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Kissing Nyarlathotep hurts.
It's hate and resentment and bitterness and pure inhumanity all at once. Its tongue is poisonous, sliding down Randolph's throat like a cobra. So deep he fears it may just tear him open from the inside.
It doesn't help Nyarlathotep always bites him. Its long stopped bothering to blunt its teeth. So much that Randolph's lips are forever chapped and scarred. Rick once asked if his cats had finally decided to eat his face.
The liquid tar and poison drip from Nyarlathotep's mouth until it sits thick and heavy in his gut. Weighed down. Connected to this thing that is madness and chaos and power that your little human mind would just explode before it could understand Randy.~
Just when Randolph starts to cough and thinks he might just suffocate it pulls back. It grins, smug. This mask was just not-quite-human. Too tall, too stretched out, too thin, too bony. It easily lifted him off the ground and held him in the air to kiss. Something ripples under the face, making the muscles and bones he knows it doesn't have distort.
Randolph tastes blood on his lips, dripping down his nose, dripping from his ears. His vision blurs. He hopes he looks angry and not just dumbstruck.
"Why do you hate me?" The god asks. Its voice is honey made by bees that harvest poison and harps played by hands whose owners died thousands of years ago.
"I could ask you the same." Because isn't it obvious.
Nyarlathotep only shrugs. Or maybe it laughs. Randolph might pass out. Or vomit.
It brushes one of its many clawed hands under his chin and he goes in for another kiss.