#dark!timothee

"Hey, little lady," a man's gravelly voice calls out. "Why don't you keep the show going and take the rest off." The man laughs, but it's cut short by a painful sounding cough.

You pick up speed, your Converse slapping the pavement as you quickly turn into an alley, hoping to lose him by your abrupt change in direction, but a thick hand grabs your wrist.

"Let me go!" You yell, attempting to yank your wrist from his sweaty grip.

The man seems to enjoy the struggle, he tightens his fingers around your wrist as he pushes you into a warm brick wall. A tall streetlamp shines an eerie orange light into the alley, barely illuminating the man's features. He's got dark hair, stringy with sweat and grease. One of his eyes is missing and the other is open wide. He looks hungry. Ravenous. And the laugh that rumbles in his throat is truly sinister.

"Keep goin', darlin'. I love a good fight."

Then his tongue is on your neck, tasting your skin. You sob and gag as you inhale the scent of his breath. Sour with alcohol and something metallic.

"Come on, honey. Don't fight me, I just wanna taste-"

"Hey!" A new man's voice yells. "Hey, get off her!"

The man's grip on your wrist loosens enough for you to pull away from him. You take your chance and make a run for it. You dropped your bag of money when Man Number One shoved you against the wall, but you can't risk turning back around. You just have to make it ou-

You're stopped short by a hand in your hair, pulling your head back, bending you almost in half. You scream as Man Number One drags you. He's pulling you by your hair, your heels dig into the ground in front of you, desperately attempting to gain some traction. Your only view is upside down and distorted through the tears building up in your eyes. But, in the dim orange light you see the other man. He's peeling himself off of the ground and his nose is dripping blood onto a forest green crop top. His jeans are shredded, exposing a large amount of his legs, you're not sure if it's because he just fell or if the jeans are just naturally like that or why you're even wondering about the nature of his jeans. He's got a brick in his hand that he's attempting to hide, but even upside down you can see it. You see him look down at you and for some reason he winks. Then you realize, Man Number One can't see him.

Crop Top walks creeps up onto Man Number Two, like a lion stalking his prey. Then, without warning, he slams the brick into the side of his skull with a wet crunch. Instantly, you're dropped to the ground and as much as the landing hurt, the relief feels twice as good. Your scalp throbs and you're sure you're missing a chunk of hair. A set of light footsteps run toward you, and immediate dread sets in again, but it's Crop Top. He grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder. You're not sure if you should be scared or relieved as he places you behind a dark green dumpster.

Crop Top kneels down, looking over his shoulder once to make sure Man Number One is still down.

"Is he-"

"Not yet. Stay here. Don't move until I come get you," Crop Top says. He drops a plastic bag next to you. The money. You're immediately shocked he didn't take it for himself. That's what most people would do. His knees pop a little as he stands back up. He starts to walk off but stops. "And don't watch."

Don't watch? Isn't that like an automatic invitation to watch? You think to yourself. You lean your head back on the brick and close your eyes. You could run right now. You could take your money and get a room for the night and leave this odd encounter right here in this alley, but you don't. Instead, you poke your head out, peeking from the side of the dumpster.

Immediately you wish you hadn't. Crop Top somehow dragged Man Number One and sat him up against the brick wall, maybe 15 feet from where you're sitting. How he did it, you're not sure. Crop Top probably weights 120 pounds soaking wet, but he's managed to maneuver him just right so that he can...

You pop your head back behind the dumpster, unsure of what you just saw. There's no way...

You poke your head out, peeking again. There's a squelching sound, followed by a spatter of blood coming from Man Number One's neck as Crop Top bites into it.

Okay, yeah. He's definitely eating him. This should definitely be a sign to run, right? But you aren't moving. Everything in you is screaming to run. Run the fuck away because this dude is going to eat you next. But you don't. You sit there alternating from watching and hiding. It's like one of those car accidents you can't help but watch, hoping you'll see a dead body, or some fucked up shit like that. You shouldn't want to look, but you do.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you hear footsteps approaching. You sit up straighter against the brick. His stops in front of you. His white high tops covered in blood and gore. Why would he pick white shoes to wear if he's going around munching on dudes.

"You looked, didn't you?" Crop Top asks.

"I uh..." you risk a look at his face. It's covered in blood. His upper lip, his mouth and his chin are coated in it. You swallow hard. "What are you?"

Crop Top crouches down again, eye level with you. "A person like you," he smiles. "Name's Lee." He holds out a bloody hand. You look down at it then back at him. "Oh," Lee says, wiping his hand off on his shirt, then offers it again. Still just as bloody as before.

"Are you gonna eat me too?" The question falls out of your mouth, you can't stop it. Word vomit.

Lee scrunches up his face, pursing his lips as he tilts his head to the side, contemplating your question. "Mmmm, probably not. Unless you've done something really shitty..." Lee eyes your bag of money with an arched eyebrow and you shift a little.

"My name's Y/N."

"You work at K-mart, Y/N?"

"No," you answer too quickly.

"I've seen you there. A lot."

"I don't work there anymore," you say. "You've been watching me?"

"Every day for like two weeks or some shit," Lee says, like it's no big deal. Though up against eating a whole human, it's probably not. "That your first-time stealing from money from your job?"

You open your mouth, the urge to defend yourself creeping up your throat, but you cut it short. You just watched this man eat someone.

"It's my first time," you admit.

"No shit? Well, Y/N, there's a first time for everything." At this point you notice the grey grocery bag he's carrying. It's full and tied up, dripping slightly with thick red liquid. "Bones and shit," Lee says, and tosses the bag into the dumpster. It lands with a heavy, wet thud. "You got anywhere to be tonight, y/n?"

"Not really, no."

"Not really?"

"I'm homeless," you admit.

"Perfect, let's go."

This time Lee grabs your hand and pulls you up. You grab your bag of money and walk with him looking behind you every so often to make sure no one is following.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"For a ride," Lee says smiling as he jangles a pair of car keys in front of your face. "Nabbed these off of fuck face back there before he tried to eat you."

"He tried to-"

"Oh, he was going to eat you real good. You're lucky I've been following you."

"How-"

"Shh save your questions, I'll answer all of them when we find his car."

"We're gonna steal his car too?" You ask. The amount of crime you've been involved in today is beginning to overwhelm you.

"You've never stolen a car?"

You shake your head.

Lee smiles. "I think we're gonna have a lot of first times, Y/N."

He pulls away from you and you’re already breathless. The elevator dings, indicating a stop, but one of his long arms travel behind him. He uses one finger and presses down on the “door close” button. It beeps twice in protest, but begins traveling to the next floor. Timothee presses the “number 25” button. The highest floor in the building.

“Turn around for me, baby girl. I’m dying to get inside that tight pussy of yours.” He’s already unzipping his pants and the kiss he gave you has you more than ready for him.

You turn around, arching your back so your tits press agains the corner and your ass sticks at the perfect angle. Your fingers hook under the hem of your dress and you pull it up, resting the fabric at your hips. Timothee’s fingers hook into your panties before you get a chance to do it your self. He’s eager today.

“What if someone comes in?” You ask, anxiety creeping back up. You’re quite sure you can get arrested for this. Or at least fined.

“I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your panties are around your ankles and you hear a the heavy clunk of Timothee’s pants and belt hit the floor. You can already feel the heat of his body as your spread your legs and arch your back even more in anticipation for his cock.

“Fuck your pussy is so perfect, baby.”

You hear him lick his hand and your already moaning as you wait for him to touch you. You’re already dripping for him, but he takes his the four fingers he’s just licked and runs them under you starting at your clit, sliding through your slick folds and finally gripping your ass.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes. “So wet for me, huh?”

“Mhmm” you moan.

You’re about to beg him to fuck you, when you feel the head of his cock brush your entrance. You want to push back onto him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Timothee slams his cock inside of you so hard it knocks the breath out of you.

“Fuuuuck,” Timothee moans. His fingers and gripping your ass so hard you’re sure he’s going to l leave small finger tip shaped bruises on your skin. He’s pulling out, adjusting his grip on your ass as he says, “don’t expect this to be gentle.”

He pulls all the way out of you and removes a hand from your ass. Judging from the wet sounds, he’s pumping his cock a the sight of your pussy, edging himself closer to a quicker orgasm.

Soon enough you feel the head of his cock again as he slams hard into you. Your head smacks against the wall as you both groan.

“Good,” you say “don’t be gentle. Fuck me like you hate me.”

You stopped in your tracks, not expecting him to keep asking questions. It annoyed you. You rolled your eyes.

"It was Jake, wasn't it?"

"H-how'd you know?"

"That fucker's been trying to get into your pants the moment he arrived on set," Timothee said with a certain lethality that made your insides quiver. He got up, pulled a pair of gray sweats on and shoved unsocked feet into a pair of shoes.

"Uhm, where are you going?"

"To tell him your off limits."

He was already at the door, his hand twisting the knob when you ran in front of him, sliding between the hotel door and Timothee's body. There was heat radiating off of him - a mixture of anger and arousal - and it made you want him more than ever.

"He didn't try anything," you said, moving your palms from the door to his chest. His heart was hammering against your hands. Timothee was never super confrontational. In fact, you'd never seen him act this way until now. Possessive, jealous, angry.

You liked it.

"Yet," Timothee hissed. "If I don't tell him right now that you're mine and only mine, what's to stop him touching you next time? Kissing you next time? I can't have that."

You decided not to tell him about the hair touching.

"He doesn't we're seeing each other, Tim."

"Well then allow me to educate him."

His hand went for the knob again and he pulled open slightly even with your full weight pressed against it. You slammed your back against the door, slamming it shut again.

"Timothee, you know we can't tell anyone yet."

Timothee sighed, "I'm sick of other men looking at you thinking they can have you. They fucking undress you with their eyes and I want to hurt all of them. It makes me sick, y/n. They can't have you."

You never noticed men looking at you, but clearly, he did, and it ate him up inside. It was evident that this was something that had been bothering him for a while. Something that he'd been keeping to himself. You were about to tell him how you didn't want anyone else but him. How you'd pick him over-

Timothee smashed his lips into yours, hard. The back of your head bumped against the door, with a soft thud. His hands traveled up your shirt and under your bra. He grabbed your tits and squeezed them possessively. He wrapped his tongue around yours. You didn't bother fighting him for dominance. He needed to be the dominate one right now. He needed to know that you were his and you wanted him to feel powerful.

He kissed you like that, against the door, hands roaming your body for what felt like a blissful eternity. Then, one of his hands traveled down until it made its way into your pants. He rubbed you over your panties, which you had already soaked through. Timothee groaned at the feeling.

"So wet for me already, baby?" Timothee said, his voice a gravelly whisper.

"Need you," you whined.

He pulled his hand out enough to dip it back down into your panties. He ran a single finger through your slick center, grazing your clit. You hitched your breath at the contact. You needed more.

"Please," you moaned.

"Please what?"

"Touch me, please," you said, shamelessly swiveling your hips, desperate for his touch.

A slightly calloused index finger found your clit. He alternated between slow, deliciously agonizing circles and quick swipes up and down. Your legs shook as you approached an orgasm. You let out quick, breathy sighs until your back arched and your clit throbbed against his fingertips.

Already, your legs were weak when he withdrew his hand, glistening fingers covered in your fluids. Timothee raised his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

"What a good girl," Timothee praised.

You reached for the waistband of his sweats, his cock pressing against the fabric, begging to be freed. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted his dick in your mouth. But Timothee had other plans. He gently swatted your hand away and began undressing you and when you stood there naked, he pulled his shirt off, and shoved his pants down to his ankles.

Your eyes glanced over at the bed, but Timothee shook his head.

"I'm fucking you against this door."

Before you had a chance to argue, he grabbed you under your ass, your back pressed against the door again, only this time your feet were off the ground. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, leaving your pussy waiting for his entrance.

Timothee shifted you slightly, allowing his cock to slide in with minimal effort.

"If I can't tell anyone you're mine. They can listen the sound of me claiming you."

He pulled his cock out and slid back in hard with each word.

"All. Night. Long."

You could already feel your pussy clenching around him, this angle making him brush against your G-spot with every slide back in.

"Don't worry though, you make the prettiest little sounds when you come."

As if on cue, your eyes rolled back and you dug your nails into Timothee's shoulders, not caring about the nail marks you were leaving in his muscles. Timothee pulled out of you, letting you ride out your orgasm, and denying himself of his.

"You didn't-"

"No. Not yet. I'm not done with you yet."

A thud on the other side of the door made you yelp.

"Keep it down, assholes!"

You snorted, knowing exactly who it was on the other side.

"Is that Jake?" Timothee mouthed.

You nodded.

Without warning, Timothee shoved his cock deep inside of you. You gasped at the sudden impact.

"Oh, FUCK, y/n!" Timothee moaned loudly.

You knew exactly what he was doing, and you didn't care at all.

It echos, bouncing off of walls that might as well be nonexistent. I squint my eyes, as if that will somehow make up for the lack of light in…wherever I am. Where’s the sound coming from? I turn my body. More darkness but this time there’s a door, only put into view by the light that’s shining from behind the frame, allowing the tiniest bit of soft yellow light to illuminate the darkness.

Snap-snap-snap

It’s louder now. More rapid and urgent. The light behind the door is interrupted by shadows. Four of them in what I realize are feet. Who do they belong to?

“She’s just a child,” a woman says. Her voice is soft and familiar.

“A child that needs to learn, Vanessa,” another familiar voice says. It’s one I should know. One I do know but I’ve locked in the farthest recesses of my mind. And Vanessa. I definitely knew a Vanessa.”

“Randall,” Vanessa warns. “Don’t hurt her.” She sounds nervous now and I find myself scooting on my ass desperate to get as far away from the door as possible.

Snap-snap-snap

This time the sounds are accompanied with something new. Shaking. I’m shaking. I can feel it.

“I’m not going to hurt her, dumb ass,” Randall says, his tone highly annoyed, like he’s talking to someone small and stupid and pathetic. “I’m going to teach her. A few minutes with me is all she’ll need.”

The door opens and I see Vanessa’s shadow on the wall as she leaves. Then Randall comes into view only I can’t see him. He’s just a massive shadow. A void in front of the yellow light of the hallway. He stands there menacingly, and I realize I’m still scooting away. I scoot, and scoot, and scoot but my back never presses against a corner or a wall or…anything. I'm trying so hard to get away, but I can’t. It’s like I’m moving backward on a treadmill with no end in sight. Then, the shadow lunges for me, his hands like claws fully extended and ready to-

“Y/N!”

Snap-snap-snap

I gasp and my eyes shoot open. I’m taking in gulps of air like I hadn’t even been breathing. I clutch my chest and sit up straight. It’s still dark but I can tell I’m in a car. Which is odd considering I’ve not been in a car in years.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man sitting in the drivers seat says. I know it’s Lee but my mind is fleeting so rapidly I can’t even look at him. I need to get out.

I jump, my heart pounding so quickly I feel like I’m about to vomit. I reach for the door handle of the moving car and pull.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Y/n, stop! Relax!” Lee's pulling me by my elbow which only makes me panic more.

“Let me out. Let me out. I gotta get out. Can’t breathe,” I say, gulping down air like it’s water.

“Okay, shit, I’ll pull over!”

He pulls over and I spill out of the car the before it’s fully stopped. I empty my stomach onto the ground as Lee puts the car into park. The car we stole. From the man he killed. And ate. Things start falling back into place and the events from earlier flood my brain. Lee slams his door, and I can hear his footsteps crunching against the gravel as he walks over to me. There’s still blood on his shirt. Immediately I gag, but nothing happens other than both sides of my ribcage painfully pressing together.

“Fuck,” Lee breathes out as if he’s exhausted. I look up at him and he’s running a hand through his hair. There’s blood caked under his fingernails. I gag again. “You good?”

“Your shirt,” I say though a shaky breath.

“What about it?”

“Can you get rid of it?”

“That’s the weirdest way I’ve been asked to get naked, but okay.”

“I don’t want to see you naked! Your shirt has blood on it from the man you killed!”

“ShhhHHH!!!” Lee shushes me. He’s starting to bring his filthy palm up to my face and I shake my head, baking away from him. “You can’t just scream that shit out loud, y/n, fuck.” Still, he takes off his shirt and laces it through a belt loop at his side. It won’ fix the disgusting state of his fingernails, but it will at least keep my gagging at bay. “And just so we’re clear, I killed him to save you. You’re welcome.”

Lee plops down onto the curb next to me. “You done puking? I wanna make sure I’m out of the splash zone.”

“I think I’m done,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I sit next to him and realize we’re on a highway. A dead one. It’s dark but not too dark, I can see my surroundings, which is nothing but highway for miles in between dense forest on both sides. Cicadas and crickets chirp in unison filling the night with their song. That’s enough to tell me we’re still in North Carolina.

“What was all that?” Lee asks.

“All what?”

“Well you whimpering in your sleep for starters.”

“I wasn’t whimpering!” I answer too quickly and way too defensively.

“Okay whatever the fuck it was, what was it?”

“I had a nightmare I think.”

Lee fishes a single cigarette from his pocket and lights it. “Damn,” he says after taking a long drag from it. He blows the smoke in the opposite direction of me. “Wanna talk about it?”

I open my mouth, then close it. I get nauseous even thinking of the pitch black room, the hauntingly familiar smell and voices. And the shadows. “Where are we?”

“About an hour away from Asheville,” Lee says, not seeming to mind my sudden change of subject. “Smoke?” He asks, holding his cigarette out to me between his thumb and index finger.

“Your hands are filthy.”

Lee takes his cigarette back and laughs. “You always this uptight?”

“Only after I see a man eat another human.”

“Ah you’re still stuck on that?”

“Of course I’m stuck on that! It’s not exactly normal, you know.”

“And yet you still got into a car with me. A stolen one at that.” Lee arches an eyebrow at me and smirks.

“Well, you saved me so.”

“So what?”

“I don’t know,” I say and stand back up. He’s getting on my nerves and I don’t know why.

“You and I,” Lee says straining his words as he stands up with me, “we’re not that different.”

“Oh yes we are.”

“Not really. Watch. You’ll see.”

“What do you mean ‘you’ll see’?”

Lee walks back to the car. He opens the door and stands on the the inside, resting his elbow on the hood of the car. “You hungry?”

I haven’t moved from my spot on the side of the road. I must have quite the expression on my face because he smirks at me again. And even though he’s filthy and a murderer I’m doing everything I can not to admit that he’s extremely attractive. I can’t get close to anyone. Definitely not someone like him. “What do you mean ‘you’ll see’?” I demand, I cross my arms and stand my ground.

Lee rolls his eyes, “I just mean you’ll see. Now come on, I want waffles and maybe a steak.”

Food sounds revolting to me right now. I don’t move.

“Jesus, y/n, what? You have somewhere else to go?”

I hate how he uses my name like he knows me so well. I hate that him saying my name at all does something to me it shouldn’t. He’s a murderer.

“Look,” Lee says pointing ahead of us into nothingness. “You can head that way into bum fuck nowhere or you can go back that way and go visit our little friend-well what’s left of him-back in that dumpster in Charlotte. And lemme tell ya, where there’s one of that guy, there’s hundreds. Walking around lurking in the shadows and you don’t even know they’re there or what they are until it’s too late. Or you can come with me. What’s it gonna be, y/n.”

He’s looking at me expectantly, knowing he’s already won. I sigh and make my way back to the car. I step over the mess I made and plop into the dirty passenger seat. We drive in silence for at least thirty minutes before Lee speaks up again. “Look, y/n, I’m not forcing you to come with me. If you’ve got somewhere to be or someplace you want me to drop you off just tell me, I’ll take you there.”

I look over at him, but he’s focused on the road, his dirty hands gripping the steering wheel. “Where are you going anyway?” I ask.

Lee shrugs, “I was gonna stop in Asheville first.”

“Why?”

Now he looks over at me. “I love it there.” He smiles and it’s a genuine one and I have to look away because it damn near melts my heart. “But if you want me to take you some place else first, I will.”

I sigh, looking at the blurry trees zipping by. I hope in my next life I’m a tree. “I don’t have anyone. Or anywhere to go.”

“No family?”

“No. Well none that give a shit about me.”

“No friends?”

“No.”

We’re both silent again, but it’s not the bad kind. It’s the kind that I’m comfortable with. And I can tell that he is too. Silence is golden.

“I knew it,” Lee finally says.

“Knew what?” I ask, taking my gaze away from the blur of trees to look at him again.

Lee turns and smiles at me, but this time I don’t look away. “That you’re a loner like me.”

We stare at each other for what feels like too long. Then, Lee shakes his head breaking out stare as he eases on the breaks and pulls into a Waffle House parking lot.

“Hope you like Waffle House,” Lee says as he clicks off his seatbelt. He walks around the car and opens my door for me, the action itself jarring. No one’s ever opened a door for me. I shove that thought to the back of my head, in a sad attempt to not let it do anything to me. He’d do that for anyone.

We scooted into a booth, Lee sitting across from me. “My sister and I used to come here all the time.”

I only nod as I look at the menu, choosing not to ask any follow up questions to his statement so that I don’t have to talk about my family in return.

“You got any siblings?”

I fight back a sigh. “Nope. Only child.”

“Really? Your childhood must’ve been lonely. My sister and I-”

The waitress, an old woman with frizzy blonde hair, shocking red lipstick and a name tag that read Deborah in handwritten cursive comes up to our table. She smacks her gum loud and I can see the lime green wad as she flicks it around with her tongue. As much as I am grateful she interrupted Lee’s family talk, I have to look away to keep myself from gagging. “What are you getting?”

“I’ll have the four waffles and a T-bone, medium rare, and a coffee. Black,” Lee says, practically salivating. Then looks over to me.

“Oh. Uh. I’ll just have a coffee I think.”

Deborah blows a massive bubble with her gum and looks at me like there’s got to be more to my order.

“I’ll give her one of my waffles,” Lee winks and hands Deborah our menus.

Deborah rolls her eyes and pockets her pen and note pad. Seconds later she brings back two steaming mugs of coffee. Lee drinks is straight apparently while I dump five sugars into mine and four of the tiny cups of creamer. In what seems like not long enough to cook an entire steak and four waffles, Deborah’s back in five minutes with Lee’s food and an extra plate for me. “Enjoy,” she says in a tone that sounds more like she hopes we choke on it. My stomach turns at the sight of the plate. Lee’s steak is sitting in a pool of brownish-red liquid. The bottom waffle in the stack of four is soggy with the blood and liquid that seeped out of the steak as it cooked. I look into my coffee to escape the sight.

“So-”

“Please tell me you’re going to wash your hands.”

Lee smirks. “Right. Of course. Be right back. That top waffle is for you if you want it.”

I wait until he’s in the bathroom to get up and grab a few of the pamphlets and maps in the stands at the front of the restaurant. For some reason knowing exactly where I am and where we could be going is grounding for me. I feel calmer, more in control. There are broachers for nearby landmarks and attractions. Gatlinburg, Tennessee, Dollywood, a zoo that’s a about an hour from this restaurant, a Georgia aquarium and various museums, several maps of the Smokey Mountains, and like Lee mentioned, Asheville, North Carolina. I grab them all. When I get back to the table, Lee is already seated and digging into his steak. He's already slid the top waffle onto my plate.

“Doing some research?” Lee asks with a mouthful of steak.

“Just like to know what’s around,” I admit.

He stops chewing and smiles, the meat a ball inside of his cheek. “Don’t trust me?”

I slide into my seat and poke at my waffle. “I’m not sure it’s safe to trust anyone.”

“But me specifically. Right now, you don’t trust me.”

I shrug. “Should I?”

“Are you afraid I’m gonna eat ya?”

I look around before ducking my head “I don’t think we should talk about this in public."

"It's 2:30 in the morning, y/n, no one's here but us and Deborah. Think about it, if I wanted to do something to you, anything, I could have by now. But you're sitting here in this fine establishment with me and you're not the one in a plastic bag in some random dumpster."

"You want me to trust you?"

Lee flashes me that stupid fucking smirk I'm starting to like a lot as he shoves a piece of steak in his mouth. "I'd like it if you did, yeah."

I poke at my waffle before grabbing the pitcher like container of butter pecan syrup and pour it on my plate. I look up and Lee isn't eating anymore. He's still got his knife and his fork in each hand but he's looking at me. Waiting. "Then explain it to me."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

Lee pushes his half-eaten plate to the side. He grabs all the condiments from our table as well as the salt and pepper shakers and pushes them into the center.

"I am so glad you asked. Allow me to demonstrate."

“Be a good girl and open up.”

“Yes, daddy,” you said, straightening your stance on your knees and opening your mouth wide. Your stuck your tongue out, giving Timothee a perfect pillow landing strip for his perfect cock.

His hands wound in your hair as he positioned in front of you. His fingers gripped tighter and yanked your head up. And before you had the chance to prepare, he shoved his cock all that way in. You felt your throat expand, your eyes water. You pushed back a gag. Drool began to drip from your mouth, down your chin and onto your thighs.

Tears now fully streaming from your eyes adding to the puddle of spit sliding down your legs and pooling on the floor.

“You like that? Hmm? You like my cock in your mouth?” Timothee gritted out, his voice bouncing in time with his thrusts. “Fuck me, you feel so. Fucking. Good.”

Then he ripped his cock form your mouth, leaving you gasping and gulping in the air you were deprived of as Timothee ravaged your throat.

Slick wet sounds could be heard as Timothee jerked his cock vigorously to orgasm. Even though your jaw was tired and sore you opened your mouth again, knowing he’ll want to see his cum spurt out and land on your tongue.

With a long, victorious groan Timothee erupted, the first spurt landing across your face. The second landing on your tongue. He pumped himself three more times, each ending with a long rope of warm salty cum.

When he was done he joined you on his knees, closed your mouth for you and nodded his head. A silent order for you to swallow everything he gave you.

You swallows loudly, so Timothee could hear your throat move and push his cum down your esophagus. Then, he took his index finger, swiping the cum thag didn’t make it into your mouth. Once collected, you opened up for him again, sucking each drop off of his finger.

He never liked it going to waste.

“Not for another...4 hours!” Another resident said. 

You were lucky enough to grab your keys. Four hours to get to your parents’ house. Fortunately, your parents only lived two hours away. That left two hours, if traffic allowed, to get there and hunker down for the night. You wasted no time. You pushed through the crowd of residents making phone calls and arranging for places to stay and made your way to your car.  You put the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. You plugged your phone into your charger, waited for the charging sound and typed in your parents’ address. Your heart sank a little when you saw the traffic on the quickest route. It sank even more when each route after that showed the same red highlighted roads signaling massive amounts of traffic in every direction. Who would want to be stuck driving during The Purge? You bit the bullet and took the route that even with traffic showed the least amount of time. Five minutes could make all the difference when it came to Purge Night. 

Three hours later, your sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel. You were still on the highway, it was getting dark, and you were running out of gas. Your stomach turned as you realized you weren’t going to make it to your parents’ house by 7pm. You flipped your blinker on, switched lanes and took the next exit. You decided long ago that hotels were too dangerous and too easy to break into on Purge Night, but desperate times called for desperate measure. The highway signs showed several hotels available to choose from off of the exit, each spaced out about thirty minutes apart. Your gas bell dinged as you pulled up to the traffic light off of the exit.

“Fuck!” You yelled, slamming your fists onto the steering wheel, accidentally pressing down on the horn. A man in front of you reached his hand out of his car and flipped you off. You looked around for your purse, tears welling in your eyes, only to realize you’d left in your now charred apartment. The tears spilled. There was no way you were going to make it to any hotel by 7pm. All stores closed early on Purge Night, so there was no place you could hide. The light turned green, and you slammed on your gas, hoping to get to a gas station before you ran out, but the car rolled slowly down the road. Enraged drivers sped around you, honking their horns at you as they tried to get home. 

The clock read 6:52 when you sputtered up to a dark Exxon. You didn’t get out of your car. Maybe if you sat in the backseat and covered yourself with the blankets you kept in the trunk, no one would see you. You were too afraid to move. You sat there until sirens sounded from all around you. Your radio, which had been turned off, turned on, blaring the same siren. 

A woman’s voice broadcasted on the radio and all around you, creating an eerie echo. 

“Commencing after the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. When the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all."

The siren rang through your ears again. 

Your worst fear and now become your reality. 

You were now an active participant in The Purge. 

You laid your head on the steering wheel, unable to move. Maybe if you pretended to be dead already, people would leave you alone. You closed your eyes and opened them slowly to see four large men with chainsaws and crowbars, bats with nails hammered into the ends and bats with chains and spiky balls attached. Some wore masks, even though crime was legal, they didn’t want to be known as the dude who killed Bill the Kindergarten teacher or Nancy the pediatric nurse. 

Quietly and smoothly, you slid into your back seat, making sure the locks were in place. You covered yourself with the blankets and laid on the floor of your car. Barely breathing, as to not make the blankets on top of you move. Then your car shook. You covered your mouth with your palm, eyes filling with tears yet again. 

“Knock, knock!” One of the men said. 

“Anyone in hereeeeee?” Another man sing songed in a thick country accent. 

You jumped at the sound of your windshield smashing. Your eyes winded as you felt your car lift, rising, as the four men outside pushed your car. You grabbed onto the metal bars attaching the front seats to the floor and held on. You couldn’t let them see you. If they did, you were dead. Some people just liked to kill for the fun of it, and that’s the type of men these guys were. So, when the car rolled on its side with an awful crunch of broken glass and creaking metal sounded, you bit your lip hard to keep from screaming. Then it rolled again. You held on tightly so that your body wouldn’t fall into the roof of your car. Your arms shook as you held yourself in place. Your legs throbbed as you prayed they wouldn’t try and open the doors. You heard one of the men slash your tires. 

“Should we go in there?” A third voice said. 

“Nah,” The first man’s voice said. He spit before talking again. “I’d like to go pay my old man a visit. Maybe we can finally wipe his ass out this year.” 

The men laughed in unison, and you listened as their footsteps grew lighter and further away until you let your body drop. You couldn’t stay in your car anymore. It was no longer safe. It was quiet on this back road, but you didn’t want to risk running into anymore scary men. You crawled your way out of your car, broken glass embedding itself into your elbows and knees. You stood breathing in the fresh air and that’s when you saw the lights of another car turn off. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” You whispered. 

You saw a tall, slender figure climb out of the car. He crouched low to the ground and ran behind the Exxon. He had some type of weapon in his hand, and you were sure he saw you. You looked around the car for a something--anything--you could use as weapon. You circled your car, kicked in your windshield a little more and picked out a long piece of glass that looked the most like a dagger. You tore part of your shirt and wrapped it around the end of the glass, forming a place where you could hold it without slicing your hand wide open. If you were going to be in The Purge, you might as well try your best to defend yourself. 

The Exxon was still dark, and since any and all crime was legal, you decided to do the most logical thing and break in. Just as you approached the front doors, thinking of how exactly to perform your first crime ever, the automatic doors opened. You stepped inside. The doors slid shut easily and you twisted the lock. It wouldn’t keep people out, but it’d at least make it a bit harder to get into the place. It was dark. The normal, white, blinding gas station lights had been cut off completely. Your felt around until the cold glass doors of the beverage coolers chilled your palms. Just as you made contact, the cooler lights turned on. One by one illuminating the inside of the gas station with a dull, but useful white light. 

A man on the floor moved, tripping over a Twinkie wrapper. 

You held out your glass dagger awkwardly and stayed with your back pressed against the glass doors. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit gas station, looking for whoever might be hiding. You slid your body down the expanse of the coolers, hoping to not have to use your poorly assembled weapon. Then, you heard the sound of something heavy ripping through the air. You barely had time to move, but ducked before something heavy and black flew into the cooler door behind you, showering you with broken glass. You stood and pulled a tire iron from the door. 

“What the fuck!” You yelled. 

You heard the tapping of old tennis shoes on bad linoleum tile before you seen him coming for you. He held a pocketknife out toward you, but you extended your glass dagger, and sliced at his shirt, cutting the fabric across his chest. It revealed his smooth chest, and a fine line of bright red blood popped against his creamy ivory skin. 

“This is my favorite shirt,” he said calmly, looking down at the clean slice your windshield dagger made across his chest. He touched it with dirty fingertips and wiped the blood on his jeans. 

You didn’t expect him to lunge for you, but he did, causing you to drop your weapon. You crashed into to the cooler of Redbulls and Monsters, your attacker on top of you. His body felt firm on top of yours, and even though he was trying to kill you, you couldn’t help but notice how nice he smelled. Like Old Spice and clean hair with a touch of that classic “guy” smell that you couldn’t quite place. He had dark curls on the top of his head, that shined nicely in the light of the cooler. If he hadn’t have tried to kill you with a tire iron you would totally date this guy. A shard of glass stabbed into your back, bringing you back to reality. Your attacker pushed you harder into the cooler, cans pelting you both in the head. Several bounced off of his back and onto the floor, spraying lime green Monster in all directions. You had to get out from under him, so you did the one thing you knew that brought all men to their knees. You kneed him in the balls. Instantly, he backed off of you, falling onto the Monster-soaked ground. You took your chance, jumping over him only to have your right foot land and slide in the spreading puddle of energy drinks. You felt his hands grab your ankles. He twisted your body over, your back sliding in broken glass and Monster. You grabbed bags of chips and threw them at him. He used one hand to swat them away, exploding them on impact. Chips covered the floor, creating a strange concoction of cool ranch seasoning and caffeine. You kicked a leg free and aimed for his dick. You missed several times before landing your shot. He groaned and fell on top of you. As lean as he was, his body on top of yours made it hard for you to escape him. 

“Get off of me!” You yelled at him. 

“Stop being such a fucking cunt!” He yelled back. 

You spat on his face, causing his eyes to shut hard and his head to jerk back a little. Even you were shocked. You’d never spit on someone before. Your mouth hung open as you panted hard, too tired to try and fight him off of you. He used one hand to wipe the spit off of his face. Then the two of you stared at each other. Breathing hard. A few cans continued to fall out of the cooler and the faint hiss of exploding drinks followed. 

Then, he smashed his face into yours. His lips enveloping yours in an aggressive kiss. His teeth clanked with yours as he forced your mouth open wider. You didn’t fight him. The adrenaline kicking through your blood stream was begging for him. The anxiety you felt all day and finally subsided into mind blowing arousal as his tongue wrapped around yours. Instinctively, you spread your legs, allowing him to press his knee against your core. You rolled your hips against him, groaning as his jeans pressed against your clit. He pulled away from your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. 

“Was hoping you’d stop trying to kill me so I could fuck you,” he growled.

“Shut up,” you whispered. Taking the shirt you sliced open and ripped it further. 

He looked down at his shirt, smirking slightly before saying, “I told you this was my favorite shirt. You owe me.”

You ran your tongue across the raw slice you cut into his chest, then down his stomach. He stood, unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down to his ankles, allowing his dick to spring free. You don’t know what had come over you, but you put all of your weight on your knees, not caring about the glass cutting into them or how much the Monster burned your fresh cuts and took him into your mouth. You sucked the length of his cock. Reveling in the groans and moans he was letting out as you pleasured him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, gathering your hair in a tight ponytail in his fist. He slid is cock deeper down your throat, gagging you just enough for your eyes to start watering. He pulled his dick out of your mouth as you sucked harder. A small pop forming as the suction broke. 

He pulled you to your feet and dragged you over to the counter, shoving all of the blue light glasses, heart shaped Reese’s and car air fresheners onto the floor. He tore your clothes off and sat your naked body on the counter, spread your legs open and tested your core with his fingers. He pulled them away and a thick shiny mass of arousal came with them. He sucked them clean and shoved his cock deep inside of you. He groaned as he filled you and you whined at the feeling of being so being so full. 

He fucked you hard, and cupped your face, running his thumb over your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing him to dip his thumb inside. You sucked it swirling your tongue around his finger. 

“My names Timothee,” he said, grunting out each word. “I want you to say it when you cum.” 

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and placed it to your clit, pressing and rubbing it delicately as he pumped in and out of you. You felt yourself pulsating around his cock as he worked your clit. You whined as you approached your climax, leaning back on the counter, spreading your legs as far apart as they’d go, increasing the pleasure as you gave him more room to work. 

“Timothee, fuck! I’m cumming.” 

He picked up speed, the register to your left shaking as he pounded into you. His and wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly, and pulling your face into his so he could watch you. 

“Tell me yours,” Timothee growled. 

“Y/n.” 

And he groaned it as he came, pumping everything he had into you until he had nothing left. 

You cleaned yourself up in the bathroom and when you came out you were relieved to see that he was still there, waiting for you. 

“Oh, you’re up,” a man’s voice you didn’t recognize sounded. 

You said nothing, wincing as you turned your head too fast toward the voice. 

“Careful, you hit your head pretty good on the way down here.” 

You couldn’t remember that. 

You couldn’t remember...anything.

The man took steps toward you, crouching once he was close enough to touch you. You turned your head to the side. You didn’t want to see him; you didn’t want him to touch you.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I won’t hurt you.” 

Kitten?

“Who are you?” You finally said, your voice cracking, partly from fear the rest from a burning in your throat that made speaking hurt like hell. Were you screaming on the way down there?

His fingers grasped your chin, turning your head to face him. Your eyes were slightly blurry, but you could see his features. Dark, curly hair and a sharp jaw line. A pair of dark eyebrows sat just above his piercing green eyes. He was skinny and much tall; even crouched down in front of you he towered over you. Normally, you’d find a creature this genetically blessed mesmerizing. But you were tied to a pole, and he was looking at you with a maniacal sort of twinkle in his eye that made any ounce of want for him disappear. 

“Darling,” he said. 

What was with the fucking pet names?

“I can’t tell you that.” His knees popped as he stood back up and walked around you. 

“Why?

His shoes clicked as he came back around as he stalked his prey and faced you again. 

“Because then you’ll tell everyone I killed all of your friends.” 

He said it simply, like it was as common an occurrence as checking the mail. 

Your eyes widened, and you were certain you could feel your own pupils dilate. 

“Oh,” he said, putting a hand in front of his mouth, feigning shock. “You don’t remember do you?”

“Let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything, I swear. Let me go, please.” 

He rushed over to you, crouching again. 

“Shhh, don’t worry.” 

You started jerking against the pole, trying to push your hands through the rope that kept them bound together. You cried out as the skin began to peel away, exposing more raw, bloody flesh. 

“Easy, easy, love.” 

“Stop calling me names!” You said, spitting in his face. 

You were still as it landed on him. Right above that oddly perfect eyebrow. He let it drip down his face, and when it neared his lips, his let his tongue slip out, swiping your spit into his mouth.

“Mmm, you’re lucky you’re my favorite,” he growled. 

You cringed. You didn’t want to be his favorite. 

“But even favorites have to be punished.”

Your heart sank into your stomach when you heard his words. You didn’t know what he was going to do or what he was capable of doing, but he killed your friends and had you captive. Anything else that happened couldn’t be good. 

“We’re gonna have to fill that mouth of yours,” he said. 

You watched as his hands made his way down to his belt. He fumbled with it for a few seconds before pulling his zipper down with a sharp zip. 

How do you get out of this?

Better yet, how do you get out of this alive. 

You couldn’t run. 

You couldn’t even move.

So, you’d have to pretend. 

He pulled out his cock, stroking it delicately as he stepped toward you. 

“Gonna teach you a lesson. Open up.” 

Everything in you wanted to fight, to jerk your head to the side. But that wasn’t the way out of this. 

You obeyed him. Opening your mouth, your tongue hung out slightly. A perfect, pillowy platform for him to slide his dick against. 

“So obedient,” he said as he smacked your tongue with the tip of his cock. “I’m gonna teach you how to behave.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to prepare as he slammed his cock all the way into your mouth. You gagged immediately. 

“Mmm, I like that sound.”  He slid out slowly. You could feel every vein that popped out of the silky skin of his cock. Your eyes watered as he slid back in as slow as he came out. He touched the back of your throat, and the salty taste of precum slid down your throat. Your mouth hung open, as he fucked it. Spit and drool mixed with tears hung from your chin. Your throat made rhythmic gurgling sounds as he continued. 

He moaned as he pressed his palms against the same pole you were tied to, thrusting his hips back and forth. 

You had to make this count. You had to make this so good for him that he’d let you go. 

As he fucked your mouth, you bobbed your head, meeting each of his thrusts. It was hard with your hands tied behind your back. You’d normally grasp a man’s legs as you sucked him off. As he pulled out of your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him so hard, his pull out was slower, strained. It was like sucking a thick milkshake through a straw. 

Only better. 

You suddenly had the overwhelming urge to make him cum. 

And he was holding back. Making it last as long as possible. 

You gagged and moaned on his cock, sucking him like your life depended on it. 

It did. 

His beat his fist into the pole. He was close to his release; you could tell by the tight muscles in his thigh. 

You wanted to touch yourself, but you couldn’t. 

It was torture. 

His cock twitched in your mouth. He slid in and out twice more as he unloaded himself into your mouth. 

When he was empty, he slid out, immediately grabbing your chin, keeping it locked shut. 

“There’s your first lesson, kitten. We don’t spit, we swallow.