Nightmares: Chapter 5
Title: Nightmares: Chapter 5
Pairing: Mooka! Matty/Phooka
Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations, angst, references to child molestation and abuse. M/M pairing, if you can't pull on your big girl panties and deal with that, don't read it!
More Mooka!
Matty gets his revenge on Daddy Rob.
It was early evening when Rob was greeted by the sight of Phooka carrying a folding table down the basement steps. Matty followed him carrying a box. Both men were humming cheerfully, their faces beaming and cheeks rosy. Phooka set up the table and Matty set the box down on it. The blonde squeaked when Phooka slipped one hand down the back of Matty’s board shorts and fondled his rump.
The pair shared a kiss, then went back upstairs.
They returned a few minutes later with two folding chairs and another box. Rob didn’t start to whimper until the kelpie came down the stairs carrying a small hibachi grill, Matty close behind with a bag of charcoal.
“I do have one question,” Matty announced, prying open the small basement windows.
Phooka set the grill under them, obviously meaning to use the portals for ventilation.
“Hmmm?”
“If we’re going to do this while he’s still alive, won’t the neighbors hear the screaming?”
Rob moaned in distress.
“Fairy Glamour, annsachd!” Phooka said with a grin. “The neighbors will hear something, but it will be a chainsaw, a leaf blower, power tools, loud music,” the kelpie shrugged. “whatever makes sense for them to hear. The human mind is astonishing; you tell it what it’s not hearing or seeing and it fills in the blanks rather nicely.”
“Huh.” Matty turn his attention back to the boxes.
Rob thought his mind would break when he watched his former stepson pull out a red and white checkered table cloth and spread it over the card table.
Two elegant place settings were arranged on either side of the small table, then the ensemble was topped off with a single taper candle in a tall holder.
Phooka, in the meantime, had ripped open the charcoal bag and dumped an appropriate amount into the hibachi. After a few false starts, he managed to light them.
“You wont get mad if I have to step out for this, right? I’ve never stuck around for something like this before.” Matty said quietly, two empty wine glasses chiming together in his hands.
“It’s for you,” Phooka returned, just as quietly. “You’ve seen me eat people before.”
“Not like this,” Matty returned. “Not . . . . One gourmet-sized bite at a time. Not carving off bits while they’re still living.”
A whimpering moan of terror from Rob, and the sudden smell of ammonia as his bladder let go.
“You usually kill pretty quickly and just munch them up afterwards.”
Phooka was quiet for a moment.
Eventually, he sighed roughly.
“This is for you, annsachd,” The elf said sadly. “It won’t be the same if you aren’t here to witness it. But . . . .if you cannot bear the sight of it . . . .I shall understand.”
Matty's lower lip trembled and his eyes sheened wetly. He looked uncertainly at Rob, and then back at Phooka. Again to Rob, then to the hibachi... and then, back to Phooka. A few moments later, he sniffed back whatever sobs he might have given and blinked quickly. His head gave a few jerky nods.
"I-I'm sorry," he said, his voice warbling slightly. "Don't be mad at me, Phooka! I'm just a... a... a stupid little coward! I'll stay. I want to be brave! For you; I want to be brave for you."
Phooka’s expression softened and he stepped towards his lover, catching the blonde youth’s chin in his fingers and tilting his head back.
“Don’t cry, annsachd.” The fairy murmured, placing a gentle kiss upon his mortal’s lips. “You aren’t stupid. Mo gra thu!”
Straightening, the elf turned away from his beloved and towards his main course.
“Attend, mortal! You will have the honor of being the first to die because my beloved wishes it!”
Matty's eyes widened. No matter how many times he heard Phooka declare his love for him, it still thrilled him down to the depths of his soul to hear it. Wrapping his arms around himself in a tight hug, bracing against a delicious shiver, Matty uttered a soft, "Mweeeeee!" of delight.
His gaze, as he looked at Phooka, was completely besotted.
Rob stared up at the approaching monster in horror. He only noticed the carving knife the elf held in one hand when Phooka grabbed one of his legs and pulled the limb out straight. Then, slowly and meticulously, the kelpie carved out a nice-sized steak out of Daddy Rob’s thigh.
“Do you have that sauce I like ready for the grill, annsachd? His flesh is nicely marbled with fat. Would you like a slice as well?”
The mortal man screamed desperately against the pain in his leg. The only thing that kept the sound from being unbearable in the enclosed space was the duct tape over Rob’s mouth.
Matty swallowed roughly. He'd seen the victim of a shark attack, once; seen the great, gaping rents in the body that had been slashed deep into the flesh by a carnivorous, mindless beast. It hadn't been any prettier then than it was now, and it was somehow... scarier... this way because Phooka was anything but mindless.
He was also the most wonderful being on the planet, as far as Matty was concerned. Gorgeous, sexy, a virile lover, and now... this amazing creature loved him. Of all the people on the earth the kelpie could have chosen... he'd chosen Matty.
Battling back his nausea, Matty said, "The sauce is ready, love. But... no, thanks. I'm really not hungry." He offered a tremulous smile, hoping to take the sting out of the rejection.
“All right; I’ll set one aside for you if you change your mind later.”
Phooka lifted the steak on the end of the knife blade, leaving Rob gushing blood. The elf went over to the hibachi and laid the meat on the grill. The slab of human flesh hissed loudly as it came in contact with the hot metal.
“You are a true artist of the palate, Matty. It amazes me that you can make such delicious dishes with human flesh when you’ve never even tasted it yourself.” Phooka laid a kiss on his lover’s blond hair, then picked up a cooler than had lain unnoticed in the junk of the basement.
“I’m going to harvest some more while dinner cooks. Call me when it’s ready, annsachd.”
Rob screamed again when he saw the elf approaching again, this time with a cooler in tow.
Matty took up some grill tongs and a basting brush. He dipped the brush into the slightly spicy, tangy sauce that held a piquant of flavor, but was delicate enough to not overpower the taste of human flesh that Phooka so enjoyed. He basted the flesh steak and tugged it a tiny bit with the tongs, straightening it more perfectly over the heat.
Suddenly, he found himself thinking of the "Dead" movies, where Zombies roamed the earth. Phooka had had several things to giggle about and pick apart over those movies -- in particular that tag-line about "when hell is full, the dead will walk" -- but Matty imagined himself, suddenly, as a short-order cook for Zombies. He could see himself, in a cap and apron, cooking flesh steaks and patties and links over a hot griddle and stove, and slinging out orders to a line of zombies that went lurching by.
Matty giggled quietly to himself and watched the steak carefully so he'd know precisely went to turn it over.
“Love!” Phooka said suddenly, and the warm, relaxed tone of his voice almost turned it into ‘luv’. “Would you like a good, hard stab before he’s too far gone to feel it?” The kelpie held up the blood stained carving knife.
The elf’s expression was one of warm, open delight; here was someone who was sharing something with the one they most adored in the world and couldn’t be happier about it.
“Go on, you’ve earned it. Fair play to you!”
Again, that almost-slip into what Matty realized suddenly was probably an Irish accent. Phooka had been in the U.S. for two hundred years; how relaxed and happy did he have to be to slip into his native mode of speech?
Matty stared at his lover for a moment, and then at Rob. He didn't really want to; he'd been stabbed before, so he knew how badly it hurt. And he'd even stabbed someone once before, long before Phooka came along, in a self-defense move -- just a quick, sharp poke with a key, but it had kept him from being raped. So he also knew what it felt like to stab.
Deciding that he could use the excuse of "I have to check the steak now" to get out of doing anything truly... deep... to Rob, Matty came over to where Phooka waited.
Phooka gave Matty a smile that would have looked more at home on a Prince Charming from a fairy tale.
“There you are, love. He hurt you; you can hurt him back now. Then we’ll feast on him and he’ll be out of your life forever.”
The elf handed the blonde youth the knife, wrapping his hand carefully around the blade.
“Push with the heel of your hand and don’t let your hand slip off when it goes in or you’ll cut your fingers.
Matty nodded and took a deep breath. He didn't look Rob in the eye as he chose a random, unbloodied spot, and gave a swift poke with the knife. He followed Phooka's direction; pushed with the heel and kept his grip secure, so the knife went in.
Rob gave a long, sobbing whine that rippled to form Matty's name -- muffled, of course, but still audible.
Matty looked up.
The monster that had used him, abused him, and terrified him for so long was no longer visibly there. This was just a sad, old, paunchy man that was crying and bleeding and snotting all over himself. This was a man who was scared out of his mind...
...and feeling sorry for himself.
It was so clear in the way the eyebrows hunched; the pleading expression of the face; the color of Rob's eyes. The man was sorry he was in his current predicament, but not sorry for what he'd done to Matty.
What he did to you, murmured a voice that sounded a lot like the court-appointed rape counselor. This man hurt you. He didn't care about you -- he cared only about what he could get out of you. He didn't see you as a soul to be cherished; he saw you as a resource. Besides... what do you think he came here for? Phooka said Rob came to the house voluntarily. Why else would he be there if not to get revenge on you for the unmitigated gall of turning him in?
Matty bared his teeth in sudden anger. "Is that why you came here? To get back at me for turning you in? Not to say you were sorry for hurting me, but to punish me even more?"
There was a very brief second when the truth was evident in Rob’s eyes.
Phooka took a step backwards. Here was where his beloved would take the opportunity to get some form of revenge on the beast who had wronged him. This was what the mortal youth needed; Phooka had thought he could coax Matty through with subtler forms of revenge, like eating Rob’s flesh but sometimes humans just needed to get their hands dirty.
Phooka would intervene if it looked like Matty might cut himself on the knife, but aside from that, the young man could chop his former step father into mincemeat and the kelpie wouldn’t lift a finger to stop him.
Matty trembled as rage and pain and nausea rose up wildly within him.
"You -- sick -- bastard," he snarled.
His arm flashed forward.
Rob howled his agony as the knife plunged into his lower belly, just above his genitals; the knife carving its way through gristle and flesh and chopping through the soft, ropy, squishy intestines beyond.
"I was a baby!" Matty screamed. He yanked the knife free, and stabbed into the man again.
"You were supposed to love me!" the blond youth howled, and he slashed the knife as if it were a sword from Rob's right shoulder to his left hip.
"I needed a father -- not a daddy!" Matty sobbed, and he dropped the knife, reared his fist back, and sent it slamming into Rob's face. The man's nose broke with a sickening crunch, and blood and snot poured freely from the ruined nose.
"You hurt me!" Matty cried, and punched Rob in the face again. "You fucker, you hurt me! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!!"
Phooka started when Matty dropped the knife and just started to slug the bound man.
The elf hesitated for a moment; obviously Matty needed this, but the chances of him hurting himself were greater if he was attacking simply with fists.
After another moment of indecision, Phooka stepped up behind his smaller lover, hands raised. He wasn’t trying to stop Matthias, but if the blonde youth took a step backwards, the kelpie would be there to catch him and hug him and hold him, whisper sweet words of love to calm the youth’s battered heart.
Matty took that step backwards, in preparation for a truly grotesque kick to Rob's balls.
He shrieked when arms wrapped around him, startling him out of his fervor.
Phooka spun him quickly, pressing Matty’s face into his chest.
“Ssssssssshhhhh, annsachd. It’s all right. It’s all right. There now, you’re all right.” Long black curled rained down around Matty’s face as Phooka pressed gentle kisses to that blonde hair. “Matty, luv, it’s all right. Don’t fash yourself over this waste of space. Whatever he did to you; I love you, annsachd.”
Matty blinked into the solid muscle of Phooka's chest. The tender kisses and the soft, gentle words that made him think of rain on cool, green fields, pulled him back from that well of blood-red hatred and pain.
He locked trembling arms around his lover and snuggled tightly against the kelpie.
"If... if meeting you... being allowed to have you... meant... I mean... if what happened with that -- that -- that jerk was what I had to suffer if I got to have you..." Matty said, his voice quavering. He kissed Phooka's skin gently. "It was worth it. Phooka... you're worth anything. I'd do it again if it meant you'd be there for me. I love you. I love you!"
“Hush now, don’t speak of such things. Hurting children that way is abhorrent, even to fairies. If I knew you had to go through such things to earn my love, I’d never forgive myself.” Phooka sighed, stroking one large hand over Matty’s hair and tilting his head back gently.
The man-eating elf kissed his mortal lover with supreme gentleness.
“Do you wish him dead now? I don’t want to make you suffer anymore.”
Matty kissed Phooka lovingly. He was crying even as he did it.
"I hate him," he muttered. "I want him to suffer, except I know it won't do any good. He'll never be sorry for me. Even if you kill him, Phooka, what'll happen to him, then? How will he be punished? Really punished?"
Phooka blinked.
“I . . . I’m not sure . . . .in the afterlife, you mean? It depends on what he believes. If he’s Christian, he has already earned himself a sleigh ride to hell. If he believes in reincarnation, he’ll return as a worm or a maggot . . . . Or even as an abused child himself. If he believes in nothing, then he becomes nothing.”
The kelpie rubbed Matty’s back comfortingly as he dropped a distracted kiss to that sweet, upturned face.
“I you wish him to suffer through what’s left of this life . . . .I could stake him out in the swamps and leave him for the bugs and the scavengers.”
Matty sniffled. "No. I want him to be sorry for what he did to me -- not for whatever pain he's going through."
Suddenly, he shook his head and hugged his lover tightly. "I'm sick of the whole thing. I'm sick and tired of him. Most of all, out of everything, I never want to see him again; never want him to come near me again. So, I'm leaving it up to you. If you want to torture him, that's fine. He'll be dead at the end of it anyway. It's... it's up to you. I know you'll do right by me, Phooka."
Phooka stared down at the face of the only person he had ever loved.
“I wish I could take days making him die.” The kelpie whispered. “But I don’t think I could bear spending days away from you. I shall return in an instant, annsachd.”
With that, the elf disappeared in a swirl of darkness and the scent of swamp and water.
Matty saw that his stepfather was gone as well, leaving behind only a huge bloodstain on the concrete of the basement floor.
True to the kelpie’s word, barely a minute later he returned and caught up Matty, hugging and kissing tightly.
Matty kissed Phooka. "At least there's plenty of meat for steaks for you. And burritos. And stews. And chili." He kissed his kelpie again. "What did you do with him?"
“I left him to the creatures of the swamp. The raccoons and foxes and weasels can chew on him for what’s left of his time.” Phooka gave his lover a dark grin. “Not the alligators, though; they’d kill him far too quickly.”
Matty grinned back. "That's fine. Now, I'd better tend to that steak. It's about to burn if I don't."
Phooka allowed the mortal youth to attend to the grilling meat. Slowly, he sauntered over to the makeshift table, uncorked the wine and poured a glass. Prowling towards Matty, the elf wrapped his arms around the beautiful youth, holding the wine out to him.
“Do you know how sexy you look behind a big slab of sizzling meat?” He purred, nuzzling Matty’s ear.
Matty giggled. "Are you talking about the meat on the grill, or...?" Lightly, he swayed and bumped his hip against Phooka's groin.
Phooka laughed.
“Let’s just say it’s extremely appealing to find a lover who can satisfy all of my appetites.” One large hand snuck to Matty’s belly and pressed him back against the kelpie’s own stomach. “Us Eaters have big appetites, you know. We’re always hungry. Well,” Phooka began to sway as if he was dancing, dragging Matty along with him. “We’re always something.”
Matty moaned; a tiny, trilling mew of sound. He closed his eyes until he could barely see through his eyelashes, and he let the rest of himself melt into the dance-sway Phooka was generating. If it weren't for the steak on the grill, he'd have given himself over to the sensation completely.
But, Phooka had tortured and killed -- for him! Devotion of that magnitude ought to be rewarded.
He'd feed his mystical lover a fine meal, and then... he'd play the role of dessert.