Here I stand
helpless and left for dead
Close your eyes
so many days go by
Easy to find what’s wrong
harder to find what’s right
I believe in you, I can show you
that I can see right through
all your empty lies
I won’t stay long
in this world so wrong
as we dance with the devil tonight
Don’t you dare look at him in the eye
as we dance with the devil tonight
Trembling, crawling across my skin
Feeling your cold dead eyes
stealing the life of mine
I believe in you, I can show you
that I can see right through
all your empty lies
I won’t last long
in this world so wrong
as we dance with the devil tonight
Don’t you dare look at him in the eye
as we dance with the devil tonight
~ Dance With the Devil (Breaking Benjamin)
New York City glittered in the dark outside, framed by the expensive panoramic windows. Inside the spacious apartment, only the television screen lit the room as it displayed the slightly bouncing paused video game image of a squirrel surfing through sharks. The television was also the only expensive thing in sight. The rest, décor and clutter, even the furniture, looked like the decorator had been a sullen teen boy.
The blood of two out of three men pooled on the cheap knock-off Persian rug. The taller one was propped up on the overturned chair he’d been sitting in. His dripping guts hung down on one side. The heavy one bled a lot less, but most of the limbs had been twisted and bent into creative and unnatural shapes and directions. The neck had snapped with a delicious crunch.
They stared with fixed and clouding eyes at the ceiling, untroubled by the sharp stink of piss blooming in a spreading stain over the denim crotch of the man they’d been paid to protect. He sat on the couch and held his free hand up, palm out, as if he hoped to surrender. The stern faces on the t-shirt he wore could be seen as silent witnesses.
I do love an audience.
“Please … you’ve gotta understand, I… Oh, God… I can – I can pay you, I can pay you more! More, I can double what they’re giving you!”
Victor Creed stared down at the mark through his dark shades. The allegedly brilliant game designer who had tried to sell his latest idea to two rival companies was about to die as he’d probably lived – with a game controller in his hand and his stupid baseball cap on backward.
Cracking his knuckles, Victor replied, “Don’t even bother.”
“I, no, I –”
Lunging and slashing, Victor opened up the babbling fool across the belly and the throat. Just for fun, he broke the neck – so that he’d be found staring at the ridiculous bouncing squirrel. The hand clutched the controller as blood began to rain down on it.
He left and went down the hall to the stairwell. No other doors opened, despite the noise he’d made. He could feel eyes on him through a couple of peepholes, but his latest costume of biker wear combined with his savage feral attributes seemed to be an instant cure for curiosity.
At the stairwell door, he lit a cigarette. “Bodyguards. Heh,” he muttered, smiling as he took a deep drag. Entering the stairwell, he paused a few steps down and leaned on the wall to smoke. Laying his head back, he sighed.
Taking in a breath, he caught a bizarre scent coming from the bottom of the short flight of stairs. Without a thought, he followed it down and around a corner to another set of stairs that lead up to the roof access door.
The tacky apartment he had just put back on the market was a penthouse, most of it sitting higher than the roof to take advantage of skylight windows. Most of the roof space was used by building residents to have cookouts, or grow plants.
At the top of the stairs to the roof, the bizarre smell was stronger. He could scent a mix of metals, bricks, glass, plants, water, a female … and cadavers – very strange cadavers. Victor leaned around the railing to stare upward.
“What tha hell?”
Climbing up and opening the roof access door, he stopped in the doorway and stared. Some sort of special ops soldier, the source of the cadaver smell, had taken cover in a squat. He held a gun with silencer out and ready – and he was watching a blonde woman water and prune plants in the moonlight.
Blowing out smoke, Victor grunted. “Huh. Weird.” He turned and went back inside, leaving the door open.
He barely heard or saw it before a knife was thrown and lodged in his throat, pinning him to the wall behind him. His shades and cigarette went flying as his body slumped in shock.
Another soldier, also reeking of dead flesh, had come from the stairs and thrown the blade. He picked up a radio and spoke into the headset worn by the one on the roof. “Aleksander – complication here.”
“Complication?” Aleksander whispered.
“Witness. Well, ex-witness. Hold off on the girl for a moment. This fellow is huge, we’ll have to –” He was interrupted when Victor recovered and threw the knife back. He easily dodged it, though any normal human would have caught it in the eye. “Whup – revise that assessment –”
Victor launched at him, claws out. He paid no attention to the Russian KMP compact submachine gun the man held. “Ya sonovabitch!”
His claws stabbed through the lapel of the military jacket, his hand fisting in it; he struck his forearm across the chest to smash the head into the wall. His other hand pulled back to slash in over the face. Looking down, Victor’s eyes narrowed as he growled. The face was scored with criss-crossing clawmarks, but they were shallow – and did not bleed. The skin had barely been scratched.
Staring up at Victor from where he’d been dropped onto his back on the landing, the man spit out, “Filthy mutant.” Lifting the KMP AEK-919 SMG, the man opened fire into Victor’s upper body and leg.
The attack threw him out onto the roof. The first man turned and shot him with his pistol the moment he hit the floor. Victor leapt up and slashed the weapon into pieces when that man came after him.
“Aaaah!” He screamed when he was stabbed, but he wouldn’t die. As Victor turned to face the one with the AEK-919, the man behind him laughed and shouted, “It is fantastic, Piotr! Not even any pain!”
Victor stopped, claws ready. The two men who smelled dead held pistols on him; Piotr with the scratched face was taller, and might be in charge.
Piotr glared at him. “I know you. I have read of you. Creed, isn’t it?”
Distracted by her scent, Victor saw the woman take cover by the AC/heating unit. She crouched behind it and watching.
Piotr almost sounded regretful. “Wrong place, wrong time, Mr. Creed; this really is a shame.” Victor roared and charged them. “Your bones don’t break…” As Victor reached out to grab his throat, the soldier was fast enough to snag his wrist and brought his elbow up sharply under Victor’s. “What about tendons? Ligaments?” They all snapped as the arm was bent backward. The force used was so strong that it tore the black leather biker jacket sleeve as easily as the rest.
Victor screamed before rage turned it into a roar of hate.
Aleksander stepped in and struck under his chin with the heel of his fist. “Perhaps he prefers simple strength to finesse.”
The metal over Victor’s jaw rang from the hit, his eyes rolling back in his head. Fangs and carnassial teeth cut into the inside of his cheek and sprayed blood as the blow knocked a smaller fang from his mouth. His injured arm hung useless, and punching his metal jaw hadn’t slowed Aleksander down.
Piotr moved in and used an elbow strike to punch him in the side of the neck, dropping him down. “Enough playing; use your knife – see if he can grow new entrails.”
Victor used his legs to shove his body up and backward to gain some space. “It’ll take more’n ya two.”
Grabbing his injured arm by the wrist, he snarled as he shoved the hand and forearm back against the mess of the elbow joint inside his torn jacket sleeve. The second the flesh touched, it began to heal and reconnect.
The woman was still watching, but she was about to lose her cover. Victor jumped over to the huge metal AC/heating unit, got his claws and fingers into it, and tore it up off of the roof with an ear-splitting screech of crushing metal and snapped bolts. The woman ran for the edge of the roof to get out of the way when he threw it at the dead men.
It smashed into them, the metal a crushed heap of sharp edges and wires. Victor was on them the second they were down. Picking them up by their throats, he hissed over Piotr’s scratched face. “Squeeze yer head off, ya li’l turd.” He growled, lifted them bodily over his head, and mashed their skulls together.
For a moment, he thought he’d killed them; their stench was overwhelming. Then movement behind him and a sharp sniff told him there were more. Still holding Aleksander and Piotr by their necks, he turned and saw four fresh ones with guns – more corpse men who wouldn’t die.
The bald one spoke. “Let them go, mutant, and don’t make any sudden movements.”
Victor growled, placing every upright thing on the roof by scent.
Victor turned his head slightly and saw the woman at the edge of the roof, hands up as if to surrender. They had come here for her. His eyes narrowed. Taking a deep breath, he threw the two men at the rest, making some of them startle and fire their weapons. Then he turned.
“Damn! Stop him! He’s going for the girl!”
Rushing at her, he saw her straighten and open her arms wide as if to welcome him. Her head lifted and her smile was pure bliss. Victor twisted his body and snagged her up with one arm under her knees and the other at her shoulders. She put her arms up around his neck and clung to him as he launched off of the roof.
The others rushed to the edge and looked out, but the mutant had already landed and disappeared at a full run.
“Can we make that jump?”
Piotr pulled himself back up to his feet and then helped Aleksander up. “Don’t start crying,” Piotr told them. “The girl’s tagged – just in case.”
His superior turned and nodded to him. “Could be worse, then; we’ve still got a few hours before the seas turn to blood.”
He drove past an old three-story brownstone and parked his tawny 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham around the corner from it in an alley. The huge car barely fit. He palmed his keys, but left his wallet and phone in the glovebox. Keeping a hand on the woman’s upper arm, he steered her back and up the steps to the front doors of the building. A taller building was attached beside it, with most of its windows smashed out.
Looking around at everything, the woman was silent. She didn’t seem to be trying to run, though, so he let her go to unlock the doors.
The brownstone had been abandoned and empty when he’d bought it from the man who hadn’t been able to afford to fix it. Most of the elderly residents had been moved elsewhere before the place could fall down around them. Victor had had the structure repaired and made sound, but had left it looking abandoned. Trash still littered the black and white tiled foyer and cobwebs were everywhere. They covered the tarnished brass mailboxes on one wall, the railing of the staircase, and the open and derelict elevator.
“Up tha stairs, third an’ top floor,” he told the woman as he bolted the doors. “First four doors up there are sealed. We’re stoppin’ at tha fifth at tha end o’ tha hall.”
She turned and started up, without a word or a complaint. Mystified, Victor stalked after her. He unlocked the fifth door when they got there and she gasped in surprise to see that a relatively clean and furnished apartment was hiding behind it.
“That way, sit,” he told her, pointing at the blue couch.
He closed, locked and bolted the door and turned on a tall lamp. The light revealed a collection of empty bottles, books, and papers on a sidetable. A blue rug was spread under the couch and a coffee table. Across from the couch, wooden posts supported a small loft accessed by a thin metal staircase and railing that was little more than a ladder. The door under the loft led to the small kitchenette and bathroom beyond, but it was probably just a rectangle of darkness to her sight.
On the other side of the long room was a collection of cheap furniture, including a dresser with an old television on it and a round table sporting cold pizza in a battered box. He’d eaten more of the delivery guy than the pizza, but he’d left no evidence of that. One smaller window had a white curtain on it, to block the morning sun from blinding him when he crashed on the couch.
Victor stripped off his ruined leather jacket and tossed it on the coffee table with the keys, watching her take it all in.
She glanced behind her and smiled slightly when she noticed the pair of cats on the framed art print poster. Fancy lettering announced that it was from the Theophile-Alexandre Steinlen A la Bodiniere Exposition. It hung on the light blue wall over the couch, and was the only effort at décor he’d made here. A trio of fancy windows let a little moonlight in, as did the skylights over the loft, but the full moon wasn’t high enough yet to brighten the room much.
Victor assessed her as best he could by what he saw and scented. She was exactly the young and pretty type that was generally terrified of him. She had a decent model-quality height of maybe five foot ten. Long curling blonde hair covered her shoulders and half of her back. The eyes were bright deep blue and not a jot of fear could be found in them. Her body made his thoughts wander, but he stopped that shit in a hurry. Something was odd about her.
After everything that had happened, she sat there in a white blouse, pink jogging pants, and white tennis shoes all covered with his blood – and she hadn’t said one word. Even when he jumped them both off of a building, she hadn’t screamed. She had offered herself on that roof, stood there ready to be stolen, and had clung to him all the way down. Not in the Cadillac, or entering this rundown brownstone, had she asked where he was taking her or why.
He picked up a wadded blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it to her when he saw her shivering. She caught it, watching him expectantly. The building was probably freezing, but he had never noticed.
Taking a breath, Victor pulled off his red t-shirt, now full of holes, and used it to rub smeared and drying blood off of his skin. He was amazed his long hair was still in its tight bun at the nape of his neck. The black jeans were full of holes too, and he wanted a shower intensely – to say nothing of needing a round of bullet extractions – but first things first.
“Awright, I’ll make this brief. This bolt-hole we’re in is pretty secure, but gettin’ stabbed, shot, an’ broken wears out my patience. Yer gonna tell me who those bastards were. Yer gonna tell me what those bastards were, an’ yer gonna tell me why they want ya dead.”
Her voice was soft, light, and had a slight Northern trace to it without an accent. She definitely wasn’t a New York City native. She rose with one knee still on the couch and spread her arms open at her sides. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
Victor held the ruined shirt and frowned. “That’s crap, ya dunno.” Dropping the shirt, he lunged in and drove her back into the couch. She dropped her gaze, but a clawed finger pricking under her chin lifted her face to look at him again.
“Ya got sixty seconds t’ remember, before I gut ya like a –”
She grasped his wrist and moved his arm as her scent changed and exploded around him. Rising on her knees, she grabbed his face in both hands and landed a kiss hard on his lips, barely avoiding being cut by his protruding lower fangs.
When she released him and fell back on her haunches, she stretched, displaying the heavy breasts in the bloody blouse as her fingers toyed with her curls. Her eyes closed, the small smile almost drunk as her pheromones assaulted his senses.
Victor reared back, one hand on the arm of the couch behind him, the other raised, claws out, as instinct sought to ward her off. His voice rose until he was shouting at her, “What tha hell are ya doin’?”
Rising to her knees on the couch, she began to unbutton the white blouse. She opened it to reveal a black lacey bra that barely contained magnificent breasts. “Watching you – back there on the roof, I’ve never – never seen anything…”
She dropped the blouse and moved right into his space, pushing him back with her advance, one of her small hands on his abdomen and the other right over his hardening cock trapped in the jeans. She’d put her cleavage directly in his line of sight and his clawed hands drew back as he stared at that softness.
“The gunfire, and the … the fighting… All of it, I love it – all of it!” She closed her eyes again and leaned her face in. The soft voice whispered, “Please…”
Her smile was serene, trusting, and her body and scent were drowning him in lust. The behavior was a shock – no woman did this after seeing the monster he was, not knowing him at all, never having seen him before. Willing women were rare, and most had known him a while, known what he was – either way, they generally had been paid enough not to care.
Victor lifted a hand in wonder to touch the side of her face. She didn’t shy away, but pressed into the touch and gave him a little hungry moan. He didn’t think after that. He grasped her body and pressed her against his as he kissed her, pulling her leg up over his hip. The sweet-scented hidden places rubbed against his cock as it hardened so fast it hurt.
She didn’t let go of him when he lifted her and got them both to their feet. With her hands kneading his back and her lips brushing his shoulder, he swiped claws down the side of her thick cotton jogging pants and the pieces fell, leaving a wide torn gash in them without even a whisper of a scratch on her smooth skin.
“Oh God…” she murmured against his chest.
He bent her backward in his arms, a low growl of hunger thrumming between them. Turning her, he pressed his chest into her back and let the growl rumble at her ear. One hand held her throat, the other, a strip of her torn pants still stuck on his claws, squeezed a lace-covered breast.
“Oooohhh,” she whispered, and melted against him.
Using his body, he shoved her forward onto the couch again. She landed on her knees with her arms crossed on the back of it. His claws shredded what was left of her pants and the black lace panties that clung onto one thigh until mere scraps were hanging at her knees. One hand on her back pushed her down lower as he tore open his buttonfly and hauled his stiff dick out. The jeans hung at his thighs, but his heat was too urgent to bother with that.
Before he could pull her hips to him, she thrust her ass back into him. She was so wet, that in the moment he shoved deep, her sweet slick dripped around his shaft and down the insides of her thighs. She had already come, just from waiting for him to fuck her.
His groan as the tight pussy swallowed every inch of his cock was answered by her cries. He didn’t slow, didn’t care about her pleasure, he just thrust hard and deep, finding no bottom inside her to hinder his length.
Sure that she would soon begin to protest his roughness, he was prepared to hold her still and make her endure it. To his shock, her body only opened to him as she used her arms to move, to shove back on his thrusts. It stole his breath and stilled his predatory thoughts.
“Harder,” she almost hissed, and gasped when he pulled back and slammed into her. “Oh, yes … fuck me…”
Victor snarled and gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises. His claws pricked the perfect skin and she cried out again, but her cries were … heat … not pain, not fear. He held them back, but let them scratch, and was rewarded by another moan. Pumping faster, he chased an orgasm that wouldn’t take long, and when hers hit, rippling the tight grip around his cock, he lost control and blew so intensely that his instinct to roar was choked in his throat.
He yanked out of her and hit his knees on the rug. His fingers parted the cheeks of her ample and round ass to keep his fangs from hurting her as he shoved his long tongue into her pussy.
“What are you … doing, oh, God … God, yes…”
She writhed as he tongue-fucked her. When he knew he needed more, he rose, wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up. He set her on her feet where she slumped in a daze against one of the loft posts.
Glaring at her, he hissed as his pointed ears pinned. “Don’t move.”
He felt her watching as he pulled the coffee table to one side. The jeans hindered him, so he cut them away, leaning over to yank his boots and socks off. Without straightening, he tossed couch cushions over the coffee table and pulled the thin mattress of the sofa bed out. The purple silk sheets were clean, if dusty. He was accustomed to simply sleeping on the couch. He tossed the blanket she’d abandoned over the top.
Returning to the girl, he backed her against the post. Slipping a claw under the center strip between her bra cups, he sliced it. The boning and straining elastic made the cups pop away to hang from the shoulder straps. Retracting claws at the last minute, he pushed two thick fingers inside her pussy and kissed her. Before her wandering tongue could be cut, he broke the kiss, ducked his head and ran a flattened tongue over a stiff rosy nipple.
She shuddered and tensed, probably surprised at the sensation of the little feline barbs on his tongue. Then her hands gripped the back of his neck and tried to move him to the other breast. He chuckled low in his throat and complied.
“Can we…? Um … would you do it again – on that?” One hand left his neck to point at the bed.
“Gonna ‘do it’ lots o’ times, ready or not, like it or not.”
The pointing hand moved to his face and stroked a mutton chop sideburn. “I liked it – and I’m ready for … a lot.”
“Ya sure ‘bout that?” He smirked at her. “I can fuck ya ‘til ya pass out, an’ when ya wake up, I’ll still be fuckin’ ya.”
She lowered her head, and then peeked up at him through her messy golden curls. “I’d like that just fine.”
“Huh. We’ll see. Ya get in my bed, I’ll do anythin’ I fuckin’ please t’ ya an’ if ya start t’ bleat an’ beg me t’ stop, just gonna do it more.” He stepped back and watched her.
She slipped out of the shoulder straps and let the ruined bra fall. “May I take off my shoes?”
Victor sank to his knees and stuck a claw between her ankle and the shoe. With one slit through the works, the lacing, shoe, and sock were cut open. Twisting to cut the other, he let a toothy smile stretch his mouth as she toed out of them, three delicate fingers poised on his shoulder for balance.
He wasn’t prepared for her to move past him and walk off – to the sofa bed. He rose and turned to see her grab some of the pillows that had been tossed aside with the cushions. She threw them to the couch back and crawled up on hands and knees before lying down to wait for him on the striped purple blanket.
The slightest shiver went through her when he got there and slid a hand up her leg; it betrayed a few things to him about her. For all of her forward boldness, he knew she wasn’t very experienced. The faint scents on her breasts and pussy were proof: only two males had touched her sexually. One had been months before, if not longer; the other was a mere echo to his senses.
“Open yer legs,” he told her, and watched as she did it with her pheromones spiking again. A slight blush pinkened her cheeks as he made her wait. A hungry low growl sparked with his fresh heat and he abruptly couldn’t wait any longer.
Crawling over her, he picked up her hips in his hands as the claws disappeared and pulled her onto his hard cock. His foreskin hadn’t retracted yet and her pussy was so tight, it pulled it back as he thrust in. This time, he didn’t pull out when he came. He licked her breasts and sucked her responsive pink nipples as he waited to go again, his weight held off of her with one hand. She grabbed at him and the sounds she made could almost cut his recovery time in half. When he hardened again inside her and began to move, she gasped.
Victor looked up at her face and was caught by the expression there and the wide blue eyes staring back at him. Tears shimmered but didn’t fall as she watched him with wonder and fascination; her pink full lips were open as if her mouth wanted to be filled, too. He didn’t understand the way she watched him.
Growling, he dropped his gaze to her heavy breasts. She was young, younger than he’d first thought. They settled only a little in her supine position and moved gently as his powerful thrusts shifted her body up and back. The nipples were prominent, a good quarter-inch erect, and a perfect fresh pink. Reaching up, his fingertips pinched one, testing her response to find where pleasure turned to pain. She felt the pain soon enough, but it made her pheromones bloom around him again as she moaned and bit her lower lip.
Her hand moved and fingertips touched his lips. When her thumb stroked up one of his long lower fangs, a shudder ran down his spine. With a growl, he nipped at the fingers, his teeth snapping together.
Pulling her fingers away to avoid the teeth, she threw her head back and immediately came again, her manicured nails biting into his shoulders. Victor arched his back over her and let out a roar as he came that rattled the glass in the windows.
When he could speak, still buried deep, he looked down at her. “Sore yet?”
“No… You are so … beautiful…”
Victor glared at her. “Yer touched, huh? That why those weird freaks wanted ya – did ya escape a loony bin?”
She cocked her head at him, a puzzled expression taking over the stranger, softer one. “No, I just … think that you’re beautiful. Your body, the teeth, the … claws… You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
“Def touched in tha head,” he muttered. Her pussy was getting full around his dick, but he began to move once more, letting it harden when it could. “Ain’t done with ya by a long shot.”
Her hands pressed against and then stroked his broad furry chest, a smile growing as she realized it was soft blonde fur and not wiry human body hair.
“I want you to keep doing it until I pass out – wasn’t that the deal?”
Ignoring her jibe, he dropped his forehead down to her breasts and fucked into her hard. He wasn’t as rough as he could be, but she hadn’t tried to tap out yet, so he was willing to make it survivable for her.
The harder he thrust, the more she would writhe and once, she surprised him with an orgasm that started again the moment it stopped. Going by the noise she made, she’d surprised herself. Every ripple of the tight pussy was a gut-punch of pleasure on his cock. He filled her again and pulled out slowly, one hand under her ass to hold her pussy up at an angle.
“Open wider,” he ordered, and settled between her legs when she obeyed. A purr sparked in his chest and throat at the sight of her full pussy, sloppy white with his seed and starting to drip. He leaned in to scent it before he began to lap at it with his tongue. Her toes curled in his peripheral vision and then she hooked her heels onto his shoulders. Looking up, he told her, “Pinch yer nipples – hard. Wanna hear ya hurtin’ yerself while I suck yer pussy.”
“Oh…” she whispered, but her fingers moved to obey and as he lowered his head and gave her his mouth, her cries grew sharper. Her thighs began to tremble when he could tongue-fuck her again, the tongue curling and moving to lick her clean deep inside.
When he felt sated, he moved around her leg and flopped onto his back beside her. His breathing was still short. Her body had gripped him so tightly that she had almost wrung his cum from his dick before he meant to pop, more than once.
“So you can go again really fast…” She sat up and turned toward him, putting her hands on his stomach on either side of his softening dick.
Victor grunted at her without replying as he tried to slow his breathing.
“And you like the taste…” She leaned down and he hissed in surprise when she stuck her tongue out and licked at the mess on his dick. “Is it – too sensitive now?”
That won her a growl. “Ain’t got none o’ that in me. Feelin’ curious? Sit on it an’ see what ya get.”
Without hesitation, she moved to straddle him. Her long legs managed it with relative ease, her knees on the mattress at his hips. “It’s huge,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve never seen one – like that.”
“Used t’ spreadin’ fer needle dicks, huh?”
“Well … yes, actually, but I meant…” Her fingers reached out to touch the foreskin, which was hooding the head again. “I’ve never seen that. I know what it is, but – never … had one before.”
“Knock yerself out,” he responded, and watched her.
She picked it up, heedless of the mess turning sticky on it. Her explorations started to wake it up but not enough to pull the hood back. His eyebrow arched at her when she put her fingers around the head near the tip and moved them down, exposing the head a little. She seemed pleased with herself as it stiffened more, but then she laid it down on him again. He was about to speak when she moved up, put her hands on his chest, worked her long legs and started to rub her wet pussy up and down the shaft.
Leaning into it and biting her lower lip again, her arms had pressed those magnificent tits together and the nipples were poking out. He sucked in a breath when she came from rubbing on him, her little cries and the dripping wet ramping up his heat again. His dick hardened almost painfully fast once more and she watched avidly as the foreskin retracted. Victor was about to pull her off to mount her, when she slid her body up to the head and pressed forward, shifted her hips backward, got his head poised at her wet slit and then flicked her hips back farther and lifted up to allow it to pop inside of her.
“Fuck,” he whispered, shocked off his guard as she slowly pushed herself down, taking it all in deep until her ass was sitting on his pelvis.
Her smile was shy, actually fucking shy. His thoughts went blank as he watched her, mute and stunned as she began to fuck him.
“I read about that in Cosmo,” she confessed. “I guess it works. Is it… Am I doing it right?”
Victor set his hands on her hips and resisted the urge to growl at her again. This thing had just taken a turn for the strange. He had a lot of kinks in his arsenal, and this girl with her naïveté and her shyness had struck him dumb. He swallowed hard and tried to talk.
“Don’t hafta go at it like yer drillin’ fer oil, gonna wear yerself out. Follow my guide here,” he told her, his hands giving her hips a smack.
She nodded and tried to match the pace his hands showed her. Before she got there, she came and it hit three in a row and left them both gasping. She wasn’t using kegel tricks; it was all orgasmic spasms in that shock of a pussy.
“What tha fuck fer?”
“It just does that,” she said, flustered and blushing. “I’ve been told it’s … weird.”
“Told by those two striplin’ dickwads that fucked ya first? Whattaya care what meat t’ be wasted thinks o’ ya?”
She stopped moving and settled on him, her eyes wide. “How do you know about them?”
“I can smell ‘em on ya. That ain’t important – keepin’ movin’ up there is.” When she resumed, he added, “Don’t bother me none if yer pussy wants t’ drench an’ strangle my cock all night. Win-win.” She started to reply, but he reached up to squeeze those tits and flicked the nipples with clawless fingers and that shut her up just fine. She came again a moment later and the sensations were too much to take lying down.
Victor put a hand at her lower back to steady her and sat up. Driven by either lust or instinct, he wasn’t sure which, he flattened out his tongue and licked it up the side of her throat. He found himself staring into wide ocean-blue eyes shining with tears and hunger. She leaned in, slipping her tongue out, and he thought she meant to kiss him. The delicate pink tongue touched one of his lower fangs and licked up it. He froze as she put her soft lips on it, feathering kisses up its curved length.
His arm around her tightened as his mind just emptied. He was barely aware when she came again, but his body knew and responded to her in a way it never had to anyone. Her hands were on his chest, the palms rubbing over his nipples. He felt his stomach drop and flip and caught the scent of fear – his… She tried to kiss him, but he turned his head. Her mouth closed on his throat, kissed the pounding pulse under soft and plump pink lips – and then she bit him.
Victor tried to growl, but the moment her teeth had gripped his flesh around his pulse, he began to come. It felt almost violent, the pleasure tearing through him.
“Harder,” he told her, a hiss chasing the word. “Make it hurt…”
She tried, but she didn’t have the bite force, and her teeth weren’t going to be able to break the skin. Yet her mouth on his neck and her pussy throttling his cock as his ejaculate made her come again, was more than enough. When it was over, he meant to lie back. She wrapped her arms around his body as his ribs worked to help him breathe and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He held her in his arms and let the aftershocks stretch his nerve endings to the limit.
Thoughts in a whirl, Victor broke the embrace. He picked her up off of him bodily and laid her onto her back. She watched him, her legs open to him and he couldn’t do anything but crawl back over her. He wasn’t ready yet, but he didn’t care. One hand guided his cock to her dripping pussy and stuffed it in. He thrust it in and out until it hardened nearly by force.
She came as his soft dick was beginning to stiffen and her body made it ache for her. The bed was a mess under them, but she didn’t seem to care anymore than he did.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, “just keep doing it…”
“Yer gonna want me t’ stop before I hafta,” he answered.
“No, no … don’t stop fucking me, please…”
Victor’s heat overwhelmed him and something deep was stirred awake, something primal. He fucked her until he came and then he shoved it back in soft again. No matter how many times he did it, she didn’t ask him to stop.
Her muscles were shuddering, sweat poured from them both, but she would moan and cry out, and once, when he stopped and pulled free, she began to cry in earnest. He sat back on his haunches and watched her, his cock falling limp again. The little hands moved over her stomach, her fingers finding her full pussy. She opened her legs wider and her fingers tried to grasp the slick cum-smeared labia. He watched, mesmerized, breathing deep to scent her as she stuck two fingers inside and opened herself.
“I need it,” she whispered, her tone almost a whimper. “Please don’t stop…?”
Victor’s lips peeled back from his teeth as he growled. The sight of her opening, white with his cum, exposed by her trembling fingers, was too much. His cock twitched and started to harden sooner than it should have been able to. He moved between her legs and felt the fingers brush his cock as she held herself open for him to enter. When she moved her arms, he caught the wrists in one hand and held them over her head as he thrust.
“I want to feel your weight.”
“There’s more o’ that than ya think.”
“I don’t care…”
The arm that was holding it off of her bent and he lay on her, pressing her into the thin mattress as he thrust. The weight over her torso probably helped, but he kept his threat to fuck her until she passed out. He hoisted himself to let her breathe easier and didn’t stop until she burst into consciousness again with a little cry.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, gasping. Her hands stroked his chest and arms, pinched his nipples, and then she came again twice in a row, forcing his body to come in its grip.
The moment the insane pleasure was reduced to a low thrum in his veins, Victor dug his hands under her back and grabbed her against him. Rolling them both, he put her on top.
“Don’t move. I need a nap an’ tha only way I might get one is if I keep my dick parked in yer ravenous twat.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “Tell me a bedtime story – like why tha zombie freaks want ya. Whattaya do fer work?”
“Lab tech.” She smiled, not on board with the nap plan. Her body moved slightly and it felt too good to make her stop.
Before long, he began to thrust inside her and then it all started up again. They fucked for hours. Her heat remained strong, even when her body was exhausted, and she gave him so much sweet juice from that tight pussy that he could barely think in the cloud of musky sex he was drowning in with every indrawn breath.
Out of the depths of his damaged mind, fear lurked on the fringe of lust. He couldn’t stop touching her and he couldn’t stop trembling. When he finally yanked his body away from hers, he sat up and put a hand to his forehead. He felt her touch his back and he fought to stand as if she had burned him.
His head spun when he stood at the end of the sofa bed. The room seemed to tilt in his vision and he felt dizzy. Behind him, the scent of her heat was still strong, as if it was trying to consume him. Fear scent burst around him again before he realized it was inner demons and inner terrors driving him into heightened stress. He fought to breathe, waiting until the healing factor wiped away the dizziness. The compressing feeling of being trapped remained, even as she made him ache to have her again.
Tha strength in those long legs, that tight hair-trigger pussy – ‘er heat … is a match … fer mine. Victor shook his head almost violently. She ain’t no sex witch – just a nympho with a trick fer multiple orgasms. Fact that she checks all tha boxes on my wish list don’t mean she won’t wanna go back t’ wherever tha fuck she came from an’ forget all this. Succubi disappear when tha sun comes up, moron.
When he could walk, he started opening drawers in the dresser across the room, under the small box television. Grabbing fresh clothes, he stuffed them under his arm and fetched his boots on the way back to the bed.
“Are we … going somewhere?”
All he could think about was getting some distance before she swallowed him whole. “Should keep movin’; those freaks seemed pretty determined,” he muttered, hauling up a pair of blue jeans.
He picked up a dirty shirt from the floor and used it to wipe off his dick before he stuffed it in and buttoned the pants. For a moment, he felt dizzy again until the healing factor stopped it. She was clearly weary too, but her hunger was still there and it had driven his senses and his body relentlessly in a way he’d never experienced. In the end, he’d gotten out of the bed to escape her, as if she could drain him of his strength if he stayed. Pulling on a tan knit shirt with sleeves, Victor huffed out a breath. He sat on the edge of the sofa bed to put his socks and boots back on.
His bedmate sat up with the sheet pulled over her breasts. The abrupt modesty was odd too, after everything they’d done. She was … confusing…
“You’re a mutant … right? I couldn’t help noticing your wounds are, uh … gone, not even the scars are left.”
“Healin’ factor. Heightened senses.” Guess she don’t realize those bumps are healed-over bullets.
“I swear to you, I don’t know who those men were. The first time I saw them was … well, the first time I saw you.”
“Ya wanna start answerin’ my questions now?”
“I was apartment-sitting.”
Victor stood and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at her. “An’ yer job, tell me again.”
“I’m a lab tech, that’s all. I wash test tubes and push buttons.” She leaned back on one elbow, the other hand gesturing to emphasize her words. “Look, I don’t know what they wanted with me. I haven’t seen anything weird, gone anyplace special, done anything – but for what it’s worth … I’m sorry you got involved. You saved my life … thank you.”
Victor pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead and closed his eyes in disbelief. “Saved yer life – saved – yer … life.” Stomping a boot up onto the corner of the bed, one hand on his hip and the other stabbing his thumb back toward himself, he leaned over and shouted, “Do ya know how ridiculous that is? I’m an assassin, fer cryin’ out loud! A hired killer!”
She had leaned back when he’d gotten aggressive, but she wasn’t afraid. She watched him, her expression earnest and open. She was covered with his scent, her body full of his cum, and the way she looked at him made him shudder with both lust and fear. He couldn’t understand what she’d done to him. He turned away from her and leaned one hand down on the sidetable, the other gripping the only bottle there that wasn’t empty.
“Look … I can’t – I don’t know what you think of me. At this point I don’t know what I think of myself… I just moved here from Missouri three months ago, all right? I was prom queen. I used to babysit for extra cash. I never … never… The closest I ever got to … to danger was … was – was if I burned myself on a curling iron.”
Victor turned his head to look at her as she sat up and reached a hand out to his shoulder without touching him. She still had the sheet pulled up around her, her other hand clutching it over her breasts.
“This, what we did tonight – how I was – I didn’t know it could … that I’d… Look… I know what you were going to do with me. After I told you what you wanted to know, I’m not stupid. But this was – real. Wasn’t it? I’m telling the truth … you know that, don’t you?”
He tried not to crush the bottle. His other hand rose, the claws glinting in the light of the lamp and the windows. “It was their scent. Why I went up there. Those guys on tha roof – they were dead. Understand? Not rotten, but dead, just tha same. Dead men … an’ my claws barely scratched ‘em.”
“Um … so what are … what’re you going to do?”
Victor slumped over the bottle and bowed his head. “Ya were right. I can tell if someone’s lyin’ t’ me. I can smell it.” As she rose to her feet, he straightened and stared at his claws. “I…” She came closer, her scent still warm for him as she cocked her head to one side and smiled. Victor dropped his hand and met her gaze. “Yer gonna need some new clothes.”
With a sigh, he lifted, shoved, and folded up the old sofa bed, ears pinning at the metal twanging noises it made.
A shadow passed one of the skylights. As Victor looked up, the glass shattered all around them. He barely registered that the dead men had found them before a pair of them started firing darts. In seconds, nearly twenty of them struck him at once and he collapsed to the rug.
“Ya…nnhh…” His speech slurred into a garbled moan. Struggling to get up, trying to pull them out, he heard the woman screaming.
Piotr crouched to watch him. “That’ll keep him down.”
The bald man from the roof answered, “Da, but let us make certain.”
Piotr rose and leveled the submachine gun at Victor. Aleksander lifted one, too. Others watched as they opened fire, their shouts of triumph drowned out by the woman’s screams. Victor turned his head to see her through the close-range muzzle fire. Wrapped in his sheet, covered with his scent, her fingers pressed against her lips as she watched in horror with tear-filled eyes.
They’ll kill ‘er…
He tried to turn his body, to fight to his feet, but his body was failing him. Her fear scent washed over him as the blackness edged in, trying to pull him down.
The voice of the bald man was shifting through his fading senses. “Miss Bonnie Hale, correct? Don’t worry … we’ll make this quick.”
Author’s Note: Victor’s 1959 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham (pronounced “Brom”) is one of only ninety-nine cars made in Italy in 1959. It is “tawny” (yellow-brown) with chrome accents in the comics art. I’ve decided that’s because of his love for Joe Cocker and the song Sandpaper Cadillac. I had a round robin-style consultation with some Cadillac expert friends via Facebook after posting photos from my comic that show Victor’s car, which he says is a Cadillac. They couldn’t sort out from the art what year or model it was, and finally concluded that the artist must not have been sure how to draw a Caddy, since parts look like a Plymouth, etc. So instead, I decided to find a cool and unique car that would appeal to Victor’s vanity and be a prized possession. In the comic, he states he spent a mint on having it armored, and it appears to be bulletproof, in the body and the glass. Even though he states he “hated to ditch that car”, I plan to have him driving it in later stories, because it’s simply too cool. Just for fun, I’m going to say it is number fifty-nine of the ninety-nine that were made.
As with the Cadillac, there are guns, apartment details, etc. that are simply not clear in the comic, so I will be researching plausible weapons and making my best guess on other details as well, where necessary. Thanks for reading! – AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)