Chapter Text
“She bit your ear?”
“Yeah, last night. While I was sleeping. It woke me up. I had to shove her off me, she was latched on my head like a suckerfish. The crazy thing is, she swears she didn't! She was completely blacked out, I guess, she doesn't remember doing it.”
“Jesus, Paul,” Bill said with a grimace.
Paul rubbed at his ear, drawing his fingers over the harsh, red bite marks. Emma hadn't broken the skin, but it had still hurt.
“She had this… fainting episode the other day, too, when I went to run errands. I came home and she had a bandage on her forehead, said she passed out and smacked her head on the front window.” He dragged his hand down his face. “I took her to Urgent Care, because head trauma can be really serious, Emma! They said she was fine, just suggested she take it easy for a bit, but… I'm still worried. I've never seen her like this before.”
“You think she's losing her mind or something?” Ted asked, leaning against the cubicle wall.
“No, Ted, I just- I don't know.” Paul sighed. “We had a really weird, bad hike on Friday. I guess I'm worried that has something to do with it, like it messed her up somehow.”
“Bad how?” Charlotte poked her head into Paul's cubicle. “What happened?”
“She took me hiking in the witchwood, and we got turned around. We didn't have a map, Emma said she knew the woods well enough. She didn't know this part, she swore the detour we took led to the river. Neither of us knew where we were. She saw these… I don't know, weird pig-nosed statues with carvings in them, and thought they might lead us back to the trail.”
The statues were old and nature-worn, it was hard to tell what they were meant to be of. And neither Paul nor Emma recognized the symbols carved in them. Each one had an appendage sticking out, pointing in one direction or another. Emma had said it felt intentional, like they were meant for people who got lost. To guide them back to safety. Paul thought the statues were creepy, he hadn't wanted to follow them. But with no service and no map, there were no other options.
“It started to rain,” Paul continued, “and I ended up slipping and falling down a hole. I caught myself on the opening and Emma tried to pull me back out, but I lost my grip and pulled her down with me, into this awful underground cave. I hit the ground, and Emma fell into this reservoir down there."
The splash had terrified Paul, as he scrambled onto his hands and knees and watched the water for any sign of Emma. She had surfaced with a sputtering gasp. Paul rushed to the edge of the reservoir and grabbed for her hands as she swam towards him. Planting his feet firm on the ground, he pulled her back onto land. She'd coughed and hacked, wiping her mouth and complaining she had swallowed some of the water.
“I got her out, she was okay, but, God it was horrible down there. It was wet and dark, it stank, and I swear there were times I thought the walls were moving. There was another one of those statues in there, and… it looked like some building had collapsed there ages ago. An old church, maybe, I think I saw pews. It gave me a really bad feeling. I just know bad things have happened down there.”
Paul glanced around at his coworkers, all staring at him with various degrees of concern and shock.
“Jesus Christ,” said Ted. “You sure you didn't fall into Hell?”
Paul cleared his throat.
“Anyway, uh, it was too muddy and wet to climb back out, so we had to wait out the rain. We ended up falling asleep down there, and when I woke up Emma was having a panic attack. She said the cave was breathing, she could feel it.”
Paul had never seen Emma so scared. She could barely breathe, saying she could feel the cave with every inhale. Paul held her close and soothed her, rubbing her back, having her focus on him and his breathing instead of the cave. It had taken a little while, but she eventually calmed down. At that point it was dry and light enough to climb out. They'd had to peel their legs apart - tree sap or something had stuck Emma's leg to Paul's in the night - but after that, they made it out of the cave.
“And Emma's been… off, ever since.” Paul pushed his hand through his hair. “I don't know if the experience triggered something, some kind of old trauma from her time backpacking, maybe? But something's wrong and I don't know what.”
“She's probably possessed,” Ted said with a dismissive shrug. “Ditch her before her head starts spinning and she vomits pea soup on you, man.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Ted, really helpful.”
“Well, I don't blame you for being worried,” Bill said. “This whole thing sounds like a nightmare."
“Yeah. She's taking some time off work to rest, though, so I'm hoping that'll help. She probably just needs the recovery time, right?”
“Sure,” Bill said with a comforting smile and a nod. “I'm sure it'll be fine.”
Silence hung in the air for an uncomfortably long moment. Paul cleared his throat again, planted his hands on his desk, and stood up.
“Anyway. I'm gonna run to the Java Cafe for some coffee. Anyone want anything?”
“No, thanks,” said Charlotte.
“I'm good,” said Bill.
“Get me a chai iced tea, eh?” Ted requested.
Paul gave a nod. “Can do.”
On his way through the office, Paul caught eyes with his boss, who gave him a wide, crooked, toothy smile and a thumbs-up. Paul returned it awkwardly.
He headed down the hall and to the elevator. He hit the call button and tapped his foot as he waited, and following the telltale ding the doors slid open and he nearly ran straight into Emma.
She was standing in the elevator. Her hair was unwashed and greasy, and she still wore her lounge clothes - sweatpants and an old, oversized, 3-11 t-shirt. Her face was pallid, drenched in a sickly sheen of sweat. The shadowed bags under her eyes were dark and heavy, her breathing shallow. She looked awful.
“Emma?!”
“Paul.” A relieved smile stretched across her face, and she surged towards him with the desperation of someone lost in the desert finding an oasis. “Hi.”
Paul grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her back slightly. She pushed against him with frustrated whine, unhappy that he was denying her. She wanted a hug. She wanted to collapse into his chest, feel his heartbeat against her ear. She wanted him to hold her, close and tight, and feel his touch around every inch of her body. He was so warm, and she felt so cold. She wanted his warmth. She needed it, like she needed air in her lungs. She didn't know why, but it was all she could think about.
He was all she could think about. This empty, sick feeling had started when he left this morning. She tried to lay down, but it didn't help. She tried to vomit, and nothing came up. Her heart ached with longing to see him, and at first she'd thought it was just because she felt so miserable, she wanted him to come home and comfort her. She'd thought about his fingers combing gently through her sweaty hair. How he'd lay her head in his lap and tell her it was okay. Emma had never loved tenderness before him, but she craved it from Paul.
And then the ache in her body got worse.
It nagged at her, pulling in the back of her mind. She was sick because he was gone. It didn't make sense, but her body knew the truth. She was pulling herself off the sofa, out the door, and wandering down the block before she knew what she was doing.
It consumed her, this burning itch to be with him. Her mind was clouded in a heavy, dizzy fog, and the only clear thought was Paul, Paul, Paul.
He held her away, though. She grabbed onto his arms, settling for some form of touch. Her palms tingled. Her legs felt a little more steady.
“Emma, what are you doing here?!” Paul kept his panic to a hushed whisper. “You're supposed to be at home! You didn't drive, did you?”
Emma shook her head. “I walked.”
“Why?!”
“I…” Emma trailed off, feverish and confused.
She knew something was wrong with her. She knew this wasn't normal. She looked down at her hands wrapped around Paul's arms - that touch was the only thing that made sense to her right now. Hoping to ground herself, she squeezed Paul's arms, and felt a rush of pure euphoria surge through her from their contact point. She shuddered, her eye twitching.
“I need you.”
“Okay.” Paul started to walk backwards, ushering Emma back down the hall with him. “Okay, Emma, come with me. Let's sit down for a minute.”
He walked them towards the break room. She nodded loosely, agreeing in her hazy mind that sitting down was a good idea, as her hand reached out of its own accord. Her body knew what she really needed. Her hand wrapped around Paul's tie, pulling him down towards her as she leaned forward, coming together in a clumsy kiss.
The feeling that burst through Emma's body when her lips met Paul's was powerful and irresistible. A magnetic surge of satisfaction, a strong, pounding pulse of unknowable pleasure. A painful hunger momentarily sated. A pathetic, needy moan ripped from her throat and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him to her.
Paul melted into the kiss, his eyes fluttering closed and his hands coming to cup Emma's face. The sound of her moan lit a fire in his stomach, and sent a pulse of aching pleasure straight to his crotch. He sighed against her.
Then he remembered where they were.
He pulled back, his face bright red. “Right now? I'm at work, Emma.”
The air felt like needles without his touch.
“So? You barely do your job anyway, you can take a minute for me.” Her hands pressed against Paul's chest. Her eyes were hazy, but the color had returned to her face. “I feel like I'm fucking starving, Paul. It aches. It aches fucking bad. It's like, this… full-body hunger.”
She leaned up on her toes, kissing his neck. Paul's knees were weak. He held Emma by the hips, shivering as her teeth nipped his collar.
“I'm hungry for you,” she mumbled against his skin. “I fucking need you, Paul. I need you now.”
Her hand drifted down to press against his crotch. She palmed him through his pants, feeling him beginning to strain. Paul groaned.
“Fuck…”
His face burned. This was working on him. It was hot to be so wanted. He glanced around frantically, and when he saw no one was around, he grabbed Emma's hand and pulled her into the men's bathroom. He locked them in the nearest stall.
"Emma-" he began.
She grabbed his tie and pulled him to her, backing up so she was sandwiched between Paul and the door. Whatever he'd wanted to say disappeared from his mind as he fell into her rhythm, melting into their kiss, grabbing her hips and holding her closer.
“Paul…” she moaned, unrestrained.
His touch felt incredible, the weight of his body pressing her against the stall door smothering and grounding in a way she couldn't get enough of. She wanted him to press into her until his body melted into hers.
Paul slipped his hand easily beneath the waistband of Emma's sweatpants, rubbing her through her panties. Emma's hips bucked into the touch. She squirmed, whining for him like he'd never seen before.
It was kind of intoxicating.
“Emma,” he murmured softly, kissing her neck. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I need you.”
Her hands wandered, touching every inch of Paul she could reach. She frantically tugged his shirt loose, fumbling to undo the buttons so she could reach his skin. Her hips strained, grinding into his hand. Her brain had shut down. Her body was in control, and what it wanted was Paul, Paul, Paul.
“I'm here, baby.” His voice was a gentle husk. “I'll take care of you.”
Paul's thumb hooked the waistband of Emma's panties. She shuddered violently.
“Touch me,” she whimpered, and her desperation would've been humiliating if she wasn't so brainlessly horny. “Touch me, touch me, touch me!”
Paul plunged his hand into her panties, rubbing along the soaked folds of her pussy. She was unbelievably wet. Paul's fingers sank easily inside her.
“Fuuuuuck!” She droned out, rolling her hips against him.
As he thrust his hand into her, Emma grabbed his face and pulled him in for a long, hard kiss. She braced her hands against his back, holding him close and moaning into his mouth. He swallowed every sound, pumping his fingers inside her faster.
“Emma…” he mumbled.
They kissed, deep and passionate, and as Paul pulled back to look at her, a harsh sting tugged against his lower lip. His lip was caught by Emma's, stuck together for a brief moment before snapping harshly apart.
“Unh,” he groaned, thinking it had been a love bite.
He tucked into Emma's neck, sucking a bruise into her collar. His other hand slipped beneath her shirt, finding and squeezing her breast. He teased her stiff nipple with his thumb, as his tongue soothed the bruise at her neck.
“Mmh,” Emma hummed, feeling like her body was glowing.
Tipping her head back against the stall door, Emma drifted her hands along Paul's torso and down to his waist, fumbling with his belt. After a minute she freed his hard cock from his briefs, stroking him over to hear him whine. He pulled his fingers out of her, and in one motion her sweatpants were pooled at her ankles on the floor, baring her to the cool air. She stepped out of them, leaving them off to the side. Crouched in front of her, Paul kissed her thighs softly, thumbing her clit in slow, agonizing circles.
“Paul, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind,” she growled, knitting her fingers into his hair and pulling him upwards.
“Okay, gimme a sec,” he said, laughing a bit.
He lifted one of her legs up to give himself easier access. Emma leaned her weight back against the stall door, biting her lip as Paul pressed the tip of his cock against her. Steadying his free hand on her ass, he pushed inside her slick, hungry cunt. Emma's body sang.
This was it, this was what she needed. It felt so good, so right. Their bodies were meant for this. Nothing would ever be more right than Paul buried inside Emma like this. She clenched around him, holding him deep. Her hands under his shirt, she braced her grip against his shoulders, like she could pull him closer. Deeper inside her. Her fingers dug hard into his skin.
“Fuck, Paul!”
“Mmh, Emma…”
Paul thrust inside her, gripping her ass tight. He buried his face in her neck, his kisses hot and clumsy. Emma's rough grip clawing into his skin sent heat pulsing in his middle. He thrust harder, deeper.
“Is that good?” He mumbled, words slurring against Emma's hot skin.
“Mhm,” Emma nodded loosely, pulling him up to her lips. “My good boy…”
“Nnh, I'm your good boy…”
Emma shoved her tongue into Paul's mouth. He accepted it greedily, wanting to taste every inch of her. It was hard to stay focused on fucking her, the overwhelming taste and feeling of her lips, her tongue, her teeth. Her hands on his back, the harsh sting of her nails digging into his shoulders. It was so much. So good.
He drove his hips deep, feeling her clench hard around him.
“God, I love you,” he murmured.
He kissed her hard, feeling the sting of what had to be her bite again. With a pleased hum, he pulled back playfully. Their lips stuck together a moment longer, the snap of separation hurting a little more this time.
Heat pooled in Paul's stomach and he fucked harder into Emma. She melted between his body and the stall door, her foot sliding across the tile floor as she let Paul support her entirely. He held her close and steady, fucking her deep. The clumsy but rhythmic piston of his cock inside her was so perfectly satisfying, so relentlessly delectable. She could feel every thrust all over her body, every nerve aglow with unknowable ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, eyelids fluttering. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, but the only sound she could manage was a choked “ah, ah…”
He wasn't in quite the same state as Emma, but Paul was still thoroughly clouded with lust. Emma's body against him, the harsh grip of her nails digging into his skin, her hot breath. Her wonderful, beautiful moans. It felt so good to be needed like this, to know that he could do this to her. He made her feel this good. He never wanted to stop, he'd fuck her in this bathroom forever if he could.
It felt so good to be inside her like this. She was so wet her pussy made a squelching sound that made his ears buzz pleasantly. She melted beneath him, clenching hard around him with every thrust, squeezing his cock so deliciously. He wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer, she'd pull his orgasm from him soon.
“Em,” he huffed. “Close.”
Emma nodded, her fingers pushing painfully into his shoulders. Somehow the harder she dug into his skin, the better she felt. The more intense her pleasure burned. She could rip his skin open and discover new heights of sexual euphoria unknown to womankind.
Pleasure flared in Paul's core, the harsh sting of pain indistinguishable from the hot, pulsing ecstasy of their sex. He fucked her into the stall door. Neither were lucid enough to hear the rhythmic clang filling the bathroom, consumed entirely by each other.
Face buried in Emma's shoulder, Paul's hips stuttered, thrusting hard as the knot of pleasure in his stomach unraveled. With a heady, broken moan, he strained against her. Emma's eyes crossed at the feeling of Paul cumming inside her. It pushed her over the edge, a primal, animal moan ripping from her throat, as she came so hard her vision went white.
Sweaty foreheads pressed together, they both panted through the aftershocks. Paul came back to himself first, peppering Emma's face with soft, sloppy kisses.
“I love you,” he mumbled. “God, I love you.”
After a moment more to recover, Emma nosed against Paul's cheek, snickering. “Love you, too. Fuck, that was good, I… I don't remember the last time I came that hard.”
“Good,” Paul said with a grin, leaning in for a long, loving kiss.
Emma kissed back, and when they parted, they took a moment to just breathe together, drinking each other in.
“Okay, I should probably get back to work before someone catches us,” Paul said.
“Boo,” Emma teased.
She steadied her foot on the floor and leaned back against the door. Paul moved to pull out of her, only to feel a tight sting of resistance.
“Ow,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“Gentle, Paul.”
“I know. Let me just…”
He moved his hips back slowly, hoping he could just slide out, but the sting came again. He pulled further back, but it didn't let up. The inner walls of Emma's pussy were tight around his cock, like it was trapping him inside. He pulled harder.
“Ow, Paul!” Emma huffed through clenched teeth.
He looked at her with wide eyes. “I'm stuck.”
“What the fuck do you mean, you're stuck?”
“I mean it won't come out, Emma!”
“You're fucking kidding.”
Paul looked down, horrified. He was not kidding. His dick was stuck inside Emma.
His breathing quickened.
“Okay, calm down, Paul,” Emma tried. “Here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna pull myself open a little wider. That should help, right?”
Paul swallowed. “Okay.”
Emma's arms were wrapped around Paul still, under his shirt, her hands planted firm at the base of his shoulders where they met his back. As she moved to pull her hands back to her, Paul felt a harsh, painful sting in the skin of his shoulders, like she'd scratched him hard with long, sharp nails. The pain didn't feel good anymore.
“Ow, Emma, c'mon.”
Now was Emma's turn to furrow her brow. Her hands were still on Paul's shoulders. She pulled again, harder.
“Ow, Jesus!” Paul cried. “Cool it!”
“I'm not-” Realization struck. “Paul, my fucking hands are stuck.”
Paul shook his head. “No.”
“They are, I can't move.”
Paul was hyperventilating again. Frantically, he shouldered his shirt off to try and see what was happening.
Emma's fingers were inside his skin.
Like she had clawed him open and slid her hands under the flesh, but there was no blood. Just the skin of Paul's shoulders, warping and stretching painfully around Emma's intruding digits. She flexed her hands and his skin rippled around her movement.
A manic laugh burst from Emma at the disgusting sight.
“Holy shit!”
She spread her fingers apart. The taut stretch of Paul's skin looked like webbing between her fingers. Or maybe more accurately, made her fingers look like bat wings. She shuddered, partly out of disgust and partly in response to the small, strange pulse of excitement in her stomach. Some tiny part of her thought this felt good. Being inside his body like this. Emma's laugh was shaky and horrified.
“Get them out,” Paul said, nausea bubbling in his stomach. “Get them out, Emma.”
Emma glared at him. “Get your dick out of me, Paul!”
“Oh God, what do we do?!”
Knock-knock. “Is someone in there?”
Paul's heart dropped into his stomach. “My boss.”
“I heard a commotion, is everything alright?”
The door creaked open.
Emma's mind raced, her heart pounding. There was only one thing she could think to do, but it wasn't going to be fun.
“Don't scream,” she hissed.
“What?!”
“I'm sorry.”
Emma lifted her foot, planting it firm at the side of Paul's pelvis. Leveraging herself against the stall wall, she shoved him away from her as hard as she could. With a shock of searing, white-hot pain, Paul's dick dislodged. Emma's fingers ripped out of his skin. Paul hit the other wall of the bathroom stall hard, the hand clapped over his mouth barely muffling his agonized shriek.
Footsteps approached. “Paul? Is that you?”
Emma jumped up onto the toilet, so her feet wouldn't be visible in the gap between the floor and the stall walls. It would look like only Paul was in there. She tried to steady her breathing so she wouldn't be heard. Her insides burned, she could feel blood trickling down her inner thigh.
Paul staggered upright, dizzy with pain. His dick was rash-red, raw with friction burn. Shakily, he stuffed himself back into his pants, and pulled his shirt back on. He fumbled with his shirt buttons, trying to make himself even remotely presentable.
“Are you okay in there, Paul?”
“Y-yeah!” Paul stammered, panic bubbling in his voice. “I'm- I'll be out in a second, Mr. Davidson!”
He hurriedly fastened the last couple buttons on his shirt. With sinking horror, Emma spotted patches of blood blooming from his shoulders, staining through his white shirt as clear as day. A quick glance at her hands confirmed her fear - chunks of bloody flesh stuck to her fingertips, blood crusted under her nails. Before she could stop him, Paul opened the stall door and slipped out.
He leaned against the stall with a casual facade.
Kendal Davidson looked him up and down. “Is everything alright, Paul?”
Sweat dripped down Paul's forehead. Blood seeped through his shirt. He stammered, “I'm- uh- food poisoning.”
Mr. Davidson raised an eyebrow, eyes flitting to Paul's shoulders for a split second. “You're in here sick with food poisoning?”
“Yes.”
With a brief glance to the stall Paul had just come out of - held closed, with a bunched-up pair of sweatpants sitting on the floor - Mr. Davidson gave a slow nod. The corners of their mouth quirked up into an amused smile. They leaned back on their heels, hands in their pockets, nodding still.
“Right, then, that's what the commotion was all about. Well, in that case you should probably head home early.”
“Okay.” Paul nodded. “Thank you.”
“Sure. You get some rest, Paul.”
“I will. Yep. Thank you.”
With another nod and a wide, toothy smile, Mr. Davidson turned and headed for the door. At the last second, a glance back just in time to see Emma's feet touch the floor confirmed their already-held suspicions.
The door shut.
Emma emerged from the stall as Paul's bloody shoulders sagged with relief. She grabbed a wad of paper towel and wiped away the jizz and blood dripping down her thigh, before pulling her panties and sweatpants on.
“Are you okay?” Paul asked, his voice tired.
“I think so, yeah.” Emma touched his arm softly. “Sorry for the shove. I panicked.”
“It's okay,” he said with a weak nod. “Let's… we should go home.”
He started for the door, moving away from Emma's touch. Her palm tingled. The empty air was sharp.
On shaky legs, Emma hurried to catch up.