Archive of Our Own

Friday nights were always a good time to hunt.

Most people got their paychecks then and were keen to spend them. Mid-month was usually busier, but the bigger fish came out around the start of the month. Since most rent was due on the first, there was a higher chance that some poor chump would be carrying the money for it on them. If Zack and Rachel timed their kills just right and were lucky, they might only need one or two victims a month to keep them fed and make sure Zack's bloodlust was sated.

This was Rachel's idea. Zack had learned long ago to trust her with strategy since he had no head for it and she obviously did. It had kept them off the cops' radar so far, and that was good enough for him. So she picked their timing and targets and he usually carried out the execution. Rachel would normally loot the bodies afterwards to keep the mess down.

Rachel also selected their hunting grounds. Whether out of spite or simple necessity, she tended to favor patrons just leaving bars. Of course she hated drunks deep down, but they were also easy targets that tended to carry cash on them. If Zack cared or noticed, he never mentioned it; they were often inebriated enough to have satisfying enough expressions for him. Both of them got to scratch their itch, so there was no reason to complain.

This particular Friday was no different. They lay in wait in an alley near a bar down by the docks. The watermen worked hard and then spent what they'd earned on their fun. Rachel often found herself wondering if they had wives and children at home; she also wondered if they might consider it a blessing when their target didn't come home at the end of the night.

Well, either way, the end would be the same for one unlucky sap.

As they customarily did, Rachel lurked near the front of the alley, looking for their target. It was a mild spring night, so she was able to get away with wearing her favorite shorts and red letterman jacket without any fuss. The advantage to that was that she was able to show off a lot of leg if she wanted to; it always seemed to irritate Zack for some reason, but it was effective so he didn't fuss too much.

Zack himself was further back in the alleyway, just out of sight. The plan was for Rachel to lure one of the drunks back into the alley where Zack would pick them off; they had done it so many times at this point that it had become nearly mundane. So mundane that Rachel even wondered how much longer they could get away with killing with so little effort. She figured Zack would eventually grow bored with this little game and demand he be allowed to stretch his legs with a different routine. But for tonight, they were both ready to play.

Rachel spotted their prey, stumbling out of their chosen bar. He was a white, middle-aged man with greasy black hair, a red, puffy face, and a bit of a beer gut. With his button-up shirt and khaki slacks, he must have come straight from work to the bar and then stayed until then. Out of all the patrons filing out, he seemed the most inebriated and the most alone so far. As he drew closer to her vantage point, he fumbled with his car keys, leading Rachel to think that she and Zack were probably doing the community a service by preventing him from driving.

Just as he drew within sight of her, Rachel stretched one leg out of the alleyway and bent over to pretend to tie her shoe. Every time she pulled this maneuver, she could practically hear Zack scoff at it further behind her, but it was effective. Case in point, their mark had definitely noticed her and had begun stumbling in her direction. As she moved to stand straight again, trailing her fingernails up her bare leg, she gave the man a small smile.

“Hey, darlin'!” he called to her, slurring his words and leaving the crowd behind, “You need a ride home?” She did her best imitation of a giggle and stepped further back into the alley; as she passed out of the streetlights and into the shadows, the drunk man followed her, a lopsided smile on his face. He reached for her, fingers outstretched, and grabbed only air.

“Or maybe you're tryna do some work, huh?” he leered. It wasn't the first time a victim had mistaken Rachel for a prostitute, but that was always an advantage for them; while they were distracted trying to proposition her, Zack could get a jump on them. In fact, that seemed to wind him up in ways Rachel didn't quite understand. When Zack got to this man, it was certain to be more grisly than usual now.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “But you have to come further back.” He happily followed further into the alleyway, his face practically glowing in a sloppy grin. Before they could get far enough back for Zack to strike, though, the man was able to grab Rachel by her sleeve.

“Hey, baby, we don't have to go so far back,” he leered, “Let's just slow down for a second…” This man was much faster than any of their previous kills; so much so that Rachel was actually taken off-guard. Before she could protest, he had her back to the alleyway wall, squeezing her arms. As he loomed over her, she could smell a mixture of sweat, cigarettes, and beer.

“No, not here,” she said once she processed what had happened. It was unnerving, but not an irrecoverable setback. But just as Rachel lifted her hands to push him back, he clamped tighter onto her arms and leaned into her. She was stuck against the wall with his knee now between her legs, attempting to part them. She wasn't exactly scared; it was more like she was quickly becoming indignant at the waste of time. It was only when he leaned in for a kiss and Rachel barely managed to dodge it that she began to become worried.

“Hold still, ya slippery little bitch,” the drunk laughed, “I got the money to pay ya, so just gimme what I want!” He jerked her shoulders, snapping the back of her head against the brick wall he'd pushed her against. It wasn't hard enough to injure her, but it did smart.

“Maybe you'll like it so much you'll gimme a discount,” he slobbered, causing Rachel to flinch. Even if everything was exactly like this man thought, she seriously doubted that would ever happen. At the moment, however, she was more concerned with dodging his sloppy kisses; regardless of anything else, she didn't want her first kiss stolen by some drunk idiot.

“Yeah, takin' half off sounds great right about now!”

Rachel looked over their victim's shoulder to see the red glints where her partner's eyes should have been and the orange glow of the streetlights from the end of the alley reflecting off the metal of his scythe. The drunk had barely turned his head before he was slung down the far end of the alleyway. Zack had apparently hit him with the bar side of his scythe, judging by the lack of flying body parts or blood.

“That doesn't work if you don't actually cut him,” Rachel reminded him. As he turned to look at her, though, she felt a chill crawl up her back. Was he angry at her?

“I'll deal with you in a minute.”

Rachel blinked as he started trudging towards their victim, who was coughing at the end of the alley and trying to catch his breath. He was definitely angry with her.

“H-Hey!” the man stammered, “If you're her pimp, I got the money!” Rachel watched as Zack practically disappeared and then reappeared right in front of the guy, grabbing his shirt and jerking him in close. She couldn't hear what Zack said next, but after a few moments he released the man and sent him running and sputtering. Rachel expected Zack to let the man run for a little while before cutting him down, but he only allowed a few steps before slashing him. He didn't even make it back to where they'd left Rachel.

By the time Rachel reached the two, Zack was kicking the man in the ribs and swearing at him. He must have been in a foul mood; Rachel wondered why she hadn't caught it before they came out. As she bent down to go through the man's pockets, Zack rounded on her.

“Yo!” he practically yelled, “What the hell was that?! Get yer shit together, Ray!” As Rachel found his wallet and began rifling through it, she lifted her face to look at Zack. He was panting furiously; what had him so wound up? Was he impatient because it had taken longer than normal to get the prey to him?

“I'm sorry it took so long,” she offered. The man was actually good for the money he'd said he was; he was carrying enough on him to afford them a hotel for a couple of days as well as a few supplies and maybe even a pizza delivery or two. That should cheer Zack up. Rachel slipped the wallet into her pocket; she always kept the wallets to dispose of later. That way, even if the police did notice that his wounds weren't made by a regular knife, it would seem more like a strange robbery and less like a couple of serial killers.

“That's… That's not what I'm talking about!” he blurted out. He got one more good kick in before hoisting his scythe onto his shoulder. Rachel raised her eyebrows as she stood back up and looked curiously at him.

“Then what…”

“Tch, just forget it,” he huffed, “I don't wanna talk about it. C'mon, let's go.” If Zack didn't want to talk, it was a waste of time trying to convince him. Rachel stayed quiet and followed him back into the alleyway, away from the well-lighted street. With the money in her pocket, his mood was bound to improve.

Half an hour later, the pair were checked into the nearest sleazy motel they could locate. This one wasn't as bad as some others; the lady behind the plexiglass-protected front desk had asked no questions and, unlike normal in these situations, hadn't hit on Rachel. Better yet, there were no signs of bedbugs or roaches (Rachel was always keen to check), the plumbing all seemed functional, and best of all, there was a community laundry room. The front desk lady had informed her that she would need to have her own detergent, but that wouldn't exactly be a problem.

As soon as they opened the door to their room, Zack sat his scythe to the side with a heavy “thud". He was never overly rough with the thing, but Rachel recognized that as being about as much anger as he was willing to take out on it.

“I'm goin ta take a shower,” he grunted, pulling his soiled hoodie over his head and flinging it into the floor. Rachel puffed her cheeks up at this; even if it was just a crappy motel, he knew she would pick up after him. Besides which, with the availability of a washer and dryer, she had intended to do laundry as soon as she could.

“You could just hand it to me, you know,” she fussed, picking the bloody hoodie up off the ratty carpet. Zack looked fleetingly confused at her over his shoulder.

“Huh?” He hadn't even given it a thought, actually.

“I'm going to do laundry,” she explained, setting the jacket onto the television stand beside the TV, “I have to go get detergent first.” Zack paused and gave her a skeptical look before turning away again.

“Fine,” he sighed, “Just be careful. And don't talk to any weirdoes. Got it?" Rachel quirked an eyebrow.

“You're the only weirdo I talk to, Zack.” What was with him tonight? Either way, there was a 24-hour drug store just down the street; it would take less than twenty minutes to buy some overpriced laundry detergent and come back to start the clothes and order dinner. It would've been almost mundane if they hadn't started their night with murder. He seemed overly jumpy for what Rachel thought was no apparent reason.

With a snort, he turned away. Rachel slipped the room's key into her pocket as Zack disappeared into the bathroom. Once he was out of the room, she gave the beds a quick inspection for bugs and then turned to leave.

Being springtime still, the smell of rain was heavy in the night air. It was just chilly enough to avoid any mugginess and to justify Rachel's jacket, but not enough to be uncomfortable for a short walk. In fact, if they hadn't just picked off some poor drunk sap, Rachel wouldn't have minded sleeping outside that night. But having a couple hundred extra dollars would justify some level of luxury, even if it was just a hot shower and a pizza.

The inside of the drug store was so bright that it almost hurt Rachel's eyes. The cashiers seemed to be utterly distracted; if she hadn't had that money, it would've been a perfect time to shoplift. But since they'd just been paid, so to speak, it was an unnecessary risk that she just wasn't willing to take. Instead, she picked up a shopping basket and made her way through the store like the legitimate patron she now was.

The first order of business was stocking up on necessities. Shampoo, soap, and conditioner went into the basket next to the laundry detergent. Then she picked up a few bags of chips for Zack and popcorn and ice cream for her. Finally, she headed back to the health section to get some toothpaste and a few more rolls of bandages for Zack.

On the way back to the front of the store, she passed the racks of feminine hygiene and family planning products. Rachel got herself a fresh box of tampons for later in the month but then hesitated for a second in front of the condoms and lube, a bit of heat creeping across her face. Sure, she'd had thoughts like that about her companion before, but it was still a little embarrassing. Her gaze swept up and down the aisle to see if anyone was watching; satisfied no one was paying her any attention, she picked a black box from the shelf and shoved it underneath a bag of chips in her basket.

As she began moving to the checkout counter, she silently cursed herself. Why even get something like that? It wasn't like Zack had ever made any moves towards doing something like that with her; he'd really never even shown any interest in her at all, now that she thought about it. She hadn't thought about it at all when she first started travelling with him, actually. They were a team and they were going to be together until she died and that was as complicated as their bond needed to be. But now that she was older, she had become aware that there was something missing from their relationship.

Rachel wasn't exactly sure when or why she'd first noticed it. Maybe it was the romance novels she'd shoplifted from the supermarket to be able to have something to read. Or maybe it was the time she'd rented that adult movie in a hotel room by accident. Or maybe it was just her body finally becoming more adult and her thoughts following along. Whatever it was, she had begun to have untoward thoughts about Zack and it had also begun to be a bit upsetting that he didn't seem to feel the same.

At the same time, though, if something did happen, she would rather have been prepared than not. Besides which, the things had an expiration date years in the future; they had plenty of time to use them, if they were ever going to. There was no rush, so there was really no down side to getting them while she had the money.

As she passed the racks of magazines near the front, Rachel slowed to give them a glance. There were the normal fashion and recipe books, as well as crosswords, news monthlies, and sports magazines. Rachel had stretched her hand towards a copy of Dog Fancy when she saw it; a magazine sealed in black plastic with a non-descript logo on it. Curious, she picked it up and peeked behind the plastic wrap.

It was a men's magazine, judging by the snippets of a woman's body she could see on the cover. She thought she recognized the name of the magazine from the time she'd found her father's little collection of dirty books under the bathroom sink. If she remembered correctly, it was a particularly vulgar title, too. Cheeks on fire, she nearly put it back before a thought occurred to her.

Men liked these sorts of things, right? And Zack was a self-described normal adult male. Maybe if she left it where he could find it, he would get a few ideas. If the problem was just that he hadn't thought to see her as a woman, then maybe this would help with that. With that thought in mind and her heart thumping in her ears, Rachel stuffed the raunchy magazine into the bottom of her basket and made her way up front.

As the tired cashier appeared to check her purchases out, Rachel couldn't make eye contact. It was the first time she'd bought either condoms or a porno mag; what if the cashier thought she was a pervert? She pushed the thought out of her mind. She was an adult and they had those things there to buy, so it was normal that people bought them. Besides, she'd probably never see this woman again.

“ID, miss?” the clerk asked as she rang up the black-covered book. Rachel was nearly startled by the question but acknowledged her with a soft ‘oh'. Fumbling in her pockets, her fingers brushed against the room key and their earlier victim's wallet before finding her own wallet. Of course it was a fake ID; it had her real birthdate but her name was listed as “Rachel Foster". Zack's listed his name as “Zachary Gardner", so they'd jokingly called it a fair trade at the time.

The tired clerk glanced at her ID and nodded. The book went in the plastic shopping bag with the chips and bandages.

“Gift for your boyfriend?” the clerk asked, moving on to the condoms. Making small talk was the last thing Rachel wanted. Not only did she not want to discuss the subject matter, but unnecessary chatter was never a great idea given their situation. It was entirely possible her case was closed by now and she was presumed dead, but Zack was still on the feds' radar, even years later.

Still, it would be weirder not to answer, even if it was mortifying.

“Sorta,” Rachel offered. Well, it was technically not a lie.

“Ah,” the clerk acknowledged with another nod. “At least one of us will be having a fun night, then. There's your total.” It was about forty dollars. Rachel looked away mutely and pulled the money out of her pocket. She could barely wait to get her change before running for the door.

When she returned back to the motel room, Zack was still in the shower. Rachel put the snacks away – the room had a mini-fridge for her ice cream, at least – and slipped the condoms into the bedside table. Then she rapped on the bathroom door.

“Zack?”

“What?” he grumped back. Rachel set her mouth in a firm line. Even a nice shower hadn't gotten Zack out of his foul mood. He probably used all the hot water, too.

“I got shampoo and soap,” she offered. The shower didn't stop.

“There was already some in here.” His tone was stony. Rachel wrinkled her nose. Her hair turned into hay whenever she used the stuff motels put out, but she didn't argue. Let him turn into a fluffy brillo pad if he was going to be that way.

“I got you some fresh bandages,” she pressed on. She could practically hear him considering it through the door.

“Fine,” he finally relented. “Come in and leave them on the sink.” With a ‘hmph', she pushed the door open.

The bathroom was small, poorly lit, and steamy. The medicine cabinet over the sink was completely covered in water droplets, as was the dingy blue shower curtain. Rachel set the unopened boxes of bandages on the counter of the sink – the only flat surface besides the toilet – and moved to put the shampoo, conditioner, and soap on the edge of the bathtub.

As she did, just for a second she could see the briefest flash of wet skin, water pouring down it in sheets. She had known for a while that Zack’s scars only went down barely past his waist – she found that out the night she met him and sewed his stomach shut. What she had never quite realized was that it also meant that his ass was nearly flawless.

Choking down a squeal, Rachel drew back. If she didn't say anything, he probably wouldn't notice. She was disabused of that notion quickly; from the way Zack snorted, he must have realized she'd seen him. Covering her mouth with her hand, she backed away and went to distract herself by picking his discarded clothes up off the floor.

“I-I'm going to do laundry,” she stammered out. Was the heat of the bathroom getting to her? “What do you want for dinner?”

“Don't care,” he tossed her. Her cheeks puffed out again. He was stonewalling her and she couldn't even tell what the problem was. It was really beginning to get under her skin.

“Fine,” she snapped back, “I'll just get whatever I want!” She was resorting to passive-aggression now and she kind of hated herself for it. But really, it was Zack's fault, too.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

And with that, she stepped back out of the bathroom. As much as she wanted to, though, she refused to slam the door behind her. She'd heard too much of that from her parents as a kid.

Instead, she largely wanted to cry.

Shoving that urge down, Rachel put the dirty clothes on the TV stand with Zack's hoodie and began to change her own clothes. She had a sundress tucked into her backpack, so once she was dressed in that, she bundled up their dirty clothes into a plastic bag and went over to the laundry room with the girly mag she'd bought to get the clothes started.

After the clothes were loaded, she flopped into the rickety chair the motel had left for guests to wait on their clothes. She didn't intend to stay the entire time, but she wasn't ready to go back to the room just yet. Instead, she shoved the porno mag into the bottom of her bag to read it, in case anyone else came by the laundry room.

It wasn't like she and Zack never disagreed – they had differences of opinion all the time. But they rarely argued. Neither of them were very well equipped to deal with things like that; Rachel only knew how to either have screaming fights (which she hated) or cold passive-aggression, and Zack only understood outright aggression (which he was loathe to use against her). None of those approaches were a good way to deal with interpersonal problems, but neither of them knew the right way to deal with them either. So the rare times they fought would result in a cold war that could take days to resolve.

At least the dirty magazine was helping to take her mind off of it, even if it was still just a little mortifying to look through. It was page after page of slender blondes that bore a superficial resemblance to her, making ecstatic faces as they were penetrated by men whose faces were never quite captured by the camera. Some of the pictures told a story in sequence, but for the most part they were just sleazy set pieces with the women in uncomfortable-looking positions getting plowed.

As she flipped through it, Rachel wondered if Zack would even be interested in something like that. A worse thought occurred to her: maybe he would, just not with her.

With a displeased grunt, Rachel put the book back into her bag and trudged back towards their room. It hadn't helped at all; in fact, instead of angry, she now felt a bit morose. There was nothing left to do but to order dinner and avoid Zack until he decided to talk to her.

That part might have been easier said than done since Zack was busy toweling his hair off on the edge of the bed when she returned to the room. He’d changed into his sleeping pants, a soft, blue-black pair of jogging pants that Rachel had shoplifted him for Christmas last year. He had already wrapped his face, but his arms and chest were still bare; Rachel normally would have secretly appreciated the view, but at the moment his poor mood was too infectious for her to be able to really enjoy it. In fact, all Rachel got upon her entrance was a flicker of a golden glance and then more silence. Well, if he wanted to challenge her ability to not talk, she would be happy to oblige him. After setting the bagged book on the night stand, she found what she pretended to be the most interesting book in the world: the phonebook.

It wasn't just for show. It was more that she wanted to find the nearest pizza joint that delivered past 10 PM, but it also gave her a good excuse to ignore Zack. Finding the number she was looking for, she picked up the hotel phone to call. After a brief introduction, she went on to begin her order.

“One large pizza, please,” she said, her voice plain, “Pepperoni, mushroom, and jalapeno peppers.” She could practically feel Zack stiffen across the bed from her. She knew very well that he couldn't stand the spicy food for which she sometimes had a craving. His preference was almost always for sweet things. They usually had the pizza place split the toppings on their pizza whenever she felt like peppers, but this time the pizza was all hers.

“…extra peppers, actually…”

His hackles were definitely raised. It was like electricity. Rachel's lips twitched in a barely suppressed smile.

“Yes, that's all.”

“Ray.”

“Ah, hold on, I forgot. Another large pizza. Just cheese and pepperoni.” She could feel him relax, but knew he was still glaring at her. But she had already gotten the reaction she wanted from him, so she could let it slide. He had earned his part of the money, after all, so it wouldn't be right to actually not order him anything.

As she hung the phone up, though, the silence was thicker than ever. The TV wasn't even on to provide background noise. Instead, it was just their breathing and the sound of the rickety old air conditioning unit.

“Ray…”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Was he ready to talk already? It usually took him a day or two.

“Hm?”

The awkward silence continued, stretching the seconds ever thinner. He didn't turn to look at her.

“…nothin’. Forget I said anything.”

Rachel suppressed a groan of frustration. She wanted to point out that he hadn't said anything but held her tongue. Stone-faced, she got up and moved towards the bathroom.

“I'm going to take a bath.”

Forty minutes later, Rachel emerged from the bathroom. She was clean now, but no more pleased with Zack than she had been. After a quick return to the laundry room to switch the clothes to the dryer, she came back to the room to find Zack leaning against the headboard of the bed, listlessly flipping channels on the grainy motel TV. She knew better than to ask what he was watching.

There was only one bed in this room, so it wasn't like they were going to sleep separately. They usually slept together for warmth anyway, but having a room with heat and AC made that less necessary than when they slept rough. But at times like these, when they were fighting, he would usually just face the wall and ignore her all night. It nearly reminded Rachel of a sullen cat, although she'd never tell Zack that when he was in a bad mood.

Before she could sit down on the edge of the bed, though, there was a knock at the door.

“I’ve got it,” she offered quietly. Zack still hadn't put his bandages on over his chest and arms (at this rate he was probably just going to sleep without them) and he probably didn't want the pizza delivery guy to see his scars. Besides which, it was just better if he was seen by as few people as possible.

Upon opening the door, Rachel found a fellow about her age with sandy blonde hair, in a red and black hat and shirt.

“Hey,” he said with a smile and a tilt of his chin, “Two large pizzas?” Rachel nodded with a grunt of agreement. The delivery driver announced the total, which she handed over with a decent tip, before taking the pizzas off of him. As she thanked him and turned to close the door, he stopped it with his foot.

“So, uhh,” he started, still smiling. “I get off in about an hour. You party? I could come back with a six pack and keep you company.” Before she could even formulate a response, Zack had his hand on the door above her head. She looked up at him, curious. His fingers were digging into the wood as he stared down the hapless driver like an overprotective boogeyman. Looking back to the deliveryman, she could tell Zack's presence was already having its intended effect.

“She already has company,” he growled. His voice was dark and full of barely-restrained anger. The deliveryman went white as a sheet before stammering an apology and hurriedly getting back to his car.

Zack slammed the door shut before snatching a box of pizza from Rachel and turning back to the room with a muffled “dammit". Rachel hated the noise, but she was more confused by what had just happened. It reminded her intensely of something and it took her a minute to figure out what. Then it hit her; this was almost like what had happened earlier in the alleyway.

It seemed to happen after she'd talked to men. Now that she thought about it, he'd been getting snippy whenever men were too friendly with her for a while now. Whether it was the front desk attendant at some fleabag motel or the clerk at an all-night convenience store, if they made a pass at her, Zack was there to shut them down. It was such a normal part of their lives that she hadn't even given it any thought. That was just how Zack was.

By the time she sat down on her side of the bed with her pizza, things were beginning to click in Rachel's mind. She opened the box, picked out a piece and began to eat; as she did, she thought about what was different tonight. The pizza man wasn't much different from normal, but the situation in the alley was very much out of the ordinary. While she'd been hit on – even outright propositioned – many times, none of them had actually touched her before.

As she chewed, Rachel’s mouth turned down. Even if he was mad about that, he shouldn't be sulking and taking it out on her. While she went for another slice, Zack tossed his box into the floor at the foot of the bed and flopped down. She thought he'd only eaten one piece so far; he could sometimes finish an entire large pizza in one sitting if he was hungry enough, so he must have certainly been upset if that was all he wanted.

“I'm done,” he moaned, laying on his side away from Rachel. She raised an eyebrow, but her temperament towards him was beginning to thaw. Now that she understood a little bit of why he was being so obstinate, it was hard to be too angry with him.

“Do you not like it?” she asked, closing her own box.

“Don't feel like eating,” he mumbled to the wall. She figured he thought it was more truthful than to say he wasn't hungry. That did give Rachel an idea, though.

“Hey, Zack,” she asked, turning to him. He grunted in acknowledgment. “Did I hurt your feelings somehow?” He had to answer her honestly, so if she just asked the right questions, they could resolve this earlier than normal. After thinking for several long seconds, he deigned to answer her.

“…I dun wanna talk about it.”

Rachel set her own box of pizza aside in disgust. It was almost as if he knew she was trying to use his honesty against him and was actively outsmarting her at it.

“Ugh, now I don't feel like eating,” she muttered, standing up. “I'm going to get our clothes.”

When Rachel returned to the room, it was entirely dark. Zack had apparently turned off both the TV and the weak bedside light while she'd been gathering the clothes. Rachel set the clothes near their things and considered her options. She could watch some TV – she doubted he'd complain – but she did empathize with his desire to go to sleep. It was just better to crawl into bed and follow his lead for right now.

After changing into an oversized shirt, Rachel lifted up the covers and slipped underneath. Zack had turned towards the wall, leaving his back facing her; Rachel figured he was probably still feeling touchy. By the same token, it might be her chance to patch things up.

Slowly, Rachel made a show of getting comfortable. She could feel Zack tense as she pretended to toss and turn to find a good position. In reality, she felt a bit like a dying fish with how much she was flopping back and forth, but if she could convince Zack to talk to her it would be worth it. Finally, she was able to press her back to his. From there it would be a simple matter to turn around and hug him from behind.

After waiting a few long, tense minutes, Rachel finally rolled over and pressed her face and chest into Zack's bare back. She slung her left arm over his waist, causing him to tense and suck in a shallow breath through his teeth. She felt him wrap a hand around her forearm and for a second thought he'd throw her arm back; instead, his grip tightened and he held her there.

“Ray.”

“I'm cold,” she lied. He could surely tell she was lying and it would probably provoke him, but she didn't care at the moment. She just wanted things to be right between them.

“You're a bad liar,” he grumbled, giving her arm a squeeze. “Stop being such a brat.” That seemed to be his idea of a warning.

“I’m not a brat, you're a brat,” she mumbled into his back. Her lips brushed against his scarred skin as she spoke and it tempted her to kiss him there.

“You're a damn brat,” he shot back weakly, “Go to fuckin' sleep.”

“Not until you tell me what's wrong,” she replied, curling against his back. He tensed against her again.

“Goddammit, Ray,” he hissed, pulling away and rolling over to face her under the covers. It was dark, but her eyes had adjusted to be able to make out his features. His gaze was intense, the dull light reflecting off his angry eyes.

“Do you really never think about the kind of situations you're in?”

Rachel wondered if that had to do with the earlier episode in the alley, but now it felt like he was talking about himself. Either way, she tried to scoot closer to him and close the distance, but he grabbed her shoulder to hold her in place. It wasn't exactly enough to hurt, but his fingers were pressing hard into her skin nonetheless.

“Do you mean that man we killed earlier?” she whispered, lifting a hand to his wrist. He seemed to relax a bit as she wrapped her fingers around his hand.

“Yes!” he croaked before shutting his eyes. “No! I mean… even now! Have you really not noticed what position you're in right now?!” Rachel glanced at his hand and blinked. Did he mean that she should worry because he was a killer? That was absolute nonsense.

“But I want you to kill me…”

“Goddammit, Ray, that's not it!” Perhaps to demonstrate, he pushed her onto her back by her shoulder. In another second, he was looming over her, holding the thin motel blanket up like a tent over his back. His hand pressed her down into the mattress as she watched him, wide-eyed. He was breathing heavily now, and she could feel his breath on her face. She didn't know exactly what Zack was trying to scold her for, but the position they were in certainly reminded her of the smutty magazine she'd been reading earlier. Surely that was just her imagination, though, right? Maybe if she moved her hand up to cup his face…?

“You don't get it,” he growled, the pressure of his hand unrelenting. “You don't know the kinda shit men think about. Like that slobberin' asshole by the bar. I get it, though. I know what he wanted to do with you and it pisses me off.”

Rachel blinked up at him. So he was jealous. How silly; it wasn't as if any man could compare with Zack in her mind. She lifted her other hand, resting one on each cheek.

“Zack…”

“You're still doin' it, dammit!” he huffed, placing his other hand on her opposite shoulder. Rachel felt her heart thump in anticipation. He was close enough now that she could smell the soap he used earlier.

“Ray… I know what that asshole was thinking because I'm a guy, too, y'know?”

Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Was he saying what she thought he was?

“You want to… do things like that…? With… with me?”

“For someone so smart, you really can be dense sometimes,” he huffed, still looking decidedly unhappy. “Of course I wanna do that shit with you! I'm just the same as that asshole at the bar and even that glasses bastard! If I had half a chance, I'd plow you into the ground, you stupid brat. So now that you know I'm a fuckin' pervert too, roll your ass back over and go the fuck to slee--"

Rachel didn't let him finish his sentence. Instead, she gripped his cheeks and brought him down to meet her face. With a small, muffled noise, she pulled Zack into a kiss. It was the first time she could remember kissing or being kissed by anyone, and that thought made her heart swell. It wasn't some stranger forcing himself on her; it was the man she loved.

His fingers flexed into the skin of Rachel's shoulders, as though he couldn't quite decide on whether or not to allow her to continue. And to Zack's credit, he was being remarkably restrained in allowing her to kiss him without pushing back much against her. Without him doing much more than barely kissing back, though, Rachel pulled back first.

“Ray…”

His voice was rough and needy and Rachel loved it. But it also seemed to be like a warning. She couldn't help the weak smile that crept to her lips.

“I didn't think you were interested.” She confessed. “I mean… My body's not great and my eyes are dead and my smile sucks.” Zack didn't move back away from her; in fact, he slid a knee between her legs, moving further over her.

“Of course I'm fuckin' interested,” he hissed. “I have eyes, Ray. But I'm not the kinda asshole that'd try to make you do something you don't wanna.” Her eyebrows puckered up in a small, concerned frown. She smoothed a hand over Zack's forehead, brushing his hair out of his face.

“What if I want to?”

His chest heaved with a barely restrained chuckle. But he really seemed relieved.

“Then you shoulda said something sooner,” he said, flashing his teeth. “Instead of leavin' your porn out for me to find.” Rachel felt her cheeks heat up.

“I was curious,” she weakly protested. “And I thought you might like it.”

“Ray, you know I don't read.”

“No one gets those books to read them, Zack.” Her eyebrows pinched; they really were a perfect pair with just how dense the two of them could be. “Besides, you still could’ve said something yourself. And… you could apologize for making me worry, too.” As she spoke, her hands trailed down his jaw to rest behind his neck. The implication was clear; with her hands there, she could draw him in for another kiss. Normally, Zack would probably rebel against being scolded like that, but this time he just sighed and lay his forehead against hers.

“Yeah, you're right,” he murmured. “For as much as I've bitched at you to make your own decisions, I've been acting like a little bitch, too. Sorry I was an asshole about it. But…” He released her shoulder with his left hand, sliding it down to her hip. He gave her a light squeeze before running his fingers over her ass and down to her thigh. Rachel felt her heart thump against her ribs as he pulled her leg up to hitch at his waist. As he settled himself completely between her legs, she could feel the already half-hard erection hiding in his bedclothes. She swallowed the lump in her throat; he hadn't been kidding about what he wanted to do with her. Before he spoke again, he moved his face to brush his cheek against hers, putting his lips right against her ear.

“If you tell me it's okay, I really will fuck you, Ray. So… can I?”

To punctuate, Zack grinded against her, letting her feel exactly how much he wanted her. Rachel suppressed a gasp; they were really going to do it, weren't they? She was usually unflappable, but this situation had her totally flustered. To whit, she stammered the first thing that came to mind.

“I got condoms?”

Zack leaned back away from her to give Rachel a puzzled look. The orange streetlights that flooded the room from the front window had peeked under their blanket, lighting him from the side so that Rachel could see him a little better. What she could see of him absolutely stole her breath, even as he looked at her like she was an alien.

“What'd you get those for?”

“S-So I don't get pregnant?” Mortification began to set in. Was she really going to have to explain it to him?

“I know that part!” Well, at least she wasn't the only one flustered. “I mean… what made you get them?”

“Even if I wasn't sure you liked me like that, I-I thought it'd be best to be prepared,” she explained, her face on fire, “Just… Just in case…” It was almost as if she could see his blush through the bandages.

“At least one of us thinks ahead,” he sighed. “Okay, good, where are they?”

“The nightstand.”

Without even leaving his spot between her legs, Zack reached over and yanked the drawer of the nightstand open. Sure enough, there was the box just as Rachel left it. With no preamble, Zack tore into it with the enthusiasm of a kid at Christmas. Having finally freed the latex ring from it's wrapping, mostly with his teeth, he held it up between his bare fingers and grinned.

“Ray, you….”

She found herself holding her breath.

“…you gotta show me how to put this on. I've never done this before.”

Rachel propped herself up on her elbows. Was he admitting he was a virgin too? Well, it was reassuring that they would learn together, at least. A little part of her was also secretly satisfied that he'd never had another woman before. That meant that all of him would belong to her, didn't it? All of her already belonged to Zack, as far as she was concerned, so this made them even.

“Here,” she offered, extending her hand. “They taught us how to do this in middle school.” He handed it over with a grunt before moving his hands to his waistband.

“Well, whaddaya know,” he chimed with a grin as he shoved his pajama pants down to his knees. “School was good for somethin' after all!” Rachel barely caught what he'd said; she was too busy staring at what he'd just revealed. His scars ended just below his navel, but Rachel already knew that. What was more interesting was that there was a dusting of thin, black hair just underneath that, leading down to the base of his bare, erect cock.

Rachel studied it intently. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a man's member; obviously, she'd seen pictures earlier that night. But seeing it in person and realizing that it had always been a part of Zack that she hadn't been able to see until then, that was something else. Of course it didn't seem as ridiculously big as the guys in the magazine, but she figured those were edited anyway. No, Zack’s cock was real and warm and pulsing in front of her, with little folds of skin and veins and a small bead of liquid at the tip. Rachel was suddenly curious what it would taste like if she put it in her mouth.

“Dammit, Ray,” he grunted, sitting back on his knees, “You keep staring like that and I'm gonna get performance anxiety or somethin'.” Rachel blinked, her cheeks burning, and got ahold of herself again.

“Sorry,” she murmured before reaching towards him with her free hand. “I've just never seen one in person before. Should I… Can I put it in my mouth…?” Zack's expression lit up at that, but Rachel didn't see it. Her eyes were on his lap.

“You wanna give me a blowjob?” he asked. Rachel nodded, unable to meet his eyes, even in the dark. “Hell yeah! Never had one of those before! Get over here!” As loathe as she was to leave her position with her legs around him, she obliged, sitting up and then leaning down to meet him.

Keeping the condom in one hand, Rachel wrapped both hands around him, nearly engulfing his entire length, and gave him a light squeeze. His skin was surprisingly soft and pliant, shifting over the firm muscle with each movement of her hands. As she leaned closer, heart pounding and lips quivering, she could smell him; he smelled clean, slightly of cheap motel soap, but ultimately still had the light musk that Rachel figured must belong to men. Warmth spread to her breasts and down to her lower stomach as she leaned forward to run her tongue along Zack's shaft.

She started halfway down and worked her way up, vaguely recalling some of the pictures she'd seen earlier that evening. When she reached the tip, she lapped up the small dribble of precum and tried to burn the taste into her memory. Zack hissed through gritted teeth as she slipped his head into her mouth; he tasted salty and a little sweet as he rolled over her tongue. As Rachel pursed her lips around him and began suckling, she could feel his breathing deepen. He laid a hand on her head and as she moved, he followed. Within a few moments, he was unconsciously thrusting against her, reaching the back of her mouth.

“Shit, Ray,” Zack growled, flexing his fingers into her hair. Rather than answer vocally, she slowly withdrew him nearly entirely from her mouth before devouring him again. She could get about half of him in her mouth and a perverse part of her wanted to try to take all of him inside. They could always do this again, though; for as much as Rachel was enjoying the taste of his cock, even she wasn't patient enough to wait much longer.

Finally having had her fill, she drew back, a strand of saliva left shimmering between her tongue and the head of Zack's cock. She couldn't help but to keep stroking him with her hand, though; this part of him, she wanted to know everything about it, too. Even more than that, she wanted to possess every little part of it, from his balls to his wet, slick tip. This wasn't something that would ever be satisfying without him being alive, though. The way it throbbed and twitched and pulsed under her hands and in her mouth was too exquisite.

“I like the way you taste,” she whispered, releasing him to begin preparing the condom. “But next time, I want to see what it tastes like when you cum in my mouth. Maybe after the next time you kill…” She pinched the tip before fitting it snugly on the tip of his cock. She could hear Zack laugh lightly as she rolled the latex down onto him. His fingers curled in her hair, tugging it just a bit.

“You really are a little pervert, huh?” he purred. “You can have my dick whenever you want it from now on. But I got other plans for you right now.” She finished preparing him and looked up to meet his eyes. They were glinting red, just like when he moved in for the kill; it was something Rachel was beginning to feel, too. That possessiveness that used to scare her so, it was so seductive at that moment. Was it really that bad to desire Zack this intensely? Unlike that other time, though, she didn't want him dead and eternally still; she wanted him alive and holding her down, throbbing with life as he entered her body.

She had no more time to think about it before he was on her. He'd pinned her by the shoulders again, sitting neatly between her legs and pressing against her panties. She could hear his breathing, panting in anticipation. Rachel shivered, anxiously awaiting his next move.

Having no need to keep her pinned down when she was so eager to have him, Zack let his hands wander. He smoothed down Rachel's nightshirt, trailing roughly over the small mounds of her breasts. Her nipples eagerly pressed against the palms of his hands; he gave her a firm squeeze before continuing on down over her stomach. Rachel shuddered in delight. What he did with his hands next, though, reduced her to a trembling mess.

“Let's see how ready you are,” Zack huffed. He didn't even bother trying to take her panties off; instead, he pulled them to the side, stretching the elastic legband open. With his other hand, he traced a line right over her clit with his pointer and middle finger, before tucking both into the soft, slick fold right underneath. Her body consumed them easily; Rachel was so wet that Zack's fingers faced practically no resistance. What was more strange to her was that she hadn't noticed how wet she was before he did this; now, as he worked his digits in and out of her slick walls, the juice had begun to noticeably leak out. It had already soaked her panties and had begun coating her outer lips, sliding down to her bottom in a small stream. She could even hear what he was doing; the squishing of his fingers was making her hotter still.

Glancing up to his face, Rachel could see that Zack was utterly preoccupied with playing with her. He seemed fascinated whenever he pressed into her, softly cackling to himself as he did. Rachel felt a swell of pride along with the pleasure. It was her he was penetrating, only her. To encourage him, she lifted her hips to engulf more of his fingers. He was in up to his knuckles, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Zack,” she called softly, egging him on, “It feels so good but… you can put more in, right? I want more inside.” She reached down with one hand to tug at her underwear where he was holding them open, then stroked his fingers to let him know she was taking over for him. That allowed him to free his hand to move to his cock instead. Then his eyes flicked up to meet hers, that predatory grin spreading to his entire face.

“So what do you want?” he breathed, giving her a couple hard, final thrusts with his fingers. “What do you want me to put in here, Ray? You're so wet right now, you could probably take my whole cock at once.” Even as he taunted her, he pulled his fingers out with a slippery noise. His scarred fingertips played around the edges of her lips, spreading them apart and stroking them affectionately. A moment later, she felt something cool and slick nestle in between where his fingers were working. Zack was right at her entrance; all he had to do was push forward just a bit and he would be inside her. Rachel couldn't help but writhe at the attention, barely holding back from impaling herself on him.

“C'mon, Ray,” he huffed, his breathing growing heavier, “It's so hard to hold back… I wanna be inside you… But I want you to beg for me, too…” Rachel's eyes lit up at the desperation in Zack's voice. She knew exactly what to say.

“Zack, please,” she begged, laying a hand on her breast, “Please… fuck me.”

Upon hearing this, Zack's eyes flashed and his sharp smile spread from ear to ear. Rachel barely had time to register the growing pressure below before he'd slipped inside her. It happened so fast; she could tell the tip was inside, but he hadn't pressed in very far yet. With a hiss, he pulled back far enough that they were almost disconnected; Rachel whimpered her displeasure at that, but she thought she understood. He was working his way into her slowly, but she could feel his impatience in the way he was squeezing her thighs.

Then he was inside, really inside her. Rachel didn't think he was all the way in, but she was already full and nearly uncomfortably so. There wasn't much friction – she was still so slick – and the stretching to accept him wasn't painful, but he had struck a place inside her that felt so good that it hurt and made her cry out. As soon as she did, she brought her free hand to her mouth to bite her knuckle. Zack had already pulled back again, his hair now hiding his face; her inner muscles had tightened from the intrusion, allowing her to feel him intently as he moved. She could tell from his heavy breathing that he was steeling himself.

“Shit… it's tight,” he breathed, “Ray… you okay?” Rachel nodded, her eyes half-lidded and watering. She hadn't meant to worry him. It was just that it felt so intense that she couldn't keep quiet.

“Do it again,” she whimpered, reaching for his shoulder. “Just… Just like that.”

Her pleading had the desired effect. Exhaling a rough sigh, Zack snapped back into her with a grin. He was all the way back inside her now, buried to the hilt and pressing hard against her soft outer lips. It was a sharp jab into her tight inner walls, right into that delicious spot he'd struck before, and Rachel couldn't hold her voice back from the impact. She was sure she could be heard from outside the room, but that wouldn't be strange for this place either.

What was he ramming into? Was this what her g-spot was supposed to be? Or just a sensitive spot? Or maybe that was just what sex felt like? After a second, the pain of the sharp stroke subsided and her body was awash with pleasure. It was nearly dizzying, and when next he struck it a few seconds later, it ached again but was much sweeter this time.

Zack was leaning into her now, his hands having traveled to her lower thighs, spreading her legs wide so that he could have a place to work. As he did so, Rachel could feel him more intently, pressing deeper still into her and molding his body to hers. It almost felt as if the boundaries between the two of them were fading, leaving them one hot, pulsing being. They often worked fluidly together as a unit, but this felt like the natural progression of that concept into its ultimate expression.

With both hands, Rachel reached up to pull Zack down into another kiss, erasing another border between them. He eagerly kissed her this time, nipping her lips with his teeth and lapping at her with his wet tongue. His kisses were clumsy but earnest, mimicking what he'd probably seen on TV before; then again, Rachel had no experience either. She was eager to learn with him, though, pressing back against him with her tongue. The kiss was so deep that she very nearly forgot to breathe; she only had time for a quick, deep gulp of air before Zack returned to their feverish kiss.

Below, he continued his sharp, frantic strokes; Rachel realized that the place Zack had been thrusting into no longer hurt when he hit it. Instead, each pounding thrust sent pure molten pleasure through Rachel's body, even causing her toes to curl. Her body had begun to relax and accept him more, allowing him to fit comfortably, entirely inside her. And from the way he was thrusting, strokes rough, hard, heavy, and quick, Rachel hazily realized that Zack must have also been feeling wonderful.

The room was full of the sounds of their lovemaking. Zack's raspy breathing mixed with Rachel's sharp gasps and breathy moans. The old bedsprings creaked from the force of Zack's thrusts, certainly not for the first time. At first, Rachel had tried to contain the noise she'd been making; as they continued, though, she found that the more her voice came out, the better she felt. At the moment, though, she was whimpering directly into Zack's mouth, muffling her cries.

He was the first to break the kiss, pulling back with a groan of his own. Down below, though, he didn't hesitate to continue his assault. With each primal stroke, Rachel cried out a bit louder than the last, until the room echoed with her voice.

“Shit, Ray,” Zack huffed with a chuckle, “You sound like you're dyin'… Makes me even hotter for you…” His own voice was strained from the intensity of the pounding he was giving her, but Rachel found that even more intensely erotic. She thought for a second that she might not be able to formulate an answer, but she found her voice a moment later.

“If you killed me like this,” she panted, distracted by how deeply she could feel him, “I could die happy.” She only half meant it, but just the thought of dying with Zack inside of her, naked, slick, and hot, was almost enough to steal her breath entirely.

“I'm gonna kill you like this at least twice a day from now on,” he chuckled. That promise resonated in Rachel's mind, striking as deep as Zack currently was inside of her. With his next stroke, she cried out sharply, the heat spreading from the point of contact throughout her inner muscles. It reverberated through her stomach and thighs and settled in her lower spine. A sudden wave of coolness washed over her, catching her voice in her throat and causing her eyes to snap fully open. Something was pulsing inside her, like a muscle flexing, allowing her to feel Zack so intensely that it was overwhelming.

Rachel froze, trying to process what was happening to her body. Her vision went hazy, blurring around the edges, causing the room to become much darker than it should have been. Waves of heat washed through her body, made noticeable by the slight chill that followed each one. She sucked in a breath, the air bringing her back into herself as her climax faded into comfortable warmth.

“Zack…”

Rachel's eyelids drooped as she found his face with her hands again, drawing him back down for a kiss. He obliged, not losing his rhythm as he continued rocking into her. Their connection was much slicker now from the gush that had followed in the wake of those waves of heat; Rachel could feel herself tingle where they were joined, her body now not only used to Zack but fully molded to him. After another few moments of their deep kiss, Zack broke away to whisper against the side of her mouth.

“You got real tight all of a sudden, Ray,” he murmured, “You cum?” Rachel gasped; Zack wasn't exactly known for having a filter when he spoke but hearing him be utterly filthy pleased her somewhere on a deep, visceral level. As his voice sank into her, she could feel the heat return, weaker than before but still intense enough to cause her to breathe sharply.

“Yes!” she replied, voice brittle as glass, digging her fingers into Zack's shoulders. “Zack, you too! You have to cum too!” His grip on her thighs tightened as she said that, angling her passage up to meet him more completely.

“The fuck you think I'm tryna do?” he grunted, his strokes becoming harder and slower. Even as Rachel rode that second wave of pleasure to its conclusion, the force with which Zack pressed into her still caused her to gasp. He barely even pulled out as he moved; it was almost as though he was trying to get as far inside her body as he could go.

Even as she was becoming slightly more numb thanks to the orgasms, Rachel could still feel him intently. She bore down, caressing him with her inner walls. While he was still inside her, he was all hers: her wonderful, scarred, perfect man. Her fingers relaxed, fanning across the mottled skin of his shoulders and moving to his back, pulling him close.

“Fuck, Ray!”

Rachel barely registered as Zack let the vulgarities flow. But she could feel the difference in how he moved and how he felt inside her. He struck deep and hard, pressing that painfully sweet spot in the far back of her passage again. One, two, three intense thrusts before he hesitated and gave her another. Then his cock was much warmer than before, the thin barrier between them filling with his hot seed. It wasn't quite enough to send her back over the edge again, but Rachel didn't mind. She was already quite content.

After a few more unsteady thrusts, they both lay still for a while, breathing deeply against one another. Rachel's mind was pleasantly blank for once, as though the position she and Zack were in currently was the most natural she'd ever known. He lay his head down on her shoulder to plant lazy kisses on her neck; she tightened her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly while he leaned into her. He hadn't withdrawn from her yet and she was in no hurry to remind him to.

Although they had finished, the room wasn't entirely quiet. The sounds of their heavy breathing mingled with the humming of the AC and the rain that had started outside. The orange light from the streetlights outside leaked past the heavy curtains, casting the room in an otherworldly glow. This motel room at this moment, this was their own private universe.

“Zack,” Rachel finally muttered after holding him against her chest for what felt like a small eternity, “That was wonderful.” He lifted his head from where he'd been attempting to give her a hicky and leaned against his elbows, caging her between his arms.

“Just wonderful?” he asked. “You were makin' way more noise than just ‘wonderful'. You're usually quiet, but you're a bigger pervert than me, Ray.” As he spoke he withdrew from her, leaving Rachel to miss his warmth. Her underwear slid back into place to cover her, although they were certainly soaked from their union already. Sitting up a bit, he slipped the full condom off and, nose wrinkling, carefully tossed it into the wastebasket beside the nightstand. Then Zack settled back between her thighs, clearly reluctant to let her go. He could stay there all night, as far as Rachel was concerned.

“I couldn't help it,” she pouted, “You made me feel too good.” He moved back to worrying her neck with kisses while Rachel held him to her, wrapping a leg over his hip. He slid a hand up her nightshirt, lazily travelling over her stomach to cup her breast; he played with it idly, gently squeezing and rolling the hard, pink nipple between his fingers. Rachel didn't think he wanted a second round that night, but she wouldn't mind going to sleep while he played with her either.

“An’ I'll do it again, too. Let's do it again in the mornin',” he murmured. “Maybe the afternoon, too. We can pay for an extra day here. Shit… We coulda been doin' this all along. I was a fuckin' idiot.” Rachel stroked his hair languidly, an affectionate smile painting her face outside of his field of vision.

“We're both idiots, Zack,” she replied softly. If he heard her, he made no indication of it.

But shortly afterward, his hand slowed and then stopped while his breathing leveled off. He'd fallen asleep and Rachel wouldn't be too far behind him. The room descended into the soft white noise of rain, air conditioning, breathing, and the occasional car driving by on the slick road outside, lulling Rachel to sleep along with her satisfied body. She held Zack close to her, pressing her nose into his hair, and joined him in slumber.

The first of the month was always a good time to hunt, and Friday nights were the best.

It had been nearly a month since their last kill. They had made do with what they'd gotten from their last victim, stretching and pinching pennies, but that wasn't why they were both eager to get on with it.

This time it was a younger brunette man, but still older than both Zack and Rachel. This one at least had the good sense to keep his hands to himself; that hadn't saved him in the long run, but Rachel at least appreciated his manners. She also appreciated the rent money he'd been carrying on him, too. That would do them handsomely for the rest of the month if need be.

As she rose, pocketing the stolen wallet, she looked to her partner. Zack was leaning against the wall of the alley, far removed from the light of the semi-busy street, hands in his hoodie's pockets and his scythe propped beside him. He was much more relaxed than on their previous outings, humming to himself and nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rachel thought it was adorable.

More than that, though, the blood and the darkness and the smell of coming rain were exciting her senses. She hadn't forgotten what she'd been looking forward to for the past month. Judging from the smile on Zack's face, he hadn't forgotten either.

“You ain't ready to go yet, are you?” he asked as though he already knew the answer. Rachel stepped over the cooling body and moved into the shadows with Zack. He was still so much taller than her, but it wouldn't be a problem for what she had in mind.

“Of course not,” she replied evenly. “I want to give you your reward.” She put no effort into being seductive or flirty. This was just a matter of fact, something she wanted and that Zack had promised her that first night. The smile she received in return was eager and sincere as he stroked her hair.

“Isn't it really your reward?” he laughed, “Greedy Ray. It's dangerous to hang around the scene of a crime.” For once, Zack was the voice of reason. Rachel was determined, though, and she knew his protests wouldn't amount to much. The thrill of such a compromising position made everything more exciting, after all. Besides which, she had already undone his pants while he was talking. Slipping her hand inside his boxers, she could feel that he was already responding to her touch.

She sank to her knees right in front of him, but she could still hear his soft laughter. His hand remained on her head, fully aware of what she was about to do. There was no shyness in them about these sorts of things anymore; they'd had plenty of practice lately, after all. But the thing she wanted most – a mouthful of his fresh cream after a kill – she hadn't managed to get just yet. Rachel's mouth watered in anticipation.

“We still have plenty of time.”