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He leans against an old, crumbling brick wall slowly inhaling bitter smoke and nicotine as he scans the late night bar crowds for likely prey. He exhales smog and rules out people for being too drunk, too sober, too shabby, too large. He wants this to go quick and easy and to have a payout worth his while. He takes another drag as a small group of women passes him by in a cloud of perfume and cheap alcohol. They seem a sure enough bet so he stubs out his cigarette and flicks it into the street. It’s fucking filthy anyway.
He maintains a careful distance from the unsuspecting women even though they appear unaware of anything beyond their own merriment. It takes two blocks but they finally begin splitting off from each other. Three women stop and wait to cross the street while the rest continue on. He keeps up with the group. Another block and a fourth woman turns off alone down a side street. Perfect. He follows the solitary woman as quietly as her own shadow. He waits until they are well and truly alone and far away from the safety of the main street and anyone who cares about what happens to her. When she ducks into an alley he decides to make his move. He’ll hardly have a better opportunity and the tall concrete walls will dampen her screams if she decides to be stupid.
“Oi.” He growls.
She startles, half turning, and he notes the sway of a gleaming chain connecting her nose and ear. Her visible eye is harshly exaggerated with black shadow.
He pulls out his knife making sure she sees, “You’re going to give me all your money and anything else valuable you have on you. If you aren’t a bitch about it you’ll walk away tonight. If not…” He half shrugs and lets the threat hang in the air.
He’s done this enough times to know the threat of violence, the naked steel, is enough to make most people give in to practically all of his demands. So he isn’t expecting her sudden snarl as she whips around and launches herself at him. Her forehead breaks his nose with a sickening crunch; he feels rather than hears the soft wet pop accompanying the sudden gush of blood. At the same time she lands a sharp blow to his wrist forcing him to drop his knife. Eyes watering he hears a scuff followed by a metallic cacophony as the girl kicks his knife far out of reach down the alley.
Pissed now, and never having needed the knife in the first place, he comes up swinging and fists the dumb bitch in the stomach. She grunts and doubles over, retching slightly.
He steps back and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. It does little more than smear his blood across his knuckles as well as his lower face but he flicks some of it away regardless.
“You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”
She glares up at him, still hunched over, through sheets of black hair.
He tries to wipe the excess mess off his face again to no avail. All he can taste over the bitterness of his smokes is the bright copper tang of his own blood.
He realizes his error in allowing himself to be distracted when the woman straightens and throws all her weight behind a lightning fast left hook that snaps his head to the side. His neck protests and his cheek feels tender but he doesn’t repeat mistakes because that’s a good way to get killed out here. He reaches out and tangles his fingers in her hair. He yanks her down sharply to meet his rising knee. She cries out in pain but jerks away, the short silky strands of her hair slipping from his grasp.
She retreats a couple paces and glares at him belligerently. He’s split her lip and the blood trickles down her chin to drip on the worn leather jacket she’s wearing. He glares back at her. He doesn’t have time to deal with vicious punk whores. They both stand, panting and glaring, at an impasse. He flicks his gaze to his knife but it is thoroughly out of reach. If he didn’t know how fast she could be he might have attempted to grab it and regain complete control of the situation but as matters stand he’d only be opening a weakness for her to exploit. He looks back to her face in time to see something hungry flash in the depths of her dark eyes before she’s on him.
He starts to take an offensive stance, ready to meet her head on, but she surprises him with deceptively delicate hands that grasp the collar of his tank and lips that crush against his own. His brain stutters for a moment but then he’s shoving her against the wall and forcing his tongue into her mouth. She tastes like blood but so does he and he is beyond caring as she growls and bites down on his lower lip. He retaliates by curling his hands around her shoulders and pulling her towards him before slamming her back into the wall again. She snarls at him but he growls right back and forces his hard thigh between her legs. She gasps and grinds down instinctively so he increases the pressure on her cunt and bites along her jaw and throat.
She releases her death grip on his shirt to dig blunt nails into his shoulder with one hand and to yank his head back with the other fist in his hair. They gasp for breath, no space between their bodies, bruised and bloody and so very ready. He can tell by the insistent twitches of her hips that she can’t seem to control and the way her gaze slides from his eyes to his lips to his heaving chest and back. Her own thigh nudges between his and he spreads his legs enough to let her feel his hardness. Her already dark eyes blacken further and she moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue - wincing as she encounters the torn skin there.
“Do you live near here?” She asks, voice husky and strained.
He has to think for a minute and mentally trace the route he took following her and her friends.
He nods, “Yeah, a couple streets over.”
“Well,” she raises a cocky eyebrow, “Are you going to take me home or are we fucking in this alley?”
He shoots her a dark look and disengages. He walks over and collects his knife, putting it away, before turning back to her. She was slumped back against the wall, her eyes following his every movement. He snorts.
“Are you coming or not?”
She chuckles, a wicked little noise that goes straight to his cock.
“Not yet,” she purrs.
She stands on shaky legs and walks over to where he’s waiting for her at the mouth of the alley. Once she catches up he leads the way to his nearby apartment. It’s a shabby place but it’s clean and it’s home and it has a bed.
She runs cold hands over his arms and shoulders and back as he fights with the door lock, the piece of shit in desperate need of repair for the past few years. Finally he jams the key into the hole and opens the door to his spotless flat. He manages to rescue his key and swing the door shut as she attacks him with her lips and teeth and tongue.
He pushes her off with a terse, “Hold your fucking horses.”
He flips on lights as he stalks to the bathroom. The face in the mirror is more fucked up than it’s been in a long time and he sighs as he turns his head to get a better look at the split she’d opened up along his cheekbone that he hadn’t felt. It’s coagulating but between it and his nose his face is a bloody mask. She’s hovering in the doorway with a careful expression of neutrality but there is a faint tremor to her fingers that gives away her anxiety. He turns on the faucet, more hot than cold, and scours as much of the blood off his face as he can. The cut on his cheek stings as he reopens it but it’s only seeping so he ignores it in favour of peeling off his bloody shirt. He briefly considers soaking it but decides to just toss it. He has others anyway.
He turns back to the woman and braces himself against the doorframe, letting her take in his muscles and tattoos. When she finally meets his eyes again he smiles, all teeth, at the shocked lust written all over her face. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around the nape of her neck to drag her into another bruising kiss. Nails digging in at random intervals, her cold hands stroke desperately against his skin. With the hand on her neck and the one he clasps around her hip he presses her back, leading her down the hall to his bedroom.
He releases her hip to turn on the light and pulls back for a moment to take in her flushed face and swollen lips. She’s still fully dressed so he rectifies that by sliding his hands under her jacket and pushing it off her shoulders. It hits the floor but he doesn’t let it bother him as he palms her tits through the thin cloth of her ratty shirt. When the peaks of her nipples poke at him he slides one hand under her shirt to see if she’s really braless. He encounters only skin, much to his delight.
When he closes his teeth over one perky nipple through the fabric of her shirt she gasps lets out a stuttering little moan. He offers the other the same treatment and her head drops back with a groan and she clamps her hands onto his shoulders with a vise-like grip. He’s tempted to rip her shirt off but restrains himself enough to tug it roughly over her head instead. It hits the floor with her jacket and despite the growing mess he can’t be assed to care.
She’s jerking at his belt and he lets her undo it before shoving her to sit on his bed.
“Boots off. Now.” He commands.
She hastens to obey; unlacing her knee-high boots with fervor. He crouches to take his own off. He shucks his jeans as he stands again. Kicking them aside he approaches the girl on his bed. She’s only managed to get one boot off and is struggling with the knot of the other. She lets out a frustrated grunt and finally manages to loosen it. He bats her hands aside and she looks up at him as he tugs the unknotted laces until the boot is loose enough to slide off her leg. He does so with one hand, the other resting in the crook of her knee.
Depositing her boot on the floor he curls his other hand under the thigh of her free leg and spreads them to step forward and kiss her again. She gasps into his mouth and pulls him closer with an arm slung around his shoulders. Her fingers trace along his deltoid and up his trapezius and finally come to rest, with small stroking motions, on the shaved skin at the back of his scalp. He bites her torn lip to hear her moan and is rewarded by her flinging her head back, her weight mostly resting on the arm she has stretched out behind her - her fingers tangled in his bedspread. She’s gazing at him below heavy-lidded eyes and breathing deeply, her chest heaving, and he notes the tell-tale glisten of sweat gathering at her temples. He flashes her a quick grin before putting his teeth to better use.
He bites and sucks his way along her jaw and down her throat, not lingering long enough to leave marks. He tightens his grip on her legs and presses closer, grinding his clothed cock against her, as his lips and tongue chase the exquisite line of her clavicle. She ruts against him with breathy little moans. He pays brief homage to her breasts, pressing teeth into the soft flesh, and wraps his lips around each dusky rose nipple for a moment. Then he’s edging back and slipping to his knees to continue his trail down even as his hands slide up under the short torn skirt she’s wearing. He finds the top of her tights with nimble fingers even as his tongue traces the hard lines of her abdominals and obliques. He can’t see her face from this position but her needy whimpers and still-twitching hips are all the invitation he needs to hook his fingers under the thin elastic and drag the fabric down her legs. He deposits the damp fabric on the floor and pushes her skirt up pulling back to eye the long hard lines of her thighs. She’s still wearing her panties, a black scrap of fabric hardly worth the name, so he drags those down her legs too.
She has readjusted, laying back with her elbows supporting her so she can watch his every move. Her body trembles with her need and the strain the position puts on her core. He presses his lips to her skin again starting at her knee and moving upward. He drags his tongue in a long lick up one thigh nearly to the apex and she jerks into the touch with a strangled moan. He denies her and instead turns his head to bite down on the smooth flesh of her other thigh. He gives the skin between his teeth a long hard suck, tonguing at it playfully. She groans and he feels the bed shudder and when he looks up again she’s laying flat with an arm flung across her eyes. Her hips still rock upward in small, desperate rutting motions though.
He shoulders her legs farther apart and spreads her lips with the index and middle fingers of his left hand. She’s gleaming with wetness and swollen with desire and he leans in to taste her. She cries out sharply and her thighs tighten as she ruts up into his face while he hums around the tangy sweetness of her. He uses his free hand to pin her hips down as he traces the tip of his tongue along the slick folds of her cunt. Occasionally he pauses to tug on her lips with his teeth or suck the folds between his lips. His tongue teases her everywhere but her clit. He skirts it carefully and deliberately smiling to himself at each frustrated groan she makes when he gets close only to move away again.
Finally he relents and drags his tongue from the base of her vulva to that tight bundle of nerves. Once he’s there he doesn’t let up - licking and sucking as she cries out beneath him. He tongues her clit and then sucks it into his mouth timing the scrape of his teeth with a finger plunging inside her. She gasps and he can hear her clawing at the bed as she jerks and convulses under his teeth before melting bonelessly. He pulls back once the worst of her shivers stop and wipes away the mess she left on his face with the back of his hand. She’s looking at him with dark eyes as her chest heaves in a desperate bid for oxygen. He slaps a casual hand against the outside of her thigh, a stinging blow but not nearly as hard as it could have been, and stands long enough to make it to his bedside drawer where he locates a condom.
He peels out of his boxer briefs and sits on the now-tangled bedspread. He glances over and she’s rolled onto her stomach watching his cock with predatory eyes.
He turns back to the task at hand and tells her casually, “Take off your skirt.”
He glances back to see her eyes roll but she props herself up with an arm and her knees and undoes a small zipper along the side seam of the burgundy fabric. She wiggles until it pools around her knees and then drags it out from under her and cheekily tosses it across the room.
“Better?” She asks in a voice like crushed velvet.
He nods and rolls the condom down over his cock carefully.
“Much.” His own voice is harsh in his ears, desperate from the brief contact he’s had with his cock and the delicious sight spread out before him. She is all long muscular lines and harsh angles and smooth ivory skin and raven black hair. He gives his cock a single helpless stroke and she chuckles before crawling his way to tease his throat with small licks and nips, her breath hot on his skin.
“So are you going to fuck me or what?”
Her voice holds a growl and he shivers in anticipation. The woman is voracious.
He wants to flip her over and drive into her; sheathing himself in her tender flesh again and again until they both reach completion and no longer know where one of them starts and the other ends but he restrains himself letting her pay him back with her hot little mouth all over his tight skin.
When his cock grows impossibly, painfully harder he pushes her down to lay diagonally on her back across his bed. Her hair fans out around her head like an unholy halo and he lunges over her take ahold of those thick strands and force his tongue into her mouth again. She welcomes him readily, her back arching and her hands pulling him, crushing him, to her. When he draws back to breathe finally he hooks one of her legs behind the knee and guides it up over his shoulder. She reclines languidly beneath him, body betraying no strain even as he deepens the stretch on her hamstring.
She smiles up at him until he nudges at her entrance with the blunt head of his cock and her lips part in a soft sigh. With a single hand she strokes down his spine, starting at his nape and ending with a grip on his buttock urging him forward. He doesn’t need to be asked twice and presses into her as quickly as he dares; not stopping until he bottoms out and he feels the soft tickle of her pubic hair against his lower abdomen. Her other hand is digging into his shoulder again and he’s going to have interesting bruises in the morning. Her hips are grinding up in small circular motions against his own and she’s panting against his lips. He considers dragging out the moment but it sounds like a cruel and unusual punishment to inflict on himself so he lets go of his self-restraint and pulls back until he’s nearly out of her hot, wet cunt only to dive back in with a sharp snap of his hips.
He sets a blistering pace and she writhes underneath him, her hips bucking up to meet his own with every fierce plunge. He’s approaching his edge rapidly with each heavy thrust and she starts whimpering brief pleas of more and harder and an ongoing breathless litany of fuck, oh fuck while her hands claw deep furrows into his back. He settles his weight on the arm with her leg slung over it and reaches down with his other to thumb roughly at her clit. She loses her rhythm, hips jerking sporadically, and she crests again crashing down with a drawn out, shuddering moan. Between that and the slick wet sounds from where they are joined and the clenching pressure on his cock as she finds her release he reaches his limit. He buries his cock in her tight little cunt and grinds his hips into her pelvis as he spurts his own release into the condom. He collapses on top of her, probably crushing her under his not-insubstantial weight, but is too blissed out to care for the moment.
When they both stop twitching, subsiding into brief shivers, he raises himself on a shaky arm and reaches down to wrap a hand around the base of the condom to ease his softening cock out of her. He flops over onto his back to let her breath and remove the condom. He carefully ties it off and stretches out a hand to drop it into the waste bucket with a soft noise. He lays there catching his breath as the woman next to him does the same. He runs a sweaty hand through his displaced hair and grumbles.
Rolling into a sitting position he digs in his drawer for the spare pack of smokes he keeps there, not energetic enough to find the already opened pack in his jeans. He finds it and tears through the plastic wrapping and deposits it in the trash as well. He liberates a cigarette from the pack and sets it between his lips. He half turns to the woman lounging on her side in his bed and offers her one silently. She accepts it. Tossing the pack back into the drawer, he’ll have to remember to smoke them before they go stale, he grabs his backup lighter and lights the tip of his smoke with a small puff to make sure it caught. He holds the flame out to the woman who curls one hand around his own on the lighter and steadies her cigarette with the other. When she exhales a small cloud of smoke she releases his hand and settles back against the headboard.
After putting the lighter away he joins her. They take companionable drags on their cigarettes in silence for a few moments, bathing in the afterglow.
She removes the cigarette from her mouth and shoots a stream of light smoke to the ceiling.
“Your cigarettes taste like shit,” she informs him lightly.
He just cocks a brow at her and takes another drag.
She chuckles, a small smile curving up her lips.
“I’m Mikasa by the way.” She says.
He gazes at her appraisingly.
“Levi.” He replies, eyes drifting comfortably back to the far wall.