Haley Thistle
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Undead Boyfriend: Nemo Part Four (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2020-08-21 20:01:01 +0000 UTCUpon opening the doors you’re hit with the scent of cut wood, fresh paint, and an otherly newness you weren’t used to. Inside, the new apartment is bright and new, almost completely untouched. Nemo and Asha had hired a team to move things in, bringing in all new furniture and appliances. You step inside, holding your breath as you look around. You felt out of place here, like a doll accidentally placed in the home and garden section of a store.
Asha is busy in the courtyard of the clinic, preparing it to become more functional than just something to look at. She had been planning this for a long time, and finally everything was coming together. It would be a working garden, providing fresh and much needed food for the clinic. Nemo was working, but he had promised to spend some time with you that afternoon.
You wander through the living room, passing by the black fireplace. You see your hazy reflection in the slick stone, almost appearing like a ghost. That’s sort of how you feel, out of time, out of place, wandering like a cloud through a world that isn’t yours. You quickly hurry through, stepping towards a pale wood door. Beyond it is your room.
Now, you had had your own room before, but not one that was wholly and completely yours. You had helped design what you wanted for your new bedroom, you didn’t have much to ask for, just one silly thing you had always wanted; a bay window. It had been that silly thing in story books you had always admired. All the great heroines had one that they would sit in. Wendy would rest in one to wait for Peter. It was a notion that had been hard to shake. You had never envisioned having such a thing, but it was the tiniest inkling of hope you clung to.
Inside, the bay window was spectacular. Wrought iron and glass all the way down to the half moon seat with shelves under it. You bit back your smile, slightly afraid of letting your joy be known. You’re breathless as you stand in your room, looking from the plush bed to the old wardrobe. You had asked no fuss over a closet, but Asha had insisted that you have a nice one. You figured it would just be a hole in the wall, but upon opening the mirrored doors, you gaze into a shallow, but still very large walk-in. There are clothes already hanging inside that you don’t recognize. Upon inspection you see each one has a handwritten note attached.
“A professional blazer is always in style. This one I thought suited your eyes. Love Asha.” She had basically supplied you with a new wardrobe, new suits for work, casual clothes for around the house, even a new robe with pajamas. You would treasure the notes.
Your room went right into the master bath, a large nearly all white room. For some reason, this had been the room Nemo was most adamant about. He insisted on it being large enough to house all three of you at once comfortably. The shower was all glass, the bathtub was claw footed, and the toilet was, well, it was a toilet. You footsteps echo in this room, and you grow a tad excited to hear Asha sing when she bathes, she always does.
The master bath then led either back out into the hall, or into the master bedroom. Stepping inside there, your heart began to pound. Asha and Nemo would be mainly staying here, but there would be nights you’d be sleeping with them as well. Although, Asha and Nemo do much more than just sleep. Your face grows warm as you approach the king size bed, smoothing your hand out over the grey duvet. The things Asha and Nemo will do in this bed, in this room, you can’t take your mind off it.
You clear your throat and collect yourself, a tad embarrassed at your own train of thought. You’re happy Nemo and Asha are able to join together like that. You’re happy they choose to even include you in that love at all, even if you don’t participate in certain aspects. You’re lucky.
You wander down the hallway, back to the living room where you’ve set your laptop bag on the sofa. Sitting on the floor, your laptop blends in with the modern aesthetic of the coffee table, you feel almost like you are at work. Asha had insisted on some natural elements to the house, which included wood pieces made by her sister and mother. The shelves in the living room were pale wood, as was the coffee table which had black granite as the top to match the fireplace. She said she would also bring in plants to freshen up the place. Nemo was much more minimal than Asha, wanting everything simple, easy, and greyscale. The pops of green Asha’s plants would bring in would almost seem fluorescent against Nemo’s chosen color palette.
To center yourself to start working, you take a deep breath and clear your thoughts. Usually, that does the trick, but today it feels difficult to sweep the cobwebs and clutter in your mind away. Your head feels heavy, pressing your neck into your shoulders, your shoulders tense, your fingers do not want to focus on the keyboard. You breathe deeply again and set to work. There’s work you need to finish on the database that can’t wait.
Outside you hear voices from the courtyard, you stare beyond the scaffolding against the window. The sky is bright blue but in the distance it fades to grey, getting darker the further on it goes before the horizon is nothing but trees. You lose your breath for a split second when something dark skitters across your mind.
The door opens and you turn, ignoring that thought as Nemo walks in. He sighs heavily and turns to look at you. “Oh good, you’re here.” There is a hint of smile to his eyes. “Are you working?”
You nod. “I have to get this done, but I shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“I won’t bother you then. I’m going to get a shower, and if you’d like, when I’m done, we can read together.” He brushes his hair aside, looking down at you with those strange, deep eyes. “Maybe even nap before Asha comes with dinner.”
You smile shyly, imagining being in that king sized bed, curled up in Nemo’s arms while sharing a book. “Hopefully I’ll be done by the time you end your shower.”
Nemo walks over, placing his hand over your eyes before placing a soft kiss upon your forehead. “Take your time.” As his hand slips away, his mask is already returned over his mouth.
You feel bolstered by this affection and quickly return to work. Lately, Nemo had taken to long showers, it was probably one of the few places he could linger and shut off his own mind. Since this pandemic had begun, he had not stopped for a moment. You were proud of him and all his hard work, but he needed his moments of silence too.
Once again, the scaffolding scapes against the side of the building, and like a beetle, that thought scurries through your mind. Asha was working so hard on this garden, not just to make it functional, but something that would look beautiful through each season. She had painstakingly worked every detail out to the letter, and had selected gardeners and caretakers for it she considered perfect. But what if they got sick? What the garden wilted, rotted, and died away?
The scaffolding scapes against the brick, and that awful little thought flits through your mind carelessly again. What if the builders get sick? What if the expansions don’t get done in time and you can’t house all the patients coming in? It was already growing tight in the clinic, you were already having a difficult time procuring beds. What if the nurses get sick? What if your staff gets sick?
That small dark thought grows, looming like the trees in the horizon. It’s jagged and ominous, stretching far out through your mind until it is all that’s presence. What if’s and worry begin to cloud you reason. Panic grips hold of your chest and that tightness makes it feel as though that thought is cranking to pull your chest tighter and tighter until it collapses in upon itself.
You rock back and forth, pulling your knees up to your chest. Your hands shake and tremble, you grip harder to keep them from doing so. You steady your hands, forcing them back onto the keyboard of your laptop. You have to finish, have to get this done.
There’s so much at stake here, so much to consider. There’s so many lives on the line, even more if this project cannot be finished. Nemo is counting on this, Asha is counting on this. What will happen if it has to stop? What if it never comes to be? What will happen if you get sick?
You sign off the database, you shut off you laptop, and nothing is left but your ghostly reflection in the blank computer screen.
That final thought cracks the foundation, the flooding torrent of thoughts forms tears. Right as you’re beginning to sob, you feel as though you’re being watched. Looking up, you see Nemo standing in the hallway, there is a scent of soap and fresh earth in the air. He’s just gotten out of the shower, and he’s found you in such a state.
“What’s the matter?” He moves deeper into the room.
You look away, focusing on that hazy reflection of yourself. “I don’t know,” you whimper. Your throat feels so tight, your chest burns, and you cannot will these tears to stop no matter what you do. Taking a pillow from the sofa, you place upon your knees then bury your face inside it. You can’t take any more questions, you fear Nemo has more, but instead he is silent.
After what feels like hours of sobbing, you lift your head from the pillow and see Nemo sitting protectively nearby on the sofa. You pick yourself up, sitting on the sofa as well. He inches closer and holds his hand out to you. Your place your palm so your fingers touch his wrist, his fingers feel cool against your arm. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, and he returns the touch. You both sit in silence again as he anchors you back into the world. The dark thought is no longer a giant, but that skittering thought is still there.
“You know what you are,” Nemo’s voice is deep and warm. “I see that trauma in you and want to rip it away, but I know it would only hurt you more. I won’t ask for specifics, or for you to explain it to me.” His hand squeezes tighter around your arm. “That would only hurt you more too.” He looks into your eyes, and the swirling green vortex in his grows tighter, and more concentrated. “But I want to help you.”
You place your other hand on his arm as well, keeping a hold of him, keeping yourself there. He’s the only thing that’s real to you now. The rest of the world around you, this new apartment, your bay window, the scaffolding, the garden, none of it feels permanent to you. Just him. You close yours eyes tight, unable to look at anything as it hurts.
“You’re in the perfect place.” He reaches up, brushing his fingers along your cheek and wiping away the tears that remain. “You can find treatment here.” He taps his fingers to the center of your forehead. “Your mind and your body are one, connected, working together. One can affect the other in both horrible and wonderful ways. Right now, you’re cracking like a porcelain doll. The cracks are biggest here.” His fingers trail along your scalp. “But they’re growing bigger and moving down into your body.” He cups his hand under your chin.
“I can feel it,” your voice quivers.
“We’ll be getting a lab tech soon.” His fingers brush through your hair and you open your eyes again. The room feels darker, and his shadows linger along the walls. “And once we have them, we’re opening up a whole new world to explore. We’ll have better access to tests, to medications, better care of our patients as well as you.”
You sniffle and nod silently.
“My love,” he whispers. “Even in those world of constant emergency, we’ll be able to explore a wealth of options for treating this PTSD. Medications, neurofeedback, even-” His voice softly trails off.
“What is it?” You murmur.
There’s a smile to his eyes again. “This might sound like a ridiculous notion to you, especially considering the context of our current conversation. But would you like to play a game with me.”
It certainly is nothing you’d expect, least of all from him. This sounds more like Asha speaking right now. “Well,” you start off unsurely, “what kind of game?”
The smile in his eyes grows bigger. He gently knits his fingers through your hair, moving it away from your forehead. “Excuse the childish name, but let’s call it ‘The Wicked Sorcerer and his Mind Controlled Captive.’”
“Might mouthful,” you chuckle shyly.
“Would you be willing to play along?” Nemo’s tone sounds serious but playful as well. You have to admit, you’re intrigued.
Shakily, you nod your head, nervously swallowing. This is Nemo you’re with, he would never do anything to harm you. He knows you better than you think you know yourself. What he’s suggesting sounds strange, but you trust him.
“Yes.” The whisper escapes, louder than you intended.
Nemo rises and you lose that anchor, but when he takes the armchair across from you, you can feel a tether between you. “Before we begin, understand that I will not force you to do anything your are uncomfortable with, and should you chose to end it, or I sense any distress, the game will end. We will stop playing anytime you decide.”
You nod and grasp your hands over your knees. “I understand.”
“Good.” He sits back stiff in the chair. “Now, I want you to breathe. Take one in through the nose, then, breathe it out through your lips. In and out. In and out. Slow now.”
You do as he asks, taking in those breaths one at a time, slow and rhythmic.
“Focus on those breaths, my love,” his voice is cool is soothing. “Feel them inside you, flowing through you. Each time is like a pulse in a waterfall. It falls and tumbles, then flows into the river once again. The water has known tumultuous rapids, it has been beat against rocks, scraped against sand, but it always flows.”
You take those breaths, going from shaky to smooth. You focus like he asks, taking in your breaths still one at a time. There is a heat as you exhale, breathing fire from your lungs. The tightness has lifted, it no longer feels as though your ribs will pierce through your back. Cold then takes places of the fire as you breath in. The fresh air pours down your throat, wafting leaves on a gentle breeze, and as they fill your lungs they spark and to fire again. You exhale, you inhale.
“There now. That feels good, doesn’t it?” His voice is part of the rhythm, part of the pleasure. “It’s such a simple, easy action to do. To breathe. To listen. It feels good to listen, doesn’t it, my love?”
Your voice and mind are slipping away. Yes, of course it feels good, he should know that. You’re wrapped up in the pleasure of his voice, breathing him in and out as much as air. His voice, his words, they are your air, they are everything you breathe. Your body slips into an unencumbered heaviness, weighted but not frightening. You breathe still, thoughts of pleasure slipping away from you. This is comfort, this is ease. Despite the heaviness, you cold lift your hand if you wanted to. You try, you succeeded. So easy.
You know you could force this feeling away and stand, but that would mean and end to the game, an end to playing with Nemo. You would have to stop listening, and to not listen would mean an end to this bliss. You want this feeling to continue, this comfort, this passion, this pleasure that is growing deep from within. There’s barely a thought in your head now, they’re all unraveling, spooling and spinning, falling far away until there is no thread, no fabric. You can let go of yourself and let your will be exposed and handled by other hands. Nemo’s hands.
Listening to him, you know he can take you. In this state of mindlessness, his hands can mold you into anything he desires. There is nothing wrong with being mindless, it’s just another state of being, and one where fear is something you can transcend. You do not fear Nemo taking controll.
Nemo’s breath is yours, he sighs heavily, so do you. “Now-kneel.” His tone is ominous yet silky. It caresses your skin and smooths down your body, making you rise then drop to your knees before him.
You’re uncertain when this happened, it was all so fast you couldn’t take it in. All you can do now is breathe and listen, it’s all your want. Your heart hammers excitedly, even when your mind is dazed, foggy, and blissful.
“Come closer now,” Nemo whispers. He curls his fingers. “Come now, my love.”
You crawl across the floor towards him, kneeling at his feet and gazing up at him. His fingers slip under your chin, holding you strongly yet tenderly. He could crush you or he could pamper you. It didn’t matter, you were his and only his.
“You belong to me,” he says sternly. “Now and forever, you are mine to hold. I am victorious today. Holding you, controlling you, all when you could have so easily run away. I am your master now, and you must call me such. Understand?”
There is a deep pleasure you’re drawing from this. Your excitement is honest and pure, this feeling of being in his control is not the frightening one you had expected. You could melt for him if he so commanded it.
“Understand?” He says sharply.
“Yes, master,” you voice trembles with weakness.
His fingers tighten. “I do not believe you. Say it again. Louder this time.”
“Yes, master,” you pant out.
Nemo smiles from beneath his mask. “What did I say? Again.”
Your heart leaps in jubilation at the boom of his voice. “Yes, master!” You cry out in passion.
Nemo eases back in his chair, his fingers release you. “That’s very good. I’m pleased. But now, I want to see this devotion that permeates your voice. Give me a token of that fealty.”
Falling to your hands, you stoop low before him. There is nothing else you can think of to do. To be fair, you can’t even think. You dip down, brushing your lips against his bare foot. You do so again against his ankle, his leg.
Nemo’s hands tighten on the arms of the chair. His breath comes out strained, almost like he’s holding back a pleasured moan. He’s hiding his own joy in this moment. His eyes glow bright as you move to his other leg, kissing up until you reach his knee. His fingers comb through your hair, stroking your scalp, kneading the back of your neck. You lean into this touch, wanting so much more of it, wanting it harder.
“With this devotion I could reshape you,” he moans. “I could take you and cut into you with my scalpel, peel away the flesh, reveal the bone. Spread you with the forceps and pull out your beating heart with my bare hands. I could puncture you with needles, fill your body to the brim. Each vein fit to burst. And yes-” his voice is a low growl. “All you would feel is this sublime, perfect, ecstasy. You would become something extraordinary, all for me. Our joy would be one single perfect thing.” His hand cups your cheek tenderly.
“My love,” the ominous and haughty tone he had before fades away. Your lashes flutter as a gentleness permeates his every move. “It’s time to wake up. Lift the veil and open your eyes to me. When I count to ten and you awaken, my love, you will be freed from those dark compulsions. But I want you to remember, this pleasure and this trust you have discovered now. Those feelings, they have not died inside you, or else I would not have been able to bring you here. Hold onto them. Make them like muscles in you, and grow them stronger each day.” His fingers remove from your body. “Now one, two-”
You take in a breath as cold as ice, and as your eyes flutter awake, you gaze up at him. Everything goes in reverse as you mind knits back into itself, the fabric forms, it flutters and gathers, folding itself together until your mind has returned.
“Nemo?” Your voice quivers.
“I’m here.” Nemo helps you from the ground and pulls you into his lap. You rest against him, burying your face against his chest. You feel so relieved, so simple. It’s easier to hold him, to be held.
After a long while, you raise your head. “Did you hypnotize me?”
“I believe that’s what I just did.” He smooths his fingers under your eyes. In his own eyes you see his smile, his gentle want. “Almost like anesthesia, but on a different level. More on the mind than the whole of the body.”
“Have you done this before?”
Nemo inhales. “No,” his once assured and powerful voice is now sheepish and timid. “I must confess, I wasn’t sure this would work. I had to do a lot of research, I had to figure out my words extremely carefully. I wasn’t even sure you would be receptive, let alone as affected as you were. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to help you.”
“I can’t explain it,” you murmur. You cup your hands over your chest. “Once you took control I felt so happy. I was so relieved and so-” You smile at him and happily cuddle back to his chest. “Thank you! This was so kind!”
Nemo relaxes and hugs you into a tight embrace. “I’m relieved as well. Now that we know this works, we can continue it as a treatment for you. We can build up your strength, we can train you to be less sensitive to the pain, and more susceptible to the joy. If you’re up to it, we can start a hypnosis therapy soon.” He then clears his throat nervously. “Hopefully, in a less festishtic setting.”
You raise up to kiss his temple. “I like it,” you whisper. “But I would very much enjoy the hypnotherapy as well. Thank you so much.”
“All I want to do is help you and hold you,” he whispers. “I will work my fingers to the bone to assure you and Asha are happy and healthy. You’re my comfort, the least I should do is comfort you in return.” He nuzzles to the top of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your hair.
You rest against him again, enjoying the silence and warmth of the room. Nemo soon stands, carrying you to the master bedroom. You lay back while he reads, taking in the comfort of his voice, remembering how it took hold of you before. You soon drift to sleep, unencumbered by thought or worry. It’s the first time you’ve done this so easily, but it won’t be the last.
