The Witch's Ichor

Lust & Bloodlust [32]

Wind whistles through the sleepy suburban neighborhood. Crickets chirp in an unintentional chorus. The moon overhead fights with the streetlights for dominance in illumination. Two teenagers walk, sharing their warmth.

"I haven't been to your house in years." Zoe remarks.

Zoe and Derek are holding hands. Derek flinches at her comment.

"Yeah... my old man hasn't really fixed the place up, y'know?" Derek deflects.

Having been to Derek's place before, Zoe understands. She doesn't say anything for the rest of their walk. It takes a while to get across the suburbs, but they make it before Zoe's curfew comes into effect.

"Wow, you weren't kidding." Zoe murmurs.

Derek lives with his father out on the edge of town. Here not many people pass by, so they can get away with the state of their yard. Loose lumber is piled up in heaps against the house. Several old cars sit amongst the assorted garbage. They haven't moved in decades.

"Yeah... Let's just head around back." Derek says bitterly.

Zoe follows Derek's lead as he starts to step over discarded pipes. The variety of junk is impressive. Zoe finds herself staring at a strange old sculpture when Derek gently pulls her by the hand. She resumes following him as they make their way through an old gate around the side of the house.

If the front yard was a junkyard, the back is a junk city. There are countless overgrown patches of grass topped with piles of scrap. Rotting carboard boxes filled with destroyed books sit beside the house itself. Derek leads Zoe over to the only clear space: a few stumps fashioned into makeshift seats, and a firepit.

"Is it this bad... inside?" Zoe asks tentatively.

Derek doesn't respond at first. He carefully pours some charcoal into the bottom of the firepit, and sets a few logs beside the firepit.

"It's much worse inside. My room is barely a bed and a dresser, and the old man has put so much of his junk in there I can hardly move." Derek gripes.

Zoe nods in understanding. Derek's father has always been like this, but it's gotten worse over time. Derek previously tried to clean up after his father. He didn't like that, so Derek had to stop.

Derek gets the fire going. He sets a few dry branches atop the flame, and Zoe takes a seat on the cleanest stump she can find. Derek joins her after ensuring the fire will last.

"You know it's not your fault, right?" Zoe asks quietly.

"I do know. I just wish I could help him somehow." Derek replies bitterly.

Their conversation goes quiet for a long while after that. Eventually the cold gets to them, and they wind up cuddling again. Zoe's soft warm rear rests in Derek's lap like before. This time no kisses are exchanged as they stare at the fire.

"You know, I think you're definitely the biggest one." Zoe comments.

Derek furrows his brow as he replies.

"Nah, Jamison is hella tall. He might be as muscular, but he isn't skinny either." Derek argues.

"That's not what I meant." Zoe replies.

Tender silence covers the two of them as Derek processes what Zoe is implying. His face turns a bright tomato red. Zoe smiles to herself, and begins to wiggle her hips slowly. The sensation of Zoe's butt grinding into his lap drives Derek wild.

"You've been corrupted o-or something, Zoe." Derek comments quietly.

Zoe replies by promptly grinding her ass into his covered bulge. The sensation of it causes Derek to grunt. He reaches forward and grabs ahold of Zoe's decently wide hips. Zoe blushes at the sensation, and looks up at Derek. She's giving him undeniable bedroom eyes.