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Two Birds, One Stone

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Reigen has always had a hard time saying no to a friend in need. 

"Please," Dimple begs, his voice taking on that whiny quality Reigen absolutely cannot stand, "Just for a night.  Fighting that last spirit really took a lot out of me.  Look at me!  I'm disappearing."  Indeed, Dimple does look considerably more transparent than usual.  He wavers like a mirage, fading in and out against the strips of sunlight streaming through the office's half-drawn venetian blinds.  "Please," he presses, and Reigen narrows his eyes; Dimple only acts this pitiful when he's hiding something.

"And why me?"

"You're here.  You're free tonight.  And that's your job, right?  Helping people deal with spirit problems?"

Reigen pinches the bridge of his nose, blindly reaching for the cigarettes he keeps in the top drawer of his desk.  "You are a spirit problem.  How is possessing me for a night supposed to fix your, um.  Body issues?"  Mob has club duties this afternoon, so he allows himself to smoke just this one cigarette in the office to take the edge off his tension headache.  He lights it and blows a thick cloud of smoke straight at Dimple, who gags.

"Do you gotta do that?  Nasty, nasty habit.  Well, strictly speaking, I need to…experience some physical sensation."

Reigen doesn't look impressed.  He taps ash off of his cigarette into this morning's dirty coffee mug.  Dimple, undeterred, continues.

"It's been so long since I had a body for more than a night, I can hardly remember what it feels like!  The longer I stick around here, the easier it gets to lose touch with what's keeping me human.  You want me to end up like those other spirits we're always getting called on?  The ones who act like animals?  Would Shigeo be okay with that?"  He looms in closer, meeting Reigen's calculating gaze head-on.  "With me disappearing or going berserk, and you having refused to do the one simple little thing that could've prevented it?"  Dimple is really laying the guilt on thick today. 

Reigen, despite his suspicions, buckles under the pressure.  Dimple knows Reigen has a weak spot a mile wide where Mob's trust is concerned.  He takes one thoughtful drag, breathes the smoke out exasperatedly through his nose.

"Alright.  One night.  But we stay in my apartment, doors locked, and nobody else comes or goes.  Got it?"

Dimple immediately brightens.  "You're the boss." 

Reigen is not so sure.



He regrets allowing Dimple into his body almost immediately.

"God, you're malnourished," nags Dimple's voice, reverberating in his skull.  He's got the handle of whiskey Reigen keeps in the freezer in one hand (and Reigen really hopes he's not going to test this body's alcohol tolerance), while the other tosses packet after packet of instant ramen off his pantry shelves and onto the kitchen floor.  Reigen wishes he hadn't tried to clean for this.  "Is this all you eat?  This body sure as hell isn't light, but I feel like a stiff wind could knock me right over.  No wonder you're so goddamn sweaty all the time."

"Up yours.  What do you eat, ghosts?  I'm doing you a favor, you know.  You could at least be grateful for a few minutes."  Dimple's consciousness is flowing through his body like an electrical current, tingling and strange.

"Like I have a choice.  Listen, asshat.  Nobody knows better than me that you are, unfortunately, my only option.  So thanks a heap, and all that.  Can we move on?"

"Okay," Reigen sighs, "do I have to be conscious for all of this?  Is there not a way to just, y'know, knock me out while you have your good time?  I'm not about to sit here while you verbally abuse me in my own home.  And uh, my own body."  

Dimple raises Reigen's eyebrow, shrugs Reigen's shoulder.  It's disconcerting.  "Suit yourself.  But you're forfeiting the right to complain about how I entertain myself while you're out."

"Yeah, yeah.  Just stay in the apartment and don't talk to anybody and I don't give a shit what you do.  Wake me up if you can't find the remote or something."

"Will do."  Reigen feels a sensation not unlike being lowered into a warm, fizzy bath.  He feels slow, heavy, and then he's out.




When Reigen blinks his eyes open and looks at his bedside clock it is not, as he'd expected, morning.  It's scarcely been three hours from when he last shut them.  Slowly, additional information filters its way into his unconsciousness-addled brain: he is not in his bed but kneeling beside it, riffling around in the clutter underneath.  He's in his sweats and the old tee shirt that he sleeps in.  "Did you need me for something?"

"Yeah," Dimple says, continuing to shuffle his way through boxes of Reigen's old magazines.  "Where do you keep your porno mags?"

"My—" Reigen goes slightly lightheaded as he crimsons at record-breaking speed.  "I don't have—"

"Yeah, right.  I've seen your internet history, Peeping Tom Master, and you're no saint.  I know you've got worse than a few Sports Illustrateds lying around."  Dimple lays Reigen's clammy palms on an unmarked, dusty box and slides it out.  "Here we go, what's this?"

Reigen doesn't remember what's in this particular box until it's already too late.  Both of them stare dumbstruck at its contents until Reigen numbly mutters, "Those, um, those got left here by my ex.  Long time ago."

Dimple, likely overwhelmed by the thrill of finding such a goldmine of blackmail fodder, is silent.  He reaches into the box, shifting aside a crinkling layer of expired condoms, and pulls out one of several dildos.  For once Reigen wishes he would say something.  Instead he gives the sizable dildo in his hand a good whack against the side of the box.  It jiggles.

"Were you not big enough for her?"  On second thought, Reigen wishes he'd never speak again.

"The, ah...breakup was messy.  I still have.  A lot of her stuff."  Perhaps even more embarrassingly, Dimple is now unearthing faintly yellowed photographs of her from underneath the toys.  Most of them are not even racy photographs.  One of them is of Reigen at Disneyland.  He wants to the earth to swallow him whole.

"You fucking sap.  When's the last time you even had a girl over here, 1980?"

Reigen stares down into the box and vividly remembers the last time he'd had a girl over.  A flash of embarrassed heat rushes through him.  "Long time ago," Reigen repeats.  He tries to pretend he is anywhere, anywhere else, other than on his bedroom floor with a spirit who is both dangerous and invasive on a personal level, beginning to sweat under his tee shirt and surrounded by his ex-girlfriend's vibrators.  Only now does one vital piece of information slot into place.  "Dimple, were you going to, uhh," Reigen gestures lewdly with one hand, "In my body?"

Dimple seems more uncomfortable than Reigen had expected at the accusation, so he knows he'd hit the nail on the head.  His defenses go up immediately. "Look, it's been a million years since I got a night to myself with a body of my own.  Sometimes a guy just needs some time alone with his right hand.  Or his left, if that's how he's put together.  Is that so wrong?"

Reigen feels nearly queasy with embarrassment.  He gesticulates wildly with an especially jellylike dildo at nobody in particular.  "It's my right or left hand!  And my body!  Do I get a say in whether or not you see me naked?"

"You don't exactly have anything I haven't seen before," says Dimple, calm now that Reigen's panicking.  This is familiar territory.

"Did you…..did you trick me into letting you possess me just so you could jerk it?!" Reigen is sweating through his sweatpants.

Dimple is still in Reigen's body, but somehow he can feel him shift from side to side uncomfortably.  "Well, I wanted to do some other things too.  Drink some booze.  Take a hot shower.  Being bodiless gets old fast."

"Unbelievable!"  Reigen tries to shove the box back under his bed, but only succeeds in shoving it over sideways in his frenzy.  A handful of colorful vibrating eggs tumble out, and Reigen swears.  "Who does that!  Who—"

Reigen goes to stand up and becomes aware of a small problem.  He sinks back down and shuts his mouth.

"What's the matter, big guy," Dimple ribs him, "worked up over some of those old photos?"

He leans forward and presses the heels of his palms against his eyes.  Prays his semi will go down.

"Oh my god, you are!  Isn't that sweet."  Dimple's amusement rolls through him in waves, but Reigen feels near tears.  The back of his neck is burning up, his fists are clenched in the knees of his sweats, and somehow the humiliation is making it worse.  The heat in his face and the heat behind his navel are fueling each other.  He wishes Dimple would just get uncomfortable and go, but Dimple has never turned down an opportunity to make himself comfortable at Reigen's expense.

They're silent for a moment, and then Dimple says, surprisingly not unkindly, "Look.  We can kill two birds with one stone, here.  A mutually beneficial kinda deal." 

Reigen sucks in a breath, collects himself, ignores the heat between his thighs.  "You want me to…to jack you off?"

"No," Dimple says, "I want me to jack me off.  Us off.  I guess.  Give me control for a little bit.  I won't put you under.  You get some relief and to supervise everything I do in this body, and I get what I came for.  Yeah?"

Reigen thinks Dimple must have made him chug some of that whiskey while he was out, because he can't believe he's about to agree to this.  The blood in his cheeks feels close to boiling.  "I say stop and you're out of here."

"What do you think I am?  Alright, let me take over."  Again, Reigen experiences the peculiar fizzing sensation he now associates with possession.  The odd tingling takes over his legs, and he feels himself stand up and sit himself down on his bed without his own volition.  He realizes he's still clutching one of the vibrators in one hand.

It's hefty, made of silicone wrapped around hard plastic.  Reigen doesn't really remember his ex using this one—maybe too hard, or too smooth?  As Reigen ponders what women look for in a dildo, Dimple experimentally twists the knob at the thick base over a notch, and it buzzes to life in his hand.  "You're kidding!  If these are as old as you say they are, I can't believe they've still got juice."  Reigen swallows dryly. 

"Okay," Dimple says, "I'm here to have fun, you're here to have fun.  Let's try something."  Without further ado, he presses the buzzing head of the dildo up against Reigen's dick through his sweatpants.

Reigen is a simple man.  He has never considered using one of these toys on himself, perfectly satisfied with his hand and some lotion.  At the first touch of the vibrator to his dick, his thighs snap together and he chokes on a high-pitched yelp.  Raw sensation rolls through his body and, for just a heartbeat, he feels like he's turning inside out.  "What the fuck!"

"Hey, now.  Don't be dramatic, I'm just experimenting."  Dimple lays them down and kicks off Reigen's sweats and boxers, then hikes up Reigen's shirt around his chest.  His pulse is still thudding rabbit-quick.

"Whoah, whoah. Is that really necessary?"  Reigen frowns down at his love handles, now on display.

"I've seen worse and I've seen better," Dimple says diplomatically, "so shut up and stop ruining this by talking or I'll take away your mouth privileges."

Reigen tries to shut his mouth, but when Dimple presses the head of the vibrator right where the head of Reigen's dick meets the shaft, he gasps and goes rigid.  Dimple presses harder, entertained, as Reigen folds inward and his knees start to shake.

"How's that?" asks Dimple, full of false innocence as he ticks up the vibrations a bit higher and begins to run the toy up and down Reigen's bared cock.  Each time it passes over the head, Reigen lets out a pitiful little squawk and smears the silicone with a tiny dribble of precum.  He isn't sure he's ever gotten wet this fast in his life.  His free hand, still under his own control, digs blunt nails into the back of his knee, gripping convulsively and skidding in new perspiration.

Before he can draw blood with his short fingernails on his thigh, Dimple's tingling overtakes that hand as well.  He brings it down to his balls, cups the weight of them in his hand.  The hot fingers around his sac tighten, giving it a light squeeze that makes pleasure boil up in Reigen's gut and a hurt noise catch behind his ribs.  Quietly and against his better judgment, Reigen moans.

"Oooohoho, he likes it!" Dimple croons.  He twists the base of the toy, and the speed of the vibration goes from "gentle hum" to "furious hornet".

Suddenly Reigen can hardly think, can do little more than shudder and jolt against the onslaught of sensation, oversensitivity wracking through him in harsh pulses.  Through the blood pounding behind his eardrums, he hears himself whining rough and high in his throat.  His dick jerks over and over against his belly, trapped between the slick friction of his flushed-wet skin and the unrelenting press of the vibrator.  The buzz of it shakes him to his core, forces him to squirm fitfully against the sheets, the muscles of his abdomen clenching against the agonizing pleasure.  He can feel himself dribbling all over his stomach, smearing the slickness around as he writhes.  Dimple stops him when he tries to shove his thighs closed, and Reigen sobs.

"What're you, fourteen?  Keep it together.  We're just getting started."  Dimple seems to get a perverse joy out of feeling Reigen struggle to pull in hiccuping gasps of breath.  He pulls the vibrator back an inch, stretching with it a sticky string of Reigen's precum, which catches the light before it breaks.  Reigen's teeth are gritted together so hard his jaw aches.  His dick feels at once numb and hypersensitive from the vibrations, the tip ruddy and achingly full, throbbing in time with his tripping heartbeat.  His balls feel tight and heavy as stones.

"N-nng.  Gimme a, gimme a second, I gotta, hh—" Reigen forces out between rib-stretching breaths.  "Gonna, if you—"

"With stamina like that, it's no wonder you're such a hit with the ladies.  S'been all of, what, ten minutes?"  Dimple curiously runs one of Reigen's fingers through the slippery mess on his stomach, tests the consistency between finger and thumb.

Reigen closes his eyes and breathes.  There's sweat cooling where it's broken out on his thighs, in the dip between his collarbones.  Just as he opens his mouth to retort, Dimple shoves the vibrator up behind his swollen balls.

The sound Reigen makes is somewhere between a scream and an animal grunt, undignified enough to make Dimple's smugness ripple through his consciousness.  "Ah, is that too much?  Feels a little muffled for me, in here.  Hard to tell."

Reigen's legs kick without his permission.  His mouth hangs open, freeing the choked-off little sounds that keep escaping his throat.  The vibration against his heavy balls feels like pressure on a bruise.  "St—sto—"

"Hm."  Dimple clicks the vibrator off with a flick of Reigen's thumb.  Reigen's vision swims with relief.  He blinks the mist from his eyes.  Despite the abuse—or perhaps because of it—his dick still lays heavy and hot against his skin like a brand.  Shame curls in his gut.

"It's been a while, alright?  Since anybody's, uh.  Been over."

"With the amount of whacking off you probably do, I can barely believe you've still got sensation down there, much less any kind of sensitivity."  Dimple's disdain and Reigen's own self-pity swirl together and spread hot through Reigen's insides.  He's ashamed and he's frustrated and he can't believe he's still so hard.

"Go possess some other poor bastard if you're such a fucking Casanova!  Ah—anh!"  Reigen whines as Dimple presses the bitten-up edge of his host's slick thumb into the slit of his own dick.  A muscle in his thigh flutters.

"Eh, your doughy ass is good enough.  When it comes to finding hosts for this stuff, most guys aren't this easy.  But you just love to help people out, don't you?" The thumb presses in more insistently and Reigen lets out a whimper.  His eyes are threatening to cross.  "Lord, you've got complex on top of complex knocking around in this melon of yours.  I'm starting to think being talked down to like this actually gets you off."

Reigen's dick gives a guilty throb, and he tries to curl in on himself.  Unfortunately, this does nothing to hide his reaction from Dimple.

"Would you look at that!" Dimple crows, delighted in a way that makes Reigen think he may never hear the end of this.  "You really do like it!  You're into it!  God, that's rich.  If it weren't so pathetic, I might even really feel bad for you."  The thumb begins to trace torturously slow circles around his overworked cockhead, slipping in the moisture that's painting the skin there slick and glossy.  He then brings the same thumb up to Reigen's mouth, smearing his own precum over the slackness of his lower lip. 

"Unbelievable," Dimple says, "you dress up like a girl all the damn time for your joke of a job, and you get wet like one, too."

The words feel like a slap, like a physical caress, and before he can process what's happening there's heat and wetness pooling in his navel and a wounded sound caught in his throat.  Reigen shudders hard and, to even his own surprise, squirts untouched over his heaving belly. 

"Whoah there, tiger, what was that?"  Dimple's accusatory tone slices through the haze in Reigen's mind like a hot knife through butter.  "This isn't just some fucked up assisted jack-off for you, this is for me.  And I didn't get to feel that one.  Looks like you're gonna have to buck up and do it all over again."

"Nuh uh, sorry, m'not fourteen anymore.  Facility's closed for the night."  Reigen feels loose and boneless, suddenly too tired even to wipe the mess from the trail of light hair leading to his groin, eyelids drooping further and further as Dimple berates him.  "S'gonna have to wait a sec.  Just a quick nap…"

Dimple's temper flares somewhere behind his closed eyelids.  Then his own rough, hot palm wraps itself around his softening dick, uncomfortable sensation sparking fire up his spine.  He yelps.  "Oh, my god, w-wait a second, let me—"

"Not so fast, jackass.  You and I made a deal."  The hand tugs insistently at his overheated flesh, forcing strangled grunts from Reigen's dry throat.  His brows knit and his free hand flies up to cover his gaping mouth, but his dick stays stubbornly soft.

"I'm telling you," he croaks, "I can't, right after I…"

With one last vicious tug, Dimple lets his dick fall limply back into its own mess.  It gives a painful twitch.  "Then I guess we'll just have to find another way for you to live up to your end of our little bargain."

The box of toys upends itself on the bed, lifted by an unseen force, and Reigen feels Dimple close his shaky fingers around a little plastic tube.  The cap snicks open, and unpleasantly cool, viscous liquid drizzles copiously over his palm.  "What're you, is, is that lube?"

"Humans all think it's so tricky to get each other off.  But you watch the world go by for a couple hundred years, you pick up a thing or two." Dimple uses Reigen's formerly dry hand to slick up the fingers on the other.  "And trust me, you're no special case.  It isn't all that damn complicated." 

Damp fingers trace their way down Reigen's thighs and behind his balls.  That now-familiar tingling feeling overtakes his legs as Dimple bends them at the knees, propping them up and open.  Reigen, belatedly coming to a realization, flushes aggressively red.  His eyes go wide when Dimple trails a finger through the crack of his ass.  "I don't know if that's gonna, ah…work on me."

"It's human biology, numbnuts.  It works on everybody.  What, you think you don't have a prostate?"

Reigen's mouth pinches shut as his wet fingertip swirls around his hole once, twice, then starts to press in.

"Never experimented as a teen?  No adventurous girlfriends?  Boyfriends?  Ha!"  Dimple sniggers at Reigen's squeak when he bottoms out.  For a moment, the meat of Reigen's hand bumping up against his stretched rim makes him clench down.  Then another finger starts to press in alongside the first, hardly waiting for Reigen's twitching body to adjust.  "Guess not."

The stretch, the sensation of fullness, feels strange and new, neither pleasant nor as unpleasant as Reigen had tensely anticipated.  His fingers don't feel so much like his own with Dimple controlling them; he can feel the warmth of his body wrapped around them, undulating pressure and slickness, and at the same time it doesn't feel like his body that he's sinking knuckles-deep into.  For a sickening moment the sense-memory of body heat and wetness around his fingers shoots liquid heat into his dick.  Then Dimple scissors his fingers, curls them into something, and Reigen's legs spasm around a sharp twist of pleasure-pain.  His rough inhalation is cut off halfway as Dimple repeats the motion.  To his chagrin, he can feel his dick beginning to fill out again between his shaking thighs.  "That's it.  Good boy."

Reigen doesn't think his face can get any hotter—he feels like steam's about to come pouring out of his ears.  Dimple's fingers prod and stretch at him until he feels sloppy-wet and wide open, contracting feebly around his own thick digits.  He does his best to block out the filthy noises the lube is making against his skin, but the squelching sounds feel unnaturally loud to his burning ears.  His whole body feels weak and shuddery, liquid.  The fact that his dick is now fat and twitching with every curl of his fingers feels almost like a betrayal.

"Dimple, are you gonna finish this or what?"  The irritated snap he's going for comes out more like a plaintive whine.  It's humiliating, relying on Dimple for this.

"Impatient, are we?  Yeah, yeah.  Just figuring out how to put the icing on the cake, so to speak."  The vibrator they'd used earlier lifts itself into the air, followed by the rest of the contents of the upended box.  They organize themselves neatly in space above Reigen's bleary eyes for consideration, lube and condoms and little pieces of silicone he's never seen before.

"Seems like this body responded pretty well to that first one.  We'll stick with that."  Reigen is unsure whether or not he's being addressed, so he doesn't respond.  He tries to slide his fingers down his flushed body to paw at his dick, to relieve some of the building pressure there, only to have control of the limb wrested from him halfway down.  "Ah, ah.  You had yours.  It's my turn now." 

The offending hand picks itself up to grip the sheets to Reigen's right.  The other, still sticky with lube, buries itself in Reigen's already disheveled hair (to Reigen's disgust and Dimple's palpable satisfaction).  There's a slick nudge at Reigen's ass, which after a short moment of disorientation he realizes is the vibrator.  Slowly, inexorably, it begins to press in.

He's still stretched and slippery as the thick, unforgiving piece of silicone spreads him wide.  It forges forward with little regard to his need to adjust, forcing him to accommodate inch after inch of its girth.  He feels like it's punching all the air out of his lungs, like there couldn't possibly be any more room inside him, but it continues to prod its way into soft, weak places he didn't even know he had.  When the flared head first brushes his prostate, Reigen sucks his lower lip between his teeth to prevent the embarrassing noise he'd been on the edge of making.  There's moisture beginning to pearl at the slit of Reigen's dick again, the drop growing heavier with each tentative adjustment.  His muscles tighten involuntarily, and Dimple still seems infuriatingly amused as he angles the toy just right. 

An inoffensive click signals the vibrator being turned on, and suddenly no part of Reigen can stay still.  It's worse than having the buzzing right up against his tip, so much worse, because now the vibrations are both teasingly removed from his cock and frighteningly intense.  The little knob turns again, the rotor revving another notch or two higher, and Reigen gurgles as his eyes roll back.  Dimple gives the vibrator a shove right where it counts, and Reigen sees only white for a moment before Dimple wraps firm fingers tight around the base of his jerking dick.

"Warn a guy for once," Dimple hisses in Reigen's brain, then finally allows the faint tingling sensation of Dimple's control to spread through Reigen's lower body.  There's a soft sigh in his mind, more like Dimple's sinking into a warm bath than gearing up for an orgasm.  Reigen wonders distantly if physical sensation feels different for the possessee than the possessor.

To Reigen's surprise, Dimple doesn't let go of his dick quite yet.  He rocks his hips and tugs with his wet hand, forcing the toy deeper still, until the vibrations feel like they're strong enough to make Reigen's teeth chatter.  His dick feels like hot lead, and a glance downward has him moaning at the obscene visual—the blunt end of the vibrator barely visible between his spread thighs, the way his slit is gaping and pinching in the head of his dick on the end of every excruciating tug.  Fascinated, he watches his hand move torturously slow over his own cock without any will of his own.  Dimple allows him to press a cautious hand to his belly to see if he can feel the tremors through his skin.  Feeling like a voyeur in his own body, Reigen's face heats blotchily and saliva pools under his tongue.  He's aware of every little sensation now, from his bangs sticking to his sweaty face to the patpatpat of precum drooling onto his abdomen.  He's wound tight enough to snap.

The hand on his quivering stomach slides up to pluck at Reigen's left nipple, and he sucks in a ragged breath.  "Oh-h, you like that too?  You really are like a girl!"  Dimple's voice in Reigen's mind is finally starting to fray at the edges with excitement, losing a little of its former ironclad control.  He tugs at Reigen's nipples with the rough pads of his fingers, while Reigen gasps and quakes and watches his cock sway over the mess on his belly.  "What cute little tits.  You like coming with something in your pussy, Reigen?"

"N-hnn….f-fuck you…"  His words lack venom, his heart thundering in the back of his throat and his hole clamping hard around the intrusion.

"Bet you don't even need me to touch your dick to make you come again."

Reigen's hips buck.  The vibrations kick up a notch, and he keens.

"Go ahead, spill.  Or are you still too tired?"

The sound Reigen makes when the vibrator shoves up into his swollen prostate is wordless and obscene, something he'd be mortified about if he wasn't this close to orgasm.  His toes are curling in the sheets hard enough to cramp.  The hand fisted in his damp hair tightens and tugs, yanks Reigen's head back and to one side, makes tears prick at the corners of his eyes.  All it takes is the slick brush of two fingers over his tightening balls to set him off, arching and whimpering as he spills copiously over his beet-flushed chest and abdomen, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropping open.  Dimple's hand comes down to help coax him through, stroking Reigen into shuddering oversensitivity.  He can feel Dimple's satiation mingling with his own, smug where Reigen is desperate and heaving.

He gives the vibrator a final cruel nudge into Reigen's prostate before turning it off.  Reigen's dick bucks one last time at the overstimulation, spitting a pathetic trickle of clear fluid as he cries out.  His voice, to his own ears, sounds completely shredded.

Dimple slides the vibrator out out of Reigen's body before slipping out himself and suddenly Reigen's drained.  He drags a sticky hand down his face, hot enough to feel feverish.  "Fuck," he pants through bite-swollen lips, "Haven't….haven't come twice in years." 

He blinks open one hazy eye, and sees that Dimple really does look better.  A little more solid.  He says as much.

Dimple's eyes dart around the room, suddenly unable to look directly at the mess they've made.  Reigen's sweatpants are tossed carelessly halfway across the room.  The tube of lube is still open and spreading a greasy stain on the sheets.  Reigen himself looks nearly as ransacked, his hair in disarray and his shirt still rucked up around his collarbones.  "Yeah," he says, suddenly awkward.  "Yeah, I uh.  Thanks."

Reigen hauls himself up on one elbow and taps a cigarette out of a box he's snatched from his nightstand.  "Hey.  You wanna experience one more human sensation?"  He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.  Dimple wavers for a moment, then hovers closer.

"Gotta get back in here."  Reigen taps at his chest with the business end of his lighter.

"Ah, um.  Okay."  Letting Dimple back into his body, Reigen thinks, feels like slowly being filled with fizzy candy.  He waits for Dimple to settle, then purses his lips around the cigarette's filter, flicks the lighter, inhales until the end goes cherry red.  He holds the smoke in his chest for a second, then exhales, laying back dreamily as the nicotine dizziness takes over.

"Your first post-sex cigarette.  Firsts all around.  Good, right?"

Dimple nods Reigen's head consideringly, and takes another drag for them.  "Yeah.  Not half bad."




This time, when Reigen slips into tranquil unconsciousness, Dimple tugs his sheets up over him and lets him rest.