Dullahan Boyfriend Graer (complete)

    For as long as you can remember, there has been a strange box that your mother keeps. She has it displayed above the fireplace on a mantel that no one can reach without getting a chair or stepladder. You never paid much attention to it. It was just a box really. It was black with gold filigree all over it. Nothing special, so you just kind of ignored it for years.

    Well, then your mother passed away. You were left with the old house and everything in it. Being the only child, you were prepared for this to happen. You just weren’t ready for it. The first few days, you just kind of existed in the house. Going through routines and paths that were so ingrained in your muscle memory you could walk through the old house with your eyes closed.

    You were a late in life child, your father died before even knowing you were conceived. Your mother never really recovered after having you, but she still worked hard to give you a good life. You were able to go to school and not worry, all because of her. She was the biggest component of your life, and now she was gone.

    One day, as you’re starting to come to your senses again, you look up at the box, far up on the mantle. Your mother was so particular, she always kept everything dusted and neat. Everything! And she had so many knickknacks and curios it was astounding. You look around, seeing a fine layer of dust on everything. To your horror, you realize your mother must be rolling over in her grave right now.

    Immediately, you set to work. You go through the entire house, dusting and cleaning, giving everything the polish and shine your mother used to. You work your way back into the living room, and you climb up onto a chair to clean the box above the fireplace.  You take it from the shelf and are stunned by how heavy it is. It isn’t made of wood as you thought, but iron.  

    You try to clean it while holding it, but the heft of it makes it hard to grasp. The box slips from your fingers and crashed down onto the floor with a loud thud. 

    “What the fuck?” You hear someone yell.

    You gasp and look around. Then you remember, you’re in a house on the ground floor. There’s a basement, but no one is down there, hopefully. You also don’t have any neighbors. So, just who the hell said that?”

    “Did you drop me?” The voice snarls again.

    You glance down at the box, seeing a red glow coming from the crack of the lid. 

    Your mouth opens then you close it again as you step off the chair. “Yes?”

    The box rattles and you hear a low growling sound from inside. You reach down to pick the box up, but it’s far too hot to touch. You reel back, hissing and fanning your hands in the air. 

    “All these years,” the voice inside the box growls. “You keep me trapped here all these years and now, you drop me.”

    You furrow your brow, watching the box. You see the lock on it is twitching back and forth from the hook. “I didn’t mean to,” you murmur.

    They laugh from inside the box. “That’s really rich, Matilda!”

    “I’m not Matilda,” you chirp. “That’s my mom.”

    The voice goes silent. “Well, where the fuck is she?”

    You glare down at the box, feeling a heavy weight on your chest. “She died,” You grumble. “About a week ago.” Even admitting it is painfully hard.

    The voice is silent then scoffs. “That really takes the wind out of my sales,” it snarls. “I wanted to kill her.”

    You glare at the box. “That’s my mom, asshole!”

    “Oh, I’m sorry, did she steal your head and lock in a box too? Is that why you’re so fucking clumsy and dropped me?” The voice hisses. “I was better off asleep!”

    You grab one of the pokers from the fireplace and strike it over the box. “I don’t know why you’re in that box, but from the way you talk it sounds like you deserved it.”

    The voice scoffs. “From how I sound? Wow, way to judge, brat.”

    You strike the box again, and the voice inside screams. Flames shoot out from under the lid, and you lunge back, using a seat cushion to protect yourself. 

    “Let me out right now!” They scream. “I may have enough time to catch your mother’s soul on her way to hell to take care of her myself!”

    “No!” You snap at it. “Why should I?”

    They snarl. “Because I said so!”

    I glare and take the bucket of water I had been using to clean, and I dump it over the box. From inside they scream and then suddenly go quiet.

    I hit the box with the poker again and when there is no reaction I use towels to pick up the box and set it on the hearth in front of the fireplace.

    That night as I’m sitting in my room I hear the voice again.

    “Kid,” they hiss. “Hey. Kid! Hey! Yoo-hoo?” 

    I glance to the door and then back at my book. 

    The voice then starts screaming bloody murder, so I jump out of bed and rush into the living room. 

    “What?” I snap down at the box.

    “Look,” they chuckle, “we got off to a rough start. I was woken up from a decade's long nap, rather rudely too.”

    You scowl down at the box. “I’m not letting you out.

    “Oh come on!” They snarl from inside. “Why not?”

    “For one, you’re kind of an asshole, and for two, my mother obviously has you in there for a reason! I don’t even know what you are,” you scoff. “For all I know, you’re ‘hope’ in Pandora’s box and when I let you out the world would end.”

    They sigh. “Oh god, I wish.”

    You roll your eyes. “You’re staying in that box until I can figure out what to do with you. You might as well just fall back asleep.”

    “No chance,” they hiss. 

    You squat down in front of the box. “What are you?” You ask. “A demon? Some sort of monsters?”

    He chuckles. “You should just open me and find out.”

    “Oh come on,” you scoff. “You’re better than that.”

    “Eh, true,” he huffs. “Still, you should do it. I’ll leave you alone and never come back. Trust me, I want as little to do with this place as possible.”

    I huff. “I can’t,” you huff. “If my mom locked you up-”

    “Oh my god,” he whines. “Shut up about your mom!”

    You take the poker and strike the box again and stand back up. “I’m going to be, keep quiet.”

    You go back to your room, but the creature in the box doesn’t shut up. All night he screams and shouts. You keep your pillows firmly planted on your head, but you can still hear him. You sigh and go to the bathroom. You fill up the tub with water, and then you go and fetch the box.

    “Are you going to let me out now?” He asks.

    You walk into the bathroom. “No,” you set the box down in the filled tub and go back to your room where you fall asleep.

    Come morning, you go about your business. You make coffee and breakfast, and when you go to the bathroom, you drain the tub.

    As the water drains the voice in the box starts to growl.

    “Good night?” You ask as you wash your face.

    “What sort of fucked up-” they pant. “How could you- all night I was….” they stall and snarl.

    “That what you get for screaming all night,” you snap at them. “Remember that, or you’re going back into the bathtub tonight.”

    “Just let me out!” They whine.

    “No!” You snap. “Stop asking!”

    You set the box outside that afternoon, letting it dry out. When you go outside to fetch it, you hear him singing. The song is soft and gentle, somewhat sad. You don’t understand what he’s saying, but his voice is rich and deep.

    “What is that?” You ask.

    “Fuck off in Gaelic!” He snarls.

    You sigh and sit down on the porch. In front of the house, your mother has a pumpkin patch that comes back every year. Already, fat orange orbs are growing in the field as the colored leaves fall to the ground.

    “Tell me why my mother trapped you,” you reply. “Maybe if I hear the story, I’ll take pity.” I glance at the box. “Who are you?”

    “Jack in the box,” he snips.

    “No, really,” you scoff.

    He grumbles under his breath and then sighs. “See that patch over there?” He replies. “The pumpkin one? That’s my grave.”

    You flinch and look back at the box. “Grave?”

    The voice laughs. “Well, my body is there anyway,” he sneers. “The reason there are even pumpkins there at all is because of me.”

    “Ew,” you mutter when you think of all the pumpkin pies your mother made.

    He sniffs. “She separated my head from my body and commanded me into the ground,” his voice is dark and severe. 

    “But why?” You insist. “Surely she didn’t do it for the joke of it all.”

    He huffs. “Who knows?” He growls. “All I was doing was my job.”

    “And what was your job?” You ask. “Eating puppies?”

    He scoffs. “Ew. No.” He then grumbles again. “I bring death.”

    I look back down at the box. “Then there is no way in hell I’m letting you out now!”

    “Kid! Kid! Kid!” They snap at me. “Death is natural. Death happens. And I don’t do it just because I can. I do it because that is what I’m supposed to do. You can’t stop death.”

    “My mom did apparently,” you mutter under your breath.

    “Say that to my face, you brat!” The voice snaps.

    You stand up and go back inside with the voice screaming after you. You go into your mother’s room and take out the manila envelope the lawyer gave you. You hid it, unable to open it until now. Inside, there are dozens of letters from your mother. All of them for you, written by her while you had been away at school. She had asked you to read them immediately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

    Now, you sit on the bed, hoping to find the answers to the talking box.

    That evening, you go back out onto the porch and bring the box back inside. 

    “About time,” it scoffs.

    You set it down on the table and sigh. “Graer,” you mutter.

    “How do you know that?” he snaps.

    You huff. “It was in the letter my mom wrote me,” you reply. You have it in your hand still. “She says your name is Graer and you’re a Dullahan.”

    Grare is surprisingly silent. 

    “My mom had told me not to touch the box at all but, I didn’t read the letters until just now.” You sit down at the table. “She said you were sent to kill me.”

    Gare is still quiet.

    You look at the box. “She said that you’re a curse on our family. That any male child born into it, you’d kill.”

    Grare scoffs. “Why are you worried? I’m not going to kill you.”

    “I’m not a woman,” you snap at it.

    “I know,” Graer replies. “I’m not stupid.”

    You hesitate, narrowing your eyes on the box. “How can you tell I’m nonbinary?”

    “Just can,” Graer huffs. “You’re the last of your line. I’ve done my job.”

    You lean back, looking at Graer’s box. “I can still have kids,” you reply. “Don’t you want to kill them?”

    “You’re a brat, who’d want to mate with you?” Graer snarks.

    You sigh and shrug. “Fair enough.” You hold up the key that goes to the lock on Graer’s box. “What’ll happen when I let you out? Now that you can’t plague my family anymore?”

    “Probably just keep hassling you until you die. I won’t be free until that happens.”

    You take the lock, slipping the key inside. You unlock the box and open, peering inside you see a skull. You take it out, and fire glows in the eye sockets.

    “Boo,” Graer then cackles.

    “Ha,” you reply unenthusiastically. You carry him outside, watching as the pumpkin patch starts to move and grow. It rises up, making an arch. The ground shifts, opening up and a hand reaches out. It’s skeletal but the more it moves more flesh appears on it. It lifts from the ground and stands there, it stretches and the back bows.

    “Oh great,” you sigh. “You’re naked.”

    “I’ve been underground for longer than you’ve been alive, of course, my clothes rotted away.” Graer snarls.

    The naked body of Graer approached you. He’s tall with a thick build, his skin is dark blue and flecked with shimmering silver hair. You also can’t help but notice that, even while soft, his cock looks pretty big.

    Graer snacks his skull from your hands. “Quit staring pervert.” He sets his skull on his head. Immediately, hair starts to sprout, and flesh grows back. Dark, wide eyes soon gaze down at you while long, silver hair flows in the breeze.

    “Ok, bye,” you wave and turn to go back inside.

    Grare grabs you, grasping your wrist. “Not so easy.”

    You turn and look back at him. “What? Aren’t you free now? You can go.”

    He smirks, leaning down towards you. “I told you, I’m not leaving you alone.”

    You frown at him and pull your arm back. “At least put pants on.”

    Every evening when the sun sets, Graer rises out of the pumpkin patch, riding on the back of a monstrous black horse. For a while, it was a shocking sight, but soon it became your norm. You would take him a cup of hot coffee or cider and then feed his horse, Hourling, an apple or whatever you had on hand.

    “Hourling isn’t a pet!” Graer snarls as you feed the beastly creature sugar cubes.

    “But he likes them,” you say. You then place a sugar cube on your tongue, and you tug Graer down, kissing him. He sucks your tongue and moans as you pull away.

    “See,” you pant. “They’re good.”

    Graer’s black eyes look dazed, and he’s drooling slightly. He wipes his mouth and sneers down at you. “You think you’re cute, don’t you brat?”

    You place another sugar cube on your tongue. “I know I am.”

    Graer’s lip curls over his teeth, and he grabs you, kissing you hard again. He grabs you, groping your rear and kneading his strong fingers into your flesh.

    “You annoy the hell out of me,” he hisses into your ear. “I’m going to work all my frustration into this supposedly ‘cute’ body.”

    You feel an electric jolt of excitement jolt through your body. “Awful big words for a guy whose head falls off.” You pluck his head from his neck, kissing him and then shoving his head into your shirt. He bites you as you walk away, his body chasing after you, running into a few things along the way.

    He catches you on the porch, yanking his head from your shirt and shoving you down on the wicker sofa.

    “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” he snarls.

    You smirk. “Oh, I’m so scared of the guy my mom kept in a box.”

    Graer shoves his fingers into your mouth, pressing them onto your tongue. He rips open your shirt and bites you, tugging away your pants and exposing you to the cold night air. 

    He places his head between your legs, and you moan as you feel his tongue at your tight pucker. His body holds you down, stroking your cock as his tongue pushes inside you. Graer snarls and moans, slurping and sighing. You suck on his fingers, gazing up at his neck where wisps of black smoke are coming out. You gently bite his fingers tips, and they slip out. 

    “Graer,” you mewl. “Oh fuck, oh fuck-” you shiver. Your nipples are hard and aching and when his fingers brush against them your entire body jerks. 

    Graer chuckles and he places his head back onto his neck. “Your body is very receptive,” he licks his lips. “I like that.” He lays his cock on your belly, rubbing it against yours. “You are pretty cute for a brat though.”

    He slips his fingers inside you, teasing you. You whimper, back arching off the sofa. You move your hips, wanting to feel more. You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

    Graer snarls, pulling his fingers out. “You think you deserve this?”

    You smirk up at him as you reach down and stroke his cock. “Do you?”

    Graer growls, moving and rubbing the tip of his dick at your pucker. You suck in a sharp breath and brace yourself. You moan out as he pushes inside you, stretching your tight hole as he stuffs you. 

    “Oh my god,” you whisper.

    Graer cups his hand over your mouth. “Just you wait.” He starts to move, his thrusts go deep and hard. Your body jolts with each well-timed buck. Graer snarls and growls, he then pulls out and grabs you, tossing you over his shoulder.

    “No, wait!” You whine. “Why’d you stop?”

    “The fucking wicker is killing my knees,” he carries you inside and lays you on your stomach on the kitchen table. He strokes his hand down your back and places soft kisses on your skin. You shiver and sigh, clinging to the tablecloth as he moves back between your legs.

    He’s soon back inside you, and once he’s moving again, the table is pressed against the kitchen counter. You cry out, as he moves inside you. You grunt and mewl, loving how he feels. He’s so big and hits all the right spots.

    He’s going hard and fast, snarling as he does. His thick fingers dig into your hips and his breathing echoes in your ears.

    You then feel the rush of waves in your body, you cry out, and your cum spills all over the floor.

    Graer chuckles darkly. “Who said you could cum?” He snarls into your ear. “You’ll pay for that.”

    You whimper, gasping as he spanks your ass. You glance back at him, watching his hand come down on you.

    “Graer,” you mewl. “Graer.”

    He stills as you say his name, he pants and then rakes his head off. He places it before you, and you kiss him. You moan and whimper into his mouth. He whispers to you and bites your lip. Graer then grunts and moans. His breath shudders and you feel him twitching inside you. 

    He stuffs you full, making your belly feel tight. He lays you on the cold kitchen floor, letting you use his arm as a pillow. You cuddle up beside him, kissing his chest and leaving a love bruises on his neck. 

    “I’m not done,” Graer snarls. “I still have a lot of frustration to pump into that cute ass.” He pants.

    You giggle and kiss him. “I love you too, asshole.”

    He grabs you, pulling you on top of him. “Brat.” He strokes your cheek. “You think saying that will save you?” He kisses you, hard and loving. 

    You giggle, gazing into his dark eyes. “Didn’t it?”

    Graer huffs, picking you up and carrying you to bed. He lays down beside you, but come morning he’ll return to the pumpkin patch. You hold on to him, wanting him to stay longer than that.

    “I love you,” he whispers, thinking you’re asleep. “No matter what you were, I’d love you. Man or woman, it doesn’t matter. You’d still be a brat. You’d still take my heart.” He kisses the top of your head as you continue to pretend to sleep.

    “The end of the line,” he murmurs. “I was always meant to meet you.” He rubs your back and lets it rest on your rear. “I was always fated for you.”

    You sit up, letting the blanket fall from your body. “Why’d it take you so long?”

    He scowls at you. “I knew you were faking.”

    You kiss him and crawl on top of him. “Then why did you say all that?”

    He reaches up, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb across your lips. “Because I wanted you to hear it, brat.”

    You smile and kiss his finger. “I love you too.”

    You dip down, meeting his warm kiss and he rolls you over into the bed, pinning you down with his strong body. “You best be glad morning is soon,” he snarls. “Or I’d be making sure you couldn’t walk in the morning.”

    “Just hold me then,” you put your arms around him, letting his head rest on your chest. You kiss the top of his head and smile. “We always have the night,” you whisper. “You’re mine then.”