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Reigen supposed to himself, months ago, he would have been more ashamed with the leniency he’d been giving Dimple lately. That he would have seemed careless, letting the little creep more or less come and go in and out of his body as he so pleased. He was surely just setting himself up for some kind of fall.
But Dimple knew his limits- any harm to Shigeo’s precious master, and the kid would wipe him out like a stain; and that was something neither of them wanted, surprisingly for the same reasons. Why put him through another ordeal? Mob had gotten genuinely attached, it seemed, and Dimple had as well, even if he was loathe to admit it. So Reigen started letting him in, sort of as a way to pay him for his services, he supposed. It seemed the spirit was mostly looking to entertain himself: have a smoke here, a bowl of ramen there, one or two drinks (too strong for Reigen’s taste, but fine as long as Dimple did most of the tasting), and sometimes he just wanted to fill Reigen’s system with adrenaline, taking long, rigorous runs in the middle of the night and riding out the high. He’d taken to that last one most reluctantly, but it worked well to knock him out on nights he couldn’t fall asleep, so the slight stiffness and dried sweat was something he was fine dealing with in the morning. Usually nothing a hot shower couldn’t sort out.
Deep down, there were other perks too. Privately, he figured as crude and overbearing as Dimple was, he didn’t make half bad company. There were just some things you couldn’t talk to a fourteen year old about, especially not one who was your student, and while Dimple mostly just prodded at him and tried to press his buttons, it wasn’t so unsurprising when he said something more… genuine. The possession itself wasn’t so bad either; once he got used to being more of a passenger in his own body
(Dimple never pushed him down all the way, knocked him out), it usually felt a bit like just nearly dozing off. Pleasantly heavy and campfire warm.
One night, when Reigen was just off the buzz of the round of drinks Dimple had had hours earlier, he asks about it.
“What do you mean?” Dimple asks, slipping out of his body, having deposited him on his bed. No more fun to be had for the rest of the night now that Reigen is sober.
“I thought possession would be… creepier,” Reigen says, emphasizes his words- as he often does- with a gesture of his hand. “But it’s not so bad when you do it.”
“Ah. Well, it helps that you pretty much invite me in. Don’t have to waste any energy pushing you back,” Dimple leers at him, but Reigen knows there’s not much behind it. “I could make it more unpleasant, if that’s what you want.”
Reigen snorts. “No. Just wondering how it all works, I guess.”
“It’s pretty simple,” Dimple drifts closer, taps Reigen’s forehead with a tiny, spectral finger. “You’re basically just a processing center made out of meat. All I have to do is hit the right key.”
“Is that why you can make Mob do so many backflips?”
He laughs. “More or less, I’ve got a lot of experience moving vessels around. Seems a shame to waste it. Shigeo thinks it’s cool- or, he probably would if he’d been around…”
“And the,” Reigen wiggles his finger tips. “The weird… fuzzy feeling?”
“Same thing. Smother the parietal lobe a little, churn out some endorphins…” He shrugs. “I could make you hyper-aware, too, but that would be pretty gross. Plus it gets you to stop talking so much.”
Reigen bites his lip, thinking a little. Scratching at his his stomach lightly, under his shirt, he hopes Dimple can’t sense his caution. “Are there other things you could do?”
Dimple looks at him rather blankly for a moment. “Wow, are you still drunk?”
“No.” He says, slipping back towards his business-like persona. “Just an offer.”
They both watch each other for a moment, testing, seeing who will step up or back down first. Eventually, Dimple’s characteristically smug grin appears between them, and Reigen doesn’t know if he should be excited or disconcerted.
“Alright,” Dimple finally breaks the silence. “I’m coming back in, then.”
Reigen can already feel a difference; there’s the same usual, brief pressure in his head, the way his body starts up for a moment, worried they’re suffocating, before it’s easily smothered down. However, he feels more present than he has any of the other times, and in this state he can feel the way Dimple slips down and back up his body, curling tight; something that should disturb him, but something in the back of his mind soothes it out, tells him it’s fine: Dimple is right where he’s supposed to be. His back and shoulders relax. Dimple positions them carefully, using his pillows to support him.
“Comfy?” Dimple asks, with Reigen’s own mouth. He is less used to that than anything else. All the same, he lets Dimple know that yes, he’s perfectly fine and comfortable. “Good.” He fills up their shared lungs with air, lets it back out with a content sigh. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, then.”
When Dimple doesn’t move to do anything, he’s confused.
No touching?
“Nah. Won’t need to.”
Reigen is about to say something back when all thoughts are absolutely wrecked from his mind, replaced with a rush of dizzying, gratifying heat. His skin prickles from the back of his neck all the way down to his toes; where he tries to curl them, tries to learn or arch into anything, but is still unmovable as Dimple lies easily in bed; though Reigen thinks, distantly, he can hear his breath pick up just a little bit. His heart is picking up speed, and only getting faster as Dimple sends another flush down throughout their whole body, and Reigen would be
writhing
if he could just
move
.
A coherent sentence is a fool's errand, and so is a complete thought, but he scrapes together enough consciousness to spare to try to direct at Dimple, a nonverbal plea to move, move, just a little,
please
.
Dimple laughs, though a bit breathlessly. “We’ve only just begun, Reigen. Still need to find what this body likes…”
Pumping out another wave of oxytocin, Reigen feels a sharp sensation, like a sudden pressure right at the edge of his clit. The rest of his cunt pulses around it, falling in time with the feedback loop of pleasure Dimple is still generating. He does it again, let’s Reigen feel, more vividly than he ever has in his life, as it jolts up his spine and tightens around his shoulders, the base of his neck, tingling in the tips of his fingers, and if Reigen had any control over his tear ducts he swears he would be crying; both with how good it feels, and his body’s desperate need to thrash around.
This time Dimple concedes, just a little; Reigen can move somewhat again, but his limbs feel heavy, weighted down and sluggish. He can’t really move to grind against anything, arch his back off the bed, but he can writhe somewhat as he floats along in acute sensation. Further away, he hears some kind of desperate whining sound, and registers after a moment that Dimple has also given him his vocal chords back. For all the good it will do him, there’s no way he could summon the concentration to make anything more than his occasional keening noises, let alone any words.
And he doesn’t need to concentrate; doesn’t try. Doesn’t even need to think. How could he? Why would he want to? It’s good, just like this, with the world so far away, no voice to nag him at the back of his head, nothing to focus on or worry over. He just lets time fall away and he feels good, warm all over, euphoria light in his heart and heat roiling in his gut as he lets Dimple do all the heavy processing for him. It’s almost like an out of body experience, and for a moment he forgets that Dimple hasn’t always been here in the first place, that there was a time where he didn’t feel this good. Better and better, more and more, and just when Reigen thinks he couldn’t be any more blissed out, the bone-deep, visceral warmth peaks, and he comes harder than he has in his life, silently gasping.
He swears, for a moment, surfacing back to himself slowly, that he can feel Dimple kind of lolling; gently, like waves that barely break the surface. Then Dimple slides out of him, slow and lethargic, and when Reigen’s eyes register him he looks almost sated. As if he had just woken up from a good nap.
Reigen notices a few things next: one, he has absolutely come in his pants, and he thinks he might’ve squirted- something he previously thought only existed in extremely doctored pornos. Two, he’s managed to roll over on his stomach somewhat, and has just noticed that he is humping into the bed- into his own dirty underpants- trying to grind his way pathetically through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Three, he’s kind of sweaty.
“Told you I wouldn’t need to touch you,” Dimple says, looking like effect of Reigen’s orgasm is already starting to wear off on him.
“Mmmn,” If Reigen wasn’t too busy still riding out every last lingering sensation, he might’ve been able to spare some pity for the poor bastard.
More or less over it, the spirit takes some time to admire his work. Reigen, still pleasure-drunk but not as deliriously so, locks eyes with him defiantly. as he presses the side of his head into his pillow. Dimple opens his mouth- probably to taunt him- before Reigen cuts him off.
“Hahh… Hold on,” He manages, finally getting his tongue to cooperate. “Just- let me-” He gives a few more experimental thrusts, grinds a little hard and lingering, and finally lets himself go completely slack. He breathes in a few deep breaths, contemplates for a moment getting up to get a cigarette. Better to save his energy on getting out of the rest of his clothes later.
“So,” Dimple floats down by him. “Round two?”
He gives a weak laugh. “Sure, in another month. Maybe two.”
He gets an enthusiastic grin in response, and can’t help but think, maybe hope that it’s genuine. “It’s a date.”
Making an affirmative noise, Reigen allows himself to doze a bit, buoyed by his afterglow. Before his eyes can close all the way, Dimple’s voice prods him back to wakefulness.
“You know you squirted, right? I felt it.”
Reigen sighs. He knows he will never hear the end of this.