DISCLAIMER: we're back to somno smut wheee

When the alternate returns to Mark's home a few nights later, it is greeted by a locked window, with empty metal cans scattered around the floor of Mark's room. They are positioned around the window and door, so that if a person tried to break in they would likely knock over the cans and make enough noise to wake up Mark. It's obvious the poor man couldn't come up with a better defense system, short on money and time as he is. The alternate has no difficulty with either of these deterents; it phases through layers of reality until it stands on the other side of his window, and then begin crawling through his room on the ceiling, avoiding the cans altogether.

It looks down at the room from its perch on the ceiling, and sees Mark is propped up on his bed, head lolled back and dozing fitfully, illuminated by a flashlight sitting on his bedside table. Ever since he had woken up to discover the alternate's little surprise, he hasn't slept at all, forcing himself to stay awake at night, handgun loaded, eyes alert and shifty, alarm clock chiming every hour to startle him back into wakefulness. It knows because it had watched him slowly lose his resolve, eyelids drooping more and more, until finally succumbing to slumber on the third night. It was so endearing, how much grief he put himself through, only to fail in the end. It drops down from the ceiling, landing on Mark's bed weightlessly and standing over his sleeping body. It reaches down, delicately takes the gun out of his slack left hand, and unloads the clip; stuffing the bullets into its pockets. Who knows how he would react to the knowledge that his body had been desecrated once again? It would rather ensure he had nothing to harm himself with.

It saunters to his bedside table, disarming the alarm he had set on his alarm clock and turning it off entirely. It sets it face down, just to let him know his little plan didn't work. Nothing would. As it does so, it notices the thing lighting up the room isn't a flashlight, and it beams once it recognizes what it is.

"Oh," it squeals, "how lovely, Mark, you've gotten me a little gift."

Sitting next to the alarm clock is a video camera with its flash on, the blinking red light indicating it was already recording. He must have had the idea to gather evidence to present to the police. It was too bad no one would help him after seeing what the perpetrator is. It picks up the camera, making sure to make direct eye contact with the lens. It lets its face split into a grin that no human could ever make, pure glee tearing the flesh of its cheeks as the skin is stretched to reveal far too many teeth gleaming from its maw. It wants him to know exactly what he's dealing with, wants him to know there is no escape, wants him to drown in hopelessness. Maybe then he'll realize that it's better for him to just let himself belong to it.

I'll take good care of you, Mark, something in its chest wails, you won't ever feel despair again when you're mine. It shoves the feeling down. It doesn't want to know what that feeling is.

It spins the camera around to face Mark's sleeping body, focusing on his relaxed face. It decides it won't speak loud enough for the camera's microphone to record it, it wants Mark to spiral obssessively about what its motives are, and it would prefer to show rather than tell tonight. It creeps closer, then tilts the camera so that both of their faces are in view, and opens its mouth, making sure its long, inhuman tongue is on full display. It traces his soft, chapped lips with a finger, then leans in to kiss him.

It lets the microphone pick up on every squelch of its tongue sliding into his mouth, exaggerating the action so that Mark can see how deeply it goes into his throat, how it wriggles inside of him and makes a bulge in his neck. It even manages to wring out a couple low moans out of him, and it sincerely hopes the camera is able to pick up the faint sounds. It finally pulls its mouth off of him, letting a string of spit hang between them as it admires its work. It lifts up his eyelid, shining the light right into his dilated pupil to ensure he's knocked out, then sits back on its haunches.

Now, what to do... it really wants to put on a show for him tonight, especially now that it knows Mark will be its audience. It needs him to know how much fun they have on the nights it visits him; let him hear just how noisy he gets, how much he loves the way the alternate ravishes him. Its member pokes out of its sheath, making a small tent in its pants as it considers its options. It definitely wanted to be inside him, wanted to make him scream in pleasure. It could also suck him off, and maybe ride him... coming on his face would be fun to get on video, too. It shrugs, it could do all of those tonight, maybe more, why not? This was a special occasion, might as well go all out. It loses focus on looking human as it fantasizes about what it would do to him; tentacles and spines emerge from its back, and it doesn't bother restraining itself or fixing its appearance.

It puts together a rough order of events in its head, then gets to work, setting the camera on the desk so it faces Mark. It pulls off Mark's sweatpants, slowly sliding them past his hips and off his legs, throwing them across the room carelessly. It hikes his shirt up until his entire chest is revealed with one hand, and starts slowing rubbing his clothed dick with another. Mark stirs slightly, face twitching from the touch. The alternate kisses his chest reverently, grazing his collarbone with its teeth, then latches its lips onto his left nipple, suckling on it. Mark grunts, then moans quietly as it swipes its tongue over the bud in time with the hand pressing down on his crotch.

His breaths become shallower as it feels his dick harden under its hand, and it stops for a minute to pick up the camera with one of its longer tentacles. It films itself sucking his other nipple, making eye contact with the lens as it drags its tongue across it. Mark whines when it gently bites down on the sensitive flesh, and it can't help but smirk.

It pulls away from his chest and lowers its head to his crotch, nuzzling its face into his steadily stiffening cock. It breathes in his scent deeply, feeling the size and shape of his bulge against its cheeks and mouth. It can feel a wet spot forming on his boxers from him leaking precum, and it licks at the spot teasingly before pulling the waistband down. Mark sighs as his dick is released from the stiffling constraints of his clothes, mumbling in his sleep. He's only half hard, but his face is already flushed with a pretty pink blush that makes the alternate feel giddy. It gets a close-up shot of it running a finger down his shaft, rubbing the sensitive skin at the head, and collecting some of his precum with the tip of its finger.

It licks his precum off its finger, then lets its tongue spill out from its mouth and hang down. It twists and twirls the muscle, lengthening it to something much longer than anything that could pass as 'human', and evelopes the head of Mark's cock into its slick heat. It slides down his shaft, encircling and constricting around him in way that makes Mark's breath shudder in his sleep.

"Mmmh, mghf..."

So cute, the alternate thinks to itself, You'll be mine soon, you'll make these pretty noises while you're awake soon. The thought makes an unfamiliar warmth boil in its chest, seeping into its veins and radiating outwards throughout its body. A deep, rumbling purr erupts from its chest, vibrating its throat and tongue as it continues tasting Mark.

"Mmmah! Ah-h... hah," Mark cries out in response, and the alternate startles. Now snapped out of its stupor, it realizes it can't stop the confusing sensation of warmth, nor the deep reverberation of static in its throat. It makes the alternate want to withdraw, unsettled by something it doesn't understand and can't control; but Mark continues keening in pleasure, with more intensity than usual. It stares up at his lax face with wide eyes, feeling him twitch and moan lowly. Did this new, unexpected variable bring him more pleasure? The potential of it having discovered something new, something special about him makes it abandon its repulsion towards a lack of control and embrace spontaneity. It wants more.

It can't help itself; it hikes up his knees over its shoulders and grabs his waist, then carefully lifts him and pins him against the wall, determined to make Mark feel better tonight than ever before. It retracts its teeth into its gums, and grows a couple of extra tongues, letting them spill out of its mouth and wriggle as they taste the cold air. It shoves his cock down its throat, taking him all the way until its lips and tongues are wrapped around his hilt and its chin is pressed against his balls. He groans, whining as its tongues coil and writhe against him in all the right ways, and its throat resonates that mysterious rumbling through his cock.

The alternate stays like that for a while, nose pressed against the bush of hair on his pelvis, drinking in his scent and all of the chemicals that Mark's body produces. The air is thick with the miasma of lust, sex, and need; intoxicating and addicting.

It moves its head slowly, pulling off his dick only to swallow him up again, and again, and again; its tongues curling around his shaft as it does. With its teeth out of the way, it can be as rough as it wants with him, plunging his cock down its throat with no restraint or care. It goes down on him, gradually becoming less careful and slow as it fucks its throat with his cock like he's a toy. Mark mumbles and whines in his slumber, squirming against the wall. He's panting heavily, overwhelmed, but his body needing more than he can handle.

"Ah, ah, mhhn, hah-" Mark whimpers, arms limp at his sides and head tucked into his shoulder, completely at the alternate's mercy. It brings the camera closer to him, hoping to catch some of his perfect little noises on tape. It wanted him to know how well it treats him, how good it makes him feel, how much he loves what it does to him.

The alternate squeezes his thighs against its head, ramming itself down onto Mark with fervor as it feels his twitching and spasms become more frequent. It can feel his cock throb on its tongue each time it sinks down its throat, and it loses itself. It has no care for whatever purpose it served before this, it just bathes in the scents and sensations and wamrth and him.

"Ce-ah-Ah!"

The alternate feels salty nectar on its tongue, and sheaths Mark's cock with its mouth, until his balls rest on its chin. It can feel Mark twitch as he shoots his load down its throat, moaning incomprehensibly. It greedily swallows everything he gives it, milking him dry like it would die of thirst if it didn't, until he has nothing left to give. Mark slumps against the wall, face flushed and panting as his orgasm fades.

The alternate lets his soft dick slide out of its mouth, and gently places him back on his bed, arranging him until he look comfortable. Its tongues writhe and twist in the air, and it lets its teeth settle back where they belong, or close to where they belong, at least.

It picks up the clock on Mark's nightstand, and it doesn't bother deciphering the "time", but it knows the positions well enough to know that night is still young. They have much more to do tonight, once Mark is ready to be played with again.