Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Cassie
Standing at attention where a human cock should be is a gourd. I can hardly believe my eyes. Despite Atticus’ other strange attributes, a vegetable cock was the last thing I expected.
The shaft is slightly curved, and there's a baseball-sized knot at the base; it looks like a fall decoration a craft store would carry at this time of year. It’s thick and long, bigger than any other cock I've seen, but it's phallic enough to make work.
Atticus looks at me expectantly, waiting on my reaction.
“If you’ve changed your mind, I understand,” he says. “I told you it wasn't what you were expecting—”
“No,” I cut him off. “It’s… fine. This is fine.”
I might be only trying to convince myself, but I don't want him to feel bad about his… anatomy. It's not his fault, and I still want him. My pussy throbs, my body screaming to have him close again.
Penis, corn, gourd, it doesn’t matter what he has below the belt.
All that matters is that he gets it inside of me, asap.
Tentatively, I wrap my fingers around the shaft of his gourd—cock—and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.
As my fingers slowly slide over the smooth rind and wrap around the swollen base, his hiss deepens into a delicious moan.
The heat in me becomes an inferno as I stroke back up toward the tip.
Clear liquid beads at the divot in the top, coating my fingers on the next stroke, and I can’t help but wonder how it’ll feel inside me.
“Fuck, Cassie,” he groans as I pick up the pace. I squeeze his shaft, and my pussy throbs when it twitches in my hand.
It may not be conventional, but the gourd reacts exactly like a cock would.
I can do this.
I can definitely do this.
I’ve just found a decent tempo when Atticus grabs my wrist to top me, his chest heaving.
“I’m not going to last if you keep going,” he warns before rolling on top of me. With practiced ease, he settles between my thighs like we’ve done this before.
“That would be a shame.” I giggle. But I doubt I’d last long either if I hadn’t been touched in a century.
He’s handling it much better than I would be.
His cold torso kisses my heated skin, making my nipples ache again, and he dips to nip and suck his way across my chest. Instinctively, my hands go to his neck, and I tease the hay-like hair at the nape of his neck.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He meets my eyes as he lines up the tip of his gourd-cock with my channel.
Stop?
Ha.
Not a chance.
He flexes his hips forward and the tip sinks inside, stretching me until I groan against the pain. It’s bigger than I thought, but not unbearable. With another shift, he’s deeper inside, and the hooked curve is hitting something magical.
“Shit,” I moan, gripping his hips to pull him deeper. Whatever he’s hitting is bound to send me over the edge in a few short minutes if he keeps this up, but I don’t want him to stop. I want him to fill me completely, until the bulge at the base of his cock is buried in me.
He catches my mouth with his as he pistons his hips, going slowly to give me time to adjust, and I moan against his lips. Every inch of me is on fire, my nerve ending burning with pleasure. Another punch of his hips has my walls fluttering around him, and I drag him closer yet.
“You are so tight,” he mutters, pulling out slowly and burying himself inside me again, working me until I’m completely adjusted to his size and shape aside from the knot at the base.
He pounds harder, driving into me until it aches, but it isn’t enough.
I want more.
I want it all.
“Harder,” I beg, rocking my hips up to meet his thrusts.
“Yes, darling.” He slows slightly and buries himself deeper, his large base stretching me further than before.
I gasp, biting Atticus’ shoulder to stifle a whimper as the bulbous base slowly stretches me wide.
Inch after deliciously agonizing inch, he works himself inside until he’s buried completely.
When he’s completely seated, he pauses, letting me adjust. I’m panting, moaning, and whining like a feral animal, but I don’t care.
The pleasure and the pain are too much, shattering my thoughts and overriding my senses. I’ve never been so completely stretched and full.
“Fuck,” I moan as he nips at my neck, my earlobe.
“Hold on tight,” he whispers in my ear.
I barely register the words before he’s rolling us; suddenly, we’ve swapped spots and I’m on top of him with his cock still buried inside me. This new position has him hitting an angle that threatens to take my breath away.
“Atticus,” I moan, and he smirks at the sound.
“I want you to take what you need from me, Cassie.” His hands slide up my thighs, gripping my hips before moving higher. He palms my breasts, squeezing them just enough to make me gasp, and I grind my hips against him.
Ripples of pleasure explode at the tiny motion. I can feel a climax building, my muscles tightening. It won’t take long for me to come like this.
“Use me how you want,” he demands, his hands moving back to my thighs. He lifts his hips to urge me on, his fingers firmly gripping my skin. “Show me what you need.”
Fuck.
My body responds to his words before I can process them, and I plant my hands on his chest. I grind my hips and ride him, my eyes fluttering closed as pleasure ripples through my core. He lifts his hips in time with mine, burying his cock deeper in me until a steady stream of moans spills from me.
I’m close.
So close.
He must realize it, because his hand shifts and his thumb presses against my swollen clit, making me jump.
“Come for me, darling.” His voice is deep and gravelly. “Fuck yourself until you fall apart; I want to feel you come on my cock.”
My thoughts are a fuzzy mess as I pick up the pace, and seconds later the tension in my body snaps.
I come hard, my pussy squeezing him tight, and an unhinged groan falls from his lips.
He pulls me to his chest, his lips crashing against mine as he slams into me at a brutal pace.
Every thrust has a burst of pleasure exploding through me as he fucks me through my orgasm.
His thrusts become erratic and he punches them up a final time before his cock twitches inside me. He moans my name over and over as he comes, filling me to the brim.
When we’re both completely spent, we still. Our heavy breaths are the only sounds in the clearing, and I settle against his chest with my eyes closed.
“Holy shit,” I manage to whisper as my heartrate attempts to return to normal.
He chuckles beneath me. “You can say that again.”
We remain that way for several minutes, neither of us daring to move as we meditate on what just happened. When the swollen knot of his dick finally softens, he pulls out carefully, and a gush of warmth spills out of me and onto his torso.
He pulls me down next to him, cradling me in the crook of his arm as he watches me with eyes full of intrigue. For a second, it’s like we’re in a different world, one where everything about us makes sense. Where things could work and no one would bat an eye in our direction.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
“I meant what I said, Cassie,” he says, his face only inches from mine. He brushes his fingers along my jaw, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “I belong to you. Entirely.”
A smile works its way across my lips, and I nuzzle into his chest. “And I belong to you, Atticus. Whatever I have to do to make this work, I’ll do it. If I have to keep you a secret forever, so be it, but I don’t want to lose this.”
“Do you mean that?” He presses his lips to the top of my head.
“I do,” I assure him. “Just as you are, gourd and all.”
“Cassie, I—” His voice cuts off abruptly, and I look up to see what’s wrong. His eyes are wide in terror, aimed directly at the sky overhead. His free hand shoots to his throat, and he grasps at it desperately without saying a word.
“Atticus?” I shoot up into a sitting position to get a better look at him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
A strained noise escapes without words, and every muscle in his body goes rigid. His eyes glass over, and my stomach drops.
“Atticus!” I reach for him, but he throws up his hand to stop me where I am. My gaze falls to his fingertips, now bubbling like boiling water.
My chest seizes as I look over the rest of his body, his skin beginning to bubble madly. He squeezes his eyes shut tight against whatever invisible force is terrorizing his body, but if it hurts, he doesn’t scream. Whatever is doing this to him has obviously damaged his vocal cords.
“What can I do? Should I call someone?” I plead, growing frantic. I’ve forgotten that we’re both completely naked in the middle of nowhere, and that absolutely no one would come running to help save a scarecrow. They’d think I was insane. “Atticus, what’s happening?”
It’s stupid to ask because he clearly can’t respond, but sitting there quietly and watching this happen is out of the question.
Is he dying right before my eyes?
His boiling skin bubbles faster, to the point where it looks like it might melt off his body, before his entire body is consumed with bright blue flames.
What starts as a small flicker in his chest quickly erupts into a scorching, crackling roar, and I scramble backward in horror.
My eyes, glued to the horrific scene no matter how hard I try to look away, begin to burn, tears welling in the corners.
My brain can’t process what I’m seeing, much less the rollercoaster of emotions ravaging my body. I want to scream, cry, throw up all at once, as I watch my scarecrow disappear in a wall of crackling azure flames.
Just as I’m beginning to worry that the whole field will burst into flames, it ends.
The fire snuffs out just as quickly as it appeared, leaving a seemingly unscathed Atticus laying in its wake. Only now, he looks different.
Crawling on my hands and knees to his side, I look him up and down, searching for burns, but there aren’t any.
His skin has lost its grayish pallor replaced by a milky white complexion.
His hay-like hair is now a mop of curly blond waves, and the rest of his body hair matches.
The gourd that plowed my fields minutes ago has disappeared, and in its place is a very normal-shaped cock.
He’s beautiful and flawless and completely human.
“Atticus?” My voice is soft and on the verge of breaking.
His eyes are closed, but the steady rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s breathing. Heart still racing in my chest, I shake his arm and wait for a response.
“Atticus, can you hear me?”
For several seconds, nothing happens, and worry begins to set in. I have no idea what’s happening, but he has a pulse and he’s breathing, so he can’t be dead.
“Wake up,” I demand, shaking him harder. I can feel myself inching toward a panic attack as the seconds tick by. I have to make sure he’s okay. That’s all that matters.
Please be okay.
He has to be all right.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he stirs with a grunt. His eyes flutter open, and he blinks several times as his vision adjusts before lolling his head to the side to look at me.
“Cassie,” he groans, and I swear, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. “Did I just catch on fire?”
I laugh at the absurdity of his question and nod. “Yes, you did. You’re lucky you aren’t burnt to a crisp.”
He brings his hand in front of his face, the same way he did after I cut him free, and stares at his pale fingers. He touches his face, checking to make sure all of his features are there. When he’s confident none of them burned off, his warm, brown eyes stretch wide.
“I think,” he says, tentatively touching his fingers to his lips. “I think we broke the curse.”
I look over him again, my heart skipping a painful beat.
Is that what happened? Did we really break the dark magic binding him to the cornfield and making him immortal?
Time stands still, everything ceasing to exist for a moment. I’d accepted our fate, been willing to love him exactly as it was, but it seems fate has other plans.
He sits up slowly, looking himself over in awe. He flexes his fingers and toes, raking his fingers through his hair. He runs his tongue over his teeth, making sure everything is back to normal.
From what I can see, it is.
“Cassie,” he says, his eyes finally trailing over to me. I’m stunned still, watching him as my brain struggles to catch up. “Are you alright?”
I blink a few times, trying to snap out of it. “Well, I thought I was watching you die. A little traumatic, but I’ll survive.”
“I thought I was dying,” he admits, scooting closer and dragging me against his chest. I have to fight back tears as I settle against his warm skin; he’s no longer cold. “Death will have to be faster next time, I guess.”
With a finger, he lifts my chin, and the corners of my eyes begin to sting. A tear rolls down my cheek, and he promptly wipes it away.
“I really am alright, darling,” he assures me. “I promise.”
I want to believe him. I do.
But I also just watched him catch on fire. “You’re not going to burst into flames again?”
His lips press into a line. “I don’t think so, but I’ll let you know if I get the urge.”
A laugh escapes me, relieving some of the tension in my chest, and he presses his lips against mine.
I’m still not sure how exactly we broke the curse, even though the proof is right in front of me. But whatever unknown sex magic we performed clearly did the trick.
We freed Atticus from his century-long torment.
Warmth fills my chest at the thought of Atticus finally leaving the cornfield. Of him finally getting to live life.
Of him getting to be with me.
Rather than getting dressed, Atticus lies down once more and tugs me against his chest. I nestle into his warmth, trying to adjust to the new sensation, and listen to the steady pound of his heart.
“What’s the first thing you plan to do now that you’re free?” I ask to break the silence as I trail my fingers over his chest.
“I’m not sure.” He thinks for a moment. “But I’ll be just fine with whatever you want to do, darling.”