Transfixed and terrified, you don't move a muscle

Like a deer in the headlights, you're frozen. Your eyes have adjusted as much as they can to the darkness, but aside from a vague idea of where your window is and where the walls of the room are, the only thing you can see are those eyes- and right now, they're telling you nothing. You're not sure how long you maintain eye-contact in this way. It could have minutes, or it could have been an hour or more. Maybe you're dreaming, or maybe you've just been awake so long that you can't tell the difference.

You know, on some level, that he's not here to hurt you- but something fundamental and primitive in your psychology is screaming at you to stay still and pray you avoid notice (fat lot of good that will do), and be ready to run if the opportunity presents itself. You're vaguely aware of someone playing the drums somewhere in the distance, but then realise that what you're hearing is your own heart, coursing with adrenaline. You think about how ridiculous it would be if you died of a sudden heart attack right now, but it doesn't make you feel much better.

Finally, he makes the first move, which as it turns out is to slowly shut the door behind him- that doesn't make you feel much better either, actually. You can't make out his outline properly in the pitch-black room, but there's no sign of movement from where you think his body should be, which makes you think he's managing this with his tail. Sure enough, when he does begin his approach to the foot of the bed, you can barely hear the falls of his feet (feet? Claws?) on the carpet at all, but a faint, heavy dragging noise suggests the presence of a long, prehensile tail slithering behind him. His eyes never leave yours- nor yours his- but their path leaves a glowing after-image in your retinas which awes and scares you in equal measure. You're not sure whether, at this early stage, you'd be faring much better if the lights were on or not.

You're half-expecting him to continue this diabolical staring contest indefinitely, but instead, the slits flick downward, and diminish, as he seemingly looks at the bottom end of your bed sheet, then bends down from his full height. At first you're not sure what's happening, but then you feel a light breeze on your shivering feet as that end of the sheet is lifted up, and you begin to get the picture. The eyes disappear from view, leaving you in perfect darkness once more, and instead you feel the mattress beneath you depress and rock as he slides part-way under the covers. You have a suspicion that he doesn't have the same trouble seeing in the darkness that you do, and despite the prey-like cowardice you're helpless to mitigate by this point, the idea that your lower body is now plain and clear for him to see has your fleshy member hardening without any regard for what the rest of your body thinks of the situation.

You flinch and shiver as you feel a pair of hands- clawed and scaly hands, with either too many fingers or not enough, you're not sure- slowly and gently running up your inner thighs. One slides underneath, teasing your taint and the edge of your puckered anus with a sharp but carefully-controlled claw, as it fills a palm with your soft ass-cheek and squeezes it (first gently, and then again, with a firmer and possessive grip). The other hand slides upward, brushing across your sack and past your now-firm phallus to caress your navel, and then hold your side, just above the hip. The treatment has you shuddering in nervous arousal, and breathing irregularly, though you still find yourself futilely attempting to remain as quiet as possible. In a moment, this fails dramatically, as you elicit a shuddering moan of shock and pleasure, punctuated by shallow gasps.

A deep 'hiss' and a breath of lukewarm air across your groin was your only warning before the jarring sensation of a long, flat, forked, damp tongue that flicked out, pressing firmly at your rear entrance, before being slowly dragged up, along your taint, up the centre of your ball-sack, and along your throbbing shaft (the fork apparently sufficiently wide for the tip of this Reptilian's tongue to wrap almost half-way round your shaft with no further tricks), before lapping up the beads of pre-ejaculate that you hadn't even realised you had begun to secrete. Your whole body reels from the sudden intimate sensation, and your left leg quivers, brushing the scaly hide of your visiting bedfellow. Of all things, amidst the overwhelming fear, relief, and arousal, your mind decides to throw up some schoolboy trivia about reptiles flicking out their tongues to smell, or taste, the air around them.

You don't have much time to consider how poorly-matched-to-context that fact is right now, before the situation changes yet again. You hear the rustle of fabric as your Reptilian seems to withdraw, though when the sheet falls across your stomach and those penetrating eyes return to view, you realise he's now knelt upright. Once again, the primal unease bubbles up and you find yourself imprisoned by his gaze. You notice two pairs of semi-translucent lids blink horizontally, even as he narrows his eyes vertically in concentration or annoyance or something (you honestly can't tell), while only dimly conscious that he seems to be repositioning your legs and lifting your lower half up effortlessly as he leans in towards you. Those eyes, barely a foot or more away now, dominate your field of vision, and your mouth hangs open as you stare into them, entranced. This close, staring into them evokes much the same mix of emotions that you remember from stargazing as a child. Once again, the question of his own intelligence relative to yours brinks across your mind, and without ever saying a word, those eyes- which seem to contain multitudes- grant you an answer, in apprehensions of magnitudes.

You don't know for sure, you don't know if you could know, but it feels as though him laying down with you would be alike to you laying down with an animal. No, that's not right: A worm. A fungus. You feel as nothing in his grasp- but he's still here. He chose you, and you belong to him now.

You're yanked out of this bizarre dreamlike moment of mystical reverie by the feeling of something slick snaking its way through your lips and across your tongue... While something else which is slick prods experimentally at your rear entrance. You realise that your legs are being held up, spread apart, and that his tongue is dancing around your mouth, exploring every nook, in some alien approximation of a kiss. You feel powerless, but purposeful, in his total control of you and your body in this moment. You taste the traces of what you must resort to thinking of as his saliva, relishing his presence in your mouth, and moan quietly around it, as the first few inches of his unseen member are eased in, stretching you out and testing your limits. You feel a sequence of tantalising edges with small bumps that exercise the dilation and contraction of your sphincter with each movement; regularly-bumped ridges that hold him in you and tease your inner walls as he delicately advances.

You start panting, muffled, as he slowly stretches you, adjusting you to accommodate his size. In what you think might be a reflex of pleasure, his tongue flicks in your mouth, the stifled hiss sending vibrations through your own tongue. You still stare into his beautiful, inscrutable, incomprehensible eyes (which are looking directly down from above you, testifying to his imposing height), though your own are becoming heavy-lidded, and your body is growing unbearably warm with arousal, and your flesh quivering and weak. You wonder how much more there possibly could be to go, and as if timed to the unseen tick of thought in your head, you feel the smooth, scaled surface of his body against your privates as he finally bottoms out.

Now, entwined together in the darkness, a long moment passes, which you savour, relish the feeling of total and absolute fullness which your Reptilian lover (though you now feel pitiful and presumptuous using that word in association with this higher being) has blessed you with. You try, with difficulty, to squeeze yourself around his length- and it seems to have enough effect that he once again hisses resonantly in your mouth, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in what you think must be an expression of affection; or at least approval and praise, like one might grant a puppy. His clawed digits release your legs, and you automatically entwine them above where you believe his hips must be- finding him slim, supple, lithe, but with the undeniable impression of a subtle, serpentine curve towards his hips and along his tail, where your feet find their placement.

Invisible and silent, his clawed digits grasp your waist on either side, and you once again moan clumsily as he withdraws, inch-by-rippled-inch, slower than he entered, yet fast enough that the stimulation from his stellar appendage exiting you is enough alone for you to arch your back, clench inwardly, squeeze his minimalist but sturdy frame with your legs, and raise both the volume and desperation of your intimate and stifled cry as you climax. Three unseen jets from your dwarfed, throbbing member soil the sheet still crumpled across your chest, but you don't spare a thought for that, gazing deeply into those two emerald orbs, with their two void-like chasms. For what seems like an aeon of pure ecstasy, you could swear you were staring into starry infinity.

Then, on the tail-end of your orgasm, infinity moves. His face suddenly descends towards yours, turned sideways, and you feel his scaled maw enclosing your fleshy cheeks, as the nimble forked tongue that had been playing in the entryway of your mouth darts down your oesophagus, reaching its fullest extent in the pit of your throat, whilst air is seemingly cycled from the gaps in his 'kiss' to assist your breathing. At this precise moment, he rocks forward; finally and truly beginning to fuck you.

You would scream, had he left you with room to do so, but as it happens, all you can do is surrender yourself as this serpentine intelligence ploughs you, with expert rhythm and mounting tempo. Each thrust is an explosion of sensation through your abdomen and prostate too sudden and dense for you to process, and each withdrawal is so much the same. He begins to hiss, voluntary or not, and the sound intermingles with your gargled noises of shock and pleasure, while your head and neck buzz in a wholly unfamiliar way. You're not quite asphyxiating; he's taking the care to breathe enough life into you to keep you safe, though you're getting dizzy, awash in pleasure like you never could have imagined experiencing on this earth. You don't see his eyes any more, but you still see the stars- though you're too stupefied to recognise that this is from the bizarre regularity of your breathing and the sensory overload, and that you are quite literally seeing 'stars' in your eyes.

You don't know for how long this cataclysm of motion, sound and pleasure continues- nor how many more times you're propelled across the threshold of climax. Your ability to count has crumbled for the time being, to say nothing of the capacity to mark time, or piece together even the simplest of coherent thoughts. You barely understand that something is changing when the tongue is withdrawn from your throat, and you are once again held hostage by his indomitable Reptilian stare, while his pelvic **** becomes sharper, more abrupt, each slam more pertinent...

Your sight grows hazy, and in absence of conscious will you are ****, unconsciously, to allow your eyes to flutter shut - it's either that, or having them roll back in your head. The final push comes, lifting you up just a bit more, and pressing your head and shoulders back into the pillows, as what feels like a gallon or more of inhumanly hot, thick, sticky Reptilian seed is pumped deep into your inner being, synchronised to the final, exhausted squirt from your own pecker that accompanies the last of your own countless orgasms tonight. Your whole body jerks and falls slack, your legs releasing their vice-grip, allowing you to collapse. Doing so, you groan unintelligibly as his cock slides out from your tingling passage, some of his juices oozing out to spread into a warm, thick puddle beneath you that begins to soak into the bed and cool.

In the moments before sleep finally washes over you, you muster strength just sufficient enough to arduously lift your eyelids, to regard a blurry serpentine shape slinking out of your messy bed, in the strange light of an eerie glow penetrating through the bedroom curtains.