dog chasing cars

He pressed his forehead against hers as he drew a ragged breath. "I think I'm going to want to keep you." - Jennifer L Armentrout (Moonlight Sins)

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. - Patricia Smith (Shoulda Been Jimi Savannah)

"But you and me? We stick together." He turned his face to me and said, "When I get out of this shithole, and I will get out, I'm taking you with me." - Chloe Walsh (Boys of Tommen)

"I'm the sweetest girl in town, so why are you so mean???" - #unsentproject.

"... I bet it doesn't feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?" - Fishtank, 2009

"We can get ice cream." I snort. "Do I look like the kind of guy who goes on ice cream dates, half pint?" "No," She sighs. "I guess you don't." We walk in silence for a few seconds. "What flavour are you getting?" - Tessa Bailey (My Killer Vacations)

“Why would I not be?” I asked, still breathless from the kiss. He chuckled as an answer and pressed me close to him once more. Devoured me as if I was the whipped cream on those mugs of hot cocoa sitting forgotten on the table, and he was determined not to let the cream melt.

Even though he wasn’t taller than me by terribly much, the way I arched up to him made me ache with that primal sense of belonging. Of belonging to him. Something that made me so needy it disgusted it me with shame – yet I could kiss him for hours. Even as he tasted of cigarettes and he kissed rough. Even as teeth no longer clashed, he consumed me. Nipping at my lips, his scruff scratching my skin, and the fingers that dug into the back of my neck pulling me ever closer to him. Two open mouths.

He pulled me back for a breather again, just to look at me; all out of balance, all out of breath. Of course he was just some stranger who wanted to be ‘repaid’ for helping a traveller out with car trouble – but he’d been so kind. Was I naïve? Undoubtedly. But was I not allowed to? To, for once in my life, be a bit of a hedonist?

Letting a strand of his hair coil around my finger, before tugging gently, I said: “You taste good.”

“Yeah? You want more of me? Ach, look at you, can’t get enough of ol’ Otis, hmm?”

I chuckled, but it was true. Perhaps feeling too romantic, as I answered him. “Could do this for hours.”

He let his voice drop lower in tone, pressing his lips against my temple, breathing in deep, “Let’s go upstairs then. No one to disturb us there.”

His room, dark and no doubt messy, but mostly dark. It smelled of him, of man and copper and vaguely of the way his clothes smelled like cigarettes. Once the door clicked shut, he had me pressed against the pleasantly cool wood and his lips on mine.

“God, can barely wait,” he breathed, as he nipped my lip. To avoid the sharpest of the tug, I moved my head towards him, but he pushed me back with a hand around my throat. I hissed at the sting. “Am I too rough for ya, sweetheart? You’d rather I be gentler?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer, and kissed me instead, nudging his knee in between mine. My body, instinctively, sought friction against it, and he pressed himself so far into me that it was almost uncomfortable. He was only encouraged by my increasingly rough tugging at his hair. His breathing grew heavier, and I whined as my hips bucked into him. Didn’t have to see him to feel him smile into the kiss, pleased with what he did to me with such ease. Growing bored with my bottom lip, he moved on to my ear, hot breath heating me, teeth scraping my neck. This passion, this intensity was unlike anything I experienced before. He wasn’t afraid to hurt me, knowing he made me feel much, much better. And because of that, it freed me to do the same. To let go, no holding back. To tug at him, to bite, to draw a little blood. To devour. To forget myself and to lose my day-time version of myself.

Whenever I pulled away, his beautiful, strange eyes stared back at me, crinkling at the corners with crow’s feet, and him smiling like that was all the reassurance I needed. He was enjoying this – enjoying me. His intensity resembled impatience and that realisation sent shocks of need to my lower belly.

Halting our kiss, I greedily sucked in air.

“You notice anything strange, sweet thing? About all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

At that he grinned; the grin of a cruel animal, knowing it’s closing in on its prey. “No, it’s fine. But you may be a little more careful next time, before entering someone’s room just like that. Did you pay any attention to your surroundings at all?”

Frowning, I shook my head in confusion, still looking up at him, the glint of his amber eyes mesmerising in the dim moonlight from the window.

He chuckled aloud now, shaking his head at me. “No, you didn’t. You only got eyes for me. How adorable.”

I thought that was that, and reached up to pull him to me, to taste him again. He tsk’ed at me and pulled away.

“Even with a warning like that- sweet, naïve thing.” His tone worried me, it was more than just that bad boy type danger, more than just cigarettes and whiskey and an old truck and grease and dirt under the nails. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he whispered; “why don’t you look around?” and flipped the light switch.

And looking around him halted the breath in my lungs. Blood. Gore. A person on the floor, spilling blood that hadn’t even dried yet on the wooden floorboards. Another, on the bed, half of him on the floor, dead eyed stare to some place next to me.

He chuckled as I stiffened against him. Unable to speak, a scream never came.

“Shh, shh,” he said, pressing me close enough that it became harder and more awkward to find enough of a grip on him to push him away. “You’re a smart girl, and all I want of you now, is that you’re just as sweet as you were a minute ago. Can you do that?”

When I didn’t answer, he gripped me by the throat, slamming me against the door, painfully so. His eyes were wild.

“What’s the matter, don’t like me anymore?” he mocked.

Before I properly shook my head, he tightened his grip so severely, I knew I stood no chance.

“Alright,” he said, loosening his grip, enjoying my harboured breathing and pleading look, “I’ll tell you a secret.” His finger tapped my cheek. “I like you, and as of right now, I have no plans to hurt you. But I like you sweet and moaning, so you better show me sweet. And if there is no sweet, it’ll be sour. Got it?”

I nodded, still barely catching my breath. With great relief, he moved his hand away from my neck, and held both of mine with his, intertwining our fingers.

“I’m not a patient man,” he warned.  

Knowing Otis meant his warnings, I leaned up and pecked him on the lips. This is unreal. My body shook with what it had seen. Yet nothing hurts. Not me.

“Is that all you got? I think you were a lot nicer just a moment ago.”

Closing my eyes and trying my damnest to ban the images from my mind, I kissed him again. Self-preservation. Relaxing my lips, my body, leaning into him. He moved my hands to his shoulders and I held on to him. This time, he held back – a test. Almost no response from him as I leaned into him. In comparison to before, it was like kissing a wall. When at last he parted his lips and let me nip at him, pull him down to me, and it felt like I won him over. And the reward was a dreamy kiss – so good I wish my first ever kiss were anything like this. The softness contrasting to the violence of him. Even without the teeth, without his stinging edge, kissing him was all sparks and heat. I was gasping for air again, and as I pulled away for a breather, he livened up again, forcing his tongue between my lips, not allowing me to pull away. The knee dug in between my thighs to reawaken what warmth had been there shortly before – had me whining softly.

“That’s more like it. Knew you were a good girl.”

Hand at the back of my neck angled my face so he could kiss me deeper, no longer holding back, harsh breaths, noses bumping, his taste no longer as noticeable as it was now our taste. He made me dizzy. To breathe properly, I moved to his neck, pulling his hair so he’d let me. His skin was salty with sweat, his hair soft against my cheek. As I let him feel my teeth, to test it out, I was glad to find he didn’t hold back with his moan either, and let his head fall to the side. So I did it again, harsher. His grip on my hair tightened and I sucked on the skin.

“Oh, you’ve got some teeth on ya.” That pleased him. Everything sounded filthy as he said it. But that was all the freedom I was allowed and he dived back to kiss me, his hands rubbing my hips and sides, warming me. I snaked mine under his thin t-shirt. I moaned into his mouth as he kneaded my ass, grinding me onto his thigh.

“How d’you feel? I make you feel good?”

Shy, but pulled from my thoughts and into my body as he tugged at my lip – letting me know he expected an answer this time. With rough fingers, he pressed my face to the side and gestured at the corpse behind him.

“I wanna hear it, or you’re not gonna like me much anymore.”

Delirious from it all, I gasped. “It feels good, god, you feel good.”

“How ‘bout we take it to someplace more comfortable, hmm? Won’t you help out a little?”

And he pushed me to the bed, pointing towards it. The corpse still there, one leg slumped down on the floor, in a pool of blood. Another test.

“What-“

“Help him out, won’t you? Just give ‘im a little tug and he’ll fall right off. Or would you rather join the other one on the floor?”

My gaze flickered over to that one, considerably more mangled, mouth open in a last scream and I winced. Slowly, I shook my head, looking back up at Otis. Not breaking eye contact, taking it as a comfort that I was still unhurt – yet unsafe – and looking at him helped. At least so I could see whether my actions pleased him. That thought almost sent me into a panicked spiral, but the first contact with the victim’s bare arm shook me out of it and into the reality of this grim room. A strong tug, only looking at the body when it was hit the floor, then straight back up to Otis. I dropped the arm I was holding and it landed with a wet smack. Gross.

Satisfied, he enveloped me within seconds, devouring me until the world was spinning. With the softness of a mattress at my back, it was truly the world that turned upside down; he toppled me over without breaking the kiss. As my hands clawed at his shoulders again, digging into his bare skin, he leaned back to consider me as I laid down under him. Part of me felt disgusted with it, with the fact that the bed was covered in blood, even with Otis, as he smugly grinned down at me, enjoying my discomfort. But there was something indescribable in his eyes too, something ferociously, frighteningly adoring – and I revelled in it. Wrapped that feeling around me like a shawl – of being desired. 

“Think we could do with fewer clothes.” And he took my hand and pressed it to the hem of his shirt. Wants me to undress him. I leaned up and took a deep breath. As he finished up and put the shirt by the end of the bed (avoiding stains), I unbuttoned my blouse – unable to hide my eagerness. When I put it near where he put his, his hands prevented me from undressing further, pressing me into the mattress.

“You look good enough to eat,” Otis said, voice low like a growl, and nipped at my lip. His hands wandering, tugging at straps, at waistbands of tights and skirt, kneading breasts through padding. Not long after it was all gone. Discarded somewhere.

Otis stared at me, appreciatively, and took his time handling me; legs wide, then pulled me by the knees flush to him, erection heavy on my stomach. I reached up to kiss him, trying to prolong this phase out of nervousness. Avoided looking below his chest, but the feel of it was intimidating enough.

“Feelin’ shy?” he teased, leaning on his elbows, hand around my throat, angling our faces better. I mimicked him and wrapped mine around his neck, at which he chuckled. “Ain’t got nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart.”

Was it that obvious? I dug my nails in his upper arms. He hissed, then laughed softly, pressing kisses on my forehead, cheeks, nose. Melting into him, I allowed him to position me as he wanted, mess around with my legs, letting his cock rest on my labia, a taste of what was to come.

“I’ll take good care of you, don’t you worry,” he was smiling through his reassurances, almost mocking me. Feeling warmed by his kisses and the possessive way his hands roamed my body, from throat to chest to belly, letting his fingers trail down to my clit as my hips bucked into him. Whiny noises turned to moans as he moved a finger in between my labia and pressed inside.

“You want me? You want me to fuck you good?” He was out of breath himself.

I nodded, dizzy as he devoured me, sloppy and wet. Open mouth on my neck, making me shiver as he nipped at the pulse points. Otis’ finger curled inside, and I almost screeched. How was everything he did this intense? Reeling from that one finger, he established something of a rough rhythm that hit just perfect each time.

“No, no, no, please,” I clamped my fingers around his wrist.

“What’s that? Can’t take it?”

I shook my head, pleading him with my eyes as he certainly didn’t slow down and left me dizzy and throwing my head back into the pillow.

“I thought you’d do better. After all, it was you who wanted this. Said you liked me so very much.” But his hand didn’t stop, only curled in so deep that it hurt and I screamed.

“Otis, please-”

He pulled his hand back – a relief but a loss – and pet my head, kissing me unexpectedly softly. “Shh, shh.”

Tears ran down to my ears, and I wiped them away.

“Please,” I whispered, looking up at him through wet lashes.

His wicked smile didn’t reassure me in the slightest. “You look so sweet right now. But god, I’m impatient.”

I pressed my eyes closed and another tear made its way down and into my hair. Smothering it by turning my head to the side only served to put me face to face with the cut up corpse in the middle of the floor. Otis kissed my neck, right by the collarbone, hair tickling. The realisation that I didn’t have that much of a choice in this was startling. As much as I wanted him, will I even survive to the morning? Perhaps this is how each of those people ended up here, enamoured by Otis, the white haired beautiful man, who was so smart, and so nice, and such a good kisser. And now they’re dead on the floor of his room.

As if he read my thoughts, he said: “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

My body flinched as he positioned himself at my entrance, pushing my labia aside. He pressed my hand to his cock, and I gripped it tight, to which it pulsed and twitched. Otis groaned, leaning down to capture my lips again.

“What’s your last name?” he asked, and despite confusion, I told him.

“Why do you care?”

He laughed, a beautiful yet mean laugh. His thumb pat my clitoris, rubbing it. Then he pressed in, slow, hissing an exhale. He let himself fall to one elbow, kissing me as he slowly but thoroughly bottomed out. It stretched me, and I whined with each new tug of sensation, perfect, perfect, so full and so perfectly his. The world spun, but it was just him, just the feel of him that was the world.

After settling in fully, enjoying my heat, taking a moment; noses bumping, hot breath on my face, breathing in his air. He moaned as he pulled back, and I did as he pushed back in.