sun has set permanently. @otaku-tactician - Tumblr Blog

A/N: Well, this is what happens when you watch Ready or Not 2 and accidentally start simping for the 50-something Titus Danforth because he brutally beat up a woman (and looked so fucking hot doing it). Except I just made that scenario even hotter. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me. Enjoy!

Ship: Original Female Character (Reader) x Original Male Character

Wordcount: 24,8k

Summary: There's a serial killer on the loose - at least that's what the media says. You don't really care, you need to get out, party and enjoy your life. But, unfortunately for you, the man you run into is anything but harmless. When neither fleeing nor fighting seems to work, you resort to the third option: Living out your mask kink fantasy.

Tags: #18+ #mdni #no use of y/n #explicit sexual content #fucking a serial killer #mildly dubious consent #both are problematic tbh #squint your eyes and it's almost romantic #masked killer #feral fucking #porn with plot

Ravens mate for life

No one ever expects their own quaint home town to become the hunting grounds of a brutal serial killer. That's shit that happens to others, far away, stuff you only hear about on the news before you briefly comment on how fucked up this world is and then switch channels and go about your day.

It's not something you hear from familiar faces living in your neighborhood. There's too many names already too keep track of them. The most recent one being Mrs. Richards who lost her husband and daughter to the disgusting whims of that one psychotic, twisted individual the police just can't seem to get a single good lead on.

They've started calling him Kain the Mayberry Butcher - as if this was all a bad Slasher movie and not real people being brutally murdered.

He - it has to be a man - follows no protocol when choosing his victims. They're all selected seemingly at random, no common denominator marking them. And there's no congruency in how they're murdered either. Bludgeoned to death, burned to a crisp, dismembered, hanged by a metal spike through their throat and then left to struggle and die like in some medieval torture methods. Every abhorrent way you can think of to die, Kain has done it and then some.

There's a curfew now. Everyone's got to be home by 9 p.m., doors locked and windows shut. Police cars patrolling the deserted streets.

It's been eight weeks already and there hasn't been a single murder since.

You're sick and tired of it. Nothing's happening and you're feeling bored to death having to remain stooped up in your tiny one-bedroom apartment. There's nothing to do, you've cleaned every surface, every nook and cranny of your apartment until not a single speck of dust remained. And then you cleaned it again. And again, finding nothing else to occupy yourself with.

Movies are garbage nowadays, most books are the same old meet-cute scenarios self-published TikTok authors keep regurgitating and the news just keep on repeating the same shit over and over and over again about Kain's poor victims while Mrs. Richards' family is long buried and rotting in their graves. You can't even go to the gym at your regular time.

It sucks.

A deep groan rumbles out of you as you look at the digital alarm on your bedside table for the second time in what can't be more than five minutes: 09:47 p.m. - Curfew time.

You flop back onto your worn mattress, head hanging limply over the edge, looking up at the paint peeling off your ceiling. This apartment sucks ass, too.

"I'm going fucking insane."

As if those were the words to a prayer the God's secretly wanted to hear, your phone suddenly chimes beside you, a notification popping up as its screen lights up your unlit room. You roll over onto your stomach and reach for the device, expecting yet another stupid Instagram reel but finding a random Facebook invite instead. You know the girl who sent the invite - if barely. You've talked a few months ago on a night out when you met her group at a bar. If it wasn't for her name written out on the screen (it's Sophia) you wouldn't have the slightest clue as to what her actual name was, that's how little she remained in your mind.

She did have pretty hair though.

Normally you wouldn't pay her message no mind, but on a lame ass light like this you'll gladly take any opportunity presented to you - grimey as it may be. Anything's better than rotting in bed all day and missing out on the best years of your life. Especially since it's a Saturday night.

Sophia M: Hey girl, there's a party happening tonight. At the abandoned resort. Come join us, pleaaaaase💖

The abandoned resort? That's a good 20mins outside of town. And you're coming alone, your own friends are too wussy to even think about breaking any of the imposed rules.

So the drive there got to be at least 30 bucks for an Uber. Usually you don't like spending that much money on just transportation alone. But then again, it's not like you've been spending money much on anything besides food and water lately. You could spare the 30 dollars. And you could surely catch a ride back with Sophia and her friends.

Oh fuck it. What's the worst that could happen?

You: Fuck the curfew. I'm coming.

It's not like Kain is still in Mayberry anyway. There haven't been any cases here since the curfew was erected a few weeks ago. Instead, there's been two murders two towns over in Enwood's Creek. A decapitated torso with its skin mostly missing and an elderly man who's been drowned in his own bathtub - only it was filled with oil instead of water. Real weird shit.

Authorities are still debating whether it's the Mayberry Butcher himself or a copycat. To you it's clear though, Kain must've moved to a new hunting ground.

It'll be fine, you tell yourself. I'll take my chances.

You send a thumbs up emoji in response to Sophia's meetup place at the old resort and then you put on your favourite playlist and hop off the bed with new found energy. Time to get ready!

00:39 a.m.

The resort's decrepit dining hall is packed to the brim. Countless people in their 20s breaking curfew, moving and grinding to the hammering bass pouring out of a sound system that seems way too professional for a short-notice party such as this one. There's even a simple lighting setup mounted to the walls and pillars that sends cascades of colorful lasers raining down onto the mass of drunk rule-breakers. It smells like varying body washes, sweat and the sickly sweet fragrance of vape fumes.

Everyone brought their own liquor, they had to, because there's no bar. You drank two beers on the way here but honestly you can't be bothered to drink any more - not that you hate being drunk, not at all, but the toilet situation here in this run-down resort is... well, let's just not talk about that.

Sophia's friends are okay but that's about it. They did a few lines of coke off each other as soon as you all arrived and met up in the dusty lobby. You declined, drugs aren't really your thing, especially not if you're not the one who bought them. God knows what's in there, you're already breaking curfew by being here, snorting a stranger's drugs on top of that is too much of a risk, even for you.

Regardless of that it's been fun so far. The music's great and after having to stay cooped up in your apartment for so long, coming out here feels like rain after a long drought. You absolutely needed this, even if the location itself takes some getting used to.

The Cedarcrest Resort used to be a luxury hotel retreat at the outskirts of Mayberry. It's surrounded by artificial ponds and golf courses that have all gone well past overgrown by now. The tall halls and long corridors have been reclaimed by nature as well and since it's been a popular lost place for the past 5+ years a lot of the buildings' infrastructures have suffered as well. Rubble piles littering the once pretty tiled floor, broken furniture as far as the eye can see and so many unlit hallways and rooms you get dizzy trying to count them all.

It's fucking creepy, if you were being honest. But you were anything if not a horror lover. This is right up your alley, even if shivers climb up your back every time your eyes wander to any of these corners and gaping doorframes that are being swallowed up by darkness.

You look away from the far end of the room, choosing to concentrate on the best vibrating in your chest instead as Supermassive Black Hole comes to an end and the DJ now plays AWOLNATION's Run. It's not your typical pop music, but, God, you absolutely love it. It fits the vibe of this whole place so well.

The five of you have been dancing non stop and even though you came here with them as a group you've already grown tired of being around them. They don't feel the music as much as you do, constantly complaining about the DJs choice of songs, calling them 'too edgy' and whatnot. Honestly they're way too fucking basic for you.

So within the hour you've found yourself standing some few feet away from their circle, already having decided to just take an Uber back home again. Fuck the 30 dollar fee.

Luckily for you, you don't mind dancing alone at all.

You sway to the music, letting your gaze wander over the crowd of people actually feeling the music. Once you look back to your left, you realize Sophia and her friends are gone without a trace. You can't help but snort a humorless laugh. Good riddance, I guess.

Still feels kinda shitty to just be left alone like this. But then again, you did start it by distancing yourself from their conversations first and eventually stepping away from the group circle altogether. Ah, whatever.

Fuck them.

The song's coming up to its drop, tension slowly building as you move your hips to the entrancing rhythm of it. Hands traveling over your thighs, hips and waist, eyes closed as you sing along to the lyrics you know by heart.

"I am a human being, capable of doing terrible things. I am a human being, capable of doing terrible things-"

Suddenly someone screams. Raw. Terrified. Loud enough to cut through the blasting music. It's blood-curdling.

Still, the music builds, mirroring the rapid pounding now in your chest. You're already tearing your eyes open, searching the room for whatever prompted that scream.

You catch glimpse of a tall, masked figure among the crowd, the serrated edge of a knife catching the red beam of a laser as they turn their hand.

In the split second it takes you to realize what's in front of you, you notice the blade dripping. A figure crumpled and twitching on the floor. Dark liquid spreading out below them.

The beat drops.

RUN!

Chaos breaks loose. The crowd starts moving like a flock of terrified pigeons, everyone running off to different directions as screams and shouts almost burst your eardrums.

You lose track of the masked figure almost immediately. And that's a problem, but he was standing between you and the main exit the last time you saw him. Not familiar with the layout of the place (and certainly not in the correct headspace to make rational decisions), you bolt into the opposite direction, knocking a few shoulders while doing so.

Having watched enough horror movies, you know better than to turn around, getting as far away from the threat and hiding is your best bet right now. This place is massive, there's no way someone will be able to find you once you get deep enough into one of the dark corridors of the resort. And from there it'll be easy to exit through a broken window and track your way back to the main road.

Shivers creep up your back as paranoia and the fear of being watched settle heavy in your gut. This is fucking crazy. Is it the Mayberry Butcher? Is it really Kain?

Whatever it is - and even if this is merely a really distasteful joke someone decided to pull - you don't care to find out. You dip behind a sharp corner and slip into a wholly unlit hallway next; this one's smaller, not as wide and tall as the other ones. It was probably used by the employees rather than the guests. Darkness engulfs everything, if it wasn't for the full moon breaking through the clouds from time to time everything would've been drowned in black.

Luckily, your eyes already got used to the darkness. You slow your steps, holding your breath to try to listen for any sound other than the thundering happening inside your chest. You've cleared quite the distance in the last minute or two, so much apparently, that the music sounds quiet muffled in this remote part of Cedarcrest.

Regardless, the fear stays with you. You're so panicked you can't tell whether that's more screams in the distance or just your own ears ringing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest already makes you grow dizzy, even as you're gulping down swaths of air in a helpless attempt to calm your nerves. But unfortunately your body just doesn't seem to want to settle.

Breathe, just breathe. You're fine.

It's eerily quiet now, almost too much so. It seems no one followed you here, none of the other partygoers, and no knife-wielding maniac either. Your shoulders sag with relief, the hammering of your pulse against your neck slowly starting to ease up with each breath you take.

Then, you jolt, the crunch of a shoe.

Somewhere.

Fuck, where did that come from. Was it close by? You can't tell, the countless empty halls distort any and all noise, making it echo and bounce off the crumbling walls.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

No more waiting. You turn around on your heels, bolting down the hallway on sheer instinct alone. Mind racing. There's no way someone's following you. There's no fucking way!

It's pitch black here. Shapes bleed into each other, every corner and framed picture, every decrepit statue looking like it's out to get you. Your feet rapt harder against the cracked flooring and you squint your eyes to try and see better when the moon forsakes you and hides behind a cluster or clouds, leaving you to your own fate as if it didn't want to watch. Fucking shit, you're scared for your life and you can't see five feet in front of you.

What the fuck is this night!

Your footsteps ricochet off the walls and you can't tell whether it's merely the sound of your own two feet or a second pair chasing after you. Sweat clings to your nape like a cold, second skin - suffocating, binding, warning.

Just when you're about to round another corner, something hard suddenly hits you square in the chest.

You fly back with a yelp, practically bouncing off the mass as you hit the ground with a sharp, cracking impact. Pain sears through your body, bright and hot. And just then a wheeze tears out of you from how hard your unprotected spine connects with the icy cold marble tiles below. There's not a single ounce of air left in your lungs, any sense of up and down has fled you and yet your arms still fly out as you try and scramble for purchase. Unfortunately, all your hands struggle to find is scattered rubble and dirt.

Your head pounds aggressively, painfully. Or is it your chest? Truly, you can't tell - everything hurts. Every breath is a struggle, your torso and lungs still cramping from the sudden, brutal impact that knocked you on your ass.

But all of that is nothing compared to the terror that hits you when you realize one crucial, horrible detail: Whatever you just ran into... that thing felt warm.

Like flesh.

A body. A person.

Immediately you roll over and try to get back on your feet, but a ruthless kick between your shoulders sends you scrambling across the floor a second time, tearing your palms open from tiny rocks and shards of glass scattered everywhere.

Groaning in pain, you finally push yourself off the floor with a wince, back muscles straining and screaming from the movement.

"Would you look at that. One little birdie got away."

A male voice. Deep, gravelly. Words spoken from lips that sound like they're smiling.

An icy cold shiver runs down your back and your heart stops dead in its track. From sheer fucking willpower alone, you finally do manage to stand, squaring your aching shoulders.

The sky tears open as if called upon, clouds parting to reveal the cold, silver light of the moon cascading through tall window frames. There he stands, bright as day, the same impossibly big frame from the dance floor. The same blood-stained blade clasped between his fingers.

Every drop of blood in your veins turns to ice.

He found you. He did. Kain found you and now he's going murder you.

You're actually going to die tonight.

Because you couldn't last another goddamn week without a party. Holy shit - that's ridiculous.

Anger and fear war inside you as your mind races with every possible emotion, every possible scenario and every gruesome death your brain can conjure up. This can't be happening right now. No way in hell are you actually going to just die like this in this disgusting dump of a place!

"Fuck you, asshole!", you snarl, lips curled back and chin tipped up like the arrogant piece of shit you truly are. Of all emotions - anger has won. You're not going to go down without a fight. Fuck. Him. If he wants to kill you, he'll have to fucking earn it!

Kain cocks his head to the side, the blade going limp in his hand.

"Well that's a bit rude, don't ya think?"

... Is he for real right now?

"You just kicked me in the back!", you yell, blindly reaching for your fanny pack with trembling fingers. You can practically feel your body dumping adrenaline into your nervous system - readying itself for a fight.

"Oh Birdie, I'm gonna do so much worse than just kicking you." There it is again, you can hear him grinning. As if none of this was serious. As if he didn't just stab someone minutes earlier.

"We'll see about that, dipshit", you say as you pull out the butterfly knife you stole from your dad when you were barely 14 years old. Thank God for being the weird emo kid back in high-school, because you actually know how to use it, nimble fingers sliding along the hard edges and creases etched into the silver metal. "You're not the only one with a knife", you add, making your point.

You flip the blade open with a practiced flick of your wrist, widening your stance and pushing your feet into the ground as you do in order to get a more stable footing.

"Cute", Kain says dryly, nodding to your blade, so far making no move to close the short distance between you.

The moon makes no attempt to hide itself again, and so you two can actually see each other quite well in here. Well enough for you to tell he must be wide and trained below that black sweater hoodie. His face's hidden below an equally dark balaclava, only his eyes visible for you to stare back into.

He's tall and he's big, and hopefully that makes him slow, too. You might have a chance if you play your cards right.

"It ain't about the size, hm?", you retort, tightening your fingers around the cold metal of the handle of your butterfly. For some reason you certainly do sound more courageous than you're actually feeling right now. But what other option do you have, realistically?

It's eat or be eaten.

If that means stabbing someone (because you absolutely will do that if he so much as moves a muscle in your direction) then you're more than willing to abandon your own morals for your survival.

It's on bitch.

Before you can change your mind (because heaven knows this is definitely not the smartest move in the book), you lunge forward, grabbing the knife in your hand tighter and aiming straight for that sick son of a bitch's torso. Because the best defense is offense.

Every alarm system in your head is blaring, synapses firing, morals protesting, but you straight up ignore all of it. He's Kain, there's no question, no doubt; the attire, the distinct smell of blood clinging to him like an ominous cloak. It all paints pretty clear picture. And it's not a pretty one.

You reach him with two large steps, shocked to realize truly how large this man is up close and yet you don't hesitate to thrust your strong hand forward, ready to feel his flesh give way under the force of your blade.

But, unfortunately, you don't connect with anything. Kain rotates where he stands, in a move that's honestly way too nimble for a person of his frame, and parries your attack by grabbing your outstretched forearm with terrifying, bone-shattering strength. He twists your limb without mercy, making you wince from the flaring ache while he - in one fluent move - pushes you behind and away from him.

The momentum of it all carries you forward, no chance of stopping, arms thrown out to grab onto anything within reach but only feeling empty air. And then, before you're ever able to draw in a single breath, another brutal kick sends you flying.

Pain sears through your body and leaves your mouth in a yelp.

This time he got you in the side of your ribs - with enough force he's sure to have cracked some of them.

You barrel face first into a stone wall, unable to catch yourself and instead crumpling to the floor into a groaning ball of aching, hyperventilating breaths that don't do jackshit in helping you calm down or ease the brutal pain lighting up your entire right side.

Although ashamed by your own weakness, by how easily he stopped you, although you try so hard to keep it down, the moan escaping your throat next can't be stopped. There's simply too much pain for you to contain - a broken noise that doesn't even sound like yourself anymore.

Above you, Kain is laughing. A cruel, hoarse sound that couldn't stand in bigger contrast. One that also makes you think he might be younger than you initially had guessed.

You retch, stomach cramping suddenly and back bowing from the lack of air in your lungs. Holy shit, he got you good.

Your mind is screaming at you, to get back up, to fight. This isn't enough, he's not going to win this easily.

One of your hands comes up against the cold stone wall, pulling yourself up on it as the other - the one with the knife still clutched in it - wipes away the messy strands of hair that have fallen into your eyes and block your vision.

"Piece of shit", you eye him with vicious, murderous intent, wiping away the string of spit clinging to your chin. He's really pissed you off now. Instead of merely fighting to flee from him you actually want to hurt him now.

Clamping the blade between your teeth, you use the elastic around your wrist to pull your hair up into a bun, the whole time keeping your eyes on him.

"Take your time, sweetheart."

And he's just standing there with no tension in his muscles, watching you as if he's in no rush to finish this. Because.. he's playing with you, you realize quickly. He's a sadist - a subhuman thing that enjoys making others suffer to establish his own superiority.

Fan-fucking-tastic. You couldn't just get the regular murderer; no, you just had to get the torturing weirdo kind.

Kain cocks his head to the side, his laughter still echoing through the hallways around, eyes vibrant in the silver moonlight, glowing as if he's reading your thoughts as they pass through your mind.

"You're definitely more stupid than the ones I've dealt with before", he says out of nowhere and you can feel his gaze travel up and down your frame as he speaks.

Asshole.

"Others call that being brave", you argue back immediately, voice rough from overexertion.

He just laughs again and shrugs dismissively; the aggressiveness with which he doesn't take you seriously clearly showing in the slouch of his broad shoulders. "So? Then you'll just die braver than the rest."

He tilts his head to the other side, again studying you for a short moment, the tip of his blade tapping against where his mouth would be behind his balaclava. "It's whatever, doesn't change anything for me."

Then - he's moving, towards you. Terrifying and so fast you don't get time to tense your muscles before the impact of his fist wrecks your stomach. You curl forward, bending over his arm that's practically buried in your torso, coughing and groaning and angry.

Your next slash is directed straight at his neck, faster than the first one. More intentful. Feral.

But he's taller than you thought, you get him right above his chest instead, where his collarbones are. There's the sound of fabric being torn and the feeling of your blade sliding through something organic. A triumphant grin slashes into your lips - you got him this time.

But before you can celebrate your hit, Kain knocks your feet away from under you with a well placed swipe of his right leg.

You crash to the floor again, growling and in pain. But you're getting used to the throbbing ache now, either that, or your fury has started to dull out all other senses. Whatever it is - it works.

Just as Kain's about to kick you a second time, you brace yourself, ready to take the hit. Tensing all of your muscles and protecting your sensitive parts with your arms and knees, you don't even flinch when his heavy boot connects with you this time.

No, this time you know it's coming.

This time you grab his leg - the left one now - as soon as it's within reach, curling yourself around it on the floor as the tip of his heavy duty boot digs into your stomach. You don't allow yourself to hesitate - with a short but powerful strike of your arm, you crash your knife into his shin, so deep the blade gets swallowed up by his pants and flesh and-

Grinning, you try to twist the blade, tear more of his flesh apart and make him hurt and weep and-... But, wait, what? It's... stuck?

The smile immediately vanishes off your lips, euphoria erased as your eyes dart up to his masked face. He's looking down at you, not a flicker of pain in sight.

This isn't right, he should be howling in agony.

You struck his bone!

Your fingers jerk the knife again, trying to move it, to pull it out, anything, but the only thing you're graced with is a weird unfamiliar sound? Like grating?

"How- what the hell!" Strain and confusion cling to your voice like tar and you're unable to shake off the feeling of something being really, really wrong - just as Kain is unable to shake you off his leg. Except he's not even trying. Instead he's back to laughing down at you. Now hoarse enough to pull goosebumps from your flesh.

"Ahhh sorry, sweetheart. But that leg's been compromised for a few years now." He bends down slightly as he speaks, rapping his knuckles against the spot below his knee. A hollow sounding noise greats you, almost echoing through the hall. "See? Carbon."

You look up at him, shell-shocked. A prosthetic leg. That one good chance you get and you hit his prosthetic fucking leg!

Kain stands back up, rolling his shoulders back as if to get rid of a muscle twist and fuck - he practically towers over you, casting his shadow and shielding you from the moonlight. Darkness all around. You can't move, every muscle in your body has gone numb because slowly but surely the desperate little voice in the back of your mind starts to get louder.

"Drunk driver's been quicker than you. Pity, eh?"

What the hell are you supposed to say? How are you going to get out of this?!

You need to get your knife back. You need a weapon-

"Should've picked the other leg", he hisses, voice cruel.

The next second he's on you, one gigantic hand wrapping around your throat and pulling you off the floor. Until your legs straighten back out, until the tips off your shoes scrape against the floor and then you're helplessly airborne. Gravity and despair alike pulling down at you, both fear and Kain's ruthless fingers constricting your airways as you struggle in his hold.

Eyes wide, you realize it's the first time that you're eye-level with him. The moon hits his face at exactly that moment and his eyes start glowing. The coldest grey you've ever seen, like mercury, some eye-black smeared around them. Shivers creep up your back and for a brief second you stop struggling, stop fighting his relentless grasp.

Only one of his pupils constricts - the right one.

The other one doesn't move, doesn't even change when bright white light dances across it. It's blown, strangely contorted out of shape, and just as scarred as the rest of the eye as it eats up most of the surrounding grey iris.

If there was any oxygen left in your lungs, your breath would surely hitch. The sight is frightening and captivating all at once.

This is it.

No way in hell are you getting out of his grip, you can feel your vision starting to blur at the edges.

Kain brings you closer to his face, not even struggling with your weight, not giving a single shit you're using your nails to claw red marks into his hand and straining forearm holding you. He studies you for a moment, the panicked expression in your eyes, the way your eyebrows pinch together and then you feel his gaze settle on your lips.

Warmth spreads throughout your body, starting at your chest and stomach. The sensation of it being so misplaced it makes you huff out a confused breath of air. Maybe it's the way he looks at you? Or maybe it's the fact you're about to pass out.

Tears now rim your lashes. You can't tell what he's thinking, his eyes are as intense as they are expressionless. And the rest of his face is hidden by that stupid balaclav-

Suddenly - without warning - Kain lowers his arm and sets you back down on the ground. He lets go of you entirely, your body immediately going cold from the loss of his touch even as you sway on your feet, blood rushing back to your brain, lungs heaving and heart racing as you cough and rub at your sore neck.

"I'm in a good mood today", he starts, making you jump from the rasp in his voice.

"And you're the first one to ever get this far."

Your eyes dart to the knife still stuck in his fake leg for the faintest part of a second. You can't concentrate, every alarm bell in your head is blaring, your heart feels as if it's about to jump out of your chest and your pulse hammers so rapidly you can feel it on your neck.

Kain stands in front of you, impossibly close, impossibly tall, oozing heat and danger and something else enitrely. Something you can't name. Something that scares you - bloodlust?

"I'll give you a freebie, Birdie."

And then Kain shocks you by taking a step back and holding his arms out, stretching them as far as they go and shocking you a second time by the sheer width of his torso.

"You get one free hit. Ten seconds. I won't move, pinky promise", he says with a wink, and for some reason he sounds cheerful? As if he didn't just grant you the opportunity to seriously hurt him. This dude is actually nuts.

Nevertheless, you eye his right hand with obvious suspicion. He's still holding onto his blade. Yeah right. As if you're stupid enough to fall for that.

Kain must notice your glare. He clicks his tongue, throwing the knife behind him without a second thought. A good twenty feet, from what you can tell with this little lighting. You flinch again when it hits the stone floor; the loud clattering of metal against marble breaking you out of your stupor.

"Tick tock, baby."

Another hot rush washes over you. Fire licks at your nerves.

Your body moves before your brain catches up, muscles remembering the countless times you practiced that move with your childhood friend. Thanks Hiro, for teaching you Osoto Gari when you were in middle school.

Because the bigger the foe, the harder they fall.

Grabbing the front of Kain's hoodie, you push your hip into his torso and jerk him forward - off balance - at the same time. A quick, strong sweep of your leg immediately following behind, hooking behind his knee.

Fuck you, bastard.

He hits the floor with a loud, violent crash, his back colliding with the stone with so much force you're sure he must've injured himself in the process. A rough groan slips out of him, loud and unwanted.

You're on him a blink later, straddling his chest, face flushed red-hot with anger and chest doused in fiery wrath, ready to pay him back every ounce of pain he had you endure within the last twenty minutes.

Before your fists are able to connect with his face however, Kain's own hands shoot out and catch yours mid-air, halting your violence. He jerks you forward, bringing you face to face and holding you there as your hair falls forward and shields the two of you from the moonlight.

Both of you are heaving, close enough to share breaths as you glare at each other.

"Violent little bird", he growls through his mask. And the sound unleashes something inside of you. A heat that's quite different from the burning anger you felt before and way more dangerous in its existence.

You want to bite him, this fucking bitch of an asshole! You try to shake him off, to rip your hands free from his impossible grasp, but his long fingers completely engulf your wrists and you're afraid if you shake them any harder he's going to snap them in two.

More rough noises spill from his throat, his chest vibrating underneath you, making the tense muscles in your thighs twitch. It takes you a second to realize this is the sound of Kain laughin - again.

What the actual fuck is wrong with this guy?! You eye him with a mix of bewilderment and fury and pull your lips back into an angry scowl.

"You actually are stupid", his voice damn near shakes with amusement.

"What-", you try to ask, but he immediately interrupts you.

"You could've just run away!", he raises his voice - as if agitated on your behalf. "You could've gotten a ten second head start! Are you telling me you can't outrun an amputee?!"

You draw back in shock. He's right. You didn't even think about that.

"You're a fucking idiot!", he bellows, voice bouncing off the decrepit walls. Then he breaks out into laughter. Unhinged, psychotic laughter that shakes his whole body and yours with it.

More anger crashes through you. A bolt of lightning turning your spine rigid. A fury so wild it makes your skin feel tight and thin, barely able to hold it all in. "I'll fucking kill you", you snarl down at him, fantasizing about gouging out his weird mismatched eyes.

"That's my line."

You try to free yourself again, sliding back down his torso and trying to pull your arms with you, use all the leverage you can get, anything, but his grip remains unrelenting. Tight like a vice, surely bruising your delicate flesh in the process.

"Let go of me, fucker!"

Kain just looks up at you, eyes shimmering with amusement, thick, dark eyebrows twisted in mock-pity. "Look at you, squirming and angry, flapping your wings like a little sparrow. Ravens eat sparrows, did you know that?"

"You gotta stop with the bird analogies, man. It's fucking cringe."

That - for some reason - actually seems to annoy him. He takes a deep breath and lets go of your wrists, beefy arms falling uselessly to his sides.

You're on him without a moment of hesitation, hands wrapping around his corded neck and squeezing with every bit of strength you can muster. Your whole body hurts, you're so stressed and exhausted and it's all his fault!

He needs to pay for this shit!

Kain just lets you choke him like that. You're not even sure whether this is doing anything to him; your hands are so small compared to his body. And even his fucking neck is wrapped in tense muscles and sinew. Pissed as you are though, you don't hold back. Your pointed fingernails dig into his skin, hoping to draw blood and make it hurt.

Under the fabric of his balaclava it looks as if his mouth drops open.

All of a sudden, his hands are back on you. Your heart stops, eyes going wide and mouth falling open in much the same gesture he just did. Kain's hands, warm and rough and so large, grab your hips and shove you backward with a sharp push. You slide down his stomach, back arching and arms stretching long as to not give up the tight hold you have staked on his neck. It's the only thing that gives you even the slightest feeling of control in this grotesque situation.

The delusion of being able to stop him.

You hear him draw in a sharp breath, feel his fingers flex against you as he holds you in place and just keeps staring up at you.

Words elude you, brain scambling for purchase as you shift on top of him, your legs stretched wide on top of his hips. Shock is too less of a word to describe your sudden realization - terror is more like it.

"Are you hard..?" Your voice is barely loud enough to be audible, cracking on the last vowel.

Against every rational part in your brain you grind down slowly, trying to confirm for yourself what you think you've just felt.

The hard ridge of Kain's cock presses up against you - big and undeniable.

"What the fuck", you whisper, unable to process what you're feeling. Overwhelmed is putting it lightly. You're on top of the man who tried to murder you for the past twenty minutes - and he's popping a massive boner!

Instead of answering you, Kain tightens his grip on you and moves your hips back and forth once, pressing you down against him as he does. It's merely a few inches, and yet it's more than enough to pull a deep, hoarse groan out of him when your middle drags across his erection.

Your heartbeat suddenly picks up, blood heating and rushing to both your cheeks and the pit below your navel. That friction feld good.

Oh my God.

No.

This can not be happening right now. Please, for the love of God, you can not get turned on by a psycho killer. This feeling is actually much worse than just being chased by one.

What the fuck is wrong with me, your own thoughts scream at you, scrambling to come up with a logical explanation - any good reason, to be feeling this - and finding none.

You're fucked. Easy as that. Body and soul alike.

More heat pools inside you against your will, numbing your body to the pain and relaxing your shoulders entirely against your will. You have to get away from him - STAT!

"Just let me go", you implore helplessly, speech frantic, unable to come up with anything better. "I won't tell anyone about this, I haven't even seen your face!"

Before you have a chance to react, before you even manage to close your eyes and avoid the inevitable, Kain tears off mask.

Your heart fucking stops. Instantly, your eyes drink him in - every single inch, every hair out of place.

"Can't let you go now, sorry little sparrow", he rasps. His voice sounds even deeper than before, it rattles you down to the core, down to the very marrow of your bones.

His face.

What the fuck happened to him.

His burnt flesh ripples, muscles spasming and stretching as he smirks, though you can't quite read the expression passing over him even as the moonlight seems to grow even brighter, ruthlessly hightlighting every imperfection visible on him.

"Sorry, did that scare you?"

It does sound sincere, something almost like concern carrying along his question. And that confuses you. Deeply. There's an edge of hurt hidden underneath his words, too, and something sharp - something accusatory.

You can't make sense of this guy. Your body hovers somewhere between fight or flight.

Everything he does confuses you and simultaneously draws you in closer. Like a silent trap, a noose tightening around your neck without you even noticing you've been caught in the first place.

"I-", you start, but fail to find the right words, hands going slack around his throat. And for the first time the soft pads of your fingers feel the rough texture on the left side of his neck.

This shouldn't get to you to this extent. But it does.

Why do you feel bad for this murderer?

You can tell he was handsome once. He even looks about the same age as you and somehow that makes it worse. Something must've happened to him. Something cruel and violent that broke his body. Maybe even his soul.

Kain's entire left side is mangled - covered in burns and scars. They're old and healed, but rough and textured. Even his shaggy black hair is bisected by them on the left side of his skull. His brow, cheek, and his left eye too are forever crossed by these countless marks. Suddenly the defect in his pupil makes sense.

"The drunk driver?", you ask, the question tumbling from your lips before you can stop yourself and consider the dangers of irritating this unhinged individual by bringing up his surely very traumatic past.

Kain's own lips slowly stretch into an even cruder smile, chest expanding with a deep inhale. Again, the left side of his mouth is the only one affected, bisected by scars, showing his sharp canines on one side, etching a cruel, absolute smile into his face. It seems all of his injuries concentrate on the left side of his body, his amputated leg too.

"Ran a red light and hit me crossing an intersection. Wrecked my bike", he explains, watching you closely as he speaks. "And my body", he adds, a hint of joking apparent in his tone when you don't say anything.

Your breath hitches, unsure of what to do with the information you just learned. About him. His past. About the Mayberry Butcher's true identiy.

"This isn't funny." It's barely a whisper. You can't think of anything better to say, not even sure what you're referring to at this point anymore.

"No."

"What happened to him?", needing to know for some reason that's utterly beyond you.

"He's been dealt with."

A slow exhale.

"Good."

One single word. One single word that apparently seals your fate tonight. Kain's mismatched eyes widen for a fraction, almost manic as he licks his lips and stares up at you with something akin to... reverance?

"You're not scared?" His question feels loaded. Almost like it's a test. His hands trace abstract paths along your hips.

"I should be", you answer without thinking. Of him and what he's done. Not of his face though. That's not scary.

Your heartbeat is roaring inside your chest, pulse hammering, blood rushing and heating up. Your body is in a state of turmoil. Is this still fear though? This intense sensation running all over you and making your limbs tingle? Or is it something else entirely? It's impossible to tell.

Kain doesn't say anything. It seems you and him both didn't expect tonight to end like this. With you. And on top of him. Two pairs of eyes staring at each other - barely blinking as they try and fail to make sense of the one in front.

His breathing is steady underneath you, deep and strong compared to your own hectic panting. With every passing minute you spend this close to him his heat soaks further into your body. Unfortunately it's extremely pleasant.

Strangely drawn to it, you try to touch his face, outstretched fingers ready to trace the path your eyes already drew along his many scars. Kain grabs your hand before you can reach him, lightning fast... but gentle. His fingers almost seem to tremble as they hold onto yours. But maybe you're just imagining things. They're warm though, really, really warm. You search his face for any hint of anger or disapproval. Instead his eyes betray his sudden vulnerability.

And that catches you entirely off-guard.

"Don't", he says, voice heavy with pleading. "Please don't touch me if you're just gonna pull away after."

Something about the way he says it has your heart aching.

Which is utterly ridiculous. He's killed people. Countless of them! You absolutely shouldn't feel bad for this man. And yet - inexplicably - you do.

Is this Stockholm Syndrome?

"I won't", you assure and holy shit, you're not even lying. You actually want to ease whatever unpleasant emotion he's feeling right now. Maybe you did hit your head earlier. Because whatever you're doing here makes no sense whatsoever. This is far beyond lying in order to save your own skin.

Kain captivates you. You're like a moth to a flame.

"My mom was killed riding her bike", you whisper, sharing a piece of yourself, holding it out to him before that logical part inside of you manages to keep the words down. A somber smile dances along your lips - quiet and coated in painful memories.

"It's good you're still here."

For the first time since meeting him, Kain averts his gaze and breaks eye contact with you. He looks off to the side, where the moonlight penetrates through the broken window frames, eyes distant. His throat clenches, Adam's apple bobbing even though no words leave his mouth.

Looking at him like this is heartbreaking. The energy between you two has shifted into something vulnerable, each one of you quietly reliving the loss of something important.

You draw in a staggering breath, slowly turning your wrist and freeing your hand from Kain's grasp. He lets you go easily this time, fingers slipping off your wrist with one last lingering touch. He's still not looking at you. There's the smallest knit visible between his brows; the only sign on his otherwise blank face that he's deep in thought.

You don't think about what you're doing here. Any of the repercussions. The danger you're quite literally sitting on top of.

And the way his slow touches make you feel...

Careful - as if you were approaching a prey animal and not a deranged six-foot-something psycho killer, you bring your outstretched fingers closer to Kain's face. A few seconds pass without anyone saying anything, your hand hovering, suspended in the tension held between you. Just when the soft pads of your fingers are about to touch his skin, you hold your breath. Kain's chest expands with a deep inhale half a heartbeat later, eyes now fixed on you as he mirrors what you're doing and stops breathing.

You swallow down the last bit of nervous hesitation and then just go for it and touch his cheek, right on top of his warped, burnt scar tissue. Your body start tingling as soon as you finally touch his skin. It's almost cold to the touch and your fingers twitch from the unexpectedness of it.

A hiss rushes over Kain's lips, single intact pupil blowing wide as he watches you with rapt attention, his body growing restless below you, hands holding on to you like a lifeline and squeezing your flesh as if that would help him calm down.

Something below your navel warms, clenches... then it throbs.

"Do they hurt?", you whisper, gaze entirely fixed on that beautifully horrendous left side of his face, how the scars blend into his dark, wavy hair. You follow that visual path with your hand, touch growing bolder.

"Sometimes."

God, his voice is so deep. It sounds so much rougher than before - somehow even more dangerous than when he was hunting you.

For the faintest moment you feel bad. Did your touch hurt him?

You're about to pull your hand away from him when one of Kain's hands suddenly shoots out, laying flat on top of your own and utterly covering it with his own large, calloused palm. A breath rushes out of you and your heart picks an even faster rhythm inside your chest. He presses his face into your hand, eyes dark and stormy as he looks up at you with trouble (or is it hurt?) spelled openly along his broken features.

A beat peasses where none of you utters a single word. Somewhere in the distance the cry of a lone owl breaks the silence. Kain's eyes seem to clear up a fraction.

"You're free to go, pretty bird. I won't hunt you down anymore", he says and you swear he sounds defeated. Even though you did nothing.

What is happening right now..?

He's giving up? Even though right now he could easily flip you over and strangle you.

There it is again, that incessant throbbing deep in your core. Your mouth goes dry and you lick your bottom lip to try to alleviate some of that feeling. But it's not that, you realize you're thirsty, very, very thirsty. But you can't tell for what exactly.

Kain's hand is still pressing yours to his face, seemingly unwilling to let you go even as his words have already paved that exit for you.

Try as you might, you can't get up and off of Kain. Your body feels chained to his and every second you spend looking into his eyes twists more knots into your imaginary restraints. The frantic beating of your heart has lessened, the rhythm now matching the one you feel from below and even your breathing has begun to mirror Kain's deep, calming gulps of air. The two of you are falling into sync without any conscious effort.

There's a single thought growing ever louder within the depths of your corrupted brain - like a pounding headache behind your tempels. That very same pounding you can now feel between your legs and around the pulse points in Kain's neck.

Your gaze drops to his lips as if drawn there. Full, scarred on the left and slightly agape as he meets your eyes. Something shifts and clicks into place inside you. Something that has grown in the shadows, like a quiet murmur that's become too loud to ignore without you even noticing it happening. A feeling - a decision.

Kain speaks first, eyes practically black with predatory hunger as his fingers slowly inch higher on your waist: "You've bewitched me."

His declaration has your legs squeezing tighter around him, pussy throbbing and grinding down against the heavy, firm flesh straining below his belt.

"I'll stay", you affirm, lowering your head until your noses brush against each other, breathing him in, his intoxicating smell, hovering there right above - at the edge of a cliff as you give the universe one last chance to stop this before you commit such an atrocious, irreversible sin.

... Nothing happens.

One last look into Kain's half lidded eyes before you simply give up and close your own - defeated by your own traitorous body.

You murmur against his lips, that last rational part inside you rearing its head: "But I still don't want to be killed."

Then you both lean in as if in a hurry and kiss each other with no sense of preservation, no holding back as your mouths crash into each other and your tongues immediately tangle into a wild mess of spit, teeth and hushed whimpers.

Kain has pushed himself off the floor to meet you, his hands not wasting a second to come back up and reach for you. Large and rough, the left one equally scarred but feeling so good against the heated skin of your stomach.

You kiss him harder, pulling on his hair to bring his mouth closer to yours and sucking on his bottom lip a second later, making him groan and your own heart skip a beat it return. Kain angles his face, a smile carved into his mouth as he now draws your bottom lip between his teeth as payback for the rough tug on his hair.

"Play nice, little sparrow", his words sound strained, a hoarse edge cut into his voice when he pinches his fingers into the soft fat of your hips, eliciting a sharp but nontheless pleasant sting that makes you grin back at him.

You always knew there was something wrong with you.

"Says the guy who almost broke my ribs less than an hour ago", you counter, hand stroking over the burnt side of his face, watching him practically nuzzle your palm before placing a soft kiss there. And then another one on the inside of your wrist.

Your heart skips a beat, breath rushing out of you.

Yeah, I'm defintely going to hell after this.

"I'm sorry about that, baby", he says, softly, though his eyes never lose the dangerous glint present in them. "Really am." He traces a soothing hand over the affected, sore side of your torso. It must have already bruised there, because even this light of a touch stings.

"Seems like Kain the Mayberry Butcher is more tame than the media made him out to be", you tease, voice breaking at the end when one of Kain's hands move up your back, sliding under your shirt and slowly pressing up your spine, as if counting the individual vertebrae there.

"It's Korvin", he says all of a sudden, surprising you. "Call me by my real name. I like that more."

Holy shit, he actually told you his real name. Or at least he says he did. He sure must trust you a lot. Or he's even more insane than you realized before.

Your cheeks grow a little hotter and you're glad that the darkness hides most of your flustered state. It's one thing to make out with a murderer on the floor of an abandoned resort, but it's another thing entirely to turn beet-red when he tells you his name. That's just plain embarassing!

His name rushes past your lips a second later, as if to distract yourself from that sudden flutter in your stomach.

"Yes", Korvin breathes against your lips before you can finish properly weighing his name on your tongue, sitting up fully now and pulling your middle flush against his, hard enough to make you mewl when his cock drags against your sensitive core. "Just like that, Birdie."

You give him your own name even though you secretly like the pet names he calls you. They make you feel special somehow; like it's a secret shared between just the two of you.

"Beautiful."

And then he's on you again, not wasting another breath with useless pleasentries. He kisses you with a hunger so consuming it makes you afraid of never being able to come back from this. It's almost too intense. And he tastes so fucking good. Like vanilla and cherries and sin incarnate.

Because he is.

"Why do you taste so sweet?", you ask, barely able to get the words out before he captures your mouth again and slides his tongue against your own.

Korvin doesn't answer immediately, instead he continues ravaging your mouth like a starved beast intent on stealing every breath right off your lips. When he finally pulls back to catch his breathing, he looks down at you as if drunk, the black of his pulis having eaten up almost all of his silvery eyes. "What?", he asks, delirious and panting.

Holy shit, this man must be utterly touch-starved.

"Nevermind", you quip, suddenly feeling a growing sense of urgency coursing through you. This isn't enough. You need to feel more of him - so, so, so much more.

Practically throwing yourself against his chest, the two of you fall back against the cold and dirty floor, Korvin's massive frame shielding you from any of the impact before you overhwelm him with a kiss so desperate it has him moaning right up into you.

His hands are everywhere at once, squeezing, pulling, searching. You arch into his touch, spine curving, tits pressing against his chest as he unbuckles your belt and pulls the zipper of your pants down to make enough room for himself to plunge both of his hands below the waistband of them, stroking them over the globes of your ass. They don't remain there though. He doesn't waste a single second, left hand pulling your panties to the side, his other one immediately finding your pussy, wet and waiting.

You moan, loud and unkept as soon as his fingers draw a firm line through your slit and - holy fuck - you didn't even realize you were this soaked already.

Judging by Korvin's smirk pressing against your lips, he must think the same thing.

"You should feel ashamed of yourself", he mutters, nipping at your chin and watching your eyes flutter shut as soon as his thumb finds the sensitive bundle of nerves he was looking for. "Being so wet for someone like me."

He's right. He's so fucking right and yet you can't help feeling like this. It's deplorable and you should pull away but the way his thick fingers smear the slick leaking from your hole, bringing it to your clit with one skilled swipe has your head falling forward against his neck, almost panting from how good it feels when he starts circling that spot.

"Stop being a pain in the ass, this is ba-.. bad enough as is", you manage to grit out, voice breaking every time he puts more pressure on your clit. Fuck, even his sweat smells good. Everything about him is intoxicating.

You lean in, pressing your lips right on top of the corded muscle around his carotid artery and swipe your tongue across it, hoping to taste more of his delicious essence. Beneath you, Korvin groans, body growing tense, hips jerking up and into you.

"Can't believe I get to touch you like this." The words rush past his lips, hoarse and unburdened by any restraint.

"More", you insist, hands wandering over his shoulders before splaying on top of his chest. His muscles feel thick and tense, even larger than you already imagined. Fuck, you want to see him naked so badly.

"As much as you want, little sparrow."

Korvin presses a kiss on top of your hair, gentle and in stark, horrible contrast to what his hands are currently doing to you. He rocks you forward with one, forcing you to grind down against his growing erection and uses his other hand to play with your soaked pussy.

It's maddening. His touch feels burning, better than any other man and woman you've ever been with, rough and precise, coated in adrenaline as he lights your nerves on fire every time the pads of his fingers swipe over your sensitive clit.

Pleasure floods your entire being. It's like a violent wave and it's going to pull you under whether you want to or not. Trying to fight it is useless.

God, but you're not even fighting it.

You're rocking on top of Korvin's hip as if he's the love of your life, as if you haven't just met this man, as if his hands weren't coated in the blood of innocents.

A moan falls off your lips and Korvin immediately picks up on it, sticking to the pace he just discovered, keeping the pressure the same. Small, tight circled right on top of your clit that feel just so much better than when you do it with your own two hands.

"Fuck, I want to taste you so bad-", he sounds as if he's barely holding on and something about that just gets you so fucking hot. There's a coil slowly starting to build inside your core, you want nothing more than to cum and satisfy that intense hunger but the mental image of him-

"I want you to", you pant, head raising and spine stretching to reach and lick over the corner of his mouth - the scarred one. "Please, Korvin."

You're barely able to get his name out before he starts manhandling you. His hands pull back, leaving your poor pussy wet and weeping and pulsating as your climbing orgasm slowly ebbs up.

It's fucking cruel.

But it's also so worth it when Korvin's arms suddenly come up around you, lifting you with no trouble whatsoever and bringing you back into a standing position. You fall back against the wall, knees weak and back scratching against the old stones but only having eyes for him right in front of you.

He's kneeling on the floor, frame large and hunched and still so goddamn intimidating that for the faintest part of a second your survival instincts kick back in and lace your body with panic and adrenaline.

But Korvin doesn't want to hurt you - not anymore.

He has other plans. He pulls your pants and underwear down with one rough tough, freeing one of your feet from the clinging fabric before you even know what's happening.

"What are you doing to me", he mutters, eyes glossed over when you catch a glimpse of them. He doesn't waste time. He leans in and peppers your thighs with kisses and sucking bites that feel good enough to make your nails rake against the wall behind.

"Leg up."

You're too dizzy with lust to understand his instructions clearly, so instead of repeating himself, Korvin simply takes your leg in one hand, shocking you with how much of it his fingers manage to engulf, and then he places it on top of his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry eyes while doing so.

Gasping, you look down at him, at that wanted serial killer who's now pressing between your legs, mouth hovering close enough that you can feel his hot breath rush over your sensitive flesh. Shivers creep up your back, but not from feeling cold, no, it feels like you're burning alive.

And because you're a despicable piece of shit, you wind your fingers through Korvin's soft hair, nails scratching against his scalp before you grab him and shove his face against your waiting cunt.

You and him both moan in unison, the sounds so filthy and loud as they echo through the hallways around that you can't help but wonder whether there's still any of the partygoers from before left. You could be caught, this could very well end up with you being-

Korvin drags his tongue square through your clit and then he sucks your clit between his lips.

You gasp and bow forward, brain instantly wiped of all possible consequences. You can only feel. Feel as Korvin groans against your flesh, his hands flexing around your thighs, the way his face only presses harder against you as if possessed you. It feels as if he's succumbed to the urge to devour you; he licks and sucks at you with such abandon you're afraid of not being given enough reprieve to fill your lungs with much needed air. Because while your mouth has long fallen open, countless wordless moans spilling from your throat, you can't for the life of you manage to draw in a single proper breath.

Everything is spinning, your legs are starting to tense, that single leg supporting you starting to cramp and twitch from overexertion.

But Korvin notices none of that, he's busy eating your pussy unlike anyone has ever before. He brings in one of his hands, using his fingers to spread you open and get better access to your most sensitive spots and as soon as he does you can't even tell whether the low moan spilling into the silence around left your mouth or his.

The adrenaline in your body amplifies every sensation, every swipe of his tongue and tug of his lips. It's entirely too much and at the same time not enough. You want to cum, need to - desperately - but you don't want this to end. Not when it feels this good. You don't want this bubble of tension to burst and this thing to end. You want to stay suspended in it and keep riding that wave.

But it gets too much.

"Fuck, Korvin, I-.. I think I'm-",

"Not yet, pretty girl", he mutters, swallowing audibly, the vibrations of his low voice against your clit causing your eyes to roll back in your head before he resumes licking you, much, much slower this time though. "I'm still hungry."

You're about to respond (and it wasn't gonna be nice) when you notice something in the distance. A noise echoing through the hallways, a repeating pattern that's awfully familiar, chewing its way through the thick fog around your brain. Realization hits the same second Korvin shoves two of his fingers into your drooling hole.

Fuck..!

Oh my God, they're so long, he's reaching spots that- No, fuck!

"K-Korvin-", you try to get his attention, tugging at his hair, his clothes, needing to tell him exactly what's going on because surely he hasn't noticed. But then he spreads his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and starting to pump his hand in and out, drawing more wretched sounds from your mouth even as you try to keep your voice down.

You are actually going to die if he keeps this up. The pressure in your core keeps building, you're definitely gonna orgasm from this but it might already be too late then.

So instead of doing what your body's begging you for, you wind your hand through Korvin's thick hair before getting a good grip at the back of his head and twisting it, uncaring whether it hurts him. Then you yank him back - hard.

This time Korvin has to listen, either that or he's losing hair. His mouth parts from your flesh with an audible wet pop and there's a string of saliva? slick? connecting you to his chin. The leg you've been resting on his shoulder slides off and finally you get to stand on your own two feet again.

You look down at him, panting, heart racing, pussy throbbing and achingly empty again. He looks absolutely delicious like this, sitting back on his heels, thick thighs spread wide, pants straining between them and looking up at you with an expression caught somewhere between irritation and feral hunger. Your stomach does a fucking sommersault and when you notice the moisture on his chin glistening in the moonlight and his slightly parted lips it takes everything in you not to lean down and kiss him again.

He reacts faster than you though, he licks his lips, breathing almost as hard as you and tries to lean in again, eyes solely fixed on your dripping cunt.

Again, you hold him back by the hair, growling, releasing your right hand and slapping him square in the face when he tries that shit for a second time.

"Stop!", you hiss, swallowing thickly, pulling his head back roughly so that he has to look you in the eye. You lean in. "I can hear sirens, the cops are coming!"

That seems to clear his mind - if only a little.

Korvin looks up at you, smirking slowly as he tongues his sore cheek from the inside of his mouth. One of his eyebrows raises. "So?"

"Are you for real right now?!", you try to keep your voice down, anxiety mixing with arousal as your eyes keep darting back to his lips as if guided there by an invisible force. This man is impossible. He's insane! You're gonna get caught!

"We need to go, now!", you try again even as you now swipe your thumb over his kiss-swollen bottom lip, collecting what's left of your shared essence.

Korvin's hand shoots up faster than you can react, capturing your wrist mid-air and bringing it back to his face. You watch in horror (yeah right, this is beyond sexy) as he takes your wet thumb between his lips, looks up at you and sucks.

Everything comes to a crashing halt.

You are so, so fucked.

You are starstruck as you watch him; this ginormous, dangerous man kneeling right in front of you, hair a mess, cock hard under his black pants who's apparently so touch-starved that he's currently licking your thumb clean. All while his mismatched eyes never leave your face, that fierce want burning in them making your thighs clench and pussy pulse almost as bad when he was touching you.

"I-", what the fuck are you even supposed to say. It's as if your brain has short-circuited. You've stared into his eyes for too long, looked too long down that abyss of sin. "The cops", you whisper again, voice filled with pleading in one last attempt to.. what? Save him?

Korvin just snorts humorlessly, glaringly unperturbed by the fact that the sirens are getting closer. And then - without warning - he's already moving back in, pushing himself off the floor and against you, bulging arms coming around your trembling thighs and hips before he suddenly lifts you off the floor entirely.

You squeal way too loudly, immediately leaning forward and trying to hold on to him as to not crash to the floor when he now stands up and hauls your full body weight up with him.

He presses your back flush against the wall, up way, way too fucking high. High enough for you to not notice that Kain has put your thighs on his shoulders, caging his head in between them and bringing his mouth back to where he's wanted it the whole time.

As soon as his hot breath hits your soaked flesh, you jolt, a gasp tearing out of you when his tongue finds your clit not even a second later, followed by a sloppy kiss that has your thighs clenching around his head, hands anchoring you on top of his head.

"I'm not leaving here until I've tasted you cumming on my tongue, pretty bird."

You can barely understand him, that's how closely he's pressed against you, but his threat is more than clear. You're not given any time to argue, no chance to plead your case and how insane it is to not run right this instant. Korvin doesn't care about any of that; he just wants you to fall apart - right here, right now, being held up and pressed against the wall by him while he eats you out.

"You're crazy." It's the last thing you manage to get out before your mind goes blank and your mouth falls open with more frenzied, unrestrained moans.

Korvin has you right where he wants to, his hands flex around you, forcing your hips into position so that he gets the best access possible as he now starts to kiss and suck and circle his tongue around your clit.

Your ankles immediately lock behind his back, heels digging between his shoulder blades, urging him closer, body yearning for his touch even when your brain scrambles helplessly for puchase. Korvin just groans against you, rough and wanton, deep and scratchy as if his vocal cords were damaged.

Once again your eyes threaten to roll back, you rock with the movement, head falling back against the tall stone wall, throat long and bruised, desperate to voice your pleasure out loud but fighting it with every rational brain cell remaining. You need to be quiet.

You bite your lip to keep the noises down.

Unfortunately, that's when you notice how fucking loud your pussy is, wet and squelching, even worse now that it's covered in Korvin's spit.

God, you miss his fingers.

The faint memory of them inside you haunts you even as he moves his lips against your clit in the most incredible of ways. It's as if he was made for this, for you and your body.

"Please", you mewl and can't help raking your nails across his scalp. Not that he minds the pain, not at all, instead Korvin merely answers by tightening his grip on you. Tight enough to bruise now, your flesh spilling out between his long fingers, reddened and sore and fucking made for this.

He sticks to his rhythm as soon as he notices the hitch in your breath when he moves to the spot just barely above your clit. It's where his bottom lip presses against your bundle of nerves just oh so perfectly.

Your legs start to tense, muscles beginning to twitch uncontrollably as the coil centered below your navel winds tighter and tighter. There's a thin sheet of sweat now visible on your skin and the light breeze coming in from the countless broken windows quickly pulls shivers from you.

You tremble in Korvin's hold, abdominals flexing and heart racing as you're barrelling towards what you know will be an incredible climax.

There's so much adrenaline in your system, so much anxiety and arousal intermingled and all of it is utterly overwhelming your brain at this moment.

"Don't stop!" You start grinding your hips against him now. He's not gonna let you fall, he's too strong for that.

Korvin doesn't answer you; he probably can't anyway, not with how deep his head's buried between your legs. He must've heard you though, because it feels like his tongue only got more vicious. Somehow he's sucking and licking all at once now. Everything's blending together into one incredible, all-consuming sensation.

You choke on your own spit upon your next moan and it's so pitiful of a sound you actually think you hear (and feel) Korvin laugh right against your cunt before he resumes his savage attack on your clit.

In the distance the police sirens actually don't sound quite that distant anymore. And that's stressing you the fuck out even as you keep mindlessly grinding against Korvin's mouth, seeking more of that friction that keeps bringing you closer to the inevitable edge.

Your climax keeps on building, tightening everything inside you, making your walls clench uselessly around nothing as your juices keep soaking into Korvin's face and he keeps drinking it up and smearing it all across your inner thighs and his chin.

And then, all of a sudden, it's enough, the thread snaps and you convulse and arch on top of his shoulders. A hoarse moan rips from your throat, surely loud enough to be heard all over the resort if it wasn't for you slapping your own hand over your mouth at the last possible second and muffling your scream. Your pussy pulsates wildly, nerve endings fried and overstimulated from Korvin's unrelenting tongue.

He's still licking you! Still massaging your clit with his lips, keeping your orgasm torturously long and groaning every time your body twitches against him.

He's being too loud!

Mindlessly you clench your thighs harder, strangling him between your legs in order to keep him quiet. But it's damn near impossible to control your body, no, not when you're still spasming from your climax, not when all of that pleasure is still all too present in the way you move and breath and exist.

A word akin to his name slips past your lips right as all tension abruptly erupts off of you and you go slack against the wall behind you, your legs hanging limply over Korvin's hunched shoulders.

Your chest rises and falls with hectic breaths, pulse hammering at your neck, whole body still throbbing - sated but utterly exhausted as your brain refuses to reboot.

Luckily for you, Korvin's still in control (or at least seemingly is), even as his body's brimming with hunger and the need to feel you. You can practically feel it vibrating under his skin. It's in the way he inhales you deeply, the flex of his scarred forearms and sharp tic in his jaw - as if he's fighting to not succumb to his desires.

He brings you down from his shoulders carefully, big hands entirely engulfing your waist as he does. You barely notice any of that, too delirious still to realize you're going to have to support yourself again. Your knees almost give in as soon as he sets you down on the floor and lets go of you, everything you're doing happens on autopilot.

"Lift your foot for me, baby."

You do and then you feel him dressing you, peppering your legs with featherlight kisses as he pulls your underwear and pants back up your legs and even buckles your belt for you before he stands back up and casts his shadow over your much smaller frame.

You look up at him, slightly swaying where you stand and all of your limbs feel fucking numb. It's a miracle you're remaining upright after how much that orgasm wrecked your body. When has it ever felt so fucking intense? How did he know exactly where and how to touch you?

Too many questions for how fried your brain is. You're barely able to formulate a single coherent thought. Only thing you know for sure is you feel way too cold without his touch.

Korvin's face is cast in shadows, but you feel his eyes boring into you. Shivers creep up your sweat-slicked back and once again the feeling of standing in front of an apex predator settles deep in your bones.

Is he gonna kill you now?

But Korvin just wipes his chin with his hoodie and steps closer in front of you, sirens wailing in the back, close enough to count the individual number of cars of you listen close enough.

"Now we can go", he rasps, bending down and scooping you up against his chest with one arm.

02:11 a.m.

You two make it out of the resort through one of the many exits in the far back without being caught. It's honestly ridiculous how many times you've stumbled over rubble or tree roots while navigating the dark, but your body still feels out of it - and not to mention your brain.

That has to be the only reasonable explationation. Otherwise why would you be following him right now?!

It makes no fucking sense, this power he has over you. Never let killers bring you to a second location - that's True Crime knowledge 101 and still you're walking behind Korvin, holding his big, warm hand like a dumb, idiot puppy being led to slaughter.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt me", you say behind him, reasonably feeling anxiety swell up inside your chest again.

"I did", he says immediately, stopping dead in his tracks and turning around to you, no mask on his face but the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. "I won't."

Here, outside of the building it's much brighter, bright enough to look in his face and catch the sincere line between his brows.

"But I'm not done yet with you, little sparrow." He takes your chin in his hand, angling it up to face him before capturing your mouth in a searing hot kiss that leaves you breathless all over again. "I need more."

He still tastes like you...

You lean into him automatically, guided by his warmth and the firmness of his muscles as you welcome his kiss. His cock is so fucking hard; it presses against your stomach and you want to reach for it to make him feel as good as he did you, but Korvin steps away from you before you can touch him there.

"Not here", he grits out, grabbing your outstretched hand again. "Follow me."

He leads you to spot at the far edge of the property, never faltering in his steps, never stopping to check whether he's going the right way. And for some godforsaken reason you get calmer the further away from the cops you get.

Talk about idiotic.

Hidden between trees and bushes there's a sports bike. Impossible to spot if you didn't know it was there. All black, its dark exterior practically bleeding into the surrounding environment. While you admire the way the moonlight reflects off of the sharp corners of metal, Korvin takes off his hoodie and holds it out to you.

"Put that on, wind's cold."

There's nothing you'd rather do than take the warm, surely incredible smelling piece of clothing from his outstretched hand, but your brain is entirely too focused on his unclad figure right in front of you and every new inch of skin revealed to your very hungry eyes.

He's wearing a white tank top and it's the sluttiest thing you've ever seen on a man. His shoulders and upper arms bulge out as if he spent all of his free time at the gym, pecs straining against the fabric and- holy shit, are his abs really showing through his shirt?

More arousal, hotter and sharper than before pools low in your stomach, winding its way through your guts and turning everything inside you molten and impatient.

Yeah, no. No chance you're gonna go cold tonight.

Surely aware of your inner turmoil, Korvin shakes his head, clicking his tongue in mock annoyance before stepping back up to you and pulling the sweater over your head himself. This gets you moving, reaching for the item and slipping your arms through the soft sleeves while he helps pulling it down your body.

As soon as your head pops out the top, Korvin looks down at you, admiring his handiwork and the way you free your hair from the nape.

It's way too big on you. It's ridiculous. The sleeves almost reach your fingertips and your whole butt is covered by the length of it. But, fuck, just as anticipated, it smells so good. And his warmth is still lingering in it.

You're an adult, don't be weird, don't smell it. Don't!

"This too", he says while holding out the sleek black helmet he just took off the back of his motorcycle.

Don't blush, it's the least he can do after attacking you with a knife, you tell yourself, trying hard to keep the dumb grin from spreading across your features. You feel like a teenage girl that snuck out to go out on her first date.

And yes, you realize how bad that sounds. You're simply choosing to... concentrate on the good aspects of tonight (and ignore the whole serial killer stuff).

Like the delusional idiot you apparently are.

Korvin helps you put on the motorcycle helmet and just like his hoodie, it's too large, but he makes it fit as best as possible. He smiles the whole time he does it and for some reason that makes your stomach flutter.

More important though just wearing the helmet makes you feel a bit safer, a bit more in control even though realistically you know you aren't. Because the next moment he's swinging his own leg over his bike, the move practiced and way too sexy for some reason. And then he's beckoning you to climb on behind him.

Last chance to run, girl.

You sit behind him before you really know what you're doing, hunched over and wholly unsure of where to put all of your limbs. Even though your mom rode you never did. You were young when she was killed and the trauma of her loss discouraged you enough to never get on a motorcycle yourself.

"Here, put your feet up there", Korvin has turned around in his seat and gestures for you what to do, putting his hand on your thigh to move you into place while he does. He's put on riding gloves and the longer his hands linger on you the faster your heart starts beating.

"Good", he says, voice low and your heart skips another beat.

"One hand around my waist." He maneuvers your right hand in place, looking back to the front as he releases his bike's kickstand and rocks the two of you with the movement of his machine.

"The other one here, on the fuel tank, to brace when I break", he explains.

You follow his instructions even as you feel a bit unsure in all of this; however you can't deny that you do feel strangely secure at the same time - at ease, almost. Especially since he's so patiently explaining everything to you.

Thinking about this only makes your head hurt. You know you shouldn't be here, with him, on the back of his bike, waiting for him to take you God knows where. Rationally you know all of that, but it still doesn't stop you from leaning in and pressing yourself against his big, warm back. Whatever Korvin did to you in that abandoned resort broke something in your brain - because you can't, for the life of you, make the decision to just leave even after he promised he wouldn't hunt you anymore.

Maybe that's just what happens when you have a near death experience like that.

Maybe, who knows.

Who cares.

With the turn of his key the engine roars to life. Loud, loud as it cuts through the night and makes you jump from the suddenness of it. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, fingers twisting at the front of Korvin's tank top. Yeah.. you're definitely feeling abs.

"Hold on tight, Birdie", he says and pats your leg, trying to sound reassuring but you can hear the cocky grin on his lips.

"Don't go too fast!", you plead, pulse hammering in your throat even though right now you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

"Promise", he calls over the loud purring of his engine. Then he shifts into first gear and drives off into the black of night.

03:01 a.m.

Nothing good ever happens after three a.m...

Korvin takes you to a small town house not quite in the city center, but close to it. It seems like a good neighbourhood at first glance, not exactly upscale, but clean and comfortable nonetheless. Definitely nicer than the shitty apartment condo you live in.

Not sure what you expected to begin with, a decrepit looking house in the middle of nowhere? Skulls lined up leading up to his porch? It's none of that. Instead it's entirely... normal?

His lawn is mowed, there's a dark green pickup truck parked in front of the garage and his porch light is on, moths and other insects swarming around it as the house lies silent, waiting for his return.

No one would expect the Mayberry Butcher to live here, a normal citizen hiding among them. That's probably why he hasn't been caught yet, too.

The garage door opens on its own, the gate rolling down behind you again as soon as he's maneuvered and parked his motorcycle inside. Shutting the ignition off and putting down the kickstand, Korvin turns around to you in his seat, black hair messy from the wind and face a bit flushed where the skin still can.

"Ride was okay?", he asks, flicking up the visor of the helmet you're still wearing.

You're a little breathless and need a second to gather yourself. Whether it's from his proximity alone, from the soft crinkle around his eyes when he looks at you or the fact that at the back of your mind you still remember just how dangerous this individual in front of you truly is. It's impossible to know for sure.

But he did keep his promise and drove nicely. He didn't speed once, didn't try to impress you with any risky maneuvers, nothing of the sorts. Instead he said nothing for the whole ride, placed his hands on your thighs whenever he got the chance to and overall just made sure you were safe and comfortable riding with him.

And that's - unfortunately - attractive as hell.

Hold on, are you fucking developing a crush on this guy?

Is the dating pool nowadays really that bad that the first dude who actually treats you nicely (minus the whole 'hunting you down with a knife'-thing, of course) has to be a wanted serial killer?

"It was fine, yeah", you say but your voice comes out all muffled from the padding inside the helmet. Korvin helps you take it off wordlessly, still sitting on his motorcycle. He notices your gaze drifting, looking around his garage, cataloging his things.

"Not what you expected?" He sounds... smug.

"I- yeah, no. Not really."

You get off the bike by yourself, surprisingly steady this time and stand in front of Korvin, watching him do the same. He takes off his riding gloves too and your eyes stay glued to his corded, veiny forearms. Here, in proper lighting, you can see the many healed scars scattered across both of them. His voice prompts you to look back up again though.

"I get it... We did kind of.. start off on the wrong foot, I guess." He at least has the decency to sound embarrassed, because his face certainly betrays none of that emotion. Standing here, dusty lamp illuminating him from behind, he looks every part the imposing, nefarious psycho killer you've met him as.

You give him the blankest no-bullshit death stare you have ever given anyone in your life. Because, what the fuck, he tried to murder you!

"Okay, yeah, I deserved that."

"Can we please stop talking about you wanting to gut me with your hunting knife?" If the question sounds ridiculous, it's because it absolutely is.

Reality suddenly settles in your bones, cold and cruel like a bad wake-up call.

What the fuck are you doing here?!

"I still can't figure out why you're here with me, pretty bird", Korvin says, stepping in front of you and studying every single one of your features as if committing them to memory.

Your breath hitches, but for the first time tonight the rush of anxiety doens't come with it. "That makes two of us", you say, quietly.

A few seconds pass where none of you says anything. It's not necessarily an uncomfortable silence, it just feels heavy - loaded. Saturated with unspoken words and very problematic truths.

To say there's an elephant in the room is the understatement of the century.

"It just felt good when I touched you..", you mutter, almost quiet enough to not be heard. But of course Korvin did. You know he did even as you look off to the side.

His nostrils flare, chest expanding with a deep inhale as he takes a step closer to you and takes your chin between two of his fingers. He makes you look at him and your blood heats as you do. His entire body radiates heat. Heat and surprise at what you just told him.

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

Your eyebrows about raise to your hairline. While this is incredibly hot, it is also incredibly confusing behavior.

"Why are you being so nice to me?", you finally ask the question that's been burning on your tongue for the past two hours. You tilt your head, studying him and crossing your arms in front of your chest as you do. You're still wearing Korvin's sweater hoodie (and you're definitely keeping it).

When he doesn't answer immediately, you raise your voice again: "What happened to trying to kill me? One moment you're holding a knife to my throat and the next you make me wear your clothes so that I don't feel cold. You're so confusing."

It feels good finally saying all this out loud. Because it's been bothering you the entire ride here. None of this makes sense.

But something shifts in Korvin's demeanor as he listens to you speak. It's hard to describe but his aura suddenly seems... darker.

"Ohh, is that what you want, little sparrow?", he asks, voice now having dropped in tone. Rough. Threatening.

Your body's response is immediate, the fine hairs at the back of your neck standing up, mouth going dry as you struggle for an answer and finding none. Korvin leans down, coming eye level with you, his asymetrical pupils once again having taken up that manic glint from before - the one present back at the resort. "You want me to treat you like my prey again?"

Fuck. No. Yes.

Your blood feels like it's boiling, heart racing as need - more violent and vicious than before - pools low in your gut and sets your entire body on fire. Here's that feeling again, that rush of adrenaline, the lick of danger dancing across your skin. You meet his eyes and wet your lips; the way you look at him being all the confirmation he needed to know exactly what kind of woman you are.

What you crave for.

Within the blink of an eye, Korvin has you thrown over his shoulder. Your head hangs uselessly off his back, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened, realizing what's going on just as he sends a vicious slap straight down on your ass.

You yelp, pain arching your spine like a bow even as you can barely move being compromised like this. "Fucker!", you hiss under your breath, but Korvin just chuckles, glaringly uncaring for your comfort now.

"Here I am, trying to act like a nice guy because I've finally found a girl that seems to match my freak", he starts, turning around to walk out of his garage. He kicks the door to his house open, stepping into the darkness of what must be a hallway and rocking you with every step as he carries you with him. His fingers flex against your flesh, almost as if to make sure you're never slipping from his grasp. "Only to find out she's even worse than me!"

Your eyes widen as you listen to him rant. This is your fault. You set him off because you just had to run your mouth again.

He keeps walking, giving you no time to take in your surroundings. Another door being kicked open. The noise is so loud it makes you flinch. From what little you see you can tell this must be his bedroom.

Then his hands are back on your waist, grabbing you and setting you down right in front of him. His face looks fucking manic. Your stomach knots as soon as you see it, heartbeat picking up pace, almost beating out of your chest. Korvin licks his lips. Your thighs clench.

Your panties are fucking soaked.

Korvin grabs your face, squeezing, leaning in close enough to breathe you in.

"No, you want the bad guy, huh? Crazy bitch."

You do. You are.

Fingers twitching with the urge to touch him, you finally throw all your reservations out the window. You want this. You want him. This man who's done terrible, unspeakable things to the members of your community.

And you couldn't give less of a shit.

Korvin watches you with rapt attention, eyes practically glowing with ruthless, unveiled hunger. He definitely knows what you're thinking. He's reading you like an open book.

"Strip."

Your body reacts as if God himself just stepped down from Heaven and commanded you to, because your hands immediately reach for the hem of his your hoodie before practically tearing the item over your head and throwing it to the floor next to you. Shoes already gone, your top and bra quickly follow suit and when you reach for your belt after that you finally hear Korvin's breath hitch. You stall and look at him.

He's standing leaned against the door, one hand pulling at his own hair and the other pressing down on his straining erection still hidden in his pants. Combat boots already kicked off. He looks as if he's barely holding it together, as if intoxicated by the mere sight of you.

"God, how did a piece of shit like me even deserve this?", he mutters, biting his lip and clearly speaking to himself.

He sounds pleased. So, so fucking pleased that you actually have to fight down the urge to hit him for being so cocky. But you're afraid of what might happen if you try anything funny. And you don't want this dynamic to shift again; not when your pussy's throbbing and so wet that you can't wait to feel his calloused touch on your skin again.

"You're perfect for me."

You almost didn't hear him say it, too low, too rough. A shaky exhale rushes past your lips, one last staggering breath before you bend down and take off your pants and underwear in one fluid move. Your socks don't last much longer.

Taking off your underwear you really can't hide anymore just how wet you truly are. It's everywhere, sticking to your sensitive flesh and running down your inner thighs. Korvin immediately notices, eyes almost black as they zero in on the apex between your thighs.

"Guess I was right about you", he taunts.

"You too", you order and you try to sound confident as you do. Standing stark naked in front of him doesn't really feel like the upper hand though. But every fiber of your being wants to finally see what more he's got hidden under his clothes.

Korvin lifts a single eyebrow, amused as he tilts his head to the side and traces his eyes over your flushed figure. He doesn't move a muscle.

"Take off your clothes, Korvin", you try again, with more intent.

"Bossy", he grins, tonguing the corner of his mouth. He starts taking off his white tank top, revealing countless panes of muscles and burnt scar tissue that seems to be worst on his left side. "I like that", he adds.

You say nothing and just watch him. He's fucking remarkable. Broad back and arms that look the part, taut abdominals that seem to go on forever. And that delicious, delicious V-line as it disappears into the low waistband of his pants. He's scarred all over, scratches, burns, so many unique marks it's impossible to count them all. And still, you find yourself studying him with the desire to cartograph them all, to make a map of him and his body, to what happened to him before he met you.

There's also the bloody cut across his collar bones from when you slashed him with your blade. He did deserve it, at the time, so you're not start feeling guilty about that now.

When Korvin undoes his belt and suddenly stops with just his fly undone, you look back up at him, a questioning look in your eyes.

"Can't really take these off with your knife still sticking out of my leg now, can I?"

Your eyes immediately dart to his legs, face flushing red hot as you now too notice your butterfly buried in his prosthetic leg. Only with his pants down like this you can't even tell it's a prosthetic; it just looks incredibly uncanny.

Before you can say anything, he bends down and pulls the blade out with a rough tug. The material squeaks loudly, but other than that nothing happens.

"I'm sorry", you say for some reason, watching him place the knife on the dresser next to him. Korvin shrugs, hands back on his pants.

"What for? I came at you with a knife first."

The memory pulls gooseflesh from your skin, harsh breath rushing over your lips at his admission. The bruises he left on you earlier are still getting darker, blooming on your skin like fucked-up flowers coming to life under his touch. However, instead of pain the only sensation coursing through you right now is searing hot arousal. Nevermind the bruised ribs and your scratched up back. You always knew you liked it rough, you've just never really taken it this far.

Korvin's voice prompts you to look up again, his hands stopping mid-thigh when he’s pushing down his black cargo pants.

"It's... not pretty to look at", he says, a warning carried along in his tone. Maybe a faint hint of vulnerability hidden below the surface as well.

"I've seen pictures of the crime scenes you've left behind. I can definitely handle your leg", you answer without hesitation, dead-pan, meaning every word of it and for the faintest second maybe even feeling a sliver of guilt at the fact you're standing here with him - chatting - when others very much weren't so lucky.

If he feels relief at your words he doesn't show it; he simply shoves his pants down the rest of the way and then steps out of them.

It's not the first time you've seen a below the knee amputation, but it's the first time you've seen an entirely black prosthetic leg like this. It looks expensive. And well designed. Bespoke. Sleek black metal and carbon, some sort of geometric pattern carved in its surface. But there's a small imperfect hole where your knife struck him.

Okay now you do feel bad. A little.

"Does it still... work?", you ask, searching for the right words. And apparently the one you chose must've been funny, because Korvin tries (and fails) to suppress a small chuckle.

"It does. Don't worry, dove."

The nickname has you blushing against your will once again. "Okay, then can you please touch me already? I'm getting impatient over here."

You watch it happen this time - the switch. The way his mercury eyes gloss over and darken dangerously, even the change in his posture and the tension which now seems to pull at all of his muscles. He almost looks like an entirely different person - an apex predator set on devouring you.

That's the man who held you up by the throat back at the abandoned resort - Kain the Mayberry Butcher.

"Stop wasting time", you jab a second time, bracing yourself because you know he'll be on you within the blink of an eye.

And he is.

Korvin crosses the distance between you with two large steps - very unfortunately still clad in his black boxer briefs, but that thought quickly flees you too as soon as you feel his hands back on your body. Rough and hot and hard enough to maybe even bruise you some more.

He kisses you and spins the two of you around, sitting down on the edge of his bed and taking you with him, manhandling you so that you straddle his hips. He's so warm. You moan into his mouth, moving your tongue against his and roaming your hands over every inch of his skin that you can reach. And there's a lot. He's so fucking massive. Hard, bulging muscles greetingyou regardless of where you touch him.

And he wants you.

It's evident in the way he touches you, in the urgency thrumming below his skin. All of that unshed energy - like lightning getting ready to strike.

And you're the one with a target branded into your back, awaiting impact.

You feel yourself grow even wetter, grinding down against Korvin as a means to alleviate some of that increasingly aching pressure in your core. His cock's straining against his briefs, you see it, you feel it, and you honestly can't comprehend how he's still not absolutely mad from how long he's been edging himself tonight. He's been hard since you first ran into him in the hallways at the resort.

A breath spirals out of your lungs, tasting of impatience and an undeniable hunger for this man. You and him aren't so different.

But you need more. And you need it now.

You move your hands over his shoulders with heavier purpose this time, tracing the dips and valleys etched into his chest and the scars that come along with them. The fresh wound you left on him like a mark. Down, down until you feel the soft hairs of his happy trail tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers, drawing a path down further into his underwear. His hips jerk up as soon as you get close to his waistband and he can't help but grunt into your mouth.

"Impatient little thing", he growls, nipping at your chin and pinching your hips simultaneously. His tone lacks any real bite though. He definitely enjoys this.

"Shut up", you snap back and maybe it's a bit too harsh, but you're absolutely done with his cocky attitude right now. You want to fuck, you need to feel him inside you and if he stalls any longer you are actually going to go insane.

Korvin's chest moves with his suppressed laughter, clearly amused by your attitude. That's the only thing he does though; he doesn't make a move to stop you or draw this out any longer. You dip your hand below his waistband before he can change his mind.

He's just about to open his mouth again - surely to say something to piss you off - when you wrap your fingers around his erection and make him choke on his own words. He's already leaking. You squeeze him, a bit harder than neccessary but judging by the way a whimper practically tears out of him he must've enjoyed it regardless.

"That wasn't nice", he hisses, his hips moving up to thrust into your hand just once, to feel more of that delicious friction you provide.

Your mouth drops open as soon as you feel his flesh move and throb against your delicate palm. He's so fucking hard, you haven't touched him once and yet he feels ready to burst already. Not to mention that he feels thick... way too thick, actually.

"Just some payback, I'm sorry, Korvin", you say and actually mean it - well, some of it. Instead of waiting for his response you lean up and lick into his mouth, capturing him in another kiss and pumping your hand up and down his cock as soon as he starts massaging his tongue against yours. "I'll make it up to you, promise."

His tip starts leaking as soon as your words reach his ears, making it easier for you to slide your hand along his veiny length and sensitive glans, trying to find all of the spots that make him weak.

"That's my line." His tone is rough and cut off, punctuated by another shaky thrust up into your hand. His whole body's grown more tense and it's clear from the way his breathing has changed that whatever you're doing to him is working.

Against your better judgement, Korvin grows even harder against you, touching him like this damn near burns you, that's how hot he feels rutting into your hand. It's making you dizzy, so much so that you have to pull away and break the kiss, the urge to watch and memorize far too insistent for you to ignore.

You experiment with different pressures and paces, speeding up for two, three, four strokes, until his breathing turns labored against your temble, until you can almost taste his low hums of pleasure fanning over your face. Then you slow your movements, focusing on texture, slickness, the many veins leading up to his tip. He's sensitive there, so, so sensitive.

"Fuck", he swears under his breath and the way one of his hands slides up your spine and twists into the hair at the back of your head has your mind heading straight into the gutter.

His stomach flexes against you, the creases between his abdominals deepening every time you stroke your hand down and exert pressure around the base of his cock. The way his fingers dig into your flesh make you think he might be leaving crimson crescents etched into your skin.

Yes. You want it to scar, to carry his mark with you forever from now on.

The blood in your veins thrums, hot enough to burn you from the inside, to turn your entire body into one molten mess of unanswered desires.

And Korvin is the only one who can help you with that.

Mouth watering, you tear your eyes away from the brief glances you catch of his cock behind his briefs. Looking him in the eyes you search them for any signs of a sound mind being present.

You find none.

And surely, to him, you look just the same.

No words are spoken because none are needed, everything between you is passed in shared breaths. One decision, one devouring hunger that's consuming the both of you like a wildfire. As if belonging to one being, three intact pupils blow wide and manic as once as the tension around you comes to a bursting apex. One that's so intense it overwhelms all of your senses in an instant.

Korvin throws you off of him and brands you with a kiss simultaneously. Your back crashes against the mattress and you're not even given the time to bounce off the soft material before Korvin's heavy frame presses back down against you and robs you of the ability to breathe. And think. You bow into him as if pulled in by a black hole, your stomachs slanting against each other and hands and tongues intertwining.

"Finally", he grunts against your mouth and rubs his straining erection against you, making you whimper when his tip - still hidden behind his briefs - presses between your legs. "I can't wait any longer."

"No one asked you to wait", you fire back without missing a beat, admittedly slightly annoyed by how long he's made you last without feeling him stretch you out. You're so wet you're sure it's leaked down onto the covers already and Korvin's still wearing his fucking underwear.

"Gotta savor you first", he merely replies, peppering your lips and chin and cheeks with hungry kisses as he writhes against you. One of his big hands angles your face every which way he pleases, the other has dug under your ass, lifting you up in order to press you harder against his middle.

The way he mandhandles you is so fucking hot. The size difference alone is the stuff of wet dreams but really feeling his weight on top of you like this is another thing entirely. Your pussy throbs, walls clenching - achingly empty, begging, begging to feel him inside you already.

There's only so much edging a woman like you can take. Time is definitely up.

While you're trying not to drown from Korvin's kisses, even laughing a little with how savagely he attacks and cradles your face, you use your own two hands to reach for his boxer briefs and pull them down his hips with a quick, unceremonious tug.

He picks up on what you're doing - thank God he does. Without breaking the kiss, Korvin helps you shove his underwear down the remainder of the way before he throws it somewhere. You feel his cock spring free, hot, pulsing flesh dropping against your stomach with an audible wet slap.

It's heavy...

It'll feel so fucking good inside, you're sure of it. There's absolutely no way he won't have you clinging to the edge of your sanity. Already you're clawing at the mattress below.

You pull away from Korvin's mouth and look down the valley between your bodies. There isn't a lot of light in his bedroom but definitely enough to see how pebbled your nipples are, rubbing against his scarred chest... and his cock further down, nestled against the dip of your stomach, twitching and flushed and as touch-starved looking as you are feeling. His slit oozes precum and your mouth fucking waters watching the clear liquid drop and smear against your skin.

Korvin drops his forehead against yours and his breath fans over your face with each labored rise and fall of his chest. A beat of silence passes where your hearts seemingly beat in unison. Before you get the chance to think about how in tune the two of you are, he levels you with a look that's both intensely disarming and vulnerable at once. So much so you instinctively hold your breath.

"Are you okay with me taking off my leg?", he asks quietly, holding your gaze with these two beautifully mismatched eyes of his.

If you looked closely, really looked at him and behind that rough exterior he wears like armor, even behind the glaring knowledge you carry - knowledge of what he's done - there's a profound sense of hurt etched into him. Not just his injuries, you're referring to those invisible scars. The ones he's - for some inexplicable reason - revealing to you.

You smile at him reassuringly and move some of his messy dark hair out of his face with a soft touch. "I don't mind at all, Korvin."

That's all he needed to hear, apparently. Korvin steals one last kiss from your swollen lips before he leans back up, leaving you in awe of all of his rippling muscles as they shift under his skin. He makes quick work of his prosthetic leg, fingers following a routine they must've done a thousand times by now. After unhooking the black carbon and rolling down the protective sleeve that's around his remaining leg, he places both items down next to the bed where they won't get in the way of... things.

You're trying not to stare at him or make him uncomfortable, but at the same time it's really interesting to watch him move about, to read the silent story all of his scars and the raw skin at the bottom of his limb tells. That motorcycle accident must've been absolutely brutal.

"It's weird, huh?", he says when he looks back up at you.

"No, not...really", you answer thruthfully as you push yourself up on your elbows. "It's just not something I've seen before."

"Yeah, I know. I get a lot of weird looks in the summer." Korvin shrugs as if it doesn't bother him. And you do buy it.

"Doesn't scare away any of the ladies though", and he actually winks at you as he says it. "Evidently."

You can't help but groan, kicking him playfully in the side even as your eyes can barely look away from his bobbing erection. "That was horrendous, never do that again."

A boyish grin pulls at his scarred lips. "Let me make it up to you, babe."

His voice has dropped to a mere deep rumble, a tone that immediately makes your breath hitch and all playful humor leave the room.

He scooches back up the bed, kicking your legs open with his healthy knee as he crawls over you and casts a big shadow over your flushed frame.

"I-"

"Nope, no more talking", he interrupts you with a bruising kiss, slanting his body over yours and reaching down between you without even looking. He knows your body well enough by now. Two of his fingers immediately pushing into your pussy, deep and ruthlessly until you feel his knuckles press flush against your clit.

"You begged me for it, remember?", he grunts, rubbing his cock against your pubic mound as he speaks. "For me to finally touch you, to fuck you senselessly."

"I didn't mention 'senselessly'", you argue, gasping and welcoming his tongue into your mouth and spreading your legs wider for him, clinging to him with every possible part of your body. Your spine curves, unable to arch off the bed with Kovin's weight pressing down on you and keeping you flush against the mattress.

He ignores you, surely swept up in the same rush of heat, endorphins and lust that you yourself are dealing with right now. A current starting low in your belly, flowing through all limbs and colliding with the uncontainable hunger Korvin keeps devouring you with.

All your senses are filled with him. Your sight. Touch. Smell. Taste.

It's all Korvin.

And yet it's still not enough. Not when his cock's still not buried balls-deep inside you.

You bring both your hands up, trying to push them between your hips, searching for that hot, hard, velvety skin, desperate to guide him in since he's taking too fucking long! But, once again, Korvin thwarts all your plans with little to no strength at all. He catches both your hands without much trouble and without ever stopping kissing you. One rough tug and they're pinned above your head, elongating your torso and expanding your lungs with a sharp inhale.

"Behave", he chastises, nipping at your bottom lip to make his point. "Are you really so far gone already you even forgot about using a condom?", he asks, mouth still lingering close to yours, stealing your breath each time you take one.

"Want me to fuck you raw? Treat you like the dirty, little whore you are?"

Something inside your stomach knots as you hear this, not uncomfortably, no, this sensation is quite the opposite. The taste of danger sets your nerves on fire, making you arch and clench and lick over Korvin's scarred mouth.

"After all this, do you really think I'd draw the line at unprotected sex, Korvin?", you ask, looking up at him - probably a little bit manic yourself.

"Fuck me like you mean it."

Korvin's change in attitue is instantaneous; he captures your lips in a maddening, savage kiss. The hand he's not using to restrain your arms - moments ago still scissoring open your insides - leaves your cunt with a wet squelch. And then he's grabbing his cock and guiding the blunt head down without another word, until it catches on your entrance and simultaneously spikes your core temperature into something almost molten.

Something hot enough to consume you then and there.

Yes.

You break the kiss instinctively, unable to fight the uncontrollable urge to look at him, to watch his pupil dilate as he finally, finally pushes in.

Korvin's cock enters you slowly but rudely persistent. He cants his hips forward, shoving inch after inch into you, watching you with rapt attention as his impossible girth stretches you out to a point of almost unbearable. Under him, your muscles tense and realx repeatedly, pulsing with the need to move, to swallow, to chase friction. He keeps you there, hovering on that one extended thrust, torturous pace driving you mad as your mouth slowly falls open.

Your brows furrow, a whimper vibrating in your chest as your arms start to jerk when you try to reach for Korvin, silently begging to cling to him for support. His large hand moves up from your wrists, intertwining his fingers with yours just as he bottoms out inside you and presses his pelvis flush against your clit.

A long-winded moan rushes out of his mouth with a strong exhale and you feel his cock twitch - fucking buried in your core. Deeper than should be possible.

He's incredibly thick. And heavy and hot as he rests nestled right up against your cervix.

"You're exceptional." Korvin groans, damp forehead settled against yours as he fights to keep his composure. "Letting me fuck you like this... me. Fuck-"

"You're so big", you gasp, unable to say anything else besides state the obvious. He's stretching you out so much - much more than you ever thought you'd be able to take and yet it worked without much trouble. And no surprise there, seeing as you're hornier than any other time in your life you can remember. Korvin edged you so much, feeling him now is like finally coming home.

"You can take it", he says, voice hoarse as he tongues the corner of his mouth, smirking before letting go of your hands and straightening up to get a better look at you. "You have to."

He looks so fucking big like this, between your spread thighs, hovering above you, chest rising and falling with each labored breath, ridged stomach and all of these beautiful scars etched into him.

"I'll take it", you say, aware it sounds like a promise even to your own ears.

"All of me."

"All of you", you affirm, unsure whether you're only talking about his cock buried inside you or something else entirely. You decide then and there you don't care either way.

Having heard what he desperately needed verbalized, Korvin starts moving, eyes still laser-focused on your face and the emotion openly displayed for him there. He pulls back his hips, his cock slipping out of you, now glistening and covered in your slick juices as your eyes can't help but flutter shut from the incredible feel of it. You don't see it, but Korvin's gaze lowers to where the two of you are joined, eyes hungry and mouth panting as he pulls out almost all the way and then shoves himself back in with a single forceful thrust.

He watches your pussy stretch around him and swallow him up to the hilt. One of his hands coming up to press against your lower abdomen, making you squirm from the added pressure.

Your body can barely comprehend this intense feeling. There's so fucking much of him and it draws out the filthiest noises when he now starts repeating the motion and fills you to the brim every time he pushes his hips forward.

Fuck, yes!

Your hands fly out to try and reach out for something to grab on, something that keeps you from sliding up the mattress every time Korvin thrusts into you with so much fervor. It feels as if he's losing himself in your body - and you love every goddamn second of it.

His cock is deliciously veiny, and so hard there's a loud squelching noise every time he pushes into you. He keeps a steady pace, not just hammering away mindlessly but actively dragging against all of your deepest parts, searching for the spots where you're most sensitive.

"Having trouble, little sparrow?" He sounds cocky, so cocky in fact it's almost pissing you off - almost.

You can't concentrate on coming up with a snarky response because every time Korvin thrusts into your pussy and inadvertedly melds you to his shape, your mind blanks and your mouth falls open on a moan.

"No", you gasp, insides clenching. "S'good."

"I'll make it better."

Korvin slows his hips to an almost stop, unfurling to his full, impressive height before grabbing your left leg and maneuvering it up so that it lies flat against his torso, with your foot resting on top of his beefy shoulder. Then he thrusts back in, leaning a bit over you as he does and bringing you a stretch so incredible it almost makes you go cross-eyed.

"Holy shit", you moan, hand flying to your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep these pitiful sounds in.

But instead of pleasure being at the forefront of your thoughts, a sudden pain now rocks your body and momentarily pulls you out of your haze. You look up, eyes half-lidded and search for the source of the stinging.

Korvin pins you with a dangerous glint in his mismatched eyes, licking over and soothing the spot on your delicate ankle that he just bit into. "I want to hear you, put that hand away."

You do - immediately. Something in his tone just makes you obey before you can even consciously think about it. Just looking at the way his hand damn near engulfs your calf makes your insides clench hungrily.

"Good girl", he says and then he kisses your ankle on the exact spot where your skin is still raw and red from his bite.

Your heartbeat picks up and you instinctively spread your legs a little wider, wanting to take him in deeper, hoping he can read your body well enough to give you what you're craving without having to spell it out for him.

And he does.

Of course he does. Korvin can read you like an open book at this point. Something warm melts in your chest, picking up your heartbeat as your pulse races in your ears.

"Don't worry, I got you", he assures, his eyes never leaving you, he drinks you up like this. As if he could never get enough of you.

You aren't much different, tracing visual lines over the countless marks carved and burned into his skin like a story just waiting to be told.

Korvin doesn't waste any more time; his stomach tenses and then he's back to fucking his fat cock into you, rolling his hips with every stroke, captivating you with the shifting muscles of his abdominals moving under his skin.

Your pussy immediately starts clenching, pulling him in deeper, stretching you out more, rubbing against that swollen, spongy spot that makes you see stars every time he thrusts into you. You're not gonna last like this. Not when he keeps hammering that sensitive part right in front of your cervix. Breath hitching, skin growing increasingly damp, you reach for Korvin's veiny forearm, feeling the tense muscles there as he now not only puts pressure on your abdomen but also extends his thumb until-

Fuck. Holy shit, that's fucking incredible.

You gasp his name and dig your fingers into his arm, looking for support, probably tearing his skin with your nails.

Korvin starts drawing ruthless circles on top of your clit, even leaning in and spitting down on it to make his finger glide easier over your sensitive bundle of nerves. It's fucking brutal. He speeds up his hips, driving his cock into your cunt with so much abandon part of you is afraid you're never gonna come back from this - forever molded to his shape.

His perfect toy.

Your insides immediately start clenching. The tension swirling below your navel concentrating and turning the muscles in your thighs stiff and rigid. You're gonna cum like this; he's absolutely gonna make you climax if he-

Your moans turn louder, breathing increasingly ragged and Korvin too seems like he's chasing after the same ecstatic drop, his cock feeling ready to burst as he fucks it into your sopping cunt. Your vision blurs and nevertheless your eyes latch onto his, desperate to look at him and see him fall apart on top of you - to feel him do it inside you.

"P-please", you beg, your toes already starting to curl. "Faster. Don't stop."

"I'd sooner crash and burn a second time", he hisses, the stimulation on your clit turning vicious as he picks up pace even more.

You choke on air and your own saliva, unable to do anything besides take it and brace for the inevitable as your muscles continue to tense and the leg you have pressed against Korvin's chest starts twitching.

"You're already right there, aren't you, dove?", Korvin asks, grunting, not once breaking the rhythm he fucks you with. Strong, unrelenting thrusts right against your most sensitive spot. He licks over your calf, his next words sending cool air against your dampened skin and pulling shivers from it. "I can feel it."

A moan that sounds an awful lot like his name rushes out of you. Your mouth falls open, eyes unfocused but nevertheless searching for him as the coil in your lower stomach grows increasingly tighter and crueler. It pulls your back into a pretty arch, hands flying out and grabbing into the bedsheets below. With your head spiraling, you try to swallow down some much needed air, but right before you're able to, the thread suddenly snaps and your orgasm hits your body with its full, brutal force.

You jerk on top of the bed as if struck by lightning, legs twitching and trying to press shut if it wasn't for Korvin keeping you open and stretched and fucking you through the intense tremors wrecking your body. You're so out of it you can't tell whether you're moaning or panting or gasping his name; it all bleeds into one fucking incredible sensation that has your entire body spasming and your pussy clenching wildly around Korvin's fat cock that's still drilling into you.

He's relentless, uncaring for your wailed gasps every time his thumb runs over your overstimulated clit and his cock stretches out your twitching walls. Thrust after thrust after thrust.

It's both torture and bliss and it sends so many shockwaves hissing through your brain you can't formulate a single thought.

But you don't need to.

Korvin knows exactly what you want - what you need. From him.

"You're so fucking good", he groans, grabbing you tighter and angling his hips up slightly to really drag his cock against that pulsing, spongy spot inside of you.

You writhe under him, twitching and throbbing and feeling so utterly full and wet like you never have before. Swallowing, you try to get your breathing under control, even as your abdominal muscles till convulse from time to time. This orgasm was fucking brutal, and the rush of it still hasn't entirely evacuated your body. Coming down from it feels like a fucking fight.

Korvin finally slows down his thumb, leaving your poor clit throbbing and raw and overstimulated and you flat on your back and panting for air as you gaze up to him. His sweat-slicked, black hair that's falling into his unique, pretty features, how his scars stretch and move every time he catches you staring and smiles at you. The way all of his muscles work whenever he pushes his cock back into your sopping heat, slowed down but never stopping. There's even an audible squelch every time he does.

It's doing terrible things to your psyche - knowing you fucked this man raw... knowing truly what he is-

Enough.

"Ok, timeout", you call and almost flinch at how rough and abused your voice sounds. "I need a breather."

Korvin stills his movements immediately (which is kinda cute, to be honest, but you're not gonna dwell on that). He lets go of you and puts your leg down slowly, breathing roughly himself and tongueing the corner of his mouth as he watches you push yourself off the mattress, rumpled sheets and all. He looks like he wants to say something there, but he doesn't.

You're staring at where his pelvis is still pressed flush against yours, his cock still heavy and nestled deep; your walls still spasming slightly around him, massaging his length and squeezing around him as if wanting more.

"Do you have some water for me?", you ask, heart pounding at the sight before you even as your body desperately craves something to drink and cool off with. You're too hot to function right now, there's not a single shred of energy left in you; Korvin tore it from you with that mind-shattering climax.

"There's some on the nightstand", he says, his voice even rougher than yours. Like gravel. Adding "to your left" right after.

Nodding, you scooch up the bed and roll onto your stomach, arm reaching for the tall glass of water on his bedside table. As you do, Korvin's cock slips out of you and coming with it is a rush of liquid that makes you shiver and your eyes flutter shut for a brief second.

Luckily for you, with your back turned to him, Korvin didn't see that moment of weakness.

You gulp down the water as soon as the cold glass touches your lips. Fuck, you needed this, your mouth had gone so dry from all that moaning and ragged breathing it was starting to feel unpleasant. He really gave you a run for your money, that was arguably the most intense and best sex you've ever had.

The glass trembles slightly in your hand as you stretch your arm out to put it back. But just as you put it back with a low clink, you remember that Korvin might actually want a sip as well. Pushing yourself up, you move to look back at him over your shoulder. "Do you also wan-"

"You done?" Korvin's voice cuts through the silence of the room and the thick fog still settled inside your head. Immediately tension turns the air around you thick and hot and the fine hairs at the back of your neck pinstraight.

"Yes?" You look at him, questioning in your eyes turning into disbelief as soon as your eyes wander down his front and you find his cock still standing straight against his abs, rock-hard and oozing precum.

You were wrong. He didn't cum when you did.

"Good."

Before you get the chance to say something, his large hand paws at the back of your head, twisting into the strands there and gripping you tight enough to make you wince and gasp, your body growing hot and languid in an instant.

"Because I'm not done with you yet, little sparrow."

Korvin pushes your face down into the mattress, uncaring whether you can breathe like this and slaps your ass hard enough with his other hand you arch like a bowstring under him.

The crumpled bedsheets swallow your pained moan and even as you already feel the bruise forming on your flesh, you lift up your ass again, begging for more. Again, you don't see the slap coming, you only feel the impact when it does, biting your bottom lip hard to swallow down your pitiful voice.

You're a fucking idiot! How did you not realize he didn't finish yet?!

Korvin strokes the reddened flesh of your ass, not really soothing the sting with the rough skin of his palm but you still welcome the feel of it regardless. He settles right above your tailbone, pushing your waist down as one of his knees pushes your legs apart, baring the sticky mess between your thighs to him.

"Silly thing, thinking this was it already. You ready to take some more?", he asks and you feel his hot breath fan against your shoulder where he's leaned down over you, his cock already rubbing between your cheeks and making you leak with the desire to feel him stretch you out again.

Squirming, you try to answer him in this compromised position, though your 'Yes' sounds garbled and choked up even to your own ears.

And Korvin must think the same; you hear him click his tongue behind you, sounding almost annoyed. Then your head gets ripped up with a viciousness that reminds you this man has indeed murdered people before.

Your eyes widen in shock, spine bent unnaturally and mouth agape as you can now watch Korvin in your peripheral vision - he looks savage.

"I'm not convinced. Speak. Up."

Pussy throbbing, blood turning molten, you damn near cum just from hearing him speak to you like this. It's so fucking hot and you don't care how wrong that is.

"Yes!", you gasp and wet your lips, wiggling your ass slightly to show him how much you really mean it. "Yes, I am."

"My good fucking girl."

That was all the warning you get before Korvin guides his fat cock back into your soaked, overused pussy. He slides in with no trouble whatsoever, immediately shoving in all the way in and spearing you to the hilt. You moan from the intense pleasure shooting through your core as soon as his cockhead pushes up against your cervix, eyes fluttering shut and saliva pooling in your mouth from how fucking good it feels.

He hits so deep like this. You can feel him all the way in your guts.

Korvin groans roughly, gyrating his hips slightly to test the new feel of you like this, this new rude angle and all the spots he's pressing against. Slick juice gushes out of you as he does, too much to remain inside when he's stuffing you like this. You feel it run down your hole and dripping off your clit, soaking into the bedsheet below. It's fucking nasty but it makes you clench only that much harder around him.

You're suddenly caught off guard when his tongue slides over your cheek, licking off the tears that had spilled there without you even noticing.

"I'll fuck you for real now", he growls. "Be good for me and take it. Because you were made for this."

Then he lets go of your hair, only briefly though. You're in a chokehold with his forearm pressing against your throat before you know what's happening to you. Breathing strained but possible, Korvin's fucking into you with such a violent precision it would send you into a crumpled pile of limbs on his bed if it wasn't for his ruthless way of holding you in this degrading position - like worthless bitch only made for breeding.

You moan loudly, core trembling and gushing around him as you do what you're told and take it like you were made for it. His very own personal cocksleeve.

He rams into you with so much abandon and savagery, if your brain still functioned you'd think he'd gone mad. But in this equally delirious state you welcome this rough treatment with every filthy cell of your body. Back arching as best as possible, all your muscles strained to the point of it being painful, you swallow him up upon every thrust. You have no room to move like this and yet you still try to angle your hips every time he enters you, clench and squeeze around him right when you feel his thick glans push against your womb.

There's white splotches dancing across your vision, a trail of spit running down your chin that's left from your sputtered gratitude and praise for this man and how well he's fucking you.

"Look at you", he grunts, his cock throbbing inside you. "You're soaking my bed, acting like the filthy whore you are."

You mewl, a dumb smile plastered all over your lips. "M'm yes, I am- for..- just for you, K-Korvin."

His cruel laughter shakes you to the core, eyes crossing from the vibrations it sends through your body with his chest pressed against your back like this.

You're both sweating so much his arm slips away from your throat, up, as your head tips down, the muscles in your neck giving out. You gulp down some much needed oxygen, filling your lungs with it and immediately choking upon your next inhale from how deeply Korvin shoves his cock into you a single thudding heartbeat later.

Instinctively, your teeth clamp down on the tense muscle of the forearm in front of your mouth - and hard. You feel Korvin's flesh give way, your canines puncturing his skin, tongue immediately darting forward to lap up the budding droplets of blood staining your tastebuds.

Behind you, Korvin just moans hoarsely, uncaring for the sharp pain in his arm or the crimson essence he's letting for you. His pace grows even faster, his strokes becoming less precise but definitely not less forceful.

You moan, gagged like that and trembling, the coil in your core building and tightening every time his balls smack against your clit when he fucks his cock into you and stretches you out like this.

"There it is", he drawls, slowing his hips briefly and opting for a deeper angle, letting you feel every torturously thick inch of him.

"Needy slut. You're already cumming again, aren't you?"

Yes. Absolutely you are.

And this time you want to feel him, too.

"I want it", you gasp against his bloody forearm, smearing spit and blood on your lips, words messy but loud enough for him to hear. "Please Korvin, I need you."

His hips stutter out of rhythm momentarily before resuming twice as rough as before - fucking you as if he hated you.

"Need what, huh? Use your words, dove."

But your brain has long seized all logical function. You can only react to what he's giving you, to that intense pleasure that wrecks all of your nerves and muscles and voice alike. "I want you. Your cum."

Korvin seemingly grows even thicker inside you, turning your cunt into a twitching mess and your clit pulsing desperately with the need for more friction. Your eyes slowly roll into the back of your head, pussy growing even slicker.

"Let me hear that again", he orders, his deep voice threatening to spill over into a moan. "How bad you want it."

"Give it to me", you practically whine, barely registering his request and instead squeezing your walls hard enough as if never wanting him somewhere that isn't ballsdeep inside your guts. "Don't pull out. Please."

"Fuck", his voice breaks first. Then his composure right after. Korvin jerks on top of you, straightening back up and grabbing your hips with such unrestrained strength for a second you think he's gonna crush your bones.

The added pressure has your ass lifting and back arching even more brutally - the picture of wet, needy obedience for him - and he uses all of that added leverage to fuck into you with so much force you momentarily forget how to breathe.

Pussy gushing and nails clawing across the mattress, your head falls forward and you bite into sheets below and just fucking take it. You can't do anything else. He moves you back and forth however he pleases, fast and hard and rough. And he punctuates every thrust with a filthy moan that clings to your skin like morning dew.

Korvin's cock feels hard enough to burst, bullying your insides open, making you drip for him and turning your body into his own tense, messy playing ground. The pressure in your core keeps rising, hamstrings starting to cramp from how hard you're bracing every time he rubs against your clit.

It's building. It's building and it's gonna fucking kill you.

"F-Fuck, Korvin, please-" Your toes curl, mouth drooling and eyes closed to feel every.single.delicious.thrust.

His hands dig even deeper into your hips, your flesh spilling out around his fingers, red and bruised and incredibly soft. Your body starts seizing, tensing around his length that's still pummeling your insides, bringing you - forcing you - closer and closer towards that harrowing edge.

Before you manage to get out another plea, however, Korvin shatters first. He slams into you so deeply all air rushes out of you, cockhead buried against your cervix and walls stretched to the max. You feel him grow thick and impossibly hard, throbbing, twitching as he groans loud and feral and guttural.

A hot rush of liquid hits your womb and Korvin doesn't hesitate to fuck his orgasm into you even as he's still cumming inside you, to really make you feel it with every cell in your core - to utterly mark you as his.

The feeling of him spilling inside you, his entire body jerking on top of you, it's all it takes for you to fall over the edge yourself. The thread snaps and your climax barrels out of you with a long-winded shriek. Walls fluttering wildly, you gush around Korvin's cock and milk him throughout his very own orgasm.

Both of you moaning and writhing against each other, bodies rocked by violent tremors as you continue to move with him and take all he's giving you.

Every. Last. Drop.

And God - there's so fucking much. You feel him spill out of you even as he's still rocking into your cunt, turning your cries of pleasure into sobs of painful overstimulation.

Your pussy twitches and pulses and the muscles in your body act much the same. It feels like every nerve in your body is raw and on fire. You're still cumming even when Korvin collapses on top of you, burying you under his weight and making your next moan entirely breathless.

"Fuck", he heaves, obviously trying to catch his breath. His heart pounds hard enough you can feel it rattling your back and - admittedly - yours matches his rhythm to a fucking tee.

"I never came this hard in my life, fuck-", he says stopping himself to litter your shoulderblade with kisses. And you still feel him twitching inside you.

You swallow, trying to regain control of your limbs even as all of your muscles feel limp and exhaused. And you're so sweaty too, or, Korvin is. This took everything from you and then some. But, God, the euphoria bubbling in your stomach is undeniable.

An unhinged sort of laugh starts shaking your chest, even as you're getting crushed by Korvin's ginormous stature. He must notice, finally, because he rolls off of you with a tiny wheeze that could be described as something almost cute.

Almost.

He's still a psychopath..

As soon as his cock slips out of you, you feel warm rush of wetness ooze out of you and your eyes damn near fucking cross from how fucking good it feels.

"Yeah", you start, needing a few seconds to remember how to speak, pussy still leaking, "I think, same.."

He's on his back, laying close enough to you that you can still feel the heat radiating off of him in waves. A content sort of comfort settles deeply in your chest, making your eyes flutter shut as you sigh quietly. As soon as you close your eyes however, exhaustion hits you like a fucking tidal wave.

You could - undoubtedly - fall asleep right then and there. Next to a murdering serial killer. But one that has apparently grown very fond of you because he does push the sweaty strands of hair sticking to your forehead out of your face and starts stroking your back in soothing circles right after.

You open your eyes again, slightly caught off guard by his tenderness and catch Korvin inspecting his forearm, some blood still oozing out of the gnarly bitemark you left there. There's a certain glint in his eyes, an emotion you can't really pinpoint. He looks... excstatic, almost?

"Damn, as if I wasn't mangled enough already", he says, eyes glued to his warped, reddened skin.

Instantly, you want to apologize, tell him how sorry you are and that you didn't mean to go so overboard, that you couldn't help yourself. You're about to jump off the bed and look for ointment (where would you even get it?!), when he speaks up again.

"If it doesn't scar over I'll get it tattooed."

Your head whips up. What did he just say?!

Korvin puts down his arm and looks at you as he does, mercury eyes unusually warm. Shivers crawl up your entire body all on their own; but you're feeling the opposite of cold right now. "I'm keeping your mark", he says, matter of factly.

"And you."

Your breath spirals out of your lungs, heart immediately back to pounding at a mile a minute as heat rises up to your cheeks. As soon as his words properly register in your addled brain, your eyes widen from the sheer shock of hearing him say it with such conviction.

Holy shit, he fucking means it! This wanted, insane serial killer who's been terrorizing your hometown for the last few months just declared his infatuation with you.

And you're blushing, blushing hard!

Before you get the chance to respond to his - insane fucking!´- words, before you even get the slightest chance to make up your mind about what he just proclaimed, Korvin places his big palm on your cheek, vanishing all of your logical thoughts by the brush of his finger alone.

"Can I keep you?", he asks, quietly, as if it's a secret shared just between the two of you. And in a way, it is.

You don't have to think about the answer - you can't, can't fight it, can't deny it, even if you tried. It's already a truth nestled so deeply behind your heart that it would probably kill you to even try and deny it - ridiculous and foolish as it may be.

"Yes", you answer, utterly breathless and shell-shocked by your own declaration.

How the fuck did this happen?!

A last remaining, rational shard in your brain rears its head, instantly sobering you on the spot and prompting you to push yourself up on your eyebrows and level Korvin with a fierce stare. "But first, we gotta talk about your occupation!"

"Huh?" He looks at you, wholeheartedly confused, raising an eyebrow as his hand now stills on your back. "I'm a car mechanic?"

"I meant your ‘side hustle’." You put your hands up, making quotation marks, fighting off a grin because this is not funny!

"Oh, yeah. Fair."

Rolling your eyes, you turn around and snuggle up against him; his beefy arms immediately coming up around you and pulling you closer against his body. A smile plays along your lips as you close your eyes and inhale his intoxicating scent.

"You birdbrain." The joke leaves you before you can stop it. God, you're just as stupid and quirky as he is, apparently. A match made in hell.

Whatever, at least you saved the 30 bucks Uber fare back home.

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