𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚'𝙨 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙡 𝙎𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙢. 𝘼𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡-𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝘼𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙬 𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪.
a/n: It took me a long time to do the English translation. I hope you guys like it because this fanfic is really dark and spicy. You can read all the warnings on ao3! Happy reading!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/87730391
https://archiveofourown.org/works/87218421
Colonel Perry hadn't called me for two weeks. I was convinced either he's still fretting over that female reporter taking pictures of our Unisols and had forgotten about me, or my position had been taken by someone with connections who bribed his way in. In any case, if my internship didn't become a full-time position, it was like I had been a cheap labor in that portable fridge for a whole damn month with my 4.0 GPA, and ridiculously, all the bills for this month were due the next day.
Although my adoptive parents in America were kind enough to save me from drowning in a Chinese rural sewer, sadly, besides discounted furniture and secondhand jewelry, all they left me to inherit was the mortgage.
To save on electricity bills, I had put the air conditioner out of service for a while. The weather was slowly turning insufferable entering July, only a sultry breeze was blowing the curtains. Revolver and continuous broadcasts coming from the neighbor's radio. Since I'm not a Beatles fan, psychedelic rock did absolutely nothing to alleviate my current frustration.
I got up and went to the fridge, intending to have some orange juice to calm myself down before thinking about my next step. There were no orange juice inside, only a few eggs and the milk my adoptive parents had bought the morning before their car accident. I poured myself a full glass, and then remembered that my unfortunate stomach suffers from my Asian genes of lactose intolerance, and the orange juice I bought from the discount section had been left in the basket on the front of my bike to bake in the sun all afternoon.
The sound of the glass shattering momentarily drowned out the psychedelic rock playing next door. As the milk flowed down the drain, my helplessness and breakdown forced me to collapse onto the sofa. My string of calmness finally snapped with these stupid, trivial matters.
Through my teary eyes, the document from the Federal Special Operations Team came into view. It lay on the coffee table, alongside with several romance fictions by Anna Huang.
GR13! Our beloved combat weapon! Maybe calling this Vietnam War veteran that seemed kinda inhumane. Anyway, a copy of Sergeant Andrew Scott's personal document was in my hands.
Well, copying documents about the military's secret weapons is definitely illegal, of course, but I swear I did it purely because Sergeant Scott is incredibly good looking and has a fantastic muscular physique so keeping it for personal use won't hurt anyone.
You could say it's hardly a noble motive, but it's probably one of the few stupid things I've done out of hormonal impulses that's actually useful. Because if I haven't secured a job as Dr. Garth's medical assistant by 6pm tonight, I plan to use the town's public fax machine to leak some details to the CSI that will scared the shit out of them, blackmail them with the military's already fragile public image, and then make a living with hush money until I find another job.
Alright, plan complete! I no longer need to pawn the furniture!
I hid the photocopies of Scott in the drawer full of bankbooks in the entryway and took a few coins from the jewelry tray. Before leaving, I planned to give Director Woodward one last ultimatum to confirm whether Colonel Perry was really just too busy to remember anything about my onboarding.
Woodward was the only guy I knew in the Department of Defense whose in touch of humanity. I admit that people working in this branches, including myself, have no heart and too much brain, but as a superior, he wasn't too harsh on his subordinates. Dr. Garth clearly didn't notice my secret interest in our universal soldier; otherwise, Woodward probably would kick me out of the team before Colonel Perry found out that I copied military documents.
The phone rang ten times but no one picked up. Well...this was very strange. I knew Woodward would answer the phone even in the most urgent situations, because he always thought his sweet daughter needed to hear his voice. Just as I was tilting my head, phone between my fingers, head filled with confusion, my attention was diverted to the breaking news report on the TV. The wired phone fell to the floor next second.
"Damn it... what kind of bullshit joke is this?"
Colonel Perry's headshot appeared on the screen.
"Officials believe Colonel Perry was shot and killed early this morning. Authorities are still looking for reporter Veronica Roberts, believed to be linked to the two dealths"
Then, I saw the sexy GR13, full of energy and with amazing marksmanship.
"A robbery at Hayes Supermarket turned deadly when three armed men entered the supermarket earlier today. The leader of the gang was videotaped by security camera, shooting and killing several police officers."
Multiple bad things has happened to me recently, but this is definitely one of the most bizarre experiences I've ever had. My job, which was almost mine, was inexplicably smashed to pieces, the fates of my superiors are unknown and my foster parents were killed by car accidents.
Just when I thought things couldn't gone worse anymore, I heard a loud sound from the back of my house. My former company's large military truck, was parked right in my backyard, emitting a stench of overheated gasoline engine fumes strong enough to make me faint.
What does this possibly mean? Is this a big commotion telling me I've been officially hired?
I pinched my nose and tentatively approached the stinking van, the engine's situation was clearly not good. I stood at the hatch, hesitating whether to enter the code and go in to check on things. Perhaps Dr. Garth and the others wanted to recruit me into their team to deal with those three escaped soldiers. But soon, an ominous premonition overwhelmed my desire for a promotion and a raise. The deathly atmosphere emanating from the entire vehicle made my right eyelid twitch uncontrollably. At times like this, I'd better trust my gut feeling. I took a step back, ready to make my escape.
But it was all too late. The hatch suddenly sprang open, almost knocking me to the ground. Instead of falling, I was picked up like a damn sack of potatoes. The familiar smell of blood filled my nostrils. I could feel the attacker's body temperature even through my clothes. Then came the pain from head to toe as I was thrown onto the truck floor.
I gasped in pain, certain that if I had instinctively braced myself with my hands, I might have givdn my arm a fracture. I turned my head; beside me lay a mangled, charred corpse. Looking down, I saw the man was wearing a lab coat, and his charred name tag on his chest clearly read "Dr. Woodward."
I believe I let out a scream that rivaled that of the first victim in some shitty splatter films. But I immediately regretted it. My attacker was clearly displeased with my actions, and I shut up after receiving two stinging slaps on my cheeks.
After the drumming in my ears subsided, I realized he was on top of me, my collar was being pulled by his large, bony hand. The other hand was gripping my cheek and chin like a iron clamp.
Our eyes met. His deep blue pupils were dilated, and I could see the red veins spreading across the whites of his wide eyes beneath his thick, pale gold eyelashes.
"Calm down, rookie medic!"
Good heavens, blood was flowing down his head, and he was so pretty.
"I hereby declare you officially enlisted. From now on, you are completely at my command."
Being pinned down by a 6'5 tall, armed humanoid weapon, I couldn't think of anything I could do except nodding frantically.
"How should you respond as a qualified subordinate?"
I could smell the stench of mental instability and violence in his eyes.
“I understand, Sergeant Scott…”
Seemingly satisfied with my reaction, Andrew Scott yanked me up from the ground (my arm nearly dislocated). He looked me up and down. Knowing the trauma he suffered in Vietnam, I remained motionless, avoiding making eye contact with him.
It seemed Colonel Perry and his team had completely messed up. Perhaps they hadn't injected enough amount of amnesia serum. Right now, there's nothing I could do to salvage the situation, and I was not paid enough for that either.
Finally, he lowered the M16 he had been pointing at me, and only then did I dare to look him in the eye.
"You are in meidc, right?"
Scott picked out an A4 sheet of paper with my onboarding documents printed on it from a bunch of scattered files and waved it in front of me. I nodded, and a vicious smirk appeared on his face.
He strode behind me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and pushed me forward. He wore a disgusting necklace made of human ears, with dried blood clinging to his plumpy moobs. I turned back and gave him a forced smile, trying not to appear timid at his touch.
Stepping into the cooling room, I witnessed the mess GR13 made. I believed the control system had been broken, as the temperature was at most close to Costco's ice cream section. Dr. Garth's face was contorted in terror, his forehead pierced by the needle used to inject the serum. Two Universal Soldiers lay sprawled, their bodies mangled from the explosion. The scene could be described as gruesome.
He released me, put his hands on his hips, and nodded at the bodies of his teammates, GR23 and 24, who remained motionless except for the occasional knee jerk reflex.
“Heal them, at least to the point where they can still fight with a gun,” he cupped my face, tapping my temple gently, his tone as casual as if asking for a morning kiss.
“If you fail, or do anything suspicious, I’ll slice you up.”
I had no doubt that he would actually do it, so I crouched down and laid the Unisols flat on their backs. I knew as soon as I got close that they were beyond saving. Their motor nerves were completely destroyed. Even if I called in the military tech guys and used their equipment to turn dead flesh into living tissue, they wouldn't be able to do anything but convulse, let alone pick up a gun.
I put on gloves, pretended to loosen their uniforms, and picked out the shrapnel embedded in their fresh, all the while frantically trying to come up with an excuse to distract Scott.
“They’re fine, but you can’t expect this mobile coffin to be an operation room.” I stood up, clapped my hands, put the hemostats in the medical kit, trying to look professional.
"The engine is overheating, gasoline is everywhere, and the refrigerant has burned out. This truck is going to explode in less than half an hour. And if your body temperature doesn't drop soon, you'll have a stroke."
That's the truth, I didn't want to stay in the car for another second. Scott stared at me with a furrowed brow, as if he wanted to tear me to pieces. I suddenly felt terrified that he might suddenly pull out the gun and shoot me, like he randomly shot some Vietnamese farmers decades ago. I guess in his nuts' eyes we all looked same. I imagined him taking a Swiss Army knife from his waistband and happily cutting off my ear to use as one of his horrifying little decorations. I felt tears pricked my eyes.
Thank God, he looked around, tried pressing a few buttons on the control panel, and soon the interior lights turned red. The floatation chamber were completely unresponsive. Perhaps finding my point, Scott shrugged his broad shoulders.
“First, drive the truck away from the residential area. There’s an abandoned car factory near a lake along Route 6. I’ll figure out how to get them moving from there.”
I gestured towards GR23 and 24 on the ground.
"Then you come back with me, and I can get you some ice or something..."
He was too close, his skin was burning hot, and his bloody breath brushed against my hair. He was very tall, all I could see were the rotten ears hanging on his chest. I wanted to close my eyes and wait for him to slit my throat with his military knife or kiss me. Then, his hand gripped my neck again, shoving me against the control panel. Cold sweat soaked my shirt, and an indescribable heat burned from my lower abdomen to my thighs. He remained silent, scrutinizing my expression with a twisted interest.
"You have no rights to give me orders."
Scott didn't squeeze me hard, it was just a warm, heavy force pressing on my trachea. I swallowed, feeling the burning pain from him. My pulse pounded violently against his skin. I stared at his chiseled features, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was about to burst out of my ribs. For now, I would just attribute the cause to fear.
“The last Asian woman who invited me home tried to burn me alive. You need to come up with a better reason to convince me.”
If he didn’t believe me, nothing I said would make a difference. I tentatively reached out and touched the arm around my neck, patting it gently to soothe him. His arm was strong, with slightly bulging veins.
“I’ll do anything you say. If you have any doubts, you can tie me up when you asleep.” I pleaded with him, feeling utterly humiliated. A cunning glint flashed in his blue eyes, the corner of his mouth twitched up sardonically.
He patted my cheek, his deep voice like a venomous snake crawling down my spine. I resisted the urge to moan.
We went outside together. The neighbors were probably high on drugs, no one noticed the huge thing parked outside. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and before I could even fasten my seatbelt, the car started and sped away from my backyard at an astonishing speed. I wondered if its massive size would just fall apart on the spot.
Dusk had long since passed, and the July sky, half-dark, sharply defined the boundary between the end of Route 6 and the horizon. If Scott hadn't been so frightening, I'd have wanted to ask him what had happened, and even more so, how my colleagues had messed things up to the point that Unisols regained their memory. What did this have to do with the runaway reporter? And the GR44 wasn't in the car—which state was he hiding in?
I glanced at his perfect profile. He was focused on the steering wheel and the road ahead. When he wasn't so insane, he was quite cute—blond hair, great tits, and even blue eyes. I was often distracted by his heaving pectoral muscles and the bulge under his pants during my internship in that truck.
I had read his file before he was "reformed." He was born in a wealthy family in Los Angeles and volunteered for the military out of a desire to serve his country. He excelled in all physical and shooting tests. People described him as humble and polite, and I totally believed that from his photos.
But this was nothing more than politicians sending young people to their deaths to showcase national power. And even after his death, he wasn't allowed peace. To use every last drop of value from them, the military transformed them into these killing monsters.
I wanted to say something to ease the tension, but the eerie silence remained until he braked in the junkyard.
He turned off the engine and got out of the car. I followed closely behind, afraid that if I was even a little slow, he would misunderstand and think I was planning to kill him. He paced back and forth in the car factory. This place couldn't even be called a car factory: the corrugated iron sheets had long since collapsed, and all around were car parts of all sizes and 1950s-era private cars reduced to mere shells. The wasteland of parts stretched all the way to a large pit, like a pond or lake.
I considered whether I should turn around and just fucking run away. Maybe I could even catch a Greyhound bus on the road. But considering my poor physical condition and the way his large hands were pinching my throat, I had to abandon that idea.
I entered the code at the hatch, preparing to remove the bodies of those Univeral buddies. The screen showed green, but there was no sign of lock opening. I pressed my ear to the truck, and could only hear a crackling sound of electricity coming from inside. Just as I was wondering what the hell was going on, I heard someone stomping on the weeds behind me.
Scott pounced on me, and I was instantly lifted off the ground, and hoisted up from behind. I felt a sudden weightlessness in my stomach, and my vision was turned upside down. I opened my eyes, there were tiny sparks bloomed on the van. I lay on his broad, sturdy back, my hair waving with his running. As the sparks grew larger, Woodward, Dr. Garth, the unfortunate colleagues, Scott's two "teammates" and all the sins carried by that vanished into the Arizona night sky, which was not pitch black but had no stars.
The shockwave threw us both away on the ground, and he rolled a long way with me in his arms. I tried to keep my face from touching those damn human ears. He was really heavy, I almost coughed my guts out when Scott climbed off me.
He started went wild, something like ptsd broke out, howling and firing bullets at the explosion. I didn't know what to do besides standing there, worried and waiting for his outburst to end. He turned to me, glaring me angrily, and I almost jumped out of my skin thinking he was going to shoot me.
He grabbed my arm, cursing something like traitor, moron or bitch, stroding quickly toward the road, leaving me completely confused by his earlier actions to prevent me from being blown to pieces.
A motorcyclist sped past us, clutching a can of ice-cold beer, whistling at my bare legs exposed by my denim shorts. Scott yelled at him, and that reckless jerk actually stopped, swearing as he walked over like he was about to get a girl after a duel. I think I understood the man next to me's intentions, and nervously prepared to tell that idiot to get lost, but it was too late.
That scumbag died almost instantly. Scott's free hand pierced through the man's helmet. I didn't even see his face clearly, only heard a cracking sound of bones. He immediately fell on the ground, the can of iced beer falling to with him, there's leaking sound coming from both his throat and beer.
Time seemed to stop. I wanted to look away immediately, but my eyes were glued to that dying, struggling thing. Most importantly, deep down, a part of me knew that I had killed him. He could be sued for harassment , or locked up in jail for speeding. He would have plenty of opportunities to repent in the future, but now he was inexplicably ended, with his drink sizzling on Route 6.
Scott wiped the blood on his fingers on the his camouflage uniform, not sparing that writhing, agonizing guy another glance.
When I realized what he had done, my shoulders trembled uncontrollably. He sighed, looked back at me, his right hand still locked on my arm, expression nonchalant as if he'd merely swatted a fly.
But I couldn't hold on any longer, guilt, fear, and disbelief overwhelmed me, causing me to hyperventilate. I desperately tried to break free, but failed, so I roared helplessly and frantically at his arrogant, handsome face.
Whatever insane mission this monster thought he had to complete, I couldn't endure it any longer. His fingers, still barely cold from blood, tightened his hold on my shoulders, forcing me to stay still. I was certain he had no intention on comforting me.
"You killed him! You killed him!"
I screeched in his arms, gritting my teeth.
"He posed no threat to you at all, why did you do this?"
I felt absolutely exhausted, pain was tearing at my chest. I didn't know why my normal life had gone far away at that time.
Scott didn't say a word, he just shoved me forward. I gave up trying to decipher his emotions, and closed my eyes. Even he were to kill me now, I probably wouldn't even bother struggling.
He stopped in front of that unfortunate guy's motorcycle, picked it up with one arm, and started it.
“Hop on and hold tight!” he commanded before firing up the bike and kicking up the stand. I sat behind Scott, hesitating whether to wrap my arms around his waist.
“You better behave. If you say another word or scream tonight, I’ll rip your vocal cords out.” He turned the motorcycle around and drove back. To prevent myself from yelling under high speed, I held him very tightly.
It was dark, the air heavy. Occasionally, a bus or two would pass by, heading towards the residential areas along the highway. The only wind tonight came from the Harley Davis carrying us, speeding along. I could hear skunks darting through the bushes and birds chirping in the Palo Verdes.
The night before I truly lost the title of holy virgin, I was like this, wearing a pair of overly tight denim shorts, pressed against the back of a blond boy who might be good at bike and guitar. Although neither of them would love me, and both were bastards, at least the former one wasn't a serial killer.
The engine roared deafeningly between my legs, the hum of machine was almost vibrating on my pussy due to the gravel on the road. I was in complete agony of horny. Scott's abs were so hot, his back so warm, and leaning against him, I could hear his overly rhythmic and powerful heartbeat. I remembered him on top of me, letting shame and guilt overwhelm me.
Scott followed me into my house, which was dark and stuffy. The smell of the mosquito repellent and disinfectant I had sprayed throughout the house that morning hadn't completely dissipated. I turned on the dim light in the open kitchen. It would cost me a little in electricity, and I usually wouldn't turn it on at night, but the thought of spending several hours with him in complete darkness made the electricity bill seem insignificant.
He remained as cautious as ever, using the point of his M16 to part the curtains of each room, even though he was clearly the most dangerous person within a kilometer.
I considered pouring him a glass of water, but then I felt annoyed. Like I really welcome this creepy guy to stay here. With that thought, I downed the glass of cold water in one gulp.
I walked to the far end of the living room, intending to open the door and get some bags of ice from the ice maker in the backyard. Scott's behavior today was almost demonic, I'd better keep my promise to him to avoid triggering him.
He appeared in front of me in an instant, slamming the door shut behind him. I scowled at him awkwardly, seeing him trap me in the corner formed by the door and his massive frame.
"I'm just going to get you some ice..." I quickly glanced at his big moobs. Nice tits! I thought.
“I don’t need cooling down at all, you lying little shit.”
He raised his hand and shook the thermal monitor on his wrist. Even though his temperature was abnormally high, the light was still green.
I didn’t know what to do. My previous story was obviously made up. Actually, he could last another hour. I told myself not to overreact. Since he didn't slime my ass in the truck, I might be still useful to him.
I tried to slowly sneak away from under him when Scott suddenly pinched my earlobe in hand.
I swear I almost jumped up. This time wasn't because of my lewd thoughts, but purely out of the fact that he was a freak plus serial killer who collected human ears, and the last thing I wanted was for him to show even the slightest interest in my ears. I probably completely suppressed my anger this time, cowering under him and looking utterly pathetic.
Scott's fingers, rough and calloused from the years of gun holding, gently traced my ear to the back of my neck, his muscular arms supporting my waist as I sank down. I half-closed my eyes, afraid to look him directly, but even in the blur, I could feel his sharply defined face watching with interest the changes he made in me under his touch.
Whether it was fear or desire, I believe my ears were completely burned red by his gaze. Then he pressed his mouth close to my year, skimming his lips over my lobe, I could feel his breath tickling my ear. I gasped and whimpered in embarrassment, half expecting him to pull it into his mouth.
Scott didn't do anything further but sneered when I silently broke into tears.
After a while, he released me, stepping aside. I caught a glimpse of his smug and satisfied expression, and felt unbearably ashamed. This guy was sadistic as fuck. I covered my red ear and glared at him.
But he seemed determined to mess with me, grabbing my arms and shoving me back onto the cold kitchen counter.
Today had been awful, I was exhausted and on the verge of a breakdown, too tired to resist, only able to grumble. So when Scott told me to bend over on the marble counter next to the sink, I did without protests.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a routine body search. Need to make sure you don’t stab me in the back like your ancestors.” He slapped my ass, tone almost joking, and I immediately felt heat flooded my core. Fuck! That was not a good sign.
You don't want to refuse him at all, do you? A voice echoed in my mind, and I insisted on convincing it that I had no choice but to let him do whatever he wanted.
His high body temperature rose with his rough, large hands, which slipped inside my shirt and patted my waist, sending a shiver down my spine. The entire living room was bathed in a dim orange light, and through the reflection of the window, I saw my own face—a rare expression of utter disarray and lust. Although I wanted to puke out of self-hatred, I still didn't want him to stop.
Soon, his long arms slid up my back, slipping through my tight underwire bra. Then, his palms enveloping my breasts instead.
I almost screamed, but remembering his earlier warning, I only groaned, which sounded worse. God...even his fingertips were hot.
He just kneaded me lightly for a couple of moments, and my arms went limp, my upper body collapsing onto the cold counter.
I looked up helplessly at the knives hanging above the stove. My foster father had just sent them to be sharpened two weeks ago. Their gleaming surfaces reflected Scott's shiny blond hair. At that moment, I almost wished he would just stab in my twisted, pathetic heart, before I completely lost my mind because of this monster.
I heard his dark chuckle coming from behind. Damn it, he must had noticed. Both my flushed face and my panting.
Thankfully, he pulled his hand away, and my nipples were probably harden beneath my sweater. I didn't stop him even I was on my verge of everything. But I quickly regretted it, when he started to spread my legs apart and slid his hand down my pants.
"Enough...There's no way I hide a damn gun here! " I cursed and swayed my hips away from him, trying to shake him off.
Thanks to him, I realized my pussy was soaked the moment I got off the motorcycle. I started to blame myself for fantasizing about straddling him and riding this brute's cock until he fucking came. Just seeing his biceps made my lower abdomen cramp, but that didn't mean he could casually touch me all over.
Scott suddenly spanked me hard on my struggling ass, and I realized that this jerk had somehow pulled down my denim shorts without my consent. It wasn't a hard slap, maybe he held back, but I gasped in pain. Needless to say, I would have a bruise by tomorrow. He pulled me up, tugging me in closer to him, his crotch against my lower body. His breath, with the smell of blood and disinfectant, brushed against the back of my neck. I tried so hard to resist the idea of letting him fuck me from behind and suck his perfect dick dry.
“You never know what Vietnamese can put inside their bodies.” His whispering creeped up my neck to the back of my head like a scorpion.
For God sake, I really didn’t want to know.
"Besides disguising explosives as babies, they also stuff poison, grenades, and other things inside..."
His hand gestures foreshadowed his next words. His large, hot palm completely covered my cleft, his middle finger grazed my clit, precisely finding the already wet entrance, and effortlessly slipping inside.
The air seemed to freeze, an anxious silence fell between us. Even he seemed shocked at how wet I had become for him. He quickly added his another finger, slowly and carefully stretching my wet cunt. I reached out and grabbed his forearm, biting my lower lip hard until I tasted the rusty sweetness of my blood. I rested my chin on the muscle of his forearm, wailing and pleading, as if he could free me from this predicament.
After Scott made a flat statement, he started rubbing my clit gently in circular movements with his thumb, and I came all over his hand the next second.
Two minutes passed, maybe even longer. He either confirmed he'd found nothing there, or he'd gotten bored playing with me. He finally pulled his fingers out of my vagina. I immediately pushed him away with all my might, jerked away to the backdoor to create distance.
I didn't want to look at him at all, and quickly pulled up my pants from my shins. The tightness of my shorts slightly offered me some sense of comfort and security. He raised an eyebrow, and right in front of me, with that sinister smile, put those two fingers in his mouth and sucked the wetness by his pink, thick lips.
I stood there dumbfounded. An unusual, intimate atmosphere might have filled the air, but I knew it was totally bullshit.
Just then, the thermal monitor on his wrist flashed red, indicating a high-temperature warning. He glanced down at it and gave me a evil but enormous grin.
"Hurry up and put me some ice in the bathtub."
He took off his clothes and belt on the spot, which allowed me to open the door and leave.
When I rushed back, panting, carrying several bags of ice, the living room was already colder than morgue.
Scott had already turned on all the air conditioners. He was completely naked, had his back to me, leisurely enjoying the cool breeze from the air conditioner while drinking my expired orange juice. When he heard me come in, he turned to face me, leaning smugly against the cabinet, offering no help whatsoever. The disgusting necklace sat on my favorite dessert plate, creating a strangely artistic composition on the coffee table with his classically muscular body.
Yeh, that necklace....I almost forgot this man was utterly insane.
Even though his bronze skin and thick cock were alluring, I was still furious. I told him to at least turn off two of the ac because I had already seen him naked while I was working, and he wasn't the one paying the electricity bill.
He gave me a indifferent look like he hadn't just fingered my pussy. But out of my expectation, he did as I said.
I quickly filled the bathtub with ice packs, and he strolled over, lay down in as if he was the owner of this house, without even a thank you. I stared at his veiny dick for a few seconds and slammed the shower curtain shut, then angrily stripped off my filthy clothes and started showering.
It was 12:30am, I covered my face, stiffly trying to fall asleep. I don't even know how I ended up lying on my deceased foster parents' bed with this huge, dangerous, gleaming golden muscle.
Half an hour ago, I was wearing a thin nightgown and insisted that I would not spend the night with him in the chilly air-conditioned room. But somehow he still firmly believed that if I left his sight, I would do something sneaky like burning the whole house down or poison him.
Scott gave me two choices: he could tie my hands and chain me up in the living room like a livestock, or I could sleep in bed with him. I had a job interview at the pharmacy the next day, and couldn't afford to be more dead that alive in the morning, so I agreed with the second option.
Before lying down, I put the photo frame of my foster parents on the bedside table with their faces down, hoping they wouldn't be frightened by this inhumane creation in heaven.
Peeped through my fingers, I saw his sharp V-line disappear to his clean underwear. I wondered which drawer he'd pulled it out from because it was definitely too small for him. I stared desperately at that bulge, almost drooling. His skin was still warm, the ice bath had only lowered his temperature to a normal level for a Unisols, but he was still hot as fuck in multiple ways.
I stared at his well-developed abs and defined biceps for a while. Now he finally smelled as sweet as my orange blossom shower gel. I hesitated for a few seconds, then put my hand back on the bed, my fingers lightly brushing against his forearm.
I tried to sneak a peek at him again, but found he was still awake, scanning me with those disdainful yet all-knowing eyes behind his thick eyelashes. Rage flared inside me. This bastard had been blackmailing me since the afternoon. I lost my job, couldn't get a proper rest, and had served him for so long, yet he still thought I had the energy to burn down my own house.
I took a deep breath, and turned to his side to place my hand on his bulging cock. He reacted quickly, his thumb gripping my throat in the blink of an eye, and I could feel his cock twitching in pants. I didn't stop, my other hand fondled from his abs all the way to his pecs, while stroking his dick through the fabric at the same time.
Damn, I had wanted to do this for so long. Every muscle on this incredibly handsome creature was so firm and smooth, and he was rock hard.
The pressure on my airway lessened, he restrained me and shoved his finger—the one that had been diggd into someone else's artery—into my mouth.
My thoughts were a jumbled mess, raced with a mixture of panic, desire, and ecstacy. My throat was dry until my eyes finally met his. I had fantasized about similar scenes many times, but now that he was truly on top of me, the feeling was completely different.
I couldn't look directly into his breathtakingly beautiful eyes. So I chose to close my eyes, trying to ignore this unnatural feeling, and greedily licked and sucked his fingers that probably stained with the blood of countless people, until he pulled them out and slapped me hard across the face.
Scott's contemptuous and cruel tone stung me so much that tears streamed down my face.
"Admit it. You just like to get used and messed up like a worthless whore."
I could only endure the humiliation and submit to him, yet he was still so beautiful, even his violent nature couldn't diminish the gleam of his white teeth under his maniacal grin.
Perhaps a wicked thought crossed his mind, for he suddenly knelt up, grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I gasped, watching his golden head bury itself in my inner thigh as he lifted my nightgown.
I realized what he might be about to do, but I couldn't believe it. I thought he would be much more conservative than I was in such matters, but even I felt incredibly embarrassed about oral sex. I tried to back away, but he easily held me in place, and I could only hide my face with a pillow.
"You shouldn't do this... that's disgusting, please don't look..."
My intermittent pleas were to no avail. His hot breath sprayed on my skin. He probably admired it for a moment, I didn't know if depilation was uncommon at his time. He left a sloppy kiss on my inner thighs, and then the entire fold was greedily enveloped in his mouth.
I tried desperately to stifle my moans in the pillow, but they still escaped muffledly. His thick, plumy lips, warm and slow, gave me a captivating, slightly stinging sensation. His tongue was as strong and powerful as he was, and his perfect high-bridged nose pressed against my clit. My thighs began to tremble, as he working me through my climax.
I threaded my fingers into his hair, the pillow rolled to other side, and I was stunned by the gleam of his short blond hair in the darkness.
He smacked the bruise on my butt that he had previously left as a warning.
"Did I give you permission to touch?"
My body tensed up as he started playing my pussy with his fingers again. The bedroom echoed with the wet, sticky sounds. He gently nibbled at my sensitive clit, increasing the speed of his fingers in my dripping entrance until I let out a moan into the night sky.
He lifted his head from between my legs, his lower face glistening with love juice. The scene was too erotic to the point that beyond my comprehension. I collapsed back down, staring at the ceiling, unable to believe I'd been licked to orgasm by a Vietnam War veteran's tongue.
Scott climbed on top of me, grabbing my face back from where I was turning away, forcing me to taste myself on his fingers, causing a needy moan erupted from my mouth. He ripped off my panties, his strong arms roughly exploring my body. When he discovered I wasn't wearing a bra, he slapped me again.
I felt dizzy, my body still trembling from the afterglow of that oral sex. I vaguely heard the sound of my nightgown being torn, then some creepy words about how pretty my ears were before he bit my earlobe. I huffed at him, and he responded by pinching my nipple one by one.
He sat up, the fat tip of his cock rubbing against my buttocks. He ordered me to open my eyes. I didn't want any more bruises, so I quickly obeyed.
"I am on pill." So I want you to cum inside me.
I only said the first half of the sentence. He hoisted my legs onto his shoulders, his lips were set in a cute pout, and he gave my knee a quick kiss. For the first time, I let a relaxed laughter slipped out of my mouth in front of him.
“Alright, you slut~” he almost told me gently.
Then, Scott put his hand on my mouth, and I nearly suffocated because his hand was too big that even my nostrils were covered. He lifted my entire body upwards and thrust into me all at once.
I should have known he wouldn't have much patience to give me time to adjust. I gripped the sheets tightly, arching my back, and pain shot through my lower body. He clicked his tongue, pulled back a little, and then thrust in again.
I cried and screamed, thrashing beneath him, sound leaking through his hand. He was so big, knowing how much violence he's capable of, I wondered if he would split me in half or kill me mid fuck just for fun.
Luckily, Scott was in a good mood and my vagina was already soaking wet, he only bottomed me out in a few strokes. When his hips finally meet my ass, I could hear his guttural groan left his lips, so I clawed on his broad shoulders. The feeling of being all filled while having my air supply cut was too intense, that I almost passed out in overstimulation.
Although hard to admit, I would be a liar if I said I wasn't into rough sex and a little bit struggling. When I finally moaned out in pleasure, he allowed me to breathe.
He began to thrust into me with relentless force, pressing my lower belly that twitching with his movements.
I was not a big fan of missionary position, but I appreciated it for the first time for it allowed me to gaze upwards at his marble-sculpted body from the perfect angle, every muscle clearly defined to a certain extent that I could even know their specific names on my anatomy book. I was totally enchanted, drooling, almost worshipping.
Sensing my adoring gaze, his Adam's apple bobbed slightly, giving me his signature villainous grin, still breathtakingly beautiful.
"You are a pathetic masochist who is obsessed with violence." He taunted me.
Sobbing, I attempted to deny by pummelling his chest but he immediately brushed my hands away.
Scott leaned closer, his hand captured my wandering hand, our fingers interlacing. I was trapped between the mattress and his burly body. I met his blue eyes, for a second I believed that there were everlasting sparkles between them that made this perfect machine indifferently hunting and killing forever.
I didn't respond him, because fuck it, I needed to enjoy the scene.
“I can smell the scent of your slippery little pussy,” he adjusted the angle of penetration, and sped up, hitting my G-spot every time and stretching me from inside with crazy intensity. My legs started to go numb, and I groaned helplessly as I reached orgasm. His golden pubic hair get wet again.
“You’ve been wriggling around thirstily ever since you sat in my car, and your tight cunt get incredibly wet the moment I threaten you.”
Why did I only remember Unisols have keen sense of hearing? Of course, the sense of smell might also be a factor, but I'm quite lazy when it comes to taking notes.
But I had no time to think. My breathing became more and more rapid and erratic, his movements almost wild. My hips trembled with each thrust, and I was breathless from his fucking. I didn't want to do anything but moan to chase my another release.
Scott wrapped my long hair around his hand, yanked me back strongly to expose my neck, and then pushed me face down onto the bed. I instantly became his plaything. He truly did whatever he wanted to me. Lifting me up, dragging me, smacking me until I begged for mercy, and then fucking me down on his erect cock.
I probably came five times, or more. I can't quite remember because my mind was becoming increasingly chaotic and obscene, while his stamina was designed to be terrifyingly strong.
The last time, he rolled me off the bed, my cheek pressed against the carpet, and he stepped on my head, railing me hard from behind. I cried out his name, some honorifics from the military, but he suddenly stopped and pulled his stony cock away from my clenching.
I was so turned on, about to explode, not interested in fucking edging.
To my horror, Scott took his revolver out, rubbing it between my inner thighs, teasing my moist entrance sadistically while telling me how many people's life he had taken by his gun.
"No...no...Andrew, take that shit away from me!" My voice wavered as he tightened the grip on my thighs, almost hurting.
"Your cock please...Sir, I want yours" I wailed, trying to crawl away from him but failed because my head was pinned on the floor by him.
I heard him laughing arrogantly at my pathetic pleas, then the sound of loading.
"Any last words?" He asked.
Instead of the bullets I was waiting, his warm dick rammed into my pussy. His hips rolling against mine, juicy tip hitting my cervix as he fucked me into oblivion.
It was a fucking miracle that I survived, but we were both so damn close when he finally reached high and shot his hot seeds into my throbbing womb. I shattered beneath his massive muscles, with a few final strokes, he shoved all the seeped out cum into me and prolonged my heavy climax.
After the pleasure, Scott turned the air conditioning down even lower. He picked me up, threw me back onto the bed, and lay down with me, continuing to press the heel of his hand on my spasming lower belly. Warm liquid streamed out of my pussy, causing my lower legs to shiver, and I immediately slapped his hand away.
The room fell silent again. I glanced at the clock, it was 2am. I got up and headed for the bathroom to wash myself. I was covered in the wet mess we made and couldn't even walk straight, but there wasn't a single drop of sweat on him. He immediately followed me, hand touching my butt again. I glared at him, and he gave me a flirty raise of his eyebrow.
"Need to make sure you won't stab me in the back."
He said this before we had our first kiss.
a/n: I hope you guys enjoy! I am not a perfectionist and might made a few grammatical mistakes😅 Feel free to check my ao3 account if you are interested to read the Chinese version.
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