#kinkoctober

The bass throbbed through your chest as the DJ sent another remix tearing across the dance floor. Lights strobed red, purple, and electric green, painting the crowd in dizzy bursts of color. The air was thick with heat and sweat, the tang of cheap beer mixing with the sickly-sweet scent of artificial fog that clung to everyone’s skin.

You hadn’t expected the Halloween party to be this wild. You’d told yourself you’d go for a couple of hours, laugh with your college friends, maybe sneak a few photos for Instagram, and call it a night. But the second you walked in, with the music rattling your bones and everyone already tipsy and shrieking in their costumes, it was impossible not to get swept up in the chaos.

And, of course, it helped that your friends had shoved you into the bunny costume.

“Under no circumstances you are going to be Wednesday Addams. Who are you going to pick up dressed like that?” your best friend had begged while she zipped herself into her devil-red latex. “Bunny will be. It’s cute. It’s sexy. And you have the legs for it. Stop acting picky and boring.”

So here you were — black satin bodysuit clinging to your chest and hips, a fluffy white tail bobbing above the curve of your ass, fishnets hugging your thighs, and heels that were already murdering your feet. The velvet ears perched on your headband tilted dangerously every time you jumped or threw your arms up, but that only made your friends squeal harder when they caught sight of you.

“Bunny, bunny, bunny!” they chanted, circling you with their drinks sloshing dangerously, egging you on until you gave in and dropped into an embarrassing dance that had the whole group cackling.

You danced until your thighs burned, until the beat blurred into a single pulse and the laughter melted into a haze. Someone shoved a shot glass into your hand, you downed it before even asking what it was. Something sweet, something sour, and then nothing but fire in your throat. You spun, stumbled into the arms of a skeleton, peeled away to throw your arms around an angel, kissed your devil-friend on the cheek, and let the crowd eat you whole.

The music swallowed hours. Time didn’t exist inside that room.

But your stomach eventually did.

At first, it was just a twist — nothing serious, you thought, just too much sugar, too much alcohol, too much bouncing up and down in five-inch heels. Then the twist became a knot. The knot became a wave. And suddenly, your body was no longer interested in dancing.

“Bathroom,” you gasped to your friend, clutching at her arm. She shouted something back — lost in the music — but waved you off toward the hallway anyway.

You barely made it out of the crush of bodies before your stomach lurched hard enough to make your throat burn. Shoving past a pirate and a fairy, you clawed your way to the exit doors, the cool night air smacking your overheated skin as you stumbled outside.

The world tilted. You dropped your heels against the pavement and bent forward, clutching your stomach with one hand and the railing with the other, gagging hard. The night air reeked of cigarette smoke, spilled liquor, and the faint metallic tang of the city. Someone was smoking close by — you caught the ember glow from the corner of your teary vision — but you didn’t care.

You threw up.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t quiet. It was violent and hot, your body convulsing as the alcohol and sugar came burning back up your throat.

You gagged again, spit, wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist, already mortified at yourself.

“Fuck me—” you muttered, leaning into the railing for support.

That’s when you realized you weren’t alone. You felt his eyes on you.

“Aw, sorry, mate” you blurted hoarsely, your voice thick, still catching on the sour taste in your throat. You didn’t dare look up right away, too focused on keeping your balance. “I didn’t— I just needed— sorry.”

The silence stretched. Not hostile, not impatient. Just… heavy.

When you finally straightened, pushing your tangled hair back from your sweaty face, your gaze caught on him.

The figure stood a few feet away, leaning lazily against the brick wall of the nightclub, cigarette dangling from his lips. The smoke curled around his face, half-hiding cute cheekbones and eyes that gleamed under the streetlight. He wasn't too much tall, broad-shouldered, dressed casually with a white shirt — not flashy like most of the costumed partiers inside, but quite normal. A leather jacket, ripped jeans, boots that looked like they’d seen fights and walked away from them.

And he was still staring at you. You saw his eyes travel from below, over your dark heels, up to your crooked ears.

Your heart thudded against your ribs, not entirely from the retching.

You cleared your throat, embarrassed. “Yeah. Real classy, I know. Sexy bunny throws up on Halloween. Bet you’ll tell all your friends.”

The man’s lips curved slowly around the cigarette. The ember flared as he took a drag, exhaled, then flicked the ash lazily to the side.

“No mates to be botherin', sweetheart” he said finally, a hint of accent around the edges. His voice raspy. “I’m here on me own.”

You blinked, surprised at how direct the answer was. He could’ve teased you, could’ve pointed out the mess you’d just made on the pavement, could’ve smirked and walked away. But he hadn’t.

She wasn't exactly the sexiest thing in the world at the time.

“An' I’m not the sort who goes tellin' mortifyin' stories,” he added after a pause, tilting his head just slightly, eyes never leaving you. “So yer secret’s safe.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flutter in a way that had nothing to do with nausea. You shifted your weight against the railing, giving him a surprised nod.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice soft but steady enough. Then, after a second of silence, curiosity tugged at you. “So… if you’re here alone, and not dressed like a hot angel… what are you supposed to be, then?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushed off the wall, standing tall in front of you, close enough that the smoke from his cigarette curled between you. He tilted his chin just slightly downward, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his mouth.

Then he opened it.

For a moment, you thought it was just a cocky smile. But then the light caught on them — sharp, gleaming, monstrous teeth filling his mouth in a way that was too precise, too uncanny.

You blinked, startled, your lips parting before the words slipped out.

“Vampire costume?”

He gave a little click of his tongue, pulling the cigarette from his lips to exhale another trail of smoke. “Got it in one.”

You stared at the teeth a little longer, leaning forward despite yourself, the glint almost hypnotic. They were better than anything you’d seen in a party shop — no crooked fit, no plastic shine. They looked… real.

“Wow,” you murmured, unable to stop yourself. “They look crazy.”

His grin widened, smug now, the kind of smile that said he liked being admired. “Aye,” he said simply, flicking the cigarette to the curb and grinding it under his boot. “I know.”

A gust of freezing wind blew between the two buildings, and you realized you'd gone out without your jacket to protect you.

You rubbed your bare arms as the chill of the night began to bite. The thin satin of your bunny costume wasn’t doing much to keep the October air off your skin. With a sigh, you glanced toward the door where warm, golden light spilled from the party, accompanied by bass so loud you felt it in your ribs.

“I should go back inside,” you muttered, half to yourself, half to him.

The man only tilted his head, that amused little smirk still etched into his lips.

On the threshold, you paused, hand against the doorframe, and glanced back at him. “Aren't you coming in?”

His eyes shone, the sharp gleam of the teeth catching again in the light as he smiled. “Can I?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the oddness of the question. Then you laughed, shaking your head. “With those amazing vampire details? Of course you can. C’mon! Get inside before this cold gets you.”

He didn't seem to waste any time as he followed you the exact moment your feet landed on the soft floor of the club.

Inside, the crowd was already thicker than before. Costumed bodies pressed close, laughter mingled with shouted conversations over the music. The floor was sticky, drinks sloshed from raised cups, glitter sparkled under the cheap strobe lights.

You threaded your way through it, tugging at the hem of your costume when someone’s elbow brushed too close. A man in a skeleton mask spun around with his beer, nearly spilling it on your legs, and you jerked back just in time.

“Watch it!” you muttered, slipping past him.

But then — instinct. You turned your head, expecting to find the vampire stranger shadowing you just a step behind. The crowd throbbed and shifted, faces painted, fangs plastic, wings bent, masks cracked. But him?

Gone.

Not behind you. Not to the left. Not by the doorway where you’d left him.

Your brows furrowed, a laugh — small, breathless — escaping your lips. Perhaps it had been captured by some other bunny or fairy wandering around the room.

You scanned the crowd one more time, but all you saw were cheap costumes and drunken grins. No sharp teeth, no steady blue gaze, no calm stranger watching you with too much intent.

You shrugged as you headed to the bathroom so you could wash the sour taste out of your mouth and eat a mint before returning to your group.

The fourth drink had been a mistake. The fifth was a disaster.

Your body was warm now, too warm, the sweat trickling down your back beneath the skimpy bunny costume. The party swayed and spun in time with the music, lights flashing red and green and gold, making every laugh and every cheer seem like it was happening underwater.

You tried dancing again, tried keeping up with your friends, but your balance betrayed you. So instead, you stumbled toward the bar for water—at least, you told yourself that’s what you wanted. Somehow, another drink landed in your hand, and you sipped it down because it was sweet, because it was easy, because why not?

By the time you turned back into the crowd, everything had doubled. Two skeletons, four witches, six clowns — all of them laughing too loud, moving too close, making your head pound. You pushed through, giggling as someone’s feather boa brushed your cheek, not even sure where you were going anymore.

And then you slammed into someone. Hard enough to jolt the drink right out of your hand and send it splashing onto your wrist.

“Oh shit—” you started, but the words tangled up in your throat.

Because it was him.

The stranger.

The hot vampire.

Except now, his face was smeared with fake blood, thick streaks painted across his jaw, his shirt stained crimson. It made his teeth — those impossibly sharp, monstrous teeth — stand out even more when he grinned at you.

“A, there y'are,” he said, his voice satisfied, as though you were the one who had gone missing. “I was after lookin' for ya.”

Your head tipped back, and you barked out a laugh that came too loud, too drunk, bubbling from your chest. “For me?”

His answer was a low chuckle, smooth as velvet and just as dangerous. One hand slid around your waist with easy confidence, the other capturing your wrist where the spilled drink had left your skin sticky.

His body aligned with yours, guiding you without force, just enough to make your hips fall into rhythm with his. The blood on his face smeared faintly against your temple when he went close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your ear.

“Yeah, sure. Ye let me in,” he said slowly, like every word was measured. “Need t'give somethin' back t' yerself.”

And then he inhaled.

Not a normal breath. Not the way someone sniffs at a perfume bottle or catches a whiff of shampoo in passing. This was deep, hungry, like he was dragging your very scent down into his lungs and savoring it. His nose traced the line of your hair as he breathed you in, lingering there for a beat too long.

Your heart stuttered. The air seemed suddenly too thin.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips stained crimson, his grin wolfish. “Ye smell… sweet.”

The way he said it made goosebumps race down your arms.

You swayed where you stood, trying to read him through the alcohol haze. “That was...” you hiccupped, then leaned a little closer, whispering conspiratorially, “weirdly hot.”

“Mmmh,” he agreed smoothly, unfazed. Then, still holding your wrist, still guiding your hips with his, he leaned close again. “Let's get outta here as quick as we can.”

You laughed. “I didn't even know your name...”

“Name's Remmick.”

The words sank in beneath the music, quieter than the bass, yet heavier than the beat.

You shook your head at his haste.

“Nice to meet you, Remmick. I know just the perfect place we could go...” you told him, blinking seductively, trying to find his eyes in the strobing light.

He only smiled, the flash of monstrous teeth cutting white through the crimson stains.

You had a rule. A good rule. A rule your friends teased you for, but one you’d stuck to through plenty of blurry, drunken nights.

Never go to a stranger’s place.

You always insisted—if the pull was strong enough, if the chemistry was too sharp to ignore—then you brought them back to your apartment. Your space, your bed, your terms.

That’s how you justified the weight of Remmick’s mouth on yours as you fumbled through the lock, nearly tripping over your own heels before dragging him inside. The kiss was dizzying, and not only because of the drinks—his lips were coated in that coppery stage dye, slicking against your tongue.

You broke away with a shaky laugh, smearing your mouth against your wrist as if to wipe it clean. “That… whatever fake blood you’re using? Tastes like pennies. Is that even safe to swallow?”

His grin flashed sharp in the dim hallway light. “Suppose we’ll find out.”

A shiver rippled down your spine, but your drunken haze softened it into something thrilling instead of dangerous.

You tugged him toward your bedroom, kicking off your bloody shoes. The rush, the heat, the urgency—it all blurred into instinct. You pushed him toward the bed, letting him sit there, as you walked away to reach and open the top drawer of your dresser for the familiar square foil packets.

But before you could get too far away, his hands clamped around your hips.

You gasped as he dragged you backward, forcing you down onto his lap. The sudden tug stole the breath from your lungs, and you landed with a soft thud against the hard wall of his body.

His chest was still covered by the thin fabric of his shirt, but beneath it he felt immovable—unyielding, like carved stone. Heat radiated from him, searing through the barrier of your dress, soaking into your spine until every nerve lit up with awareness.

Your thighs spread instinctively, clinging to his, the rough denim of his jeans pressing against the bare skin where your stockings were widening their holes. 

“Your… clothes,” you stammered, closing your eyes, trying to slow the spin of the room. “Take them off...”

Your fingers twitched uselessly at your sides, not sure where to put them.

“So greedy.” His voice was velvet, curling around your nerves.

With annoying slowness, he peeled his shirt off over his shoulder. The fabric whispered to the floor, forgotten. Your covered back met the hot of his chest as his arms came around you, caging you against him.

Then his hands were on your breasts—firm, claiming, groping through the thin fabric of your dress as if it weren’t there at all. His mouth followed close behind, hot and wet at your throat, his tongue dragging in a slow, possessive line that made your head tip helplessly to the side.

Your breath caught. The slick trail he left burned, copper and spice clinging to your skin.

“Remmick…” you whispered, pleading for more.

His chuckle vibrated against your back, teeth grazing your pulse. “Shh, bunny. Let me do all the work.”

When he finally shifted his hips beneath you, grinding just enough to make you aware of the hardness straining against his zipper, a broken needy and slutty sound slipped from your throat.

That sound seemed to do something to him because a growl shook his chest and then his mouth was all over your face, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your jaw, your cheek, until he finally forced your head to the side, capturing your lips from behind. It wasn’t gentle. His tongue pushed past your teeth, tasting you, devouring you, his sharp teeth grazing your lips as if he had to claim you even in the kiss.

You noticed he was still wearing his disguise and wondered what extraordinary material they were made of to stay stuck in his mouth.

When he sucked your tongue in his mouth you moaned. His cock dragged against the curve of your back, thick and unrelenting, looking for some relief. The sheer heat of him, the weight of that erection pressing insistently into you, light a fire in your lower belly that I haven't felt in a long time.

Without thinking, your fingers tangled in his hair, clutching hard. You yanked his head back just enough to look at him, his pupils blown wide, fangs glinting faintly. Instead of snarling, he whimpered — whimpered — the sound rough, needy, like your touch had undone him completely.

“Yes,” he gasped, his lips brushing over your ear as you tugged at his dark strands again. “Do that again. Gods, love, I'm goin' mad...”

You pulled harder, and his body arched into you, a shudder racking through him as though you had stolen the last of his restraint. His hips ground forward as he moaned into your ear.

“Good girl...” he rasped, his breath scorching your skin. “Want t' be inside ye so bad—bury meself so deep ye can’t think o' anyone else but me.”

His hands slid down from your waist until his fingers were pressing against your lower belly on the fabric of your dress. He traced the edge of your leotard body near your groin, the faintest brush of his fingertips making you arch into his touch before he finally reached your favourite part.

You whimpered, thighs trembling, as he rubbed your clothed slit in lazy circles, the friction building heat until it felt unbearable. The thin fabric of your bunny costume trapped every ounce of slickness, turning each stroke into a torturous tease.

“Gods, ye’re wet already,” he chuckled, the sound dark and amused against your neck. His hand pressed harder, the digit grinding against your clit.  “Me sweet, sweet bunny. I’ll keep ye with me forever.”

Your breath hitched at the words, shame and need tangling together until all you could do was nod against his hold.

“That’s it…” He kissed your neck again, slower this time, dragging his tongue over your pulse as his other hand slid up to grope your neglected breast again. His palm kneaded, thumb flicking your nipple until it peaked against the fabric, aching for more.

Every drag of his hands made your thighs twitch, your hips grind harder against his palm and his cock beneath you.

You tried to inform him, a breathless, broken sound: “Remmick, I—I'm so close...”

Remmick hummed low in his chest, the vibration rolling through you as his teeth caught your earlobe. “That’s me girl. Me little bunny’s gonna cum for me in her pretty costume, isn’t she now?”

“Yes! Yes, I—”

Your body snapped at his words, heat surging through you as if the question itself pushed you closer to the edge. The orgasm tore through you like lightning, your whole body spasming as you threw your head back against his shoulder and screamed. Your walls clenched around anything, making you squirm but satisfied.

You mewled, hips rocking slightly into his hand, your fingers still tangled comfortably in his hair.

He whined, the sound thick and high, vibrating against your throat as he buried his face there again, sucking bruises into your skin. “Yeah… like that, love the way ye sound. Think I've found somethin' really fancy.”

Rrripp.

His hands tore the fabric like paper, the bottom of your leotard body separated, opening and lifting slightly. The stockings and panties covering your womanhood opened into a large hole, shredded in a single pull. The sound was loud, echoing in the room as the cool air hit your bare wet skin.

“Rem—!” you gasped, shocked, but your words ended in a shriek as he grabbed you and tossed you sideways onto the mattress.

You landed on your hip and shoulder, bouncing against the bed, your breath knocked out of you for a second. Before you could recover, he was already there — kneeling beside you, towering over you, yanking his cock free from the confines of his pants.

It sprang out heavy, thick, glistening at the tip. Your eyes widened at the sheer size of it, your cunt clenching in anticipation and anxiety.

You thought he would be quick and cruel for his pleasure, taking you without properly preparing you since you had already had your orgasm.

But instead, his fingers grazed your bare lips, spreading you open. You gasped when one slid between, stroking up and down, dipping just enough into your heat to make your body clench.

“Stop teasing…” you whimpered, grabbing for his wrist. He only chuckled darkly, pushing two fingers inside you at once.

The stretch stole your breath. He curled them instantly, fucking you slow, deep, knuckle to palm, until the squelch of your cunt filled the room. Fingers curling and dragging against that tender, aching spot inside you while his thumb kept grinding on your clit.

You tried to twist away for the overstimulation, but his arm was iron around your leg, keeping you open and helpless against his hand.

“I know, bunny, I know. But ye've got t' be ready for me. I don't want t' hurt ye. Yet.”

You shook your head wildly, tears streaking down your face, but your body betrayed you: you could hear it, the slick, obscene squelch of your cunt as he fingered you mercilessly, juices running down your thighs. Every stroke of his fingers made you jerk and cry out, body caught between wanting to flee and craving more.

Remmick growled, pulling his fingers out with a wet sound. “There ye go. Good bunny.”

You whined at the loss, your hips arching helplessly, desperate for him to sink back in.

But instead of thrusting, he spat — a sharp, wet sound in the air. His saliva landed hot and slick, dripping down his shaft and over your already soaked cunt.

He dragged your bottom leg between his and, with one strong hand, he took the top one up against his chest and shoulder, bending you into the position. God, that man knew exactly what you needed.

“Better…” he muttered darkly, one hand stroking himself through the mess he’d just made. He smeared his spit over your folds with the head of his cock, coating you, making the glide obscene.

The sight alone made your insides twist with want.

You shuddered, your voice breaking. “Remmick—”

“Shhh, bunny,” he cooed, kissing your ankle in a caress as his cockhead pressed harder, sliding along your slit. “Look at her. Needs me.”

And then — he sank in.

“Fuck, love,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his cock split you open, inch by thick inch.

You screamed, clawing at the sheets, your body arching in shock as he stretched you, cunt struggling to take him. The angle was brutal — his cock driving in sideways, hitting deep, pushing into places you didn’t know existed.

The burn made your eyes water, but layered under it was white-hot pleasure that built with every thrust.

Remmick’s head dropped back, a fucked up smile on his lips. His fangs glinted as he let out a strangled moan.  “Already milking me. Ye’re perfect, bunny. Fuckin' perfect.”

He set a rhythm, his hips snapping forward, his dick pounding into you, the slap of skin and the wet squelch of your cunt filling the air. His grip on your thigh and ankle tightened, hauling it higher against his side, spreading you wider, deeper, until you thought you’d tear apart.

You sobbed, not from pain alone, but from how intensely full you felt, every nerve ending screaming at once.

Your nails dug into the sheets, then into his wrist when you couldn’t hold still anymore. “Remmick! Too—ahh—”

You must have looked like a mess because Remmick took pity and lowered your leg to rest against his pelvis but kept up the punishing pace.

He bent over you, kissing your open mouth, swallowing your cries with tongue. “Shhh… take it, bunny. Take me. Ye’re doin' so good.” His words were rough but his tone broke on a moan, his shaft twitching inside you as your walls squeezed around him.

His hand snaked under you to rub your clit in frantic circles. The combined force of his dick pounding into you and his fingers working your swollen nub had your eyes rolling back. Your hips pushed back, chasing more even as you whined and whimpered.

“Gods, yes,” he groaned, his forehead pressed to yours as his pace quickened, ruthless now. “Ye love it. Ye fuckin' love it.”

The bed rocked under you, the angle locking you in place, forcing you to feel every hard, wet thrust. Your leg quivered where he held it high, your whole body shaking as waves of heat tore through you.

“Remmick—fuck—” you sobbed, your voice breaking.

“Say it,” he demanded, his lips at your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Say ye’re mine. Say this pussy’s mine forever.”

“Y-Yours—I'm yours—” you answered quickly, not caring in the least that this was just going to be a great one-night stand for you.

You could feel him shaking above you, his grip on your thigh trembling as he tried to keep control.

You weren’t much better. Your nails dug crescent moons into his upper side, your mouth falling open in a broken scream as the pressure in your belly snapped tight, every thrust dragging you closer to the edge.

“Remmick—” you sobbed, twisting beneath him, your hips meeting his with instinctive, needy rolls. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he groaned against your ear, his voice completely ruined. “Cum for me, bunny. Cum all over me cock.”

That was it. The words tore through you like a match to dry tinder. Your body locked up, then convulsed, a hot rush of release crashing through you. Your cunt fluttered wildly around him, pulling him deeper, milking him. You clung to him like you were drowning, crying out his name again and again as wave after wave hit you.

“Ohh—yes—yes,” he gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder as his control finally broke. “so tight—”

He slammed in one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and then he was coming too. An high whine spilling from his throat as his dick pulsed inside you. Hot, thick spurts filled you, the heat blooming inside your still-spasming cunt, his hips jerking with each release shot.

You trembled together, your leg shaking against his side, his forehead pressed to yours. He didn’t pull out, just stayed there, buried deep, his chest heaving as he whispered against your mouth.

He stroked a hand down your hair, thumb brushing your jaw as he kissed you — slow now, reverent. “Fuckin' lucky night.”

You whined softly into his mouth, overstimulated but clinging to him anyway, moving your bottom leg to surround both around his hips and bring him against you. He kissed your temple, nuzzling into your hair as he started to relax.

But before he could even think of closing his eyes, you reached over and pinched his side — sharp enough to make him flinch. He grunted, turning his head with a half-annoyed, half-lazy look.

“Your face is still stained with that red stuff,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion but still firm. “Wash yourself if you want to sleep here and have a second round later…” you squinted at him.

His lips curved into a slow smirk, his fangs peeking slightly in the dim bedroom light. “At yer command, ma’am.”

He slid out of bed with that unhurried grace he had, like a predator that had eaten its fill. Naked and with his pants opened, he padded to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the muted sound of running water.

You rolled onto your side, exhaling through your nose. The sheets were twisted around your legs, damp with sweat. Your heart was still beating too fast for someone who’d just had sex. It was like your body hadn’t realized the adrenaline should be gone by now.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand and your stomach dropped. Ten missed calls. All from Lucy.

“Shit…” you muttered, tapping the screen. Your thumb trembled as you pressed Call Back.

She answered on the first ring, her voice breaking, words tumbling over each other like an avalanche. “Where the fuck are you—? I’ve been calling you for hours, HOURS—”

“Lucy, slow down. Please.” You pressed your palm to your forehead. The room felt tilted. “I’ve got a headache.”

“People died here!” she screamed into the phone, the sound so loud you had to pull it away from your ear. “Do you understand me? People DIED—”

Your breath caught in your throat. People died? At the club?

You stared at the far wall, trying to piece together what she was saying, but your eyes drifted down, almost without thinking, near the chair where Remmick had dropped his clothes.

His shirt lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, darkly stained. The rusty maroon streaks weren’t quite the color of fake stage blood.

The casual phrase he’d thrown at you in the club came back, unspooling in your memory like a loose thread: “Let’s get outta here as quick as we can.” You’d laughed, thinking it was just him being impatient.

The taste of copper still clung to your lips.

“Lucy…” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I think… I think I’m not feeling well…”

“Where are you?” she was shouting again, frantic. “I’m coming—where are you—tell me where you are right now—”

The words snapped off as the phone was yanked out of your hand. You gasped and jerked away, your pulse hammering in your throat.

Remmick stood next to the bed, completely clean now — the blood gone from his face — but his hair damp, plastered to his temples, were sharpening the deep red eyes that shone in the dim light.

He looked down at your phone with a bored expression, like he’d just intercepted a spam call. With one thumb he ended the call. The dial tone died with a soft click.

Biting your lower lip, you pressed your fingers against the soft fabric of the mask, smiling faintly as you took your drink and turned your head slightly. Looking at him above the rim of the glass, you caught his dark gaze across the bar. Longing. Only for you. He only nodded once toward the corridor before turning his back. You set the glass on the counter and started following him. Obedient. The prestigious club was packed tonight. Patrons were enjoying the burlesque show, some were flirting quietly in individual areas. The room was dimly lit, with low lights coming from above, making everything feel private. Like a secret. The sensual music coming from the bass was slow. Sensual. Making you vibrate with anticipation. Your steps were confident as you followed him into one of the many halls, red doors were placed on each side of the walls. Expectation growing inside your stomach, you sighed, calming your nerves. It's been so long. The black-haired man stopped and opened one of the many doors.

" After you. " Aaron smiled slowly, leaning against the door.

You entered the room, but before you could see what was in it, you were pushed back against the wall. He closed the door abruptly and pressed his frame against yours, covering your body. You could feel him everywhere. He took hold of your face between his hands, tilting your head up.

" I have missed you." He murmured, his eyes gleaming with dark promises. " So much." He added, thrusting his hips, making you gasp, feeling his hardness pressed against you. " I can tell. " You chuckled low; however, your laugh died down on your lips as he dropped his left hand to grab you by the neck.

His hand was tight around your skin. Choking you slightly. You whimpered, pushing your head back against the wall, desire pooling inside your limbs.

" Did you miss me? " He inquired, inclining his head into the crook of your neck, breathing you in, his nose against your cheek.

Silence settled between the two of you. You smiled slightly, licking your lips as you felt his hand tightening around your neck. Good. It felt good.

" Answer me. " Aaron ordered, his voice echoing inside the quiet room, stern, yet enticing to your ears. "C-can I touch you, sir?" You replied instead, your voice hoarse.

Frowning his eyebrows, he was upset. But you could discern light amusement inside his dark brown-eyes.

" That's how you want to play it. "

Swiftly, before you could realize what was happening, Aaron was sitting on the bed, and you were lying on your stomach on his thighs. The short skirt you decided to wear to tease him was raised just under your ass. Both of your wrists were held by Aaron's fingers behind your back while his other hand was caressing your naked thighs. Yes! Pressing your cheek against the smooth fabric of his pants, you sighed, eager for what would follow. And to add to the situation, you started to move, slowly, your stomach teasing his hardness under you.

" D-Don't do that. " He hissed, his voice menacing. His hand was moving up and down on your skin before he slowly raised your skirt. "Or they will be more." He added, breathing hard, his fingers pushing down your thong on your legs. " P-Please. " You begged, your voice only a whisper, your body shivering to his touch.

Without any words, Aaron removed his hand. And for a few moments, nothing. Nothing happened. You moaned, desperate, but he said nothing, only gripping your wrist harder. Silence stretched between you. Closing your eyes, you tried to stay calm, not to move. Then. Then it came down. The slap of his palm on your ass made you jolt with surprise. But you needed it.

" Yes. " You cried out, the sting was delicious on your skin, making you groan against his thighs. " Count them." Aaron commanded, panting. " One."

And it began. He never slapped you twice at the same place, surprising you each time, making you whimper. Sometimes his palm would stroke the slight pain away before continuing with his spanking. Sweat covered your skin, and your breathing was erratic. The sound he made, pure animal, grunting low each time his hand touched your ass. You felt empty. Empty inside. And you needed to be full. You were craving him.

" Twenty. " You whispered against his leg, a mess of hot desire. " Are you ready to answer me. " Aaron declared, heaving hard, his thumb stroking your wrists.

You turned your face to the side, you opened your eyes, the light, even though dim, was bright to you, your vision blurry, you closed and opened your eyes, rapidly. You licked your lips, catching his gaze, you sighed.

" I missed you so much it hurt. "

Aaron grasped your hips and pushed you onto the bed behind, on your stomach. You quickly removed your skirt and thong before removing your corset. You tried to unclasp your bra, but he was already on you, naked. His cock pressed deliciously against your ass. He bit your shoulder, making you cry out. He unclasped your bra, licking the mark he made on you.

" I missed you so much, I couldn't sleep last night. " You admitted, looking at him above your shoulder, a small smile on your lips. " I might not last. " Aaron confessed, kissing you softly on your lips, adjusting the mask on your face. " I'm sorry." He whispered against your mouth. " W-We…" You stammered as he gripped your waist, moving your ass up.

Teasing your slit, he soaked his cock with your wetness, before stroking your clit with the tip. You bit back a moan against his mouth. Aaron pushed his tongue inside your mouth at the same time he pushed himself inside your pussy. You both held your breath briefly, pausing as he slowly entered you. Full. You felt full. Sucking his tongue, he growled, his cock filled you to the brim. You clenched him. Aaron tilted his face away, cursing before sucking your shoulder; his voice was loud, shaky.

"D-Dont do that." He panted, threatening.

But you didn't listen, and as he started to move, you did it again. Slapping your ass cheek, you cried out his name before pressing your face against the pillow. Aaron started to pick up the pace, pounding inside you, his hands holding your hips up, tight and hard.

" I-I told you. " He growled behind you. " Fuck, you're so tight."

Closing his eyes, his movements were quick. He was hitting the delicious spot inside you.

"C-Can I…" You stuttered, moaning, you close your eyes, feeling close, his cock throbbing inside you. " Let me. "

Sucking on his fingers, Aaron pushed them under you, stroking the bundle of flesh. You whimpered, shivering. You were getting higher and higher.

" Be a good girl. " Aaron grunted, his pace becoming sloppy. "C-Come for me. "

And you did. Grasping the straps tied to the bed, you came hard, delicious shockwaves coursing through your limbs. Following you into the pleasant abyss, Aaron came, spilling inside you. He went still, your name a prayer on his lips.

" Shit. "

Gasping rapidly, he stayed inside you for few moments before dropping his back on the mattress to lie next to you. Catching your breath, you both glance at each other and start to laugh softly.

" Three weeks. " You complained, slowly moving your hands to see if your mask was still clasped on your face. " I know. " He sighed, pushing his head against the pillow, briefly looking up at the ceiling. "It's too long. " " It's too long. " He agreed, looking back at you. " And it might be longer next time. " You added, biting your lower lip, feeling embarrassed to put both of you in this situation.

A situation that used to work. It's been four months since you met Aaron at this club. During the four month, you had explore your darkest desire. It has been the best four month of your life. It was a compromise between you two, to see each other at least once a week. At the club. Aaron's job was demanding, and you understood. You didn't knew what he did and you didn't asked. It was the rules. You only knew his name and he only knew yours. And it worked just fine for you. Until your own professional life made things more complicated.

" I know. " Aaron smiled, pride shining in his eyes. " Your new job. " " Yeah." You sighed, disappointed that your decision had an impact your personal life. " Maybe, " Aaron began pushing himself on his elbow to look at you, his brown eyes kind while a soft blush appeared on his cheeks. "Maybe we could see each other, outside of the club."

What?

" Only if you want to. " He added quickly, smiling faintly. " We could set up a date. " He continued pushing his back against the headboard, smilling shyly. " A date. " You repeated, dumfounded. " I will send you everything through the club's app, and you will only have to say yes. " He clarified. And you could see it, his desire for more inside his eyes. Hopeful. " Only if you want to, of course."

It started as sex between strangers, wanting to discover more pleasure. Could it lead to more? Doubts started to bloom inside your chest.

" Listen, you don't have to give me an answer now. Just think about it. " Aaron sighed, disappointment creeping inside his eyes. He glanced at the wall behind you before turning his back to you. " I still need to take care of you. "

Taking the product inside the bedside table, Aaron slid to the end of the bed and knelt between your legs. He poured some oil between his hands before he started massaging your ass, softly. Licking your lips, you closed your eyes, feeling his warm palms stroking you deeply but gently. Soothing. Humming, you close your eyes, trying to relax, but his proposition didn't left your mind. He never saw you without the mask on. Can this casual sex between two adults lead to more? You felt his hot breath above your skin, pressing a kiss against your ass cheek, and you moaned. Would it be embarrassing? Maybe. But you trusted him. And every uncertainty you had evaporated as Aaaron pushed his face between your legs, kissing your pussy before licking gently your clit. Breathing hard, you thought that a date could possibly lead to more. Maybe it was the start of a beautiful love story.

---

You were late. So late that even your great-grandmother was earlier than you. (RIP). People were buzzing around you in the bullpen. Looking left, you never saw the woman who came to your right. With a warm cup of coffee in her hands.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry." She exclaimed, while warm liquid drenched your new shirt.

New white shirt. Closing your eyes briefly, you pressed your lips together, feeling the lukewarm liquid sticking the fabric to your skin.

" Please, let me. " The red-haired woman said, taking the back of her sleeve and starting to wipe the stain forming on your chest.

Making it worse.

" I don't have time for this. " You groaned, trying to look for tissues in your shoulder bag. " I'm already late." " Oh. " She stopped. " You're our new Liaison recruited by Strauss. " The woman gasped, her blue eyes growing wide. " Oh my God, you're so late. " " I know. " You cried out, annoyed at yourself, wiping the stain that only grew bigger. " I was supposed to meet SSA Hotchner at 8:30. " You sighed, before groaning again. Why! " And, it's already 9:33. " The red-haired woman pointed out, glancing at the watch on her wrist. " I'm so fu- " " Garcia. " A booming voice called out from behind you.

A solemn voice. A controlled voice. A voice you heard before. Your body grew tense, a crippling feeling itching at the back of your head. The woman's eyes snapped behind you, her grimace spreading on her lips.

" He's here. " She told you her eyes still on the figure behind. "Don't worry, we don't see anything. " She glanced briefly at your shirt. "Almost. " She whispered. " I found our new Communication Liaison. " She smiled at the man behind you.

It couldn't be. Dread settle inside the pit of your stomach, you turned on your heels and saw a face you've seen countless times before. But this time, he wasn't worshipping your body, dark eyes full of lust and promises, and a malicious smile on his lips. No, this time, his face was professional, calm, and his brown-eyes were filled with frustration. Aaron. Your club Aaron, was SSA A. Hotchner, BAU Chief Unit. Your new boss. You recognised him. But he... He didn't. Thanks to the mask. You felt like fainting. Or vomiting. Fear making you shake slightly. Frowning his eyes slightly at you, just for a brief moment, his nostrils flared once before he took the last several steps to reach you and the woman, Garcia.

" You're late. " Aaron observed, his impassive eyes never leaving your face. " And this is my cue to go. " Garcia announced behind you, walking toward the back of the bullpen's space. " Do you think it's a good first impression, Agent? " Aaron started lecturing you, his voice full of authority. " To be late on the first day of your federal position. Where every minute counts. Every action, every case, every file counts. " He continued, his voice enunciating each words, making a point.

Biting your lips, you didn't know where to look. His angry gaze, or his mouth. The mouth you kissed two days ago. Promising him you will think about the date idea. His voice wasn't raised, but still, people in the office started to notice. Some glance at you, whispering. Others completely stop in their tracks, watching. Ashamed, you felt suddenly warm.

" Do you think that by arriving late, you show the professional respect to the work we do here? "

Humiliated. You shook your head, swallowing hard. Not trusting your voice right now. Will he recognize it?

" Good. " He concluded his cold eyes, scrutinising slightly the features on your face. " Garcia, could you show our late Agent to her office, please? " He asked, taking his phone from his vest's inside pocket. You heard a small yes coming from behind. Aaron looked at the screen between his hands. " I will see you at 2. " He turned around. " In the meantime, found another shirt. " He ordered, his sight never leaving the screen of his phone.

Aaron Hotchner left you, confused and mortified around your new colleagues. They resumed their work but you. You stayed standing there. Stuck. Looking at his retreating frame, you felt anxiety growing inside you. It was the same man who made you came four times at the club.

" Here, follow me. " A gentle voice nudged you from your reverie.

Garcia appeared in front of you, a small compassionate smile on her lips.

" Everyone saw. " You murmured, holding back tears. " It's ok. " She stroked your arm. " Those things happened. " She gently said, her warm eyes full of kindness. " Come on, let me show you how this place is run."

Following her, you felt something vibrate in your pant's back pocket. Taking your phone out, you saw a notification from the club's app. Aaron wrote to you. SSA A.Hotchner wrote to you. You used to be excited, happy to see his texts on the app. Talking about your next meeting at the club. But not today. Still following Penelope, half-listening to her explanations. Important things, but your mind was on something else. Did he recognise you? With shaking hands, you heart was pounding loudly inside your chest, you swipe on the screen to see the preview of his text;

" It's been two days, and I already miss you so much. I made a reservation at 8 next week. The Lucky Strike Please. I hope to see you there. -A. "

Maybe it was the start of a horrible nightmare. You were so fucked!

---

part two.