Chapter Text
Somewhere in Nevada…
2bDamned woke up from his biweekly caffeine crash with a splitting headache and a back that hurt so badly he had a hard time getting up at all. His fibromyalgia must’ve left him effectively paralysed the night before, because he’d fallen asleep in his old, lumpy loveseat rather than his soft bed. His last thoughts had probably been about how he’d regret it when he woke up, and now he did.
His neck popped painfully as he rubbed the back of his neck, and when he eventually stood, it took a few tries to get upright. He stumbled his way into his bathroom, grabbed the pills set aside for him the night before, and then gulped them down. No chaser. His shoulder was rolled until it could function, and then he brushed his yellowed teeth.
For some reason he’d taken off his mask and bandages, exposing the scarring on either side of his face. Why had he done that? He thought for a moment, trying to massage his headache away, and then sighed.
Because the others had gone out on a mission. They should be back by now. His black and white hair flopped back and forth, matted beyond immediate repair, as he tied his face back up, slipping on his mask and then walking out of his room. He paused, though, as he found himself staring into the endless stretches of Nevada. The front door across the hall was wide open, swinging lazily on its hinges as the desert wind drifted in to chill the house. 2BDamned growled and slammed it behind him as he hustled off to find the mercenaries.
Who the hell left the door open? Who broke the one house rule? Who was getting skinned?
He stalked into the living room, groaning. There all three of the idiots were: splayed on the couch or—in Sanford’s case—laying on the floor in a moaning heap. Deimos was curled over Hank’s hips and then tucked under his arm like a twisted body pillow, and Hank’s metal jaw was cracked open with a trickle of drool running down the side. 2bDamned stared at them for a bit—somewhat in disbelief that something managed to bring not just one but all three of them to this state, and then crossed his arms.
“Ahem,” he grunted. When nobody moved, he tried a little more gruffly. “Ahem!”
Deimos was the first to stir, and Hank didn’t take too kindly to that, squeezing him tighter and growling. “Wimbleton, let go of him.” At the mention of his name, Hank’s eyes snapped open under his crooked goggles. He then winced as if the action had caused a wave of pain to rattle through his skull.
“Docc…” he complained with his deep, synthesized voice as he let go of Deimos. The hacker stirred again and this time, without Hank holding onto him, fell to the floor on top of Sanford, who jolted awake and then grabbed his own head with both hands.
“Fuck…” he started, looking back at Deimos. “You ok, baby?”
“Aaaahg…” he groaned back, his sharp teeth having bit into his lip. Once all three of them were able to look up, Sanford still shielding his eyes against the humming fluorescents, Doc spoke.
“Someone left the door open.”
“It was Hank,” Deimos immediately blubbered through his now swelling lip. “Tolbd himb not to.”
Hank stared at Doc for a moment, and then pointed at Deimos. He knew damn well who Doc was more likely to believe, but honestly, seeing all three of them like this made the medic feel a bit more generous. He’d skin Deimos later.
“What happened to you three?” It was quite obvious that they were all hung over, but still. Sanford held Deimos in his arms, rubbing his thumb against his busted lip, and then smiling at Doc nervously.
“Took a little detour on the way home, last night,” he admitted.
“Club Advent?” offered Doc, earning a nod from the bulky grunt. Made sense. The three of them barely ever took trips to Nevada Central—mostly because Doc knew they weren’t the most suited for large crowds. Sanford rubbed the side of his head, his curly, dark hair springing out as his durag rolled back against his scalp. It was hard for Doc to stay mad at him when he was so pretty, but he knew deep down it was his idea. Hank was too antisocial for clubbing and Deimos… well, Deimos would’ve probably suggested it, but Sanford always made the final call on stuff like that. “You didn’t give the VendeVice trouble, did you?” Doc asked. “We already have a strained relationship with them.”
“Nah, we kept to ourselves,” answered Sanford dutifully. “I’d be surprised if they even knew we were there.” Doc then watched as a shit-eating grin crawled across Deimos’s face.
“Speak for yourself,” he said smugly.
All eyes flicked to him and, after a swath of silence so still you could hear a pin drop, Doc snarled, “what did you do?”
“I-I didn’t fuck with the VendeVice!” Deimos argued defensively. “I just uh… fucked with someone.”
“Someone?” Sanford asked.
Deimos nodded and predictably started bragging. “It was pretty sweet. Cute chick was all over me at the bar so we hooked up.” He bit his lip, and then immediately regretted it as blood trickled down his chin.
Sanford chuckled, “shame. Should’ve invited me. Could’ve brought the girl I pulled last night.”
“Shit, you too?”
“You two talk like frat boys,” Doc said. “Can I please have those hard drives you all got from the Nevada Central branch?”
“Oh yeah, like you haven’t had wild nights, before.”
“You don’t see me bragging about it,” Doc sneered, “besides, I know how to mark you so it shows without saying.” Deimos’s cheeks turned red, and Sanford chuckled, digging into his other pocket after his right yielded no results.
“He got you there.”
“Yeah yeah.” Deimos dug into his pants pockets—first the left and then the right—before freezing.
“Uh… Sanford, did I give you mine last night? I can’t…” He glanced at Doc, who’s glare was quickly turning into a scowl, “… seem to find it?”
“Give me a minute, bud, I’m having a hard time finding mine.”
Sanford froze suddenly, and then both turned to Hank with pleading expressions. Hank dug into one pocket and then shook his head.
“Uh oh,” Deimos said. Doc put a hand to his face.
“Goddammit,” he hissed. “You fucking idiots. Don’t tell me all three of them are gone.”
“I swore I had mine when we went into the bar last night!” Deimos argued. “I was fidgeting with the little slider the whole ride there!”
Sanford was far more methodical, stating bluntly, “I had mine when I was at the bar… That was the last time I touched it.”
Doc looked at Hank, who growled, “Same.”
“Why didn’t you leave them in the car?”
“You said they were important! We thought they’d be safer on us!” Doc paused, and then sighed.
“Ok. That doesn’t leave us with many options,” he said, and then he pointed at Sanford. “Sanford, retrace everyone’s steps. I’m going to go notify the Nevada Central branch.” Sanford nodded as he left, and then turned to Deimos.
“You heard the man. Deimos, you go first.”
“Jeez,” the little hacker started, “if you insist I guess I’ll start when I last remember fidgeting with it~”
“Why did you say it like that?”
Deimos had spotted the woman sitting at the bar about two drinks ago, and damn, was she looking more enticing by the sip.
She sat with her legs crossed, chatting with the bar tender with her lips curled up in a confident yet polite smile. The only way he could make out her dark umber hair was the glow sticks fastened around her neck, and even then the green tinted it yellow. Her dress was unphased by the light, though. It was dark red like a rich wine and split along the side, allowing for the aforementioned leg-crossing.
He wanted to go up to her so bad, but Sanford and Hank were keeping to themselves, and Deimos didn’t want to just sneak off. Employers forbid Sanford went looking for him. It wasn’t that Deimos couldn’t have a fling—quite the opposite. Sanford would want in or at least to play wingman, and while he was well meaning, he was also very intimidating. Deimos was at least a little smaller than ‘looming giant’ height, and the lady he had his eye on seemed a bit fragile at a distance.
“Hey, Sandy,” he said, “I’m gonna go and pay off the tab.”
“Really?” the large man asked. “That doesn’t sound like something you’d—”
“You can pay me back later.”
“And there it is. Alright, fine.” Sanford ruffled Deimos’s hair as the smaller grunt skittered off.
After a brief pause to adjust his shirt and such, he approached the woman, trying to be slow so as to not startle her and looking off to the side. How was he going to approach this? He slipped his hand into his pocket, messing with the drive and then pausing as he caught her glancing at him. Well, might as well go for it.
“So,” he started slyly, “did it hurt?”
It was a classic. There was no way she didn’t fall for it.
“Are you about to ask if I fell from heaven?” she asked back after a brief pause. She took a sip of her drink and he cleared his throat.
“Nah,” he started. “Thought you’d climbed out of hell, instead. Only way you could be so hot.”
She didn’t respond, and the bartender was definitely judging him, but then she snickered.
“You got more of those?” she asked, her yellow eyes lighting up. Deimos smirked.
“Hm… Yeah, but I charge extra for them. Can’t have my expert techniques getting out.” Her shoulders shook as she laughed, and then she leaned into her hand. Deimos’s cheeks bloomed red as she traced a hand down his jacket.
“Not even if I ask nicely?” Her voice was sultry and warm as she gave him smouldering, half-lidded eyes. Deimos swore for a moment he was staring into the last embers of a dying fire. He had to squint one eye shut just to contain some semblance of composure.
“Ooh, you’re playing with fire,” he said, smoke rolling up his lips and nose as he hissed. He couldn’t deny that he was getting hard, and she knew damn well what she was doing.
“I don’t burn easily,” she whispered.
Fuck, maybe he should’ve invited Sanford. Deimos looked to the side, and then reached into his left pocket. He fumbled for a moment before just grabbing a fist-full of money and slapping it on the table.
“This is for the other two guys I’m with,” he said to the barkeep, adding “also, cover me,” before gently taking the lady by the hand and pulling her behind him. She at first made a noise of surprise—somewhere between a squeal and a hum—but then she laughed as Deimos guided her away from the bar to the more secluded area of the club. He looked around, spotting a closet and immediately bee-lining for it. He slowed to a stop, looking back at her.
“You ok with this?” he asked, just to double check. “I know it’s not the most luxurious but…”
He trailed off as he saw a glint of something in her eyes. Surprise, maybe, but then she seemed to flip the switch back to bedroom-eyes mode.
“It’ll do,” she said with a nod.
Deimos nodded, and then opened the door for her, pausing and then gesturing her inside like a drunk concierge.
“M’lady,” he teased, causing her to laugh as she walked by him.
“What a gentleman,” she said.
The moment the door was closed, he was on her—grasping at her in the dark like a starving zed. His hands quickly found her thighs and he pulled her flush with his groin. At first her breath hitched, and she squirmed in his hands to try and regain some control; however, Deimos wasn’t intent on letting her win the wrestling match, just yet. He pinned her against the wall with a snarl, hearing the clattering of brooms followed by a sharp whine.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “You ok?”
“I-I just bumped into the rack,” she chuckled back. He could barely see her figure looking over her shoulder as he held her against the wall. “I’m fine. You can be rough.”
Deimos took a moment to acknowledge that his definition of rough was probably different than hers, and then purred, “whatever the lady of the hour wishes,” into her ear. She shuddered pleasantly against him, and he was immediately searching the closet for anything he could use. She was currently resting her hands on the wall where a bunch of brooms had been hanging before he shoved her into it, but other than that, there wasn’t a lot of wall space for him to press her against. As he continued to grope her idly, she lowered one of her hands, and he followed it to what looked vaguely in the dark like a floor shelf—just tall enough to brush the bottom of her stomach.
Perfect. He put a hand on the back of her neck and bent her over without warning. She gasped and put her other hand against the wall. The dress rode up the back of her thighs, and Deimos had to breath out sharply as the knots in his stomach started to tighten just at the sight.
“Fuck you’re pretty,” he whispered, and then slid a hand under her dress. The first moan he got out of her was from his fingers lightly grazing her panties, which were damp. He started using his thumb to press them deeper into the fold of her labia, and that got her to start swaying her hips. He kept his hand on the back of her neck, feeling the urge to run his claws through that beautiful brown hair of hers or to rake them down her scruff. That’d get her to behave…
His mind wandered as her whimpers got more and more needy. What he was giving her wasn’t enough, and she was getting frustrated quickly. Deimos felt his cock straining against his pants, creating a tent that she suddenly bucked into. He hissed and bent over slightly, his thumb’s claw tucking into her folds and nearly shredding her underwear.
“Fucking brat!” he hissed, squeezing her scruff until she let out a groan. “Who taught you to behave like that?”
She was panting, shaking, desperate. She looked back at him with a mix of longing and a whiff of pride. He felt how wet she was. He wanted her so bad, but surely he couldn’t let that slide. He compromised with himself and pulled down his zipper and used his thumb to drag her panties aside.
“You fucking asked for this,” he said, pulling out his cock. “I was trying to be nice.”
Her eyes widened as he pressed it up against her folds, Deimos enjoying the glint of fear in her eyes before he pushed his way in. If he were as cruel as Sanford, he would’ve just started fucking her, but the way her already pretty tight insides clenched around him and the way she had to muffle her scream with the crook of her arm did make him feel a bit bad. He held still as she adjusted, squirming and moaning and breathing as deeply as she could. He felt her slowly begin to relax around him, her warm walls spasming, and bared his fangs.
“I-I’m gonna move,” he hissed under his breath as a warning, and then gave his hips a gentle rock forward. Her whole body shook, and the woman beneath him gasped.
“Oh yes…” she moaned, giving him the green light to start thrusting into her. The pace wasn’t slow, and the soft plapping of their hips could’ve probably been heard outside the closet, but she took him like a champ. Her legs spread wider for him as he started panting, leaning down over her to nibble the shell of her ear and lowering his hand from her neck to her hips.
“Damn, you feel so good,” he whispered. “Taking me so well like a good little slut.”
He heard a little, shaky whimper slip its way out of her throat as he sped up, using both hands to force her hips harder and harder into his own. “Oh yeah? You like being called a little slut? You wanna hear me say it again? Fuck, look at you bent over and begging for more. Bet you want me to cum inside you.”
Deimos yapped during sex. He couldn’t help it. He liked hearing himself talk. Usually when he was the one on the bottom it had the added bonus of pissing off the others and getting them to try and shut him up or at least turn it into a more pleasant babble. This time, his yapping was uncontested, and he made the most of it, getting a few words between each and every thrust. The best part was that the lady under him seemed to love it, her body sinking into his as she tried in vain to respond—that or her moans were just her letting him know she was listening.
After a few minutes, Deimos felt like he was gonna explode, and he pushed her harder into the wall in an attempt to get even more power behind his hips.
“Ok—fuck—I know I said it earlier, but I’m actually getting kinda close… Agh! Fucking—In or out?”
He slowed a bit, trying to both get her to a state where she could respond and also keep himself from pre-emptively cumming inside her. She looked back at him and shivered. “In,” she whimpered. “I-I’m also…”
He didn’t let her finish that thought, pumping harder into her than he thought he had the energy to. He knew she was close. He could feel it. He could feel her body tensing in preparation as she dug her face into her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. Deimos’s fangs grazed over her skin, the urge to bite down on her neck almost irresistible. That must’ve pushed her over the edge, because she screamed and he felt her pussy cinching up around his length. He grunted, pushing all the way into her, and then panted as he came deep inside her. He couldn’t help but dig his claws into her sides as he felt his cock pump her full, and each pant ended with a whine as sweltering bursts of semen painted her insides white.
Deimos’s vision blurred in and out as his brain went cold, and then he leaned his head back and pulled her back with him as he rested against the door.
“Shit…” he hissed. “Been a while since I… hah…” He couldn’t talk, anymore. His voice was too raspy. He gave up and just held her for a bit, at least until she looked back at him, and then smiled.
“You ok?” she asked in a soft yet clear and articulate voice. Deimos raised a brow.
“Huh?”
“I uh…” she averted her eyes as she blushed. “You need a minute to like… stay inside?”
How was she not completely fucked out? After a moment’s hesitation, Deimos patted her bare ass and helped guide her hips off of him. He was fucking drenched in sweat, but she stood up—albeit, she stumbled, but that might’ve been the dark or the brooms scattered all over the floor. She stood there, putting her hands on her sides where he’d scratched her, and then chuckled.
“I’m gonna feel those tomorrow.”
“Huh?” Deimos shook his head, and then inhaled deeply. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’ll be fine. I got a first aid kit in my car.” She paused, and then crouched down in front of him. “You mind if I get going? I hate to leave you but like, I don’t wanna bleed everywhere.”
Deimos was still struggling to catch his breath, but he nodded.
“I don’t… mind. You sure you’re good?” The cheeky little lady then zipped him up for him and patted his head.
“Never better, handsome,” she purred. “You take care, ok?”
That… did something to Deimos, and for a moment he genuinely asked himself if he was prepared for the consequences of asking for round two. Instead, he nodded and let her help him up.
“You too… uh…” He realized at that moment that he didn’t have her name, but before he could ask, she squeezed her way out the door and closed it behind her. For a few moments, he just stood there alone in the broom closet. By the time he left, he hadn’t even managed to catch his breath, yet.
Damn, he was never going to live that one down.
Sanford rolled his eyes.
“Nice story, Deimos. Too bad it’s got us nowhere nearer to actually finding the drives.”
“Oh, come on, you’re not even a little impressed? I got her in one pickup line!”
“She probably likes idiots, then.” Sanford paused, and then raised a brow. “Do you remember touching the drive after that?”
Deimos opened his mouth to say yes, and then froze.
“Uh… actually no. I don’t…”
Sanford froze at that, and then thought aloud, “Hm… that’s a strange coincidence.” Deimos’s eyes widened, and then he shook his head.
“You’re not saying it was her, are you?”
“You said she was going to her car afterwards?”
“Yeah? Why you ask?” Sanford paused, and then sighed.
“Because I met the girl I hooked up with in the garage.”
“Where the hell is the guy we were with?” Sanford asked. The bartender paused, and then shrugged.
“Don’t know,” he said. “He covered your next couple drinks, though.”
“Oh, how convenient,” Sanford growled with an eye roll before turning away. “I’m going to the car. Hank, stay, and no fighting.” He gave the larger mercenary an ‘I'm watching you’ gesture before walking away. He crossed by the dance floor at one point, bumping up against someone and apologizing briskly before pushing past them.
The parking garage was pretty dimly lit and spooky. If Sanford was a less dangerous man, he would’ve been scared stiff, especially whenever something moved in the corner of his eye. He stalked up to their car, sighing after opening the trunk and not catching Deimos or anyone else inside, and then he rubbed his head.
Where was that little goober? He was starting to worry.
He heard a car door close suddenly to his left and jolted, taking out his hook and glancing around.
“Who’s there?” he called.
“Sorry,” responded a deep, feminine voice. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Sanford paused, and then let his curiosity carry him around the car, where a small, dark orange-haired woman was sitting in what he had to assume was her own car. She was holding a box that looked vaguely like a cutesy first-aid kit, complete with little syringe and fairy stickers. She looked a little rough—not that she wasn’t carrying herself well. Her hair was nice and she was still in heels, but she looked a little frazzled and her dress was on just slightly crooked. She stared at him, her eyes widening slightly, and then she took a deep breath.
“Hello—”
“You ok, ma’am?” She gave him a look he didn’t recognize fully, though it was some kind of scrutiny. It was kind of cute, actually.
“I’m… fine?” she responded. “How are you?”
Sanford immediately felt like he’d done something wrong, so he tried to dissolve the tension with an arm-cross and a chuckle.
“Just a little uh… confuzzled. Have you seen a man go through here, lately? He usually wears a visor and some headphones? He’s a clone so red eyes—”
“Oh,” she said, and then her eyes lit up. “Yeah, actually. I was just with him.” Sanford immediately looked surprised, and she added, “we talked for a bit. He’s still in there, last I saw.”
“Ah, I see,” Sanford said. “That’s good. Thought he would be out here doing something stupid.” He chuckled to himself, and the woman did the same. Her yellow eyes seemed to glow in the dark like cat’s, and they caught his attention. He sank his eyes down her body quickly, trying to take more of her appearance in without staring like a creepy lunatic.
Again, she was pretty cute. She had a very dainty figure with a pleasant gap between her thighs. She wasn’t skinny—in fact she had some muscle on her—but she was very narrowly built.
When he looked back up at her, her cheeks were flushed, and he cleared his throat.
“I uh… I guess I’ll be going,” he said, but then he didn’t move. She crossed her arms behind her back in a way that made her breasts swell with her breaths, and then chuckled.
“Guess you will,” she teased, “eventually.”
He was staring at her. He knew it. He really shouldn’t… Hank was waiting for him, and Employers knew what Deimos was getting up to…
“Unless there’s something else I can do for you,” she said, her eyes drooping a bit as she leaned closer to him.
Sanford took a deep breath. Fuck it. He had time. He leaned over her, putting a hand on her car and letting his sinister side show through.
“You sure you wanna go there, precious?” he drawled. “I’m not exactly the gentlest.”
“I think I can handle it.”
Ooh, he liked her.
Without another warning, he grabbed her by the waist. Her eyes widened for a moment—the sparkle of realization that she was getting more than what she bargained for pleasing Sanford—as he lifted her. He hauled her up onto the car’s trunk and pulled her legs apart.
“Wait—!” she hissed, her hand grabbing his. “Not out in the open! Please not out in the open…”
That was a genuine plea, and Sanford immediately stopped. He thought for a moment, and then smiled.
“My car or your car?” he offered, his voice sweet, again and his eyes softened. He knew that she’d probably be a little hesitant to get in his car, but he definitely wasn’t going to fit in her itty-bitty Honda, and he wasn’t waiting much longer.
“Uh… yours…” she said, her face covered to hide the blush he could still see on her chest, “m-more space.”
Smart girl. He pulled her off the car and to the ground.
“Come on,” he said firmly, hauling her ass around the car and practically shoving her in as soon as the door to the trunk was open. She gasped as her back hit the backs of the seats causing one to fold down, and then Sanford put a finger under her chin.
“Alright,” he purred. “What’s your safeword?”
“I—Do I need one?” she asked in an impatient yet fearful whimper. Sanford just nodded, and then used his free hand to pull her legs apart. Her breath hitched, and then she said, “p-pinfeather.”
“Good girl,” Sanford said, rewarding her by sliding her dress up over her knees. She hissed through her teeth in response, and then squeaked as both of Sanford’s thumbs worked their way into her folds to spread her open.
“F-Fuck, talk about getting straight to the point…” she moaned, swinging an arm over her forehead and hissing out a stressed sigh. Sanford held her tightly in place to stop her from squirming, and then dipped his head down between her thighs. Immediately, she was throbbing against his tongue, and her breaths were rapid and hot. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, and Sanford pulled back.
“Just wanted a little taste,” he said simply. He would usually tell her to let him hear her pretty noises, but she was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being seen, so instead, he climbed into the car and pulled the trunk’s door down. His shoulders brushed against it as he pulled down his combat pants, unbuckling his belt and placing it by his side. As soon as she started shifting, her legs closing in on his hips and her eyes fluttering shut, he leaned down and closed his lips around her collar bone. She gasped and significantly relaxed, melting into the floor. He suckled hard until he was sure there’d be a very visible hickey and then kissed the side of her neck, nibbling her ear lobe and then teasing, “hope you have some makeup at home.” The glare she gave him didn’t last, as he found another spot to mark—this time on her shoulder. While she arched her back just right, he pushed in, and she didn’t have time to stifle the cry of bliss she let out.
“Good,” was all Sanford groaned, slowly sinking deeper until their hips were flush. “Good fucking girl.”
“Oh my gods…” she whispered, and then looked at him with a mix of desperation and amusement. “You—You’re really fucking big, dude. Give me a second to… ugh… You know what I mean.”
Sanford laughed at her sudden cadence, and the way her mind was clearly scrambling, and then went back to marking her chest. He pulled down her dress to start getting at the tops of her tits.
“Use your words, precious,” he cooed, though he didn’t dare move while her insides slowly began to accommodate him. Her breaths slowly began to deepen, and she gave him pleading eyes.
“Please be gentle,” she whimpered in a way that made his brain buzz in the base of his skull. He grinned, and sank his hands down to her hips. A stripe of light shifted up his shades as he looked down to make sure he was all lined up.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” he said, and then slowly started shifting back and forth. He was as gentle as he could be, and still and tossed her head back and whined.
“Oh my gods…” she squealed as her knees shook against each side of Sanford’s waist. “F-Fuck… I’m really—Agh!”
“Sensitive?” Sanford offered as his hips sped up a bit. He watched her eyes roll up to the ceiling as she panted and whimpered. “I like it.”
“Mmnh…” she moaned, and then, to his surprise, she said, “faster.”
“Atta girl,” he praised in response, pumping into her more seriously and feeling her innermost walls contract. It was like a snare around his entire shaft as his head thumped against what he had to assume was her cervix at this point, given she was shaking with every thrust, now. Every time he pulled out, he felt his cock dragging—pulling back on her insides. He watched as her eyes slowly clouded over, letting her arms sink to the seats above her head and just taking what he gave her. He felt himself boiling in the base of his gut, and traced a hand along her stomach.
“I’m getting close,” he said. “You want it in?”
“I… I…” She looked at him, eyes still foggy. He couldn’t help himself. He bucked hard into her and forced out another cry.
“I asked you a question,” he barked in a voice both stern and cruel—maybe a little too much so considering he was holding back his orgasm like his life depended on it.
“I-In… in please—agh!”
Sanford was thankful she said in, because the moment she came, she had him in a vice grip. Her legs pulled him closer and her throbbing heat rippling against his dick. He didn’t even have to push in any further. He couldn’t if he wanted to. He just released as soon as he felt her squirting against his groin. His breath heaved in time with each pulse of his head, and felt her shudder along with him. She just stared at the ceiling dumbly, and as her aftershocks slowed to a stop, he gently started rubbing her troso, his fingers gently massaging under the small of her back.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m gonna pull out, ok?”
“O-Ok…” she nodded.
Hey, she was still able to talk. It was a miracle! Sanford chuckled, and then did as he said, watching a bit of his cum roll out behind his head and onto the already soaked car. He looked up at her with a satisfied smirk.
“You did good, precious,” he said. “You need anything? I should be getting back in there.”
She paused, and then slowly sat up. He noticed at that moment that she was clutching her sides as if something there was hurting her. Fuck, he wasn’t too tough on her, was he? He found himself adjusting her dress straps back onto her shoulders.
“Do you need me to stay here?” he asked more seriously. She stared at him, clearly exhausted, and then inhaled.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. Sanford knew immediately she was lying, and his unconvinced head-quirk caused her sigh. “Seriously. I’m fine. My car’s right next to yours. You go have fun.” She smiled at him gently, and that disarmed him a bit… and he really needed to get back before Hank got too overwhelmed and heads started rolling. He felt bad, but he had to go.
“Ok,” he said, opening the trunk all the way and climbing out after he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.
Luckily, there was nothing in the car worth stealing, and he trusted the lady behind him to close the door behind her. It was the least she could do.
“You left a stranger alone in our car?” Deimos asked, his arms crossed. “Ooh boy, if Doc found out you did that…”
“That doesn’t matter,” Sanford grumbled. “What matters is the last time I felt the drive in my pocket was before meeting up with her. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Ok, so maybe it’s a little bit… ill-timed,” Deimos said, his eyes drifting away before Sanford groaned.
“I can’t believe I let my guard down like that!” he said into his hands. “She was probably waiting for one of us to go back to the car…”
“Hey, hey. To be absolutely fair,” Deimos started, “we don’t know how Hank lost his drive—”
“It was her.”
The two mercenaries looked over at Hank, who had looked away. He rubbed his jaw as Deimos pointed at him.
“You? But you don’t… She wouldn’t… who would have the balls to—”
“Yellow eyes. Brown hair.”
“Oh my gods, she fucked Hank.” Sanford looked extremely disturbed. It wasn’t like the two of them hadn’t tangoed with Hank, before, but the idea of Hank just getting laid somehow felt alien.
“How?”
Hank was bored, buzzed from two watered down cocktails, and looking for someone to kill. He knew it was wrong. He knew Sanford would grill his ass for it later, but he was extremely overwhelmed and needed something to focus on—like a neck he could wring. The dim parking garage was probably home to many undesirable folks who thought themselves the apex predators of the night. Hank was going to prove one of them very, very wrong. He’d managed to squeeze behind the door while Sanford walked by. He seemed a bit out of it, so the dark, leather-wrapped grunt with the metal jaw was able to hide in the shadows with ease.
Eventually, he stumbled across a group of drunks, who were unfortunately far too loud to slay in peace, so he decided to instead sit up on a big, dark red van to view everything at once. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the blackness, and the swaying drunks beneath him’s singing was getting on his nerves to the point where he considered killing them, anyway, but then he spotted his mark.
The first thing he noticed about them was the strange goggles they wore over their eyes that glowed yellow in the dark, then he noticed the gleaming, white fangs protruding from their upper lips, and knew he had to kill them. They were too worthy of an opponent. As he started slinking over vehicles and onto the railing, they ducked and weaved like they’d long mastered the terrain. They knew the place, but Hank was the apex predator of wherever he went. He stalked his prey all the way to around their own car, grinning as he hopped down and laid his back flat against the little white one next to it. It rocked under his weight, and for a moment, he heard the creature stop in its tracks. When it moved again, it was barely audible, and Hank slunk around the car to see it perching on top of their truck, where it waited and watched over another grunt.
She looked awful—like she’d been hit by a bus or something. Her hair was frizzy and tangled. Her knees wobbled slightly, and she was smoking a cigarette with shaky hands as she leaned against the closed trunk of their car.
The creature was waiting for her to move so it could sneak up behind her. The corners of what was left of Hank’s upper lip curled back into a smile. Perfect chance. He’d instigate a fight by getting between it and its kill.
The woman with the brown hair and crooked, red dress sighed, put out the cigarette, muttered about how she wished she was dead, and then started walking towards Hank. The creature used its claws to silently land on the ground next to her, and then slowly started stalking behind her. Saliva dripped from its wide open maw as it’s fangs gleamed in the low light.
Just a little further and…
TWANG-zzzz!
The woman had whipped around in an instant, drawing something from a pocket on the side of her dress and pulling its trigger. The creature leaped at her, its jaws outstretched and its claws grasping, only to fall to the ground in a convulsing mess of legs and arms. It screeched, scrambled to its hands and feet, and then skittered off into the night.
Hank narrowed his eyes. Kill stealer.
The woman stared after the creature, and then looked at the spent taser in her hands.
“And here I was thinking this was a waste of money,” she said idly before turning and bumping into Hank’s chest.
“That was mine,” he growled, and immediately, like a shaking deer, she stumbled back.
“Woah! What the—Who the hell are you?” she asked. Her droopy eyes were immediately full of concern. “Why were you hiding behind my car?”
Hank paused, looked around, and then pointed a hand over her head after his fled prey. She looked back, and then raised a brow.
“Oh, uh…” She looked back at him. “Sorry?”
He paused. Why were grunts in Nevada Central so passive? She should’ve given him a reason to kill her, by now—not that it would be any fun. She was scrawny and wimpy-looking.
He looked away from her, rolling his eyes behind his red goggles.
“Ugh.”
The woman stared at him, her arms behind her back, and then she cleared her throat. “Look uh… sorry for… taking your… vampire kill.”
She tried to walk around him to get to her car, and he suddenly thrusted an arm out in front of her. He was surprised it didn’t dent the car with the wretched sound it made. When she glanced up at him, his head tilted.
“Vampire?” He toyed with the word, rolling it back and forth on his tongue.
“Uh…” She started nervously fidgeting, and then looked to the side. “I mean, yeah. They usually hang around here. You don’t know—?”
Hank’s eyes glittered, and then he leaned down to her level, rasping, “find me more.” Some would call that a request; others would call it a demand. Either way, the lady really wasn’t in the place to argue, so she turned a tense shoulder to him.
“Ok… sure… I can try.” Hank nodded, and then followed right behind her as she started walking.
They walked for a little bit, the woman glancing behind at him every few minutes as if to make sure he was still there. He understood. For a man his size he was very quiet on his feet.
“You know, you’re probably scaring any that see us off,” she teased as she looked back at him. Hank stopped in his tracks, and then nodded, slinking off into the shadows without so much as a grumble.
The woman stared after him as he waited in the dark, his head twitching forward as a way to tell her to get moving, and then she sighed. As she started forward again, her arms crossed over her chest, she was muttering to herself. She sounded irritated for some reason. Hank went on the hunt, sticking to the dark parts of the garage and tucking himself around corners as he waited patiently.
As they got deeper and deeper into the garage, he started to get antsy. He considered leaving, but then paused as the woman walked under a singular, flickering light. She looked like she was about to say something, but then the light went out with a pop and a flurry of sparks.
Bingo. Hank sank down to his hands and knees, getting ready to pounce. He saw the yellow lights approaching the woman in the center of the walkway, who could surely see them even with the sudden shroud of black that bared down on her. She fell and covered her head nervously, letting out a little squeak, but before the vampires ripped her to shreds, they stopped. Instead of immediately going for the kill, they started circling. It was—again—like watching a deer, only this one was swimming with sharks. Foam glistened in the mouths of the creatures as they hissed and chatted among themselves.
“I want one of her pretty little legs.”
“Give me a rib or two and I’ll be happy.”
“What’s wrong, sweetling? Took a wrong turn?”
“Uh…” the woman started, turning and then shrinking as one of the vampires loomed over her, raising their glow stick claws. “Whoever you are: any time now!” Hank’s hands shook, and he waited impatiently for an opening.
The vampire on top of the girl hesitated, tilting their head and asking “what are you on about?”
Perfect. Hank lunged, plowing through two of the circling vampires, and then grabbed the one on top of the woman.
Crunch went their neck. Gurgle went the blood in the back of their throat as his black nails ripped through their skin. Thump went the body against the ground.
Again.
Hank was less methodical than he usually was. He usually liked to get into some kind of rhythm, but he was completely out of it because of the alcohol. His kills were sloppy—near shamefully so, but they still quenched his thirst. By the time he was standing in the middle of a group of bodies, his shoulders heaving and hands covered in blood, he was even a bit ready for a nap.
He started walking away, and then heard a rustling behind him. Excitedly, he turned, his hands already open to receive more violence, but then he paused and looked down at the woman struggling through the dark.
“Where are you?” she asked. “I-I can’t see.”
Hank looked over his shoulder and up the ramp. He could just leave her. She’d stumble her way back to safety on her own, eventually… but then he felt hands on his back, and jolted.
“Ah, there you are,” she said, stumbling into him and then pushing back on his chest. “S-Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to… uh… heheh.” She brushed him off with her hands. “You ok? I think I heard you shout a couple of times like you got hit and—”
“You’re… touching me.” His voice cut her words short, and she was quick to take her hands off of him.
“Sorry,” she said. “Do you not like being touched?”
Hank hadn’t been touched by a stranger in years. Why did she touch him? That was weird.
“… do you know who I am?” he asked. A question that long was punished by a painful pinching from where his prosthetic jaw met his skin, but it was a question worth asking. She stared at him for a moment—or at least stared at his figure against the light, and then smiled.
“Should I?” she asked. “I uh… I don’t really watch the news or anything.” A moment of staring later, she was chuckling, her shoulders shaking a bit. “Should I be concerned?”
Her breath hitched as Hank suddenly took her hands, holding them tight and roughly putting them to his chest. Her knuckles didn’t even hurt him no matter how hard he pressed them to himself.
“You’re soft,” he growled, although at this point, it was hard to tell between his growling and a low purr. The woman stared at him, color rising in her cheeks, and then she chuckled.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re um… surprisingly sweet.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and then she inhaled deeply.
“Do you mind escorting me back to my car, big fella?”
“Mmmh.” Hank did the unthinkable and picked her up. She made a soft, pleasant noise, and then sank into his touch once the shock wore off.
“Thank you.”
He carried her into the light, and stared into her eyes. She was pretty, now that he was actually looking at her. It usually took him a while to notice when someone was pretty. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t as scared of him as she should’ve been, but a part of him was in love with her for a moment.
When they were back at her car and he’d begrudgingly put her back down, the little woman stretched and yawned.
“My boss is probably going to be pissed but… I think I’ll sleep in tomorrow. It’s been a night.” She smiled at him, struggling to get her key into the door without breaking eye contact. “You definitely made the end of it super… exciting.” She blushed, again, and Hank couldn’t help but put a finger on her cheek.
“You liked it?” he asked. She paused at that, and grew even more flushed.
“I mean… yeah. I guess I did but like… I don’t know.” She looked away. “That’s kind of wrong, isn’t it? I mean, I just watched a lot of people die—or more heard it. I should probably be calling the cops, but… I mean, it’s not like they do much for civilians, anyway.” She sighed, and then glanced at him. “Do you like killing people? Is that why you made me lure them out?”
Hank thought about that for about half a second before answering, “yes,” and then adding, “does that scare you?”
“A lot of people in this world like to kill. At least you’re honest.” She turned and finally wedged her key into the door. Hank chuckled at how she proceeded to struggle with the lock before turning to him. “Darn thing is stuck. Do you mind, muscles?” Hank nodded, walking around her and grabbing the key. It took one simple twitch of his wrist to pop that door open, and then she chuckled. “Thanks, sweetie.”
The side of her hip was pressing into his own, and he felt himself growing hot under his mask. He didn’t move for a moment too long, but right as she started to ask if he was ok, he turned to her.
“I want to touch you.” The words came so fast… and then her eyes widened. She stared at him, and then tilted her head.
“Really?” she whispered. Hank nodded his head up and down, and then she raised a brow. “I didn’t even… why?”
“Please?” Hank’s voice went higher than he meant it to, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll… do what you want.”
Employers below, he hated begging. He usually just did it for Doc… He glanced at the woman, who didn’t look upset but instead hesitant—conflicted.
“I… don’t know how much I have in me right now, sweetie,” she explained. “It’s been a… night.” His eyes grew big, and then he put a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s ok,” was all he knew how to say. He might not have been able to know exactly how she felt, but he knew that sometimes 2b needed to coax him into telling him to stop. No meant no. That was drilled into his brain countless times.
She gave him a look he didn’t recognize, and then, as he began to push past her, she grabbed him by the wrist.
“Wait,” she said. “I um…” He turned to her. “Let me see what I can do. I owe you one for saving me earlier, anyway.”
Hank’s eyes widened with surprise, and then he smiled wide and said, “ok.”
Before he could put his hands on her, she ran a hand gently down to his groin. “I’m going to take your pants off, ok?” she asked. Hank looked around the garage, and then grunted to acknowledge what she said. Gently and carefully, she pulled down his zipper, and Hank inhaled deeply as his… decent-sized penis practically flopped out of his pants.
“Fucking Christ,” she hissed under her breath, “you’re huge.”
Aw…
“Thank you,” Hank said. She gave him a look as if he said something wrong, and then gave him a sultry, confident smile. It was almost unnerving, like watching her put on a mask, and then when she spoke, her voice was different, too.
“No problem, sweetie. I’m going to take care of you.” Despite the slight uncanniness Hank’s eyelids drooped a bit, and he put a hand on her cheek. That seemed like the right thing to do.
“Do what y-you… oh.” He wasn’t prepared for her to lay a kiss on his head, and his stammer earned him a pleasant hum before she opened her mouth and took him. She didn’t take him deep, at first, which was fair, but it was enough to get Hank panting as she used her tongue and lips to tease his head and shaft. He found himself leaning against the car, putting his hands on either side of himself to brace. He was very hard, and she soon was taking just about as much as he expected her to be able to take, period. She was so tiny… How the hell was she so good at this—?
Hank’s head leaned back as she started stroking the base of his cock—the only part she couldn’t quite get in her mouth, and then started shifting back and forth. Gods, he was in her throat, and the slick heat felt so fucking good! His hand found the back of her head, gently tracing his fingers through her dark orange hair. Her eyes looked up at him—yellow and predatory like a soldat’s lens. He would’ve found it concerning had he not been in pure euphoria.
He started whining. It was embarrassing, but he didn’t care. He wanted to stay like this forever; few moments later, however, his head was pulsing, the musiccoming from his throat crescendoing as she started working him even harder. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold it, but she was just straight on milking him at this point, and he was helpless to stop the oncoming tsunami.
He moaned and grabbed a fistful of her hair, holding her close so that his cum was siphoned down her throat. She took it well, stopping her ministrations and just holding his hips. She swallowed every drop like she needed it and then, when Hank was done cumming, she gently let him roll out of her mouth and took a moment to catch her breath.
“There we go,” she cooed eventually, still breathless, “that’s my good boy…”
Hank couldn’t speak, so he petted her soft hair, instead. He caught a few knots in it and slowly worked them out. They sat there for a few minutes, and then the woman slowly stood up. Hank’s red eyes shifted up and down her body, and then he managed to get out, “thank you.”
“No problem, sweetie,” she said. Her voice shuttered a bit, and then she put a hand to her head. “Woo… I hadn’t done that in a while… forgot how to breathe for a minute.” Hank paused, and then wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to feel her, again… even if just for a moment. She was blushing when he let her go, and then she chuckled.
“Well,” she started, “I should probably get going. Should be nearly 3 am and I have work at 9.” Hank stared at her, and then nodded.
“Will I see you, again?” he asked, his face nuzzling gently into her head. “I’d like to.”
“Oh, uh… maybe.” Her voice was fake at that moment, almost in the same way that her sultry voice was fake, and Hank frowned a bit. That was probably a no, which was unfortunate. He liked her a lot and… His thoughts were interrupted when she stood up on her toes and kissed his chin. “Goodnight, sweetie. Stay safe.”
With that, she was gone. Sure, the door to her car opened and shut, but Hank had learned by now when a conversation had been shut down.
He didn’t even get her name…
“Damn, Hank got pity-head. That’s brutal—ow!” Deimos covered his head as Sanford swatted at him, and then the bulky grunt took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry to hear that you felt let down, Hank,” he said. “I can’t imagine how you must feel now that we know the truth.”
Deimos had been about to throw a little punch at Sanford, but that stopped him.
“Ok but like, Hank’s drive wasn’t even in that story. How do we know she took it.”
“Dei, come on,” Sanford said. “I know it might be hard to believe you got duped, but what are the odds a girl sleeps with all three of us and then our drives magically disappear?” Deimos didn’t respond, and Sanford sighed deeply. “You know I’m right.”
“What do we tell Doc?” he asked as he lit a cigarette from his pocket. “None of us caught her name, and for all we know, she can be long gone, out wandering the Somewhere.”
He flicked his ashes across the wind—much like the dusty winds of the wastes, themselves, and then Sanford thought to himself, “well, I’m sure with those yellow eyes of hers, Doc could dig something up…”
“License plate.” Hank suddenly said, interrupting them both. Deimos breathed out a puff of smoke.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “I forgot that when Hank goes all hunter-mode he suddenly remembers everything. I still think it’s freaky.” Hank stared at Sanford, and then grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen off the little table next to the couch. He scribbled, pausing a few times, and then handed over the seemingly random assortment of numbers and letters.
“It’s useful, though,” Sanford finally said after scanning the paper. “Alright, boys, let’s track her down.”