intrusion. Something much larger than a human tongue filled up his mouth and forced his jaw uncomfortably wide. Slithering down his throat like a snake and causing him to jerk and claw at Bill’s suit as he struggled to breathe.Bill didn’t let him pull back. Holding him tight where he was. One hand gripping him around the waist. Another holding his head in place by his hair. There were more, more hands, all over. He couldn’t move, not an inch. Only sweat and panic and gasp for air through his nose.
Once the initial shock subsided Ford was able to gain control of himself at least somewhat. Managed to breathe slowly and carefully through his nose as the strange coiling organ thrust back and forth in his throat. Massaging his throat and filling up his mouth with the taste of copper. Sharp jagged teeth clattered against his own. The heavy weight on his tongue was slick and oily. Ford whimpered and gripped Bill’s shoulders. All he could make out was the blurry glow of his hair. The rim of his hat. Ford screwed his eyes shut again and did his best to ride out this beasti*al imitation of a kiss. Bill was inside him. Ford could feel him in every cell. Overwhelming and all-consuming. Like he wasn’t himself anymore.
It felt like heaven. Like power. Like wholeness. Like he’d been empty before and now he was full. Swallowing Bill's flesh.
Ford collapsed when Bill pulled away. His head slamming back against his thigh. He felt human again. Small and breakable. Ford stared back up at Bill panting for air. He could feel the blood in his cheeks. The sweat drenching his clothes. His chest was exposed. Fabric scrunched up just below his arms. Most of Bill’s grip on his body had vanished but one hand remained lingering on his stomach. Now stroking him again. Lightly pressing his claws into the tender meat.
“I like your organs too.” Bill purred.
Ford narrowed his eyes. Processing Bill’s smile and trying to remember what he was talking about. “I… oh… Thank you.” He replied softly. Barely able to gasp out the words.
Bill leaned in closer again. His other hand petting Ford’s head. “Humans are all a bunch of unappetizing fleshy meat bags if ya ask me.” He taunted. A third hand tapped Ford’s forehead between his eyes. “But I gotta say, I love those neurons. You’ve got a real work of art in there.” He praised.
Ford felt that pride well up in his chest again. Biting his lip as he struggled not to let it show on his face. The stress of suppressing how much the compliment really meant to him caused him to break into a bought nervous laughter for a moment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He snarked back through the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Ready for another drink?" Bill offered. Sparkling purple nectar dripping from his lips.
