𝓦𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻

another night alone. your boyfriend is with his friends, drinking and gaming. at least that’s what he told you.

you’re watching a horror movie, curled up inside a blanket when the phone rings.

curious, you pick it up.

a deep male voice calls your name

"who is this?" you ask.

"your boyfriend", the voice answers.

"josh, this isn’t funny", you say, suspecting that your boyfriend might be pulling a prank on you.

"ain’t no joke, luv", the voice says. doesn’t sound like your boyfriend.

"you like scary movies?" he asks.

you chuckle. "sure", you say.

"look outside", the voice says.

you go stand by the window. you let out a loud scream. there’s a man in a black cape and a white, smiling mask standing in your yard. he’s holding a phone.

"josh, knock it off!" you hiss.

"aww, luv, i ain’t josh", the voice says, almost sweet.

you hang up the phone to dial the police. that’s when you hear your door slamming open, the lock breaking. you scream as the masked man steps inside, yanking the phone from your hand. "you won’t be needin’ this now", he says.

you run, fast. anywhere but here. you try to get to the bathroom, but the man grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

you scream and thrash, but he doesn’t seem to mind. just carries you to your bedroom.

he throws you on the bed. you try standing immediately, but he takes out a knife. it’s bloody. "if you scream or move i’ll use this", he says.

you freeze, believing him. so you stay still. the masked man lights some candles. "more romantic this way, don’t you think, luv?" he chuckles.

you start crying. the masked man lets out a grunt. "shut up, cunt", he hisses. when you don’t stop he slaps you, hard.

he pins you down on the bed, slamming your wrists against the bedpost. he gets out handcuffs from his pocket and uses them to restrain you.

you start bawling. "stop, please stop!" you cry.

the man then moves, ripping your pants with his knife, pulling down your panties. he squeezes them into a ball and shoves them inside your mouth. "better", he says.

hot tears keep spilling from your eyes as the masked man rips your shirt, exposing your breasts.

"sixteen years in prison an’ not a single leaking cunt", the masked man murmurs. "i hope you’ll satisfy me", he adds.

he drags the bloody knife between your breasts, leaving smears of blood on your skin.

then he makes a cut. you scream, the gag muffling your cries.

"aww, luv, bleedin’ so pretty for me", the man coos. he makes another cut, on your breast this time. you cry out, it hurts like hell.

you shake your head, whimpering. the man looks around the room, finding your scarf on the floor. he wraps it around your eyes, blindfolding you.

when you can’t see he takes off his mask, revealing his face. if you could see him you’d think that he’s handsome. blue eyes, some stubble.

he leans in, licking your blood from the wound. "taste so sweet", he purrs, kissing the cut.

he brings the knife to your inner thigh, making another cut. you squeal in pain.

"aww, let’s mix the pain wi’ pleasure, shall we?", he purrs, taking off his gloves. you flinch as his calloused thumb starts rubbing over your clit, drawing tight circles.

since you don’t see him the feeling somehow intensifies, sending lightning-like sensations through your body.

as he’s rubbing your clit he takes two fingers, shoving them inside your already drooling cunt. "ahh, hell, you’re soakin’ wet", he chuckles, kissing your cheek.

you whimper as he starts pumping his fingers in and out, all the while teasing your sensitive clit with his rough thumb.

he presses a series of wet, sloppy kisses down your throat and shoulders, obscene in its mockery of tenderness.

you come hard, legs shaking, tears wetting the scarf.

the man chuckles and withdraws his fingers from your cunt.

you hear him move, you don’t see what he’s doing. but you soon realize what’s happening when you feel a terrible, burning sensation on your wounded chest.

your muffled screams are like music to his ears as he pours the hot candle wax on your skin, watching it dry on your breasts and between them.

your skin is burning up, but the worst part is your open wounds being exposed to the hot wax. the pain is throbbing, sharp.

he sets the candle on the table and quickly releases you from the cuffs, flipping you over on your stomach in one smooth motion.

he makes you arch your back. you whimper as you feel his rough fingers gathering your slick. you hear him moan around his fingers, licking them clean.

then you hear the sound of a belt buckle clicking, something being dropped on the floor. next it’s the sound of a zipper sending.

his hard cock slaps your ass, thick and long, oozing pre-cum at the tip.

he spreads you open roughly, lining up. you don’t have time to process what’s happening before you feel him all the way inside you.

you cry out, it hurts. you can’t tell him to stop, can’t tell him that you’re in pain. you can just cry and whine as the man starts thrusting, hard and rough.

his balls are slamming against your ass, his hands squeezing on either sides of your hips, surely bruising.

the scarf slips off, now you can stare at the pillow. before you can take a peek at your attacker he puts his mask back on.

he slaps your ass, hard. ”sneaky cunt”, he sneers. then he grabs you by the neck, pulling you to him.

he starts choking you with one hand, while the other holds your hip.

your eyes water, you can’t breathe. he just keeps squeezing your neck, like he’s actually trying to kill you.

you start getting lightheaded when he finally stops, letting your neck go. you start coughing, tasting the salt of your own tears.

”you like it, slut? like being raped by a stranger?” he continues tormenting you, continuously slapping your ass. ”i bet you fuckin’ do”, he adds. you can hear his grin when he talks, his voice almost childlike.

you can feel him getting closer to his release, his pace starts turning more sloppy and frantic.

he quickly pulls out, coming on your ass. you feel his warm cum burning your bruised ass.

you’re too scared to move, so you just stay there, shaking.

the man stands, pulling his pants back up. then he starts cleaning you up. he wipes his cum off of you, wipes the spots where he kissed you. he’s precise, not leaving anything that could indicate his presence.

he forces you in the shower, demanding that you clean your cunt properly. he makes you put your fingers inside, spreading it open, letting the water go in. you cry the whole time, knowing that the police won’t have his dna now.

he cleans your wounds almost gently, without saying a word.

makes you change the sheets, makes you put the washing machine on for the olds ones.

then, finally, he leaves. you walk him to the door, like you’re making sure he’s actually going.

the last words he gives you make you shudder.

Pairing: Dom!Remmick x Sub!Fem!Reader  - One Shot, A.U. (No Beta)

A.N.: I'm posting this before I overthink myself into making any unnecessary changes to this Fic. 😭 I know it's been a while since I mentioned Pet Play with Remmick, but here it is. Another 2 Part Fic. I hope ya'll enjoy! Please consider leaving likes, comments & reblogs! They're always appreciated. Also, please heed the CWs, if it's not your thing it's best to not engage/interact. Thank you in advance to those who take the time to read! 🖤💜

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+, BDSM, Dominant Remmick, Submissive Reader, Pet Play, Collaring, Leash, Fake Ears, Tail Plug, Oral (F + M), Edging, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dirty Talk, Praise, Spanking, Degradation, Blindfold, Sex Toys, Fingering (V + A), Squirting, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, PiV, Rough Sex, Creampie, Biting. (Plz lmk if I missed anything!)

Summary: You become Remmick's Pet.

W.C.: 5k

Divider Credits: @uzmacchiato @cyberangel-graphics @angeliicide

Tag List: @justalittlefreaksblog @crowsberries @bluntfriend @h3r3t1c @geminigirlsblog

MASTERLIST

~Part 1 (wc:1.2k)~

The first time Remmick called you Pet, you should’ve known what kind of night it was going to be. Not that you were complaining. The word had slipped out between his lips like a secret, low and rough, while his fingers traced the curve of your ass.

You laughed, because what else were you supposed to do? But the sound died in your throat when his grip tightened, just enough to make you still.

“You think that’s funny?” His voice dropped an octave, the kind of sound that sent a slow, hot pulse between your thighs. 

You considered a sarcastic response, but the way his thumb pressed into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and the way his other hand cupped the back of your neck like he was already deciding how hard he could pull—yeah, you were fucked before you even opened your mouth.

Remmick's smirk was all fangs, like he knew, before he dragged you closer.

“Try it on. See how it fits.”

The collar was leather, soft but heavy, with a little silver bell that chimed when you moved. He fastened it around your throat himself, his fingers cool against your skin, breath fanning the nape of your neck. The sound it made when you swallowed was obscene, like you were already his, already owned. And the way his pupils blew wide when he heard it told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“First rule,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “No speakin'. Pets don’t talk.” His hand found your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his. “You wanna communicate? You whine, whimper, or beg.” His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, pressing just hard enough to part them. “Understood?”

You thought about biting him, until you noticed the way his cock twitched against his jeans when you nodded, the way his grip on your jaw was borderline painful—fuck, you liked it.

"Good girl,” he purred, and the praise sent a jolt straight to your clit.

The second rule was simpler: No clothes.

He stripped you himself, peeling your clothes from your body like he was unwrapping something precious, his knuckles brushing your ribs, your waist, the swell of your hips. By the time the fabric pooled at your feet, you were already wet, nipples hardened, and skin prickling with anticipation.

He didn’t rush or touch you where you ached. Just looked, his gaze dragging over you like a physical caress, lingering on the way your breath hitched when his fingers ghosted over your neck, the way your thighs trembled when he crouched in front of you. “Such a pretty pet,” he murmured, his palms sliding up the backs of your calves, pushing your legs apart. “Already drippin' for me.”

You made a sound, part protest and moan, but he just chuckled, his breath tickling the inside of your thigh.

“That’s right,” he said, his fingers finally, finally brushing over your pussy. “No words. Just sounds.” And then his mouth was on you, and you screamed.

He didn’t let you cum.

Not at first.

His tongue was relentless, swiping through your folds, circling your clit, diving inside you until your knees shook and your fingers tangled in his hair. Every time you got close, he pulled back, his lips glistening with you, eyes dark with satisfaction as you whined, hips jerking, and your body begging.

“Please,” you gasped, forgetting the rules, forgetting everything but the coil of need in your gut.

Remmick pulled back just enough to smirk up at you. “What was that, Pet?”

Fuck. You snapped your mouth shut, cheeks burning, but he just laughed, the vibration of it making your clit throb.

“Good girls don’t talk,” he reminded you before his fingers replacing his mouth, two of them sliding inside with a slow, deliberate curl. “But since you asked so nicely…”

And then his mouth was back on you, fingers fucking you deep while his free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. The orgasm hit hard and intense, back arching, vision whiting out. Your body convulsed around his fingers as he lapped up every last drop, his growl of approval sending another wave crashing through you.

You were still trembling when he stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his cock a thick ridge in his jeans.

“Fuck,” you panted softly, voice raw.

Remmick’s eyebrow quirked. “Was that a request, Pet?”

He wouldn't let you touch him.

Instead, he guided you to the bed, pushing you onto your hands and knees, the collar’s bell chiming with each movement. His hands were everywhere, gripping your ass, squeezing your breasts, tangling in your hair.

His mouth was hot on your skin, teeth and fangs scraping your shoulder, your spine, and the curve of your hip.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his cock finally free, the head dragging through your folds, teasing your entrance. “Say it.”

You hesitated, just for a second, and he spanked you, his palm cracking against your ass hard enough to make you yelp.

"Thought you said I couldn't speak?" You asked, but he ignored your question.

“Say. It.”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word torn from you. “Fuck, I’m yours.”

“Damn right you are.”

And then he was inside you, one quick thrust that stretched you open, filled you completely, his hands gripped your hips hard enough to hold you in place as he fucked you like he owned you.

The bed creaked, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Your moans mixed with his groans, the bell on your collar ringing with every snap of his hips.

“Such a good pet,” he grunted, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Takin' my cock so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be mine.”

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do anything but take it, your body rocking back into him, nails clawing at the sheets, another orgasm building. Tighter, hotter and closer.

“Cum for me,” he demanded, his voice rough, his cock swelling inside you.

And you shattered, pussy clenching around him, milking him as he groaned, his release spilling inside you in hot, thick pulses. He weight pinned your body to the mattress as you both rode out the aftershocks, breathless and wrecked.

Afterwards, he didn’t take the collar off.

Instead, he pulled you into his lap, your back to his chest, his cock still half-hard inside you. Remmick’s fingers traced the leather around your throat, the bell chiming softly as you leaned into his touch.

“Still think it’s funny?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

You shook your head, your body deliciously sore, your mind hazy with endorphins.

“Good.” His hand slid down, his fingers finding your clit, already sensitive, already aching again. “Because we’re not done yet, Pet.”

And when you moaned, when your hips rolled back against him, when the bell on your collar rang out like a promise, he laughed. Dark and satisfied, before his fangs sank into your shoulder and his cock twitched wildly, ready for another round.

Fuck.

You were his.

And you loved it.

~Part 2 (wc:3.7k)~

It had been a week since that first night, and you'd spent every goddamn day replaying it. The way he'd fucked you into the mattress, the way you begged without words, the ache that lingered like a bruise you couldn't stop pressing.

When he told you to come over, you knew better than to expect vanilla. But this? The leash felt heavier than the collar, somehow colder against your skin.

The bell on your collar rang softy as Remmick adjusted it, and the chain dangled like a promise of more trouble.

He tugged once, testing the hold, and you stumbled forward a step. His eyes narrowed, that smirk pulling at his mouth. "On your hands and knees, Pet. We're doin' things right this time."

You froze, heat flooding your entire body. "Remmick...what—"

The slap came fast, his palm cracked against your ass through the fabric of your jeans before you could finish. It stung, sharp and immediate, making your breath hitch.

"No talkin'. Remember the rules." He yanked the leash downward, forcing you to drop.

Your knees hit the carpet in his living room, the fibers rough against your palms as you caught yourself.

Fuck, this was humiliating. But fuck, it made your pussy clench.

He didn't give you time to adjust. Grabbing the leash in one fist, he started walking toward the kitchen. You had to scramble to keep up, crawling on all fours like some obedient animal, the bell chimed with every awkward shift of your hips. Your tits strained against your shirt, nipples already hardening, and you could feel the denim of your jeans rubbing wrong between your thighs. He glanced back once, his gaze raking over you, and you swear his dick was already thickening in his pants.

"Look at you," he said, voice low and approving. "Crawlin' so pretty for me. Bet you're gettin' wet already, ain't you?"

You bit your lip to keep quiet, but a barely audible whine escaped, involuntary, as he pulled you around the corner. The kitchen tile was cooler, harder on your knees, and he stopped at the island, looping the leash over a drawer handle to secure it short. You couldn't stand if you wanted to; the slack was just enough to let you shift, but not rise. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, watching like you were his favorite show.

"Strip," he ordered. "Everything off...Slowly."

You removed your shirt, the air hit your skin, raising goosebumps, and you tossed it aside, the bell chimed softly. Bra next, fingers fumbling with the clasp, letting your tits spill free. They felt heavy, sensitive, nipples peaking in the open air. Remmick's eyes darkened, but he didn't move, just nodded for you to continue.

Jeans were trickier from this position. You had to arch your back, ass up in the air as you unbuttoned and shimmied them down your thighs, kicking them off one leg at a time. The leash restricted your reach, forcing you to twist, and every movement made the collar pull taut against your throat.

Panties last, black lace, already damp at the crotch. You hooked your thumbs in the waistband and dragged them down, exposing your soaked cunt to the cool kitchen air. It was shaved bare except for a patch on the mound, lips sensitive and slick, and you knew he could see it all from where he stood.

"Good girl," he murmured, finally stepping closer. His boot nudged your knees apart, spreading you open. "Look at that. Drippin' for your walk already."

You shivered, heat pooling low in your belly, but you kept your mouth shut. His fingers trailed down your spine, light enough to tease, stopping just above your ass. Then, he unhooked the leash from the drawer, giving it a sharp tug. "C'mon, Pet. Time to explore."

He led you out of the kitchen, down the hallway, the carpet burning your knees as you crawled after him. The bell announced every movement, a constant reminder of what you were to him right now. His to command, and his to parade. Your breasts swayed with the motion, brushing your arms, and you could feel your arousal trickling down your inner thigh.

Fuck, why did this turn you on so much? The degradation, the control, it was like he'd cracked open something inside you that you didn't even know was there.

You ended up in his bedroom, the one place you half-expected mercy. No such luck. He attached the leash to the bedpost, short enough that you could only reach the edge of the mattress. "Stay," he said, like you had a choice, and disappeared into the closet. You knelt there, naked and exposed, pussy throbbing, trying not to rub your thighs together for friction.

When he came back, he had a few things in hand: a bottle of lube, a plug that looked bigger than anything you'd taken before, and a vibrator, sleek and black. Your eyes widened, but you swallowed the question, earning a nod of approval.

"Smart Pet. No words means no punishment." He set the toys on the bed and crouched in front of you, gripping your chin to tilt your face up. His thumb pressed into your lower lip, parting it. "But if you break, I'll make it hurt so good."

He stood, letting his jeans fall to the floor then kicked them aside, and pulled out his cock. It was thick, half-hard, veins standing out along the shaft. It bobbed as he stroked it once, twice, eyes locked onto yours. "Suck it. Make it wet for what's comin'. Been too long since I've used your mouth."

You leaned forward as far as the leash allowed, mouth opening to take the head. Salt and musk hitting your tongue, and you swirled around the tip, hollowing your cheeks to draw him deeper. He groaned, hand fisting in your hair, guiding you without forcing, yet. You bobbed, taking more, jaw stretching around his girth. Saliva dripped down your chin, mixing with the precum leaking from his slit, and you hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk.

"Fuck, that's it," he muttered, thrusting shallowly. "Such a good lil' mouth. But don't think this is 'bout you yet."

His hand cradled the back of your head, slowly pushing you down to take every inch of him. He held you in place, thrusting shallowly, forcing your throat open over and over again.

You could feel your eyes watering as saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth.

He pulled out abruptly, cock slick and shining, and you whined in protest. The slap landed on your ass immediately, harder this time, the crack echoing in the room. "No sounds unless I say. Crawl up here."

The leash gave just enough slack for you to pull yourself onto the bed, knees and palms sinking into the comforter. He positioned you on all fours, ass toward him, and you felt the bed dip as he knelt behind you. His hands spread your cheeks, exposing everything. The tight pucker of your asshole, the glistening folds of your pussy. Cool air hit you, then his breath, warm and teasing.

"Been thinkin' 'bout this hole all week," he said, thumb circling the rim. "Gonna fill it up, Pet. Make you crawl with somethin' stretchin' you."

You tensed, but the lube was already there, a cold drizzle over your ass, his fingers working it in. One digit first, pressing past the ring of muscle, slow and insistent. It burned a little, the intrusion foreign but not unwelcome, and you pushed back against it, earning a low chuckle. "Eager. Let's see how you take two."

The second finger joined, scissoring inside you, stretching you wider. Your pussy clenched emptily, dripping onto the sheets, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stay quiet. He fucked you with them, in and out. Pleasure building, sharp and dirty, mixing with the fullness.

By the time he pulled them out, you were panting, body trembling. The plug came next, blunt and unyielding at the tip, tapering to a flared base. He pressed it against you, twisting as he pushed, and you gasped at the stretch, the way it forced its way in inch by inch. It popped past the widest part, settling deep, the base nestling between your cheeks. Every tiny shift made it move inside, pressing against your walls, and the sensation was overwhelming, full, exposed, and owned.

Remmick tugged the leash, pulling your head back. "How's that feel? Bet it's makin' your pussy jealous."

You nodded frantically, a soft mewl escaping. No slap this time, he seemed pleased, unhooking the leash from the post to give you more mobility. "Crawl for me, darlin'."

He led you off the bed, back to the floor, the plug shifting with every crawl, sending jolts straight to your clit. Your ass swayed, tits bouncing, the bell ringing like a fucking dinner call. You circled the room once, twice, his pace unhurried, like he was walking a prized show dog. Sweat beaded on your skin, thighs slick, and you could smell your own wetness in the air.

"Stop." He yanked the leash, bringing you to the foot of the bed. "Ass up. Present yourself."

You arched, knees spread wide, face pressed to the carpet. The position opened you completely, plug visible, pussy lips parted and wet, begging.

His hand came down again, not a punishment but a tease, spanking lightly over the base of the plug, making it jostle inside you. You moaned, loud and broken, and he laughed.

"Breakin' already? Guess you need a real lesson." Five hard spanks followed, one after another, each one landing on the opposite cheek, the skin there growing hot. The pain intensified the heat, spreading to your core, and by the third, you were rocking back, chasing it. The plug amplified everything, rubbing inside with each impact.

He didn't stop there. Fingers dipped into your pussy, three at once, stretching you while the plug filled your ass. "So fuckin' wet. This what you wanted, Pet? To be stuffed and spanked like a slut?"

You nodded, biting your lip hard to stay silent, but a whine slipped out when he curled his fingers, hitting your G-spot dead on. He fucked you like that, rough and deep, thumb pressing the plug to make it grind deeper. Your orgasm built fast, coiling tight, but he pulled away just as you teetered on the edge, leaving you empty and aching.

"Beg with your body," he said, stripping off his shirt with efficiency. He stroked himself lazily as he watched you squirm. "Show me how bad you want it."

You pushed back, ass wiggling and spreading wider, the bell chimed desperately. It was pathetic and humiliating, but it worked. His groan was all the warning you got before he knelt behind you, lining up his cock with your cunt. He thrusts in hard, bottoming out in one go. The plug made everything tighter, fuller. You saw stars, mouth open in silent moans, walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, yes," he grunted, hands gripping your hips as he started pounding. Each snap of his hips drove the plug deeper somehow, the dual fullness overwhelming, friction building on every ridge of him. Your tits dragged against the carpet, nipples tender, and you clawed at the fibers, holding on as he fucked you like he was claiming territory.

He reached under, fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles that matched his pace. "C'mon, Pet. Milk me. Squeeze my cock."

You shattered, orgasm ripping through you, walls fluttering around his cock, juices soaking his sac and thighs. He didn't stop fucking you through it. The sounds were obscene: the slap of skin, the squelch of your pussy, and the bell's frantic chiming. Your body shook, ass clenching around the plug, prolonging the waves until you were a boneless mess.

Remmick pulled out, flipping you onto your back with a tug of the leash. You sprawled on the carpet, limbs heavy and twitching from the aftershocks, your pussy pulsing around nothing. Remmick loomed over you, cock slick and twitching, a bead of precum and your slick dangling from the tip.

He didn't give you a second to catch your breath; his hand wrapped around the leash again, pulling you up onto wobbly knees. The plug shifted inside with the motion, sending a fresh spark up your spine, and you gasped, tasting the salt of his skin on your lips from earlier.

"Stay," he said, voice rough with want. He left you there, kneeling in the middle of the bedroom floor, the bell on the collar was the only sound breaking the quiet.

Your skin prickled in the open air, nipples hard and tender. You could feel the mess between your thighs cooling, sticky against your skin. Part of you wanted to touch yourself, chase that edge he'd left you on, but the rules echoed in your head. No touching without permission, you'd learned that the hard way last time.

He came back from the closet with a small box, something new, smirking wider than before. "Time to upgrade your look, Pet." He set the box down and knelt in front of you, tilting your head back with a finger under your chin. Inside were faux ears, soft black fur attached to a thin headband, and what looked like a tail—long, furry, with a bulbous base that matched the plug already stretching your ass.

Your stomach flipped, a mix of nerves and that twisted excitement bubbling up. This was escalating, turning the game into something more immersive, more animal.

"Head up," he ordered, slipping the headband over your hair. The ears stood upright, light but noticeable. He adjusted them, making sure they sat right, then grabbed the tail plug. It was bigger than the one in you now, the furred length slightly curling towards the end. The base of the plug was wider, promising a deeper stretch. "Gonna swap this out. Keep still."

You nodded as he positioned you on all fours again, ass up. His fingers hooked around the base of the current plug, twisting it slowly before pulling it free. The sudden emptiness made you whine, your hole clenching around air, lube trickling out. He didn't waste time coating the new tail plug in fresh lube, the cool slickness hitting your skin, then pressed the tip against you.

It was thicker from the start, forcing your ass to yield inch by inch. The burn was sharper this time. You panted through it, pushing back to help, the furred tail swaying as he worked it deeper. When it was finally seated, the base flush against you, the tail hung heavy between your cheeks, brushing your thighs with every shift.

Remmick gave it a tug, testing, and the motion yanked inside you, making your pussy throb. "Fuck, look at that. My perfect girl." He purred, clipping the leash back on and stood, pulling you to follow. The tail dragged as you crawled, the ears flopping, turning every movement into a full-body reminder of the role.

You didn't go far, just around the bedroom at first, him leading slow laps while you scrambled to keep up on hands and knees. The tail swished against your legs, plug grinding with each knee forward, and your tits swayed freely. Heat built low in your gut, your clit aching for attention, but you kept quiet, earning a low hum of approval from him.

He stopped at the full-length mirror by the dresser, yanking the leash to make you face it. "See yourself, Pet? Ears, tail, collar—all mine."

Your gaze slowly lifted.

There you were, naked and crawling. The black ears perked awkwardly, and the tail curled behind you like you were some domesticated fantasy. Your skin was marked from earlier, his handprints on your ass, thighs shiny with your own slick.

It was degrading as hell, but the way his eyes raked over you, hungry and possessive, made your pussy clench around nothing.

"Back on the bed," he said, unhooking the leash from the post but keeping hold of it.

You climbed up, the tail plug shifting deep, forcing a soft moan from your throat. He positioned you facing the headboard, on all fours again, then tied the leash to the frame, short enough so you couldn't collapse forward.

Your ass was presented to the room, tail swaying, pussy exposed and dripping. Remmick got behind you, one hand gripping the tail base to hold it steady and push it aside while the other teased your folds, fingers sliding through the wetness without entering.

"You're soaked from this, ain't you? Crawlin' 'round with that tail stuffed in your ass." His voice was a growl, thumb pressing the plug to make it nudge inside.

You nodded, hips rocking back instinctively, chasing his touch.

He chuckled, dark and low, then slapped your ass once, the sting blooming around the tail's base. "No rushin'. Pets wait for their treat."

Remmick left you like that, tied and trembling, while he rummaged in the nightstand. Your brow furrowed as you focused on the sound out of curiosity. When he returned, it was with a small remote and blindfold. The fabric was black and soft against your skin when he slipped it over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

Everything sharpened: the creak of the bed, his breathing, the way the tail felt heavier now without sight. Then, something buzzed to life, a vibrator, slim and powerful. He attached it somehow, pressing the head right against your clit, the vibrations low but insistent, humming through your core.

"Fuck," you breathed, body jerking as the buzz hit. It was teasing, not enough to push you over, just enough to keep you on edge.

Remmick's hands were on you then, one fisting the leash to pull your head back, arching your spine, the other working the tail plug in shallow twists. Each turn made it drag against your walls, the fullness pressing toward your pussy, amplifying the vibe's thrum.

"Quiet," he warned, but his tone had that edge of pleasure, like he enjoyed the slip-ups. He leaned over you, chest to your back, cock sliding hot along your inner thigh as he reached around to pinch a nipple, rolling it hard.

The dual sensations, vibe on your clit, plug shifting, his weight pinning you, had you dripping onto the sheets, thighs quivering. You wanted to beg, but the rules held, turning your whines into muffled gasps.

He amped the vibrator with the remote, the buzz intensifying, and you bucked, the tail swishing wildly. "That's it, Pet. Let it build." His free hand dipped lower, two fingers plunging into your pussy without warning, thick and curling against the G-spot inside. He fucked you with them, matching the vibe's rhythm, the plug making every thrust feel tighter, fuller.

Your walls clenched around his fingers, sucking them deeper, and you could hear the wet sounds, obscene and loud in the blindfolded dark.

The orgasm crept up slow, then hit like a freight train, your body seizing, pussy spasming around his fingers, clit grinding against the buzzing head. You cried out, the sound raw and broken, tail twitching as your ass clenched the plug. Arousal spraying from you, soaking his hand, the bed, and he didn't stop, pumping through it until you were shaking, oversensitive and begging with nonsense sounds.

He withdrew his fingers and the vibe, leaving you panting and empty. The blindfold came off next, light hitting your eyes as he untied the leash, giving it a tug to flip you onto your back.

You sprawled there, legs splayed, tail pinned under you now, adding pressure that made you squirm. Remmick knelt between your thighs, cock in hand, stroking slowly while his gaze burned over you. The ears askew, collar crooked, skin damp with sweat, flushed and marked.

"Look at you, all fucked out already, it's pathetically cute. But, we're not done." He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, the position driving the tail deeper, making you gasp. His cock nudged your entrance, slick with your release, and he pushed in gradually, inch by thick inch, the stretch intense with the plug filling your ass.

It was like being split open, every vein on his dick dragging against your walls, the dual penetration turning your pussy into a vice.

He bottomed out, balls pressed flush against your ass, and held there, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness. "Fuck, so tight like this."

Then, he started moving, deep rolls of his hips that ground the plug with every thrust, his pelvis hitting your clit. You clawed at his arms, the bell jingling wildly, ears flopping as your head thrashed. It was too much, too good, pleasure bordering on pain, your body arched to take more.

Remmick's pace picked up, snaps turning brutal, skin slapping skin, the tail's fur tickling your skin with each drive. He gripped the leash like reins, pulling your upper body up slightly, making your breasts bounce hypnotically. He caught a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing, while his free hand reached back to tug the tail plug in time with his thrusts. The added motion made your vision blur, pussy fluttering around his cock, milking him without control.

"Cum again," he grunted against your skin, releasing the nipple with a wet sound. "Squeeze me, Pet. Show me how much you enjoy this." His hand moved down your body, finding your overstimulated clit, rubbing firm circles.

You shattered again, harder than before, walls clamping down, orgasm washing over you like fire, squirting again in messy bursts that soaked his abs. He groaned, thrusts faltering as your cunt gripped him, but he powered through, chasing his own release.

"Fuck, yes—gonna—oh f-fuck." Two more deep pumps, and he buried himself, cock pulsing wildly as he came, hot spurts flooding you, mixing with your wetness. The sensation pushed you into aftershocks, body trembling under him, the tail plug still lodged deep, amplifying every twitch.

He collapsed forward, careful not to crush you, breath hot on your neck as you both came down. Minutes passed like that, his weight grounding, cock softening inside before he pulled out with a wet slide, cum leaking from your pussy onto the tail's base. He untied the leash fully, then gently removed the ears and worked the tail plug free, the emptiness making you whimper one last time.

Remmick rolled to the side, pulling you against his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "Good girl," he praises, voice soft now, the edge gone. You nestled in, sore and sated, still wearing the collar as you drifted off.

~Chapter 1~

"Welcome home, dear." Your grandmother's voice, a brittle whisper, barely carried past the threshold as she held open the heavy oak door. "Come closer, let me see you."

You stepped inside the dimly lit parlor, and the scent of honey enveloped you.

"You've grown, haven't you? Still so small, though. My little sparrow."

You smiled at the nickname you hadn't heard in years since you left this small town at the age of 21. It had been a long time, almost too long. A few months short of ten years since you've been back.

"Time does that, Gran. Not much growing left to do." You replied as you embraced her in a tight hug.

"I can't believe they're gone. Just like that." A sigh, heavy with unwept tears.

They were driving home when they hit a deer, or at least that's what the police report said. Accidents like that happen.

"You look tired. The journey?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "The travel. Everything."

"You must be famished. I've made your favorite stew. Just like your mother used to make."

"Thank you, Gran." A soft smile crossed your face as she led you to the kitchen to sit as she brought you a bowl and spoon. She sat across from you as you ate.

"Tell me about the city. All those years away." She urged with interest and excitement.

"There's not much to tell. Books, lectures, libraries. The usual."

"And no young man to tell me about?" A hint of a smile, fleeting.

"No, Gran. Just the books."

"Always the books. You've always been like that, weren't you? Head buried in stories. Perhaps that's why you never say what was right in front of you."

You paused mid-bite, brows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind that. Eat... We'll talk more later. There's a Mass tomorrow. For them. Father Remmick will be there."

Who?

"Father Remmick? Is he new?"

"New? He's been here for years. A year or so after you left."

The following day, the weather was partly sunny as you approached the church. As soon as you stepped inside, the sun barely peeked past the thick clouds. Dim sunlight pierced through the red stained-glass, casting jewel-toned dust motes into the air. You sat beside your grandmother, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air.

"He's a good man, Father Remmick," your grandmother whispered, nudging you. "Very devoted."

A figure emerged, the cassock, black as midnight, seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it. His hair, dark and slicked back, framed a face that was surprisingly unlined for a man your grandmother described as 'not new'. His eyes, when they swept over the congregation, were a startling blueish-grey. They paused, for a fraction of a second, on you.

"Welcome to this solemn remembrance." His voice, a low baritone, resonated through the room. "We gather today to mourn, to pray, and to seek solace in the eternal light of our Lord."

The Mass unfolded, a familiar ritual you hadn't experienced in years. When the time came for communion, your grandmother went forward. You stayed in your seat.

"You didn't go," your grandmother observed, her voice hushed as she returned.

"I...I haven't in a long time, Gran. Doesn't feel right." You explained.

"He noticed, you know."

"Who?" A shiver traced its way down your spine.

"Father Remmick."

After the service, as people shuffled out, offering hushed condolences, your grandmother steered you towards the Priest.

"Father Remmick, this is my granddaughter. My Rose and Thomas's daughter."

Remmick's gaze, when it met yours directly, felt like a physical touch. Intense, unwavering. A flicker, almost imperceptible, deep within those blue-grey depths. He extended a hand, long and slender; his touch was cold against your skin.

"My deepest condolences." His voice was a low thrum that resonated in your chest. "Your parents were cherished members of our community. Their loss leaves a void."

"Thank you, Father." You managed, your voice a whisper as you pulled your hand away, and a strange unease settled over you.

"Even in sorrow, there's always a path to solace. Our doors are always open."

Days later, the funeral a raw wound, you found yourself adrift in the quiet house. Your grandmother, always pragmatic, had a solution.

"You're coming to Mass with me." Her voice was firm, brooking no argument. "It'll do you good. Give you strength."

You hesitated. Church hadn't been a part of your life for years. "Gran, I'm not sure—"

"Nonsense. Your parents would have wanted it."

The old church, smelling of books and incense, was a familiar yet alien place. You sat beside your grandmother, the hymns a distant echo of your past. Remmick stood at the altar, his presence commanding, his voice filling the open space. He spoke of faith, of resilience, of finding light in the darkest corners.

But you felt his gaze, again and again, drift toward you, a subtle, almost possessive focus that made the hairs in your arms pickle.

After the service, your grandmother tugged at your sleeve. "Father Remmick wished to speak with us."

He stood by the sacristy door, a faint smile on his lips. "It's good to see you here again."

"Thank you, Father." A faint blush crept up your neck.

"Your presence brings a certain...vibrancy to our congregation." His eyes held yours. "I trust you found some comfort in the service?"

"It was...different." You admitted. "I haven't been to Mass in a long time."

"A long time indeed," he nodded slowly. "Life pulls us in many directions. But the path back to grace is always clear. I noticed your stillness, your quiet observation. A thoughtful soul."

Your grandmother interjected, her voice carrying a hint of expectation. "She needs guidance, Father. She's been through so much."

"Yes," his smile widened, a flash of something sharp in its depths. "The confessional offers a unique solace, a cleansing of the spirit. Have you ever experienced it?"

You shook your head. "No, Father. Never."

"Then perhaps it's time." His voice was soft, persuasive. "A change to unburden your heart, to find peace in forgiveness. Your parents would want you to find that peace."

The mention of your parents, a subtle manipulation, struck a chord. Your resistance wavered.

"I-I suppose I could."

Remmick's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, which held a glint of triumph. "Excellent. I'm available tomorrow, late evenin'. Just come to the rectory. The confessional is there."

The rectory was an old stone building next to the church, shrouded in the deepening twilight. A single lamp glowed in the window, casting long, dancing shadows.

Your heart hammered a nervous rhythm against your ribs as you approached to heavy oak door. You haven't felt this kind of trepidation since your college interviews. You knocked, the sound echoing. A moment later, the door opened. Remmick stood there, his eyes seeming even more intense in the dim light.

"Come in." his voice was a low invitation.

The interior was sparse, the air was heavy with something faintly metallic. He led you down a hallway to a small room that had a red hue due to the stained-glass. A heavy wooden screen divided the space.

"Take a seat." He gestured to the kneeler on the other side. "I'll be in the other."

You knelt, the lush red cushion did little to support your knees as you sank and made contact with the wood underneath. You could hear the rustle of his clothing on the other side, the faint creak as he settled into his chair. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant.

The confessional booth smelled of old wood, damp wool, and wax.

Remmick ran his tongue along his teeth. His skin prickled, not from the crucifix now biting into his palm, but from the scent threading through the confessional cracks. Something warm, human. Alive. His jaw ached. He hadn't fed tonight. Deliberate.

"Speak what is in your heart. This is a sacred place, a sanctuary for truth. What burdens you?"

The scent of your grief coiled around him. Suffocating and intoxicating. His nostrils flared as the scent of your tears hit him. He wanted to trace the tear rolling down your cheekbone, taste the salt of it. His gums throbbed. His tongue pressed against a fang, the sharp edge drawing a bead of blood. Discipline.

He's disciplined himself for centuries. But this, this unraveling, this raw, pulsing humanity was different.

"I keep forgetting they're...gone." A hitch in your breath before you quickly wiped the tear away. "I feel guilty. I wasn't here, I was away. I should have been closer."

"Guilt is a heavy burden." His voice was soft and soothing. "But it is often misplaced. Did you not love them?"

"Of course I did."

"Then your absence is not a sin. Don't punish yourself for somethin' out of your control." His voice grew softer, almost a murmur. He wanted to tell you faith was worthless compared to the heat of your blood, the weight of your gaze.

"Tell me what else troubles you. What secrets do you hold within that seek release?"

That question, so direct, so intimate, startled you. A strange urge overcame you, an urge to confess everything. To lay bare your deepest fears, your unfulfilled desires. It was an unsettling sensation, the sudden openness.

"I've always been a solitary person, Father. I keep to myself. Sometimes I feel...disconnected. From everything."

"A quiet strength. Or a fear of vulnerability?" He seemed to probe, to peel back layers. "Do you fear connection? Do you fear the intimacy that comes with true communion?"

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "Maybe. I don't know. I've never...I've never truly allowed myself to be close to anyone, not really. Not since I left home."

"And why is that?" His voice was like a silken thread, drawing you in. "What keeps you guarded? What walls have you built around your heart?"

His questions weren't what you expected from a confessional. They were too personal, too probing. Yet, you found yourself answering, drawn by the hypnotic quality of his voice, the near darkness of the small room, the strange intimacy of the screen between you.

"I'm afraid of being hurt. Of losing people. Like..." Your voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence. "It's easier to just keep everyone at a distance."

"A defense mechanism." He mused. "But a lonely one. To truly live is to open oneself to both joy and sorrow. To love deeply is to risk profound pain. But the alternative, that is the true tragedy."

A long silence stretched, filled only with the sound of your own soft breathing. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet a strange sense of catharsis bloomed in your chest.

Remmick's fangs scraped his bottom lip. He'd watched your parents die—had made them die—their throats torn open by his hand, not the deer. The memory was still fresh in his mind. Their screams, the scent of blood. It made his fangs ache.

"Father," you whispered, "do you ever feel like...God isn't listening?"

Remmick suppressed a smirk at your question as he thought carefully on how to answer. The irony was delicious.

"Oh, He listens." He murmured. "The question is whether He cares to respond."

Your breath stuttered as his chest tightened with hunger. He could almost taste the salt of your despair on his tongue. His fingers twitched, aching to lick away the lingering tear. To press his lips to the hollow of your throat where your pulse fluttered like a trapped moth.

"You think He's abandoned you," Remmick tilts his head. The crucifix around his neck swung slightly, catching the dim red light. His voice dropped to a whisper, "But abandonment implies He was never there to begin with." He watched your pupils dilate. Fear or fascination? He couldn't tell. Both excited him.

You shivered. The air in the confessional seemed to grow colder, despite the strange warmth that had begun to spread through you.

"That's...bleak," you breathed.

The scent of you thickened in the air as he inhaled deeply, letting it gather in his dead lungs. He could hear your heartbeat stutter, the rush of blood beneath your skin.

"Truth often is," he replied. "You came here for comfort, not platitudes." His voice dropped lower. "Tell me what you really want to say."

"I want..." You swallowed, "I want to scream at Him. At them."

"At me?" He asked.

Your pulse spiked; he heard it, smelled the iron-rich rush of blood beneath your flesh. The air thickened with something darker, something that made his dead nerves sing. A strong mix of hunger and desire flooded him.

"I think I should go now..." You whispered before getting up.

Remmick watched you through the divider as you adjusted your coat, talons digging into his thighs. He could smell your fear. The creaking of wood and fabric shifting filled the silence, accompanied by your rapid heartbeat that made his fangs and cock ache. His nostrils flared as he recognized the sensation he hadn't encountered in so long: arousal. His own arousal.

He followed you outside of the booth, watching your every move before he broke the silence with a confession of his own. "They were in the way."

You paused; his words didn't make sense. An unnatural hum grew louder, a vibrating pulse as cold dread washed over you. You reluctantly turned to face him; his expression was neutral, which only made it more unsettling.

"An inconvenience. A necessary sacrifice for a greater purpose." The faint light caught his eyes, and for a moment, they seemed to shift. A faint crimson glow flickered within their depths.

You stood motionless as your mind struggled to process his words. "What are you talking about?" Your voice cracked, a desperate plea for clarity amidst the encroaching horror.

"You...you had something to do with their deaths?"

"Had somethin' to do with it?" A low, guttural chuckle rumbled in his chest, a sound that grated against your nerves. "I orchestrated it."

The world tilted. The hum became a roar in your ears, drowning out the storm that had begun outside. Your knees threatened to buckle.

"No," you breathed, shaking your head. "You're lying..."

His eyes, now undeniably glowing a faint, menacing red, swept over you. A possessive, hungry gaze that made your skin crawl. You stumbled back as he suddenly appeared in front of you.

"You're a monster."

He chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "Perhaps. Or perhaps, merely an apex predator in a world full of sheep. And you, you possess a unique vintage. A rarity." he reached out, his long fingers brushed your cheek. The touch was icy, yet it burned. "Your sorrow...your grief, it's ripened you beautifully. Made you irresistible."

You recoiled, slapping his hand away. "Don't touch me!" Your voice, though trembling, held a surprising strength. "You killed them."

"They were obstacles." His voice remained calm, almost detached, as if discussing a minor inconvenience. "They were beginnin' to ask too many questions about certain...disappearances. Certain anomalies in the perish records. They were too close to the truth."

The hum intensified, and you realized it wasn't just a sound; it was a feeling, a vibration that lingered in the very air, a low, resonant frequency that seemed to emanate from Remmick himself.

"You're insane," you whispered.

"No," he laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the stone walls. "No, I am ancient. I am powerful. I am what mortals fear and in your darkest moments, worshipped. I am a vampire."

The word hung in the air, a physical weight. Vampire. Not a story, not a legend, but a horror standing before you. The man who had preached comfort at your parents' funeral.

"And you," he continued, stepping closer, his red eyes fixed on you, "you were mine from the moment you walked into that confessional, your soul, your very essence, called to me. A vibrant, potent force. I knew then that you would be my ultimate indulgence."

Your mind raced, a frantic scramble for an escape. The doors were behind him, and the building was deadly quiet.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want?" His smile widened, revealing too many teeth, teeth that looked unnaturally long even in the dim light.

"Everything. Your fear. Your surrender." He extended a hand. "Come."

"No!" You spat the word, defiance glaring within you, momentarily overpowering your fear.

"Such fire." He laughed, a low appreciative sound. "That's what I find so captivatin'. That spirit." He lunged, a blur of dark fabric, his speed impossible.

You barely had time to react, a choked cry escaping your lips as his hand clamped around your arm, his grip like iron. The chill from his touch seeped into your bones, making your body shudder.

"Let me go!" You struggled, twisting, kicking, but he held you effortlessly. Your struggles were no more than that of a child against his strength.

"Such resistance," he purred, his face impossibly close. His breath, cold and smelling faintly of something metallic, ghosted over your skin. His eyes, now burning a scarlet, mesmerized you, drawing you into their terrifying depths.

"It's futile, your will is strong. Yes. But mine is ancient. Unbreakable." He dragged you deeper into the building that seemed to stretch. Past a table, where a single, unlit candle stood. The hum grew into an almost unbearable roar, vibrating through your entire frame, blurring your vision.

He pulled you closer, his free hand reaching for your neck. His fingers, cold and hard, brushed against the pulse throbbing at your throat. "Feel that? The life force, so vibrant, so delicious. It calls to me."

You thrashed, a desperate, primal scream tearing from your throat. "No!" You raised your knee, aiming for his groin, but he moved with impossible speed. He shifted his body, and your strike landed against his thigh.

He chuckled, a low mocking sound.

"Foolish..." He murmured, his face inches from yours. His fangs, long and needle sharp, extended, gleaming wickedly in the faint light. "Your struggles only make it more enjoyable."

He pressed his lips to your neck, his breath chilling your skin even before his fangs pierced your flesh. A searing pain, sharp and intense, lanced through you. Followed by a strange, dizzying warmth as if something was being drawn from you. You gasped, your body arched involuntarily, a choked sound escaping you.

Your vision blurred, the world around you fading to red and black as your strength ebbed. Your limbs growing heavy, useless. The hum was now a deafening roar, a symphony of terror and dark ecstasy. You felt yourself slipping, falling into an abyss of cold, dark oblivion.

No, you refused to surrender. Not after everything he's done, everything he's taken from you.

With a surge of adrenaline, you found hidden strength. Your hand, trembling but determined, reached for the small, silver rosary your grandmother had given you. Your fingers fumbled with the chain, tearing it from your neck.

Remmick, engrossed in his feast, didn't notice until it was too late. With a guttural cry, you brought the crucifix up and stabbed him in the neck.

A shriek, raw and unearthly, tore from his throat. He recoiled as if struck by lightning, releasing you instantly. Smoke curled from where the silver touched his skin. A sickening hiss filled the air, and the scent of burnt flesh wafted through the room.

His eyes widened, the crimson blazing with a mixture of shock and fury. He roared something in a foreign language, his voice distorted, monstrous. He clutched his neck, his fingers leaving trails of dark, smoking blood.

You stumbled back, gasping for breath and ignoring the pain in your neck as it throbbed and bled. The pain was intense, but the sight of his pain, his shock, fueled you. The hum in the air faltered.

Remmick's face contorted, a mask of pure rage. The wound on his neck, though smoking, began to heal. The skin knitting back together with sickening speed.

He lunged again, but this time you were ready. You dodged, slipping past him, and raced towards the table as you quickly grabbed the candle holder. It was heavy, ornate and silver.

"You think you can stop me?" Remmick stalked toward you, his movements no longer fluid, but jerky and impulsive. His anger making him less precise.

He attacked again, and you swung the object, aiming for his head. Remmick, still recovering, was momentarily caught off guard. The silver struck him with a sickening thud, impacting his temple.

A louder, more primal shriek ripped from his throat. He staggered back, his hands flying to his head. The silver burned him, not a mere superficial wound, but a deeper, more agonizing assault. Smoke billowed from the impact point, and a guttural roar of pain and fury shook the room.

"You'll pay for this!" He hissed, his form flickering as his features momentarily shifted. Revealing glimpses of something ancient and horrifying beneath the priest's facade. His jagged fangs elongated, his fingers grew into clawed talons.

You saw your chance; he was wounded, disoriented. You wouldn't waste this opportunity, and so you ran straight to your grandmother's.

The roof sagged under the weight of the storm, its windows dark despite the late hour.

The ache in his fangs mirrored the relentless throb between his thighs. A dual hunger that threatened to unravel centuries of meticulous control. His nostrils flared at the way her scent lingered in the damp air. Every hurried step she took away from him sent fresh blood rushing south, her pulse a taunting drumbeat in his ears.

Remmick listened to your choked gasp when you found the front door open, the creak of hinges as you stepped into the pitch-black foyer. His lips curled into a smirk as he circled the perimeter. No need for niceties tonight.

Inside, the scent of rosemary and death lingered in the air as your footsteps faltered near the kitchen. Your breath hitched—once, twice—before the scream tore loose. Raw and guttural.

The sound licked up his spine like a match. He could taste your anguish in the damp air.

Your grandmother's corpse slumped in the chair, fingers curled around an embroidery hoop.

Remmick had arranged her carefully. Head tilted as if asleep. Only the pooling blood betrayed the violence.

Your knees hit the floorboards as your wails dissolved into gasping sobs that made his fangs throb. How pretty you'd sound when he reduced you to those same broken noises.

Remmick stepped over the threshold, his invitation still held. He made sure of that. The floorboards groaned under his weight, intentionally announcing his arrival. You jolted upright, your tear-streaked face turning towards the source of the sound.

Your scream died in your throat when he moved, too fast for your eyes to track as he clamped one hand over your mouth.

"Shh," he breathes across your temple.

You writhed beneath him as he effortlessly pinned you. His cock twitched beneath his pants, not here.

The church loomed in his mind, candles against stained-glass, while he imagined bending you over the altar. Your nails digging into the wood as he ripped away your clothes. You moaning beneath the crucifix, his fangs buried in your throat as he took you. But the risk was too great.

His crypt would be better.

Remmick hauled you up by your throat; your choked gasp fueled his need for you.

You bucked against him, nails digging into his wrist but it didn't stop him. His thumb stroked your windpipe; he liked the way your lips parted, the frantic flutter of your lashes. His grip tightened, cutting off your air supply, and the pressure made you whimper softly. The sound traveled straight to his groin.

"Still fightin'?" Remmick purred as he traced a clawed finger down your chest, causing the buttons on your coat to rip and fall to the floor. The front of your dress ripped vertically between your breasts, exposing your bra beneath. Your breath hitched.

He smelled it: your fear, salt and slick heat from sweat.

"Father...p-please!" The honorific trembled on your lips.

His cock throbbed at the irony as he tightened his grip, watching your face flush with exquisite slowness. Your pupils blew wide. Veins stood out on your temples. A strangled gasp escaped before your jaw slackened, eyes fluttering shut as consciousness slipped away.

He caught your limp body against his chest, inhaling the sweaty desperation clinging to you. Your pulse fluttered, weak but steady, against his palm. Perfect. Remmick slung you over his shoulder, your head lolling against his back. He kicked open the front door as the rain poured heavily. Lightning flashed, illuminating the trail to the crypt.

Remmick adjusted his grip, fingers splaying over the curve of your ass. The lace of your underwear had ridden up. He could feel the dampness between your thighs. Not just sweat. The realization made his cock throb. You were wet before he choked you unconscious.

His footsteps were silent as he crossed the abandoned graveyard. Broken headstones jolted from the earth like broken teeth. The crypt gate groaned on rusted hinges; the stench of mildew and stagnant air was heavy. He kicked the gate shut as he descended the stone stairs, plunging you into near-darkness.

He laid you down on the marble slab after thoroughly scrubbing the dirt away. He admired your limp body, fingers tracing the faint bruises on your throat. Remmick quickly lit all of the candles, savoring the scent that mixed with yours. Even unconscious, your body betrayed you.

The candlelight caught the perspiration along your collarbone, the way your nipples peaked beneath the thin fabric. His thumb lightly pressed the pulse point beneath your jaw, slow now but strong. He could wait. Centuries had taught him patience.

You stirred awake with a soft whimper, fingers twitching against the cold stone. Remmick leaned in, "Shhh," he whispered.

Your breath hitched, consciousness returning, I ragged waved. He watches your lashes flutter, the exact moment terror floods back into your limbs. You tensed, but his hands pinned your wrist before you could thrash.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Your pupils dilated, the candlelight catching the panic in your gaze.

"You smell like sin," he murmured against your jaw. The lace of your bra tore under his claws, the sound amplified in the small space. He joined you on the marble slab, placing a knee between your legs.

You gasped softly as his fingers traced the swell of your breast. Your hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against his thigh. The faint wet heat from your underwear betrayed you.

His laughter ghosted across your chest. "Even now, you can't lie to me." His fangs grazed your pulse point. Not biting, not yet. Just savoring the frantic drumbeat beneath skin.

Your pulse spiked as he tore what was left of your dress away from your trembling form. The cold marble leached the heat from your bare skin, but the heat between your legs grew hotter.

Remmick's fingers traced the soaked lace clinging to you, a mocking imitation of tenderness. "Look at you," he whispered, dragging a finger along the seam. "Drippin' for a monster."

You tried to move away, your hips jerking, only to be hauled back by his grip on your thighs. Thunder rattled the crypt's iron gate. His thumb pressed slow circles against you through the fabric, each rotation sending sparks up your spine. His other hand pinned your wrist above your head, fingers interlaced with yours in a mock of intimacy.

He released your wrist to roll you over onto your stomach. Before you could move his hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine arched. Remmick's free hand slid between your legs from behind, pushing your underwear aside and thrusting two fingers inside without warning.

Your scream morphed into a ragged moan when he curled them just right, the pads of his fingers grazing your inner walls. The wet sounds of your arousal filled the crypt, mingling with your ragged breathing. Every thrust dragged another sound from you. You could feel his hardened length against your thigh, a promise of something yet to come.

"You're tremblin'," Remmick's fingers circled deeper inside, drawing a choked whine from you.

"Do you know how long it's been?" His lips traced the shell of your ear possessively. "Centuries since I've wanted to ruin something this thoroughly."

You gritted your teeth, your body arching as pleasure coiled tight in your gut; you hated him. Hated the way your hips rolled against his hand, the slick sounds of your own body's betrayal echoing. You could feel him smirk against your skin, the press of his fangs a silent threat just beneath the surface.

"You'll cum for me," he said confidently. His voice was dark with promise. "And then you'll scream when I take you proper." His free hand slid up your spine, between your shoulder blades, as he pinned you harder against the marble table.

You choked back a moan as his rhythm grew ruthless, deep, deliberate strokes that dragged along your inner walls in a way that made your toes curl.

"You're close," he states in a smug tone as his thumb circled your clit. "I can smell it."

Your hips lifted involuntarily as you attempted to drag yourself away, raising your hips so your ass was in the air. An obscene invitation that only made Remmick growl low in his throat.

His free hand dug into the flesh of your hips to pull you back against him. "No escapin' now," he purred. His breath chilling the sweat-slick dip of your lower back.

The sight of you spread open before him, trembling with reluctant pleasure, unraveled the last threads of his restraint. Small scarlet streaks smeared across your inner thighs, proof of how roughly he's taken you.

Remmick flipped you onto your back in one fluid motion, his grip bruising as he pinned your wrists above your head.

Your thighs shivered as he wedged himself between them. You could feel the rigid outline of his cock pressing against you, inhumanly large even through layers of fabric. His free hand traced down your ribs, claws leaving faint marks.

"Look at me," Remmick commanded, voice thick with centuries of hunger. When you clenched your eyes shut, he sank his fangs into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Not deep enough to feed, just enough to make sure you felt it.

Your eyelids flew open, meeting his hungry gaze.

"Good girl," he praised against the wound, lapping at the twin punctures with a tongue that felt too long.

"Now," he murmured, dragging the swollen head through your slick folds, "let's hear you beg properly."

His fingers tangled in your hair again, yanking your head back to expose the frantic flutter of your pulse. Thunder cracked overhead as he notched himself at your entrance. Your breath seized when he pressed in, the stretch unbearable despite your body's traitorous wetness. Every inch burned as he muffled your scream with a rough kiss.

You tasted salt, tears, blood, the storm's electricity clinging to his lips. Remmick groaned into the kiss, his tongue mapping the roof of your mouth as he slid deeper. The pain created sharply, your muscles clenching around him in instinctive protest.

But then a spark of pleasure so acute it wrenched a sob from your throat. His hips stilled experimentally, dragging his cock along a hidden ridge inside you that made your back arch violently. Your teeth sank into your lower lip, drawing blood that flooded your mouth.

Remmick paused, nostrils flaring at the iron-rich scent. His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back. "Swallow it," he ordered, watching your throat convulse as you obeyed.

The sight sent a rash wave of heat through his groin—your submission, however reluctant, tightened his balls against his thighs. He withdrew agonizingly slow, savoring the way your inner walls fluttered around him, before thrusting back in hard enough to make your hips jerk off the marble slab.

Your scream dissolved into a ragged moan as he set a brutal pace, each snap of his hips grinding you against the unforgiving marble. Your thighs trembled violently—betraying you—as pleasure coiled tighter with every thrust.

"You're takin' me so well, lil' lamb." Remmick purred against your throat, his fangs grazing the tender skin where your pulse raced. His tongue lapped at the sweat beading along your collarbone, savoring the salt of you.

"Tell me, do you still pray? Beg your God for mercy while I ruin you?" He punctuated the question with a sharp snap of his hips that forced a broken sob from your lips.

Your head thrashed side to side as if you could shake loose from the pleasure growing low in your gut. "F-fuck you," you gasped, the curse turned into a whimper when he angled his thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that made your vision blur.

Remmick chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening around your throat just enough to make you gasp. "Language, mo ghrá," he scolded playfully into your ear, his brogue thickening with desire. "Such sweet blasphemy from a lamb who wept in my confessional." His hips rolled in a cruel, slow circle, grinding his cock against the sweet spot inside you until your body quivered.

"You're lyin' to yourself," he continued as his free hand traced the frantic flutter of your pulse. "I can taste it, the way your body sings for me." A sharp thrust punctuated his words, forcing a ragged moan from you.

"Look at you," he growled, "soaked and shakin'. Did you fantasize about this when you knelt for me?" His dark laughter echoed around you. "Confess. Tell me how often you touched yourself imaginin' my hands on you."

His hand moved between your legs, finding your clit swollen and throbbing. "I've n-never..." The confession tore from you barely audible over the slick sounds of your bodies joining.

Remmick stilled abruptly, his cock buried to the hilt inside. His exhale gusted against your damp temple. "Never?" The word curled between you both, heavy with implication. Centuries of preying on the experienced had dulled his memory of true innocence. The realization sent a familiar thrill through his dead veins.

His hips rolled once while he watched your face contort as he dragged his full length against untested flesh. Your breath hitched, nails digging into his forearms. The scent of your blood, mixed with the musk of your reluctant arousal, floods his senses. His cock swelled impossibly further, the veins in his length pulsing.

"Christ," he hissed through clenched fangs. "You're mine now. Only mine."

A growl vibrated deep in his chest as he withdrew to the tip, enjoying the way your walls fluttered in protest. Your soft whimpers morphed into a choked gasp when he slammed back in. Every thrust now carried the weight of centuries.

His possessiveness manifested in brutal snaps of his pelvis that left you breathless. "You've always belonged here. Between sacrilege and sacrament."

"You're close," Remmick muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. You could feel his smirk against your skin as his thumb circled faster. "I wanna taste it. That moment when your body forgets to hate me."

He laughed when your thighs clenched around him involuntarily. "There it is," he groaned, thumb rubbing your clit just as he angled his hips to grind deeper.

The dual sensation tore a broken moan from your throat. Half-protest, half-pleasure, that echoed off the crypt's walls.

"Cum for me. Let me feel how tight you get when you fall apart."

Your spine arched violently off the marble slab as your climax ripped through you. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure that burned away thought. Every muscle locked as your vision tunneled to pinpricks of candlelight. Your cunt clamped around him with such force that he groaned through clenched fangs. The scent of you flooded his senses, sweat and sex.

You came silently at first, mouth gaping around a soundless scream before your throat convulsed. The cry that finally tore from you was ragged, broken sobs of half-terror and half-surrender as your hips stuttered against him.

He watched, enraptured, as tears spilled from your wide eyes to mingle with the blood smeared across your cheek. Your body moved without your permission, thighs trembling as aftershocks wracked you.

Remmick didn't slow—wouldn't—his thrusts turning brutal now that you'd broken. The obscene, slick sounds of your bodies colliding filled the crypt as he chased his own release. Your over-sensitized flesh dragged ragged whimpers from your throat with every snap of his hips.

"Ah, Christ—" his snarl cut off as his rhythm faltered, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled centuries of pent-up hunger into your trembling body.

His fangs sank into your throat at last, not to kill, but deep enough to make you scream again. The dual violation of being filled and drained simultaneously wrenches another shuddering climax from your exhausted frame.

Your vision blurred a his fangs sank deeper, a searing heat that radiated outward from the bite marks in sync with the slowing pumps of his hips.

His groan reverberated through your bones as he lapped sluggishly at the wound, his tongue catching the blood that seeped down your collarbone. His cock twitched inside you, still half-hard despite his release, the sensation making your oversensitive nerves scream.

Rainwater dropped through the crypt's gate, the cold droplets striking your splayed fingers were a stark contrast to the heat pooling between your legs where he remained buried deep.

His lips traced the shell of your ear as he spoke, the words vibrating through you. "You'll remember this every time you kneel in my church." A claw-tipped finger dragged through the mess on your thighs. A mix of blood and cum. "Every time you take communion."

You turned your head away as escape scenarios flickered behind your fluttering eyelids. Waiting until dawn when he'd be at his weakest, running barefoot through the woods.

Outside, the storm crescendoed as his grip on your hair tightened, forcing your focus back on him as he slowly withdrew. His seed trickled down your thigh.

"Such pretty noises you make," he mused.

"Why me?" You sobbed softly. Was there a reason all of this was happening?

He brushed a finger over your lower lip, admiring the bruising that was forming there. "I planned to kill you originally, as I did your parents. But I smelled it in you the first time you entered the church. Somethin' I haven't tasted in centuries..."

"What?" You whispered, voice raw from screaming.

His nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of your confusion, your terror, and beneath it something darker. "Faith," he answered. "Not the performative piety of my flock, but the kind that burns." He chuckled as his fingers continued exploring your body. "I smelled it in you that first Mass, your prayers weren't rote. You meant them."

Remmick's claws traced your hipbone where bruises were already blooming. "I'm gonna keep you," he whispered as his thumb pressed against your clit. Making your body jerk suddenly against the marble. "This cunt," he murmured as you whimpered, "this throat," his fingers pressed down against your windpipe, "these pretty tears—all mine now."

Your breath came in shaking gasps as he slid off the slab, his feet soundless on the stone floor. The candlelight cast his elongated shadow across the crypt walls. He turned toward the stairs leading up to the gate, where rainwater pooled in the corners.

You could feel the mess between your legs as it leaked into to marble slab beneath you. Your mind drifts as you watch the water drip, until he speaks again.

"You think I'd let something this precious rot?" he asked, "centuries of fake devotion," he muttered softly against your knee, "and you arrive weepin'."

Reality set in as the gravity of your situation settled. You were his forever. You hated him, you hated God. If there was one. You were beginning to doubt the beliefs your parents drilled into you since childhood.

Your body registered the cold air against your ravaged skin, your mind adrift in a numb haze, until his fingers dug into your jaw. He forced you to meet his gaze.

With a sharp glare, you collected the strength to smack his hand away, consequences be damned.

Remmick's eyebrows arched, the candlelight catching the amusement in his cold eyes as he slowly flexed his fingers. "Ah, there's that fire again," he said, more to himself.

His palm cracked across your cheek before you could blink. The force snapped your head sideways hard enough to make your vision swim. A soft, pained cry escaped you, and that was the only noise you made.

You were determined not to give him any satisfaction in your reactions. The force of his slap was so strong that you tasted blood from your cheek where your teeth must have cut into the skin. The surface of your cheek was warm as you glared at the wall.

Remmick's lips curled in silent approval of the defiance etched into your trembling posture. The way your spine stiffened despite the bruises across your body. How your split lip still curled in something too sharp to be fear.

He caught your chin, tilted your face toward the flickering candlelight to examine the damage. "Lovely."

You struggled free of his grasp, not that he was actually trying, and moved to sit in the corner of the room.

He admired the way you curled into yourself, like a wounded animal trying to lick its wounds in private. Yet your eyes still burned with defiance. He knelt before you, already dressed.

You buried your face against your knees, blocking out the sight of him, the heat of him. Though you couldn't escape the scent of sex and blood that still clung to your skin. His shadow loomed closer, blocking out the light, but you refused to look up.

His fingers weaved through your hair, gentle at first, before rigging suddenly, tilting your head back. "You'll pray..." He paused as he admired your look of hatred. "When your body remembers the shape of my cock. When your thighs shake just passin' the confessional." His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, smearing the blood, "you'll beg for me as you begged for God."

"I'm never stepping foot into that church again." The thought alone made your stomach twist.

Remmick chuckled, sliding his fingers along your scalp in a mockery of comfort. "Oh, lamb." He smirked as he pressed his lips to your cheek. "You won't have a choice." His hand drifted lower, tracing the fresh bruises along your ribs.

"Dawn's less than an hour away. You'll walk back to your grandmother's house smellin' of me, and tomorrow evenin' you'll return to Mass." His teeth scraped your earlobe. "Because you'll crave this corruption more than the absolution."

"I'd rather die..." You whispered.

Something he said caught your attention. Is he going to let you walk back to your grandmother's? Hopefully, by then the sun would be out, and you could take that time to escape. Run and never look back. And then what? Pretend that none of this happened? Try to live a normal life knowing creatures like him exist?

His fingers tightened in your hair, wrenching your thoughts back to the present. There was a feral smile on his face; the expression was unnerving. It was almost like he knew something you didn't.

"You'll leave at first light, but not without my mark."

His mark?

His fingers slid between your legs, pressed against the tender flesh still swollen from the violation. You recoiled, but the wall stopped you as cold stone bit into your spine. His smirk grew as he drew his fingers away, then pressed them to the hollow of your throat.

"Blood and seed," he explained, then smeared the mess across your collarbones in a crude parody of anointing oil. "My signature." His finger traced the sticky trail lower, circling your nipple until it hardened. "Run if you like," he taunted, pinching the bud sharply. "Every person you pass will cross themselves. And when dusk comes..."

Your breath hitched as his other hand suddenly gripped your knee, forcing your legs apart with terrifying ease. The cold stone chilled your exposed skin, but it was the look in his eyes, calculating and triumphant, that made your stomach drop.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "You'll find yourself kneelin' at my altar, waitin' for my cock."

The light of day was slowly approaching.

He expected you to walk back with no clothes? What if someone saw?

Remmick smirked as he way he'd you glance at the torn remnants of your clothes, your fingers twitching with the futile urge to cover yourself. "Worried about modesty?" He chuckled darkly.

With a flick of his wrist, he tore a strip from his ruined cassock and pressed it into your palm. The fabric was still damp with rainwater and your blood.

"Wrap yourself in this. Consider it a favor."

You scoffed softly and reluctantly took the torn cloth, which wasn't much to work with. At this point, you were better off walking home as is.

Remmick watched in amusement, clearly enjoying your internal struggle as pride warred with practicality. The first hint of dawn painted the crypt's entrance in gold, and you realized with a jolt that this was your chance.

You shot up to your feet, ignoring the stinging ache between your thighs and bolted for the exit. The sun bathed your battered skin as your eyes adjusted to the light.

Behind you, he laughed softly. "Run, lil' lamb." His voice slithered after you like smoke. "The chase only makes the feast sweeter."

You ran up the stone steps and fell onto your hands and knees just as you reached the top. The faint sound of his laughter could be heard as he watched from the shadows. The sun was rising, and so was your hope. But you had no idea where you were, or how to get back to your grandmother's.

Your legs tremble as you stumble forward, your bare feet. The crypt loomed behind you as you clutched the torn strip of fabric Remmick had given you. I did little to shield you from the morning chill or the eyes you imagined lurking in every shadow.

You cried as you ran, trying to navigate the unfamiliar landscape. Despite your exhaustion, you ran in the direction that felt promising.

The scent of damp earth and morning dew clung to your skin as you staggered through the woods, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Every crunch or snap of twigs beneath your feet sent panic through your chest. Was that your own footsteps, or something following?

The crypt had long vanished behind the tree line, but the absence brought no comfort. Only the growing certainty that Remmick had let you run for a reason.

Your grandmother's house emerged like a fever dream. The front door was ajar, swaying gently on its hinges. Your knees buckled as you crossed the threshold. You immediately noticed your grandmother's body was gone.

Was Remmick responsible for this? You pushed the thought from your mind as the smell of him and sex filled your nose. You needed to wash away the filth he left behind.

The water scolded your skin as you scrubbed with a loofah, causing the bite marks to bleed again. Steam curled around you as you sank to a crouched position to cry again. Mourning your parents and grandmother. The life you had, the life Remmick had tainted.

You didn't bother packing and quickly dressed, a loose-fitting sweatshirt and sweatpants. After grabbing some cash, you put on socks and shoes before peeking outside the front door. As if you expected to see him waiting for you, but he wasn't there. The sun was his weakness. With a ragged breath, you stepped outside and headed for the Bus Stop. The same way you had arrived.

Your body ached with each step, the pain making you feel nauseous as you moved quickly through the trees, avoiding the main road, just in case. You reached the bus stop and waited. Luckily, the wait wasn't long. When the bus arrived, you climbed aboard, avoiding eye contact with the driver as you took a seat in the very back.

You lay down on the seat, curled up as the vibrations from the bus pulled you to sleep. You weren't sure how long you'd been asleep for as your eyes slowly flickered open. Panic immediately set in when you noticed the sun had begun setting.

The bus continued as the driver announced the last stop was coming up. The sunset was like a constant reminder as it reflected off the windows. When the bus finally halted, you stepped off, your legs still sore from running. Nearby, there was a train station, and with the money you had, you purchased a ticket, not caring where you were going.

The ride was long, but you didn't dare sleep again. You couldn't risk waking up to darkness, to him. By the time you reached the city, you were completely exhausted. You found a cheap motel near the train station, paying in cash with a fake name. The room smelled of mildew and cigarettes, but the lock on the door was sturdy. You shoved a chair underneath the knob for good measure, knowing deep down that the lock wouldn't stop him.

You collapsed onto the stiff mattress, your body screaming in protest. The bite marks and bruises throbbed. You pressed a damp cloth to them, willing them to stop aching. But the deeper wounds weren't physical. Every time you blinked, you saw his smirk in the dark. Every exhale tasted like crypt dust and him.

Your stomach growled, you hadn't eaten in... You couldn't remember how long it's been. Ignoring the pain, you got up and opened the mini fridge, hoping to find something. Anything to eat.

Empty. Not even a bottle of water inside.

Luckily, you had money left, maybe you could go outside for food. Was it worth the risk? Your stomach growled again, like it was urging you to hurry up and make a decision.

A few blocks away sat a diner, still open. The bell above the door chimed as you entered, the scent of coffee and food wrapped around you like an unexpected hug. You sat at the booth in the far back, ignoring the stares staff and other customers gave you.

Eventually, your coffee arrived first, bitter and scalding, but you gulped it down, letting the heat anchor you. Soon after your order of eggs and bacon arrived. The first bite made you realize how starved you had been, though every swallow felt like swallowing glass due to the soreness of your throat.

One of the waitresses had asked if you were okay or if you needed help. Did they notice the marks? The fear in your eyes? Or how you finished your food in a matter of minutes. You lied and said you were fine, but that was far from the truth. A part of you was screaming internally for help but you couldn't risk getting innocent people involved. You had just lost your family, and couldn't help but blame yourself.

You left a tip before heading for the motel. The key turned stiffly in the lock. Inside, the room was exactly as you had left it, aside from the chair you were using on the door. Relief pooled in your chest as you climbed back on the bed, lying on your side as you faced the door.

The scent of iron clung to your skin, making you feel sick. Or was that smell coming from somewhere else? Your gaze drifted to the bathroom door, slightly ajar. The shadows inside seemed darker than before. You covered your mouth to stifle a gasp when the faucet dripped.

The metallic scent thickened, copper and rainwater and him. Your body ached as you inched backwards, the bedsprings groaning as you shifted. You grabbed the ceramic lamp, turning it on as you sat with your back against the headboard while your eyes scanned the room.

Your fingers curled tighter around the lamp as the dripping was replaced with silence. The first drops of rain pattered against the window. Then came the whisper, so soft you almost didn't hear it.

"Lil' lamb."

Your breath froze in your chest; the sound hadn't come from outside. It came from inside, from the bathroom and was accompanied by a familiar smell of wet earth and blood, just as the door creaked open another inch. No footsteps. Just the slow, slick sound of something dragging across the floor.

Your fingers trembled around the lamp as you accidentally tore the cord free from the outlet and hurled it at the door. The ceramic shattered, light bulb exploding in a burst of sparks, but the darkness swallowed the noise whole. By the time you realized throwing the lamp was a mistake, it was already too late. The only source of light was the neon sign outside.

The darkness was absolute, and the scent of damp soil and iron grew thicker as the bathroom door swung fully open. No footsteps, just the whisper of fabric brushing tile. Every hair on your body stood upright as the temperature plummeted.

Your instinct screamed 'run', and you bolted for the door. Moving the chair out of the way of the front door and undoing the locking mechanism. Your hands trembled as you struggled with each task.

The scent of damn earth intensified right behind you, but you didn't dare turn around. The chair clattered to the floor just as the cold fingers grazed the nape of your neck. You screamed, wrenching the door open, and collided face-first into a solid chest.

"Miss?" A bewildered security guard gripped your shoulders. "You okay? Heard glass breaking—"

His grip on your shoulders was too tight, or maybe it was because your body was so sore. "I think there's someone in the bathroom." You stammered as your heart hammered in your chest. The guard carefully walked inside as you stood outside, watching with bated breath.

The scent of iron was thick as you watched him disappear into the dark bathroom, flicking the light switch on and off.

"Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and there's no one here."

Your embarrassment was strong as your gaze dropped to your feet, muttering an apology for the trouble and the broken lamp. You watched as he stepped back outside, he hesitated, and you noticed his eyes lingering on your neck.

He leaned closer, "Miss, are you—"

You slam the door in his face. The deadbolt clicked seconds before the bathroom faucet turned on full-blast behind you. Water hitting porcelain. The stench of wet earth and blood lingered in the air. You ran to shut off the water, crying from the overwhelming emotions and exhaustion.

The faucet handle snapped off in your grip as rust-colored liquid surged over the sink's edge. Splattering your clothes as you stumbled back, your bare foot landed in something viscous. Not water, not anymore. The puddle darkened, then just as Remmick suddenly appeared, you jolted awake. Sitting up, drenched in sweat as you panted heavily. You were still in bed, the lamp was on the table, turned on, and the clock read 4am. It was only a dream.

You sighed in relief, but the smell of damp earth and him still lingered in the air. Your hands trembled as you wiped the sweat from your brow. The bite mark throbbed, a painful reminder that some nightmares were real.

The dream weighed heavily on your mind as you pulled the thin blanket up to your chin. You stared at the ceiling, counting the water stains like constellations. Anything to keep your thoughts from spiraling back into terror.

Dawn's light slowly flooded through the windows and into your room, bathing you in warmth. You rolled onto your side, facing the door as your eyes fluttered closed. Then you woke, your gaze immediately drifted to the window where you noticed the sun had begun to set.

How? You had only lain down for a moment, hadn't you? The neon sign outside flickered on, casting the room in a pink hue as shadows stretched unnaturally across the floor. Your fingers curled into the sheets as you rolled onto your back. A sudden metallic taste sharpened in your mouth, copper and familiar as you stared at the ceiling.

The chair suddenly slid from beneath the doorknob and fell over as the door creaked open. Cold air rushed in, carrying the familiar scent of him. Your breath hitched.

Remmick's silhouette filled the door frame, not quite touching the floor as he crossed the threshold, letting himself inside. Moonlight caught the edge of his smile, glinting off an elongated fang. You didn't move; you lay there. Afraid, but no energy left to fight back. He closed and locked the door behind him.

Each step was measured as he slowly approached you.

"You're quieter than usual," he mused, tilting his head. "Disappointin'."

You clenched your jaw, your pulse fluttering visibly at your throat. The mattress dipped as he perched beside you. His fingers brushed your collarbone, tracing the marks with satisfaction.

"You left without saying goodbye," he murmured, leaning in close enough for his breath to stir your hair. "Rude."

Rude? You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you remained silent. He wasn't worth the breath or effort. Your fate was sealed; no matter where you went, he would find you.

"Still playin' at defiance, are we?"

With one hand, he slipped beneath the blanket, fingers teasing the hem of your sweatshirt. His fingers moved higher, grazing lightly over your ribs. The anticipation alone made your muscles lock as pain and unwanted pleasure curled tight in your gut. A soft whimper escaped before you could stop it.

"Ah," he breathed, triumphant. His lips grazed the shell of your ear. "There she is."

You shut your eyes, but it only heightened the sensation as his fingers mapped your ribs like a blind man memorizing scripture. The scent of him filled your lungs.

"Look at me," he whispered, but you kept your eyes shut. Even as his nails bit into your skin while his other hand wrapped around your throat. "Or shall I make you?"

Your eyes opened as you reluctantly met his gaze. Remmick's smile widened, predatory satisfaction gleaming in his ageless eyes. "Better." His fingers tightened around your throat—not choking, just the threat of it, the promise.

In the blink of an eye, he had removed the blanket and your clothes, exposing the bruises along your body as he admired his handiwork, his claim.

The cold air hit your skin, nipples hardening against your will. His gaze darkened, pupils swallowing the irises. "Still respondin' so prettily," he whispered. "Even now."

You flinched but didn't pull away, you knew better. His tongue flicked out to catch a droplet of blood from the claw as it dragged down your sternum. The groan that rumbled from his chest vibrated through your body.

"Every drop," he paused against your skin, "sacrament." His hand slid between your thighs, fingertips pressing through the fabric of your underwear. Already damp. He chuckled, dark and knowing as you tensed.

You turned your face away, but Remmick caught your chin, forcing your gaze back to him. The hunger there made your stomach plummet.

"See what you do to me?" He guided your hand downward, pressing your palm against the ridged outline of his cock straining against his pants. Hot. Insistent. "Centuries of control," he hissed, rocking into your touch, "undone by your pulse."

Your breath caught, the sound wasn't audible to your ears, but he caught it. The heat of it pulsed against your palm. His hips shifted closer, an involuntary movement that only fueled his frustration and desire in equal measure.

"Look at me," he repeated, pressing his forehead against yours.

You blinked up at him, exhaustion hollowed out your defiance. His grip on your wrist tightened, guiding your fingers to undo his belt.

"You'll learn to enjoy it," he whispered.

Your fingers trembled against the button of his pants. Despite your trembling hand, you managed to undo the button of his pants. Then your hands paused. Almost as if you were waiting for direction.

He guided your hand lower, hissing as your fingertips brushed the hot length of him through fabric. "Touch me," he commanded. "Like you mean it." Remmick quickly pulled down his pants, his cock springing free.

Touch him. That's something you've never done. You could sense his growing frustration as he wrapped your hand around the thick shaft. Its size was intimidating as it twitched in your grasp. The heady scent of his arousal filled your nose.

Remmick's breath hitched, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist as you began to move your hand. Every inch you slid up, his hips jerked forward, pressing into your grip. "Yes," he hissed, "like that."

Your fingers tightened instinctively, warning a shuddering groan from him. His free hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to sting. His eyes were black with hunger as your hand stroked him slightly faster while your body reacted to every sound he made.

Precum beaded at his tip, the scent was musky and earthy. His hips moved in time with your strokes, driving deeper into your fist while his grip on your hair became painful.

"Slow down," he rasped, but his body betrayed him, thrusting harder. "I want—" The sentence fractured into a groan as you twisted your wrist slightly, just enough to make his thighs tremble.

You ignored his words and continued stroking him. Your eyes watched the bead of precum leak down onto your hand.

Remmick growled, a sound more animal than man as his hips stuttered against your grip. His fingers dug into your scalp, forcing your head back against the mattress. "Defiant even now," he hissed. But his cock throbbed in your hand, betraying how much your resistance thrilled him.

His cock pulsed in your hand; you could barely wrap your hand around it. Again, you ignored him. He suddenly straddled your chest, both legs bracketing your body. Another bead of precum leaked from the tip.

"You're not listenin'," his voice was dangerously low, silky with promised violence.

Your hand slowed down to a languid pace as you averted your gaze to avoid his intimidating one. His grip in your hair loosened as he sat back on his heels.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You're stubborn," he mused, voice dripping with dark amusement. "But I like that."

You continue to avoid his case as you stroke him slowly. His thumb brushed your lower lip, tracing the seam until they parted.

His smirk widened as he pressed the head of his cock against your lips. "Open," he murmured.

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth, and he didn't hesitate to press his hips forward; the broad head of his cock pressed against your tongue. The taste, salt and iron, flooded your senses as he groaned.

"Wider," he orders in a rough voice. You obeyed, your jaw aching as he pushed deeper, the velvet heat of him stretching your mouth.

Remmick's thighs trembled against your body, his breath vomiting sharp, ragged bursts. The neon light outside flickered, casting his face in fractured shadows. Even half-lidded, gangs glinted as his hips rocked slowly, savoring the wet heat of your mouth. The way your throat fluttered around him.

You gagged as he pushed past the resistance of your throat; your head instinctively tried to pull away, but you had nowhere to go.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening just slightly in warning. "Swallow," he ordered, as if it were the easiest task in the world.

You gagged again, your throat convulsing violently as the thick intrusion pressed deeper. Your hands gripped his thighs, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his pants. He tilted his hips, angling himself deeper, until your nose brushed the wiry curls at his base. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you struggled to breathe.

Remmick sighed, fingers loosening just enough to stroke your damp hair. "There," he said softly. "Isn't this better?" His hips rolled once, shallowly, dragging a choked whimper from you. The sound seemed to vibrate through him, his cock twitching against the tight clutch of your throat.

Outside, the neon sign died, plunging everything into darkness. He pulled back slowly, savoring the slick drag of your tongue along the underside before thrusting back in with a snap of his hips, your cry muffled by flesh.

He groaned, both hands holding your head in place as he fucked into your throat with slow, relentless strokes. Each thrust drew another tear, another shudder, your body resisting even as your throat accepted him greedily.

His breath hitched when he left you swallow around him, purposeful this time. "Good girl," he purred as his thumb brushed away a tear. "You'll learn quickly," he pulled back until the tip remained between your lips, watching the string of saliva that connected you before sliding home again.

Your fingers dug harder into his thighs, lungs burning, but you no longer fought. Your body arched slightly, Throat working around him as if trained by instinct alone.

Remmick's groan vibrated through your skull. "Christ, your mouth," he hissed as his hips jerked erratically. "Like you were made for this."

His thrusts lost rhythm, turning brutal in their urgency. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your choked gasps when he allowed you to breathe. One hand left your hair to wrap around your throat so he could feel himself moving inside you.

"Fuck...a-almost," he gritted out, his voice raw. His hips stuttered as his cock swelled against your tongue. You knew what was coming. The realization sent panic down your spine. You tightly gripped his thighs to brace yourself.

A ragged, broken moan escaped him, the he came. Hot and thick, flooding your mouth with the copper tang of him. You gagged, but he held you firmly in place, forcing you to swallow every pulse. His groan echoed through the small room, dripping with satisfaction before he finally allowed you to pull away.

His grip on your throat vanished as your head fell back on the bed. You lay there panting heavily in between coughs as the scent of him clung to your breath. His release trailed down your chin, mixing with your saliva.

Remmick exhaled sharply, admiring the mess he's made of you. Lips swollen, tears drying on your cheeks as his cum lingered on your skin. He traced a fingertip along your jawline, collecting what had escaped your mouth and bringing it to his lips.

Despite him having just cum his semi-hard cock twitched against his thigh, never going soft, while not fully hard. Your tongue darted out instinctively to clean the mess from your lips, only to freeze when you tasted him again. Metallic and oddly herbal.

He watched the realization flicker across your face; his chuckle was a low rumble. "You'll crave it soon," he promised, pressing his damp finger between your parted lips. "The hunger is already in you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words, not understanding what he meant. The mattress dipped again as he shifted his weight, his knee pressing between your thighs. You tensed as his fingers traced idle patterns along your inner thigh, avoiding the soaked fabric of your panties with cruel precision.

The neon sign outside came back to life as you stared at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the heat pooling low in your belly. His finger crept higher, slow and taunting, until his knuckle brushed the damp cotton.

Remmick inhaled sharply through his nose, "still wet," he purred as he dragged his fingertips along the seam. Your thighs clenched instinctively, trapping his hand. His chuckle vibrated against your throat. "Even after all this."

A deep blush spreads across your face as he lightly tugs your panties, pulling them away before letting them snap back into place. Smiling when you jolt while he admires the way the fabric clings to your cunt like a second skin.

Your breath hitched when he pressed his palm against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles that made you shiver. His lips graze your earlobe.

"You think you hate this." He whispers, fingers slipping beneath the waistband, "but your body knows."

The first brush of his fingertips against bare skin makes you gasp, hips bucking into his touch before you can stop them. He exhales, triumphant, as his middle finger slides through your slick folds.

"There it is," he coons. "That sweet shameless pulse."

You bite your lip to suppress any noises, but your traitorous body arched into his hand. His fingers circle your clit with cruel precision, once, twice, before dipping lower to press bluntly at your entrance. He stops there, teasing, letting you feel the threat of penetration without granting it.

His fingertip barely breaches you, just enough to make your inner muscles clench around nothing before withdrawing.

Your breath comes in short, sharp bursts, your thighs tremble with the effort to stay still. The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable as your body coiled tight with denied release. You hated the way your hips lifted involuntarily, chasing his retreating touch. It was humiliating.

Remmick withdrew his hand completely before bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan. Suddenly, he tears your underwear from your body, tossing them aside. The cold air on your exposed skin makes you shudder as he spreads your thighs.

His cock, still glistening from your mouth, brushes against your inner thigh. Hard again. The thick head nudges at your entrance, and your body betrays you with a pulse of wet heat around nothing. Remmick groans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he rocks forward. Just enough to stretch you, but not enough to breach.

Your body shudders uncontrollably, and he chuckled at your reaction as his cock twitched against your slick entrance. The neon sign outside flickered erratically, casting his predatory grin in jagged light.

"Already clenchin' 'round nothin'," he mused.

"You knew I was here the whole time?" The question left you before you could stop it.

"Every moment," he muttered. "The bus seat you chose, the train, every paranoid glance. I let you run."

"Do I have to go back?" Truthfully, you'd rather go anywhere else but there. That town held too many memories.

"Run if you'd like, but you'll always find me waitin' when the light dies." He pressed two fingers hard against your clit. "And you will go back," he continued, circling torturously slow, "because I've buried things in that soil you'll dig for with your own hands."

"P-please, don't make me go back. I'll go anywhere else with you... Please..." You pleases softly, hiding back tears that threatened to spill.

Remmick paused his teasing, lifting his head to study your face with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "Tell me why." His voice was deceptively soft, like a priest coaxing confession, not a predator circling prey.

"I don't want reminders of...them." You muttered honestly, referring to your parents and grandmother.

His thumb pressed against your clit as his lips curved at your unintended honesty. "Ah," he breathed as his thumb slid lower. Dragging through slick heat before pressing at your entrance. "But darlin'—" A shallow thrust, just enough to stretch you, "—you'll dig them up anyway."

Had you heard him correctly? Dig them up? Why would he want you to do that? You gasped softly as his finger barely slipped inside. "No," you sobbed. "Please..."

"My gifts under their ribs," he explained as he pressed deeper before circling the digit upward. Remmick withdrew, then brought it to his mouth to lick it clean. "You'll dig 'cause you'll need to know." He slid in two fingers this time, slowly pumping them before he continued, "Every inch of you protests and yet your cunt weeps for it."

The motel phone rang, Remmick stilled mid-thrust, fingers still buried as you both turned towards the sound. It rang again as his fingers twisted deeper inside, his smirk widened at your involuntary clench around his knuckles.

"Answer it," he breathed against your throat.

"N-no...you're insane if you think—"

His fingers curled inside you, drawing a muffled cry from your lips as his free hand reached for the phone. The plastic creaked as he pressed it to your ear. Your ragged breath was already audible to whoever waited on the line.

"Say hello."

"H-hello," you whispered softly as you tried to ignore his fingers that continued teasing you.

"Oh, thank God! I've been trying to reach you all day!" Your grandmother's voice cracked through the line. His fingernails scraped your inner walls, causing another traitorous squeeze around his fingers.

Your stomach dropped at the sound of her voice. It shouldn't have been possible. She's dead. The phone fell out of your hand as you froze, and he caught it before speaking.

The scent of damp earth suddenly choked the room, impossible, hallucinatory, but the voice on the line kept speaking.

"Father Remmick? Where's my granddaughter? She was supposed to—"

His fingers twisted deeper as his thumb circled your clit in a slow, taunting rhythm as he interrupted. "She's quite safe." His fangs grazed your shoulder. "Aren't you, lamb?"

You couldn't find your voice to speak, your mind was in overdrive a you tried to process what was happening. Were you dreaming again?

Remmick hummed softly as he lifted the phone away from his ear, holding the mouthpiece near your inner thighs. Letting the wet sounds of his fingers travel through the receiver. "She's just...overcome with emotion," he murmured. Watching your face twist with horror and pleasure as the implication sank in.

Finally, he hung up just as he coaxed an orgasm from you. Muscles clamping around his fingers as your back arched off the bed. He laughed against your throat as get heat gushed around his knuckles. "There she is," he purred. "Lil' grave-digger."

You sobbed beneath him, your body still shivering from the aftershocks of your climax. He withdrew his fingers slowly, slick with your release, and pressed them against your parted lips. "Swallow," he encouraged, watching your mouth wrap around his fingers as you sucked them clean.

He shifted, his cock dragging against your inner thighs, leaving a trail of precum as he pressed his forehead to yours. Suddenly, an emotion you hadn't felt since you smacked him surfaced. Rage. Before you could stop yourself, you pushed on his chest, desperate to get him off you. You didn't want to be near him. Then you used your feet to kick, not caring if you got hurt in the process.

Remmick caught your wrists effortlessly. "There's that fire I've missed. Careful, lamb." He warned, "or I won't be able to hold back."

You had used up what energy you had as your body collapsed against the bed while your breathing slowly evened out.

He weaved his fingers through your hair and yanked your head back sharply, exposing your throat. "That's better," he whispered before sinking his fangs into the tender flesh. You gasped, the pain mixing with pleasure as he drank deeply. His free hand roamed down to cup your breast, thumb brushing over the peaked nipple.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were stained red with your blood. He swiped his thumb across them before pressing it to your lips, forcing you to taste the metallic sweetness. "You can't run. Every heartbeat ties you closer to me." His hand moved lower, fingers slipping effortlessly back inside your cunt. "Feel that? Your body sings for me, even when your mind rebels."

You noticed dawn slowly approaching but it was clear that today would be cloudy with no sun. He seemed completely unaffected as daylight seeped through the curtains. You swallowed hard; your saliva tasted like him now, metallic and strange.

"Daylight," he murmurs, tracing the bite mark on your neck with his tongue. "But not sunlight. There's a difference, lamb." his hand slid down to grip your waist, fingers dimpling your skin as he shifted lower, his breath hot between your legs.

Your pulse jumped when his tongue flicked out. A slow, testing lick along your inner thigh. You shuddered, fingers twisting in the sheets that now smelled of sweat and arousal.

A soft gasp escapes you when his tongue finally presses against you, long and slow, lapping up your wetness with deliberate relish. The sensation absent sparks up your spine, pleasure mixed with revulsion.

His laugh vibrated against you, "still so responsive. Even when you hate me."

Instinctively, you closed your legs, glaring down at him. Feeling disgusted at yourself for enjoying it, and most of all, loathing Remmick.

He let your thighs clamp around his head with deliberate perversity, inhaling deeply through his nose as your wetness enveloped him. "Mmm," he moaned. The vibration made you shudder. His hands slid beneath your hips, gripping hard enough to bruise as he dragged you closer. "Even your hatred feeds me," he whispers before plunging his tongue inside without warning.

You gasp, louder than before, as his tongue enters you. Your walls flutter around his tongue, panting softly while you squeezed your eyes shut.

Remmick groaned as he ate you out with no mercy. His tongue curled inside, flicking against that sensitive spot. His nose brushed your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your soft moans growing louder despite your best efforts to stifle them. He chucked darkly, pulling back just enough to speak.

"Beg," he demanded, "beg me to let you cum."

You turned your head away, "no."

"You're tremblin'...but not from fear this time." Suddenly, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard enough to make you cry out and slipped two fingers inside. Your vision whited out as your climax crashed through you. He drank everything down like wine, his groan vibrating through your pelvis.

When he finally pulled away, his lips glistened with your release. "My greedy lil' grave-digger."

With a glare of disgust, you smacked his hand away, only realizing your mistake when it was too late. Instinctively, your arms covered your face as you braced yourself for impact.

Remmick laughed and grabbed your wrist before guiding it down to press against the rigid length of his cock. The heat of him was intense.

"Mine," he growled possessively between your breasts before leaning back. His eyes roamed over your body as he moved down between your legs again, then his gaze locked onto a part of you he's never touched. You suddenly felt his hands spread your ass.

A feral sound escapes him, half-groan and half-snarl. Your body tensed the second you feel his thumb lightly trace the rim. "No one's taken you here," he purred while he simultaneously pushed the tip of his finger against the tight entrance. The way your body tenses, the way your breath hitched was intoxicating for him.

He positioned his cock at your back entrance. You twisted beneath him, panic flooding through you, but he effortlessly pinned you down with unnatural strength.

"Shhh," he soothed, though his voice dropped with menace. "It'll hurt less if you relax."

"N-no! Please d-don't." You pleaded. The thought of him going somewhere you considered off limits made your stomach twist.

He chuckled, "You'll learn to beg for what you're pleading against now." His hips rolled forward, just enough for the broad head of his cock to breach the tight ring of muscle. Stretching you obscenely with one slow, inexorable push.

Your scream tore through the room, nails raking down his shoulders as your body trembled violently. Remmick groaned through clenched fangs as he forced himself deeper. "Christ, you're tight," he gasped.

Every inch burned as your body tried to accommodate him, the stretch bordering on mutilation. Yet, when he finally bottomed out, your cunt pulsed around nothing. Dripping shamelessly onto his cock as it stayed buried to the hilt in your ass.

Remmick covered your mouth to stifle the sounds, not wanting to bring any unwanted attention to the motel room. You couldn't suppress the noises that escaped you as your body tried its best to adjust to him. It seemed impossible.

He groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating through your tensed body. "Every muscle," he whispered into your neck as his hips shifted subtly to seat himself deeper. His fangs teased your pulse point as your inner walls fluttered around him. Tightening and releasing in involuntary spasms that drew a ragged moan from his throat. "Even your pain sings for me."

Your choked sob was muffled against his palm as he slowly withdrew; the drag of his cock was an exquisite torment. The stretch burned, too much and too thick. But when he thrust back in with deliberate brutality, your cunt pulsed with traitorous interest, slickness dripping down between your ass.

He laughed as he felt it trickle onto his cock, and with one hand, he slipped it between your legs to gather the evidence. Then he smeared it across your clit, circling roughly as his hips snapped forward again.

You tasted salt—tears or blood, you couldn't tell. The pain sharpened when he withdrew slightly only to slam back in deeper, the thick ridge of his cock dragging against places never meant to take such violation. Your thighs trembled violently, caught between the instinct to clamp shut and the overwhelming need to accommodate him.

Remmick kissed you sloppily before he snarled against your lips, his hips pistoning in short, brutal thrusts, each one stretching you further. "Look at you," he rasped, thumb swiping through the mess of tears and spit on your chin. "Takin' me like a fucking saint."

Your scream dissolved into a broken moan as he set a relentless pace, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. The pain blurred into something sharper, hotter. Your nerves were alight with conflicting signals as your ass stretched around him.

Remmick used one hand to hold your hip down against the bed while he roughly gripped your hair and yanked your head back. "Look," he snarled, forcing you to watch your reflection in the grimy motel mirror as he fucked you. Your flushed face, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust. "See how pretty you are when you're ruined."

You turned your head in the opposite direction, refusing to watch as you shut your eyes.

He growled and tightened his grip in your hair. "No, look. Or I'll fuck you through the mattress until you forget your own name." His hips thrusted forward with punishing force. The slap of skin against skin echoes as your body jolts from the force.

You reluctantly opened your eyes and looked at your blurry reflection. Remmick’s fingers splayed possessively over your abdomen, his lips curled in triumph as he watched your face in the mirror, drinking in your humiliation.

"That's my good girl," he purred, thrusting deeper to punctuate his praise. His free hand slipped between your thighs again, finding your clit swollen and throbbing despite the pain. "See how wet you are?" His thumb circled, forcing a broken sound from your lips. "Your body knows who it belongs to."

Your breath hitched as your ass clenched uncontrollably.

"Fuck—" His hips stuttered, and his rhythm faltered for the first time. Your body's betrayal was unraveling him as his thrusts grew erratic. Your arousal eases the brutal glide just enough.

"You'll take every inch." Each word was punctuated with a thrust as he hammered into you. He watched your reflection with fascination, the way your lips parted around silent screams, the flutter of your lashes when the pleasure momentarily eclipsed the pain.

His fangs scraped your shoulder as you groaned, the tight clench of your ass milking him ruthlessly. "Gonna fill you," he panted, hips stuttering. "Mark you inside where no one else—" His words dissolved into a guttural snarl as he came, his cock pulsing violently inside you. The heat of his release made you whimper, a visceral reaction that made him growl against your damp skin.

The mirror reflected his lazy smirk as he withdrew, watching his cum drip from your gaping hole. His thumb pushed the mess back inside with a possessive growl. "Mine," he murmured, licking the remnants from his fingers. You trembled, your humiliation heightening when he dragged his tongue through the mess.

You rolled over onto your side, facing away from him and the mirror as you stared at the entrance to your motel room. He trailed a finger down your spine.

"Thinkin' of runnin' again?" He asked, "You won't make it to the door," he promised.

The bed creaked as he shifted, draping himself over you. His cock, already hardening again, pressed against the curve of your ass. Outside, thunder growled.

"You'll dig tomorrow," he murmured as his lips brushed your shoulder blade. "But tonight..."

You could feel the exhaustion creeping in; your body was spent as you lay pliant on your side while he lay behind you. Your eyelids struggled to stay open as he traced the curve of your hip with his fingertips.

"Sleep, you'll need your strength." The words slithered into your ear, laced with a promise that made your stomach twist.

Remmick gently rolled you into your back. You were too exhausted to resist as you fell asleep. He could feel it in how your body completely surrendered to him. Still, he paused at the sight of your sleeping face, and something tightened in his chest. A sensation that's been dead for centuries. Disgusted, he crushed it beneath the weight of darker impulses.

Your thighs fell open as he lay between them. He slipped two fingers inside your cunt with ease. Your walls squeezed around the digits in sleepy resistance.

Your hips rolled sluggishly as your breath quickened. He watched your body's reactions while he curled his fingers, pressing against that spongy spot inside you until your thighs trembled. A choked moan escaped you.

"There she is," he purred softly, withdrawing his fingers just to plunge them back in harder. The scent of your arousal thickened when he dragged his fingers over your clit in slow circles.

You whimpered softly in your sleep, hips bucking with helpless need. He chuckled in amusement, "greedy thing," he taunted.

The mattress dipped as he dragged your legs over his shoulder. The first press of his tongue against your clit forced a startled cry from your throat. Your eyes flew open just in time to see him smile wickedly against your cunt before he devoured you. Every such drew another broken sound from your lips, your back arching as the pleasure raced through you in intense waves.

Your fingers tightly gripped the sheets, breath hitching when he sucked on your clit hard. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the sounds, but Remmick's fingers dug into your hips to pull you closer, forcing your moans from you.

He withdrew his fingers and pressed them against your lips, "taste." You obeyed, his fingers slipped deeper than you anticipated as he triggered your gag reflex, causing your teeth to clamp down with all the force your exhaustion would allow.

Remmick froze in surprise, assuming it was intentional, he quickly withdrew them from your mouth. He examined his fingers, the indentations were already vanishing. Before you could speak, he flipped you over onto your stomach with inhuman speed, pinning you face down into the mattress.

His laugh was a low vibration as his thumbs dug into your ass before spreading you open. "You're drippin', even now." Then, without warning, he slips two fingers inside again, making sure to target your G-spot.

The sudden pressure was intensified as you felt the sensation of a full bladder. Your muscles clenched around his fingers in protest, but that only made him groan against you as his tongue rimmed your back entrance.

"W-wait!" You gasped, thighs trembling from the need to relieve yourself as well as from his relentless assault. "I can't—"

Remmick's laugh vibrated against your ass as the pace of his fingers continued. "Can't what?" He taunted.

The pressure was unbearable now, a hot, urgent weight low in your belly that made your body arch. Every deliberate press of his fingers against your G-spot sent a jolt through your bladder, your breath hitching in panic.

"I n-need...if you keep doing that—" Your body writhed as you lay helplessly on the bed. The dual sensations of the rising pleasure and unbearable fullness grew more overwhelming with every passing second. "Wait—" You choked out desperately as his thumb circled your clit in sync with his fingers.

The pressure built, unbearable, until your body betrayed you in a hot and humiliating rush. Your thighs jerking as warmth spilled from you, soaking his chin and the sheets beneath.

Remmick groaned against your cunt, the vibrations sending fresh tremors through your oversensitive nerves. "Fuckin' hell," he growled, lifting his face just enough to watch the aftermath drip down and pool between your thighs. He slowly withdrew his fingers, glistening, and brought them to his lips.

You whimpered into the bed in humiliation as a deep blush spread across your body.

His grin was feral as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. You felt him shift behind you as his cock, hard and throbbing, pressed against your entrance. Then his hips jerked forward without warning, stopping once he was halfway buried inside.

He exhaled sharply, "God's, you're still tight as a fuckin' vice."

Remmick pulled out almost completely, letting you feel every ridge of him before slamming back in. This time to the hilt. He groaned as he set a punishing rhythm. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your ragged whimpers.

Pairing: Landlord!Remmick x Fem!Reader  - One Shot, A.U. (No Beta)

A.N.: Wanted to give Landlord!Remmick a go, so I came up with this. Please enjoy! Likes, Comments & Reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you in advance to those who take the time to read! 🖤❤️

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Non-Con, PeepingTom!Remmick, Perverted!Remmick, Landlord!Remmick, Masturbation (F & M), Bondage, Cervix Contact, Fingering, PiV, Forced Orgasm, Forced Creampie, Oral (F!Receiving), Praise, Dirty Talk, Spanking, Biting, Rough Sex, Degradation, Overstimulation, Blood Drinking. (If I missed something plz lmk!)

Summary: After months of searching for a new place you find a decent apartment complex close to work. You speak to the landlord over the phone and finalize paperwork by email. It's the end of the week and late in the evening when you return home from grocery shopping. Once everything is put away you take a shower and decide on some personal time to relax as you lay in bed, completely oblivious of the stranger hiding in your bedroom closet.

W.C.: 9.1k

MASTERLIST

The humid summer night clung to your skin as you struggled with three overloaded grocery bags, the plastic handles digging into your palms. You hurried to your front door, setting down the bags to grab your key to unlock the door.

Inside the apartment, unbeknownst to you, a man stood in your room. Deeply inhaling a pair of freshly laundered panties, his pupils dilated with predatory hunger. The scent of body wash and warm skin made his fangs throb, but then came the metallic jingle of keys at the door.

"Shit—" He cursed, his head snapped toward the doorway as he calculated the distance to the bedroom. He moved faster than human eyes could track, silk and lace still clutched in his grip, before he vanished inside your closet just as the front door creaked open.

"God, I need a drink," you muttered, kicking the door shut behind you with your heel. The apartment smelled faintly of citrus, from where you spent a good amount of time deep cleaning. You sighed and dropped the bags onto the counter with a thud.

After grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you poured yourself a generous helping of red wine, almost spilling over the rim, before taking a long sip. "At least I'm off till Monday," you murmur, rolling your shoulders. You were eager to enjoy your weekend.

With the groceries put away and your wine already gone, the faint sound of your bare feet on the hardwood floors filled the hallway as you headed toward the bedroom. You tug at the damp fabric clinging to your chest. The air conditioning kicks on once you adjust the settings. Your arms raise over your head, stretching as you enter the bedroom.

You removed your dress and tossed it to the floor at your feet.

He watches through the slats, pupils blown wide as the dress pools around your ankles. The scent of warm skin and scented lotion flooded the enclosed space.

His fingers tighten around stolen silk as your curves catch the dim lamplight. He freezes momentarily when you reach for a drawer, the same one he'd rifled through earlier. You pause, fingertips brushing the disorganized contents.

"That's odd..." You frown at the jumbled panties, certain you had folded them yesterday, then shrug, brushing it off as exhaustion before grabbing a baggy t-shirt and sleep shorts from the second drawer. You stretch again, yawning this time, and the sound that escapes you makes his undead pulse stutter against his ribs.

After making sure you had everything, you made your way to the bathroom.

The water's spray echoes against the tile. You test the temperature with your wrist, steam already curling around you. He exhales through parted fangs, your discarded dress still warm where it lies on the floor, and he debates whether to bolt or indulge just one more stolen glance.

You hum absently under the hot water, fingers massaging shampoo into your scalp, blissfully unaware of the ancient predator currently pressing his forehead against your closet door. His cock strained against his pants when your scent permeated the air.

You step out of the shower, toweling off briskly before wrapping yourself in a robe, the damp fabric clinging to your hips. You moisturize, then leave the bathroom to get dressed, putting on the large black t-shirt. Completely skipping the shorts. The top barely covered your ass as you collapsed onto the bed. With a deep sigh, you lie face down, your feet facing the closet door.

His nostrils flare when your bare legs stretch toward him, toes curling into the sheets, only a few feet from where he hides. The shirts rids up, revealing the curve of your ass beneath the hem.

"Christ," he breathes against the closet door, unable to resist pressing his palm flat against the wood, then freezes when the bed creaks beneath shifting weight.

You roll onto your back, stretching languidly as the hem rides up, revealing the hair between your thighs. 'Maybe I should...' You think to yourself as your fingers trace absent circles on your stomach, contemplating whether to indulge yourself tonight.

His breath hitches as your fingertips graze dangerously close to where he aches to taste, his knuckles whitening against the closet door.

Your fingers trail lower, hovering over your pubic mound. The air feels charged, like static before a storm. "Hmm..."

The bed shifts as you arch your back, fingers slipping beneath the shirt's hem to circle your clit, slow at first, teasing, until your breath hitches and you reach blindly for the nightstand drawer, fumbling past random items for the silicone rabbit vibrator buried beneath.

"Gods," he mouths silently, transfixed as your thighs part wider. The scent of your arousal thickened the air until his fangs pierce his own lips, blood blooming across his tongue. His cock strains painfully against his trousers, fabric slightly damp with precum where it tents, every muscle taut as he resists the urge to burst through the door and take you right there.

The closet door creaks infinitesimally under his grip when your fingers curl around the vibrator. The same one he'd pressed to his own nostrils a half hour prior, still faintly tasting you on his tongue. His free hand palms himself roughly through his trousers, hips jerking involuntarily when you flick the toy on, the buzz muffled against your skin but vibrating straight through his bones.

You arch off the mattress with a soft moan as the vibrator buzzes against your clit, a shudder rolling through you. His pupils swallow the last remnants of blue as your thighs tremble.

Your breath comes in shallow pants as you slip the toy inside; the vibrating arm against your clit makes your hips jerk involuntarily. You tug at your nipple through the thin fabric, biting your lip to stifle a moan.

His claws sink into the closet door, splintering wood as your scent floods his senses. "Look at you,"* he growls under his breath, watching your thighs quiver, "playin' with yourself while the devil himself watches." His cock throbs, wetness seeping through his trousers as he imagines sinking into you.

A floorboard groans beneath his shifting weight, his control fraying by the second as you arch higher, the vibrator's hum taunting him. "Fuck," he snarls, and the closet door suddenly flies open, your head whipping toward the sound just as he looms over the bed, eyes black with hunger.

Your eyes widen in shock as a loud gasp escapes you. You scoot back until your back hits the headboard. The toy, now completely forgotten, lay buzzing on the bed at your feet. "Don't come any closer or I'll scream," you threaten in a shaky voice.

His lips curl into a slow, dangerous smile as he steps closer, enjoying the way your pulse thrums in your throat. "You'll scream, hmm?" He asks in a deep southern drawl. "Funny thing 'bout screamin' in this buildin', walls're thick enough to muffle any sound. But by all means, darlin'... give me a show."

Your pulse stutters as you take in the sight of his unnaturally long and sharp teeth, as well as the glowing crimson eyes. "Get out," you demanded.

He chuckles, prowling forward until his knees press into the mattress, the predatory grace in his movements sends shivers down your spine. "Now why would I do that when you're sittin' there all pretty and wet for me?" His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. "Smell that? Fear and desire, always the sweetest cocktail."

Wet for him? You didn't even know he was here, let alone hiding in your closet like some creep. "Because this is my apartment, and you're clearly delusional."

He licks his fangs slowly, eyes locked on the vibrator still buzzing at your feet, his cock twitching at the sight. "Oh, I'm many things, darlin'," he murmurs, grabbing the toy between clawed fingers, "but delusional ain't one of 'em." He inhales deeply against it before turning it off. "You got taste."

You stumbled out of bed, almost falling as you stood on the opposite side of the bed to put distance between him and you. "You're disgusting," you mutter, but to your surprise, the words have an opposite effect. They seemed to only get him more worked up.

His grin widens as he advances around the bed with unhurried steps, tossing the vibrator onto the nightstand with a dull thud. "Disgustin', am I?" His Southern drawl drips with amusement as he loosens his tie with one hand, the other sliding into his pocket to retrieve a crumpled pair of lace panties, your panties, which he brings to his nose with a theatrical inhale. "Funny how your body says otherwise, darlin'. You're practically drippin’ down those pretty thighs."

With every step forward, you took a hurried step back, desperate to keep space between him and you. "You broke into my apartment, stole my underwear and hid in my closet like some loser. So, maybe you're right. Disgusting is an understatement." You replied snarkily.

He lunges forward with inhuman speed, pinning you against the wall before you can blink, his body flush against yours. The cold hardness of his belt buckle pressing into your bare thigh. "Loser?" His laughs as his nose brushes along your throat, inhaling sharply. "Says the woman whose cunt's leakin' down her thighs."

You struggled against his grasp, but it was futile. He was impossibly strong and fast. He effortlessly pins you against the wall. Your wrists come together above your head with a wave of his hand. You let out a startled gasp as you fought against the invisible restraints.

How was he doing that without touching you?

"Hush now," he cooed against your throat, his breath chilling against your flushed skin. "You can't lie to a Vampire, your pulse jumps like a rabbit's when you lie." His lips traced your rapid pulse, savoring the way your body shuddered. "Ya like this... the danger of it."

Vampire?

"N-no!" You struggled again, shivering as his tongue trailed along your pulse point. But he was right, even though you were fighting him, your body gave you away. The hardened nipples visible through your shirt and the heady mess between your legs.

His chuckle vibrated against your throat as his free hand slid up your bare thigh, claws retracted, but fingertips still light enough to raise goosebumps. "Ah, you're a terrible liar," he kneads the soft flesh of your inner thigh before dragging one finger through your slick folds.

Your gasp was louder than your protests.

"Fuck, you're drenched," he groaned against your collarbone, rolling your arousal between his fingers like fine wine. "Tell me, darlin'... how long since someone touched you proper?"

His question caught you off guard, and you found yourself too flustered to speak as you looked away with no intention to reply.

He chuckled darkly, capturing your chin between thumb and forefinger to force your gaze back to his. "No need to answer, love. Your body tells me everything." With deliberate slowness, he brought his slick finger up to your parted lips.

You pressed your lips together and turned your head away in defiance, refusing to play along.

His nostrils flared at your defiance, pupils dilating further as he pressed his damp fingertip harder against your sealed lips. "Oh, stubborn lil' thing," he rumbled. The free hand slid up to grip your throat, enough pressure to feel your pulse hammer against his palm. "Your mouth says no, but this pretty body of yours?" He dragged his tongue along your fluttering pulse. "Tells me ya want to be ruined."

You froze as you felt his erection and how thick he was. There's no way you could take it without it hurting. Your legs instinctively closed tight.

"None of that now," he scolds in disapproval, wedging his knee between your thighs. The fabric of his pants grazed your bare skin as he forced your legs apart. His free hand slid up to grip your hip, fingers digging into soft flesh as he ground his cock against your pussy.

His hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to expose the trembling column of your throat. "I'll make it good for you," he promised darkly, rolling his hips against you in a slow, filthy grind that dragged a soft whimper from your lips. "Gonna ruin you so sweet you'll beg for more."

He felt your thighs tremble around him, your body betraying you even as you try to turn your face away. The hand on your hip slid up to palm your breast through the thin fabric, thumb circling the peaked nipple achingly slow. "Look at you—already half-gone and I haven't even started."

"S-shut up," you stuttered, whimpering softly when he pinched the nipple hard.

His fingers tightly squeeze your breast. "Make me," he teased. "Unless that pretty mouth of yours is only good for lyin'."

"Like you'll ever know," you murmur under your breath.

"Oh, I'll know soon enough," he assures you, dragging his fangs down to the swell of your breast before biting down just hard enough to make you gasp, not breaking skin, but leaving a mark that'll bruise beautifully by morning. His knee presses higher between your thighs, flawlessly settling his hips between your legs and forcing a strangled moan from your lips.

The scent of your arousal was intoxicating as he grinds his clothed erection into your slick heat. He could feel every shuddering breath you took beneath his palms, every rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his lips. His cock aches with the need to claim you properly, to sink into your cunt until you forget every lover who came before him, until you scream, only for him into the night.

He keeps your wrist pinned above your head with the invisible restraints as he presses his body against yours so there's no space between you. A breathy moan escapes your lips when he grinds his erection into your soaked cunt, the wetness transferred onto his pants. Your back arches in the attempt to move away, but it only results in your body pushing into him.

His breath hitches against your throat as you arch, the heat of your body searing through his clothes. "Fuckin' tease," he growls, sinking the tips of his fangs into the tender skin where your neck meets your shoulder, just enough pressure to make you gasp. His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hiking it up around his hip before he grinds against you in slow circles. "You want it rough, don't ya? Want me to ruin you proper?"

You whimper and shake your head as you try to ignore the friction from his grinding.

He grins, pressing his forehead against yours, the dim light highlighting his fanged grin. "Still playin' hard to get?" With one brutal motion, he tears your shirt down the middle, exposing your bare breasts to the chilled air, nipples pebbling instantly under his hungry gaze. "Let's see how long that lasts."

He palms your breasts roughly, thumbs circling the nipples with agonizing slowness. "Christ, you're perfect," he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in a searing kiss. All teeth, tongue and dominance, swallowing your startled gasp as one hand slides between your thighs.

Your eyes widened in shock before narrowing in anger when you felt his tongue slip past your teeth. Then, without a second thought, you bite down on his tongue, but you're confused and disappointed when he isn't affected.

He growls low in his throat as your teeth sink into his tongue in perverse delight. His cock twitches against you at your defiance. "Fuck, you're feisty," he rasps against your lips before claiming your mouth again, deepening the kiss. The hand between your thighs finds your clit, already swollen and throbbing. His fingers glide through your slickness with obscene ease, circling your clit just enough to make your legs tremble. "Tell me you don't want this," he challenges darkly, dragging his fangs along your bottom lip.

Your breath hitches as his fingers work you over with cruel precision, hips bucking against his hand despite yourself. He smirks against your lips, savoring your moan as his thumb presses harder against your clit, just shy of painful, while his other hand teases your nipples. "That's it, pet," he purrs in that whiskey-rough drawl, spreading you wider. "Let go for me."

"Not your Pet." You muttered angrily.

His breath fanned against your skin as he laughed before you felt his fingers curling tightly in your hair, tilting your head back further to expose the frantic pulse in your throat. "Oh, but you are," he murmured against your damp skin, he pressed two thick fingers against your entrance without warning, the sudden stretch making you gasp. "Every. Quiverin'. Inch." He punctuated each word with a shallow thrust, savoring the way your walls clenched around him.

Your body arched from the unexpected intrusion, walls fluttering around his digits as he pushed them deeper.

"Gods, so tight," he growled, twisting his fingers just to feel you clench. The slick sounds were loud in the quiet room. "Been too long since someone fucked you proper, hasn't it?"

"S-shut up," you murmured, avoiding his gaze.

His fingers curl deeper inside you, stretching your walls with slow but rough thrusts as his thumb drags against your clit. "Mmm, that's what I thought," he purrs against your throat, then inhales sharply. "Body don't lie." His other hand releases your hair to trace the outline of your parted lips, slick with shared saliva. "Bet that pretty mouth could take me just as sweet."

"Try it, and I'll bite it off," you threatened.

He threw his head back with a deep, throaty laugh that vibrated through your body where you were pressed together. "Oh, darlin'," he murmured, his fangs lightly tracing down your throat as his fingers twisted inside, "you'd miss my cock too much once you tasted it." His thumb left your clit and slid between you to unbuckle his belt with a metallic clink, the leather sliding free with a whisper against the fabric of his pants.

Your heart hammered at the sound of his belt being undone, thighs instinctively trying to close despite your legs that were wrapped around his waist.

His palm pressed flat against your sternum, pinning you to the wall with effortless strength while his other hand worked the button of his trousers open. "Still fightin'?" His Southern drawl dripped with amusement as his cock sprang free, thick, flushed and painfully hard; the tip glistened and dripped with precum. "Your cunt's drippin' down my fingers like honey," he murmured against your ear before licking the shell sharply. "Admit it—you want me buried balls-deep in you."

His fingers withdrew with an obscene sound, glistening slick in the dim light as he pressed them against your parted lips, smearing your arousal across your mouth. "Taste," he commanded, eyes glowing crimson with hunger as he watched your tongue dart out reflexively.

The growl that escaped him when you swallowed was animalistic, his cock twitching against your thigh. "Good girl," he purred in approval, gripping his shaft to stroke himself slowly, the veined length brushing against your sensitive folds tauntingly. "Now let's see if that pretty mouth backs up all that sass."

You turned away, cheeks burning as your body betrayed you, hips lifting instinctively toward his touch in betrayal. "You're disgusting," you hissed, but the tremor in your voice undercut the venom.

"Disgustin', am I?" He dragged the head of his cock through your slick labia with a filthy groan, the sensation making you whimper as precum mixed with your wetness. "Then why's this sweet cunt weepin' for me?" He forced you to meet his gaze as he pressed forward, just enough to stretch your entrance, the blunt pressure stealing your breath. "One word... say stop and I walk out that door." His smirk was wicked. "But we both know you won't."

Your nails dug into your palms as the first inch of him breached you, the stretch bordering on painful. Your breath hitched when he stilled, watching the conflict flicker across your face. His nostrils flared as your body trembled, slick heat clenching around him in reluctant welcome. His fingers flexed against your hip, leaving crescent indents in your skin as he fought the urge to slam home, savoring the way your pulse raced like a caged bird.

"There we go," he murmured against your lips, rolling his hips in a slow, torturous circle that dragged a whimper from your throat. The head of his cock catches on your inner walls with every movement. His free hand slid between you to circle your clit, his smirk widening when you arched off the wall. "Knew you could take me, darlin'," he breathed, dragging his fangs along your jaw. "Now let's hear you say it."

"N-no!" You refused stubbornly with a glare of anger.

He chuckled darkly, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in with deliberate slowness. The sensation made you gasp as your walls fluttered around him. "Mmm, that's alright," he says, voice thick with amusement. "Your cunt's doin' all the talkin' for you." His free hand slid up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to his as his hips snap forward with a filthy wet smack that echoed. "Fuck! You feel that? How you're squeezin' me like a vice?" He smiled seductively as he pressed deeper; the stretch burned. "Body never lies, love."

He was only halfway inside, and the stretch was a conflicting combination of pain and pleasure as you groaned softly.

A growl rumbled low in his throat as he felt your tight walls flutter around him, hips stuttering forward another inch. Your sharp inhale was music to his ears. "Christ, you're snug," he rasped against your throat, his hand slid down to grip your thigh, hiking it higher around his waist. "Can't wait to stretch you out."

Your breath hitched as he pushed deeper. The stretch became unbearable as your body arched against him. "S-stop...too much!" you gasped, but the way your hips tilted instinctively betrayed your words.

He moaned low in his throat at your half-hearted protest, his grip tightening on your thigh as he bottomed out with a brutal thrust that made you cry out. Your walls quiver uncontrollably around him.

"Liar," he muttered. "Look at you—talkin' all sweet while your cunt's suckin' me in deeper." His fangs scraped your jaw as he inhaled sharply. "Gods—You're fuckin' drippin' down my thighs."

Your breath came in ragged pants as he filled you. The fullness was intense, yet your hips moved instinctively to meet his next thrust. His tongue traced the frantic pulse beneath your skin as he withdrew almost completely before slamming back in with enough force to shake the wall behind you.

"There's my good girl," he praises softly.

"N-not your g-good girl..." You stutter in a shaky voice.

His laugh vibrates through your body as he lifts you higher against the wall, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes. Each thrust punctuated by the wet slap of skin. "Tell me that again when you're screamin' my name," he growls, moaning when he feels you tighten around him like a fist.

"I don't even know your name," you reply. In fact, you've never seen him before in your life. However you couldn't deny that there was something oddly familiar about his voice.

"Remmick," he says, thrusting deeper just to feel you squeeze him. "Your landlord," he added as he inhaled your scent, salt, fear and arousal. "And soon to be the only name you'll be screamin'."

Your eyes widened in shock, this was the man you had only ever spoken to on the phone? The realization made you squirm, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into your thigh as he drove into you relentlessly. "You—you bastard!" you gasped, your insult ruined by the way you bucked into his thrusts.

His chuckle sent a chill down your spine as he kept your wrists pinned above your head with the invisible restraints.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he growled, rolling his hips in slow circles, the movement pushing him deeper than you thought possible. He  gripped your chin hard, forcing you to watch as your own arousal dripped down his thighs. "Your lease agreement didn't mention this perk," he murmured before claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss. 

Remmick pulled back just enough to watch your eyes widen as he suddenly lifted you effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist instinctively. "Did you even read it?"

But he didn't give you the opportunity to reply before slamming into you, the head of his cock rutting against your cervix. Your screams were muffled by his shoulder as he pounded into you with brutal, unforgiving strokes that shook the wall. "That's it, keep makin' those pretty noises for me," he taunts, fangs scraping your earlobe. "Whole building's soundproof."

Your arms fell limp at your sides when the unseen restraints suddenly vanished, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly. Each deep thrust forced punched-out whimpers from your throat. The stretch was intense; your hips rolled instinctively to meet him. Your body betraying your protests as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly with every snap of his hips.

His growl vibrated against your sweat-slicked skin, nails digging into his shoulders. Remmick’s fangs scraped your pulse point when you arched into a particularly brutal thrust. "There we go," he groaned as his hands slid down to grip your ass, holding you to fuck up into you with sharper angles. "Knew you could take it, darlin'."

The obscene slap of skin echoing off the walls with each punishing thrust, the scent of your arousal clung thick to the air, salt, musk and something distinctly you, making his cock twitch inside you as he buried himself to the hilt. "Gonna ruin you so sweet you'll forget anyone else ever touched you."

Your head thumped back against the wall as pleasure coiled tighter with every deep stroke, thighs trembling around his waist. The friction bordered on too much yet not enough. "H-harder," slipped out before you could bite it back, cheeks burning at the hungry growl it earned.

He hummed in approval against your throat as he obeyed, slamming his cock harder into you with enough force to make you scream. The wet slap of skin drowning out your ragged breaths. "Atta girl," he praised, fangs scraping your jugular when you clenched around him like a vice. "Knew you'd beg eventually."

His hips snapped forward without mercy now, each brutal thrust stretching you impossibly deeper. Your thighs tremble around his waist as pleasure coiled tighter. "Gonna make you cum on my cock like a good lil' slut," he teased against your ear before biting the lobe sharply. With one hand, he circled your clit, syncing with his thrusts. "Right fuckin' now."

The dual stimulation pushing you towards the edge faster than you could fight, back arching off the wall as your cunt fluttered around him in erratic pulses. "N-no I—" The protest died in your throat when he pinched your clit hard, your vision whiting out momentarily as your climax crashed over you with devastating force.

"That's it, let it out," he coaxed huskily as your walls clenched around him in rhythmic convulsions. Your entire body trembled through the aftershocks while he fucked you through it with brutal strokes. The scent of your climax flooded his senses, thick and musky and utterly intoxicating, his cock twitching inside you as you milked him shamelessly. "Fuck, feel that?" he murmured. "Your cunt's beggin' for my cum."

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you regained awareness, panic flaring when you realized he was still buried deep inside. His hips snapped forward with renewed vigor, the telltale tension in his muscles signaling his impending release.

"W-wait—pull out!" you pleaded, fingers weakly pushing against his chest, your voice hoarse from screaming. "You can't—"

Remmick's growl vibrated through your body as his claws flexed against your hips, thrusts turning erratic. "Too late, pet," he says, one hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back. "Gonna fill this cunt so deep you'll taste me for days." His hips stuttered as he buried himself to the hilt with a snarl, hot cum flooding you in pulsing waves that made you whimper at the overwhelming sensation.

Your breath hitched as warmth spilled inside, thighs shaking around his waist, but the panic returned tenfold when you felt him twitch against your inner walls, still rock-hard despite his release. "W-why aren't you—" The protest died in your throat when he rolled his hips lazily, pushing his cum deeper.

"Vampire stamina, darlin'," he explains smugly before his tongue drags over the bite marks he'd left earlier as his fingers trace the bruises blooming on your hips. "Told you I was gonna ruin you proper." He chuckled darkly as you squirmed, the movement making your walls flutter around his still-thick cock.

Remmick's arms tightened around your waist as he lifted you again, your thighs instinctively clamping around his hips before he crossed the room too fast for you to see. The mattress groaned under the combined weight when he dropped you onto the rumpled sheets, his fangs flashing in the dim light as he crawled over you like a predator circling prey. "Now let's see how many times I can make you cum before sunrise," he grins against your inner thigh, tongue tracing the sensitive skin there before biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets as his mouth trailed higher, breath hitching when his tongue flicked against your still-sensitive clit, hips jerking off the bed at the sudden burst of pleasure. "Stop—I can't—" The protest dissolved into a moan when he sucked that throbbing bud between his lips, the vibrations of his chuckle sending shockwaves through your oversensitive nerves. Your thighs trembled as another orgasm built alarmingly fast, toes curling when his fingers slid back inside your still-slick entrance without warning.

He added a third finger, stretching you mercilessly while his tongue worked your clit in rapid circles. You arched off the bed with a shattered scream when you came again, his name tumbling from your lips unbidden. "There's my good girl," he praised against your quivering flesh as he lapped up your arousal greedily. "Knew you'd say my name."

Remmick's hands slid under your hips, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he aligned himself at your entrance. He watched your eyes widen with delicious fear when he pressed forward in one slow, inexorable thrust that stole your breath. The stretch was overwhelming as your walls convulsed around him. His cock twitched when fresh slickness spilled between you. The scent of mixed release clung thick to the air, heady and primal as his hips began moving slowly.

You weakly tried to push him away, your body trembling from overstimulation as breathy whimpers escape you.

His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise as he sets a rhythm, each thrust punctuated by the wet slap of skin. Remmick’s fangs gleaming when you arched off the bed with a choked moan. "You take me so sweet," he growls out, tongue lapping at the sweat on your neck.

Your thighs quake as he ruts into you relentlessly, oversensitivity sparking with each deep stroke. You clawed at his forearms in a futile attempt to ground yourself. "S-slow down," you gasp, but your hips tilt up instinctively to meet his next thrust.

"Not a fuckin' chance," he snarls, his grip tightens, lifting your lower half effortlessly to fuck deeper with each snap of his pelvis. The wet squelch of your combined slickness fills the room when he bottoms out; your breathless whimper was music to his ears.

Remmick laughed softly against your collarbone as he adjusted the angle, your breath hitching when his next thrust visibly distends your lower belly, the obscene bulge of his cock pressing against your womb as he targets that sweet spot ruthlessly. "Christ," he moans, dragging a finger down your trembling abdomen to trace his own outline beneath your skin. "Takin' me so deep you can see where I belong."

He withdraws completely, his cock glistening with your mixed release before he grips himself lazily, smearing your slickness along his shaft while admiring how your swollen entrance pulses around nothing, gaping slightly from his girth. "Fuckin' perfect," he rasps, dragging the head through your folds just to watch you shudder. "Like this cunt was made for me."

Your breath catches when he suddenly flips you onto your stomach without warning, forcing you into a deep arch, his knee spread your thighs wide. "N-not again—" you whimper, but the protest fades into a moan when he presses forward in one smooth thrust, your body accepting him effortlessly now.

"That's it," he moaned in satisfaction, his hips snap forward. Your slickness making the slide obscenely easy despite the stretch. His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat as he bottoms out with a groan. "Gods, you feel even tighter like this."

One hand slid beneath you to palm your swaying breasts, pinching a nipple sharply just to hear your gasp. "Still pretendin' you don't want this?" He growls just before his pace becomes punishing as your ass slaps against his thighs rhythmically. "When this pretty pussy is suckin' me in deeper?"

Your fingers tightly grip the sheets as he fucks you, each brutal stroke lighting up oversensitive nerves, your body trembling when his thumb finds your clit again, circling it slowly. "F-fuck," you whimper, arching your breasts into his palm while your hips rock back instinctively.

"There's my good girl," he groaned ferally.

His hips snap forward with bruising force, the wet slap of skin echoing off the walls as he bottoms out, your breath hitching when his palm lands sharply on your ass, leaving a stinging red imprint. "Gonna mark every inch of this body," he whispers against your ear. "Till you forget what it feels like not to have me inside you."

You cried out as his hand connected with your ass again, your entire body tensing, walls squeezing his cock hard. Your fingers clutch the sheets to ground yourself against his merciless thrusts.

His growl vibrates against your damp skin as he feels you clench around him, leaning over you to pinch your sensitive nipple. Your gasp, lost in the wet and obscene sound of your bodies connecting. "So fuckin' good," he rasps against your shoulder before biting down just hard enough to leave indents that'll surely bruise. His hips snap forward, and your whimpers turn to breathless moans.

He suddenly stills deep inside you, withdrawing just enough to make you whine before flipping you onto your back in one fluid motion. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he sank back into you with a guttural groan. "Wanna see your face when I make you cum again," he purrs against your lips. His cock twitches when your walls flutter around him in reluctant welcome.

Your breath hitches when his thumb finds your oversensitive clit again, hips jerking off the mattress, but his free hand pins you down effortlessly as he begins a slow, torturous rhythm. "P-please," you whimper before you can stop yourself, nails digging into his forearms when he suddenly angles his hips to brush that perfect spot inside with every thrust.

Remmick's answering growl vibrates through you as he licks up your jugular, fangs scraping the skin when your cunt flutters around him like a velvet vice. "Beg me," he purrs against your pulse, thrusts turning shallow just to feel your hips chase his cock with desperate little rolls. "Tell me how bad you want it—how you need me to ruin this sweet cunt."

You turned your head away defiantly, heat spreading across your face, neck and chest as guilt warred with pleasure.

He chuckled darkly, dragging his fangs along your exposed throat, tasting the frantic pulse beneath the skin before rolling his hips. "Beg," he repeated, pressing deeper, enjoying the way your lashes fluttered. His thumb circled your clit in torturous circles.

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, nails digging into the sheets as conflicting sensations overwhelmed you. His relentless rhythm against your clit, the way his cock stretched you impossibly deep with each thrust, the scrape of his fangs leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your hips lifted instinctively when he slowed, a frustrated noise escaping before you could swallow it back.

Remmick suddenly withdrew completely, watching your swollen entrance flutter around nothing. Your thighs trembled when he dragged the head of his cock through your slick folds with deliberate slowness. "Say it," he purred, tracing your lower lip with his thumb as your breath hitched. "Or I walk away right now and let this sweet cunt weep all night."

His fingers tightened in your hair, your lashes fluttering when his fangs pressed against the sensitive skin of your throat, tasting salt and reluctant arousal. The slow drag of his cock against your oversensitive clit drew another whimper from your parted lips. His smirk widens when your hips lift instinctively toward the teasing pressure. "Last chance," he murmured, the cold bite of his fangs contrasting with the heat of his breath. "Beg."

Your thighs trembled around his waist, jaw clenching in frustration, the slickness dripping down his thighs as you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. Your voice was barely above a whisper when it finally cracked. "Please..." The word tasted like defeat on your tongue, nails digging into his arms when you arched toward him shamelessly.

Remmick's growl vibrated against your throat. He rewarded your plea by slamming back into you with enough force to shake the bedframe. He smirked devilishly when you cried out, your walls convulsing around him sporadically. "Louder," he urged against your parted lips, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers tightened in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Keep going..." You muttered with more volume, still avoiding his gaze.

He gripped your thighs to spread them wider, fangs peeking out when you arched off the mattress with a shattered moan. "That's all you got, darlin'?" Remmick taunts, biting down sharply to mark you.

Remmick suddenly lifted your legs over his shoulders, bending you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to go deeper. The wet slap of skin echoed when he buried himself to the hilt, your gasp cut short by his bruising kiss. "There we go," he purred against your swollen lips when they parted for air. "Now beg."

Your body trembled uncontrollably when his thumb circled your clit, toes curling as pleasure coiled tight, fingers clawed frantically at his shoulders when his cock brushed that perfect spot inside. "Please...don't stop," you gasped before you could stop yourself, your voice cracking on the words as your thighs trembled.

He suddenly pushes your legs flat against the mattress. The new angle allowed him to sink deeper than ever before with a groan. "Fuck," he rasped, fangs scraping your chin as his hips snapped forward in perfect strokes. "Perfect lil' fucktoy—takin' me balls-deep."

His praise sent heat flooding throughout your body, drawing another choked moan from your throat. The way he murmured perfect against your damp skin made your stomach clench, your traitorous hips lifting to meet each deep stroke despite the oversensitivity humming through your nerves.

Your thighs trembled around him as the pressure of his thumb on your clit increased, every thrust hitting your G-spot. The scent of your arousal clung thick to the air when you arched off the bed with a broken cry, walls clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses that made his cock twitch.

"Fuck yes," he snarled against your throat, fangs grazing your pulse as he fucked you through the convulsions, hips stuttering when your slickness dripped down his balls. "There's my good girl—makin' such pretty sounds for me."

Remmick's hips snapped forward with enough force to make the headboard slam against the wall, his fangs peeking out when your scream dissolved into broken whimpers. "Gonna breed this tight cunt so deep you'll feel me for days," he says, the scorching heat of his release flooding you in pulsing waves that made you shiver.

Your breath hitched as warmth spilled deep inside, thighs trembling, but the panic returned when you felt him twitch against your inner walls, still rock-hard despite his release. "N-not again—" You gasped, your protest morphing into a moan when he rolled his hips lazily.

"Oh, darlin', we're just gettin' started," he purred, tongue dragging over her collarbone before he bit down sharply. His hips already moved in slow, torturous thrusts that made you whimper. "I'll make sure you can't walk tomorrow."

Your thighs trembled around him, one hand sliding beneath your hips to lift you as his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls with each deep stroke. "Shit—listen to that," he growled, the wet squelch of your mixed release filling the air as your slickness trickled down your ass and thighs. "Your cunt's still beggin' for more."

You whimpered while his fingers worked your swollen clit with ruthless precision, thighs trembling around his waist. Your instincts scream to pull away, even as your hips rock shamelessly against his hand. "N-no more," you pleaded, the lie crumbling when his thumb pressed harder, and your muscles fluttered around him in helpless pulses.

"Sweet lil' liar," he purred, tongue lapping at the sweat beading along your collarbone before biting down sharply. "Your cunt's hungry for it—clenchin' 'round me like a greedy lil' thing."

His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he suddenly lifted you higher, the new angle allowing him to sink deeper with a groan that shook his chest. "Gods, look at that," he growled against your parted lips, his thrust visibly distending your lower belly. The obscene bulge of his cock pressed against your G-spot as he targeted that spot ruthlessly.

Your vision whites out momentarily as another climax crashes over you with devastating force. The dual stimulation of his relentless thrusts and clever fingers pushed you past the point of coherent thought, your body trembling as the aftershocks crashed over you.

He felt you convulse around him, his fangs teasing your pulse while his hips stuttered. His release floods you deep once more in hot, pulsing waves that made you whimper at the overwhelming fullness. "Fuck, that's it," he groaned as his cock twitched wildly. "Takin' every drop like a perfect lil' fucktoy."

He slowly withdrew, watching your swollen entrance flutter around nothing, your thighs trembling when his fingers traced the mess of your combined release dripping down your inner thighs. "Such a good girl," he purred, lifting your limp wrist to lick the pulse point there with deliberate slowness. "Still fuckin' twitchin' for me after all that. You really love takin' my cock, huh?" He gave a fanged grin when you tried to turn away, his grip tightening possessively on your hip.

A soft gasp escaped you as his fingers trailed through the sticky evidence of your coupling, cheeks burning when he brought them to his lips with a groan of satisfaction. Your stomach clenched at the way his crimson eyes darkened with hunger as he licked the slickness from his fingers.

The question lingered between you, heavy and humiliating, but your traitorous body still arched toward him when his thumb brushed your oversensitive clit. "Shut up," you muttered weakly.

Remmick's grin was pure sin as he dragged your limp body up his chest while his palm slid possessively down your trembling abdomen. "Still drippin' with me," he murmurs against your racing pulse, his other hand squeezing your plush thigh hard enough to leave a handprint. "Whole bed reeks of us—bet if I fucked you right now, you'd cum before I even bottomed out." He laughed when you whimpered, hips twitching instinctively toward the teasing pressure of his half-hard cock against your thigh.

You huff softly in protest and avert your gaze, trying to calm the subtle trembling throughout your body.

He lays you down on your back, pinning you beneath him again. His half-hard cock presses insistently against your slick entrance. "Still pretendin' you don't love this?" he purrs, thrusting shallowly just to watch your lashes flutter. "When your pretty cunt's suckin' me back in already?"

Remmick sinks into you with one smooth stroke, your gasp muffled against his shoulder when he bottoms out, your walls fluttering around him instantly despite exhaustion. "Gonna keep you like this all night," he murmurs against your throat. "Till you can't remember your own name—just how good my cock feels."

"All night?" You repeat in shock and disbelief. A soft whimper escapes you as he nips your collarbone.

He rolls his hips in slow, torturous circles. "Till sunrise at least," he adds while his fingers trace the bruises blooming across your hips. "Gonna make sure this sweet cunt remembers exactly who owns it."

Your fingers twist helplessly in the sheets as his cock stretches you, thighs trembling uncontrollably around his waist. Every oversensitive nerve alight when his thumb finds your clit again, circling it with cruel precision. "S-sensitive—can't," you gasp.

"Christ, that sound—" He moans, tongue dragging over your rapid pulse as the wet slap of skin fills the room. "Still beggin' for more even when you're full of my cum."

Your body sinks deeper into the mattress with exhaustion, muscles pliant beneath his merciless rhythm, every protest dying on your lips when his thumb circles your oversensitive clit just right, drawing a shuddering whimper from your throat. The weight of him pressing you into the sheets feels strangely comforting now, your thighs falling open wider in silent surrender as pleasure coils tight in your belly again.

"There's my good girl," he praises before biting down sharply.

Your vision whites out momentarily as he pounds into you mercilessly. Any coherent thought obliterated by the overwhelming pleasure-pain of his cock stretching and filling you. A broken moan spills from your lips, body convulsing around him as another orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your overwhelmed walls flutter around him in helpless pulses that milk his cock shamelessly.

"Fuck, that's it—squeeze me just like that," he groans when your cunt spasms around him. His hips stutter when your inner muscles ripple along his shaft in greedy little flutters. His fingers tighten in your hair, yanking your head back as his thrusts turn erratic, you arch into his touch with a shattered moan.

Remmick's cock twitches violently inside you while your body instinctively milks him dry. "Greedy thing," he snarls, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as another hot flood of cum spills deep inside you.

Your breath hitches when you feel the intense heat of his release, your vision blurring momentarily when the sensation of being so thoroughly filled triggers another involuntary pulse of pleasure through your oversensitive nerves. You whimper weakly, hips rocking instinctively to keep him buried inside.

He pins your hips flush against his own, ensuring not a single drop escapes. His fangs peek from his curved lips when you arch into his touch.

Remmick suddenly rolls, his cock still buried deep, your whimper muffled against his chest when he settles you atop him with effortless strength. "There we go," he murmurs, hands roaming your quivering thighs as your slick walls flutter around him instinctively. "Ride me nice and slow—show me how good you take it."

Your exhausted body barely responds, muscles limp and pliant. Your limbs tremble weakly when you try to lift yourself, only to sink back down onto his cock with a soft moan. The oversensitive stretch makes your toes curl, your forehead dropping against his chest as you pant against his skin. "Can't...too tired..."

His laugh rumbles beneath your cheek as his hands slide up your sweat-slicked back, fingers tangling in your damp curls to tilt your head back. "Bullshit," he rolls his hips upward sharply to make you cry out. "You're still suckin' me in deeper...beggin' for more."

You whimper softly in protest and make no attempt to move as you lie pliant above him, your body still shuddering from oversensitivity, thighs trembling weakly around his waist.

Remmick's hands slide down to grip your hips possessively, lifting you effortlessly before dropping you back onto his cock with a wet slap. Your cry muffled against his chest when he bottoms out. He groans when he fills you.

Your body trembles from the sensation of his cum leaking, pooling around the shaft of his cock.

He watches in admiration as you quiver, his hands squeezing your waist as he keeps you pinned flush against him. "That's it, darlin'," he whispered. "Just let it happen...you were made for this."

His fingers trace the bruises blooming along your hips with possessive satisfaction, tongue flicking over his fangs when you whimper. Your slickness drips down his thighs as his cock twitches inside. "Fuck, look at you," he growls. "Still takin' me."

Your eyes drift around the room, landing on the clock on the table beside the bed. Did you really lose track of time? How was it already almost 1am?

He follows your gaze. "Don't worry your pretty lil' head 'bout the time, darlin'," he purrs, rolling his hips lazily. "Sunrise is hours away, plenty of time for ruin."

Your fingers twist helplessly in the sheets as his cock grinds deep from this angle, breath hitching when his palm lands sharply on your ass, the sting radiating and making you involuntarily clench hard around him.

His voice grew rough when you whimpered softly. "Shit," he groans, his pace faltering. "Your greedy cunt's still milkin' me dry."

Your eyelids flutter weakly as another wave of pleasure-pain washes over you. The steady rhythm of his hips rocking into your limp body, his warm cum leaking between your thighs. A soft sigh escapes your lips as darkness creeps at the edges of your vision, consciousness slipping away despite his relentless pace.

He feels you go limp above him, your shallow breaths warming his chest where you had collapsed against him. His cock is still buried deep inside your twitching cunt.

The smell of coffee jolts you awake, sharp against the lingering musk of sex clinging to your sheets. Sunlight cuts through half-drawn blinds, painting stripes across your bruised thighs as you blink at the unfamiliar silk robe draped over your body.

'Did I...dream all that?'

Your legs tremble when you attempt to stand, biting back a whimper as sore muscles protest. The robe slides like liquid against oversensitive skin, its crimson silk embroidered with Celtic knots that tighten around your waist when you tie it, too perfectly fitted to be a coincidence. 'I don't remember buying this robe', you think as you use one hand to support yourself against the wall and slowly make your way out of the bedroom.

The scent of coffee grows stronger as you limp toward the kitchen, only to freeze when your eyes land on Remmick leaning against your counter, the silver espresso machine he's operating with practiced ease. His crisp white shirt sleeves are rolled to reveal forearms still littered with your nail marks, the top buttons undone to show fresh marks you don't remember making.

'Definitely wasn't a dream', you concluded.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. Why was he still here? You assumed he'd be long gone by the time you woke up. But here he was, in your kitchen, drinking your coffee.

Remmick's fangs peeked out as he grinned when he caught you staring. He poured steaming espresso into a second cup, the rich scent mingling with the musk of your earlier activities still clinging to your skin. "Mornin', darlin'," he greeted you, pushing the cup in your direction, his blue eyes tracking every wince as you shifted your weight. "Sleep well?"

You ignored the offered coffee and his question, instead grabbing the counter's edge to steady yourself as you glared at him. "Get out," you managed through gritted teeth, your voice rougher than you expected. More than likely from all the screaming last night. The thought made your cheeks burn hotter as you straightened your robe self-consciously.

You head for the door with the intention of ordering him to leave, but you're greeted by someone standing on the other side. You turn, expecting to see Remmick, but he's nowhere in sight.

"Miss?" A male voice called out from the doorway, "I just wanted to check if everything was alright." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "We heard some...noises last night and wanted to make sure you weren't hurt." His eyes dart around the apartment, catching sight of the robe you wore.

Your entire body goes rigid as realization dawns, you're wearing Remmick's robe while answering the door to a neighbor who definitely heard everything last night. Heat floods your body as you clear your throat, fingers tightening on the doorframe. "I'm fine," you croak out, voice still rough from overuse, "Just...had a rough night."

The neighbor's raised eyebrow makes you want to melt into the floor, especially when his gaze drops to the unmistakable marks peeking above your robe's collar. You shift uncomfortably, wincing as sore muscles protest. "Really loud movie," you blurt out, hoping he doesn't notice the bruises on your thighs, faintly visible from beneath the hem.

The man's eyes dart over your shoulder, landing on the abandoned coffee cup still steaming beside the sink. His lips purse with dawning understanding before he coughs awkwardly. "Right. Well...welcome to the building, I guess."

You mutter, barely audible, "thanks," before closing the door with trembling hands, forehead pressing against the cool wood as you exhaled shakily. The sudden feeling of being watched comes over you, making your pulse stutter.

When you turn around, Remmick is leaning against the counter exactly where he'd been before, as if he'd never moved. His eyes gleam with amusement as he sips from the same coffee cup; he grins at your stunned expression.

"You said that the walls were soundproof," you murmur. A shiver rolls down your spine as you're reminded of what he is, a real vampire.

Remmick sets the cup down, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did I?" He asks, his eyes shamelessly roamed over your body, "I never said which side of the walls were soundproof."

You exhale sharply and roll your eyes before turning away and heading to the bathroom. "I'm taking a bath; you better be gone by the time I'm finished." However, your intuition told you that even if he did leave this wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

"Now why would I do that, darlin'?" His voice drops to a purr as he adds, "When I can just join you instead?" The sound of his shoes against the hardwood echoes behind you, slow and predatory.

You paused, halfway down the hall and turned to face him. "No," your voice was stern despite the sore throat. "Don't you have Landlord stuff to do? Other than harassing your tenants?"

He chuckled as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his crisp white shirt stretching over his chest and shoulders. "Consider this...a personal house call. Quality control."

"Quality control?" You repeat, skeptical and unconvinced. Your annoyed tone only amused him more.

Remmick pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you in one smooth stride. His fingers hook into the belt of your robe to tug you flush against him. "Exactly," he replied, taking a step closer. The movement was too fast for your human eyes to see. With one hand, he traced the fresh bite marks along your shoulder. "Gotta inspect my property thoroughly...make sure last night didn't leave any structural damage."

Your expression shifts from annoyance to confusion as he slips past you, heading for the bedroom. He inspects the scratches on the hardwood floors and dents in the wall from the headboard.

Remmick runs an index finger over the deep claw marks in the headboard, his claw marks. He turns, his eyes glowing a deep crimson, to find you hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "Structural damage confirmed," he says in mock disappointment, licking a drop of dried blood from his thumb while his eyes remain locked on you. "Gonna have to increase this month's rent."

At first you weren't sure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widened in disbelief as the implication hit you. He was actually going to charge you for the damages he caused.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groaned, fingers tightening on your robe's belt. "You're the one who—" The words died when he flashed you that infuriating smile. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm yourself; you were on the verge of cussing him out.

He closed the distance between you in a blink. His hands slid beneath the silk robe to grip your bruised hips possessively. "Or," he purred against your throat, "we could work out...alternative payment arrangements." He playfully nipped at your neck, tongue tracing the tender skin. "Interest rates are very favorable."

Pink and purple neon sliced through the smoke, stinging my eyes. The world had technically ended twenty-eight years ago when the Bone Temple exploded, but now? Now, things were just mixed. Cybernetic monstrosities, rogue robots, and retinal scanners shared the streets with the infected, who were bought and sold like slabs of meat. In the middle of this beautiful, chaotic hell, there was me. Sunshine.

I didn't remember where I came from or how I survived. All I knew was that the devils ruled this crazy cyber world. And he was the worst of them. Jimmy Crystal. Oh, pardon me. Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal. He demanded the full title, always.

I worked as a stripper at the Glass Glass, the only club left that featured real, breathing human dancers instead of cold, hollow holograms. Humanity was scarce, but people still needed to feel. They needed to touch. Jimmy was no exception.

The rumors said he belonged to some twisted cult, that he danced with Old Nick himself, and carried a mountain of bodies on his conscience. I didn't care. He gave me good tips, and in this world, that’s what kept you alive. Sure, he was eccentric—stalking around in a purple velour tracksuit, dripping in heavy gold necklaces, rings on every finger, and a literal tiara perched on his blonde hair. The other girls were terrified of him, of his erratic moods and that sharp, sadistic smile. But I wasn't. My kindness seemed to be the only thing that could anchor a monster like him. Whenever his heavy boots stepped into the club, his raw Scottish accent would echo over the bass: “Sunshine, lass.”

Until tonight.

Tonight, the Glass Glass was wild. I gripped the chrome pole, sliding down it with a slow, practiced grind. The cyber-mirrors were active, broadcasting my silhouette to the patrons.

Ding. Ding.

A high-roller token hit the stage. A half-cybernetic corpo rat in a synthetic tie was staring at me, drooling. I stepped closer, biting my lip provocatively, letting the neon catch the curves of my body. Dropping to my knees, I arched my back and began to shake my ass, slow and hypnotic. I giggled at the sheer desperation in his eyes.

"Enjoying the show?" I purred.

Before he could answer, the air in the room shifted. Cold. Violent.

"Not as much as you're going to enjoy mine, lass."

The raw, Scottish growl cut through the music like a blade. I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

The corpo rat was already on the floor. Jimmy had smashed his face into the cyber-mirror. Blood and shattered glass spilled from the man’s nose and cheeks, mixing with the neon light on the floor. The man groaned, but Jimmy didn't even look down at him. He just wiped a drop of rogue blood off his gold rings, his piercing eyes locked entirely on me.

I swallowed hard, the heat of the stage suddenly turning into ice. The crowd in the immediate area went dead silent, stepping back. Nobody intervened when Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal was on a tear.

"Jimmy..." I breathed, my chest heaving as I stayed on my knees, looking up at him.

He stepped over the groaning corpo rat, his heavy boots leaving bloody prints on the stage. The gold chains around his neck clinked musically, a stark contrast to the absolute fury rolling off him. He stopped right at the edge of the stage, towering over me. He tilted his head, the tiara catching the purple neon.

"What did I tell ye about shakin' what’s mine for the trash, Sunshine?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft, dripping with that thick Scottish brogue. He reached out, his gloved hand gripping my chin tightly, forcing my face up. His thumb pressed hard against my bottom lip, right where I had bitten it for the other man. "You look at me like that. Only me. Understand?"

I shuddered, the dominance in his voice sending a thrilling, terrifying spike of adrenaline through my veins. I was entirely at his mercy here, exposed and submissive under his heavy gaze.

"I was just doing my job, Sir," I whispered, playing into the game, my voice trembling just enough to feed his ego.

A dark, slow smile spread across Jimmy’s face. He liked the title. He liked the fear, but more than that, he liked the absolute control he had over me.

"Your job is to please me," he murmured, his grip softening just a fraction, tracing my jawline with a gold-ringed finger. He reached into his pocket and tossed a thick stack of high-value cyber-credits onto my lap, burying me in wealth. "Clean yourself up, lass. You're coming to my private room. And you're going to remind me why I haven't burned this entire club to the ground yet."

I swallowed hard, my throat feelin' dry as I stared at the shimmerin' pink glass of the private chamber’s entrance. I stepped inside, the air suddenly thick and heavy. Jimmy was there, sprawled across the plush velvet sofa, a crystal glass of amber alcohol in his hand. He didn’t look up immediately, but the atmosphere in the room shifted the moment I crossed the threshold.

I moved to the center, wrappin' my hands around the cold metal of the private dance pole.

Finally, his eyes flicked to mine. That sadistic, lopsided smile slid across his face.

"Ye’re a real piece of work, Sunshine," he rumbled, his thick Scottish accent rollin' over the words like gravel. "Dancin’ for other men? Right in front o' me? Have ye no sense o' shame, lass?"

"I… uh… I…" My heart hammered against my ribs. "It wasn’t like that, Sir."

Jimmy’s brow furrowed, his expression darkenin' into somethin' predatory. He tossed his drink aside, the glass rattlin' on the table.

"Not like that? Then what was it, eh? Enlighten me, if ye think ye can talk your way out o' this."

I didn't answer with words. I gripped the pole, locked my gaze onto his, and dropped low, lettin' my hips sway in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. I knew the white fishnets were a weakness of his—I saw his pupils dilate as he watched the movement.

A guttural, aggressive groan ripped from his throat. In a flash, he was off the sofa, his hands latchin' onto my waist with bruisin' force. He hauled me off the pole and slammed me down onto his lap. I let out a sharp, involuntary moan, my hands flyin' to his shoulders.

He didn't waste a second. His hand shot up, fingers closin' around my throat—not hard enough to choke, but enough to claim ownership. I could feel his hot, ragged breath against my skin, smellin' of spirits and smoke. He leaned in, his tongue tracin' a slow, wet line from my collarbone up to my jaw, his eyes burnin' with a mix of madness and hunger.

Then, with a blur of motion, he pulled a jagged blade from his tracksuit and held it right before my face, the metal glintin' under the pink neon.

"Old Nick was whisperin' in my ear," he growled, his voice a gravelly, terrifyin' purr against my ear. "Told me I oughta carve ye up for the disrespect, lass. Told me to let the blood flow for the sins ye've committed tonight."

He let the blade hover just millimeters from my cheek, his thumb caressin' my skin with terrifyin' tenderness.

"But I’m a merciful king, aye? And I’ve got other plans for ye tonight."

He crushed his lips to mine, the kiss hungry, sloppy, and tasting of expensive, bitter spirits. It wasn't a gentle greeting; it was a territorial claim.

"Mphm!"

I choked on a gasp as his hand tightened around my throat, his grip unforgiving. My eyes flew open, locking with his—his gaze was wild, manic, and absolutely possessive. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes raking over my flushed face.

"Wet," he murmured, his Scottish lilt thick and guttural, vibrating against my skin. "Aye, you’re very wet, aren't ye, lass?"

Before I could breathe, he slid a gold-ringed finger into the tight line of my panties. He didn't stop there. With a sudden, savage movement, he grabbed the blade he’d been brandishing and hooked the tip into the lace at my hip. With one clean, aggressive pull, he tore the white fishnet and the lace beneath it, exposing me to the cold air of the private room.

He didn't stop; he ran the flat, cold side of the knife blade slowly down the sensitive skin between my legs, tracing the shape of me until he reached the lace again, pressing the metal firmly against me.

"You’ve been a bad, bad girl," he growled, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that made my blood run cold and hot all at once.

"And you know well that when a lass acts out, she deserves a punishment."

He leaned in close, his nose brushing against mine, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic, twisted pleasure.

"Please, Sir..." I gasped, my voice trembling, tears pricking at my eyes from the sheer intensity of the sensation. "I... I’ll never do that again, I swear..."

He jammed the dull, cold steel of the blade between my legs, and a sharp, shuddering moan tore from my chest. My fingers dug deep into his velvet-clad shoulders, my knuckles turning white as I fought to steady myself against his relentless dominance.

Jimmy let out a harsh, jagged laugh, his eyes darkening with a feverish, cruel delight. He leaned in, his stubble grazing my ear as he whispered, "Oh, aye? You’re beggin’ now, are ye? I love that, lass. I love hearin’ you plead when you know you’re mine."

He held the handle of the knife with a steady, practiced hand, the cold metal shifting inside me. He began to twist it, the flat, rounded pommel of the blade pressing firmly against my sensitive folds, working them in a rhythmic, deliberate massage that forced me to arch my back against him. Every time I whimpered, he’d press harder, his thumb tracing the lace he’d torn, ensuring I couldn't escape his touch.

"You’re beggin’ like a good little thing," he crooned, his Scottish brogue thick and syrupy, dripping with malice and desire. "But you know the rules, Sunshine. A dance for another man... that’s a debt you’ve gotta pay. And I’m the only one who collects."

He increased the pressure of the blade, his movements becoming more frantic and demanding. The contrast between the cold metal and the heat of his skin against mine was maddening, leaving me completely undone.

"Does it feel good, being broken in, lass?" he growled against my neck, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

-You think you can dance for others huh? Your mine!

“Yes, yes Sir” - I moaned loudly and started bucking my hips into a blade. It was a strange cold feeling but I liked it.

My eyes were open when he dig not one not two, but three fingers inside you and burred them deep

"Yes... yes, Sir!" I shrieked, the sound muffled by my own gasps as I began to buck my hips against the rhythmic slide of the steel. It was a bizarre, chilling sensation—that razor-cold metal tracing my heat—but it sparked a fire in me that I couldn't extinguish.

Jimmy’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he watched me fall apart for him. He moved faster, his movements jagged and unrelenting. To get better access, he splayed me wide with his gold-ringed fingers, his grip bruising against my inner thighs.

SLAP.

The sharp, stinging impact of his open palm against my sensitive skin made me cry out, my head whipping back.

"Count, lass," he hissed, his Scottish accent like a serrated blade. "Count the payment for your sin."

"O-one," I sobbed, my voice trembling.

He struck me again, harder, the heat radiating where he hit. "Two."

With every strike, the contrast between the freezing blade and the burning sting of his palm sent waves of liquid pleasure through me. I was melting, my body betraying me, soaking the velvet of his tracksuit. By the time I reached ten, the world was a blur of neon and pain. Tears tracked through my smudged mascara, leaving dark, ruined streaks down my cheeks.

"Good girl," he growled, the praise dripping with possessive malice. "Now... come for me."

I didn't have to be told twice. My control shattered. But Jimmy wasn't finished with the game. Just as I crested, he shoved not one, not two, but three of his fingers deep inside me, burying them to the knuckles, anchoring me to his lap. He felt me spasm and collapse around him, a shuddering, ruined mess.

He leaned forward, his face inches from mine, his blue eyes icy and burning with a terrifying, absolute claim.

"You think you can dance for another, eh?" he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that echoed in my bones. "You think you’re free to be looked at by the likes of that rat?"

He twisted his fingers inside me, making me gasp and arch my back.

"Look at me, Sunshine. Keep your eyes on me! You’re mine. My little toy, my little prize

He didn't slow his pace; if anything, he became more relentless, his fingers pumping in and out of me with a rhythmic, demanding force that left me gasping for air. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of friction and heat that climbed higher and higher until my head fell back, my eyelids fluttering toward the white, and my vision splintered into shards of neon light.

"Look at ye," he rasped, his Scottish brogue thick with a mix of cruel adoration and unbridled lust. "Like a fallen angel, darlin'. Old Nick himself would love ya, aye... he'd love to drag a prize like you down to the depths."

I couldn't help the sound that tore from my throat—a shattered, broken moan that echoed against the small, cramped walls of the room. The tide of pleasure hit me, a violent, electric surge that radiated from where his fingers were buried deep inside. I lost all ability to hold myself together; my body began to tremble, every muscle locked in a frantic, uncontrollable spasm.

"Oh yes! Oh, yeeeeees!" I cried out, my voice cracking under the intensity.

Jimmy’s expression shifted, his face twisting into a mask of triumph as he watched me completely unravel. He didn't pull back—he pressed deeper, feeding on my reaction, drinking in the sight of his "Sunshine" broken and gasping on his lap. He thrived on it, the way I completely surrendered to the punishment and the pleasure alike.

"That's it, lass," he growled, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against my skin. "Give it all to me.

He didn't give me a moment to catch my breath. His fingers coiled into my hair, pulling sharply until my head tilted back, exposing my throat to him. He dragged me off the sofa and across the floor, forcing me onto the small, circular platform at the base of the pole.

When the haze of the orgasm finally started to recede, I cracked my eyes open. His purple velour jacket lay on the floor, and his white tank top was damp with exertion. His trousers were slung dangerously low, exposing the raw, thick dick. I wasn't sure if my body could handle more, but the electric charge between us was intoxicating. Even through the fear, a desperate, dark craving pulsed in my stomach, demanding more of his sadistic attention.

"Do the pose," he rasped. His Scottish brogue was heavy, thick with the weight of his command.

My knees hit the platform with a dull thud. I reached up, my palms sliding against the cold metal of the pole, and twisted my torso. I arched my spine, letting my weight shift until my curves were perfectly displayed for him. I felt like a sacrificial offering, waiting for the blade.

Jimmy loomed over me, his silhouette casting a long, jagged shadow across the neon-soaked room. He paced slowly, He didn't touch me yet; he simply let his gaze crawl over the reddened skin of my inner thighs and the ruined lace of my lingerie.

"Aye, look at ye," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating growl that seemed to echo inside my very bones. "A broken little doll, waitin' to be told her worth."

He stepped between my splayed legs, his knees pinning my thighs into the platform. He reached out, his calloused palm tracing the line of my hipbone, his heavy gold rings scraping ever so slightly against my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

He tightened his grip on my hair just enough to command my absolute attention.

"Look at me," he demanded, his blue eyes flashing with a terrifying, possessive intensity.

The friction was maddening, his heavy, thick cock stretching me to my absolute limit. I gasped as he hit every sensitive pussy nerve, his rhythm brutal and calculated. He knew exactly how to make me unravel, and I loved every agonizing second of it.

He lunged forward, teeth baring as he sank them into the soft skin of my shoulder. The sting was electric—a sharp, searing heat—and before the pain could even register, I felt his tongue dragging over the puncture, lapping up the tiny, crimson beads of blood. The taste of copper and sweat was intoxicating. His pace accelerated, his hips slamming into mine with a relentless, mechanical force. My body was a ruin of pleasure, my walls spasming and hungrily swallowing him, clutching at him as if I couldn't bear to let him out.

"Aye, that's it, lass!" he growled, his voice a guttural, primal sound vibrating against my neck. "Swallow it all! You’re mine, you hear me? Only mine!"

The room blurred. The pink and purple neons danced behind my eyelids, dissolving into white-hot flashes. I couldn't stop the moans; they ripped from my throat, raw, sloppy, and unbidden. My head was spinning as his pace became manic, a desperate, driving rhythm that left me no room to breathe.

Suddenly, he gripped my hips, his gold-ringed fingers digging into my flesh, and he thrust deep, burying himself to the hilt. A low, animalistic snarl tore from his chest as he surged, spilling his white sperm into me, filling me until I felt like I was being claimed from the inside out. I collapsed against the pole, my knees giving out as a tidal wave of pleasure shattered what was left of my composure.

He didn't pull away. He held me pinned, his chest heaving, his breath ragged and hot against my ear. As his pulse began to slow, he leaned in, his lips wet and stained, and pressed a firm, territorial kiss against the mark he’d left on my shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to catch my gaze in the cyber-mirror. His face was a mask of dark, triumphant hunger, his eyes burning with an icy, possessive flame. He reached down and roughly dragged his discarded purple velour jacket off the floor, wrapping it around my shoulders, effectively cocooning me in his scent—the smell of expensive alcohol, steel, and him.

He swept me up into his arms, ignoring the mess we’d made, ignoring the club outside.

🌻 | Pairing: Remmick x Fem!Reader  - One Shot/Blurb, A.U. (No Beta)

🌻 | A.N.: Just another Blurb. Smut/Porn with no plot. I tried to make the Reader's appearance as neutral as possible to be inclusive, so I hope I succeeded. Also, I know I said I'd post the 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 Fic this month but I've decided to post next month, probably around the first or second week of July. So sorry to those who were looking forward to it! Please enjoy! Likes, Comments & Reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you in advance to those who take the time to read! 🖤💛

🌻 | Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Fingering, Possessive!Remmick, Oral (F Receiving), PiV, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex, Praise, Dirty Talk, Kissing, Creampie.

🌻 | Summary: Remmick can't help but admire you in your Sundress.

🌻 | W.C.: 967

🌻 | Dividers Credits: @uzmacchiato @dollywons

MASTERLIST

You couldn't help but steal glances at him as you walked back from your routine evening walks, your sundress clinging just enough to every curve to make your skin prickle with awareness. The fabric was thin, almost sheer in the light, and you could feel his gaze like a caress, hot and hungry, tracing the outline of your body.

He didn’t even try to hide it, his usual blue-grey eyes glowing that telltale red, his southern accent dripping with mischief as he drawled, "Lil' minx, you know damn well what you’re doin’ to me in that dress."

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your thighs at the rough edge in his voice. "I-I didn’t think you’d notice," you lied, because you both knew you wanted him to. Wanted him to peel you out of it the second you got home and see for yourself just how little you'd bothered with panties today.

The moment the front door clicked shut behind you, he backed you against the wall, his hands roughly gripped your hips.

His breath was hot against your ear. "Oh, I noticed, alright. Noticed how every fucker on the street had to stop and stare at what’s mine." His fingers slid up your thigh, hitching the hem of your dress higher, until his fingertips grazed bare skin.

"Fuck, darlin'," he groaned, voice thick with hunger. "You’re bare as the day you were born under this dress."

A whimper escaped you as his thumb pressed against your clit, already swollen and aching for him. "You—you can’t just—"

"Can’t just what?" He nipped at your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make your knees weak. "Can’t just take what’s mine?" His fingers slipped lower, teasing your entrance, collecting the wetness already dripping for him. "You’re soaked, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this all damn day, ain’tcha?"

You gasped as two thick fingers pushed inside, curling just right to make you shudder. "Y-yes," You panted, nails digging into his shoulders. "God, Remmick—"

"God ain’t got nothin’ to do with this," he growled, withdrawing his fingers only to shove them back in, harder and deeper. "This is all me, all mine. And I ain’t stoppin’ 'til you’re screamin' my name so loud the neighbors hear."

He dropped to his knees in front of you, yanking your dress up over your hips so he could feast his eyes on you, on your glistening pussy, swollen and needy for his mouth.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your skin before his tongue dragged a slow, torturous line up your slit. "So fuckin’ pretty like this." His hands gripped your ass, pulling you closer, his tongue diving in to fuck you slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, hips rolling against his face as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. "Remmick—oh fuck—I’m gonna—"

"That’s it, baby," he growled against you, his voice vibrating right against your clit. "Cum for me. Cum all over my tongue."

His fingers joined his mouth, thrusting into you in time with his tongue’s wicked strokes, and you shattered with a cry, your thighs trembling as you rode out the waves of your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, though. He lapped at you through every aftershock, growling like a man starved as he stood up and wiped his glistening mouth with the back of his hand. "So damn good," he rasped, his red eyes burning into yours. "And I ain’t nearly done with you yet."

Before you could catch your breath, he spun you around, pressing you face-first against the wall. The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the zipper lowering, had your pulse spiking all over again. "You took my fingers so well," he murmured, his cock nudging at your entrance from behind. "Let’s see how you take my cock."

And then he was inside you in one hard thrust, filling you so completely you could only gasp as he bottomed out.

"Fuck—you’re so tight," he groaned, his hips snapping against your ass as he set a punishing pace. One hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back, while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Do I feel good, baby?" He purred, his voice rough with possession.

"Y-yes," you whimpered, your fingers scrambling against the wall for purchase.

"That’s right," he growled, slamming into you so hard the whole damn wall shook. "Take every fuckin’ inch." His free hand slid around to rub rough circles over your clit, and you came again with a broken cry, your walls clamping down around him so tight he snarled curses against your skin.

The scenery changed too fast for your eyes to catch as he tossed you onto your back on the couch, his cock glistened with your arousal as he loomed over you. "Gonna make sure you can't walk afterwards," he promised, and then he was inside you again, deeper this time, the rhythm of his hips had you seeing stars.

His mouth crashed onto yours, and you met every thrust with a roll of your own hips. Your body was slick with sweat and need. "Remmick—I can’t—"

"You can," you growled against your lips, his fingers digging into your thighs as he lifted them higher, changing the angle so he hit that sweet spot inside over and over. "Don't fight it."

The pressure built again, coiling tighter and hotter.

You came with a muffled cry, walls pulsing around him rhythmically as your arousal leaked onto him and down between your ass. His pace faltered as he chased his own release. The feeling of him twitching wildly with each spurt had you trembling uncontrollably as he emptied himself deep inside.