Lich Boyfriend: Onjondad (complete)

You’ve lived in the same place all your life, in the same house, with the same parents, with many birds and many plants. You’ve known every inch of your small town, every person in it, every road, where the best candy was, where the best lemonade was, everything. So when you find a road that you have never seen before, it’s more than a surprise. In fact, it sort of pisses you off. Where did this road come from? Where did the bright blue and rusted mailbox come from? Why does the signpost look old? 

You stand at the end of the road, reading the street name, Lastly Cove, and seeing it is indeed on your map. But you know above anything else that that road wasn’t there last night. In fact, what had been there was a hydrangea bush on death’s door. You had come to trim it down and save what you could as a favor to Mrs. Hapsmith (who made the best apple pie in town). But the dying bush is gone and now there is a row of trees leading up the gravel covered path. 

You sit on your bike staring up it- Glaring, really. You know this hadn’t been here. At least, you thought you knew. No! You weren’t going to let doubt slip in. You had roamed every inch of this town and you know Lastly Cove had never been here before. You take your bike, loaded with your gardening supplies, and peddle up the path.

The road looks worn and old, like it had been there since you were born. The trees look weathered too. Somehow, you had always been able to tell a plant’s age by looking at it. It is a strange sort of power your mother had dubbed as such. It made her gardening thrive and allowed you to make a business out of it. 

Lastly Cove should end in a cowfield. Mr. Gregor’s cowfield to be exact. Instead, it ends in a literal cove of trees with an old, strange looking house slapped in the center. The yard is overgrown with strange metal statues littering everywhere. You stop at the mouth of the cove where there is an odd statue at each side. There is one that looks like an angel made completely out of arms and hands. The other is a demon made out of legs and feet. You grimace at the sight, picking vines off of them. 

You then stare to the house, seeing lights flicker from inside. For a moment, you consider acting smart and going back from whence you came. Instead, you decide to do the opposite and you ride up closer to the house. You lean your bike against what used to be a fence and you stride up to the door. The house somehow seems crooked, like it’s leaning to one side. It’s all made of brick and the trimmings are painted dark blue. 

You ring the doorbell, but you hear no sound. You frown for a moment and press the doorbell again. From inside, you hear a horrible scream. You step down off the stoop and a moment later, the door swings open. Standing there is a man so tall he has to stoop so he doesn’t hit his head on the doorframe. His long black hair hangs like a sheet around his head. He’s wearing perfectly round glasses. His features are extremely sharp, with jutting cheekbones, hollow cheeks, a hooked nose with a large hump, and a chin that could cut glass. 

He slips from inside his house and stands on the stoop before you. He’s wearing a suit vest and a pinstripe shirt underneath with tight leather gloves on his hands. He stands erect, looking like some extra terrestrial being. 

“Who are you?” He asks.

You forget for a moment. “Oh!” You quickly take a card from your pocket. “Here.”

His spider-leg like fingers pinch the card and he flips it up to his face. Adjusting his glasses, he reads it over then turns his attention back to you. “Gardening services?”

You’re lucky his yard looks like a wreck. “Yes!” you gasp. “I wanted to offer my services to you.”

The tall, thin man looks around and sighs. He taps the card to his cheek and nods. “I suppose it could use some trimming.” He then grimaces. “But-” He looks back at you. “Seems like such a lot of work for one girl as young as you.”

Your guts sink. “I’m not a young girl,” you grumble. “This is just a baby face.” You swing your finger in a circle around your head. “I’m almost thirty.”

The man jostles. “Oh.” His eyes dart over you one last time. “So sorry. You certainly do have a young, lovely face,” he chuckles nervously.

You sigh. “Anyways, I can handle the work if you want the help.” You pray he turns you down and you never have to come back here. There is something strange about him that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“It might be nice,” he says.

Crap, you think to yourself. Doomed again.

“I could sit out there and have tea rather than in the stuffy house.” As he turns, his hair shifts and you see his ears are quite large with drooping lobes and pointed tips. “What are your rates?”

You point at the card. “Other side.”

“Oh,” he gasps and flips the card over. “Oh! How nice!” He smiles as he reads over it. “I can for sure pay you for this. If I do weekly, perhaps it won’t be such a burden. You can widdle it down and then just tend to it.”

Crap, you think again. Every week with this one?

“Yeah, that sounds great!” You force yourself to sound exuberant. 

“Can you start tomorrow?” He asks with a smile.

You sigh and nod. “Yes. Bright and early.”

“Bright and early,” he repeats. “Oh, by the way,” he holds his long, thin, hand out to you. “The name is Onjondad.”

You try not to react to the name but it’s hard. “Onjondad?” Your small hand slips into his and his grip is firm but gentle.

“Onjondad,” he says with a nod. He gives your hand a hearty shake then steps back. “You can call me Onjon, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” You move back towards your bike. “Well, until tomorrow then.” You hop onto the seat.

Onjon waves at you. “Bright and early.”

“Yeah.” You quickly drive away, wondering if you have made some sort of deal with the devil.

The next day, you drive up to his house in your truck. You take out the heavier equipment you need and, as you’re carrying the weedwhacker over through the tall grass, Onjon steps out onto his back porch. He’s wearing a long black robe and his stick like legs peek out from the slip as he walks onto the stairs.

“You really are here bright and early.” He seems alarmed by your presence.

“I told you so.” You look up at him. “Is it a problem?”

Onjon shakes his head. “No. I just didn’t realize anyone had the same hours as me.” He then points inside and he’s still wearing the gloves. “Would you like to come in for coffee before you start?”

“I’ve already had my fill, but thank you for the offer. Best go in now, this thing can send green carnage flying.” You hold up the weed whacker.

“Yes,” Onjon chuckles. “Should you need anything, just knock on the door.”

Once the door is closed behind him, you set to work. Around one, you stop and survey what you’ve accomplished. You’ve gotten most of the tall grass taken care of, there are just some spots around the statues you may have to handle manually. You’ve mowed and gotten everything looking sleek already. Next week, you’ll have to tackle the hedges, flowers, and veins that have taken over around the house. 

As you’re packing up the truck, Onjon steps from his home and smiles at his yard. “You’ve done wonderful work already!”

“Thanks.” You wipe your brow with a rag. “I think, within the month, I’ll have this place looking good enough for magazines.”

“I don’t ask for that sort of work, just cozy and clean is all I ask.” He then hands over an envelope. “First day’s pay, all well earned. I even included a tip for you.”

“Ah, thank you.” You grin at the idea of a tip. Inside, you find cash and well over a hundred dollars what you expected. “I think you put too much in here.” You offer the envelope back for his inspection.

“Oh no, I made sure to give you a well deserved tip. Is one hundred not enough?”

“One hundred?” You balk.

Onjon nods. “Yes. I was very pleased. I think you earned it.”

“One hundred dollars?” You ask again.

His brow furrows and he turns to look questioningly at you. “Yes,” he says simply.

“Mr. Onjon, this is very kind of you! But that seems like so much. I couldn’t possibly-” Onjon puts his hand over yours and pushes the envelope back towards you. 

“What would I possibly use the money on?” he asks. “I’ve got too much of it and too little to use it on.” He gives you a soft, charming smile. “It was no mistake and it is a gift. I want you to take it.”

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “This is…” you laugh and grin up at him. “Thank you so much!”

Onjon’s cheeks start to rosy up. His pale skin looks more purple than pink when it becomes flushed. He clears his throat and straightens his back as you beam up at him. “You’re very welcome.” His gaze focuses on you and his smile is small but sweet. “I’m happy to do it, since you work so well.”

“I guess I’ll see you next week then?” you ask.

“Yes, of course, no sense stopping now.” Onjon adjusts his glasses. “Next week, bright and early.”

“Bright and early.” You nod.

When you arrive to Onjon’s house the following week, he’s waiting for you outside on his porch. He has a small table set up with chairs that looked like something my grandparents had.

“Good morning.” You wave to him. “You sure you want to enjoy your breakfast out here while I work?” You’ve prepared yourself to be on your hands and knees all day.

Onjon pats the seat beside him. “Come join me.”

“Oh uh-” You weigh your options for a moment. “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Onjon. That’s really very sweet of you.”

“Nonsense. If I talk about what I want done, we can still consider it work.” He pats the seat again for you.

You sigh and walk up, joining him at the little table. Even sitting, he’s remarkably tall. You know you have to keep in mind there is something strange about Onjon and his home. After all, it hadn’t been there a while ago, it had simply appeared. Lastly Cove didn’t exist a week ago.

Onjon goes on about things he wants done in the yard now that he can see what he’s working with. He talks to you about the ideas you already had in mind. While Onjon talks, you look at him a bit closer than before. He looks older, but there is something unearthly and attractive about him. He is like some Frankenstein creation who actually has a chance.

Each week, you came to his house and found him waiting on his porch for you. You would talk for a while, eat a nice breakfast, and he would find something for you to work on so it wasn’t just all nicesties. Each week, too, he over tipped, which was wonderful but a little embarrassing. You enjoyed his company and his talks, although each time you seemed to forget how odd he should be. You were letting a crush get in the way of what you know should be right.

Crush? Was it? The thought was bothering you. It made you hyper aware of every interaction with him and it made you nervous. You started blushing more and laughing more awkwardly around him. You were starting to humiliate yourself.

One week, you are doing spot work, cleaning up certain areas and planting new things that Onjon had brought, so you just have your bike. As you are riding up to his place, you notice that storm clouds are gathering. It was supposed to be sunny all day. How did this happen? Stopping to check your phone again, you see it still says it is supposed to be clear and sunny all day. You shrug it off and continue on. As you get to Onjon’s, he isn’t outside like usual, so you just get to work. You settle in at a spot where he wants some flowers planted and you start digging up the dirt. As you get up and walk towards Onjon’s shed, you trip.

With a yelp, you hit the ground hard and thunder rumbles in the distance. “Ow,” you whine as you sit up. Your elbows and forearms hurt from the landing, but what hurts the most is your ankle. Looking back, there is a root sticking up out of the ground, you are certain it hadn’t been there all the time you mowed. 

“Shit,” you grumble and you curl up your leg to look over your injury.

“Are you alright?” Onjon comes out of the house.

“I tripped. I think my ankle might be twisted or something,” you hiss. 

Onjon comes out of his house and thunder growls. It starts to rain as he approaches you. It’s light at first but by the time Onjon reaches you, it’s pouring down rain.

“Here! Oh no!” You grab hold of his hand. “You’re getting soaked!”

“So are you.” Onjon scoops you up in his arms rather than helping brace you to stand. He then carries you inside and he stands dripping in the doorway. “So sorry,” he huffs. “Injured and soaked in rain.”

“It’s ok,” you gasp. Lightning flashes outside and your arms tighten around his neck out of fear. “Could have been worse.” 

Onjon carries you into a room where the walls are lined with shelves crammed tight with books. There’s a piano and a desk, as well as a brick fireplace that’s lit. Onjon sets you down on a ragged old sofa.

“I’ll go get you one of my robes to change into,” Onjon sighs. “I’ll come back and check your ankle.” He places an ottoman under your feet and he whisks off towards the back.

You sigh and sink back into the sofa, feeling chilled and achy. This is your first time being in Onjon’s home, but honestly, it’s pretty much exactly like you pictured. Cluttered, a bit dusty, but comfortable and warm. You reach out to pick up a pillow and it yowls at you.

You nearly scream as the pillow stretches out, revealing itself to be a cat with huge bug eyes and an underbite.

“You have a cat?” you blurt as Onjon comes back into the room.

Onjon looks at the old cat. “Is that what that is?” He then smiles at you and hands you the robe. “Do you need help changing?” he asks.

“I can just put the robe on,” you reply.

“You’ll get cold!” Onjon gasps. “Your clothes are soaked through, it can’t be comfortable.”

Your cheeks burn. You can’t imagine being basically naked in Onjon’s home, it’s too much. “It’s ok! Really,” you giggle. You then flinch as lightning lights up the study and thunder crashes behind it. You suck in a petrified breath as your fists curl into the robe in your hands.

“Are you alright?” Onjon asks.

“Yeah,” you fib. “No worries.” You slip the robe on around your wet clothes as Onjon kneels down by the ottoman to check your ankle.

His long, delicate fingers gently knead into your sore ankle and he rubs in a balm before wrapping it. “That should hold for now.” He looks up at you and smiles. “Did you only bring your bike today?”

“It was supposed to be sunny,” you say with a pout. “I’m sorry. It looks like I’m stuck here.”

“Don’t apologize for that.” Onjon sits in the big chair behind his piano. The old cat hops down from the sofa and pounces into his lap. “I’ll appreciate the company with such foul weather.” He strokes the cat lovingly. “We can talk about things aside from business.” He sets the old cat aside and turns himself to face the leys. A stack of books topples over as the cat darts by them.

One of the books slides close to you and the cover looks old and worn. There is lettering carved into the thick leather and, for a moment, you think it’s nothing of this world.

“How long have you lived here?” Onjon asks as he starts to play the piano. He plays a slow and gentle melody and, outside, the thunder sounds further away, but the rain still pours. 

“In this town? I was born here,” you answer.

Onjon strikes a sour note and, outside, it sounds like a tree limb crashes and falls. “You don’t say,” he murmurs and continues to play.

You take a cautious breath. “How long have you lived here?”

“Long enough,” he says under his breath.

You glance out the window, not really wanting to press the issue further. You’re freezing now, the wet clothes don’t seem to be getting any dryer and you’re growing more and more uncomfortable.

“Actually…” You sit up and look towards Onjon. “Could you help me to a bathroom so I could change?”

Onjon smiles and stands from the piano. “Of course.” He helps you stand and lets you lean on him as he leads you to the bathroom. “Oh my, you do feel cold.” He touches your cheek with his gloved palm. “Would you like a hot soak in the tub?”

You blush at the thought of it. “No,” you shake your head. “It’s ok. I think once I get out of these wet clothes I’ll be fine.” You look up at him, gazing through his glasses to his dark eyes. “It just feels embarrassing.”

Onjon smiles. “Would it help if I just put on a robe too?”

Your cheeks burn bright red so you turn your head away. “No!” you gasp. “No, I mean.” You glance back up at him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I guess it would be quite morbid,” Onjon sighs. He turns on the bathroom light and then lays clean towels out. “A pretty thing like you wouldn’t want something like me running around half naked,” he chuckles.

“It isn’t that,” you grumble as your face burns like melting ice. “It isn’t that it would be unpleasant. Quite the opposite really.”

Onjon laughs softly and he slips his fingers along your jaw. “Your cheeks are quite red,” he whispers. He then slips away. “Best change out of those wet clothes.” He closes the door behind himself as he leaves.

You sit on the edge of the tub, taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly. “Oh come on now!” You smack your face a few times. “Get it together.” You start to undress and you see how erect your nipples have gotten, but you chalk it up to the cold. You hang your clothes over the edge of the tub and turn, glancing yourself in the mirror. You stroke your hand down your body and then slip your fingers between your legs.

“Crap,” you grunt. Your fingers are slick as you pull them back. “Why am I so turned on now?” You wash your hands and quickly slip the black robe on. It’s far too long for you, so you hold up the hem to keep yourself from stepping on it and tripping.

There is a knock at the door. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Door is unlocked.”

Onjon steps in, wearing a black robe just like yours. “Much better?” Onjon smiles at you.

“Getting there,” you smile up shyly at him. “You really didn’t have to change.”

Onjon places a warm arm around you. “I wanted to.” There is a hiss and crackle as the power goes out. Onjon scoffs and shakes his head. “Of course.” He then looks back at you. “It’ll get cold. Best head back to the fire. I’ll carry you.”

“Oh, it’s ok, really.” You try to stand up but find it horribly difficult.

“Nonsense, come here.” He takes you back to the living room and sits you down on the sofa. The fireplace is going strong so that the entire room is wrapped in a warm glow. As Onjon steps back, his robe opens up on his long leg, cutting up to his bare thigh. You pinch your thighs together as you try to quell the growing ache.

“Everything alright?” Onjon asks.

You nod. “Yeah.” You clutch the robe around your neck. “I’m feeling better already. Really.” Glancing back out the window, you sigh. “The rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up.”

“Sick of me already?” Onjon teases.

“No,” you gasp. “Far from.” You glance away from his smile. “I’m just a little nervous is all.”

“Nervous?” He chuckles. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

“I, well-” you laugh anxiously. “You see, I’m uhm…” You peek up at him and he tilts his head back slightly. “You look really sexy right now and it’s hard to look at you!” You cup your hands over your face. “Oh god, I can’t believe I said that.”

Onjon sits down beside you on the sofa. “That’s a big compliment for me.” He sits close to you and places his hand on your thigh. “Coming from someone who looks like a luxurious candy right now.”

You bite your lip and laugh again. “I mean it. You really do look good!”

Onjon’s hand squeezes. “There’s something else.”

“Huh?” You gasp, turning to face him. He’s so close and growing even closer. 

“You have something you want to ask me, don’t you?” His lips brush against your cheek and jaw. “You’ve lived here all your life, correct? Isn’t there a question burning inside you?”

“Onjon,” you moan and place your hand on his chest. You press your lips to his and slip your fingers around the back of his neck. His mouth opens and his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels long and strange, but your mind is too full of white static to notice.

Onjon pulls back and wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb and adjusts his glasses back into place. “I’m sorry,” he then whispers weakly. He lays his head on your shoulder. “I just can’t scare you. It isn’t in me.”

You run your fingers through his long black hair and down his back. “It’s ok,” you murmur. “I was worried for a second.”

Onjon looks up at you with apologetic puppy dog eyes. “You were?”

You smile at him and kiss the tip of his nose. “You’re so cute right now.”

Onjon sits up and smiles at you. “I’m far from cute,” he sighs. “I’m just some old man.” He then touches your cheek. “I never expected anyone to find me here, but you showed up and proved me wrong.”

“So, Lastly Cove isn’t supposed to exist,” you smile, proud to know you’re right.

Onjon kisses your cheek and neck. “No, it’s not.” He eyes you. “I came here to hide. To escape people wanting to use me and my gifts.”

You cup his cheek and run your fingers through his hair again. “Are you ok?”

Onjon smiles. “For now. But you certainly gave me a scare. I never expected someone to show up at my door. Let alone an adorable little gardener.” He kisses you and places a hand on your lower back. “I wanted to keep my eye on you.”

“Oh, so that’s why you hired me,” you scoff. “And the morning chats were just to feel me out.”

“That’s right.” Onjon takes off his glasses and sets them aside. “You have a sight,” he then says. “A special gift that allows you to see things no one else can. Your keen eye for nature and how to care of it shows that.”

“Oh,” you gasp.

“You saw through my magic so you could find me.” He takes off one of his gloves and you see his hand is bony and sharp. 

You glance back up into his eyes. “What are you?” You whisper.

Onjon’s long black hair starts to float around him like you’re underwater, his skin takes on a shimmering bluish purple color and his eyes shift to a bright raspberry color. “I was once human,” he cups your face between his bare palms, “like you.” He tilts his head slightly, his cheek bones have grown sharper and there is a glow coming from his chest. “But I’ve become corrupted by my craft.”

You lick your lips and sit up. “Did you cause this storm?” You ask.

Onjon nods. “I did.”

“Did you mean for me to get hurt?” You ask with a frown.

“That wasn’t part of it. I just wanted to get you alone for a moment.” His robe slips away from his bony shoulders and you see the glow from his chest comes from his heart. “So we could talk.”

You press your palm over his heart and feel it shudder. The pulse picks up and you kiss him there. Onjon moans and pushes you back gently.

“You’re not afraid?” He asks. His eyes have become sunken and his cheeks are more hollow, but he still looks the same to you.

“If anything,” you murmur, “I think you look even sexier.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest. “Be careful,” he whispers. “You wouldn’t want me getting excited.”

You open up your robe and expose your naked breasts to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His bony fingers trail on your skin, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. “My stamina isn’t like a mortal’s anymore,” he snarls. “I may not be able to stop.”

You chomp down on your lip as he removes the robe from your body. He leans down, kissing you and licking your skin. You lay back against the sofa and he pulls your hips forward so he can fit his slim waist between your thighs.

You chuckle and bite your lip. “What are you doing?”

His expression relaxes and his mouth drops slightly. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “Do you not like this?” He sits back a bit. “Do I feel weird?”

“No,” you reach out and pull him back. “I’m just surprised you’re being so forward. Why would you feel weird?”

Onjon’s cheeks darken and he tilts his chin down. “I don’t exactly have an attractive body.” 

You tug him down so he slips a bit and falls on top of you. His body presses against yours, he feels thin and bony but his body is strangely warm. You push your hands under the robe and rub down his sides and back. His spine has spikes jutting out and you graze your fingertips against each one. You then open his robe, letting both your naked bodies rub against one another.

Onjon hides his face in the curve of your neck and moans darkly. His fingers dig into the sofa and his body hunches over yours. His lips drag against your skin and he snarls into your ear as he tries to breathe.

You giggle and lick his neck before cupping your mouth around his throat. “Mm,” you moan for him. “Oh,” you then gasp and a grin blossoms on your face. “Why, Mr. Onjon, what is that on my stomach?”

Onjon gasps as he chuckles. “No, no, wait,” he moans. “We mustn’t.”

You grab hold of him, feeling how rigid and hard his cock is. Onjon moans out loud and his body trembles. “If you keep torturing me like this, I’m going to teach you a lesson, young lady.” He glares at you, his eyes leaving trails in the dark air.

You meet his gaze, continuing to stroke him. He’s long and curved, getting thicker towards the base. Along the shaft, there are sloped ridges and on the top, there feels to be nice little bumps. Onjon’s gaze becomes glazed the more you touch him and he shudders.

“Are you sure you want this?” Onjon moans. “An old fool like me?”

You slip your hand away and then wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight. “An old fool, maybe,” you moan, “but I’ve never wanted anyone so badly.” You hook your leg around his thigh. “I can’t explain it, but I’ve not been able to get you out of my mind since we met.”

Onjon sighs and you feel his cock slide against your folds. “So wet,” he pants. He rises up and looks down. He glides his cock along your lips, watching and listening. Your slit squishes at his pressures, coating him in wetness, and he only excites you more. The tip hits against your clit and just when you think he’s going to push inside, he only pulls away again. It feels good, his teasing and tormenting, but you would give anything to feel him deep inside you.

Onjon dips his tip inside again and just when you think he’s going to take the plunge, he pulls away again. You cry out in frustration and grab hold of his arms. 

You grit your teeth and snarl. “If you don’t do it now, I’ll push you down!” 

“Oh my,” Onjon brushes his fingers along your lips. “Such a forceful young lady.” He presses his fingers onto your tongue. 

You grab his wrist and sit up. You then grab a fistful of his long, beautiful hair and yank on it. Onjon’s moan is sweet and cautious. You then shove him down, pushing him so he’s leaning back against the sofa. Keeping his hair in your fist, you pin him down and straddle your thighs around his waist.

“Oh no,” Onjon breathes, “what are you going to do to me?”

You kiss him as you slide back, feeling his cock press against your slit. “I’m going to ride you.” You gasp longingly as you sit down upon him. You spear yourself over his cock and tug his hair to make him watch.

“It’s so much better this way.” You grind him inside with a roll of your hips. “So much!” You throw your head back as you arch your back and rise up.

Onjon’s hands carress up your body until he’s holding your waist. He squeezes you as you move and he sighs and moans. 

You yank his hair hard again, smashing his face between your breasts and you ride him. His hands claw up your back and tickle the nape of your neck. You gasp and shudder, squeezing tight around him. His fingers then slide down, rubbing your clit. A few strokes and you’re done for. You cry out and spasm, jerking as you push him down on the sofa again.

You pull away and his cock is still hard and soaked by your cum. As you sit back and catch your breath, Onjon stands and picks you up in his arms. He carries you silently to his bedroom where he lays you back on the bed.

“I’m not done yet,” you gasp.

“Neither am I.” Onjon pulls all his hair to one side. “Go ahead, take hold.”

You wrap his hair around your fist and pull him down towards you. “Hurry it up then.” You kiss him as he moves between your thighs. His cock slips back into place and you roll your hips to meet his thrusts.

You fear Onjon shows no signs of stopping. You’ve been brought to the edge so many times and each time, Onjon brings you back. You are weak but don’t want to give in, not until Onjon has found his pleasure too. 

“When will you cum?” You mewl to him. His chest is on your back as you lay on your side. His arm is around you and your leg is pulled back over his hips.

“Is that what you want?” Onjon kisses and bites your neck. “You want me to cum?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Oh god, I can’t take anymore.”

“You were so forceful before,” Onjon laughs. He moves and lays on his back. “Climb on top of me again,” he pats his hips.

You pout but do as he asks. You ease yourself down upon him as he holds your hands. “How can you last so long?” You shudder as a quick jolt of pleasure fills you.

“I told you before, I don’t have the stamina of a mortal.” He sighs as he watches you move. “But for you, I’ll cum.” He rubs his thumb to your clit. “I’ve been holding back, so there will be a lot for you.”

“Huh?” You gasp. “Onjon-” you gasp when you feel the first surge. It gushes deep and is surprisingly hot. “Wait, oh god-” Onjon’s fingers dig into your hips and he smashes you down on him. You cry out as more of him floods inside you. Onjon snarls and grunts, grinding his hips. Something inside you is tight and full, your belly pooches a little more than usual. He’s not stopping and you quiver around his throbbing shaft.

Onjon eventually gasps and goes limp on the bed. He releases you and you topple onto the bed beside him.

“Wait, wait.” Onjon cups his hand over your mound but his seed is still spilling out. He grabs something from beside the bed and places it under you. Your vision is starting to fade though and soon you drift into a deep sleep.

As you come to, Onjon is humming. He’s sitting next to you in bed, reading. He’s back to his usual visage and wearing his glasses. 

“What?” you grumble.

Onjon sets his book aside and kisses you. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry,” you chuckle. You brush your fingers through his hair. “Did I dream all that or…”

Onjon’s warm kisses and gentle touches slowly wake you more. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he chuckles. He plants a soft kiss to your forehead. “Stay put.”

“Wait.” You look up at him. “What’d you do to me?”

Onjon’s cheeks darken. “A bit too much I’m afraid.” His hands pet down your center. “Are you ok?”

“I liked it so-” You shrug. “All is good.” You sit up and smile at him. “Before something to eat, can we take a bath?”

Onjon tilts his head to the side. “Are you sure? We did quite a lot this afternoon. A meal might be better before a bath. Even just a snack. I have hot water all ready for tea too.”

You smile up at him, feeling a warmth rush through you better than his release. 

“What?” He touches his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you giggle. “No, I mean…” You grin again. “You make me feel happy. I like looking at you.”

Onjon’s smile is soft and sweet. He holds your hand tenderly and kisses your knuckles. “I haven’t felt this way in so long,” he whispers. “This feeling of safeness and belonging. Really, I haven’t been able to perform like this since my change took hold.” He cups your cheek in his palm. “In a way, you were my first.”

“Lucky me.” You kiss him lovingly as you hug him close. “You never told me exactly what that is,” you murmur. “What are you, Mr. Onjon?” You giggle. “What makes you so sweet and irresistible?”

Onjon chuckles. “I’m a Lich,” he murmurs to you. “And you should know, liches usually never submit ourselves to anyone.” He then grins. “But when you take my hair in your fist, I will bend all to you.” He then presses his fingertip to your lips. “But now, I must insist you bend to mine and eat something!”

You kiss his fingertip. “Of course.”

Onjon chuckles and kisses your forehead. “I’ll get the tub started too. After you eat something, we’ll relax.”

“Sounds lovely,” you sigh. “My legs are quite sore.”

“Mine too,” Onjon stands up and puts a robe on. “But I think I rather like the sensation.”