Chapter Text
October 4, 2017
If his Mama were still around, she would have told ‘im he was being way too eager. Girls didn't like it when you hovered around like ah damn fly on shit - well, that was more the old man talking in his ear than anythin’.
Lucas could still hear his Mama though, chiding him as if he'd ever had a girl even look at him twice before throwing her fuckin’ nose up in the air.
Best he'd ever gotten was a date with what's her face that ended up asking him out for shits and gigs back in the eighth grade. Lucas would still feel ashamed for being so fucking eager to say yes back then if he hadn't already strung the dumb bitch up while he'd been one of Evie’s minions.
Inside his head, somewhere gummy where Eveline’s stain still lingered, he could hear the stupid cow’s screams while the saw blades cut her in half. She'd been a real gusher - so much blood spraying the walls red. Almost looked like a professional paint job.
Lucas felt that wormy power rolling in his chest.
It had been a long while since he'd done something fun like that. It wasn't even like there was any shortage of dumb fucks around this part of the country. He could snatch himself up someone none the wiser if he were careful.
Maybe he'd pluck himself up some trashy bitch at a bar - some place Quinn would go to get a pig for slaughter. Places like that had to have equally disgusting chicks, right? The question then was what he could do with her with just the car and an old factory out east? Wasn't no sport in just killing ‘em.
Least not for him anyway. Quinn had a game she played, just with herself instead of traps and gadgets like he did.
There was this one girl back at the last gas station outside of Tex, snarling behind the register like she could smell something rotten on her upper lip. She kinda looked like this one bitch who used to wave her tits in his face back in high school - used to laugh at the boner he got too.
She'd be perfect, he thought, wondering what his dear ol’ Mama would think. Could be both versions of his Mama would jus’ be happy he was picking up girls. All them chicks he'd stolen from the ol’ man, jus’ so he could pin old high school yearbook photos on their faces and gore ‘em to death… now that was fun.
Even then his Mama would hush him with that fat worm of a tongue - tell him to watch where he stuck his dick, ‘cause who knew where them girls had been before Lucas got ahold of ‘em.
At least someone had thought he was gettin’ some pussy. Leave it to his dear Ma to think her crazy-headed son could catch some chick’s eye.
Pretty cheap…
Lucas felt a jumpy violence sink into his fingertips as he stood stock still in the liquor store with his hood up; the sleeves trapped between his thumb and forefinger, hiding the thick blue veins that laid around his knobby wrists and knuckles. Had to do something about his paleness one of these days, he thought, reading the labels of rum bottles. None of the names jumped out at him…
Quinn hadn't even bought an actual bottle of this shit - jus’ mentioned it offhand when she looked stressed out or pissed. Always said she needed a rum an’ coke and a fuckin’ shower at the end of the day, but only ever took a shower. If his girl wanted some rum, Lucas would get her all the fucking rum.
Never having been a booze hound like the ol’ man, Lucas wasn't sure what to get… so he filled up a shopping cart with each different brand and a two-liter of Coke.
The fat-faced zombie behind the counter didn't spare him a single glance. Dumbass didn't even ask for an I.D. jus’ mumbled the total with a phlegmy sniffle and stared at the counter.
Lucas angled his head down, clicking his tongue to get a tick outta him, but the dude barely blinked.
“Ya got shit for brains, buddy? Ain't no one ever teach you tah smile?!”
Liquor Store Clerk just blinked before sliding his eyes back to the price readout. Lucas stare at him over the tower of paper bags, noticing the security monitors against the back wall, showing all angles of the store, including himself and Liquor Store Clerk. No one else but the two of ‘em.
“Three-sixty-one and umm… fourteen cents, please.”
This guy! Fucking riot.
How anyone thought Lucas was a crazed lunatic when the world was chock full of guys like this, he’d never understand. Pretentious pricks… all of ‘em. If anything, he was the sane one compared to these empty-headed morons. Liquor Store Clerk could end up in a wood chipper and probably be too dumb to scream.
Against his better judgment, Lucas laid down four hundred bucks, took his change, and left the guy alive; chuggin’ along with his four brain cells still intact.
Maybe Lucas would come back after his date night was finished, take Liquor Store Clerk somewhere lonely and seal ‘im up in the VW with all the windows and seams made airtight. Hell, if tonight went well maybe he'd bring Quinn along so they could watch the retard suffocate together.
The rum bottles rattled as he drove down the empty roads towards Ogden.
On the passenger seat, his laptop was busy spying on Quinn as she stared in boredom at her phone. She was looking at weather feeds, fucking off as screams echoed from her TV set. Lucas could see the light patterns skipping along her face; flashing in her eyes.
Horror movie night, or some real messed up shit he wasn't aware of yet.
“Heh, someone's started without me.” He grinned, pushing down on the gas, running a red light for the fuck of it, “No matter, though. I’m’ah comin’, Quinn… jusssss you wait!”
He felt that fucked up flutter fill his stomach; felt his veins pulse along the cords of his knuckles and neck. Lucas tried to pull his teeth back, stop from grinding them down to nubs but he was too eager to get inside her little house - inside her little mouth and cunt and soul and bury himself so deep she'd never wash him off.
Lucas imagined her gleefully slicing him from groin to throat, riding him as blood sprayed up along naked, writhing flesh; tits bouncing. The visual excited him enough he nearly ran right into a truck, blazing down the dark roads. Wouldn't do to show up at her place with a squishy skull and some missing limbs.
No-no-nooo… had to be careful. He had to look his best when she opened her door and saw his face. Would she recognize him from that night in the factory with shithead burning between ‘em?
Yeah, she'd remember him. Not like she was dumb as the rest of the world. Quinn was a step above the rest. She was on his level and… and! - Shit! Lucas needed to park a few houses down a fuck his fist before showing up. His cock was so fucking hard he could brain someone with it.
Didn't take long, either. A dozen quick, long strokes and a meaty squeeze and Lucas was growling into the steering wheel, blowing a load down beside the gas pedal. Sweat ran down the tip of his nose, catching above his upper lip. Lucas licked it away, tasting something mildly human again: salt, something sour too. He watched the porch light on Quinn's house buzz with insects as he gulped down breaths, panting as if he'd been outrunning Ethan again.
“... shit fuck,” he wheezed, rolling his rough palm across the bulbous head of his deflating cock, shuddering at the dregs of pleasure. Might need to do it again before seeing her.
Lucas waited all of five minutes before turning off the car, settling back in the driver's seat and squeezing another bone-shaking orgasm outta himself.
By the time he was clear headed, balls empty, he had to pull the sweaty undershirt off his back and shrug on a fresh one from one of the old Walmart bags he'd gotten a few weeks ago. The hoodie smelt alright, so he shrugged it on, zipped up and stepped outta the VW.
He'd come back for the booze when he was sure she wouldn't run. Wouldn't be great to show up with an arm full of glass bottles only to have tah drop ‘em on a chase.
‘Alcohol abuse’, the ol’ man had said when Lucas dropped a beer bottle on the kitchen floor that one time when he was thirteen. ‘Abuse my ass’, he remembered saying. Yeah, he got a nice little whack on the back of the head for that too.
The fresh shirt was already damp with nervous sweat by the time Lucas was standing at the end of her porch stairs.
He'd paced a few times, running an erratic batch of fingers through the messy threads on his scalp. Needed to cut it, he thought. It had gotten too long after leaving home, and he'd been too preoccupied with Miss Quinn to worry about keeping it cut. Actually, he'd let himself get real nasty if he thought out it. The scuff on his chin never grew fast, but it had grown down his jaw and the front of his throat more than it should have.
When was the last time he'd brushed his fucking teeth?!
Lucas stood there with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and imagined soft, sweet smelling Quinn recoiling at the fetid sight of him. He frowned, working his tongue between his teeth until it was open and bloody. The bitter twist of his blood on his palate centered him long enough that this almost seemed like a good idea after all.
Tickles across his brain, like a spider crawling on the walls of his skull, made him grin. That warm anticipation came back tenfold, and with a ragged smirk, Lucas galloped up her stairs and pounded on her front door until he could hear her yelling.
“Hey! Calm your tits, asshole. I'm coming!”
There was a rush of breath behind the door. Lucas twisted his lips into a wide grin, staring into the little disk of glass on her door - the little eyehole where she sure as fuck had seen him. So, she recognized him after all. He'd been worried she might’av been too freaked out to remember him as more than a slender figure beyond the human fire pit.
As if her lips were right along the wood, she asked, “What do you want?”
Ooh, man… she sounded good enough to tongue and suck down whole - so scared but determined and firm. Lucas licked his lower lip, swallowed down the taste of old blood and rested his palm on her door, arching a brow up into the eyehole.
“Ah’ was just in the neighborhood ya know,” he paused, hissing a giggle, “An’ I umm… heh’ just figured I'd pop on by and introduce myself. And before you start off on some ten-question shit… you keep me out here an’ baby, I'll find my own way inside.”
She inhaled; raw and laced in something that got his well-used cock to twitch to life again. Really had to figure out how to keep that dick of his under control, it was becoming the bane of his existence. A real ‘hard’ problem to handle.
There was a great deal of thinking happenin’ behind the door that Lucas was about to head back to the car and find the hammer, but a soft click snapped his attention back to front and center. Another lock unlatched - the deadbolt reversing. The door cracked, leaking cold air and soft, warm light as she removed the chain from the frame.
Lucas could smell her. Mouth wateringly good.
“I've got a gun,” she told him, sounding malicious but Lucas knew better. She didn't have one, not yet anyhow but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous with just a kitchen knife. He was aware of what happened to dudes that thought she was a pushover jus’ cause she was short and hot as fuck. Lucas wouldn't let himself get too carried away until the timing was just right.
As the door opened, Lucas finally got to see her in the flesh, without the pretense of looking like he was doing something else - like he wasn't staring at every move she made. And she looked amazing tonight. Lucas hadn't gotten a great look at her all day, except for her face and some quick angles from her phone.
Her bare legs looked smooth, sprinkled with a few freckles and one large bruise above the left knee. Must've gotten that nasty jab from the asshole Lucas had burnt last week for her. He could visualize her, all bare teeth, wrestling with that prick in her shitty car, elbows, and knees flying before getting a good angle and wedging her blade home.
Quinn gave him a rundown; eyes taking over the whole of him, hard enough he felt his shoulder twitch under the scrutiny. She'd learn to love him even if he wasn't all that well put together tonight. They were too much alike - Quinn had to like him… and once she realized she could kill him as much as she wanted, over and over again… yeah, Lucas would have her just as addicted to him as he was to her.
Fuck it, he thought, grinning as he shoved an elbow into the door frame - he wanted her now.
With a faint grunt of laughter, Lucas hung his head down into his shoulders, staring down at her pinched face and mean eyes. Her hair was up in a messy bun, some strands spilling around red cheeks. Fuckin’ hell… she was hot shit. Even if he weren't immortal, he'd be down for getting a knife in his neck just to feel those rosy cheeks hollowing around his cock.
She gawked, glaring at him as he smirked.
At this angle, he could see down the wide collar of her Metallica shirt - the barest glimpse of creamy tit and fragile-looking collar bone.
If Lucas wanted he could snap her in half. He could pull at her throat and tear her head from her shoulders… could shove his hand through her navel and rip out her heart. He imagined breaking her into wicked, wet pieces, sewing her back together and making himself a real horror-style bride, but she was perfect as she was. Down to every last strand of hair.
Perfect.
As Lucas took her in, noting how her throat tensed, he arched a brow and licked his teeth like he'd seen wild dogs do.
Quinn’s lips parted as she opened her front door up nice an’ wide, “So, you're in now... you ready for my ten questions or are we gonna have a bigger problem?”
“Man, you got no idea how long ah’v been waitin’ fer this moment.”
She didn't look surprised, just suspicious, as she stepped back, letting him inside her personal space, “... how long? I mean, how long have you been following me?”
“Ahhhh’not long. You and me really ought to have a little convo about yur firewall protection. Could have way worse than me show up at your doorstep.” Lucas gave her a deep look under the shadows of his hood and grinned, “But hey! - don’ you worry. You're lucky it's me that caught ya first. My Mama always said I could never hurt ah’ fly.”
Quinn gave him a look of disbelief before shutting her door, hesitating at the locks until he saw her leave them open. Lucas figured she was planning for a possible get away if he ended up doing what she figured he was here to do. Not like he didn't wanna do some foolin’ around, but it was too early for that kinda fun. Tonight was about meeting face to face and… maybe getting a fresh eyeful for ‘imself.
Jee-damn did she look good tonight. Lucas swallowed a wad of spit under his tongue; gulping down like a noisy lech but the soft drum of metal choruses from her bedroom drowned it out.
“And why'd you burn that dumb fuck Tuesday night?”
“Meh, I hadn't burnt anyone in awhile,” he told her. Honest, enough.
In truth, Lucas wanted to put on a show for her. Showmanship was lacking now that he didn't have a party room and the space and seclusion for his games. Getting to douse her victim and set the prick on fire while she watched had scratched an itch.
“So… you are…”
“Are what, now?” Lucas grinned so wide he could feel his lower lip softly split.
“A serial killer,” she admitted, looking like the words tasted dirty to her. Rather base term for what they were, he had to admit. A label coined by dumb fucks in office chairs with their big glasses peering down their noses at everyone that didn't fit their moral baseline. Fuck ‘em, Lucas thought, giving Quinn a hard look as some sweat broke out on her temple.
With a lick over his split lip, Lucas told her as sincerely as he could manage, “Think about it as if you're a garbage man or,” he giggled, “...woman, in yur case, and them fuckers are sticky cans an’ wrappers an’ you and me, we throw ‘em out.”
Quinn stared at him with an expression Lucas hadn't seen before. Couldn't categorize it, but he liked it. She blinked, grazed her lower lip with a wet, pink tongue and swallowed, “... you're saying we're the same?”
“Ooh, baby, we’re better than that.”
The day…
The text went through way more readily than it should have, given how long it took her to compose the damn thing. She'd been sitting at her dining room table like a teenager studying for an exam, running through a hundred ways to say the exact same fucking thing.
Quinn looked at the text message as it went from light blue to solid: sent.
‘I'm ready to talk, Lucas. Come by around six this evening if you're not busy. I'll make you dinner, and we can hash some things out. Q.’
His response was immediate and straightforward and made her feel oddly drained.
‘I'll be there.’
With an exhale, Quinn laid her phone on the table and took a solid minute of mindful breathing to get her heart rhythm back to normal. She turned back to her kitchen, staring darkly at the bottles of rum Lucas had piled on her countertop and felt a cold shiver of desperation run down her spine. Never in her life had she felt so detached from reality as when he had been bringing in those paper bags, rattling with liquor - a huge smile on his face like he'd been some martyr.
Quinn rubbed her eyes until she saw spots.
Dixon was snoring in his dog bed by the food bowl; oblivious to her terror. Same kind of oblivious he'd been when Lucas had been over the night before. Sure, she'd run in front of a burning semi for that damn hound, but he was a worthless guard dog...
In the middle of considering a call to the shelter to pick up another rescue, adding another dog to the family, her phone vibrated. Her suspicions were confirmed when she tipped it over to find a text from Lucas and his ‘Unknown’ number.
‘Should I bring more coke?’
Jesus fuck, Quinn blew out a breath, ran her nails down her scalp and damn near wrung her hair outta her head. Instead of balding herself, she sent him a quick text, ‘Got some from last night still’ and shoved her chair back, abandoning her phone on the table in pathetic retaliation.
Two hot showers, a few over-the-counter pain relievers and a long talk with herself in the mirror later, Quinn was opening the door for the guy who had turned her whole world on its head - the man that could ruin everything.
Quinn listened as her mind told her that this… this was how she was going to die - it told her in grave detail that letting this fucker back into her house had been the dumbest thing she’d ever done. All she could think of - the only thing that had crossed her mind was getting him wilted on the sofa so she could shove a knife up his jaw and into his brain; a common solution to an uncommon problem.
Quinn stood with her hands folded over her stomach as Lucas dropped down to his knees. Dixon loved him...
“Hoo-boy, Q’tee baby, ah’ think yur dog likes me.”
She forced a smile - a dreadful one that might have been hilarious had she not been imagining how best to get Lucas’ cock out without actually touching him. Not that touching him was the problem, she realized.
There was something about him that scared her. Unlike any other man except Number One, she'd never been more than slightly spooked by the potential violence of men. But Lucas, he frightened her, and she hated it and yet that same fear reminded her off all those fresh, destructive feelings, making the emotions turn back around to arousal. Quinn looked at him and felt a raw sense of terror that reminded her of how easy it was to kill someone.
He didn’t really seem all there, either, paying more attention to Dixon as the dog betrayed her. Her faithful furry friend snuffled Lucas’ large palms and licked a blue-veined wrist with glee.
Even after their brief exchange the other day, Quinn didn't know what it was he wanted from her. His answers had been wrapped around a sloppy tongue, laced with some kind of energy she'd only ever seen in meth heads. Crazy fucker.
He gave her a few answers in the beginning, but after that, he answered every question for a question. If anything she was even more confused and thus vulnerable. With all her other numbers, she'd known what they wanted and how to exploit it. With this one… she wasn't so sure of herself.
Only one thing was sure. Lucas had to die. He was a killer, and as much as he assured her they were the same, they weren't. They couldn't be. Quinn wouldn’t let herself be charmed by his intense assurance of the fact. She wasn’t a serial killer…
But she was...
She wasn’t like him, though. He ‘murdered’ people - good people maybe. No reason behind it either. The guy got off on killing anyone that didn't meet his standards, and he had more of those than sense it seemed.
Last night Quinn could only stand there, hold her tongue and keep herself controlled as he recanted schematics for traps and some sort of fucked up card game he'd invented. The worst part of his constant explaining was the tender feeling of pleasure it brought to her gut. The recanting of violence had turned her on; got her wet and sloppy between her legs and it killed a part of her. Knowing that she derived pleasure from the torture and murder of anyone, not just the dregs of society, brought her situation into a new light.
Well, maybe they were the same, just as he said. Perhaps Quinn had been lying to herself all this time. They both killed for pleasure. Lucas, this guy could have just as easily had the same affliction she did but without having to fuck himself to get there, and if he did, then he didn't choose to take his need out on the undesirables of society.
She’d read enough crap on the innards of the deep web to know how some people could cum from some of the sickest and weirdest shit. Not that she judged… not unless it went against her own skewed morals.
This one anonymous poster claimed he could ejaculate from the thrill of stalking individuals. Cumming while he watched his chosen victims without any physical stimulus - so that being said, killing and coming didn’t seem so farfetched. Quinn herself got aroused by killing, sometimes so wet that she might have been able to climax from it alone… maybe.
“Who's ah good boy?!” Lucas growled, rubbing Dixon’s belly with a gleeful smile. Quinn toed the floor, nervous that her hound's soft stomach was under this guys hands.
Lucas - the asshole - had taken the joy out of the last kill, number Eleven. She'd been on edge; wanting to fuck herself at the peak of the moment, but that had passed, and she couldn’t muster the energy to do it once she got home either. The weak orgasm she gave herself that morning in the shower was so pointless it nearly made her sick.
She felt itchy and sweaty; needed to feel that hush of pleasure while the stench of blood swam up against her nose. Lucas… she almost moaned his name as her stomach flipped with excitement.
He was going to be number Twelve.
If this guy could blow a load just from killing, well… she was almost jealous. Thinking more about it - the whole idea seemed doubtful. There had to be some type of physical stimulation, right? At least for her, there had to be, though granted, she didn’t need much when it was built up so well.
This Lucas guy was too busy crouching down, flopping Dixon’s ears back and forth like a fucking kid to pay attention to her as she leaned back against the kitchen counter; knees suddenly weak. She’d thought about letting this whole situation drag out a little longer, but all her running thoughts of gore… or killing and fucking and sucking fat cock had gotten her more undone than she could stand. It wasn’t often she felt like someone else was driving… but hands, not her own, were holding her nerves, twirling the clockwork in her skull.
Carefully, she turned to grab a glass from the open cabinetry while slipping a dull paring knife off the counter, tucking it in her back pocket. The slyness wasn’t necessary, Lucas wasn’t paying her much attention.
She should have had a blade on her earlier, but it was only five twenty, and the asshole had shown up early.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked, eyeing the maniac wiping dog spit off on his pants. He wore a loose grin like that of a crocodile. With his hood down he looked, if possible, even more, unhinged than before. Perhaps because he looked more human, but the eyes and the smile were definitely… not. He was something else, less predictable than all that.
“Naw, you ain’t got anything I’d want in there.”
Quinn felt a nagging sensation in the back of her mind but ignored it as she filled up the glass with tap water, trying to appear calm and collected as he peered around her home, walking further into her kitchen, filling the air with some musky smell and an ass-load of tension.
If she had to suck his dick… it wouldn't be terrible. Certainly not the worst thing she'd ever done. If she had to fuck him, it’d be alright. If she had to pretend she liked it… that wouldn’t be hard, either.
Sure, he was skinny and pale and looked like he hadn’t eaten much in the past year or so, but everything was there that she usually went for.
After number One, she’d forgotten about guys, at least not those that weren't meant for a darker purpose.
Back when she saw a man for something other than a corpse, she liked them tall and gangly… and he had a dangerous line to everything he did that was attractive. A bad boy with a wild streak. She used to dig that before everything changed. If she fucked him, Quinn decided she’d enjoy it.
She could feel his eyes on her. He needed to die, she thought; knew and accepted.
Quinn wasn’t sure if he’d done anything more terrible in his life than killing to deserve it, but she wasn’t ready to go to jail or die herself. That look he’d given her last night said he wanted to do something more to her than meet her. Lucas gave her the same look she’d gotten from lions at the Zoo. Back then she had bars between her and messy death. Right now there was a tile floor between them and nothing else.
Quinn turned around and caught him staring with that same look, but it was different; directed down at where her ass had been bent over the sink. Yeah, this time… this time she knew that look.
He was staring with that unabashed look of hunger, except the difference between now and last night was that his eyes were trailing down to the exposed skin of her navel where her half shirt rested under her ribs.
She didn’t make a move despite the look, though. Lucas' mannerisms were too unique - too uncharted to determine with one hundred percent accuracy if he wanted to feast on her guts or unzip her shorts and lick her clean but then… then he peeled his eyes off her, ran them into her own gaze and she knew the difference.
He wanted her and Quinn could work with that.
Thinking about hooking a knife into his skull had gotten her wet, and the rest of her addled thoughts had drenched her enough to fuck a beer bottle, figuratively speaking. Quinn imagined he'd melt once she shoved his hand down past her underwear. Let him feel how drenched she was and see how weak he became - weak enough to murder and hack apart.
They were all weak.
God, she wanted to fuck him hard enough to make the ache last longer than it took for him to decompose. Quinn imagined ticking away the weeks and months, still feeling bruised from the slap of his stupid cock inside her as his corpse sunk, bloated and withered.
Quinn gave him a quick, hard look and imagined those muted eyes of his spread open wide in bliss and pain as she slipped wetly in his lap; fucking him sweetly while his throat leaked crimson on her bedspread.
For some reason, she wanted to do it in her bedroom… on her mattress. Yesss… with the springs squeaking as she slapped down in his lap while he bled out. Quinn wanted to see the deep blood stain whenever she changed her sheets, she wanted to run her fingers over her clit as she fucked herself on it.
A trickle of moisture slid out of her, staining her underwear further.
“So,” Quinn panted, folding an arm under her breasts in a show of bracing her elbow, tipping the glass against her lips. She paid particular attention to the way his eyelids twitched open, and those bleached eyes slipped along her chest. Yeah, that was a look she could work with. This had been a long time coming, and it was his own fault for stealing her climax from the last shithead.
Lucas had some making up to do.
“So.” He mimicked, leveling her with an unreadable expression.
With a gulp of tangy water, she smiled and set down her glass, holding the countertop behind her. Quinn angled her hips just so, watching Lucas’ eyes touch her curves like any other man would, but he didn’t say a word or make a move. He didn't take action, and though that gave her pause, it didn't stop her from reaching a hand down the front of her shorts.
His pupils dilated as she touched her warm, wet flesh.
“You know, Lucasss… I spent all night thinking about those guys you put through the ringer back home.”
Her eyelids fluttered just in time to see the way his neck sunk into his shoulders. Between his legs, Quinn could see the outline of a soon to be erection pressing underneath his zipper.
A tiny, blotted voice tried to warn her, but her heart was pounding in her cunt already, and the flesh wanted what it wanted. Quinn couldn’t stand the thought of holding her wrists back while he looked at her like this. Lucas’ lips parted; wide eyes lowered into nasty little slits, rimmed in thick sleepless purple.
“This,” she shivered, pressing down on her clit until a sharp river of pleasure rushed down her thighs, “it’s what you wanted right? Come on, we can plan a murder spree once you're done fucking this nasty cunt for me. Hmmm…?”
Heartbeat in her cunt - jean shorts moist, and she could smell the soft musk of sex already. So much like violence that Quinn almost let herself get too carried away. A few more hard swipes of her middle finger and she’d have cum without him.
Usually, the dirty talk was for whatever asshole she was about to slice, but the vitriol just flowed like honey, “What do you say, Lucas? You wanna see cum… your cum dripping out of my cunt? Wanna beat it raw and watch me scream, don’t you?”
It was quiet, but she heard it, a breathless, “Yes…” as his eyes traced her wrist as it rolled above the hem of her jeans.
Quinn jerked her hand out of her shorts, leaving a trail of shiny wetness along her stomach as she stepped quickly towards him. He was panting and sweating and hot to the touch when she pulled at his wrist, making sure to slip her wet fingers through his own fat digits. Lucas came after her with hot breath wafting down her neck, his hips bumping against her ass all the way down to her bedroom where she kicked her door open with an excited groan.
She was too hopped up on adrenaline to feel his fingers toying with her back pocket, running over the handle of the little knife she had tucked away - her brain was too fueled by fucking and the promise of unstaunched blood flow to remember it right now.
She jerked him around, felt his rare strength beneath his hoodie and tore the zipper down with a snarl.
“I’ll fuck that tight little snatch, jusss’ like you want but...hhhhhaaa,” he dropped into a muffled moan as she cupped his stiff cock over the slack of his pants - the thick, steel-bar of flesh made her knees bend, touching the floor. For the first time in a long time, she got down on her knees to suck cock because she wanted to, not because she had to.
“Ooh! Shit, ya read minds too?! Ha, Quinnnn’nn… sweet baby,” he babbled on and on while she unbuckled his belt, not even bothering with the button and zipper, just yanked his pants down to his knees, tugged the boxers down just enough for that fat, pale… twitching cock to spring free. It was hot on her tongue and drenched her taste buds in salt and sweat, and the burst of precum on the back of her tongue as she swallowed him halfway down made her shiver.
His fingers folded in her hair, not yanking… but petting - it only threw her off for a second before she worked her throat and forced her lips down until her nose bumped his belly. The length made her gag, but her heart was hammering so hard it didn’t matter. Everything was just a run through of the same. Quinn pulled back, slurped up trails of stringy spit and precum and nipped the swollen head of his dick before taking him to the back of her throat once again.
“...shit,” he breathed above her, “shit...shit, fuuuu’uck!”
This time his fingers curled, tore into her scalp and kept her head still while his hips bucked.
Under her hands, his thighs jumped like someone had him hooked up to a car battery. Quinn swallowed around the head of his cock, breathed sharply through her nose as he pulled back and opened her throat as he thrust forward. She blinked away tears as she gagged again, looking upwards. His eyes were squeezed shut, nose wrinkled and teeth bared in a nasty snarl.
She closed her jaw, letting him feel the taste of her teeth on his dick and marveled at the arch of his brows - the loose smile he bore.
The spill of cum down her throat wasn’t as shocking as it might have been had her fingers not felt the sudden hard line of his legs; bracing himself just before he came. Quinn gulped, tasted a thick string of cum as he stumbled back, falling ass first on her mattress with a drugged expression.
“Bummer,” she breathed, licking up the dregs of his load with a bitter smile. Fucking him was her plan, but there was always her own fingers, and she knew herself better than this asshole did.
Lucas grinned - a little line of drool making his lower lip look puffy, “Jus’ give me a minute and I’ll give you some real dick, Q-tee,” he told her, but she’d heard similar from guys younger than him. All talk.
He fell back on the bed, bouncing with a puff of breath. When she climbed up into his lap, he was the same as the rest of them. They never saw it coming. Such a sweet little surprise when they felt the knick of steel and the hot rush of blood.
Quinn sighed, “Don’t worry about all that…”
Lucas just watched her under heavy lids while she dragged her crotch along his thigh, pressing down just under his soft dick and kissed his moist lower lip. She’d miss that cock of his for a while after tonight. Even his cum tasted good; like some debased, salt-heavy sauce that made her smack her lips clean. But this was the best part - this bit coming up.
He didn’t look surprised when she jabbed the paring knife into the side of his neck, spraying the sheets with hot red. Lucas gurgled and… grinned.
Quinn rolled her hips down into his thigh, churning down into the tense line until her clit felt like it was going to pop with bliss. All that bleeding had gotten his dick hard again, and though he was gripping her bed sheets and his eyes were wide, and his grin was wrong, she fucked his thigh through her jeans and wrapped her palms around his neck; squeezing as she brought herself to a beautiful, sharp climax. The pleasure encased her body, spreading further from her cunt all the way through around her cheeks and shoulders… up her throat and down her calves. Bliss pounded in her heart and squeezed her lungs as she squeezed more blood out of him and rode his twitching thigh until the ebb came and his eyes were gray.
“... fuck,” she cursed, turned her hips down to apply enough sweet pressure to keep the feeling pinned a little longer while warm sticky blood beat in spurts out of his neck. The stench of blood, his warm dying body, and her lulling orgasm made her weak.
Lucas hiccuped and went still.
“I’m,” she inhaled, collapsing with her own death against him, “... gonna miss you.”
“Well, maybe” she mused, smiling at the soundless chest underneath her; marveling in the wake of such an incredible fucking moment. Every muscle in her body was useless; jelly under the skin. Lucas' death boner was still pressed underneath her. A darker part of her thought about making use of it, but it wasn’t the thought of fucking a dead man that gave her pause, more because she was already so relaxed and satisfied. The sticky, cooling pool of blood felt like magic as she skimmed the surface of it - too much blood for the mattress to absorbed quick enough.
Quinn heard the sudden, soft beat of a heart, but didn’t have enough time to realize what it meant until she was encased in tight, hard arms. She did scream, though it was cut short as the world spun around her; her back saturating in the pool of blood as wild eyes looked down on her. Lucas’ teeth were parted, exposed and she was too brain-dead to realize what was happening before he had a hand wrapped around her throat and her arms pinned underneath her.
Air - suddenly she realized her body needed it, more than she’d ever known before. Without it, she was going to die.
How the fuck!?
Quinn felt sweat leak out of her pores as a very dead-looking Lucas laid his hips over her own, shoving her into her soaked bed with a blood splattered grin, “Me an’ you… we’re perfect fer each other. Ya get me now?!”
Quinn moaned, trying to draw breath through his grip, unable to process what was happening without air. Lucas squeezed tighter, held her there as her head felt like it was about to explode and kissed her. Blood leaked between her parted lips, coating her tongue in sharpness. With his lips still on her own, his grip let up, and she gasped; tasting his breath.
He watched her steadily as she caught her breath, arching around his shadow like it was smothering her, but he was…
“You’re dead,” she hissed; throat raw.
“Naw, not dead… just punctured a bit. You really gotta up yur game if you wanna see that, babydoll. Spoiler alert, it’ll require more than you got access to,” he told her, sounding only slightly out of breath, and most of it looked due to the blowjob she’d given him and not the hole in the side of his neck…
“No,” Quinn mumbled, “no, no… no, this isn’t real. You’ve- I passed out, and I’m dreaming. Wake up, come on you stupid bitch! Wake up’wake… up…”
“You know you ain’t stupid… heh, maybe a bit of a bitch, but we all got our little setbacks. Good thing I like yurs.”
Lucas kissed her again, and Quinn latched her teeth into his lower lip, tore flesh, tasted only a small leak of blood and started to tear up. He grumbled, tonguing the break down the middle of his lip like it was a minor split lip and giggled. He wasn’t bleeding… no, why would he be? All his blood was staining the mattress and herself. It was plastering her shirt to her back, soaking through the dense fabric of her jean shorts.
“Imma fucking gift, Quinn.”
She blinked, letting the situation sink in. Lucas was alive. Empty of blood except for whatever refused to leave his hard cock and… talking to her. Like a fucking zombie or some shit.
“You wanna fuck a corpse, you can fuck mine,” he grinned. “Ooo… or maybe one day you feel like performing some backwood surgery while you got hard dick in ya? I can help with that. Could probably eat that pussy of yurs with a knife in mah skull too.”
While his dick pulsed against her she watched his lower lip started fusing like a video ran in reverse, “We can find out what ah can handle. It’s all up to yewwww!”
“How much you can handle?! - fuck… fuck! This is - this is all sorts of weird,” she mumbled; head spinning.
Quinn, in either a clear state of mind or the most fucked up it had ever been in, looked him over, relaxed with a grin and opened her thighs around his hips, feeling him sink deeper into her. He made a deeply satisfied sound in his throat. The meaty stab wound was already pinched closed; healed even though the blood remained.
Sensing something in her, Lucas let her slip her arms out from under her back, feeling her fingers peel apart as she stroked away the crusty blood from his throat.
“How’s this possible?” she asked, imagining primal evenings fueled by the quest for release, showering in blood as she fucked this strange man until he died… over and over again. Quinn thumbed the puffy scar that was already smoothing out against the artery in his neck. Lucas was… perfect.
“I’d rather save that story for our after-fuck convo. Might take ah bit but I’d say you’ll get another few pints outta me by the time yur ready to come. I’ll make sure it looks convincing fer ya.”
“Don’t say that,” she frowned, poking his healed lower lip, “it’s better if I think you’re actually dying.”
“Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” he chuckled, licking her thumb as he worked the front of her shorts open.
Furious in getting Quinn out of her clothes, they both slipped a few times in the slimy mess; a tangle of legs and arms until she was kicking off the tight, wet denim and Lucas was back against the mattress. He was naked from the waist down; shirt ridden up just over his navel with that fat cock standing at the ready.
It felt strange, but no less invigorating to have his blood-tacky palms on her naked hips, moving her up and shoving her down in his lap, stretching flesh like a stake through the belly. It stung; hurt like it needed to until she slapped up and down, feeling blood try to keep them stuck together, and hiccuped a moan.
More sticky bliss… more red wet flowed, and Lucas kept waking back up just to die again.
Quinn threw the blade into his chest, felt the hard thud of her curled fist against his ribs and hooked herself in as she rode him while he leaked. The hard sounds he made - snarling and begging - wedged their way along with his cock, filling holes unused. His bones scraped against steel, grinding as sure as he worked her back and forth inside the hollow of his hips.
“Again,” he huffed, tendons in his neck strained as she jerked the knife out of his chest. He gasped and snarled as she embedded it just above his collarbone, jerking it in deeper before ripping it out to stab again. Blood bubbled up out of each new wound.
Quinn did it, again and again, filling him with miniature wells until she was shivering around his cock, rocking down and up as his palms fell limp at his side. She landed a slice over his shoulder, meant for his neck, but her cunt was contracting, pulling and sucking so hard she almost wanted it all to end.
Fear, like seeing yourself falling, tricked her into holding Lucas’ face as she came, watching the glaze of death coat the bulging orbs. No, no… too deep and too far gone now for help. She was gone now. Quinn whimpered as a weak gush of cum spurted inside her; warm and disgustingly addictive.
His heart stopped, and with a strange lightness in her gut, Quinn remained hunched over his debased naked body - waiting.
The first she saw of it was the shift of hair in his nose as he inhaled. The rest of him came back online gradually. Heart beating sluggish then fast. Cock twitching into softness. His eyes were the last to come back, flooding with pale color.
His eyelids creased; pupils dilating and dialing in on her watching him.
It made no sense, but what made even less sense was how she felt about him at that moment. There was something different, but no less intense about seeing him come back to life - something so profound and intimate that she leaned down and swallowed up his breath with a soft sound, kissing him in a way at odds with the knitting stab wounds on his chest.
A strong fist latched the back of her head, pressing her down, twisting her lips along his own. The prickle of his stubble scratched her skin, bringing out another moan and another when his teeth tugged at her tongue. She leaned down, petting the sides of his scruffy face, thumbing the juts of bone and his high hairline, kissing him until her lips were numb and swollen.
If this were all a dream, she’d kill herself when she woke up… because going back to life before this was impossible.
“...gaw’damn, ten more minutes and we ought to do that again,” he said against her lips, kissing down her chin and neck when she couldn’t manage another lip lock without shaking apart.
“Tell me… please?” Quinn gasped as his fingers found her breasts, thumbs pressing under her hard nipples, “... am I gonna catch this gift of yours now? Cause… fuck this is a lot of fluids, Lucas.”
“Mmmm, ain’t it jus’ grand?!”
Quinn let him roll her over into the crusty, blood-wet mess - let him fuck her again as she whimpered and arched, covered in cum and red paste. She didn’t even bother with the knife this time, just kept her eyes lowered between their hips, watching blood worm its way inside her as Lucas brought her to an end again… running her down like a monster in the dark; summoned for some nefarious purpose only she could have use of.
Quinn, cupped his face as she panted through another orgasm and pulled him down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She hugged him until he giggled and rolled them over, wrapping his own arms around her until she could barely draw breath.
“This,” she wheezed as his soft cock slipped out of her for the second time tonight, “this… is fucking awesome.”
Lucas’ response was bone chilling, “Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”