The Return of Zim

Part Eight

The Return of Zim

Part Eight

(Zim's POV)

Things have been... Good.

Yeah, good.

Its been three weeks now since the Rainy day, and nothing much has really happened. Well, Devon and I kiss... A lot. And we talk. A lot. And Gir sings. A lot.

And... I kinda want to do more than kissing.

Just the thought of Kissing Devon makes my cheeks grow warm, and anything beyond that make my whole body warm up. But I think I'm finally ready... But I don't know if he is.

And, truthfully?

I have no Idea what I'm doing.

I don't even know how to set the stage for... That. Yeah, lets call it That. Or It. Anyway, I think I know what I want to do. Over the years, Ive realized that Devon's favorite food is Spaghetti. Which he calls P'sgetti. Which is adorable. Wait, I'm rambling. Shit. Ok, calm down... Take a deep breath... So, Ive decided that I'm going to make him Spaghetti, and eat by candlelight... But I have to figure the rest out as we go.

"Zim, Ill be back. I have to go get my mail." Devon calls from the living room, and I make a little "Mhm" sound. When I hear the door shut, I jump up and run out of the room.

"Gir!" I yell, and nearly trip over the coffee table. He jumps up from behind the couch and shouts happily.

"WE GON' MAKE SOME P'SGETTI! WE GON' MAKE DIBBERS HAPPY! WE GON' MAKE Love." I pause and look back at him, startled by his suddenly deep voice, as well as the reference.

"Gir, did you just...?" He smiles and slirps on his drink, which is on the table, before running into the kitchen, screeching in joy. I follow him.

~*~*~

"Zim, I'm ho--" The door shuts quietly behind Devon, and I chuckle, seeing his stunned expression at the darkness in the living room.

"I'm in here, Devon." I say, as sultry as I could be. He steps into the kitchen, sniffing the candle lit air.

"Is that... P'sgetti and garlic b-" He stops suddenly when he sees me, dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, one of his long sleeve shirts, and my boots, smiling and rubbing my thumb and my forefinger

together nervously. I tried to purse my lips sensually, but all I accomplish is making him laugh.

"What?" This time, my pout doesn't have to be faked. He stops laughing, but not smiling, and bends down to grab my collar.

"Nothing. You just look sexy as hell." My cheeks flush, and I swallow at the hungry look in his eyes. As he leans forward for a kiss, I mutter out, "Don't... Don't you want to... to eat first?" He smiles, a breath away and gives me a quick peck.

"Sure."

After Dinner, we wasted no time in attacking eachother. I was done before him, and he rushed to finish. Then, as soon as the dishes were in the sink, I almost was. He grabbed my collar, kissing me passionately and pressing me against the sink counter. My one hand traced the curve of his hip over his shirt, and the other got tangled in his hair. His hands were much the same; one around my waist, the other running the length of my antennae. He seems to find the noises I make funny when he plays with my sensitive antennae, so Ive figured out that the more I hold out, the more he'll play; Thus increasing pleasure for the both of us as I let go.

I push forward suddenly, wanting to be dominant tonight. Soon, I slam him against the wall, pressing myself against him as we kiss. His tongue dances with mine, and he pulls back, still only a breath away. And that small space is filled with electricity, and heaving chests.

"You... are amazing... Why... Why did I ever hold back?" He whispers, his glasses starting to fog with our breath. I blush more, and am surprised as a fluttering in my squeedly-spooch makes me squirm. I look into his eyes, seeing the pastels blue I'm so used to, as well as an underlying of dark, electric cobalt blue. I kiss him again, and this time, the kiss is more than just raw passion and animalistic urges. The kiss is soft and wonderful, comepletly raw in a different sense. Because in that moment, its like we are sharing thoughts, hearts, bodies...

Souls.

As his whole life flashes before my eyes, every tiny detail in stunning quality, I hear him gasp as mine does for him. I grip his hip tightly, almost digging my claws in as I see his time in the asylum playing before my eyes. I want to kill the man, and I start growling into Devon's mouth, which makes both of our lips reverberate. Without even thinking about it, my body tended for a fight, my hands curled into fists at his side. I see him, broken and battered as a young boy, curled.on the floor, and he suddenly screams- in real life- and pushes me away.

I stumble and trip, landing on my ass with a thud. Wondering what happened, I realize that we were 'Soul-Sharing' something very rare and only ever heard of in two very very close Irken. So rare, that barely anything is known about it, except that its more intimate than... It, and that it shows the other beings life.

Suddenly, I know why he pushed me away.

"Devon, wait, you have to understand! I didn't mean to burn down Irk,  I swear! I just--" His eyes are frosty again, but its not with hatred, or fear, its with pain.

"You... You what?" Suddenly realizing that he may not have gotten there yet, I blink and blush.

"Well.. wait,if you don't... Why did you push me away?" A scarier thought occurred to me; What if he has finally remembered what I am? And rejected me?

Its then that I notice he's holding his side.

"My side started burning... Like, really bad."