It was a good thing he thought ahead enough to get them a secluded table and bribe the waiter to fuck off. Lydia was a wanton mess in his lap, writhing, fucking herself on his finger slow and hot to complement his rhythm‒ but then the delicious little stretch was gone and he was offering her sweets again.

Sorely tempted to rush through trying everything, Lydia instead calmed herself with deep breaths, clenching slick thighs together compulsively to feel just a bit more of that euphoria he teased. The sides of her hips still stung a little from where he ripped her underwear off. She wasn't sure where they went, but she thought she might have felt him shift to stuff them in his pocket.

At peak arousal now, she shifted uncomfortably as he traced champagne-soaked strawberries over her lips and urged her to suckle sweet creams and custards from a spoon he held. His arousal never went away, and it didn't take much work to angle herself properly; drape each knee with her thighs spread over his, arch her back and situate her pulsating core right over his clothed cock, wiggle around and get that stimulation they both craved.

He must have done this on purpose. All her senses were heightened and mingling. A dab of rich chocolate mousse melted on her tongue, his hips rocked up, and her tongue and pussy salivated in time with each other.

"Unngh," she moaned a touch too loudly, drawing a prolonged stare from another table.

"I can't take it anymore," she pled, gripping the edge of their table. "Please can we go? Somewhere we can be alone?"

He could feel her squirm, and he very much enjoyed that. He also realized how much he was truly enjoying feeding her and watching her try all the different dishes. So focused was he on that pleasure, he missed her movements. When she wiggled down against him, his hand faltered and he made a low noise in his throat. Mouth moving down to bite at her sweet neck, his hips ground up with a bit more force than before.

He smiled against her neck when she moaned, and when she asked‒ no, begged to be taken away from there… well, how could he refuse her anything? She could have asked for anything and he would have complied. As it was, he pulled a wad of cash from his jacket pocket and tossed it to the table. He caught her face and turned her mouth to his, and with a heavy kiss, they slipped through existence at the table.

When they materialized, it was dark, cool, and smelled of damp foliage. There was a perfumed quality to the air that happens when surrounded by an abundance of flowers. It never really got dark or light in the Neitherworld. But this particular garden was in an area where the sky tended to stay a deep purple, light came down from what could pass as reflection of the moon in the living world.

Betelgeuse had landed them softly onto a thick layer of moss and cushioning grass, just under the edge of a stand of giant black roses. Back in his striped suit and sans any glamor, he was stretched out beneath his sweet little lover, hands fisting in the layers of her skirt to pull her in against him.

Somewhere between there and here, he became her grimy, scratchy, filthy lover again, her fingers catching in his wiry mane as they tangled, no silky locks to be found.

"I want to do something for you…" she whispered close to his mouth, holding intense and rare eye contact while she could. "To say thank you. I never thought anyone would ever want to take me on a date…"

Emotion made her eyes glassy, but she fought through it to make sure she wouldn't cry. Tears were not sexy, she had learned the hard way.

"This has been the best night of my life."

She never wanted it to end. By smell alone, she knew that they were outside, a floral scent hinting at the presence of a garden. Soft, wet grass beneath her knees aided this hunch, but Lydia was too concerned with other things to fret over the state of her beloved new dress. The way he had taught her to, she ripped his shirt open, pulling the tails from his slacks before making clumsy work of unbuttoning them, boldly fishing out the erection she wriggled on top of for the better part of the last few hours.

Soft, hot kisses mapped a burning trail down his chest. If her intentions weren't clear before, they certainly were now.

Her fingers were in his hair again, catching more now than before but still it made him rock his hips against her, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"I want to do something for you…"

She was talking, and he was trying to focus on the words. Most of his control was exhausted at the restaurant, but at the sound of her voice, he locked his eyes to hers. It made his chest clench, and the spot where she shared blood with him burned. Her pretty… no, beautiful crystalline eyes stared into his.

Until that moment, he never realized how much he cherished little things like eye contact with her. It was so rare. He used eye contact to intimidate and coerce ordinarily that was never an option with Lydia. He realized again with a shock that he didn't mind that about her‒ that he had to actually work to communicate with her, think about what he wanted to convey rather than following nasty habitual impulses.

Fuck, he was starting to go soft for this little mortal.

She jerked him from his thoughts as she ripped his shirt open. Leaning up on his elbows to watch her fumble with his belt and pants, he was somewhere between enjoying how bold she was being and wanting to help her. He opted to let her do it herself.

When she pulled his cock free, he groaned and flopped back down. It surprised him every time just how warm and soft she was in touch and in being; he was also relieved to not be cramped inside the slacks any longer. Her warmth was spreading across his skin, her hot little kisses and delicate hands questing across his firm chest and soft gut. A particular spot on his chest throbbed in time with her pulse.

When it occurred to him where she was heading, he lifted himself up to watch her work her way down his body, digging claws into the soft cushioning beneath him.

It would be a lie to say that she wasn't a little afraid of the task she found herself bold enough to attempt but one couldn't tell from looking. Only the sharp tang to her scent gave her away to the ghoul beneath her. Betelgeuse thought she was beautiful and sexy. Ambition to prove him right was stronger than fear of proving him wrong.

His belly was soft and pleasant to touch, so she enjoyed letting her lips caress down over it as she worked toward her true goal, the leaking hunk of rigid flesh held in her palm. It was silky and heavy and every bit as big and daunting as the last time she held it. Despite the palpable uptick of that tang in her scent, no further time was wasted with dilly-dallying and fretting.

As soon as she was there, she was on him, the entire fat head and a couple thick inches immediately brought to rest on the wet bed of her tongue, the soft muscle undulating and caressing curiously. Her mouth was just as tiny as the rest of her making it a tight fit, but she managed an above-average effort with what she had to work with.

"Mmf," she choked on a brave swallow that brought several girthy inches closer toward the back of her throat, a pale fist curling into his pant leg to help calm her through her throat spasming. It didn't work, Lydia popping off of him with a loud gasp and slick cherry lips, momentarily resting her cheek on his hip bone to give herself a break. Still, she kept working him, stroking to spread her saliva down the shaft and pressing sweet kisses to the base.

"Sorry," she whispered for her embarrassing show of gagging, then kissed it again. "Is this good?"

The soft scent of her fear hit him at the same time she took him into her mouth, making him throb. She was so fucking warm, and tight‒ fuck, they should have done this sooner. His body tensed to keep himself from thrusting into her mouth, and he let out a shocked breath he hadn't realised had been in his lungs.

She looked so small and pretty on his cock like that. He was impressed with how much of him she was able to fit into that sweet little mouth. He was making that low growling groan, deep in his chest. When she tried to swallow and choked, he collapsed back flat into the ground covering moss. His cock throbbed in her mouth, and when she pulled back and off of him he let out a ragged breath and little low rumbling moan. Her little hand still worked him, and now without the worry of choking her he let his hips press up against her hand. Her soft hot lips continued to press against him, making him shudder.

"Sorry… Is this good?"

"Fuck, babes," it came out more as a groaning gasp than words, he cleared his throat and tried again, "Yeah, baby girl, it's good, very fuckin' good."

The spot on his chest was still pulsing in time with her pulse. He leaned up enough to tread his fingers into her hair and catch one of the strings of pearls. Giving it a tug to let all her hair fall around her like moonbeams, his fingers threaded into the silky tendrils.

"Ya ain't got nothin' ta be sorry for sweetheart, yer doin' real good."

Her warm fingers drove him mad as they worked his length. His hips bucked up against her, the gentle feel of her rose bud lips pressing on him. She looked like the faery queen he imagined her to be with wild silvery locks in the purple twilight, her pale dress gathering grass stains and leaves making her look all the more ethereal.

His praise reignited her fire, reminded her why she wanted to do this to begin with. Nothing in Lydia's life had ever made her feel the way that the sound of his voice did. A subtle shift of his intonation in that vaguely Southern growling drawl had the power to soak her panties, or put her baby hairs on end‒ if he so chose.

Clutching at him passionately, one little hand tangled in the thick of his belly hair, the other weakly strangling the base of his cock, she returned to sucking him down. Vaguely, she was aware that her hair wasn't up anymore, but he was there to fist it and pull it away from her face so the obstacle didn't bother Lydia any in her task.

Knowing better now than to try and swallow beyond her limits, she grew confident enough to work up to a rhythm that fell in line with his addictive grunts and snarls. These sounds of his made her feel powerful‒ a foreign sensation for an unloved blind girl. Soft lips, slick and kissed-puffy, glided along his length smoothly, the girl's brow furrowed in savoring concentration, as if this was a delicious meal she was partaking in and wanted to dissect all the flavors.

It was an expression Betelgeuse should have been familiar with if he could pry his eyes open long enough to look at her without blowing too soon and ruining it.

Lydia had him feeling like a randy boy. She almost had him unloading in his slacks when she begged to leave the restaurant. Now she had him all worked up and on the verge of release and she had barely started. There was still the lingering scent of fear, but now lust was starting to overpower it. The more confident she got in her actions, the harder it was for him to hold on to what little control he had.

He knew she was afraid of what he could become, but as long as he wasn't attacking or in her face with it, being a little lax with his control shouldn't be a problem. He had been so relaxed and felt so calm with Lydia, calmer than he had in centuries, but now he could feel that dark uncontrollable energy bleeding back into him. Every time she sighed over him, or gasped, or her scent permated, he could feel something in his chest stirring.

Betelgeuse bucked his hips up into her mouth before he could stop himself. The hand in her hair balled into a tighter fist. His body was shuddering on each of her sweet downstrokes, claws carving deep furrows into the moss and soil next to him. The last of his tedious control snapped.

"Lydia, honey…"

It came out as a gasping growl. His hips bucked again and his body tensed as he came hard and heavy.

His fist tightened in her hair at the same time his hips ground up into her face, cutting off her comfortable rhythm to force a load of cum down her throat. It was a lot. She choked and gagged around him, and when she was granted freedom, she fell into a brief coughing fit that left her eyes watery. The way they shined complemented the gleam of the dribble of semen at the corner of her lips.

"You didn't have to do that," she complained weakly, sitting up a bit to right her appearance somewhat. With or without clear vision, she knew she must have been a wreck. "I was going to swallow anyway."

One too many lewd jokes and conversations had been overhead from boys in her age range debating the merits of spit v. swallow. The majority consensus was clear. Regardless of how rough he got at the end there, he was still a panting, shaking mass in the grass beneath her and Lydia was proud that she had been able to bring him to a state like this. Usually, he was the one still in full control of his faculties while she was trembling and sweating and on the verge of losing consciousness.

It was a refreshing change of pace. Standing, she left him behind to recover while she explored the immediate vicinity. The tip of her nose twitched as she followed the scents in the air, pressing her face boldly into a big, soft bloom with lots of petals. A shroud of brilliant moonlight had cast everything in a hazy glow for Lydia. It was all still fuzzy, but colors and shapes were clearer, and she was seeing so many, some that were so new and vibrant she didn't think she had a name for them.

"Beej… where are we?"

He laid there for a moment, watching her start to explore the garden. Her shimmery white form, and quick little movements reminding him of something… he couldn't quite put his finger on.

As he was getting himself resettled into his slacks she moved from bloom to bloom. When she leaned in, her nose twitched. He let a startled chuckle slip out. Betelgeuse knew he needed to catch up with her before she left the safety of the rose garden. Once back on his feet he slowly followed after her, hands in pockets, shirt and jacket hanging open. Why fix it at this point when he was hoping for another roll in the flowers soon anyway?

"Beej… where are we?"

"Hmmm? Oh, Neitherworld flower garden," he scuffed his boot in the grass before looking her over again. "I wouldn't go too much further without help, not all these plants are friendly."

When she leaned in close to another large bloom it hit him. She very much reminded him of a faery always, but just now she looked like a little white rabbit. Bouncing around all in white, but maybe "rabbit" was too harsh for her. Perhaps…

"So, m'lil Bunny, whaddya think? I don't expect ya get to see many bloomin' flowers things bein' what they are…"

He had conjured a cigarette, trailing his fingers through her hair as he stood behind her, teasing the fine baby hairs along the base of her neck.

True to form, Lydia hopped and giggled when he snuck up behind her to tickle her baby hairs, snapping around to turn and face him.

"Neitherworld…?"

Awe kept her lips parted and eyes big as she took yet another useless look around, as if she might spot the visual differences between one realm and the next. Of course, she couldn't, and the smell here was no different from what she might smell in a garden in the living realm, so she would have to just take his word for it.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the revelation that she was on an entirely different plane of existence and hadn't even realized it, Lydia lost her bearings for a moment, reaching out to grab for blurry black and white stripes and steady herself. He was right, of course, the way he tended to be most of the time. Lydia never got to enjoy flowers in full bloom, not like this.

"There's no sunlight here? Ever?"

To anyone else, that would be a bleak item of information to take in regarding the afterlife, but to Lydia it was paradisiacal. Death was looking better and better by the day.

"I think it's amazing." If she were any quieter, he wouldn't have been able to hear the reverent hush. "I think you're amazing. I think the only reason I exist is so that I could be here. With you. Right now."

Questions of past and future seemed so small and insignificant at the moment. Here, there was only perfection.

"Neitherworld?"

"Yup," he spoke around the cigarette clenched in his teeth, his hand reaching out to catch hers as it reached, "the afterlife, the here after, the great beyond, what comes next. Y'know. Death."

The look on her face was worth coming back to this insufferable hell hole. It was so shiny and happy. He made a good choice, it seemed, in hoping she would like the flowers.

"There's no sunlight here? Ever?"

Pulling her in against his body, her back to his chest, his touch smoothed down her shoulder, collar bone, and chest.

"It's always twilight n' never day or night. Least in this corner. Other places, the sky is neon orange and s'almost worse than real sunlight." He leaned over to press a kiss into her hair, holding her back against him, then flicked his cigarette away.

"I think you're amazing. I think the only reason I exist is so that I could be here. With you. Right now."

"Lydia, love… marry me." The spot on his chest burned and he sounded hoarse, lips grazing her wild curls while he lazily stroked her chest.

Once more he mentioned marriage, and once more Lydia's heart clenched in trepidation at the prospect even as the corners of her lips turned even higher and wider, that angelic peaceful smile breaking into nervous giggles.

"Beej," she faltered, making a half-hearted move as if she meant to step away. His grip was too strong, and she stayed right where she was without fighting his hold further. "We can't."

Didn't he understand? Marriage was so final and adult and scary. The only examples of married couples that Lydia knew of casted images of unhappy people only pretending to support and love one another for the sake of appearances. What she and Betelgeuse had was already so perfect. Why did he want to ruin it?

"I'm too young. I don't think it's even legal. And what if… what if it doesn't work out?"

It physically pained Lydia to voice such a fear but if he was going to be the irrational, reckless one, someone had to be the adult.

"You could wake up and decide you hate me one day."

Considering his rapid, terrifying mood swings, this wasn't that far outside the realm of possibility, not in Lydia's opinion.

"Then what? Would we get divorced? What would that even look like?"

The longer she carried on, the more tense his arms became around her, and Lydia mistook it for a comforting embrace in the face of her fears, relaxing back into the serpent's arms once more. The blissful haze of their romp was tainted now. Eager to fix it, Lydia turned her jaw up to press an unseeing kiss to wherever her lips could reach‒ his throat.

"Just give me some time," she pled, sensing his upset, but not quite the full depth of it. "Let me think about it…"

Her scent spiked when he asked‒ in a good way. Then before she could get out her denial, he could smell it, feel it in the way she held herself. She was turning him down a second time.

Betelgeuse regularly spent a great deal of energy making his spirit stuff seem more human and alive for his own personal comfort‒ but with her words, what was left of his heart clenched and he dropped those petty magics to keep from losing control and doing something he would regret once he calmed. If he calmed.

The little efforts of life he pulled around himself fell away and his body became cooler and felt empty. His arms no longer really felt like arms but heavy bands holding her to his corpse. No effort was taken for the tiny breaths he used to talk and smoke. For long moments, he was just a quiet empty shell. That's when lightning began to flash across the purple twilight.

He could smell her fear. He knew he was holding her too tight and that she would have bruises later but he wanted her hurt and scared. If he had to feel like this, like she was prying his heart from his ribcage, then she could give him a little more fear and even their playing field.

She was talking to him, her voice that same soft sweetness it always was but it was all just reasons why she wouldn't say yes. When she pressed her lips to his throat, that was it. Something snapped in him. He could feel his claws and fangs and as his vision became red washed.

"Lydia… you ssssshould run."

The choked command‒ really more of a friendly suggestion‒ took her aback.

"Wh… what?"

Something was wrong. He was too still around her, as if he was a true corpse and rigor mortis had set in. Everything flashed bright, too much so, and Lydia cried out at the assault to her eyes, struggling and wriggling until she was free from his iron grasp and could throw her arms over her face protectively.

"Beej?" She sounded so small and confused, unaware of her place and footing now without him to hold her steady and be her grounding point. "Are you doing that? What's going on? I don't understand!"

As her hysteria escalated, the lightning show ceased, allowing her to drop her arms and feel out for his aura again‒ except it wasn't in any one particular place. It was everywhere, brushing along her skin and filling her lungs with him. He had to be feeling a lot to be taking up so much space.

Fuzzy, familiar black and white stripes were missing. There was… something… moving in front of her. Something enormous, larger than life, with glowing basketball-sized citrine eyes focused on her through the sea of endless shadows. Run, instincts told her, and she didn't need to be told a third time. In the space of minutes, her paradise had been transformed into a nightmare. Where had her lover gone?

Her run didn't last long. She managed to trample a flower bed, trip over a tree root, and corner herself crawling and hiding in a curled tight little ball against the trunk. Her breaths were kept short and quiet in desperation to conceal herself from the mystery monster though she feared it would hear what seemed like a deafeningly loud heartbeat to the terrified girl. This couldn't be him. It couldn't be.

She remembered a vivid flash of red and screams of agony, scales wrapping all around her, the way she didn't sleep a wink that first night with the crashing and shattering of all of her parents' belongings.

No. Her head shook, little hands clasping over her ears to quiet silent accusations. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't.