Date Night With The Grim Reaper

Subject: Date Night with the Grim Reaper

Preheader:

Content Warnings: This story includes stalking by the Grim Reaper, an attempted suicide (off-page) that the narrator is a bit flippant about, humanly impossible sex with a very large smoky appendage, and mentions of close family, coworker, and pet deaths (off-page), which the narrator views as "romantic" rather than upsetting. The narrative voice on this one is meant to be humorously delulu and is definitely not an accurate representation of any mental illnesses or trauma.

The Ultra Rosa flavor of Monster could count as ambrosia, right? I stared at the instructions in my grimoire, then contemplated the pink can in my fist. That witch I met at a sex party last year said that spell ingredients weren't always

literal

. Because, like, why would anyone rip out a poor little newt's eyes, y'know? It would totally discriminate against vegan witches! So a spell that called for "ambrosia", which Google said was the fruit of the gods that gave them immortality and power, could probably substitute in Monster Energy Drink, right? Original recipe 4Loko would've been better, but Ultra Rosa was the second best option. Because no way an Ancient Greek mind could've conceived of a zero-sugar, uber-caffeinated pink lemonade the color of cotton candy. So, like, it was probably basically the same thing as ambrosia.

I poured my last can into the cauldron and crossed my fingers. And my toes. The grimoire I stole from that witch while she was experiencing anal for the first time and too busy to notice me snooping in her house said that the liquid would turn pitch black and bubble if it worked right. Did it mean sparkling bubbles or like boiling water bubbles? I guess I would find out. A real witch probably got trained on stuff like that, but I wasn't a witch. I was just

extremely determined

and willing to ruin my best saucepan to see my boyfriend again. He totally couldn't doubt my loyalty once He saw I used my favorite mac-n-cheese pot to summon Him. Hopefully He didn't ask too many questions about how many dicks I sucked between the front door of that sex party and the secret lair in the basement to get to this grimoire.

I adjusted my top, pulling it even lower on my chest so that He'd be too distracted by my tits to ask silly questions like that. Not that He'd ever asked me any questions before. But that was just because He was shy! And today I was going to change all of that. No more hovering ominously over my bed while EMT's tried to resuscitate me. No more leaving dogs in my driveway so I could accidentally run them over just to have an excuse to drop by. It was time to DTR because I was DTF and it wasn't the 1700s. He didn't need to meet my parents and my aunt Brenda and my boss before we could do it! I mean sure, I get it, you date an immortal eldritch being and you have to expect some old-fashioned sensibilities. But enough was enough already! I wanted to find out what He was hiding under those shadowy black robes and show Him what I had under my black leather miniskirt. Again.

My nana always said a watched pot never boils, so I decided to check all of my wards and bindings one last time. He was

not

getting out of this room without Defining The Relationship. Or at least having, like, a single conversation with me. According to the grimoire, the Grim Reaper would be completely under my control once He was summoned inside the pink chalk lines I drew on my apartment floors. I was more of a submissive type myself but in my experience, when you're dealing with a shy guy, sometimes you have to top from the bottom to give them a little confidence boost. I just hoped the cute little table and chairs I put inside the circle didn't mess up the lines and let Him go without at

least

a little kissing action.

I checked that all the guests were still in their spots, fluffed up the black bow in my hair in the mirror, admired how my nipple rings with the little skulls on them stood out under my tiny pink top, and then went back to check on my 'cauldron'. The concoction had turned as black and impenetrable as the hole in His hood where most people had a face, and as I watched, one giant bubble slowly rose from the top and then burst. I squealed and spun around, looking for my man.

On every surface in the living room, my pink candles' flames flared high. The cute pink crystal ball I had on a bookshelf turned pitch black. So did the thrifted white Fran Drescher-style fur coat where it hung on a coat rack, before decomposing until it collapsed to the floor in a pile of ash. The grimoire next to my now-bubbling saucepan started to seep something purplish blackish out of its pages like it was bleeding. Oops. I'd totally meant to return that!

I was frantically dabbing paper towels on it to try to stop the mess from spreading when I felt Him. It was just like that time I accidentally on purpose almost kind of temporarily killed myself. I'd been lying there, my chest hurting like you wouldn't believe because the EMT's were giving me CPR, and then...there He was. And I knew immediately who He was, too. Even if He hadn't been wearing the cool shadowy robe with the hood and the menacing smoke. I'd known He was there to take me to wherever He took people like me. He'd hovered over me and it was love at first sight. For both of us, I was sure of it. I'd stared up at Him and He'd stared down at me and we'd just shared this incredible emotional, erotic connection. And then those assholes had whisked me out of there to a hospital before I could even tell Him my name!

And then there'd been the first dog. And He'd stood there looking down at it (breaking news: all dogs maybe do go to Heaven!), and then He'd looked at me. And I'd been so excited to see Him again that I hadn't really been able to say anything except a lame "

hi.

" I was way more prepared by the third dog. Which, by the way, total tragedy that was

so

not my fault! I definitely usually sometimes used my rearview mirrors! And anyway why didn't anyone ever keep their dogs on leashes or behind fences?! But by the third one, I knew what was up and I did what any reasonable woman would do when she was being stalked by a stupidly handsome guy who left her little dead dog presents like a cat providing for its humans: I spread my legs and flashed my waxed pussy at Him.

Then He went and killed my mom and dad like the hero in a regency romance asking for the hand of the virginal debutant He just compromised. Which was like

so

romantic of Him, even if it was a little old fashioned and totally bummed me out for a little while.

When I turned around in my kitchen to look at Him, He was somehow even more handsome than I remembered. 8 feet tall, broad-shouldered, made entirely of smoke and darkness. I couldn't see His face under His hood, but I felt His eyes on me. I posed for a moment to let Him take in how cute I looked for Him, and then launched myself into His arms. Or, well, not really

His arms,

because He clearly had some toxic masculinity stuff going on, but I did hug Him around His shadowy waist for a long, long moment even though He didn't hug me back.

"I missed you," I said, pressing my ear to His almost corporeal chest and reveling in the shrieks of terror and pain I heard coming faintly from inside Him. For a moment, I swore I heard Aunt Brenda scream as her car careened off a cliff. I never thought I'd get to hear her voice again. He was so good to me!

He didn't respond but that made sense. Men had such a hard time with affection.

"Come, sit down," I led Him over to one of the chairs by the table, which was way too small for His massive frame, but didn't so much as squeak under His weight.

That soul-penetrating gaze of His turned on our guests. Mr. and Mrs. Bear smiled at Him politely, Thomas my tattered bunny had big heart eyes for Him, showcasing his usual indomitable spirit, and even Pink the Eye, a cool scientifically-accurate stuffed eyeball I got at a museum exhibit about dead bodies, was only staring a little rudely over her teacup. Which was honestly progress for her, she'd always been kind of a bitch. But everyone at the table knew how long I'd been looking for love and even if they weren't so sure about the Grim Reaper, I knew they wanted me to be happy.

I looked at my table setting through His eyes as I sat down across from Him. The pale pinky doily tablecloth and pink tiered cake tray were probably a little too girly for Him. But the teacups were black, and so were the little saucers they sat on. And really, if a cake tray was girly, did it matter when the tiny little cupcakes on it were from the best bakery in town? The longer He sat in silence, surveying it all, the more I wondered if it really did.

"I've, um, never planned a first date before, so I googled it. And they suggested having a picnic, and since an indoor picnic is basically just a tea party, I thought we could do this," I babbled nervously.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"Do you have a tea preference?" I asked nervously, fidgeting. "I have so many flavors. I picked this rose one because it pairs the best with the cupcakes but if you're more of like an earl gray kind of guy, I can totally make some of that."

He continued to stare at me.

"You're not a very big talker, are you?"

Silence.

I took a shaky breath and straightened my shoulders. He was totally staring at my tits now, I could tell. Even if I couldn't see His eyes under His hood. "Well, that's ok. Trust me, I can talk more than enough for the both of us. I'll just," I waved at the table, "do things as planned and you just let me know if you don't like anything, ok?"

I didn't wait for a response this time. I bustled around making my favorite tea in the cute black tea pot and surreptitiously threw the grimoire in the sink so its sludge would be contained. I was totally going to have to buy a new book for that witch. It was so cute, too, with its little pink crystal moons on the front! Such a shame.

I poured everyone their tea, starting with the stuffies so He could admire my ass as I bent over, then His cup so He could look down my shirt. Then I settled in and started talking. Since He was the strong silent type and probably needed a little bit of help opening up. I told Him my name and what I did for work--though of course He knew, He even talked to my favorite boss George about me, the gentleman. I talked about how I summoned Him before He could ask too many questions about the "party" where I found the grimoire, and how nice everyone had been since my parents' funeral. Thomas, Pink and the Bears didn't say much, but that was ok. They were more there for chaperoning purposes, since He was such an old-fashioned guy.

It was one of the best dates I'd ever been on. He didn't say much (well,

anything

), but He listened so attentively to everything I said. He didn't drink His tea or eat any of the cupcakes, but that was probably my fault for not calling ahead. He probably already ate lunch. The longer I sat across from Him, the more I

felt

Him. The smoke around His black cloak lapped at my legs under the table like I was sitting by the ocean as the tide came in. He had this undeniable aura around Him, but it was the total opposite of every strong aura guy I'd ever gone out with. It

sucked

rather than

pushed

, as if wordlessly inviting me in. And boy, did I want in. I wanted to know His deepest insecurities, wanted to hold His hand while He did something difficult, wanted to be His cheerleader when He reached His goals. Maybe it was arrogant to think the Grim Reaper of all people needed a cheerleader or a hand to hold, but, well... didn't everyone? Just because He was death itself didn't mean He didn't deserve to be loved.

The sucking aura that was slowly killing and decomposing every plant in my apartment was also... doing things to me. Or maybe it was the way He listened. Whatever it was, the more His smoke caressed my bare thighs and His heavy gaze saw into my soul, the more turned on I felt. My hips under the table began to rock into His touch, trying to sneak Him a little higher under my skirt. My nipples were hard under my shirt and I knew He could see them. Could see the flush on my cheeks, the way my eyes were dilated, the way I was beginning to pant with longing.

"Do you want dessert?" I finally asked, hoping He knew what I meant.

He didn't, the sweet boy. I could tell He was confused even though He didn't react.

"Do you mind if

I

have dessert?" I teased, rubbing my thighs together.

He seemed to look at the half-devoured cupcakes on my plate this time, but I couldn't be entirely sure. I was too flustered and excited now to care. "Everybody!" I looked at my other guests. "Time to go home."

I picked up my stuffies and returned them to my bedroom.. The Bears were married after all! I did

not

want to have to do marriage counseling again with them after the last time they watched me with a boyfriend. Mr. Bear had been a little too into the action for Mrs. Bear's liking. Besides, this was my first time with my most favorite boyfriend I'd ever had! We could get kinky with an audience another time.

"Ok," I said in a rush, coming to stand in front of Him.

I stared at Him, about eye level with me now, and tried to decide where I wanted to start. There were so many things I wanted to do with Him. He'd been circling around me for months, leaving me presents and talking to my family. I had worn out all of my vibrators multiple times imagining what I would do if He ever got up the courage to ask me out. Well, now, here we were, at the end of a very successful first date, and it seemed it was up to me to decide.

It wasn't a hard choice.

I sunk down on my knees between His spread thighs, maintaining eye contact. I think. It really was hard to tell. Maybe He had more than two eyes. But I understood that some things required trust, and trust had to be built over time. Maybe He was totally insecure about His two thousand horrible eyes. Or maybe He had acne. I'd show HIm that it didn't matter. He was beautiful to me because I loved Him. He'd more than proven how strongly He felt for me by the way He had decimated all my closest familial and work connections. If you looked at it in a certain light, He was just making sure He would be as much the center of my universe as I had clearly become to Him. He didn't trust that I could feel the same way on my own, but I'd prove that I totally did.

"You can leave whenever you want," I told Him quietly, in case the wards in the apartment made Him uncomfortable. "And you can always say 'no'. It won't hurt my feelings. I just want to make you feel good."

As I spoke, I slid my hands up His thick, half-corporeal legs. I loved the way He felt like smoke and water and skin all at once. One moment, I was touching thick, solid thighs encased in something wispy like steam, and the next His skin gave beneath my palms, evaporating into smoke. The way He took up space but also gave at the slightest push from me was like the perfect metaphor for our relationship until now: He killed someone just to see me, then disappeared the moment I tried to talk to Him. He wanted me, pursued me, but then was too self-conscious to follow-through. What if I didn't like Him? What if I was just putting up with Him because the power imbalance between us was crazy? Now that our roles were reversed, I totally understood how daunting it must've been to try to connect to me. But if His killing my family had taught me anything, it was that life was too short to waste it being insecure and wishy-washy.

He wondered if I could love Him back? I'd make sure He walked out of here

knowing

I did.

I slid my hands up His thighs and tried to find His junk in the shadows of His robe. It was time to DTG. Define The Genitals. Would it be a cock or a pussy or something entirely different? Would it be at all human-like? Would there be more than one? Would it taste good? His robes didn't seem to have edges that I could part open to

see

what He was rocking, but I could reach through them when they gave like mist around my fingers to touch what was underneath them.

It was a cock. A really,

really

big cock.

Staring up into His hooded face, I tried to get a grip on the dimensions of it. It flowed through my hands, giving and solidifying just like His legs had. I couldn't get fingers all the way around it, it was so thick, and I felt myself starting to slick my panties in anticipation. The more I touched, running my hand up and up, the more He seemed to slide out of my grip, like I could never find the tip. It reminded me of those wiggly tube toys I had as a kid, and I bit my lip so He wouldn't think I was laughing at him. My boyfriend had the perfect fidget toy in His incorporeal pants.

That reminded me.

"By the way," I said, putting my other hand on His cock as well to help hold it in place and increase how much pleasure I could give Him. "I know it's only been a couple of months, but I'd really like to make this official. I like labels."

I licked my lips at the way He felt in my hands, so soft and slippery and tingly. It felt like little whisps of dry ice smoke were twining between my fingers the more I touched Him. The flowing darkness of His robes had encompassed my body kneeling between His knees, and I felt the same lapping ocean tide gliding between my thighs. I didn't think it was intentional, because it always did that, but it sure felt nice and teasing against my damp panties.

"Can we be boyfriend-girlfriend?" I asked, shuffling forward so my chest was pressed to His thighs. To make it easier on my arms to jerk Him off, obviously. Not because it let me rub my tight nipples against Him for relief.

He didn't respond, and I wondered if I was moving too fast.

"It's just that," I shifted forward a little more, dragging my nipples over His cool, wispy robes, "My therapist told me it was really important to be respected before I went all the way with someone. That since I used to use sex for validation, I should wait until I'm in a committed relationship to do stuff like this again."

The way His cock gave and solidified in my grip almost felt like a pulse. Like He was so hard for me He was

throbbing.

"I know you don't want to take advantage of me," I whispered, feeling saliva fill my mouth in anticipation. "So if you're not ready to be my boyfriend, just say so and I'll stop."

He didn't say anything. And He didn't try to stop me.

Love filled me up so much it felt like I had to be glowing with it. My first real grown-up boyfriend! If I was still in therapy, Dr. C would be so proud of me!

I tried to maintain what I assumed was eye contact with the dark pit under His hood as I leaned forward to finally put His lovely, throbbing cock in my mouth. It tasted like water tasted-a sort of not-flavor that was still a flavor, so natural and essential to my being that I immediately recognized it even without ever having it on my tongue before. "I love you," I mumbled as I slid more of Him into my mouth. The give and take of His matter made it easy to get past my lips that couldn't quite open wide enough for Him, allowed Him to fill my mouth, caress my tongue, tease the back of my throat without inciting my gag reflex. It was probably too soon to say the L-word, but hopefully He didn't hear it. Though He had to know, right? We were cosmically connected, I'd known it the moment I died, and I knew it now with how

right

it felt to suck His cock.

I used my hands on the parts I couldn't fit down my throat, twisting and tugging on His sort-of-rigid, sort-of-smoky length while I bobbed my head. I was going to be the best head He'd ever gotten or I was going to die choking on Him and be able to spend eternity with Him. Drool slid out around my lips and I loved the way it felt on my palms mixing with His strange darkness. I pushed myself to the base of His cock and my face disappeared completely into His robes. Light and color twined in the darkness of Him, like pressing hard on my closed eyelids after staring directly at a bright light. They formed some sort of strange catacomb in my vision, pulling me deeper and deeper in. I felt hands reaching for me, heard the voices of my dead calling for me, beckoning me to them.