A Welcome Trespasser


De. Ci. Ma. Tion.

Even in your sleep, your chest tightens at the mere thought of the word, and a renewed restlessness seeps into you despite your body’s desire to remain sedated.

Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation…

The familiar voice whispers it to you again and again, saying the unforgettable word over and over, taunting you with his persistence.

His eyes plead even as the rest of his face feigns resolve, unable to truly hide the weight of your circumstance.

I’m so sorry…

Yet, no matter how many times you say it, it’s not enough.

It will never be enough.

Your chest burns at the memory, constricting as the air rushes from your lungs. He continues to look at you in silence; the despair behind his eyes haunting, begging for mercy.

Mercy you’d been unable to show.

Mercy you’d been unable to give.

Because you were a coward.


Your body is at conflict with both your mind and your immediate environment, a slow stream of chaos threatening to expedite the ambivalence you feel.

Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Decimation. Deci—

All at once, everything goes dead silent.

The voice suddenly disappears, nowhere to be heard anymore, leaving you in a strange, uncomfortable place of solitude.

But, soon after, you sense the energy around you shift considerably as you continue to sleep, going from stoic and stunted waves to free-flowing, unhindered vibrations.

Your mind hums in sync with this new energy’s pace, and it seems to make the energy inside you go through the same rapid transition.

You quickly begin to feel relaxed, your body loosening and unwinding like a slinky stretched completely straight. The tension that’s been bunched up in you for days starts to escape, leaving your muscles without hesitation, seeping out of them like water out of a broken pipe.

You feel…strangely fluid; sated and at ease, in a way you don’t think you ever have.

You also begin to feel something else.

Turned on?

You can’t entirely be certain, but it kind of feels that way.

It’s hard to explain. You feel strangely energized, with a renewed sense of vitality and purpose—which is crazy considering all the events in the last week and a half, and what’s still to come.

Including this issue of decimation.

Abruptly, right out of nowhere, you feel a hard blow to your face and the accompanying sting of its effect on your cheek.

Your eyes fly open and immediately go into attack mode without thinking, acting solely on impulse, ready to pulverize your assailant.

A rogue Metalli, is all you can think.

You easily flip the perpetrator onto his stomach, pushing him head-first into the pillow.

You vaguely register muffled screams that sound far too effeminate to be male, and slowly, consciousness begets clarity, and soon you realize what you’re doing, and more importantly, who you’re doing it to.


Holy fucking hell…

You instantly release your grip on her head and pulled her up for air. She instinctively swats at you in fear, which is understandable.

She breathes hard and audibly, taking in huge gulps of air. You will more lights on and see her form clearly. She has one of her hands on her chest, still struggling to breathe normally as your own hands continue to hold her down.

After a few moments, she regains her composure—well, a tiny bit of it, anyway—and you can’t help but stare at her as she lies underneath you.

When you can finally force your lips to move, all you can manage is, “Ki…Kitty-Cat?”

It’s more of a confirmation of her presence than a question. Your voice is strained from the usual grogginess that comes with sleep, as well the shock of actually seeing her again so unexpectedly.

And in such a manner, no less.

Her hand moves from her chest to her neck as she clears her throat, and instinctively, your eyes follow the motion, only to linger on her slender column as she rubs at the bare skin there.

There are subtle hints of redness where you gripped it, and while you didn’t meant to hurt her, the thought of wrapping your fingers around her neck again is undeniable gratifying.

Her lips slant into a deep frown, enunciating their fullness. She looks up at you again. Her eyes are seething and her glare is unapologetic, boring into you with unveiled irritation and disbelief.

“What the hell is your problem?” she barks incredulously, her voice dripping with accusation.

Despite your innate enthusiasm at seeing her again, her hostile tone encourages a frown of your own.

Me?” you counter, your eyebrow arching impulsively. “What the hell is your problem, slapping me like that while I’m sleeping?”

Before she can say anything else, the comforter slides off both your bodies as you adjust yourself on the bed, and what you see next literally steals your breath.

Her body.

Her entire fucking body.

Completely naked.

Wedged between you and your bed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you swear under your breath, unable to tear your gaze away from her bare body.

Unable and unwilling.

I think I just fucking died from optical failure and went straight to seventh heaven.

Instantly, you feel your cock jump, excitement and lust rushing carelessly through your body, threatening to eat you alive.

You can’t stop looking at her.

Admiring her.

Her body is so fucking sexy; gentle slopes and curves in all the right places, all bundled into a unique, quiet sensuality.

Simultaneously erotic and innocent.

A paradox of sorts.

One you don’t think you’ve witnessed with anyone; mortal or otherwise.

Her eyes move down the length your torso and settle there, her gaze suddenly drenched in absolute shock.

Shock and… something else.

That’s when you realize:

She’s staring at your dick.

You hear the faintest hint of a sigh as she inhales, suppressing what you’re sure would have been a very audible gasp.

You almost can’t believe what you’re seeing. Can’t believe that she’s right here, sprawled so obscenely underneath you with all the innocence in the world etched into her face.

You want to touch her.


But you have to get your wits about you before her scent completely takes over your senses and any chance at coherence again.

“What are you?” you ask in all seriousness, trying with incredible effort to ignore your raging hard-on.

Her eyes meet yours again, slightly glassy now. “Pissed off,” she retorts, her brows furrowed. Her upper lip is taut with tension, her mouth still drawn into a frown, and you’re even more tempted to bite on it now.

You find yourself chuckling at her feistiness. You realize that you actually like the fact that she doesn’t walk on eggshells around you.


While you would normally find that kind of behavior irritating, with her, you can only shake your head in amusement.

“You seem to have a thing for trespassing, Kitty-Cat,” you say, on the verge of panting as your eyes continue to devour her perky tits.

“You seem to have a thing for groping me every chance you get, Grim,” she shoots back, her voice raspy, her tone telling. She’s all too aware of where your gaze is.

You arch your brow, your eyes rising to meet hers again. “Grim?”

“My new nickname for you,” she says simply. “Since you seem to have a thing for those, too,” she adds wryly. She has a daring smile in her eyes that doesn’t transcend her lips, like she knows she’s testing you and is having a swell time doing so. She slightly cocks her head to the side in a small show of defiance, emphasizing her words.

Your lips curve in a wide smile, and you can do nothing to stop them. You breathe in, relaxing your grip on her but still holding her firmly in place. You bring your face closer to hers in a false show of intimidation, your lips just inches apart.

“Do you make a habit of just waltzing onto other people’s property whenever you feel like it?”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the action only enhances the warmth of their dark brown color. “Do you make it a habit of strangling people in your sleep?”

“Only ones that invade my home,” you retort, suppressing a chuckle. “And do you always have to have a snarky comeback for everything?”

“Only when I’m getting strangled,” she counters, and the raspiness of her voice is even more sensual than you remember it.

This time, you can’t stop the low laugh that rumbles in your chest. “Oh, you’re having a ball just firing away at me, aren’t you?”

She arches her brow, mimicking you. “Oh, I haven’t even started yet.” She tries to suppress a smile as she speaks, but fails. Her lovely lips curve up into a mischievous grin as her warm eyes dare you to go on.

A smirk finds its way onto your own mouth, and you’re about to make another attempt at a comeback when a very familiar wave hits you like a million bulldozers.

Her scent.


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