day 5 of @unwholesomeocweek ! ambroz, and adrian. we all know ambroz! adrian blood bound ambroz and then promptly left the city with no warning. needless to say, it did not go well
The man, "Kar", grimaced as the hot white light blared into his face, body stretched out and exposed on the metal gurney. He squirmed in discomfort, or as much as he could with the restraints on his wrists and ankles, and I could've sworn I saw a few cowardly tentacles slip back under the hem of his thin graphic tshirt.
→ Note: tendrils shy away from light sources.
I leaned over the table to examine the torso a little closer. I thought I was just a sillhouette from his point of view, but he seemed to gasp in recognition anyways.
"Ev! Ev, please, I-"
I quickly covered his mouth with a gloved hand, reaching towards my tools all spread out on the tray and shoved a wad of cotton in his mouth.
→ Note: human facade begs for mercy.
I ran my palms down his chest, thoroughly searching for any irregularities in the flesh or bone of the body. I kept thinking I'd found something, a ridge of scar tissue or strange bone or a squishy mound of flesh, but it all seemed to melt away the second my hand made contact.
→ Note: irregularities in torso. Further investigation required.
I reached back towards my toolset and picked up an intimidating pair of shears. I chuckled a little under my breath at the confused panic in Kar's eyes as I loomed over him with the impressive tool, but I simply needed to dispose of the irritating clothing that separated me from the discovery of a lifetime.
The shears sliced easily through the thin fabric to reveal an unnervingly smooth, pale chest. No scars, no lumps, no strange bone structures. Just soft, unpenetrated flesh.
→ Note: torso exposed, irregularities gone. Further investigation required.
I couldn't prevent a small smile tugging at my lips as I turned back to my tray and picked up a scalpel.
A shiver wracked through the man's body as I leaned over him once again, white light glinting off of the pristine metal of my favourite tool. He looked panicked as my blade inched closer to his exposed stomach.
→ Note: elevated heart rate, shallow breathing, excessive perspiration. An impressive show of duplicity.
I sunk my scalpel inside of him, letting out a small breath at the pleasure coursing through my body. I frowned, though, at the result of my initial cut.
→ Note: blood an unusual colour. Deep blue/indigo. Similar to an octopus? No, too dark.
I carefully set my scalpel aside once the cut was wide enough, and sunk my fingers into the pulsing wound. He was warm, soft, and oozing with that strange blue substance.
→ Note: Organs seem human. Unsure if safe to remove, but-
Something wrapped around my wrist.
I was practically elbow deep inside of him by then, dark sludge coating my arms and splattering onto the front of my apron when Kar's warm insides started morphing from human organs to monstrous tendrils. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, heart pounding in my ears and screaming at me to pull away, but I couldn't. That's when I realized the tentacles weren't threatening me: they were inviting me in.
→ Note: vitals unavailable due to lack of human organs, but subject seems distressed. Tentacles do not.
Kar was moaning on the table, and it took me a long moment to realize he was saying something. My name, actually.
I frowned. "That's Doctor Ev to you, Kar. Hold still, please."
I tried pulling my hands out from the cavity of his torso, but the tendrils only locked harder around my wrists. I winced in pain at the intensity of the suckers, feeling like the flesh would be torn from the bone if I tried any harder to pull away.
→ Note: tentacles very strong, not sure if I can escape this hold.
"Kar, please, I need you to let go of me. This is ridiculous, I-"
The stomach opened into a gaping maw and tentacles burst from it with a loud squelch.
→ Note: fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-
His tentacles were quickly wrapping around every part of my body, pulling me closer and seeping a strange almost-liquid that soaked through my apron and into my lab coat immediately. Kar's body was almost unrecognizable now, the only familiar sight his wide brown eyes as he stared up at me with need. He was mouthing something, no, moaning something, and the tentacles were pulling me closer closer closer to his lips-
"I want you, Ev."
"Fuck- Kar- let me go, I can't move, I-"
→ Note: I want you too.
I gasped, choking on my own saliva as I fought to take just one final breath and
It had been a great show, the pit heavy and intense, bodies slamming into him and crushing him in a mass of heat and energy. Brick was drenched in a sticky mix of sweat, his own and strangers', but most importantly, in Baker's.
She had been wearing a little tank top that hung loosely from her shoulders and barely covered her torso, but the second they left the venue she peeled it off, tossing the thin fabric in his direction and catching him right in the face. The thing was fucking drenched, beads of moisture gathering on his forehead and dripping into his eyes and lips before he could pull it out of the way.
She tasted odd, the same mixture of strangers' BO with her own sour taste. It burned his tongue. He smiled.
"You coming, boy?"
Shit. "Yeah, sorry, one sec." He wrung the fabric out over the concrete before tossing it over his shoulder and running to catch up.
"You needed somewhere to stay tonight, yeah?" Baker looked over her shoulder to watch him with a flat gaze, expression unreadable behind her beat up aviator glasses.
Brick grimaced, scratching at the back of his head as he avoided her gaze. "Yeah, I mean, if you're offering then I wouldn't mind-"
"You'll have to fight for it."
He frowned, eyes darting back up to see if she was serious. Her gaze was level as always.
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"You'll have to fight for it. You liked the pit just fine. If you want to sleep with me, you'll have to fight me."
Brick immediately took a few steps back, raising his hands slightly and shaking his head. "No, shit, we don't have to fuck or anything, I was just looking for a futon or something. I don't want you to feel like you have to sleep with me if you don't want to, or that I'll attack you or something. You can lock me in the bathroom! If that makes you feel safer. Anyways, I just-"
"Shut up."
He fell silent.
"You don't want to fuck me?"
He hesitated. "Well, I guess I do, but not if-"
"Good. You'll fight me, and if you can hold your own, I'll fuck you."
Brick laughed, caught by the absurdity of her offer for a moment. She certainly didn't look weak, but her arms were fucking twigs compared to his. "Yeah, alright. I think I can do that."
She looked back at him, meeting his eye for the first time since they stepped outside. He could've sworn her eyes flashed red for a moment, but maybe he was still riding the high of the pit. And the drugs. Probably mostly the drugs. "We'll see, boy. Come on."
He yelped a bit as she reached down and grabbed his belt buckle, tugging him off the sidewalk and towards a shitty little motel off the highway. She made a beeline towards one of the doors on the first level.
"Is this, uh, your place then?"
"Sure." She knocked on the door, and hearing nothing on the other side, shoved it open with a firm shoulder. "Yeah, this is my place."
He followed her inside, taking in the rickety bed and outdated wallpaper. He closed the door and tossed her shirt onto a nearby chair, wondering if the door was just a flimsy material or if she was stronger than she looked, and when he turned around her fist crashed into his jaw.
The hit caught him by surprise, and his hesitation left him open to two more strikes to the ribs. He coughed, but managed to sneak a knee to her side, winning him just enough of a pause to escape from the corner. He was grinning, he realized, as he circled behind her to throw a punch to the back of her head but she was too quick as she ducked and elbowed him in the centre of his chest, knocking the wind out of him and spinning around to take out the back of his thigh. He fell to his knees and she smiled down at him.
"Not bad. A bit slow." She reached down to tug at her belt buckle, planting a boot on his thigh, and Brick felt his mouth water a little as he saw her hard-on through her jeans. He grit his teeth and headbutted her in the crotch before scrambling backwards and to his feet, guard up. She stumbled back, grunting in pain, but it didn't seem to affect her nearly as much as it should. She stood tall, glaring down at him with a dark glint in her eye, and tugged off her belt. It snapped as it slipped from her belt loops, and he swallowed.
She grinned, lunging at him and whipping it across his cheek. He yelped, genuine panic welling in his chest for a moment as the leather connected with his face before he ducked her next blow and landed a heavy fist in her gut. She grunted, standing more solidly than expected but staying open just long enough for him to send an elbow to her jaw and to yank the belt out of her grasp. He chucked it across the room.
He let out a small breath, finally feeling like he had the upper hand, and shoved her into the wall. He landed heavily against her back, not bothering with a lock and pressing his whole body weight against her. He chuckled. She may have stood almost a head taller than him, but he was stable where she was lean, and he was pretty sure he had the upper hand in this position. He took the opportunity to savour her smell again, sharp and sour in his nostrils, hands steady on her hips, until he noticed she wasn't breathing. He pulled away abruptly, concern overtaking pride, but she just raised an eyebrow and elbowed him in the nose. His face exploded with pain. He fell back, puzzling at her trick for a fraction of a second before another hit collided with his stomach and he was on his knees again.
"Easily distractable, too. Hm. I'll give you something to focus on."
She undid the button of her jeans, shoving them down and tossing them carelessly to the side as she stepped towards him. She reached down, fingers lacing into his short hair, and shoved his mouth against her hard cock. He grinned, opening his mouth to let her in, letting her thrust into his throat a few times before baring his teeth and biting firmly into her sensitive flesh.
She yelped, an odd sound from her mouth, and quickly yanked him off of her, steel toe boot crunching into his ribs. He laughed weakly, savouring the harsh line of her furrowed brow as she growled down at him. "You little fuck." She kicked him in the dick, and he grunted at the heavy blow before she dropped to the floor on top of him, fuming.
Now he knew there were still drugs in his system, though he couldn't remember the exact medley of substances in his bloodstream- definitely some beer, probably some weed, certainly a few others he wouldn't ever know for sure- because her tongue was elongating into something rippled and inhuman and her mouth was crowded with sharp teeth as she grinned down at him and her face split into a chasm of razors.
He yelped, trying to scramble out of her reach but her hands were strong on his hips and he couldn't move. Her unnatural claws dug into his flesh, tearing his jeans into ribbons and leaving his wet pussy cool and exposed. He screamed, but his terror quickly crumbled into pleasure as the papery tongue enveloped him in overwhelming sensation.
It was all he could do to hold on to her firm arms, his own ragged nails digging weakly into her tough skin, and he actually sobbed a bit when she pulled away. He looked down, but nothing was out of the ordinary: a thick drop of spit and cum hung from her incredibly normal lips, and she watched him with a disapproving glare from behind her perfectly crooked glasses.
His head fell back with a soft thump, and he laughed. "Fuck- why'd you stop? Worried I'll-" He was interrupted by the most incredible sensation he'd ever felt in his life, and his words were immediately lost in a shapeless cry of pleasure.
He managed to glance down despite the sensation, expecting to see her mouth on his dick but instead watching as she bit down hard on the inside of his thigh. He watched as a small rivulet of blood ran from the corner of her mouth and he gasped, but couldn't manage much else. He fell back, head thunking against the linoleum and falling out of his body into the harsh rapids of blood red feeling.
___
Brick was lost.
He kept fading in and out of consciousness, every moment an onslaught of pleasure and pain. Baker was fucking him, using every part of his body and pounding into his flesh. It was an odd cycle, and he couldn't tell if he liked it or if he just wanted it to end. He'd slip out of his body, hands hovering inches above his skin or black out entirely; time would pass, then he'd feel an impact somewhere on his body, a slap or a scratch or a thump and he'd snap back to life; he'd wake up in some new position, new sensations wracking his body with Baker grunting over him; she'd sink her teeth into some fleshy part of his body and once again he would die.
___
He woke up alone, butt naked and smelling like death. He tried to stand, but his body was weak and his knees nearly gave out from beneath him. His head spun, he was covered in blood and cum, and he felt used and broken and thrown away like an old toy. That feeling would have gotten him hard if he weren't so fucking hungry.
Brick had been hungry many times in his life- really, he was hungry more often than he was full- but never like this. This was an all encompassing hunger, a cold hunger, a hunger that ate him from the inside out. Every part of his body ached with it and he couldn't move a fucking muscle.
He laid there for hours, waiting for Baker's return. He couldn't see light through the thick curtains, but there was a small digital clock on the bedside table that ticked away the seconds as he lay there in silence.
He smelled her before she stepped through the door, and a surge of energy pushed him to sit up in the bed. It was 05:38 when she set a heavy backpack on the linoleum by the door.
"You're awake. Fucking finally. Stand up."
He shot to his feet.
"Fuck, you smell bad. Come here."
He stepped forward, as close to her as he thought she'd allow. She leaned down until they were eye to eye.
"Open your mouth."
He obeyed, sticking his tongue out for good measure. It felt a bit longer than it should.
She stuck her fingers in his mouth and he thanked every god he could think of, but after a moment of pulling at his lips he realized she was inspecting his teeth.
"You're hungry." She pulled her hand out of his mouth.
He nodded, eyes wide as the all-encompassing cold crashed into him once again, swaying a bit on his feet.
She pressed her wrist to his mouth. "Bite."
He did as he was told, teeth sinking deep into her flesh until his mouth filled with blood. Before he could be disgusted, he had grabbed her wrist with both hands and found himself drinking deep, savouring her sour taste and feeling himself warm up just enough.
He whined when she pulled away.
"That's enough. Have a shower, you reek."
He nodded, stumbling towards the bathroom in a haze. He turned back to look at her once more before entering the bathroom, and heard her mutter from across the room as though it were whispered directly into his ear: "Fuck. Stupid puppy."
He grinned, and stepped into the bathroom to shower.
___
At some point during his shower he realized that something was wrong, something bad had happened to him, that he should be dead or maybe that he already was. But every time he tried to follow that thought, to chase whatever was making him think that way, it slipped from his fingers like sand. His mind kept wandering back to Baker's cool gaze, her strong hands, her heavenly teeth. Every time it did, he scrubbed a little harder, to make sure she'd be satisfied with his freshly cleaned body.
When he stepped outside, the room was a mess. Baker lounged lazily on the stained bedsheets, muddy boots propped up on the mattress as she thumbed through a beat up hunting magazine. She looked up at him as he walked towards her and crawled onto the bed, flexing his triceps as he pushed himself towards her.
She seemed unimpressed. "Fuck, you're still here. Ah. Go for a walk, bud, I just got back from hunting." She went back to her magazine, ignoring him.
He sighed, deflating a little as he stood up and started searching for his clothes. "Sure, Baker, whatever you need. I'll be back soon, uh, but do you know where my pants are?"
She pointed at a useless pile of shredded fabric in the corner.
"Fuck, uh, maybe can I borrow a pair of yours…?"
She sighed, waving vaguely towards a small pile of fabric in the corner of the room, and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, there's an extra pair in the backpack. See you later."
He grit his teeth at her tone, wondering what he'd done to piss her off, and got dressed in silence. He had to roll up the pants a few times, and he had to go without a shirt since she didn't seem to have any others besides the one from the show, but he grabbed her jacket and went to leave the room, savouring her newly familiar smell in the old leather.
He paused at the door. Something felt wrong.
He looked over at Baker, still reclined in a picture of cheap luxury, then back at the door. She wanted him out, so he reached for the doorknob and cracked it open.
The world was on fire.
He screamed, slamming it shut and stumbling back against the wall. He watched in horror as the fresh burns knit themselves shut before his very eyes, and he leaned over and threw up.
"Oh, fuck I forgot the sun was up. Damn. You'll have to find a garbage bin or something to sleep in. That sucks."
He whipped around to face her, to say something, but his vomit was blood and his stomach was roiling and she looked so perfect in the bed. He didn't want to disrupt her sleep.
"Right, uh, yeah. See you tomorrow."
He paused, grabbed a smaller blanket from the foot of the bed, wrapped it around his body and opened the door.
The sweltering heat clings to her skin. The sun hasn't set yet, her partner lies motionless on the bed beside her. These few hours, before the sun sets and after it has risen, Eva is in complete control. He's cold. Dead to the world, even more than he is at night. He's at her mercy.
Eva rolls over, rests her cheek on his chest and holds her breath. The thumping of her own heart echoes in her ears as she traces her fingers along his form. He's handsome like this, dead. His lips are slightly parted, arms resting next to his torso.
Eva grins, crawls up just a bit before she presses her lips to his cold ones. She does that occasionally, grateful for the relief from the heat this briefly brings her. Her fingers move through his hair. Nails dig down slightly when she slides them down his neck, collarbone, back to his chest again.
She lifts one of her legs over his, presses flush against the muscles of his thigh. She's not fully comfortable, instead sits up and straddles his leg more tightly, letting gravity do part of the job for her. Blood rushes to her core, the cold pulling it into her clitoris and labia.
She moans softly, involuntarily. Her arousal catching her by surprise.
She rocks against his leg. Rolls her hips into it as she lets her hands wander. One of them cups her right breast, squeezes it roughly. She can almost imagine his larger hands on her, but this will have to do. Her other hand rests against his cock. It's slightly hardened in her hand, moreso the death setting in than anything.
She spreads her arousal on his thigh, whimpering, writhing in pleasure as she rolls a nipple between her finger, pressing herself into Adam as hard as she can, until discomfort set in.
She needs more.
She needs him.
Eva shifts on top of him, clit throbbing with every beat of her heart. She lifts his hips a bit. Presses his member against her. She needs him. She needs him, she needs him. It takes some effort, but the prize is more than worth it.
She angles herself onto his cock, the feeling of it, unyielding inside her is nearly enough to push her over the edge like that. She rides his dick, her now freed hand travelling down her own body to rub her clitoris.
Her hips rock. Fast. Faster. Faster. She gets louder too. Her walls clench around him, his cock an immovable rod inside of her, but her body's trying its best to make it move with her.
It takes a lot shorter than she'd have thought. Her orgasm crashes over her, over him, too with how much she comes. She all but screams his name when it hits, rides it out, presses their pelvic bones together as her fingers work her clit until she inevitably collapses on top of him.
With the soft rocking of her hips to extend out her pleasure, she leans in again to press her lips to his. She briefly works her tongue between them, only to then replace it with her fingers to leave him with the taste of her when he wakes up as the sun fully sets.
She gasps when she pulls away from him, needs to catch her breath before she makes her way to the en-suite bathroom. When the dead rise again, he'll find himself sticky with her juices. And what comes after? Eva can deal with when it happens.
The slam of the door rang through the vast space, the finality of the sound falling on deaf ears. My thoughts were racing, thinking of who I should dispose of to ensure their silence and who was already loyal enough to the house that a large sum would suffice. I thanked the gods for the butler, loyal to the house for longer than my lifetime; he was a constant comfort in an otherwise cold, even hostile estate. I rushed through the space, scrambling to find the materials I'd need and cursing at Nisien's choice of death: poison was always the hardest to compensate for, as it destroyed a variety of internal organs to varying degrees depending on the mixture itself. I wished I knew what he had used, but I had no time to parse it out myself: already some of his smaller digits would be unusable to him as they were. I rummaged around for my spare parts, preserved by an old family spell, and pulled out any organs I thought I might need.
Finally, with everything gathered, I stood over Nisien's prone body and all at once it hit me. Not only had he died, quite unexpectedly, but he had killed himself in my estate. He had made the decision that he didn't want to live. What could that mean? Was he not satisfied with his life with me, here? I had taken his increased time spent at the manor as a desire to be here, not as a withdrawal. It stung.
No, this wouldn't be permitted. If he wanted to die, he should have negotiated it with me first. I had a long list of commissions that I was constantly adding to, anything to keep him here, keep him close to me, and he hadn't even finished my latest request. But truly, the worst part was that he hadn't even had the strength in his final moments to confess his obvious desire for me.
Did that make him a coward? Had I fallen for a sheep in a wolf's cowl? I suppose he was an artist, after all. If I wanted a warrior, I should have gone to some dingy sailor bar instead. The very thought made me shiver in disgust. It mattered not what his thoughts had been in his final moments, because I would not allow those to be his final moments. He belonged to me, and only I had the power to grant him life or death. And I intended to grant him life until my own final breath.
I had already started the process of replacing his insides- the most time sensitive part of the whole process- when I realized that there was, perhaps, a silver lining to this whole thing. Here he was, the man of my dreams, completely at my mercy under my practiced surgical scalpel. As long as I got the spell started soon, it mattered not what happened before I woke him up. He was, for the first time, completely and utterly mine.
I made quick work of him after my little epiphany, sewing his new parts in place with an unrivaled precision. I had replaced all his digestive organs, a couple fingertips that had lost some of their motor abilities overnight (I mourned the loss of the perfection of his broad hands, and prayed to every god I thought would listen that he could maintain all the artist's skill he had built over the years), and one of his eyes that had just started its path to liquification. Otherwise, though, I tried to keep his body relatively intact. I needed him to be perfect.
I started the spell almost thoughtlessly, focusing just enough to trigger the start before my thoughts shifted aggressively to that of my long-contained desire. It had grown hot and spiteful over the years as every night I begged the gods to tell him to make a move. I saw the way his gaze lingered over the lines of my body that I had revealed for the second painting we ever did, the way his smile peeked through his stoic demeanor whenever I sent him a subtle wink. I knew he wanted me. But the brute never seemed to pick up on my relentless flirting, and it had slowly eroded parts of my ego. Was it all in my head after all? Was I too delicate for him, too far from the rugged strength he was likely accustomed to from the slums of his previous life? I had done everything right, shooting him little glances and hints that would be clear as day to anyone else, but which seemed to fly right over his beautiful head. It had all built up, and now was my chance, my perfect evening to relieve all those frustrations and take control over my own desire for once in my deprived life.
I peeled the rest of his clothing off almost reverently, admiring every little ridge and plane of his cold body that I had been denied for so long. It was softer than I imagined, but I supposed that made sense: he was strong, but I'd never caught him putting any particular effort towards his physique. My long fingers pressed into his flesh, the slowly rising temperature of his skin sending a little thrill through my body. It occurred to me, as though through a thick haze, that I was pretty sure my father had warned me against this sort of thing; something about the sanctity of the dead and that persistent, corrupting seed of lust and avarice, but I quickly banished the thought from my mind. He was long gone, and this wasn't his business. instead, I lost myself in the soft curls of Nisien's chest, letting my cheek brush against the feathery texture of the hair trailing down his torso.
Soon, I found I had mounted the ceremonial table, straddling his clothed hips and studying his perfect face. it struck me how soft he was, how he had rounded out a bit with my influence and the security of my well stocked kitchen. I smiled, revelling in the feeling of knowing I had improved his life in such a small but meaningful way. Very slowly, I lowered my face down to his, my pale hair pooling next to his like a drop of pure moonlight and finally I kissed him.
His lips were softer than I expected, especially as my fingers brushed against the rough stubble of his soft jawline. I savoured the feeling, letting myself deepen the kiss and ignoring the aftertaste of the poison coating his tongue. I had made sure to purify the body before my explorations had started, so I was confident in the knowledge that the worst it could do was leave a sour taste in my mouth. It was worth it, though, to run my tongue along his teeth and know what he felt like from the inside. I suppose I had already learned about that in a way no one else ever would, but this was different, special. This meant I knew him as a lover would know him.
The thought sent a shiver through me so powerful it made me gasp, and suddenly I was rushing to pull at the clasp of his pants, to get them over his hips and off of his body. He was flaccid, of course, but that was easy to remedy, and after a moment of concentration I was able to draw his not-quite-congealed blood to where I wanted it, where I needed it. I hadn't changed out of my own nightclothes, a simple but delicate nightgown under my favourite elegant robe, and I was grateful at the lack of an undergarment. I arranged my robes carefully around our hips, pressing the tip of his generous member to my ass, whispering a quick spell to assist me as I realized I had forgotten any kind of lubricant, and slowly lowering myself onto him as I had only ever done in the dirtiest of my dreams. I let out a loud gasp, moaning as I pushed him deep inside my body and finally felt full.
The feeling of his body was heavenly, and I lost track of time pleasuring myself with his perfect body and savouring the sensations that I had been denied for so long. Eventually I noticed his finger twitch and I was jolted back to reality. I quickly finished myself off, climbing off of him and willing his blood back into place, quickly covering his hips with a small cloth and wiping my fingers clean with another. I positioned myself over him just as I had a million times as a child over rats, birds, and small prey, and I began the ritual that would ease his way back into life.
This time, he would belong to me completely, alive and in death.
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