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Here I Come (Scream Part II)

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Never in your life had you experienced anything so overwhelming.

You thought you knew what mind-numbing pleasure was. You didn’t. Mind numbing pleasure was having him inside you, grinding ruthlessly against you, holding your jaw in his hands and kissing you like it could right all the wrongs, growling into your mouth where his tongue danced with yours. His taste was all sugar and blood, and you were starving for it. One of your hands was fisted in his hair, the other (with your injured wrist) held tightly between your bodies. Your knees hooked over his hips perfectly. You fit together like puzzle pieces. You momentarily contemplated the idea that you may have been made for him, and you were surprised at how okay you were with it, before it was drowned out in your mind. Absolutely obscene noises poured from your lungs as he turned you into a melted, quivering mess. You knew he knew what he was doing to you, and you knew he loved it, and goddamnit, so did you.

He let one hand fall to your neck and close loosely around it. You heart skipped a beat or two in panic as memories of the first time came flooding back (His hand shot out as fast as a snake striking and his large, gloved hand wrapped tightly around your throat, completely cutting off your air supply. “This isn’t real enough for you?”). Pennywise cackles cruelly. “What’s wrong, [YN]? Don’t you trust me?” He let his hand fall further, cupping your breast. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your mind was so flooded with every wave of bliss, you could barely process what he was saying, much less easily formulate a reply. It may have been a solid thirty seconds before you managed to get your wits about you and look him in the eyes. “I am not afraid of you,” you said remarkably steadily, “but my god, do you scare me.”

For a split second, you could swear he looked stunned. Then he smiled. “Silly [YN]; I am your god.”

The room whirled around you and, before you knew what was happening, the back of your head cracked against the floor. Your vision went gray and your ears rang, and it was a few seconds before you could pull air back into your lungs. When sensation and perception returned, Pennywise already had you pinned to the floor. Your broken wrist burned.

Pennywise flashed a mischievous grin. “Close your eyes,” he commanded, and you complied.

You felt his hands on your legs and jumped. His hands were still pinning your wrists to the ground, but they were also lifting and opening your thighs, and then they were roughly groping your breasts through your nightgown.

Damn shapeshifters!” you said out loud, this time, and Pennywise laughed at you.

You groaned loudly and arched your back off the floor when he entered you again. Jesus fuck, you had never felt anything so good in your life. And then you wondered, shit, am I alive? Or perhaps you had died and gone to Heaven and Hell all at once. Maybe, this was your afterlife. Well, [YN], you weren’t good enough for heaven or bad enough for hell, so we’ll send you back to your shithole hometown for a good old fashioned dicking or several from your old imaginary friend.

Only you weren’t sure that “dicking” was the right word anymore, as the thing inside you no longer bared much resemblance to human genitalia. It was more like his tongue: long and prehensile, stroking all your most sensitive places until you were trembling and whimpering like a bitch in heat, straining against the hands that held you firmly in place. You didn’t open your eyes.

Pennywise pressed his lips against your ear. “Are you going to come for me, beautiful?”

You were. You could feel the heat in your core rising to a boil. You only had a few seconds-

“Are you going to scream for me, beautiful? Scream for your dear Pennywise, like you used to do when you had nightmares. Like you did in the shower. Scream!

Your climax hit you like a brick wall, and you let out a blood-curdling scream, straining your vocal chords raw. You couldn’t feel anything but the wave of almost unbearable sensation that was crashing down on you, soaking you, drowning you.

When the wave subsided, you were cold, wet, raw, on the floor of the shower. Throbbing pain still radiated out from your wrist, and you could still feel the ghosts of many hands on your body. You collapsed onto your back, gasping for air.

You couldn’t keep doing this, could you? No matter how much you

(loved him)

wanted to, how perfect it felt to give in to him, as if that was all you were ever meant to do. It was wrong and you couldn’t keep doing it.

But you knew you would. You knew, if he came to you again, you would lay yourself down at his feet and beg him to fuck you, just like you had done that night.

Maybe, you forced yourself to hope, he wouldn’t come back again.

After several minutes, you finally found the strength to sit up and turn the water off. You carefully pushed yourself up with your good wrist and wrapped a towel around your body. Every wrong movement sent a spike of pain up your arm from your injured wrist, but you gritted your teeth and bared it. You needed to get dressed and call a cab to take you to the emergency room.

You slowly made your way into your bedroom. There, laid intentionally on the bed, was the white nightgown you were wearing in your…vision? Hallucination? Next to it was a note written in red crayon.

“I’ll see you again soon. Your friend, Pennywise.”