Work Text:
You’ve been working at a local gas station for a few months now. It’s summer, and you’re saving up for gas money to use when you go back to university in the fall.
You don’t hate your job- but it definitely has its downsides. It’s pretty boring, and once and awhile you have to deal with rude customers, people passing through who don’t care to be kind to a minimum wage worker.
But the real problem is that you think you’re being stalked.
A tall guy with long curly black hair is always on the bus at the same time as you. You always feel eyes on you, and when you look around, his head suddenly turns away. It makes you feel judged, and more importantly- in danger.
You’ve begun to carry a knife with you. A pretty one in fact. You’ll use it if he gets too close.
Working the night shift, you finish up by restocking some candy. Another coworker mans the desk while you do.
You hear someone come down the aisle you’re in.
It’s that man from the bus…
“Hi.”.
“Uh, hi. Can I help you?”.
“What’s your name?”.
“[You].” you point to your name tag on your chest.
His eyes look down to your name tag, then back up to you.
“That’s definitely a name I’ve heard before.”.
Okay…
“Mine’s-”. He pauses.
He laughs a little, “You can call me John Doe.”.
“Okay…”.
“Are you doing anything after work?”.
“Er- no. Why do you ask?”.
He doesn’t answer. Instead he just nods, and leaves with his head down, his hair covering his face when he turns away from you.
…weird.
You punch out, and another coworker comes to cover the AM shift. You get on the bus, and head home.
Putting your bag in your room (the loft) you head back downstairs to grab some food from the kitchen.
You head for your fridge- but stop in your tracks when something catches your eye.
A bloody heap of flesh sits on a plate. On your counter.
Your breath is taken from your lungs, and you back up. It looks to be a heart, along with its outer tendons and ventricles.
Your immediate thought is to scan the area- no one’s in the kitchen with you- but there’s still the rest of the apartment.
You turn your attention back to the bloody mass of muscle sitting on your counter. Who and why cross your mind but you come up with no answers.
You move your hand and grab a knife without taking your eyes off the heart. Who’s heart is that? There’s no blood trail from it- someone was being clean.
You don’t have a house phone- only your cell phone, but it’s in your bag upstairs. You peek out from in your kitchen out to the living room and the doorway. No one there.
You slowly creep out, and look at the stairs up to your room. No one there.
You step out into the living room, and find no one around your couch, by your bookshelves or the TV. You creep around the couch and look into the dark bathroom. The shower curtain is open and your bathroom looks to be empty.
Your head slowly turns to the loft. You make your way to the stairs, and scope out your room.
You reach the top of the stairs, and relax your arms. No one is up here either. You check your closet, and there’s no one there either.
They must have left. You feel a pit of black sorrow pool inside of your gut. You just want to be left alone. It is the only way you can keep yourself safe from the pain people bring.
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You lay sleeping soundly under warm blankets. Black surrounds you, all light in your apartment is put out.
You lie on your back, your stomach rising and falling beneath the covers, your head cradled by your soft pillow.
After a while, you feel something tickly. But it’s warm, so you don’t stir too much. After a while you feel something spreading your legs.
It slides your panties off, being careful not to wake you. Spreading your legs a little, it slides up beneath your covers and goes headfirst between your legs.
They place a pillow beneath their chest and sit their mouth in front of your sex. They spread your thighs apart, and begin to delicately lick you. They taste some sweat, and more importantly, your flesh. Their head begins to buzz as they satisfy their craving.
You begin to twitch, making soft sounds when you feel something warm and slick against your vulva. This is your home, and you should be safe here, so you don’t panic, instead you remain asleep, your body telling your brain everything is alright.
They find her clit. They begin to gently lick at it, up and down. At this point they can feel the hair around, their face buried in this woman’s genitals.
The sleeping woman begins to whimper. A sign he’s doing well. Her sex is twitching and her thighs want to clamp his face in between them. He keeps sucking at her flesh, his tongue lapping into her once and awhile. He works his mouth harder until she shakes and cums with little ‘uhs’ and sighs.
He licks and sucks gently through her squirming, until she begins to inch away from him, becoming raw and overstimulated.
He lays there with her until she slips back into full unconsciousness, his head resting against her thighs, leaving kisses on her front and little marks on the meat of her inner thighs.
He slowly slides back out from under the blankets, and tucks her back in, making her snug under the covers. He leaves quietly, making sure to lock her door from the outside. He takes her panties with him.
He leaves for a bit before coming back to her area, and watches her apartment from afar from dawn into midday.
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You wake feeling strangely satisfied. You move slightly, and jump when you recognize that you’re bare from the waist down. You shake, palming at yourself trying to understand what happened. You don’t feel as if you’ve been penetrated, but something has been done to you.
… you’re deliciously tender.
You shower and find a few hickies on the inside of your thighs.
You search your whole apartment up and down, but don’t find anyone or anything. You also don’t find your underwear. You wash your sheets and get a bolt for your door.
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