( Ā PABLO SCHREIBER, CIS-MALE, HE/HIM Ā ) Ā ā Ā Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, youāll find that RICHARD āSAMSONā CLEMENS is a Ā 42 year old SEX WORKER/PORNSTAR thatās been in Chicago for 22 YEARS. According to the file, theyāre a MUTANT on LEVEL 3 with the power of FERAL FORM (DIRE FOX). That must be why theyāre LOYAL and TEMPERAMENTAL. If you ask me, they remind me of PISS YELLOW EYES, BLOOD POOLING IN THE SHOWER, FRESH MEAT. They are affiliated with KAPPA RUNAWAYS.
UNDER THE CUT:Ā basics / feral form info / currently / timeline
BASICS
FULL NAME: Richard āSamsonā Clemens
D.O.B: 30 November 1980 [ 42 ]
HEIGHT (HUMAN): 6ā²4ā³
HEIGHT (DIRE FOX): 3ā³0
FERAL FORM
In his feral form he becomes a ādire foxā ( fun fact: dire wolves are thought to be linked much more closely to foxes than wolves). I picture him has a fluffier tale than pictured here (because cute!). Samson has two tattoos which, if you were to shave him in wolf form you would see. He also has a slight āmaneā similar to his mohawk.
CURRENTLY:
He escaped with the first set of the Kappa Runaways . At first he stayed in the abandoned warehouse with the others, until he was convinced to go find his sister, Hale, and let her know what happened to him. After a little convincing, he moved in with Hale who had, thankfully, been doing well for herself. He stayed for a few months until she began dating Tiff. Theyāre nice but Samson doesnāt trust humans on principle at this point. Back to work, working a little too hard to give a helping hand to the other Kappa Runaways.
TIMELINE ( DATES SHOULD BE CORRECT)
TW: DUB CON. SEXUAL ASSAULT. MUTANT DISCRIMINATION. PRISON.
1980 [Born] To Sylvie Clemens, a teenage mother. Father an unknown one night stand.
1990 [10] Unable to cope with her feral, shape-shifting mutant son, Sylvie gives up Richard.
1990-97 [10-17] Repeatedly rejected from families, an unpopular child at school, he begins to run away. Heās often found and brought back, but manages to hide away using his shift ability to scrounge for food and survive like a wild animal.
1997 [17] Arrested. After being too starved to maintain his dire fox form, he breaks into a house to spend the night somewhere warm. Misjudging the timing, the family returned home and reacted poorly to a mutant sleeping rough in their home. Things escalated and he was hit with a B&E charge. Spends a few months in juvenile before put into an adult prison a few months before his eighteenth birthday.
1998 [18] Guards take an interest in Samon. He starts sex work to survive prison. ( which means get extra food & privileges such as his own cell).
2004 [22] Finishes his sentence, leaves prison. Begins working on street corners to get by as he looks for stable work. The stable work never arrives, his rap sheet and obviously mutant appearance means he barely gets his foot in the door.
2006 [24] Starts working at a sex club after a client mentions it. Itās safer, even if he takes a bit of a pay cut. Picks the moniker āSamsonā.
2007 [25] Begins working in adult film, trying to move away from working in a club and only for films. Doesnāt work out, itās expensive feeding himself.
2012 [32] Cherry, 18, starts working at the Rosebud. Hale becomes the little sister he never had. Things are good. For a while.
2016 [36] Kidnapped by a client where he is taken to Kappa.
Feels good. Samson wonāt get cocky, yet. The deep hum and Samson continues. Thereās no moment where his hands are off Kaya: theyāre sliding over the fabric of his shirt to undo more buttons, then sliding across his chest, up and over letting the shirt drop off his shoulders before continuing the massage. Samson ducks lower, lips barely brushing his ear, āWant to get on the bed?ā Hands dip lower, past his shoulder blades before back up to continue kneading out the tension in his shoulders, āEasier to reach all of you up here.ā @sexysamson69
Samson takes charge easily, with the confidence of a man who has done this a thousand times before, and Kaya is so grateful just to melt like butter in his hands. This is what he wanted, or needed, and he is quite content simply turning his head this way to allow Sam easier access to his shoulder, or shifting his posture that way to allow another button to come undone. Thereās a shiver down his spine as Samās lips barely brush past his ear, whispering.
And Kaya nods. He very much does want to get on the bed, for Sam to reach more of him. Standing, he allows his shirt to drop from his shoulders into a pool on the floor, and turns to face Sam. āCan I kiss you?ā he asks, eyes dark and soft with vulnerability. It takes a lot to ask for what you want, sometimes, particularly in a more intimate context. Kaya canāt remember where he heard this, but heās fairly sure that some sex workers donāt do kissing. He just wants to be sure of where the boundaries are, hoping for an affirmative. Kaya loves kissing. The intimacy of it, and foreplay. Thatās at least as important as the sex itself.
Kaya's handsome, and clearly looks after himself. His shirt is dropped to the floor. Samson might quickly follow suit with other clients, but the soft look as he turns to face him tells Samson this will need to be a more drawn-out affair. Kaya can undress, presumably with the same gentleness he asks to kiss him.
"Yes," Samson remains seated on the bed, reaching for Kaya's hip to coax him forward. Not everyone asks. It should be the standard, but it isn't, so he's all the more grateful for it. "Tongue, teeth, chaste. I'll follow your lead." He gives blanket permission, looking forward to seeing what sort of man Kaya is.
Buried deep in his throat, Ezra doesnāt even gag. Just wet warmth enveloping him, itās easy to get lost in the feeling. Not that Samson can really let himself indulge fully. He focuses on pushing against Ezraās face so he canāt even get a breath through his nostrils; bracing himself for Ezraās inevitable failure. Itās a small prick.Ā A sharp hiss and sharper pull backwards, he pulls himself out of Ezās throat. Holds the other manās head back at an uncomfortable angle.
āYou were so good till that fuck up...āSamson strokes himself. The tiniest bit of bleeding that he only encourages with a jerk. Samson would consider the downstairs neighbours: but heās certain theyāve heard worse living below Ezra. Kicking his heel into his chest, Ezraās knocked backwards. āBut Iām feeling generous,ā With a sharp, vicious stomp, he puts all his strength into crushing a kneecap. With a grin, he starts walking towards the bedroom, cock still in hand.
Itās not really a reward if thereās no challenge to it. Ezra sucks too much dick to have much of a gag reflex. In a swift, harsh thrust Samson fucks into the back of his throat and stays there. Shallow movements of his hips keeping him in the wet warmth of his throat, stop any attempts to get a breath in. āKeep those fangs coveredāā With one hand flat on the back of his head, he whacks the back of his hand, looking for a harsher gag. Looking for the smallest touch of teeth to berate Ezra about.
āOh, I see.ā Kinevartās instinctive response is that she wonāt need any help. She never wants help. But she thinks Sam wants to help, and it would make him feel better. And the things he suggestsā¦ it does make Kinevart realise just how different this would be, raising a child in the city. Sheād not even thought about money. What could a baby need? They drink breast milk. āI was never among humans, until I was brought to America ten years ago. I lived alone, in a forest, and I raised Lucine alone there too. I suppose I probably will need some help, figuring out how to do this in a human way rather than a unicorn way. Donāt look so worried, Samson.ā she lays a hand gently over the top of his. āThere are still months left to prepare.ā
āItās a big thing,ā Samson begins. Until he frowns, collecting his thoughts as sheās comforting him. Kinevart doesnāt need him, it seems, so he canāt be here making her look after him. āYeah. Yeah! Plenty of time. Weāll figure it out.ā
Itās a frightening thought to know just how theyāre truly strangers about to have a child together. Thatās exactly what his own mother mustāve felt like, only his father had long skipped town. A peaceful live in the forest sounds like something heād want for his child. Which gives him pauseāwhat will their child be? āIs Lucine the same as you? Mutation-wise, I mean.ā
Victor barks out a laugh, and shakes his head. He wanted to turn that guy into a sear mark on the concrete, but thankfully, he didnāt. Manslaughter wasnāt exactly the best course of action, even with a hot head.Ā āWhere you off to, oh savior of mine? Iād like to return the favor somehow, anyway.ā His mind races through the possibilitiesāones that would make a nun wither and die, but he smiles with a halo of light appearing at his back. Just for comedyās sake. āI have some perks. Being a pop star, and all.ā
Return the favor illuminated with a halo Samson can only imagine would be an ironic choice if he could know what Victorās thinking. Heās not subtle about it. And hell, Samson wonāt lie to himself that Victor isnāt attractive. Heās a pop star, after all. Gotta have the looks to go with it. āOn my way home,ā he lies. Sort of. Heās not about to explain the complexities of his living situation. The three places he calls home at this pointā his sisterās, the other escapeesā hideout, Royalās safe haven. āI could make a detour for an angel like yourself, though.ā
āShit, you really want to be good for me, huh, Ez?ā Anyone else, this would continue being a tender moment. He canāt forget what heās paid for, though, and Samson always charges Ezra a little extra. His nails drag across Ezraās scalp: not enough to hurt, he hasnāt got his claws out yet, but itās the beginning. āOpen your fucking mouth.ā
Resting both hands on the back of Ezraās head, now, he waits for him to start. Waits for Ezra to find a rhythm that Samson plans on derailing with hard tugs and thrusts. āKeep being a good boy and youāll be struggling to crawl to the bed, baby.ā
Uh huh, how droll, the wet jokes. Thereās something Romyās never heard before. Alright, if a woman makes the joke sheās very liable to go for it; she just has a lot less patience for men, even when sheās the one that started it. Itās hard to play it right, because she doesnāt want to act suspiciously overeager, but she is suspiciously overeager. All she wants is to drag Samson out of here, drag him under the waterās surface and hold him while the fight leaves his body.
Sometimes this game is fun, sometimes it just stokes her impatience. Tonight is more towards the latter, especially because Samson is really not shy. Heās quick to get handsy, which doesnāt happen that often with Romy: her mutation can make people reticent, especially her cold, clammy touch, but this guy just about seems to get off on it.
āYeah? Well, thatās fine by me. Iām always wet.ā She grins, one eyebrow cocked as if to say she knows theyāre both being cheesy as hell, still not quite making eye contact as if it takes some degree of bravery to tease him. Spurred on by the hands on her ass, though probably not in the way Samson might imagine, Romy clears her throat, up on tiptoe, leans in close to make sure he canāt miss her words over the throbbing music: āHey, do you maybe wanna get out of here? Find somewhereā¦ I donāt know, quieter.ā
Her heart races, and the earnest plea in her eyes is real. Just, again, probably not with the intention Samson might think.
āāCourse, darling,ā Samson smiles broad, flashing his fangs as his hand leaves her ass to instead rest a palm between her shoulder blades. He has to lean down too much to keep his hand on her any lower. He takes her response to the wet joke as sign theyāll both have a sense of humour about this. Samās tired of too-serious sex, a few puns (hell, heāll even make a few about his own mutation if sheās into it!) and jabs always welcome.
Itād be a barefaced lie to say Samson sees anything other than interest and at worst a tiny bit of hesitation in her gaze. He can handle anxiety, or this being nothing but heavy petting in alleyway or more. Instead as he lets her lead the way out, he can only try to imagine what other mutations she may surprise him with.Ā
Walking through the crowd, in the opposite direction, they breach the front doors. The nighttime breeze is cool and fresh, the quieter city streets a sudden vacuum of noise. A lesser man may come to his senses, instead Samson gets a slight flush to his chest and a low laugh. The wet patch on his trousers looks far worse than it is. āI know a motel, nearby,ā he leans an arm over her shoulder, less blatantly sexual a gesture thatās more suitable outside of a heaving dance floor.ā
Itās embarrassing how nice this feels; Kaya almost immediately lets out a weighty sigh, melting into Samsonās touch. Itās just the right thing, over the fabric of Kayaās shirt so it eases him into the intimacy of this, but when Samās hands, warm and large, find the skin of Kayaās neck he leans into it. Eyes already closed, he murmurs a faint āmmā in response to the question. āFeels good,ā Thereās a lot of tension in his neck and shoulders, so of course it is nice to have those knots kneaded at, but it is also so, so nice to be touched like this by confident, generous hands. Samson is evidently a consummate professional, and Kaya is pleased to think that he picked the right person to spend his money on.
Feels good. Samson wonāt get cocky, yet. The deep hum and Samson continues. Thereās no moment where his hands are off Kaya: theyāre sliding over the fabric of his shirt to undo more buttons, then sliding across his chest, up and over letting the shirt drop off his shoulders before continuing the massage. Samson ducks lower, lips barely brushing his ear, āWant to get on the bed?ā Hands dip lower, past his shoulder blades before back up to continue kneading out the tension in his shoulders, āEasier to reach all of you up here.ā
Ugh. Despite his protestations, Jules actually kind of prefers it when Sammyās mean to him. The gentle bedside manner people take with him when heās feeling rough is always embarrassing. Heās so sick of feeling like a frangible piece of porcelain, something that needs to be cooed over and bundled in bubble wrap.
Though perhaps the most embarrassing part of it is that itās necessary. He hates it; but he is far more fragile than he likes to pretend. So Jules sighs, allowing his head to roll onto Samās shoulder, eyes slipping shut for a moment before he blinks them open, looking up at Sam: āOkay, but what if Iām in a rush? You gonna carry me back to the farm bridal-style?ā He gives a pale grin; Sammy had reacted so dramatically to what is an everyday occurrence for Jules.
Jules, thankfully, rests his head onto Samās shoulder. For a moment he looks peaceful: eyes shut and Samson looking down at him. A brief moment where he canāt help but think Jules looks pretty, long dark lashes against sharp pale cheekbones. Those big eyes are open, looking up at him with a grin. The thought scatter, Samson looking up abruptly as though the sharp snap of his head will chase the feeling away, too.
āRight and what if Iām enjoying myself? Itās nice out, you can nap on me,ā Samson crosses his legs at the ankles, like heās never been more relaxed than this. Heās not great at letting things rest thought it goes without saying (in his mind) heād do all sorts of embarrassing things to help out anyone he cares about, āAt the risk of furthering your belief I like a damsel in distressāif you needed to be carried, I wouldnāt complain.ā
One thing (one of the many things) thatās nice about Romyās mutation is how safe it makes her feel. Before, when she thought she was human, being this close to a guy Samsonās size would make her feel vulnerable and frightened and disgusted to varying degrees. If heād pulled human Romy closer, as he does now, sheād have been utterly horrified. But now she feels totally safe, totally in control of the situation. Big guys are actually often her favourites to get, because itās a reminder that nothing can hurt her.
Well, maybe his clumsiness could hurt her. He wasnāt being modest when heād said he wasnāt a good dancer, and Romy is acutely aware of the risk of having her toes stepped on. She really thinks about balancing on his toes, but something tells her that would be too little-girl-dancing-with-daddy-at-a-wedding to be enticing. Sheāll just suck it up if he squashes her. Deciding, in fact, to tease him about it, she goes up on tiptoe to say into his ear: āYou wonāt break me, you know,ā Just ambiguous enough to be a double entendre, but maybe one heād take as unintentional.
Oh sheās impatient. The shy ones often can be: finally getting the confidence to hit on someone, he swears they often get handsy sooner than anyone else as though the moment may slip away. Or itās unintentional. He wonāt break herāsize difference alone has him humming low. He wouldnāt break her, unless thatās what she wanted.
Giving in, he moves his hands to properly hold her. Itās hardly dancingā more an excuse to be too close in the dark room, the noise around them. āI know,ā he pulls her closer, a hand sliding down to her ass, ābut youāll make me wet.ā Said with a cheeky smirk as he is (literally) getting him wet thanks to the eternal drip from her skin.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā even ezra has to get up on his toes to kiss samson properly, but thatās far from a complaint. heās always enjoyed how he starts things outāteasing, almost ( if not quite ) gentleāand this is no exception to the rule. heās more than happy to lock lips ( and teeth ) with samson until heās warmed up. it doesnāt take long. before ezra can truly get a thought in edgewise ( that isnāt related to how much heās been looking forward to thisā¦ ) heās brought down to his knees. well, he falls faster than samson yanks him. so what? āi prefer it when you donāt,ā he groans, hooking his fingers in the edge of samās pants.
Ezra falls. Itās almost pathetic, instead itās only arousing. Samson struggles with his mean side, the feral side he tampers down, but Ezra is the one place he can let it out in controlled bursts. They both get something from this arrangement, but more and more Samson thinks itās not anything good.
āI feel any teeth or you try to hurt me? This stops.ā Anyone else heād threaten with punishments, but theyāre rewards in Ezraās mind. āYou behave? And Iāll see about breaking one of your kneecaps, Ez, maybe both.ā Letting go of his hair, Samson runs his fingers through. Almost something affectionate. His free hand rests on his hip. He undoubtedly wonāt have to wait long for Ezra to start pulling out his cock, heās still soft, fully intending on making Ezra work for his fuck tonight.
Samās comment earns a softly exhaled laugh from Kaya, who consciously pulls his shoulders down a little. āSorry, I donāt know why Iām so tense.ā Well; he does, really. But heās trying to rationalise it away because objectively thereās nothing to be nervous about. āA massage sounds great,ā he says, managing a smile, and this one a little more relaxed. Heās always been a tense person. Sonya used to stand behind him while he sketched out designs for work, rubbing his shoulders with some teasing comment. Sam takes a seat, comfortable as anything; and it does help, that heās acting like this is all so natural. Kaya makes himself comfortable on the carpet in front of Sam, loosening the top couple of buttons of his shirt. And he finds heās really anticipating this, more than heād realised. Itās not really sex that he misses or wants, but intimacy; he canāt think of the last time someone touched him gently, lingeringlyā¦
Christ, just the thought makes him feel pathetic.
He smiles, chuckles warmly but offers no more comment on the apology. Nervousness and anxiety sometimes gave way to a decent man, other times to some one who was a little more fucked up than even they realized. The worst apologies were when theyād talk about their wives or husbands; lament hurting their partner all whilst begging Samson to keep fucking them. Kaya, at least, doesnāt seem to be a guy in that category. āLetās get you relaxed,ā Samson begins the massage slow, through the fabric. Samsonās good at it, finding the knots in his shoulders, working through them. Moving closer to his neck.
Pausing for a moment, Sam slips a hand over the collar, warm hands on the back of Kayaās neck, shoulder, āThis okay?ā Samson waits for a response before continue, ready to slowly massage Kayaās bare shoulders before getting more buttons undone.
Kinevart nods. If he wants to be involved, then he can be. She is protective over her family, but the father of her child is family, too, in a way. And she trusts Samson. She would not keep him away from his daughter (Kinevart assumes it will be a girl). She doesnāt know why having kids would be so complicated for him, and she is about to ask (will it be complicated now? Is it a problem? Kinevart needs to know if so), but he abruptly asks to give her his number, tapping away at his phone.
āIf I needāā she repeats, confused. āWhat would I need?ā Samson is more than welcome to be involved in the childās life, but it doesnāt for a moment occur to Kinevart that she might rely on him for anything or ask him for anything. She does things alone; independently. She has always done so.
Kinevartās perpetual calm has been keeping him together. When she sounds confused, he canāt help shooting her a look. A deep frown because sheās done this before. Either heās giving stupid suggestions, or sheās too used to doing it without a second parent in the picture.
āI donāt know? Donāt pregnant people need help with shāstuff? Maybe when youāre bigger.ā The last part is mumbled, a half thought heāll have to ask around about or get someone more technologically capable to help him look it up. āI can help with cash, cooking, if you ever need, I donāt know. Someone to look after Lucine?ā
āOkay. I am sorry for not telling you; I wonāt keep anything else about it from you, now.ā Kinevartās apology is contrite and genuine, if a little awkward ā sheās not very good at social niceties. But she is genuinely sorry to have misunderstood what he might have wanted. Lucine had even tried to tell her she ought to let Samson know! āI havenāt had sex with anyone else recently so it is definitely yours. Condoms are only 98% effective, so I suppose the one we used was one of the 2%.ā This is another fact learned from Lucine recently, who had in fact lectured Kinevart on the topic.
Itās clear this is an emotional thing for Sam; and itās not that it isnāt emotional for Kinevart, but she is not demonstrative and, while this is not something she had planned or intended, she loves being a mother so it doesnāt feel like a problem. But, wanting to be sensitive to Samās response, she says, āI donāt expect you to make any decisions right away but if you would like to be involved in the childās life, you would be welcome. Youā¦ donāt have any other children?ā
Samson lets out a soft huff at the percentages thrown out. Kinevart has not struck him as the sort to care for those. They were a little... rough. Anything could have happened, and itās safe to assume she wasnāt on any sort of birth control. Fuck. āI want to be involved,ā the answer feels selfish, she wasnāt going to tell him. His āpleaseā goes unvoiced.
āNever planned to have kids because...You know. Itās complicated,ā he settles on, finally. Itās complicated and itās notājust some things are too difficult to put into words. The thought of his own father, a version of himself with all the good bits from his mom taken away, someone bigger and meaner. Or, worse yet, someone indifferent. Looking over to Kinevart with a frown, itās decided that heās going to help. Anyway he can.
āCan I give you my number?ā With more frenetic energy than usual, he starts digging through his pockets, clumsy as it pulls the fabric inside out. Heās already open his contacts, āIf you need anything, anytime you call. I work odd hours, donāt sleep much.ā
āā¦I would have told you differently if I had realised you didnāt know,ā Kinevart says, calm and apologetic in the face of Samās tense, withheld panic. She doesnāt really understand why he should be so worried; if he wants nothing to do with the child, then there will be no pressure from her. āLucine will watch the shop if you would like to come somewhere private to talk?ā she suggests, glancing to Lucy who gives a shy nod, glancing between her mother and Samson a couple of times before fiddling with her pencil.
Sam gives a mute nod, evidently shell shocked, and Kinevart guides him up to the small kitchen, where she directs him to a seat and pours him a glass of water, which she sets before him on the table before taking a seat for herself. āPlease donāt look so worried. I donāt expect anything from you, Samson. I never knew Lucineās father; my mother never knew my father; the Sarkis women have never been involved with fatherhood, as far as I know, so it reallyā¦ did not occur to me that this would be of interest to you.ā
Didnāt know? How the hell would he have known? The anger doesnāt surface, his shock and confusion paired with her calm apology is enough to keep him subdued. Following her lead he takes a seat, a gulp of water, and finds himself still mute.
Kinevart continues: thereās nothing to make him believe sheās anything but genuine. Not knowing her father, or grandfather isnāt some terrible secret like it is to Samson. Knowing his mutant blood was from some wandering bastard who knocked up his mom and bailed.
āI am interested.ā Sam leans back in the chair, running a hand through the thicker hair at the back of his head. Heās always so careful. All these years, heās never had an accident. That heās aware of. āWe used protection. Is itāare you sure itās mine?ā
āJD is always looking for an excuse to kill someone, if that helps.ā Jules exhales. They are very protective over him, though. He knows that. And mostly he values it, it just bothers him sometimes because heās the older twin; he should be the one protecting them. But most days itās a miracle if he gets through without getting dizzy from standing up too fast, never mind standing up for anyone else.
Pulling his knees up and hugging them to himself, Jules flops forward to press his forehead to his knees and close his eyes against the bright sun. āMean. I canāt believe youāre kicking me when Iām down,ā he grumbles. āIf Iām thirty five per cent faint, fifty per cent little bitch, fifty per cent snarky bastard, I think you should just be grateful I am willing to give more than a hundred per cent despite my troubles.ā Thereās a pause, and then in a small, barely audible voice: āIām sorry.ā Jules hates that he does this. Feels like he ruins everything; canāt just have a nice, relaxing, drama free day out. He always ends up doing something like this, or getting tired and leaving early, or having a bleed and needing medical attention.
The playful comments continue, he knows JD well enough to laugh along with it. They only mean harm to those who deserves it, and Samson has no intention of ever fitting that description ā at least not when it comes to Jules.
āNever known you to give anything but your all. Fuckinā insane man that you are.ā Itās all said in a low voice, a faint smile. āNothinā to be sorry for,ā Sam shifts around so he can sit shoulder to shoulder with Jules. The small contact hopefully helping to soothe or ground him. (And he can still keep an eye on anyone around them to keep Jules safe). āWe can sit as long as you need to, Iām in no rush.ā
