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Many, many thanks to Xie_Lei, whose help with editing, pacing and figuring out a title can’t be overstated. You did a wonderful job putting up with me. 🙂 This is my first one-shot story for Literotica—no interminable, long-awaited chapters, yay! I’m sure my regular readers will appreciate not having to wait. Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to comment and vote.
***
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
–Shakespeare, Hamlet
***
“Rakshasa.” I typed the word into Google and waited for my slow connection to come up with something.
“Oh, come on,” Sy said from where he was lounging on my bed. “That’s a Hindu demon. Since when have you been Hindu?”
“Shut up.” I tried to ignore him as I browsed through the Wikipedia article. “It says here that they can possess humans and have the ability to shape shift.”
“Yeah?” He got up and looked over my shoulder at the computer. “It also says that they’re cannibals who desecrate graves. Seen me eat anyone lately?”
“If you’re a demon, maybe you eat other demons.”
“Then maybe you should be kneeling at my feet and singing my praises for protecting you and the rest of humanity from the evil demon horde.”
“You’re such an ass sometimes.” I typed in something else.
“Fallen angel?” Sy groaned. “Jesus Christ, will you get a grip? Do I look like a representative of God, fallen or otherwise?” He punched me lightly on the shoulder. “What’s got you in such an inquisitive mood, anyway?”
“Never mind, Sy.”
“I have to mind, Michael. I live with you; I can’t just ignore your weirdness. Talk to me.”
“I talk to you way too much,” I told him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I have a motherfucking psych review tomorrow, Sy, and it’s all your fault.” I didn’t bother hiding the anger in my voice. Sy never paid much attention to my mood.
“I didn’t make you talk to me at work, Michael.”
“Like I can ignore you when you pour coffee all over my boss.”
“He thought he did that himself,” Sy pointed out. “You were nowhere near him and he couldn’t see me. Then you start shouting at nothing and go and ruin the fun. Besides, your boss deserved more than coffee on his pants after treating you like shit for the past two weeks.”
I sighed. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Yes, he goddamn well does, Michael. That fucking prick makes you work harder and longer than anyone else in the fucking department because he knows he can get away with it.” Sy flopped down on my bed again, but his eyes were hard. “And you let him walk all over you. Do you have the hots for him?”
“What? No!” I protested. For Mr. Klein? Pot belly, thinning hair and a nose the size of the Hindenburg? “Hell no. But he’s my boss, and I need to make a good impression. I’m the newest employee, who do you think they’re going to fire first when the cuts come?”
“You need an infusion of self-respect in the worst way, Michael.”
“I need an infusion of time without you.”
Sy laughed. “Better start wishing on a star, Tinkerbell.”
“That’s Pinocchio, not Tinkerbell,” I muttered.
“Whatever.” He got up again and watched me type in the next word. “Incubus?” His sensual lips broke into a wide smile. “That might be the closest yet, except I don’t do the ladies, babe. Just you.”
“It says they can be bisexual.”
“It also says they can’t,” he pointed out. “That’s Wikipedia for you. Your problem is that you don’t have a concrete belief system, Michael. Nothing to lay your blame and shame on. Nothing to feel really guilty about. If your mom had known you were going to be such a leaf in the wind she would have raised you Catholic; at least then you’d have a great mythology to pin your angst on.”
“Why are you so afraid for me to find out what you are?”
“Why do you want to?” he countered. “We’ve been good for almost twenty years, Michael. Why mess with perfection?”
“I can’t talk to you about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re some bizarre figment of my imagination and it’s crazy for me to be talking to you,” I snapped.
“Now you’re just being inconsistent,” Sy pointed out with a lazy grin. “How could a figment of your imagination pour coffee all over your boss? Either I’m real or I’m not. Pick one and go with it, man.”
“I just have to figure out what you are,” I said, more to myself than to him. I needed to know, now more than ever.
“Why?”
“Because I’m almost twenty five years old,” I exclaimed, “and I’ve never had a relationship with anyone real. I’ve never been kissed, I’ve never been fucked, I’ve never been loved, Sy! I need something real, and to get that I need to figure out what to do with you.” How to get rid of you, I thought.
If Sy heard that thought, as he sometimes did, he didn’t let on. “You’ve been kissed before,” he pointed out. “Megan Harper, third grade.”
“She just did that on a dare, and anyway it doesn’t count.”
“Set bağcılar escort your parameters a little more specifically then, babe.”
I felt him move behind me. I felt warm hands cup my head, right at the base of my skull, and a gentle kiss was pressed to my temple. “Feel real yet, Michael?”
“Stop,” I groaned, more because I knew how it would make me feel later than for how it made me feel now.
“Say it like you mean it and I will.” His hands rubbed down my neck and across my shoulders, passing right through my shirt to caress the skin beneath it.
“Stop,” I whispered, almost silently. I could feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes, but I already knew it was worthless. I wanted this. Right now, this was all I had, and I wanted it.
“I want you too,” he murmured against my ear before running his tongue lightly around the edge of it. I shuddered helplessly and closed my eyes to block out the glaring light of the computer screen. I didn’t want to think about searching for answers right now.
“Come to bed, baby.”
I stood up on shaky legs and let Sy take my hand, leading me over to my bed. It was a double, barely big enough for two but more than enough for just me. I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the feel of his hand in mine, the firm press of flesh and the creases across his palms. I lay down on the bed, loosening my collar and undoing the zipper on my pants. I didn’t like making a mess of my work clothes.
“Look at me, Michael.” His voice was sweeter than honey and softer than silk. I’d been hearing that voice for years. It lived in my head, narrated my dreams and haunted my soul. “Michael…” He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, first softly and then harder. “Michael, look at me. Look at me, feel me, know that I’m real.”
“I don’t know that you’re real.”
“Well, something thinks I’m real,” he said as he reached down and stroked my growing erection. “That feels real to me, too. Look at me, baby, don’t shut me out.”
I couldn’t resist his pleading. I’d never been able to resist Sy for long. I opened my eyes and he was there, lying on top of me, smiling sweetly. I could feel the weight of his body against mine, and he was hotter than a furnace. His sandy blond hair fell forward over his face, brushing his sculpted cheekbones. His eyes were hazel, bright and mischievous, and his perfect lips were just inches away from mine. He was as handsome as he had always been, built on a slightly larger scale than me, strong and muscular. My perfect dream man.
“Don’t think that,” he whispered, and his sweet breath touched my lips. “Take what you’re given, love. Take it and be happy, like I’m happy.” He kissed me again, one hand running through the glossy brown curls of my hair. “You’re beautiful,” he told me as he began to slide down my body. “So beautiful.”
I wanted to say it back, but I didn’t have the breath for it. His warm, wet mouth reached my groin, and before I could even get my underwear off he was sucking me deep.
“Oh…” I gasped, my voice hitching as I inhaled. “Sy…”
One hand played across my chest while the other gripped my hip, rubbing in small, tight circles. He slid it beneath my body to cup my ass, pressing my hips further towards his mouth. God, the things he could do with his mouth…there was less finesse than usual this time, he wanted to get me off fast, to tire me out and get my mind off of uncomfortable subjects. It had worked before. It always worked in the beginning, because I wanted him so badly and because I was so alone, otherwise.
Sy drew my cock to the back of his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of it while keeping the pressure amazingly tight. He shifted his head back up, then down again, pressing me into his throat and humming a little on every down stroke. His hand gripped my ass hard, fingers digging into my crevice and rubbing against my tight, furled flesh. As soon as he touched me there, it was over. I felt my orgasm begin and I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t help what I did next. I reached down, hands desperate and groping, and grabbed for his thick, shining hair.
My hands passed right through.
I came hard, moaning Sy’s name, but the pain was almost as sharp as the pleasure. My hands kept falling, grabbing the bedspread beneath me and wrenching at it in frustration as the feelings began to ebb. My breathing slowed, steadied for a moment and then became ragged again as I started to cry.
Sy lifted himself back up my body in an instant. I curled away from him but he just moved in behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest as he held me close. “Baby,” he whispered in my ear. His voice was sad and hurt. “Baby, don’t cry. Michael, please don’t.”
“Go,” I mumbled, pressing my face into the pillow. “Just go, Sy.”
“Michael, no.”
“Yes.” My throat closed against a sob and my whole body tensed as I fought it. I didn’t want him to be there when I broke down. “Go, please. bahçelievler escort Please.”
He sighed. He kissed the back of my head one last time, stroked my abdomen comfortingly, and then he was gone. The pressure, the warmth, the sensation all disappeared. I was alone. Or had I always been alone? I rolled onto my stomach, buried my face deep in the pillow and let out the sobs that had been building in me since he first touched me.
***
Sy had been with me ever since my fifth birthday. My mother had taken me to the beach that day. She set up her umbrella, got out her wine cooler and laid back on her towel, eyes closed. No one else was around. I took my red plastic shovel and bucket down to the edge of the wet sand and started to build. I scooped sand into the bucket, fishing out small pieces of shell as I did. I patted down the sand once the bucket was full and then turned it over, making a perfect cylinder. I set my tools down and began to draw windows on the outside of it with my index finger. By the time I was done, the waves had washed back in. I protected my sand house by sitting in front of it, but it was only after the biggest wave had receded that I noticed it took my shovel with it.
I jumped up in distress, watching my bright red shovel disappear into the ocean. “Mommy!” She didn’t hear me, or didn’t want to hear. I couldn’t wait for her to notice me, my shovel would be lost by then. I’d have to retrieve it myself.
I ran down the foamy beach and into the water. I didn’t know how to swim. Swimming hadn’t even occurred to me. I just needed my shovel back. The waves were easy for a bit and I went in as deep as my chest, looking for my shovel. It had sunk, but I managed to find it through the silt. I held my breath and bent down, reaching for it.
A large wave broke over my body, tumbling me head over heels and knocking the air from my lungs. I inhaled sea water and began choking. It was terrifying, I didn’t know up from down and all around me was cloudy nothingness. I felt myself vomit water and silt and the vague light began to go dark. A warm hand grasped my own, and I lost consciousness.
When I came to I was lying flat on my stomach on the coarse sand. My little house had melted in the waves, and all that was left of it were a few misshapen lumps. I coughed and turned my head. Lying beside me was a boy about my age. His skin was tanned and his hair was sandy blonde. He was looking at me. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I croaked.
“I got your shovel.” He pointed at the little red implement above his head.
“Thank you.”
“My name’s Sy, what’s yours?”
“Michael.”
He smiled, and his smile renewed a little of my earlier happiness. “Let’s make a new one.”
“A new what?”
“A sand castle.” He sat up. “I’ll hold the bucket, you scoop.”
I sat up too. I was a little dizzy, but not too bad. We spent the rest of the afternoon building castles in the sand, and I knew I had found my best friend.
Sy came home with me. It didn’t seem strange to me at the time. He was my friend; of course he should come home with me. My mother didn’t seem to see him, but then she barely saw me most of the time, so that didn’t seem strange either. It was when I brought him to kindergarten with me the next day and tried to introduce him to the other kids that I first got the idea he wasn’t just as real to everyone else as he was to me.
My teacher, a sweet-faced woman named Mrs. Honeycutt, took me aside after I yelled at a kid named Johnny who teased me about Sy. I would have done more than just yell, but our teacher was vigilant. She took me out of the group, walked me over to her office and sat me down on a little wooden stool. “Michael? Why did you get mad at Johnny?”
“Because Johnny says Sy isn’t real,” I said grumpily.
“Is Sy your friend?”
“Yes.” I pointed to Sy, who smiled at me. “He’s right there. He came with me to school today.”
“Michael, I can’t see Sy either.” Her tone was gentle but I took offense anyway.
“He’s real! He’s right there!”
“I know he is,” she said agreeably. No one could lie like Mrs. Honeycutt. “I’m not saying he’s imaginary, Michael. He’s just invisible. I don’t think the rest of us will be able to hear or see him. He’s going to be your special friend, okay?”
“Oh.” It made sense to me, more sense than the explanation deserved, but I was only five. “Okay.” I turned and looked at Sy. “Sorry, you have to play with just me.”
“That’s okay,” he shrugged. “I like you best anyway.”
I took Sy’s presence for granted after a while. He seemed so real, it was impossible for me to think of him otherwise. I didn’t have many friends and it didn’t bother me, because I had Sy. My mom never cared about it, so it just became the norm.
Our relationship didn’t start to change until I began masturbating. I got into it later than most kids, probably; I was a little slow in the physical arena. I was a computer nerd, not şirinevler escort a jock. The Internet opened my eyes to all sorts of things, however. The first night I made myself come, Sy watched me the whole time. His eyes were fixed on my cock and when I came, spraying my seed up against my chest and stomach, his mouth opened as though he was hungry. “Does that feel good?” he asked me.
“It feels awesome,” I replied with a hazy grin. “Try it.”
I had seen Sy naked before, but he’d never been hard. As soon as I laid eyes on his cock, I felt a stir inside myself that the naked woman I’d just jacked off to while looking at hadn’t even come close to matching. I wanted Sy. I wanted to touch him. He stroked himself, his hand wrapped tight around his dick. I went over to his side. “Let me try it.”
He moved his hand, but I couldn’t grab him. I frowned in annoyance. “Can’t you make me feel it?”
“No,” he told me. “But I bet I can feel yours.” When he reached out and touched me, I almost blacked out. His hand felt so good against my slick, hard skin. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. “Like it?” he asked me with a smile.
“Yeah,” I moaned.
“Then I bet you’ll love this.” He let go of me, leaned over and swallowed my cock. No prelude, no build-up; just opened his mouth and closed his lips around the base, his tongue working against me the whole time. I came instantly, all hail the recuperative powers of youth. I came in his mouth, but I felt the warmth splash on my thighs. Still, when he let go of me and looked up, Sy looked like a satiated cat who’d found the cream. “Like it?”
“Love it,” I gasped as I fell back against my bed. After a moment, his arm crept tentatively around my waist as he settled in next to me. I turned my head to bury it against his chest, but suddenly I couldn’t feel it. When I turned away, though, I felt him scoot in behind me. It was the first time I fell asleep with him holding me, and it soon became a habit.
He could touch me, but I couldn’t touch him. I could respond to his touch, but I couldn’t initiate it. It was fine all through high school. When I got to college though, everything fell apart.
My nerves were stretched thin. Classes stressed me out, studying was a waste of time and being so far from home transformed me into a grouch. I don’t know why; it wasn’t like I had any real connection to my mother’s home, but the lack of freedom was stifling. I hated having a roommate. A roommate other than Sy, that is. Sy came with me of course, and the first semester way okay. After winter break, though, I came back and found out that my roommate had moved. The RA told me he’d requested a switch because he thought he’d do better with someone more compatible, but I heard the murmurs in the halls. I knew the real reason.
“He talks to himself, like, all the time.”
“He’s got some sort of complex.”
“Is he on drugs? What’s he on, can I try it?”
So I spent the second half of my freshman year alone, ostracized in my own dorm and by most of my fellow classmates. Apparently I talked to Sy a lot more than I realized. Not that it bothered him.
“Fuck ’em,” he shrugged one evening when I confessed how awkward I felt. “You don’t have to pretend just to make them happy. As long as you know I’m real, that’s all that matters.”
“Are you real?” It was the first time I had ever asked that question, and I found myself dreading the answer. Sy just scoffed and punched me on the shoulder.
“That feel real enough to you? Come on, let’s go for a run.”
Things were good again between us, but the seed of doubt had been planted. I was fine as long as my world remained steady. When my mother shot up too many drugs during my senior year and went through a psychotic episode, I had to leave school and supervise her removal to a secure facility. The heavy drinking she’d been doing for the last twenty years hadn’t helped her body, and between liver failure and brain damage there was no way she’d ever be able to take care of herself again.
My mother and I didn’t really know each other, but I was all she had. I moved her things and made arrangements with the doctors. The CNAs were sweet, but I didn’t understand the really sympathetic looks until one of them, a cute girl with curly red hair, said to me, “It’s too bad you don’t have anyone to help you through this. If you need to talk to someone, I’m a really good listener.” She’d left me staring at her as she walked out of my mother’s room and closed the door.
“I’m alone.”
I didn’t even realize I’d spoken until Sy said, “You’re not alone, Michael. Hello?” He spread his hands. “I’m with you. I’ll always be with you.”
“You’re not…I mean, it’s not…” I didn’t know quite how to say it. “It’s not the same, Sy.” It wasn’t the same. I’d seen people in the hallways embracing, lovers kissing and holding hands. I’d blocked it out for years, not realizing how badly I’d wanted to be part of a couple until my last real human connection was severed, lost with my mother’s sanity.
“We can kiss,” Sy said, reading my mind. He moved in close to me and touched his lips to mine. They were warm and soft. “We can hold hands.” He took my dangling hand in a firm grip.
“I can’t.” I tried to grip his hand in return, but the pressure disappeared and my fingers balled into a fist. “You can touch me, but I can’t touch you back.”
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