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Elliot Builder.
The Golden boy. The one who carries an entire pizzeria partially by himself and lives on his own without his parents aid. Many people know Elliot for his smile or pizza, his sister Mia knows him for his good hugs and his father knows him for his reliability. But there’s one thing nobody knows that Elliot has kept hidden.
He has a stalker.
It’s not his first rodeo with something related, parasocial relationships — especially between the regulars simply come with his job. He’s learned to let them down easy and keep it at that. Of course he’s had some…secret admirers, but never like this. When he first figured it out — finding notes around his house and gifts on his bed, he was terrified, someone was getting in his apartment, and he didn’t know how. He changed the locks, closed the windows, and even installed cameras.
But his stalker was like a shadow. It didn’t matter what he did. They just kept getting in. Elliot considered going to the police…but he knew because of his status it wouldn’t be kept hush hush. His father didn’t need some stalking scandal to worry about. Admins knows he was already too busy as it is. And his sister, his poor sister, she was already…anxious as it is. He didn’t need her worrying about him, hell, it was his job to worry about her.
He attempted to ignore them, shoving the gifts in the closet, but god was it hard, his curiosity got the better of him. He knew he shouldn’t be encouraging it…but he just couldn’t help himself. He opened every gift: a new book bag to replace his torn one, a book Elliot had been eyeing but never had the time to buy, a new upgraded and unused pizza cutter that made his life ten times easier, and finally a new nametag. His old one had…well…been on it’s last limb for quite awhile. When you move as much as Elliot does, stuff starts to fall apart.
It would be suck to let all the stuff go to waste, especially when he needed the items in his everyday life. So begrudgingly, he used that backpack, replaced his name tag, put that pizza cutter to work and read that book on his small and often rare breaks. That only seemed to please his stalker, because one day he came home to dinner already cooked in his home and groceries in his fridge. Anyone else would’ve immediately called the cops, but Elliot was so tired he simply ate the meal, drunk some lemonade and passed out on his bed in his work clothes.
So why exactly did he wake up in his pajamas the next morning?
He knew exactly why, but he refused to acknowledge that he was dressed in clean clothes by his own stalker. Elliot was becoming too comfortable with them, eating the food they made and indulging in the tiny gifts they left him. But what else could he do? Who could he tell? If he had a stalker who was here to stay, he might as well take advantage of it.
Nonetheless, they were getting more and more bold, more and more prominent with their affections. They cleaned his apartment, followed him home from the pizzeria, and left him square polaroid photos of himself working at the pizzeria. How this person had the time — the skills — the money — Elliot didn’t know. And part of it…scared him.
It was…scary…but in some sick way…flattering? He’d never seen someone put in some much work for him…it made him feel…seen. Elliot knew it was insane, but he couldn’t help but look forward to going home, just to see what his stalker would leave for him. They even knew he liked bunnies! How could anyone but his family and friends know that? Elliot didn’t exactly blabber off things about his social life to anybody.
One day on his very rare break during a particularly slow day (it was storming outside), Elliot got a strange message on his phone.
‘Unknown Message: I love it when you wear your hair up like that.’
Elliot knew exactly who it was. How they got his phone number? That was beyond him. But compared to everything else they did, this was less scary and invasive. Elliot labeled them “Stalker” in his phone. There was no use blocking them, he was sure this person had at least a dozen phone numbers on hand just for the occasion. His stalker seemed to think of everything: I mean, how on earth did they get in even after he changed his locks? It wasn’t like they could crawl through the damn vents!
Probably. Well he couldn’t disapprove that theory for sure.
Then, like clockwork, Elliot received a photo of himself looking down at his phone?! He jolted, looking around, but there weren’t any signs of anyone or anything - someone had to be here…He searched and searched, but like usual, he turned up with nothing. No traces of a person, not even in the position the photo was taken. Elliot sighed, giving up his search, he’d long given up on ever finding the person who stalked him. They were too quick, too hidden, too…well smart at what they did. At least by Elliot’s standards. After work ended, he closed up the pizzeria and walked home. Thunder flashed through the sky as he walked, the wind blowing on his umbrella, the rain beating heavy around it. He could barely see anything.
When he finally made his way to train station to take the train home, an unfortunate truth was waiting for him. The train had been delayed by hours, unhappy customers cursed around him, also disgruntled by the news. He couldn’t call a cab, not in his weather, he…had no way to get home. It was too…bad outside for his scooter. Elliot considered asking his Dad to pick him up but decided against it, the man was probably tired from a long day of business work, Elliot didn’t want to bother him.
His phone vibrated.
‘Stalker: I can take you home.’
Elliot was smarter than that. That was how people get kidnapped, he was sure of it! But his curiosity bubbled over his rational decisions, he wanted to know what that undeniable presence in his life looked like. He sighed, this was a bad idea, an awful one at best…but it sure as hell didn’t stop Elliot from texting his stalker back.
‘You: Where should I meet you?’
‘Stalker: Outside the train station. I’ll pull up to the front.’
Elliot left the train station and sure enough. There was a black truck in front. Could they be any more suspicious? Elliot considered bolting, but there was no way he’d make it back in one piece to his house in this weather on foot. Elliot opened the passenger side door, wrapping his umbrella and sitting in the truck. He immediately looked over to the driver side and god — they did not look how Elliot imagined they would. They had long spiky black hair, gray skin and…what looked like cat or fox ears. They wore long dark gray robes and Elliot briefly wondered the reason for their choice of outfit.
“Uhm…Hi…I never caught your name.” Elliot spoke carefully, he wanted as much information as possible, but he had to be more casual about it — use his customer service charm — but he wondered if the other saw right through it.
“Twotime.” They spoke, their voice sending shivers down Elliot’s spine, “Do you want me to cook for you tonight?”
Right.
This was his stalker.
In their twisted little mind, them and Elliot have probably “met” before. They should stay over, just to see if Elliot could weasel anymore information out of them. Maybe if he knew his stalker as a person then they’d seem less…daunting to him.
“Yes, you should stay over.” Elliot settled on, “I never get to…well….talk to you.”
“Normally you’re so tired, I never want to bother you.” Twotime shrugged, their eyes on the road. Elliot blinked, he… appeciated the sentiment, even if it was coming from the brain of a deranged stalker.
“I get…lonely sometimes. It’s nice to talk.” Elliot responded softly, it was the truth. After a long day of working, nobody really stuck around to talk to him.
“I should’ve been more considerate of that…” Twotime muttered, “Of course you’d want to talk to your partner.”
Partner? Elliot almost gasped. They thought the two of them were in some type of relationship? He tried not to show his shock, simply nodding along. Twotime pulled up to his apartment building, they both got out of the car, the weather was slowly but surely clearing up. Elliot didn’t need to lead Twotime to his apartment, they already knew the way. Elliot unlocks the door and they both step in. Immediately Twotime starts cooking, analyzing the fridge and pantry for ingredients before settling on a dish. They move around Elliot’s kitchen like they’re used to it - probably because they are.
“So Twotime, where do you…work?” Elliot asks, attempting to stay casual.
“Dog shelter. I own it. The Spawn has gratuitously allowed us to stay in business for a few years.” Twotime hummed, stirring the noodles, “I train dogs to become service dogs.”
Elliot perked up in surprise, ignoring the mention of that…god…at least Elliot thought they were mentioning a god, “You work with dogs?” He asks.
Elliot can kind of see it. Twotime seems like the reliable type, someone who wouldn’t give up on something or someone the second things get rough. Dogs definitely needed that sort of…dedication.
“Yep, it’s a fun job, if you don’t mind the dog hair.” Twotime smiled. “I always wanted to work with animals. The Spawn guided me down a road that was perfect for me.”
“Thats…sweet.” Elliot breathes — because truthfully — it is pretty sweet that Twotime likes their job. “Anyways, thank you for taking me here…I hope I can repay you one day—“ Elliot starts, that dreadful people pleaser in him making him thank Twotime.
“You can, now.” Twotime says, turning the stove down on low, “I just want…to touch you. If the Spawn would be so generous to allow it.”
“T-touch me?” Elliot sputtered, “Where?”
“Just in general.” Twotime shrugs, seeming to purposefully not be specific.
“I mean…I—I guess? Go ahead?” Elliot says, curiously getting the better of him. Immediately Twotime hugs him tightly, burying their face in the crook of his shoulder. Twotime breathes him in deep, seeming like they were in heaven. Elliot refused to acknowledge how the touch felt…good. A nice hug after a long tiring day didn’t seem so bad — so why couldn’t Twotime just say that?
Then Elliot felt them grab his waist.
Freak.
“You’re real touchy there…” Elliot breathes, feeling Twotime hands drift lower. For some reason he can’t explain, he doesn’t pull away from Twotime. How long has it been since he’s been…well…touched like this?
“You’re soft. Very soft.” Twotime mumbles, squeezing his hips. Elliot shudders softly, leaning into the touch. He can’t believe he’s this touched starved to the point that he’s letting a complete stranger do this to him…
“Can I touch you more?” Twotime practically begs him.
“You know what…s-sure.” Elliot nods, too enthralled by the touch to even care anymore. Twotime’s hands slide up his shirt, right over his stomach. He shivers, Twotime’s hands are cold. Twotime suddenly retracts their hands and pulls Elliot to the couch. Elliot simply allows it, because he’s gone too far to turn back now. Elliot decides he deserves to touch Twotime too, his hands sliding up their arms. This is quickly going much farther than pure platonic touching.
But why did he ever expect the stalker who believes they’re somehow dating to keep anything platonic?
“We should…We should go to my room.” Elliot squeaks out, feeling a bit breathless as Twotime’s hands inch between his thighs. They’ve definitely crossed platonic territory. Twotime nods after turning off the stove and leads a stumbling Elliot to his bedroom. His face is flushed and he’s not sure exactly how far this will go. Part of him is a bit scared, the other part however is aroused beyond belief.
He can’t be that desperate….can he?
Oh god.
He is this desperate.
Desperate for Twotime’s touch.
In his defense it’s been…awhile since he’s done this. He remembers the days of being a rowdy highschooler and settling with no strings attached, but that era ended the second he became an adult with bills to pay.
Twotime sits him on the bed, pulling off articles of clothing with the same care they tended to everything else, diligently and eerily slow. Elliot decides if they’re gonna undress him that it’s only far if he undresses them too. Layers of peeling back clothing reveal deep manic scars like no other, Elliot tries not to gawk, but the sheer number of self inflicted scars makes him gasp. He runs a hand down Twotime’s arm, feeling the scar tissue. Twotime watches him like a crow. Elliot makes a note to ask about it later, it’s a can of worms he doesn’t want to open while feeling so aroused.
Elliot leans over and shuffles through the drawer…a hair tie…candy…a note from Mia…finally a bag. He looked through it, pulling out a bottle of lube. Elliot received it as a gag gift years ago from a highschool friend, they both knew at the tome he’d be too embarrassed to ever buy something like that in person. Twotime takes it gingerly, pulling down Elliot’s boxers. Instead of silding one finger in to test the waters, they curiously slide in two.
“God that…s-stings!” Elliot whines, squirming uncomfortably. Sure if had more free time in his life he would’ve explored his body a bit more, but unfortunately, with running the pizzeria and balancing his family on his shoulders, he’s never really had the time to explore since his teenage years.
God how long has it been? It have to have been years.
Elliot can’t get past that part. He vaguely wonders if this will become more common in the future.
Twotime looks at him — really looks at him — and their stare of absolute devotion makes Elliot mildly uncomfortable, it’s like they’re peering into his soul and analyzing it. Hell, It’s almost like they were trying to take a picture with their mind. Perhaps thats why they were obsessively absorbing every detail they could. Twotime pulls their fingers out, squirting more lube on them and trying again.
Thankfully, the second time it doesn’t hurt as much, but it’s more uncomfortable than anything. Twotime continues to stretch him out, Elliot doesn’t feel a tingle of pressure until Twotime inserts the third finger. The pleasure catches him off guard and he almost chokes on his own saliva. Elliot barely lets out a gasp, but Twotime notices, because of course they do. They cock their head to the side like a dog, their fox-like ears twitching, and they hit that spot again. Elliot jolts, body feeling like it’s on fire as his muscles tense up.
“Again.” Elliot pleads, although it doesn’t take much convincing on Twotime’s part. Twotime leans in, burying their face in Elliot’s neck.
“You smell so good…” Twotime huffs, Elliot chokes as Twotime curls their fingers. His cunt can’t help but twitch around their lithe fingers, Twotime doesn’t give him a break, fingers diving in and out of Elliot. It’s like Twotime trying to make him fall apart, break under the pleasure, and god does Elliot want to just let go. He bites his lip, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. Twotime pulls out before he cum, making him whine.
“Fuck…” Elliot groans, barely able to catch his breath before Twotime pulls down their own pants. Elliot perks up curiously, leaning forward and pulling off Twotime’s boxers. A thin white cock greets him and it’s leaking a thin line of pre-cum. No wonder Twotime was staring like that, for some weird reason: Elliot never considered they’d be aroused too.
Twotime crawls between Elliot’s legs, they position their cock at Elliot’s (admittedly wet) entrance. They don’t immediately push in, rubbing their cock against Elliot’s silck. Elliot absolutely hates that it makes him flush, couldn’t they just use the lube? Elliot squeaks as they feel Twotime slowly enter them, his muscles tense and he clenches around them. Twotime whispers to him, telling him it’s okay. But Elliot can’t help but be a bit nervous. Finally, Twotime pushes all the way in. Instead of it hurting a lot like Elliot expected, he just feels…full, stretched to the brim.
Twotime looks like their about to faint, their eyes closed in pure bliss as they rock their hips inside Elliot. Their hands come to join Elliot’s as they open their eyes.
“The Spawn blessed me with you.” They breath out, Elliot’s about to question them when Twotime pulls out and slams back into him. Elliot’s brain goes blank, a jolt of pleasure pooling in his stomach, he lets out a choked moan, scrambling to hold onto the sheets. Twotime doesn’t give him anytime to recover, simply slamming into him like a rabid beast.
“IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.” Twotime babbles out, over and over again like a broken record. Their hips never stop slamming into him, eagerly drinking up every twitch, every moan, every time Elliot whimpers their name. They drool slightly, leaning in and kissing Elliot. Elliot moans in shock. Twotime pins them to the bed with their body, Elliot couldn’t move if he wanted too.
Did he want too? He didn’t know.
“Thankyouthankyou—” Twotime whines, Elliot’s too dazed and fucked out at this point to consider who they might be thanking. “May the Spawn bless us with a child!” Twotime grunts, speeding up, “You’ll make such a wonderful father! Oh thank you Spawn for blessing me—“
Elliot practically screams as Twotime cums inside of them, pushing as deep as they can and filling him up. The warmth of their seed makes Elliot cum around their cock. His cunt pulsing rapidly. Finally, Twotime pulls out, letting their cum leak from inside Elliot. Twotime untangles themselves from Elliot, running to the bathroom. They come back with a warm rag and clean up Elliot the best they can. Elliot just yawns, suddenly missing the warmth of Twotime’s body.
Luckily for him, Twotime crawls in next to him, wrapping their arms around Elliot. Elliot buries their face in Twotime’s chest, the sleepiness getting to him. They both fall asleep snuggled in Elliot’s bed.
Were they forgetting something?