#bratting

That kid had a hard swing. Pressing your hand against the side of your head as you stumbled to your feet, blood was soaked into the fingers of your glove. Your blood was soaked into the fingers of your glove. Gritting your teeth, you unhooked your walkie-talkie from your belt, flicking the shitty power button on the side to on.

“Where the fuck are you guys?” You asked into the radio, beginning to track after the small trail of blood the target had made, grabbing the pipe he had foolishly dropped. You were proud of the fact that you were able to stab him at least once. “He got the jump on me.”

The radio crackled as you heard Toby cackle, feeling your blood pressure skyrocket at the idea he found amusement in what you could only assume was a gash on your head, the prick always laughing at the most annoying times. Then again, he was always annoying, even if you had gotten used to his presence years ago. “Where’s he?” Brian’s voice came through the static, cutting through Toby’s laughter.

Stopping at the landing of some stairs, your eyes followed the blood droplets upwards. “He’s heading towards you. I’m not that far behind…” You believed you weren’t anyway. Your head dropped, pressing the walkie-talkie to your temple as you groaned. The operator had to be somewhere nearby for your headache to be this severe, breathing in slowly through your nose as you attempted to keep yourself steady. You knew that something came in via the radio, but you couldn’t feel the ground underneath your feet, your body not feeling much of anything and yet seeing it all in a blinding flash of colours that made your head throb, yet closing your eyes didn’t stop it.

Wind rushed pass your ears, your eyes shooting open in time to see that you were beginning to fall down the stairs, unsure of how you came to be in this situation but you braced yourself for impact, bringing your arms up to protect your head from any more damage. Your sense of touch came back, feeling an arm jerk around your waist and pull you back onto the landing, smelling the familiar scent of cigerettes without needing to look behind to know it was Tim. Rolling off of him, his mask was askew, seeing through one of the eye holes his dark eyes that was narrowed.

“I told you to wait for backup. What the fuck were you doing?” He asked, the annoyance clearer than glass in his voice as he looked at you, but as you tore your own mask off to get some air into your system better, you realised that your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat you hadn’t noticed before. He sat there, studying you for a moment before he pushed his mask up, his lips pressed into a thin line as he studied your face again, this time without the mask. “You weren’t lying about him getting the upper hand.”

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ you wanted to say, but before it could come out of your mouth, Tim had already grabbed something out of his pocket to press against your head, knocking your train of thought off the rails and reminding you that you were injured. “Fuck you!” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at Tim, but he didn’t react to your insult, wiping away the blood that had dripped down the side of your face.

Despite the fact you both were forced to kill against your will, it was moments like this that you cherished, letting your eyes close for a moment, appreciating the gentle touch before it was ripped from you, a gun pointed under your chin.

Mother fucker.

“Really?” You grumbled, your brows pinching together as he stared at you.

“You were letting your guard down,” Was all he said, though as he pulled the gun away you decided to test fate, grabbing the tip of it between your teeth, grinning at him as he paused, staring at you.

“What?” You said, biting down a bit more on the gun, “Caught you off guard?” Though he didn’t show it much, you got under his skin more times than you liked to admit, especially as your lips locked around the gun, pushing yourself closer to Tim.

You could see the Adam’s apple in his throat bob at the sight, unsure if he wanted to rip the gun out of your mouth (and take a few teeth with it) or shove it further down your throat. Opening your mouth, you dragged your tongue along the flat side on the bottom, smiling as best as you could, feeling him apply just a bit more pressure against your tongue.

“Are you choosing to be a brat now just to get back at me?” You shrugged your shoulders at Tim’s question, watching as he twisted the gun in your mouth to press up against the roof of it. “What’s stopping me from blowing your brains out right here, right now?”

“I have a great pussy?”

Despite the fact that your words were muffled by the gun, you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, realising how stupid it sounded — but it was sort of true, he did come back time and time again to fuck you, especially now as he pulled the gun out of your mouth before seizing you by the front of your shirt, dragging you across the ground and away from the stairs. You held onto his wrists to relieve some of the pressure off your shirt, and your neck, before you were hoisted up and onto your feet, pressed against a pillar.

“Alright then, because you want to play so smart…”

Tim easily was able to pin you against a surface without trying, his body much bigger compared to yours as he braced one of his arms against your chest, dangling the gun, still wet with your saliva, on his fingers as he reached into his jacket. You weren’t surprised to find that he had his cigarettes on him or his lighter, especially as he pressed the filter between his lips and lit it up, the warmth of the lighter’s flame licking the tip of your nose before it was snapped shut again. He always smelt like a chimney, even more so as he blew the smoke in your face after his first inhale.

“Don’t like it?” he asked as you crinkled your nose at the all too familiar smell. “Good.”

A part of you loved the high that came with knowing that the smoke came from his mouth, the other part hated the fact that you got wet at the thought of him forcing your lips open and shotgunning it straight into your mouth, knowing that it would burn no matter what — but it was Tim’s smoke, and Tim was smoking hot either way, especially now as he switched the hands he held the gun in, tapping it on the side of your head as he kept you pinned.

He was thinking, he was thinking hard; his brown eyes were calculating on what exactly to do as he studied your facial features, like a hunter did to their prey, watching as his lips curved with a thought as he dragged the gun down your cheek, your neck, feeling the pressure of the tip of it through your clothes as he dragged it all the way down to the waist of your pants.

“Off.”

No suggestion, no please, a command came from his lips like a dog biting down on its prize, your fingers trembling as you focused on your waistband, keeping your eyes locked on him as you slid them as far down as you could with his elbow digging into your clothing. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough for Tim to hum a satisfied noise, smoke coming through his nose as he relieved some of the pressure on your chest, allowing you to breathe a bit better.

You immediately lost your oxygen when you felt the gun press against your most intimate parts.

Despite the fact it had been in your mouth only minutes earlier, it was already ice cold, Tim’s eyes crinkling at the edges as he pressed the gun further against your pussy, pressing his thumb against your clit as he did so. If that thing went off between your thighs, fuck his healing bullshit, that would hurt — and it wouldn’t be so easy to explain why you were bleeding out of your ass compared to your head.

He seemed to notice your alarm, laughing, blowing a billow of smoke in your face that you struggled to breathe through. “I won’t shoot you,” Tim said, though as his smirk grew so did your fear, “on purpose, at least.” He wouldn’t shoot you, right? You couldn’t look down to see if his finger was on the trigger or if the safety was on, but as you felt it drag through your folds, your shoulders shuddering at the feeling, knowing that it was one finger squeeze away from lighting up between your thighs, you knew that you were getting wetter at the contact.

You loved and hated your stupid body, especially as Tim’s gaze darkened, realising how into this you were.

“You’re a fuckin’ whore,” he cackled, the gun shifting to rub the tip against your clit, barely grazing it with each pass. “Probably wishing this was me, yeah?” You did, you wanted it to be his warm cock pressing against your slit right now, threatening to bully your walls open with the blunt head, but your words died on your tongue as he, with his inhumane strength, pushed you further up the pillar, forcing you to look down at him as you could feel the gun press at your opening. “Too bad.”

Your body had warmed the gun where it had touched you, but everything else about it was still cold, shocking your system for a moment as he pushed it between your folds, feeling the harsh edges scrape against your innermost walls, bringing brief tears to your eyes as your body was forced to warm the object. It eventually faded away as he pressed it inside until you felt the trigger guard press against your flushed skin, settling there for a moment before he began to fuck it slowly in and out. He still wasn’t showing any fatigue from holding you up, his arm remaining firm against your chest, acting as if he was just watching television as he made a show of twisting the gun inside of you. It felt good, too good, letting out small whimpers and whines as your body shuddered and tingles went through your limbs.

“If you shoot me—!” Your threat was cut off as his lips pressed against yours, the cigarette probably somewhere on the ground as he blew the foul-smelling smoke from his mouth into yours. You were forced to inhale it in, feeling as it burnt your lungs and made them cry out in pain that felt good, watching as it passed your eyes as he pulled away.

“Where did all that bratty energy go, hm?” Maybe it was the fact your blood was beginning to pool towards your feet, or maybe your heart was beating so fast that you could hear what remained of your blood roar past your ears. You were already so close, the knot of fear turning into something else that sat in the pit of your stomach as you breathlessly moaned, squeezing your eyes shut to block out the smug looking man in front of you — it did little to help, only intensifying the feeling of him between your thighs. “Aw, you’re trying so hard not to cum, yeah?”

You nodded your head, the little bit of that defiant energy still living inside, though it was quickly dismissed as you felt yourself drop — his arm was on your throat now, pressing against it.

“You’ll either pass out or cum all over this gun like a good whore.”

Fuck. He knew what got your blood rushing even hotter, struggling to breathe as his arm braced more against your jaw than your neck, but it still did the same. Keeping his pace with the gun, he made it firmer against your walls, harsher. Your hands flew up to his arm to try and relieve some of the pressure, grunting as his body pressed more against you once more, your head growing more light headed by the second before your legs locked up, feeling that knot give way, breaking as you felt your cunt spasm. You were cumming, white hot and hard, letting out little groans with what air you still had before you were dropped, falling onto your knees as you coughed and wheezed.

Head spinning, you felt him wipe the gun against your jacket.

“We’re not done yet,” Tim chuckled, “but we’ll have to wait… the others have been trying to find us.” Hearing your names crackle over the radio, Tim pulled his mask back over his face before he started walking away. You fixed yourself, quickly following after Tim, though this time with more a wobble in your step.

You explained it to the others by saying that you may have gotten a concussion.

You also drove your pipe into the target’s very dead balls as a 'fuck you'.