Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2013-08-27 08:10 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2013-08-27 08:10 pm
Entry tags:
Welcome to Night Vale | Cecil/Carlos | R | From The Moment I Saw You, I Knew I Had To Have You
Title: From The Moment I Saw You, I Knew I Had To Have You
Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale
Characters/Pairings: Cecil/Carlos
Rating: R
Contents: Body horror, consent issues, creepiness
Disclaimer: Night Vale and everything related are the property of Commonplace Books.
Awkwardly, hopefully, Carlos invites Cecil in.
(I can't figure out how to warn for this one. Just please don't go in expecting awkward-but-fluffy tentacle sex, because it is very much not that.)
Short fill for a kink meme prompt (spoilers in the prompt). Probably creepier than the OP wanted, though, even taking the premise into account.
They were making out at the lab, Carlos up against a wall with Cecil leaning into him, not two feet from a table holding several delicate half-full pipettes that really shouldn't be jostled lest they send the whole building up in flames. Given that he was finally, finally making out with Cecil, Carlos couldn't bring himself to care. At least he would die happy.
And Cecil...well, according to town records Cecil had been the Voice of Night Vale for at least a hundred and seventeen years, so Carlos figured he'd survive no matter what.
Part of the reason it had taken Carlos so long to ask Cecil out — even with a solid year of the radio host rhapsodizing about him over the airwaves — was the fear that Cecil's button-down shirts and well-creased slacks might be hiding some more...physical anomaly. Not that Carlos had a problem with this per se! He was perfectly friendly to the woman with the scales who had fixed his plumbing so the pipes would shriek less, and happy to pet the three-eyed dog he sometimes ran into when taking a pleasant walk nowhere near the dog park. But he had to admit it would be a hurdle if his hopefully-someday-sexual partner turned out to have gills, or something.
He pulled undone the top two buttons of Cecil's shirt, the better to kiss a path all the way down his gill-free neck. Cecil shivered delightfully in his arms.
The other thing holding Carlos back was his own terminal awkwardness. He hadn't even gotten up the nerve to kiss Cecil the first time until he was facing the prospect that he might never get a chance again, thanks to the threat of a buzzing shadow-void devouring the whole town person-by-person. Tonight he had tried to invite Cecil home with him, but he'd stuttered so badly that Cecil had thought it was another invitation to stop by the lab and watch some science, to which he had cheerfully agreed.
It was a good thing Cecil had been the one to kick off the kissing, or Carlos might have ended up showing him seismograph readings all night.
But now at last the ice was broken. He had an armful of an amorous boyfriend whose hands were tangled in his hair, mouth whispering Carlos, Carlos, Carlos in hot worshipful breaths against his ear, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy.
"Sweet Carlos," panted Cecil. His face was flushed (a nice, mundane, human shade of red) all the way down his neck. "Perfect Carlos. Would you mind terribly if I...slipped out of this old thing, so we could get more...intimate?"
Something in Carlos' brain snapped in half. In the best way.
"Oh dear god, please, yes," he gasped. Even though he hadn't yet gone down to the clerk's office and registered with any one specific deity, so he was probably going to get a fine later for tying up the system.
Instead of skipping straight to tearing off his clothes, Cecil tightened his grip in Carlos' dark, unruly hair and wrenched his head into position for a deeper kiss than ever. Cecil's tongue pushed its way into Carlos' mouth, and Carlos moaned desperately, trying to clutch every part of Cecil as close to him as possible.
It did put a crimp in the mood when Carlos started to gag.
Cecil's tongue seemed to be filling his whole mouth. Which frankly could be hot, and he could think of plenty of exciting uses for a tongue that long, but choking on it (with no warning, at least) was not one of them. He tried to pull back, to tell his over-eager boyfriend that they had to put on the brakes and talk for a minute.
Said over-eager boyfriend refused to let him go.
Carlos fought Cecil's grip harder, then tried to push him away. It should have been easy, with Cecil two inches shorter and somewhat lighter than he was, not to mention soft from years of sitting behind a desk with no breaks to haul heavy samples from one lab to another.
It was no use. He could flail his limbs all he wanted, but Cecil had an iron grip on his head, and was keeping their mouths locked together.
All while a tongue...tentacle?...thing slithered around in Carlos' throat.
Stay calm. Observe.
His heart was racing and his eyes starting to water, but Carlos could still breathe. So Cecil wasn't putting his life in danger. Put in context with previous evidence. Cecil loved him. Cecil, who had broken down live on air that day he almost died. Of course Cecil would never hurt him.
Hypothesis: everything I'm doing is the Weird Body Language equivalent of "yes, please, more," thought Carlos wildly, thumping his fists against Cecil's chest to no avail. When in fact he might be too shaken up to manage sex at all for a while after (not if, after) Cecil let him go. Hypothesis: for his otherwise-humanoid species, this is their method of sexual stimulation....
As subtly as it had begun, Cecil's grip began to loosen.
Carlos twisted his head and finally broke free, his muffled protests exploding into a yell. Instead of being pulled back, the slippery something disappeared into his own throat, not attached to his boyfriend at all.
"Cecil," he said hoarsely. "Cecil, what did you —?"
But Cecil's whole body was going limp against him: muscles slack, eyes vacant.
When the legs buckled, Carlos found he couldn't support Cecil's entire weight, and sank to the floor, boyfriend's limp form in his arms. "Cecil, talk to me," he begged, because talking was what Cecil normally did best. "What just happened? What's wrong? How do I fix it?"
No answer. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of Cecil's now-slack mouth.
And he didn't appear to be breathing.
Now well and truly terrified, Carlos felt for a pulse. It was there, but sluggish, and fading fast.
"Hang in there," pleaded Carlos, lying Cecil down and scanning the lab. There had to be something in all this goddamn science that could help them...
...but when he tried to get up, he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. His spine was on fire with pain. Other parts of him were going sporadically numb.
He was going to be powerless as Cecil died right beside him —
"Sweet Carlos," said the most wonderful sound Carlos had ever heard. "Kind, concerned, Carlos! I'm not going to die. Even if I wanted to, the City Council always denies my applications."
Carlos couldn't answer right away, because his face had gone numb. When he regained control of his mouth, he croaked, "Cecil...you're okay...h-help me...."
The sensation went off in his left arm, sending him the rest of the way down to the floor. It came back a moment later in a rush of pins and needles, while the feeling in his neck and lower jaw numbed out again. Only the calm, reassuring voice of Cecil gave him hope. "I'm trying, my Carlos, I promise! I'm so sorry this hurts. Please bear with it for just a few more minutes."
Carlos tried.
Either Cecil had underestimated his own skill, or they were in the middle of another Night Vale time inconsistency, because it was less than a minute before Carlos had full motor control again. The pain had receded to a dull ache at the back of his neck, no worse than a mild headache. He got up slowly, but successfully, and scrambled back over to Cecil to embrace him and thank the glow cloud they had both survived whatever-this-was.
Cecil's body was still lying exactly where Carlos had left it.
The skin had taken on a deathly ashen texture. Carlos picked up Cecil's right wrist, uncomprehending. The flesh was cool to the touch with no pulse at all.
"Cecil...?" he said weakly. "What...where are you?"
He bit his lip, waiting for Cecil to answer.
And something that was not Carlos opened Carlos' mouth, and the Voice of Night Vale said with Carlos' vocal cords, "Your brain stem, obviously. Plus a little extra running down the spinal cord. What, did you think I was controlling things from your spleen? I'm no scientist, but even I know better than that."
Carlos screamed.
The Voice cut him off mid-scream. "Don't panic, my Carlos," it cooed, stroking Carlos' cheek with his own hand. "Everything's going to be all right. Ooh, I'm so glad you invited me in! Not that there was anything wrong with that old thing...." The other hand gestured to the cooling body that Carlos had loved so much, if only because it went with the voice he'd fallen for. "...but I have been so looking forward to having better hair."
Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale
Characters/Pairings: Cecil/Carlos
Rating: R
Contents: Body horror, consent issues, creepiness
Disclaimer: Night Vale and everything related are the property of Commonplace Books.
Awkwardly, hopefully, Carlos invites Cecil in.
(I can't figure out how to warn for this one. Just please don't go in expecting awkward-but-fluffy tentacle sex, because it is very much not that.)
Short fill for a kink meme prompt (spoilers in the prompt). Probably creepier than the OP wanted, though, even taking the premise into account.
They were making out at the lab, Carlos up against a wall with Cecil leaning into him, not two feet from a table holding several delicate half-full pipettes that really shouldn't be jostled lest they send the whole building up in flames. Given that he was finally, finally making out with Cecil, Carlos couldn't bring himself to care. At least he would die happy.
And Cecil...well, according to town records Cecil had been the Voice of Night Vale for at least a hundred and seventeen years, so Carlos figured he'd survive no matter what.
Part of the reason it had taken Carlos so long to ask Cecil out — even with a solid year of the radio host rhapsodizing about him over the airwaves — was the fear that Cecil's button-down shirts and well-creased slacks might be hiding some more...physical anomaly. Not that Carlos had a problem with this per se! He was perfectly friendly to the woman with the scales who had fixed his plumbing so the pipes would shriek less, and happy to pet the three-eyed dog he sometimes ran into when taking a pleasant walk nowhere near the dog park. But he had to admit it would be a hurdle if his hopefully-someday-sexual partner turned out to have gills, or something.
He pulled undone the top two buttons of Cecil's shirt, the better to kiss a path all the way down his gill-free neck. Cecil shivered delightfully in his arms.
The other thing holding Carlos back was his own terminal awkwardness. He hadn't even gotten up the nerve to kiss Cecil the first time until he was facing the prospect that he might never get a chance again, thanks to the threat of a buzzing shadow-void devouring the whole town person-by-person. Tonight he had tried to invite Cecil home with him, but he'd stuttered so badly that Cecil had thought it was another invitation to stop by the lab and watch some science, to which he had cheerfully agreed.
It was a good thing Cecil had been the one to kick off the kissing, or Carlos might have ended up showing him seismograph readings all night.
But now at last the ice was broken. He had an armful of an amorous boyfriend whose hands were tangled in his hair, mouth whispering Carlos, Carlos, Carlos in hot worshipful breaths against his ear, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy.
"Sweet Carlos," panted Cecil. His face was flushed (a nice, mundane, human shade of red) all the way down his neck. "Perfect Carlos. Would you mind terribly if I...slipped out of this old thing, so we could get more...intimate?"
Something in Carlos' brain snapped in half. In the best way.
"Oh dear god, please, yes," he gasped. Even though he hadn't yet gone down to the clerk's office and registered with any one specific deity, so he was probably going to get a fine later for tying up the system.
Instead of skipping straight to tearing off his clothes, Cecil tightened his grip in Carlos' dark, unruly hair and wrenched his head into position for a deeper kiss than ever. Cecil's tongue pushed its way into Carlos' mouth, and Carlos moaned desperately, trying to clutch every part of Cecil as close to him as possible.
It did put a crimp in the mood when Carlos started to gag.
Cecil's tongue seemed to be filling his whole mouth. Which frankly could be hot, and he could think of plenty of exciting uses for a tongue that long, but choking on it (with no warning, at least) was not one of them. He tried to pull back, to tell his over-eager boyfriend that they had to put on the brakes and talk for a minute.
Said over-eager boyfriend refused to let him go.
Carlos fought Cecil's grip harder, then tried to push him away. It should have been easy, with Cecil two inches shorter and somewhat lighter than he was, not to mention soft from years of sitting behind a desk with no breaks to haul heavy samples from one lab to another.
It was no use. He could flail his limbs all he wanted, but Cecil had an iron grip on his head, and was keeping their mouths locked together.
All while a tongue...tentacle?...thing slithered around in Carlos' throat.
Stay calm. Observe.
His heart was racing and his eyes starting to water, but Carlos could still breathe. So Cecil wasn't putting his life in danger. Put in context with previous evidence. Cecil loved him. Cecil, who had broken down live on air that day he almost died. Of course Cecil would never hurt him.
Hypothesis: everything I'm doing is the Weird Body Language equivalent of "yes, please, more," thought Carlos wildly, thumping his fists against Cecil's chest to no avail. When in fact he might be too shaken up to manage sex at all for a while after (not if, after) Cecil let him go. Hypothesis: for his otherwise-humanoid species, this is their method of sexual stimulation....
As subtly as it had begun, Cecil's grip began to loosen.
Carlos twisted his head and finally broke free, his muffled protests exploding into a yell. Instead of being pulled back, the slippery something disappeared into his own throat, not attached to his boyfriend at all.
"Cecil," he said hoarsely. "Cecil, what did you —?"
But Cecil's whole body was going limp against him: muscles slack, eyes vacant.
When the legs buckled, Carlos found he couldn't support Cecil's entire weight, and sank to the floor, boyfriend's limp form in his arms. "Cecil, talk to me," he begged, because talking was what Cecil normally did best. "What just happened? What's wrong? How do I fix it?"
No answer. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of Cecil's now-slack mouth.
And he didn't appear to be breathing.
Now well and truly terrified, Carlos felt for a pulse. It was there, but sluggish, and fading fast.
"Hang in there," pleaded Carlos, lying Cecil down and scanning the lab. There had to be something in all this goddamn science that could help them...
...but when he tried to get up, he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. His spine was on fire with pain. Other parts of him were going sporadically numb.
He was going to be powerless as Cecil died right beside him —
"Sweet Carlos," said the most wonderful sound Carlos had ever heard. "Kind, concerned, Carlos! I'm not going to die. Even if I wanted to, the City Council always denies my applications."
Carlos couldn't answer right away, because his face had gone numb. When he regained control of his mouth, he croaked, "Cecil...you're okay...h-help me...."
The sensation went off in his left arm, sending him the rest of the way down to the floor. It came back a moment later in a rush of pins and needles, while the feeling in his neck and lower jaw numbed out again. Only the calm, reassuring voice of Cecil gave him hope. "I'm trying, my Carlos, I promise! I'm so sorry this hurts. Please bear with it for just a few more minutes."
Carlos tried.
Either Cecil had underestimated his own skill, or they were in the middle of another Night Vale time inconsistency, because it was less than a minute before Carlos had full motor control again. The pain had receded to a dull ache at the back of his neck, no worse than a mild headache. He got up slowly, but successfully, and scrambled back over to Cecil to embrace him and thank the glow cloud they had both survived whatever-this-was.
Cecil's body was still lying exactly where Carlos had left it.
The skin had taken on a deathly ashen texture. Carlos picked up Cecil's right wrist, uncomprehending. The flesh was cool to the touch with no pulse at all.
"Cecil...?" he said weakly. "What...where are you?"
He bit his lip, waiting for Cecil to answer.
And something that was not Carlos opened Carlos' mouth, and the Voice of Night Vale said with Carlos' vocal cords, "Your brain stem, obviously. Plus a little extra running down the spinal cord. What, did you think I was controlling things from your spleen? I'm no scientist, but even I know better than that."
Carlos screamed.
The Voice cut him off mid-scream. "Don't panic, my Carlos," it cooed, stroking Carlos' cheek with his own hand. "Everything's going to be all right. Ooh, I'm so glad you invited me in! Not that there was anything wrong with that old thing...." The other hand gestured to the cooling body that Carlos had loved so much, if only because it went with the voice he'd fallen for. "...but I have been so looking forward to having better hair."