((Thanks to Hector for writing this up and sending it to me as we began with this quirky idea that has led to so much!))
True to his word, after dinner of pasta and wine; Hector crawled up into Drystan’s lips and instigated a heated make-out session. He had stated how much he wanted Drystan and now as part of the whole ‘discussion’ he wanted to show him. He was pretty sure there was still a small disconnect and Drystan wasn’t quite understanding why this had all come pouring out of Hector in the first place. It was hard to explain without starting from the beginning and relaying every single thing that had ever happened to him, ever. It would take a long time to relay all the children he had lost, all the lovers, all the friends and just how many times he had truly put everyone else in front of him. Plus, he was pretty sure that Drystan thought Hector assumed DRYSTAN was the one that was instigating someone on the side. But it wasn’t that at all. Hector was pretty sure that Lance intentionally put himself in Drystan’s employ so he could try and seduce him. Not that he blamed the boy, if he couldn’t touch anyone due to a curse, he’d try to find the nearest person he COULD touch so he could start some kind of relationship. It merely made sense. The only thing that can be done, however, was for Hector to speak his mind and then use his body to do the talking in greater detail.
And so, he rode Drystan like there was no tomorrow Hector lifted himself up and down on Drystan, screamed his name and otherwise made a rather large spectacle of the sexual encounter. He stared Drystan in the eye, smiled, arched and when he finally did finish he collapsed in a heap and passed the fuck out snuggled against his chest. Hector was out and anything that happened between that moment and when he awoke with the sun was lost to him...
And so it was as they clung to one another, sleeping soundly, a strange picture began to form in Drystan’s mind. It was merely the streets of Callisto at first. He was strolling down the lane in front of the mansion and nothing was amiss, but then it began to rain...up. The water droplets rose from the ground in little sprinkles at first, then big fat rain drops and then eventually it was pouring upwards. Drystan would find a wall of water that mirrored the sea stretched out in front of him. Dolphins, whales, all manner of fish swam by and then tentacles began to reach towards him. There was no running from them. They shot out of the water, wrapping around his wrists and ankles, one went around his throat, another around his waist and soon he was jerked into the water...no time to shout. In the water he would float, breathlessly, soundlessly for a moment moments before abruptly being thrust out onto soft grass. The sun was high and pretty, the sound of children playing and laughing. He was apparently at a child’s birthday party. People were calling out Maria’s name and she was opening presents and blowing out candles. She pulled out a particularly soft fluffy bunny from a box and hugged it tightly to her chest.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stan would see a man stumble from a rather large and imposing house. He had a gun in his hand and he looked wild eyed. His ears and nose were bleeding and he was babbling in the tongues of the Old Ones. Maria spun round and said ‘Daddy?’ in a curious, but not precisely frightened tone. A shadow fell over the entire area, people ran screaming, a woman tumbled out of the house with a gunshot wound to her stomach. The man lifted the gun and pointed at little Maria. And then there was Hatman. Plain as day he stood with shadowy arms outstretched, trying to shield Maria. He spoke to the man who was now dripping blood from his eyes. He shouted at him to get control of himself, but it was far too late. The gunshot rang out and Maria’s brains splattered all over her pretty pink cake. The ground dropped out from beneath Stan and he fell, he fell and fell and fell until he landed in a room with a screaming baby.
“Mina shut that fucking kid up before I strangle it!!
A tiny babe in nothing but a diaper was lying on a mattress in the corner. Hatman and Maria appeared. Hatman promptly picked the baby up. It was a little boy with bright white eyes and a full head of black hair. He started to shoosh and coo to the baby, rocking him as Maria stood up on her tippy toes to see him. A woman opened the door, going sheet white at the display of her baby floating around the room, being rocked by ghosts. But he quieted and so she closed the door behind her.
“He’s sleeping now. Everything’s fine.”
“Good. Go make me some fucking dinner.”
The vision of Hatman holding baby Hector against his chest became wet and drippy, melting away like a painting left in heavy rain. It ran around Drystan’s feet and ankles, a myriad of colors that just kept rising and rising and rising like flood waters. In a rush that seemed to be an eternity but also only a few seconds it filled his mouth, nostrils, ears and went up over his head, thrusting him downward in a spiral of swirling color until a light peaked out and he found himself in a messy room staring at Hector once again. He was late teens, perhaps early twenties at best. He was thin as a rail, with frizzy hair and bright red pants. He was flipping through what appeared to be pictures of scantily clad men. Hector licked his lips and roamed his hands down his thin chest to the fly of his pants. He unbuttoned and reached down, clearly about to explore himself when the shadow moved over his body. He gasped and tossed the book away. “Hatman! Holy shit don’t...don’t just startle me like that.” Hector was bright pink and trying to cover himself, but that shadow ghost reached down and bodily picked young Hector up, carrying him over to a full-length mirror in the corner. ‘Why do you deny yourself carnal pleasures?’ Hector twisted in that dark grasp, gasping as shadows ran across his nipples and something started moving inside his pants. He fought against Hatman for a few minutes and then let out a low moan. He shivered and shut his eyes, only for a shadowy tendril to wrap around his head and force his face toward the mirror. ‘Look at yourself! Look yourself in the eyes. Look at your pleasure. You look without blinking...at what I’m about to do to you...’ Hector choked as he was held up by what could only be described as tentacles. His mouth dropped open and one took the opportunity to shove halfway down his throat, making it bulge and choking sounds come from him. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he was held aloft in the air, nude, spread eagle and black suckered tentacles started to creep out from under Hatman’s jacket, out of his pants legs, out of the sleeves of his jacket...and out from under his hat.
Hector was surrounded, being pleasured from all ends. He moaned and panted, leaned in close, pressed to the mirror and violated. He didn’t seem to mind, quite the opposite, actually. Ten minutes in and he was putty in Hatman’s tentacles. He was arched, sweaty and begging for more. It didn’t stop until he literally passed out, dangling helplessly in the air like a fish on a hook.
Then, Hatman carefully lowered young Hector back into his bed and tucked him in. He brushed a hand across his fuzzy head and purred down to him. ‘Sleep now, Sweet Prince. We have a long way to travel together.’ A shadowy finger booped Hector on the snoot and again the entire vision just melted into a swirl of painted colors going down a drain. In the end, Drystan would find himself in a small room surrounded by canvas. It was similar to his own room in that the depictions were various glimpses of Gods one could not look directly at. Tentacles here, blood there, a swirl of an eye. In the center sat a shadow with a Bowler Hat upon his head. He had a large brush and he was adding more and more yellow to a figure in front of him on an enormous canvas.
Hatman made a noise like clucking his tongue. ‘Naughty, naughty Little King.’ Hatman pushed himself up, the sickening sound of tentacles slurping over the top of one another filling the small space. He turned toward Drystan and the painting of the One in Yellow moved WITH the old shadowy ghost, the tentacles over-lapping, becoming one as they filled the space up like a teratoma. ‘You are not supposed to be here. Not. Yet.’ And it all vanished into nothingness.