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“Growing watermelons here has been fun, but I really miss my flowers back at home.”
The world here was black on black, lit by an unpleasant green ambiance. Omori navigated trailing, tangling vines black as pitch, ready to trip him up. Basil trailed behind him, making no sound of difficulty.
“They’re maybe not the best food, but they’re good for staying hydrated, and anything is better than nothing.”
Omori stomped any watermelons in his path. None of them contained the key.
This place was a mess. Inhospitable. Sinful. It needed to be eradicated, the sooner the better. Basil didn’t belong in a place like this.
“Still, I’m excited to get back home. Mari and Hero are much better cooks than I am, heheh.”
They just needed the key. Find it, grab it, get out. Omori scoured the mass for hiding places.
He stopped. Basil, copying his movements, stopped as well, peering at Omori with a curious, trusting smile.
The green haze had disappeared. No color had been added, but the murk had gone. Everything looked as bright as under fluorescents. Even the floor was no longer matted with tortuous vines.
“I planted quite a few. They look so delicious when fully ripe.”
All Omori could see were watermelons.
He slipped his hand in Basil’s, gripping firmly to keep him close. An odd possessiveness had come over him, likely a product of the paranoia this place bred.
“Aha, missed me?” Basil teased. “Well… I can’t judge too hard. I’ve missed you so much.”
Omori looked at Basil.
He was glowing.
He was as vibrant as the fruits, a brightness that almost made him hard to look at. Eyes and hair the same sparkling teal as a watermelon rind. His skin was rosy, glowing. Clothes slightly frayed, begging to be torn.
The key could wait.
“Omori? …What are you staring at?”
Omori barely registered the intensity of his own gaze, nor Basil’s growing restlessness. He could only think how prettier Basil would be if he could just see a bit more.
The overalls had to go first. Hands from the soft skin to the well-worn corduroy, and then a firm tug unhooked the buttons from the straps. Basil only had the time to regain himself when the overalls had reached the hem of his shirt.
“H-hey! Did they have something on them? I don’t wear pants under there!”
Omori pushed the bunched-up fabric further down his thighs anyway, and Basil gave up. He didn’t have shorts, but he did wear boxers. White with a pastel floral pattern, unlike Omori’s black stripes, a soft contrast from the brightness of his now-bare legs.
“O-Omori? I-I don’t like how you’re staring at me…”
“Sit.”
That startled Basil. Omori didn’t speak that often, maybe not once to this current incarnation of Basil. He might never have heard his voice. Basil’s mouth shut, and he sank to the ground.
He had chosen the perfect position: legs open wide enough for Omori to sit between them, knees slightly bent, leaning back to give him more room. Omori was salivating. He wanted nothing more than to indulge himself.
Omori captured Basil’s mouth in a sucking and biting kiss. Basil panicked at the teeth on his lips, but figured out what was happening when Omori slipped in his tongue.
Basil was panting when they severed the kiss. “Omori… You really missed me that much? I… didn’t know you felt that way about me…”
Basil had no idea his drool was red.
Omori leaned in again, this time aiming for his jawline. Basil was confused, but still gave Omori access to what he wanted. Good. Omori’s tongue trailed along the shining skin. Basil’s sweat had a fruity taste.
“You’re licking me? Heheh, kind of like a dog. I’m happy to see you, too!”
Without thinking, Omori withdrew his tongue and bit down just enough to scrape his teeth against the other boy’s neck. Basil tensed, sucked in breath, shuddered under his teeth. More of a reaction than Omori had planned. He wanted so much more.
Omori loomed over Basil, caging him with his arms so he couldn’t escape. Basil’s eyes were wide with worry and he was suppressing a frown. He looked confused, apprehensive.
Not at all resistant.
He kept eye contact with Omori, using that to calm himself, or at least steel his nerves. He might not like what was happening, but he knew it was his friend, and could convince himself everything was going to be okay.
Stupid. Naive. Trusting.
He could never figure out how to hate Omori, could he?
Omori fell on him for an open-mouth kiss. It took some persistent sucking and licking to allow him entrance. Omori could taste the watermelon diet on Basil’s tongue. Soft, warm, juicy. Basil’s knees rose to frame Omori in turn.
Maybe he’s tricked himself into thinking I’m safe, Omori mused as Basil sought more intimacy.
Omori’s free hand had scrambled for the hem of Basil’s shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist. He pulled away without bothering to close his mouth, leaving pink slick smeared across both their mouths.
Basil stared up at him, bright eyes half-lidded and cloudy, mouth slightly agape. Omori continued drinking in Basil’s expression and he yanked the lime-colored shirt over his head. And he was helping, maneuvering his arms through the sleeves, making it easier for Omori to remove.
It annoyed him he didn’t protest more.
“Omori, why did you need my shirt off? That’s weird…”
Even more of Basil’s flesh bared to him now. Omori went to his collarbone, breathing in the sweet scent of him, drinking in the taste. He chased the taste, along his chest and under his arm.
It was wet and fuzzy, but not like baby fuzz hairs. This had the texture of… sand, if Omori had to hazard a description. Such an interesting texture to go along with the sweetness. Omori stuffed his face in, forcing Basil’s arm up to allow more room.
“Omori, why there?”
This Basil was a virgin, once more chaste and untouched. He didn’t have the memories of his previous dirtied incarnations. Still, he seemed to have an impression that this wasn’t Omori’s usual path. That this was something new, even stranger than sex itself.
But it was so sweet. It tasted so good.
He didn’t stop licking Basil’s armpit, taking in the scent, as Basil held himself still beneath him. He let Omori’s other hand wander across his chest, down to his hips, but squirmed when he reached the hem of his underwear. It was a small movement, an attempt to dislodge Omori without moving his arms from above his head.
Foolish boy.
Omori took one last sniff before looming over Basil once more, gaze now resting on that unnaturally teal hair. It was the color of candy. He wondered what it would taste like.
Omori teased the elastic around Basil’s waist and was rewarded with a whine.
“Ah-ah! I’m ticklish there, Omori!”
Adorable. Omori curled his fingers and scraped his nails across Basil’s sensitive skin.
“Stoooooop~!” Basil grabbed Omori’s wrist in a movement as instinctive as a flinch.
Omori relented and instead nuzzled the sheen of sweat across the boy’s forehead beneath the flower crown. The hair it sat on looked like taffy. Omori leaned over and bit.
“Ah- You’re getting it sticky! I’m gonna need a bath when we get home…”
Omori chewed on the hair. It had a texture almost like putty. If he let it settle on his tongue, the strands dissolved into something like a liquid, but when he applied force, it formed back into hairs. He sucked on it, not bothering to muffle the squeaking that resulted.
Basil was still seated, knees bent, well within reach. This time Omori started low, around the ball of Basil’s ankle, up to his knee, then down to the seam of his underpants. Basil instinctively jerked from the touch, then steadied himself and forcibly relaxed.
“…I trust you.”
It would be wrong to take advantage of Basil’s trust like this. The wrongness should have given Omori pause, but he had Basil here right now, more candy than flesh, something to consume. Everything was temporary in this dream. It didn’t matter how Basil felt. He was the only real thing here.
Omori stripped the underwear from him, down knees and ankles in the air over his head, and was rewarded with the sight of a furiously blushing Basil cringing under his gaze.
“O-Omori?”
Basil didn’t like having the momentary flash of a camera on him, let alone the intense, hungry gaze Omori wore. He had his legs folded, arms hugging his chest, trying to regain some cover from his best friend’s scrutiny.
He would feel scared and revealed, but coaxing himself to continue to trust Omori. It didn’t matter. Omori would take what he wanted, and Basil would let him as they had done before.
When Omori touched him, Basil, predictably, flinched. He put his hand over Omori’s, but didn’t pull away.
“O-Omori! You can’t-”
Basil’s protest ended in a squeak as Omori bit the flesh displayed before him. He took the opportunity to pry apart Basil’s legs, getting a good eyeful of his most intimate parts. He wanted them. His mouth watered. He wanted to consume them, indulge himself in that sweetness. His breathing grew heavier, his patience evaporated.
“Ah- Wh- What are you doing there-?”
Basil only had moments to say such before Omori’s tongue wrapped around his length, making slow strokes from the base to the head. Basil panted, kicked out at the unfamiliar sensation. One foot ended up on Omori’s back, next to his shoulder blade. Instead of pushing him away, he pressed down, anchoring Omori in place.
Omori was too choked with his own lust to hate Basil for enjoying this. Being a stupid slut was dovetailing with what Omori wanted anyway. If Basil wanted to degrade himself… The excitement thrilled through him, and he needed to chase it from his body. He humped against the ground. He took Basil’s length inside his mouth and sucked harshly, pulling an embarrassing involuntary noise from Basil.
“Omoriiii-” he sang just for him. “I feel really good…” He arched into Omori’s face. Omori took the invitation and sucked further, feeling the syrupy tingle in the back of his throat. He preferred the sweetness on the wide of his tongue, but this wasn’t so bad.
Basil squealed through closed lips. Omori gave another harsh suck, netting more of the sweet fluid he wanted and ripping a real moan from his friend. It was probably the first this incarnation had ever made, and it was all for Omori. Omori loved it, loved that he was the one exciting all these new sounds from Basil, that he got to deflower him. He sucked harsher.
“Auhhnhh!” Basil cried out. His limbs strained and he flailed, trying to get Omori closer. One arm over his face, one hand clawing the dirt, legs hooked together around Omori’s back. His panting resounded. Omori imagined the pink drool sticking to his face.
Omori pulled back leisurely, leaving a trail of viscous, pink-tinted drool along Basil’s shaft to lap at the tip.
He wanted more of that sparkling juice, the crown delicacy of all decadent flavors before him. He rubbed his tongue along the bottom, gently creasing the skin.
“Hmm-mm…” Basil shifted his hips to help Omori cover more area. Fine by him.
More juice leaked onto his palate, making his brain fog up. He widened his jaw to fit more of Basil in his mouth, encouraging the more sweetness. Omori lapped up the fluid that coated the inside his own mouth and inevitably around the appendage. He panted, breathy and soft, around Basil’s shaft. He never made much noise.
Basil rubbed his heel along Omori’s back affectionately. “Y…you’re adorable, Omori…”
Basil would have known Omori never responded well to compliments, but the adoration snuck through anyway. As though he couldn’t help himself. Stupid. Omori was just here for his treat. He didn’t care about the opinion of such a delusional, ignorant, hypnotized boy.
Omori wrapped his tongue around the boy and gave another harsh suck. Basil twitched and gasped. He arched, but Omori shoved him down to restrict him. His flesh caved around his fingers, as though Omori could mold or break him if he pressed too hard. Like he could rip off a piece of him with his fingernails.
Omori dragged his tongue up, getting a good taste, before going down again. He was finding he liked the process. It smeared the sweet syrup against his tongue and cheeks enough he could keep tasting new notes of the flavor in his saliva as he greedily wrested more.
Basil’s increased breathing was ignorable, at least. His soft, airy moans broke through. He wasn’t even trying to stifle the noises, just let his body express what felt natural. Unafraid. Trusting. Relaxed. Happy.
Omori wanted to tell himself it was disgusting, and that he despised the way he could make Basil so joyful, but even he knew that was a lie. He loved knowing all the buttons to push, how to make him sing for him. He memorized his sweet spots for a reason.
That made them both horrible, didn’t it?
Predator and prey.
“I- Ih - I looooove yooou…” The end of the sentence turned into a throaty squeal. He was so happy, matching the rhythm of Omori’s movements perfectly. Rocking with the motion that tugged Omori’s skin and tank top taut across his back. Comforting and warm.
This time is was Basil’s turn to lock Omori in place, thighs pinning his head where it was around his dick. His joy reverberated through his body, and he clawed at Omori’s short hair for a secure grip. Basil, in his bliss, yanked, and Omori gave a startled squeak. Not in pain - his hair wasn’t long enough to wrest a painful tug from, nor was Basil big enough to potentially hurt him. Not that he could be hurt.
Basil’s panting was jittery with excitement. “You feel good! You feel so… goooood… huh… ahh-!”
Omori felt so warm. His senses were overfilling. His mouth, his nose, his head pressed between Basil’s warm thighs, the sounds. It was heavenly. He couldn’t think. This was everything.
That’s when it happened. Basil screamed, squealing, kicking his legs, channeling that excitement into squeezing Omori still. He sounded like a girl.
Omori’s mouth flooded with taste: explosive, sparkling, sweet, sugary, overwhelming. His jaw slackened, he licked, he instinctively swallowed, coating his mouth in sweetness and it tasted so good he couldn’t get enough.
He swallowed again, wrenching Basil’s pitched once more.
“Sunny…”
Omori wasn’t caring. The only real thing in the world to him was the taste, gushing, filling, sweet, completing. He swallowed, he licked, he wrung Basil of everything he had but it wasn’t enough.
And too soon the tip was cleaned, leaving Omori with only the ghost of the flavor. He felt like crying. Maybe he was whining aloud. He just needed more, more, more, more. Anything, anything! He dove back in.
“Omori- stop- that- stop it! Stop it!”
There was that sweetness again, filling his mouth. It was exactly what he was looking for, the only thing he was alive for. He needed more. He licked and licked, scraping with his tongue and teeth, getting exactly what he needed.
“What are you doing-? Stop - it’s - what-”
He had teased himself enough. He bit down, breaking the firm, spongy slight crunch between his teeth, releasing more liquid euphoria into his mouth. The fruity flesh stained his teeth and coated his mouth once more in delight.
“Help - help! Something’s wrong!”
So much more rich red seeping from where Omori had broken the shell. He pulled himself closer, shoving the hips towards him, tonguing the cracks that spread through the unblemished flesh. Richer, firmer. Something he could rend.
“Omori, something’s wrong with my legs - please, please help!”
A hand tried to push him away, but he captured it in his mouth, sucking on the fingers until they gave way. The sweetness would not be kept from him. He indulged himself in the seams.
He gorged himself, stuffed himself, chasing each new burst of flesh. He held the sobbing boy steady, but his hands gripped too hard. The broke through, more pink sticking to his fingers, face, mouth, neck, head. He slurped the juice from the rind, scraped the shuddering skin with his teeth until it stopped moving. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush in his ears. Over everything filling his senses, filling his mouth and throat, coating him, never fully sating his lust.
At some point, Basil stopped making sounds.
More and more he devoured, filled with nothing but lust and greed. Every piece before him was delicious. He wanted it all inside him, only his before anything else could taint it.
He was drunk on a haze of pink and green.
When the colors faded, the lust ebbed, and Omori was left crouched over the evidence of what he’d done. Basil’s face was gone. The few pieces of his body that remained resembled broken watermelon rind. The red that stained Omori’s skin and clung to his tank top channeled the cold into him.
Basil’s face was gone. The flower crown lay crushed among the pieces.
The sweetness that still lingered on Omori’s palate become cloying, rancid. He retched. What had he-? Why had he-?
There wasn’t enough to put back together. It was inside him. Gorge rose in Omori’s throat, but he couldn’t get himself to void anything. Not even his saliva dripped out.
He was left with a chill that cut through to his bones, with the broken pieces of his friend laying before him. Something chewed and used up when he’d no longer had use for him.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t known. He had known. He hadn’t cared.
Was this all he was to him? Just so much meat?
He wanted to rip himself apart.
The knife wouldn’t free him in this place, though.
Eventually, he stood back up.
There was another key nearby.
Waves gently crashed along the shore. Salt could be smelled in the air.
Omori's feet crunched against the soft sand. He stood in place, behind the shadow.
“If things went differently… Would you still want me?”
The shadow didn’t face him.
“There's a good person in you. Someone I loved.”
“...If you came back, maybe there's still hope for us.”
The figure faded.
Omori waited, then walked somewhere else. He didn't care.
He needed that thing gone.