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gasolineghuleh · 1 year

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Can I Get Your Number?

Commission for @monstranceglock-- today, I am salivating for your bread. So I cooked for you.

Dew matches with you on a dating app and asks you out to the movies. Are you sure he's in it just for you, though, or is this another run of the mill 'ghosting' situation?

cw: semi public kanoodling Words: 5.3k

The phone lands with a thump on the bed beside you, accompanied by your groan and rolling eyes. You huff a snarl of hair out of your eyes, fighting the urge to fold your arms in almost child-like defiance. This is the third Brother this week that’s stood you up on a date, only to try to sext with you later once he apologized a sufficient amount. If they aren’t going to bother to show up for something scheduled, what makes them think they deserve anything afterwards? You grumble in frustration when the phone lights up again, the blinking fire icon igniting and then cooling back to an ember once the notification fades.

Ah, yes.

Sinder.

The Emeritus Church of His Morning Star’s most recently launched Sibling Matching Service, as they called it. "Ignite your blasphemous future.. together!" It’s a glorified hook up app, but you know several of your Sisters who have had a long term match and are now happily in a relationship… something you've always wanted for yourself. Maybe just one more try… You screw your mouth up in annoyance before grumbling and picking up your phone again. When the app launches on your screen, you cock an eyebrow in interest— the match was from a Ghoul. Your thumb hovers over the “Yes” button as your eye watches the Ghoul mask blink in and out of existence— the notification bubble for the match tempting you with every movement.

The app itself was divided into two sides; humans and Ghouls. You’ve always fancied yourself a monster fucker, and the Ghouls of the Abbey tended to lean into that role quite nicely when they sensed a human who was down for it. Sometimes you could even hear them chasing a Sibling around campus, just for the rush of it. Matches from the human side of the app were much more common, and you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been disappointed in what they had to offer, recently. Maybe Lilith herself is trying to send you a sign in a convoluted means by matching you with a Ghoul instead of a man this time.

After another moment of consideration you swipe your thumb to the left and accept the match, holding your breath as you wait for the profile of the designated Ghoul to load. When it finally does it's a concentrated effort for you to not drop your phone in surprise, fumbling with the glossy black square of technology for a moment before catching it properly and holding it back up to your eyes. The Ghoul that you've matched with seems to be the guitarist for the latest Ghost project, this time under the flagship banner of Papa Emeritus the Fourth— his name on the app appears as Dew with a fire and water emoji, and this peaks your interest enough for you to dedicate your full attention to the match.

You pull your legs up underneath you on the bed and situate yourself into a comfortable seated position, hunching over slightly and holding your phone in both hands. You swipe through the photos that have been provided by the Ghoul and catch yourself smiling before long, thoroughly enjoying the photos of him and his fellow Ghouls as they tour the world. Papa crops up frequently throughout the photos, and each one is captioned with some quick-witted sentence from Dew.

As you continue to scroll through Dew's profile, you come across a picture of him in full costume, complete with his signature chromatic mask with the mouth cut out and a guitar slung over his shoulder. The image sends a shiver down your spine and a flush to your cheeks, the kind of reaction you usually only get from watching horror movies or listening to heavy metal music. It isn’t the first time that you’ve matched with a Ghoul or even considered matching with one and speaking— but it’s the first time you’ve had this sort of reaction to the photos on the app.

You scroll through Dew's profile, admiring the photos of him and his bandmates as they perform on stage in front of a sea of screaming fans. There's something electrifying about seeing him in his element, his fingers deftly moving over the strings of his guitar as he pours his heart and soul into the music. You can almost feel the energy of the crowd pulsing through the screen, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment. You’ve been to a few of the Ghost project shows before, as a Sibling of the Clergy, and the same feeling of being there radiates through his photos. The energy of the crowd, the feeling of the arena swelling with the lyrics, and the power of the Ghoulish incantations sprinkled throughout the songs— all of it comes flooding back and you begin swiping through more of his photos.

In one, Dew is lounging on a couch in a dimly-lit room, his black leather jacket draped casually over the back of the sofa. For once, his mask is off and you can see it discarded on a small table next to the sofa, next to a half empty beer bottle and a lightly smoking joint. His hair is styled in messy waves, and his eyes are heavy-lidded as he stares into the camera. There's a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you imagine what it would be like to be sitting beside him, running your fingers through his hair.

In yet another photo, Dew is standing in front of a graffiti-covered wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the brick— his eyes are looking somewhere off in the distance and the photo is clearly a candid shot. The sunlight is casting long shadows across his face, and the contrast between his gray skin and the dark ink of his tattoos is striking. You can't help but feel a twinge of envy as you imagine all the people who have had the chance to see him up close and personal, to feel his body heat and hear the sound of his voice in person. The rubber band in your core tightens further as you gnaw on your lip, thinking about his voice as he growls in your ear, saying-

You pause on one final photo, this one a close-up of Dew's face as he looks directly into the camera. His eyes are a lightly glowing amber, and there's a hint of stubble on his jawline where he hasn’t had the time to shave while on the road. You can see the shadows of his sharp cheekbones and the curve of his lips, and you find yourself studying every detail of his face as if committing it to memory. There's something undeniably attractive about him, something that draws you in and makes you want to know more— more than any other human man who’s spurned your interest.

As you continue to browse Dew's profile, you notice that he's listed his interests as "horror movies, rock music, and all things spooky." Maybe this is the sign you've been waiting for, the universe telling you that it's time to take a chance and pursue something outside of your usual comfort zone. Maybe this will be the start of something new and exciting, something that will take you out of your comfort zone and into a world of darkness, passion, and forbidden pleasures.

You click on the "Sin Together" button and start typing out your first message to the Ghoul. "Hey Dew, I noticed we matched! Your photos are amazing, it must be so cool to tour the world! What’s up?" You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should hit send. Your thumb hovers over the arrow and your internal battle rages strong. It's not like you to take risks or be so forward, but there's something about Dew that makes you want to break out of your shell and take a chance. “In for a penny,” you say to yourself, and press the button.

Fwoosh~~ ping!

“Okay, it’s done. Nothing to do now but wait.” You huff out a quick anxiety-ridden breath and shake out your hands, scanning your eyes around your dorm room for anything you could use to distract yourself.

Television in the common room? No, it’s Real Housewives night and Terzo is bound to make himself comfortable for the new episode. A new book? No, it’s a monster romance. That won’t help right now. How about some music?

Mind made up, you lean over to the side and flick on your radio, only to immediately flick it off again. Of course his music would be on all of the channels right now, just your luck.

As you wait for a response, you begin to doubt yourself. What if Dew doesn't find you interesting or attractive? What if he's just looking for a one-night stand or someone to fangirl over him? Could this have been a bug in the application? You suck your lower lip into your mouth and worry at it with your teeth, wondering if you should unmatch him and save yourself the waiting. But then, a notification pops up on your phone.

Ping!

Your heart races as you open the message, a grin already spreading across your face. He’s written quite a bit more than you expected from a first message response, and you feel a little bit of a flush pinken in your cheeks as you scan the contents.

“Sup gorgeous! Yeah the pics are pretty cool, touring around ain’t bad but I got a group of guys that make it way better, yk? What are you up to, beautiful?” You perk up a little bit from your spot on the bed, re-reading the text three more times to yourself before you reply.

“Just sitting and relaxing, I had class just before this so I’m trying to chill out for the rest of the night. What about you?” You pause for a moment, considering if you should say anything else. Finally you decide on it and add, “I'm into horror movies, like you said on your profile. What’s your favourite one?”

This time, his answer is almost instant and you opt to just keep your phone in your hand, now that he seems to be answering quickly.

“The Exorcist all the way. I love that demon-possession shit. It's pretty intense when you get to do the real thing ya know? Lol. Maybe I can show you sometime, it can be pretty fun with someone.. What’s yours?” Heat coils in your gut at the possible implications of his statement, and you can’t help but wonder what he could mean by that. You shake it off and decide to bring it up later, once you’re more comfortable with each other. Perhaps it was just a joke.

“Probably The Shining. The big wheel trike! I can’t! It makes me shudder to even think about it.” True to your word, you do feel a little bit of the hair along your arms raise as you start to think about the ominous scene in question. You blink and look down, noticing the notification already.

Dew responds almost immediately, "Oh yeah, that's a classic. Ay speaking of horror movies what do you say we watch one together sometime? I know this great lil indie theater down in the town that plays all of the best horror flicks, like Cannibal Holocaust and all that shit. How about this weekend? You down?" You feel a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves at the prospect of a date with Dew. He may be a little rough around the edges, but there's something undeniably charming about him.

Before you know it you’ve already responded in the affirmative, your mind already racing with what to wear the night of. As soon as you hit send, you can feel your heart beating fast in your chest. You’ve never been on a date with someone like Dew before - he’s charming and witty, but there’s also something about him that feels a little dangerous. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It’s just a date, after all. What could go wrong?

As the night wears on, however, your excitement begins to give way to nervousness. What if you don't hit it off in person? What if he's not as charming as he seems in his texts? You spend the next day going over every little detail in your head, from the outfit you've chosen to the topics of conversation you want to bring up. Despite your nerves, you can't deny the anticipation building up inside of you, and you find yourself looking forward to the date more than anything else in recent memory.

The next day you wake up to a text from Dew, confirming the details of the date, accompanied by a black and red heart emoji, and a suggestive way of saying he can’t wait to see you. One of the movies that happens to be showing at the theater is the original Scream movie, and you’re almost as excited to see one of your favourites on the big screen as you are to see Dew. It’s shaping up to be a good night. As the day goes on, you can hardly focus on anything else. You try to distract yourself with your work, but your mind keeps wandering back to Dew and the date. The letters in your textbook swirl until all that you can make out is “You down?” and you allow yourself to drift off into thought, daydreaming about the date.

Finally, the evening arrives and you spend hours getting ready, asking some of your closer Sisters if they have any input into your dress or makeup. You don’t tell them who you’re going to see, but they all figure out that it’s a date anyway, and gas you up appropriately. You choose a cute, slightly edgy outfit that you hope will impress Dew— ankle heeled boots and a black low cut dress, leaving your ample cleavage exposed.

When you arrive at the theater in the town below the Abbey he’s already there waiting for you, dressed in a leather jacket and a pair of jeans, as well as some sort of ripped band tee. His mask is off, presumably left at the Abbey to make blending in in the town a little bit easier. As soon as he sees you, he grins and stands up from the bench he was reclining on, offering you his hand and looking into your eyes. “Hey, beautiful,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “You look amazing.”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you take his hand and follow him to the glass ticket booth of the theater, trying to surreptitiously take in his looks now that you’ve seen him in person. His hands were lithe and agile as he exchanged his card for tickets with the teller behind the glass wall, and his fingers were swift when he twirled the card to pocket it with ease. One of his horns peaked through his long white hair when he leaned forward slightly, and you

As you step inside the theater, you immediately notice the worn out seats with torn upholstery and the musty smell that hangs in the air. The dim lighting flickers overhead, casting a dim glow over the rows of empty seats. In the corner you’re almost sure that you see a large hanging cobweb before the overhead lights begin to dim in preparation for the movie. Despite the evident signs of decay and neglect however, there's something charming about the vintage feel of the place. You can picture how it must have looked in its prime, packed with moviegoers eager to catch the latest movie that just released. The paint on the walls, a dark maroon with gold filigree, was faded but still beautiful enough for you to spend a moment admiring.

Dew leads you down one of the aisles and you settle into a pair of seats in the center of the theater. The silence is almost deafening, broken only by the occasional creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet. You steal a glance at Dew, feeling a bit nervous and excited all at once. "I can't believe we're the only ones here," you say, your voice echoing slightly in the empty space. “This feels like stepping into a time capsule.”

"Yeah, it's definitely seen better days," Dew replies with a smirk. "But that's part of the charm, isn't it?" You nod, trying to ignore the slight unease that's settled in your stomach. “It's got that old-school vibe that you just can't find anymore."

As the movie starts playing, the screen illuminates the dimly lit room with flickering light. You can tell just by how it displays on the theater screen that it’s an original film reel— you can make out the edges of the film reel along the sides of the movie as it opens. The images on the screen are in black and white, and the characters have exaggerated features and angular shapes. It's the movie "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari," just as Dew promised, a silent film from the 1920s.

As the story unfolds, you and Dew are completely immersed in the eerie atmosphere of the movie. The jagged shadows, twisted buildings, and distorted faces create a surreal and unsettling aura that settles over the two of you like a shroud. The film's haunting score adds to the tension and keeps you on the edge of your seat. You can't help but feel a little spooked as you steal a glance at Dew and see that he's just as captivated by the film as you are, his eyes fixed on the screen, his hand occasionally gripping the armrest. His claws dig into the velvet arm of the chair just slightly before he notices, turning to you and shrugging with a laugh.

“I doubt they’ll notice,” he quips, pulling some of the fluff from his claws with his other hand. When he struggles with a piece of the fabric you take his hand in yours gently, using your smaller hand to easily unwind it from the tip of his claw and allow it to float to the floor. “Does this count as holdin’ hands, then?” His eyes meet yours and you stammer a little before you’re able to get the answer out.

You can feel your heart beating faster as his hand lingers in yours, and you're not sure if it's because of the creepy movie or the fact that Dew's touch is sending electricity through your body. You clear your throat, trying to hide your nervousness as you respond, "I guess it does, technically." You both chuckle softly, but the tension in the air doesn't dissipate. Rather, it turns to electric pulses that chime in time with your core, suddenly tight and aching with desire. You haven’t noticed it until now, but he smells amazing… Leather and musk and nicotine and underneath it all, the slightly otherworldly scent that accompanies Ghouls.

“You’re real hot, you know.” You whip your head to the side as soon as the words leave his lips, eyes wide. Dew’s hand clenches on yours slightly as if to hold you in place, urge you to stay. “I thought, maybe, you’d be a little worried that I asked you out just to fuck.” Taken aback by his sudden honesty, you grip his hand and look down, watching as his fingers slowly twine into yours.

“I was thinking you wouldn’t be interested in me. Most guys-”

“Most humans,” he corrects with a grin, his sharpened teeth almost exaggerated in the flickering white light from the cinema screen. A sudden fanfare blares from the speakers as a reveal happens and both of you jump in your seats before laughing a little— it seems to have dissipated some of the awkward tension, however.

“Well, most of them just either want sex or suddenly ‘aren’t interested’ once we get beyond talking.” You huff out a frustrated breath and attempt to explain. “I was just worried that I’m not enough… or too much.” When you look up again and meet his eye, he smiles gently down at you before bringing your interlaced hands to his face and pressing a kiss against the top of your hand.

“Not at all. You’re just enough, babe. If I gotta be honest, I’m really kinda falling for you, and all that shit.” His words take you by surprise and you laugh, a genuine smile spreading across your face. “I mean hell, you came to see a silent fuckin’ movie with me as a first date. That’s pretty cool. And your eyes make me want to kiss you.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your heart beat faster in your chest. Dew’s eyes land squarely on your lips and you watch his pupils dilate slightly— he’s clearly as into this tension as you are. You feel his thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand, his touch igniting the heat that had laid coiled in your belly.

Without even thinking you move closer to him, the distance between you almost non-existent. You can feel his breath on your face, his scent intoxicating and suddenly so very present. You look up into his eyes, the deep pools of amber staring back at you with such intensity that you feel your knees go weak— if you had been standing, you certainly would have slumped into his arms with all of the desperation of a lover reunited. Instead, you bite your lip, trying to suppress the overwhelming desire that's coursing through you, but it's no use.

Suddenly, you feel his lips on yours, soft at first, but then with a growing intensity that takes your breath away. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin as his other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer against him in the rickety seats. The kiss is electric, and his intake of breath tells you he feels the same. Dew’s hand tightens on the back of your neck and your skin prickles when you feel his claws against you, gentle enough to only graze you. When he breaks the kiss and pulls back he’s breathing almost as hard as you are, and his cheeks are tinged slightly pink under his usual gray pallor.

“So, I mean, like- Would you be, like, disappointed if I DID want to fuck?” he asks, having obvious difficulty keeping his eyes from floating down to the soft curves of your breasts, practically spilling over the top of your dress— just as you intended. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m kinda thinking about it.”

“Only kinda?” you say, feigning offense. Dew just leans closer, his eyes flickering between yours and the tops of your breasts. When you make no move to stop him, beyond a quick scan for anyone else who may have snuck into the theater, he leans down, pressing his lips to the top of your breast before using his nose to fold down the front of your dress slightly.

“Can I keep kissing you, then?” he asks, only slightly muffled by your chest. You nod and hum an answer in the affirmative, watching as his forked tongue sneaks out to lathe across your skin. Dew groans against you as soon as his tongue makes contact and he follows it quickly with his teeth, biting you and sucking a kiss mark into your chest, just above the line of your bra.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Your breath is already coming quicker, the need and desire threatening to spill over until you’re no longer sure you’ll care if anyone sees you. Would he? “Fuck me proper?” Dew just shakes his head from his place between your tits, his hands coming up to tug your dress slightly further down, until the hem line rests below the swell of your breasts.

“I’m about-,” he pauses, dragging his tongue across your breast until he finds your nipple, sweeping over it briefly. “-to stop caring if someone hears us. And I am this fuckin’ close-” Dew holds up two fingers, hovering just a centimeter away from each other. “-to just taking you how I want to right now. Tell me I shouldn’t.” His eyes land on yours before you look down, watching as he rolls his hips gently against the arm of the chair, rutting against it instead of you.

“Do it.”

Dew clicks his teeth together twice at you with a wink before pulling himself over you, planting a leg on either side of your thigh. You blink in surprise, suddenly having a leg full of Ghoul, and Dew takes the moment to his advantage, taking your nipple into his mouth and dragging his tongue around it while his other hand drops to upper thigh. Dew’s hips roll against your thigh and you have the brief realization that he intends to get off like this— touching you with more intimacy than his instrument and rutting against you like he would on stage. It smacks you like a truck, and you can’t help the suddenly lust-laden sigh that drops from your lips.

The Ghoul grins against your breast, and you can feel the points of his teeth as he bites you gently, sucking another mark that will no doubt blossom into something purple by the morning— a van Gogh reminiscent swath of colour that will server as a reminder when you fuck yourself later, no doubt. His fingers linger alone the hem line of your panties, tugging gently before he moves them. When you shift your hips below him and make your need for contact known he hums against you, finally bringing his fingers to your already soaked cunt through your panties, pressing gently until he finds the delicate bud of nerves there.

“Knock knock,” he quips quietly, laughing to himself as you struggle to contain a laugh of your own. The tension has built up so much that you know if you break and laugh now, you won’t be able to stop— the anxious nerves have returned slightly, and you know they won’t go away until you feel his agile fingers slip inside of you, guided by the slick evidence of your need. Dew feels you tense up and wraps his lips around your nipple again, biting gently and pressing the pads of his fingers more firmly against you.

“Dew, please,” you breathe, “Make me cum. You have no idea how badly I want to cum for you.” Desperation tinges your voice just a little bit, and you allow it, hoping that it will spur him on faster. You’re relieved when it does, and finally Dew uses one of his claws to slice through the front of your panties. When his fingers touch your wetness for the first time both of you gasp, his hips stuttering against your thigh momentarily before finding his groove again.

“So fuckin’ soft.” Dew pulls away from your breasts to bring his lips back to yours, sucking your lower lip into his mouth in the same moment that his finger finally, blissfully slides inside of you. Your mouth drops open against his in pleasure and again, he takes advantage of this, sweeping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss even as his finger slides deeper inside of you. When you feel his second finger teasing around your entrance you move your leg slightly, offering him the same sort of pleasure as he was providing you.

Dew groans against your lips and his finger moves quicker inside of you, finally adding a second finger when you harshly whisper “do it!” against his lips. He breaks the kiss and returns to your breasts, rolling one of your nipples gently between his sharp teeth and pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit and mimicking the motion. Before long you feel yourself approaching your climax and your eyes turn to the screen briefly, watching as the movie approaches its own. Dew coaxes you through it, muttering and swearing encouragement against your tits as he works your orgasm out of you, his fingers deft and his thumb keeping perfect pace.

“Lift up your dress,” he instructs as he pulls his fingers free of you gently. You follow his words, pulling up the hem of your dress enough to expose the smooth skin of your upper thighs and stomach. “I wanna see my cum on your skin- see it coat you, make you- make you mine.” Dew speaks through gritted teeth as his hand flies to his belt, hips still rocking against you. Finally he pulls his cock free and grips it tightly in his fist, stroking himself with the hand that was inside of you.

“Dew, cum for me.” He breathes in sharply at your words, his head tilting back slightly in pleasure as he gets closer. “Cum all over me, so people will know just how much fun we had.” Dew’s mouth drops open and he gasps before rocking forward, cum landing on your skin in ropes that match the pulsing of his heart and rolling of his hips.

“Sathanas, I haven’t- haven’t cum like that in ages,” he says, pulling away and falling back into his seat beside you.

“Apparently not a moment too soon.” You point at the screen with one hand and adjust your dress quickly with the other— the credit title cards have already begun rolling on the screen and some of the lights on the wall have started to flicker back to life.

“Shit, that was close.” Dew laughs and takes another deep breath before standing and making a show of having wobbly legs. “If you got me this hard from just this… Man, I can’t wait to fuck you.” You instantly flush now that the lights are back on, your cheeks pinkening almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. Everything feels much more intense when the lights go up, you suppose. “If- if that’s alright, that is. If you wanna see me again, and shit. I know you’ve probably your pick of the Abbey, but-”

“I’d love to,” you say as you stand up as well, making to move down the aisle and exit the theater. He stops mid sentence, blinking and beginning to attempt to adjust his mask before realizing it’s not on.

“Right, yeah. I knew that. Cool. I figured. We should get going anyway, actually.” You laugh and spare him the embarrassment, reaching your hand out and lacing it with his as the two of you leave. “Are you heading back to the Abbey?” he asks, looking down the road outside of the theater for a possible taxi.

“Yeah, ride with me?” You move to stand beside him, shivering slightly in the sudden cold night air. Dew, noticing, takes off his jacket just as he manages to flag down a taxi. He holds his coat up for you and you slip your arms through it, immediately hugging the warm material closer to yourself.

“I gotta get to practice, I think I’m already late. If I’m too late, Aether is gonna have my ass. Something about ‘you were a more reliable bassist’ and shit.” The taxi pulls to the curb and Dew opens the door for you, helping you into the car with more manners than you expected he was capable of. “I’ll see you back home.” You roll down the window of the taxi and lean out of it as it starts to pull away from the curb.

“Text me?” you ask, hoping that your voice doesn’t come off as too desperate.

“Shit, hey, wait!” Dew scrambles after the car and it stops short when the driver hears him. He leans against the window and grins widely. “I don’t, uh- Can I get your number?”

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