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Blaze has an explosive personality. A wildfire of charisma quick to spread through any room she brightens. Her voice is resonant, her chest broad, her smile contagious. A Top Operator, standing at the head of any conflict. She offers herself as a burden beast to far more than her fair share of trouble. Shouldering the weight of the intangible. Of the lives of her team. Of expectation. Of dreams, of a better future. To carry these atlas ephemera she has to be the person who exists in the minds of those who stare at her back on the battlefield, as she holds the front lines. She has to be invincible, deathless.
Impossible, of course. All things fail, glass shatters and steel rusts. Blaze knows this better than anyone, about herself. She knows that in time she will, just as glass and steel, become a mess unrecognizable. Mere scattered pieces of a hero, a puzzle in need of putting back together. It's an endless cycle, she cracks apart, and rebuilds herself. Just like restarting a heart. But the cycle need not start during a time of crisis. Here, in the safety of Rhodes Island, she can pursue a controlled break.
The night is young and loud, and Blaze is right at home. A far corner of Rhodes, doorway I.D. checked, bar stocked, air electric with music. A club of sorts, for the older operators to unwind. Blaze laughs and chatters and mingles her way through the room thick with cigarette smoke, perfume and sweat. On the prowl, under the neon ghosts of beer signs and stage lights.
She's popular, to say the least, her route is circuitous through the floor, like an indecisive cat searching for it's favourite toy. First, she's called to the table with the oni. Waved over by the redwood of a woman. A regular drinking buddy. Easy eyes and a level head. Too nice, probably. Next, drawn in by the commotion nearby. The Penguin Logistics redhead doing body shots off the Glasgow tiger, cheering in scots. Both fun, but... Too cheerful. Too sloppy. Blaze hunts a bit longer, until she settles at the bar. Tail folding into her lap, as she seats herself next to an unassuming figure. Someone she's deployed with often. The crossbowman. Schwarz, once described as 'a machine for ruthlessly killing humans' and 'someone you should keep away from the faint of heart.'
Perfect.
"Come here often?" Blaze leans against the counter, rolled shirt sleeves taut around her brawny arms, buttons undone charmingly low. Her smile is earnest and up to her eyes. She's not exactly good with words, but doesn't need to be. Her body does the talking, usually.
Schwarz sets her drink down. Her tail flicks, annoyed. She turns, and stares straight at Blaze. Eyes like the moon on an ill omened night. Full, unblinking. Feline body language crystal clear between the two of them.
"I'm not interested in chatting."
"Humour me?" Blaze flattens her ears, half laughing. "I'll buy you another of whatever you're drinking?"
Schwarz is silent a moment, inexpressive. Before her eyes start to wander. Her knifepoint stare cutting a chill down Blaze's front. From the tattoos on her chest, the scar from her defib installation. Her exposed midriff, toned stomach. The hair peaking out from the waistband of her painted on shorts, low and growing tighter. Schwarz once again looks her in the eyes,
"I'm a mean drunk."
Blaze leans in, giddy smile on her lips, and lets her fingers just barely curl around Schwarz' arm.
"Promise?"
The night is growing old and its hands have begun to wander. First, the door slams shut. Loud enough the sound guts the air. Next, Blaze is pushed against the wall with no less force, pinned by Schwarz with little room to move. Her neck and down to her shoulder painted already with bite, after bite, after bloody bite. Right at home against the story of scars across her body. Her voice punctuating each mark as she moans at the top of her lungs, "Yes!" Over, and over, until the word and it's meaning boil away.
Groping at her hips and taking handfuls of her ass, Blaze paws at the woman tearing into her, grasping and gasping and grasping her assent as she's ground against the wall. Her own strength beyond common sense, straining against the machine precision of arms that heft and nock bolts as large as rail spikes. She touches and touches and talks and talks and can't get enough. Directionless want stoked by limitless enthusiasm, a flash-fire of pleasure. Blinding, Painful, Beautiful.
Schwarz' fangs are sharp, and she is not gentle. Blaze stutters something that tries to be a sentence, making up in volume what she lacks in sense, as she ruts against the knee between her legs. Pushes against the claws digging into her back. She doesn't just hear, but feels Schwarz hum in pleasure, mouth full as it is with skin and blood. A frigid pain unfolding endlessly in her shoulder as the muscles in Schwarz' jaw tense. Like a matter of fact action, reaction up comes bubbling a babble of words between Blaze's lips. Flint, tinder, flame,
"More, Fuck yes, More, Harder!" Like a self starting machine, all it takes is a couple bites to rev Blaze to life.
Her hair a disaster–a mess to start–is tangled up in Schwarz' clawed hand. Her head is jerked back, and Schwarz pulls away from her neck.
"Open your mouth." Schwarz speaks with bloodied teeth. Long and wet tongue moving across her fangs to clean. Her voice is cold, despite the warmth of Blaze's arts alive in her mouth. Blaze does, spread, waiting, eager. She's grabbed by the chin, Schwarz' fingers are long and thick and calloused at the tips. Blaze feels each discreet talon-point from pointer, index, ring and on just a hair from breaking her skin. Schwarz leans close, looks her right in the eyes, and spits Blaze's blood back into her mouth. Viscous thinning slimy, electric like copper and arts-hot against her tongue. The mixture spills sticky across her face. Blaze gurgles, as Schwarz pushes her mouth shut and holds it. Excitement drips from the edges of her lips as Schwarz slides a claw down Blaze's shirt, popping free the last few buttons.
Then, there's nothing. Schwarz pulls away, takes a seat on the edge of her bed. Slips off her shoes. Wipes the mess from her lips.
"That's as much help as you get." Her tail flicks back and forth, she watches Blaze, as before. Unwavering, inexpressive.
"Strip."
Blaze's brain grinds to a halt, sudden lack of pressure, of touch, of Schwarz taking pieces out of her. She blinks, whole body thrumming like a power chord waiting to be struck. She stammers, unsteady on her feet. Tail shivering and shaking, swishing to the pulse of her need. Pupils blown wide, senses on overdrive. She can taste the air, see the sounds of the room, feel the heat of her body blossoming on droplets of blood. Blaze has to take a breath, to remember what she's doing.
Strip.
The word is as cold as the woman who spoke it, leveled like a crosshair. A promise, a command, an order overseen by unblinking yellow eyes. Blaze struggles against the seams of her button up,
"I see you at the bar a lot, ya know." She rambles, because she can't help it. Can't help being loud being a lot being just a little too much,
"Oh! And in the field of course," Blaze opts to tear the shirt apart rather than pull her arms free of the blood soaked mess. She shakes off a sleeve and mimes shooting a crossbow, complete with noise. Schwarz stays as she is, staring. Tail flicking back and forth like the hand of a clock. She does not react. She does not express. She waits, and watches.
Blaze clears her throat, kicking off her shoes,
"You should come drink with the Inspector and me!" She stumbles a bit, stepping out of her jeans, "She's not infected but her girl is. I think you'd like her!" Blaze takes one last step forward, running a hand down her bare stomach. The hair of her treasure trail scratching against her thumb, as she hooks it in to her boxers,
"Whaddya think?"
Schwarz looks up, and speaks,
"Kneel." and Blaze is halfway to the floor before she realizes what she's doing. Some forward part of her brain eager to please, excited to shut down and do as told. She swallows, dry.
"Beg." There's a coldness, behind it, that Blaze has felt from very few others. A disdain for life. She laughs to bury her nerves, her tail serpentine across the floor, stimulated as she is. Blaze knows exactly what Schwarz meant. There's nothing to lose in translation. But it's embarrassing to spell it out, and besides, playing dumb is part of the game, isn't it?
"Haha, beg? For what?"
Blaze feels it before she sees it, hears the explosive snap of skin on skin, before even that. Senses out of order, skin, red, blood, red, on her knees before a woman that's going to break her. She looks up to see Schwarz inspecting her claws, flicking off droplets, before once again staring her down.
"Beg."
Blaze's mouth hangs open, so talkative before struggling now. She touches her cheek, feels the flushing mark, the carved canals,
"I-" She can't stop herself from smiling, doesn't stop the laugh on her lips, "I want you to fuck me."
Again, a strike, a moan, a rose full bloom thorns and all planted against her other cheek. Blaze draws breath, fire in her lungs, her heart, flowing deeper, lower.
"Not good enough." Schwarz lifts Blaze's head, locking eyes and waiting.
"Please I-" Blaze is smiling, ears down, looking down, away. She feels the words festering inside her before she thinks them, "I want you to break me, please, I want you to tear me apart like you did the buttons off my shirt, drag your claws through me until I'm ruined and crying and degraded and humiliated…" Blaze blinks back tear starts, always so quick to cry. Big girl, bigger heart.
Without a word, Schwarz let's go of her, as you might discard a wrapper. Blaze has just time enough to catch her breath, before Schwarz plants a foot against Blaze's stiff cock, grinding the flat against her dripping tip. Some uneven chimera mix of a gasp, a moan and a squeak, slips out of Blaze as she jerks forward like a string cut puppet. She grabs at Schwarz' leg to support herself and
Struck dizzy, head spinning flat palm ghost against her face seething exclamations cut criss cross in to her skin, eyes watering. Her cock twitches with the slap, painfully tight big as it is underfoot.
"Don't touch." Says the knifepoint voice. Blaze can only whimper. Squirm like the worm that she is, as Schwarz smears what seems to be an endless font of pre across the considerable length of Blaze's dick, snug in her boxers. Tittering, stuttering, fluttering Blaze grinds a moan through her clenched teeth as Schwarz pushes circles in to the slimy wet cock crown.
She can feel it, welling up inside her. Like a scream begging to feel her throat, borne from her beating heart on wings of need. Warm and, sticky and, shameful coming from a deep dark place she squeezes her eyes shut to find that blackness, bury herself in the coming conflagration the coming, coming-
Nothing.
Her eyes snap open, ears folded flat and back, her breath quickened, lips parted in the hollow of a Why? That never comes. Her thoughts a run on sentence robbed of its period, Blaze shakes her head, her tail beats against the floor, as she gathers her words,
"You-" So starts a question, that devolves in to a smattering of syllables and letters until Blaze is clawing at the floor with each circle of Schwarz' foot stray vowels leaking out of her. Starting from the A, B, C, and pressing and swirling wet sloppy slippery sticky W, X, Y….Y–why? Why did she stop,
"Please, please please please-" Swallowed by the sudden nothing once more, a gush of pleading leaps off Blaze's tongue. Hands outstretched but not quite touching Schwarz, close enough to share heat, trembling, seeking.
There's a moment, a pause, as Schwarz sits quiet amidst the ambience of begging. Then, with certain considered motion, Schwarz stands and gestures to the bed,
"Sit." She waits, tail tip tick tocking back and forth to the same unerring rhythm she's kept all night. Blaze falters, addicted to how the woman moves. The shadow across skin of muscles shifting beneath, the silence of her steps. With nimble fingers Schwarz undoes the latch of her belt, winding it around her fist with practiced ease. For the first time that night, Blaze is given a kindness. A warning, as Schwarz tips her hand to slack just the metal buckle. Blaze is on the bed within the same breath.
"You asked what I think." Schwarz starts, planting a hand in Blaze's middle, talon to brawn. Pushing her back to the mattress with force irresistible. White sheets rorschach with blood. She grabs the boxers with her other. Blaze wiggles, lifts her hips and shifts her tail, cooperative as Schwarz pulls them off,
"I think you talk too much." She looks over the garment, wadding it up, thumbing the sopping shameful stain.
Blaze sits back up whimpers through a shaky smile, not sure what to say, or if she should say. Naked, bare, nervous, desperate to cum. Schwarz grabs her by the scruff of the neck,
"Tongue." Out, flat, good girl. Blaze wants to be good, to be broken, to be good and broken. Schwarz places the wet fabric in her mouth and Blaze can taste herself, taste what's been done to her, the tang of personhood leaking from the tip of her dick,
"Hgk," is all she can say when Schwarz tightens her belt around the makeshift gag.
"I think," Schwarz moves slow, as she brushes fingers across the cuts she made on Blaze's face,
"That you play like you're respectable. But you're just a brat. A Bitch Kitten, mewling for milk. Pawing at all the wrong places for attention." The facade of tenderness in her touch is carved away word by word as she presses a claw harder and harder in to an old mark.
"Gghgkh," Blaze drools a moan through her gag, feels her dick twitching against her leg as the pain thoroughs through her. Blaze's hands fidget with the air wanting to touch wanting to be good. Schwarz' fingers falll south, and plant against Blaze's chest.
Breath whiplash in her lung, sudden movement, thrust to the bed. Surprise filters through cocksoaked fabric. Blaze blinks and, loses her bearings, rolled on to her stomach, her tail wild in the air until a firm hand grabs it. Another at her thigh and she's dragged across the bed, across the lap of a sitting Schwarz.
"Up." Cold voice against her sweaty skin, confusion in her head still tumbling and she's yanked by her tail until she's ass up dick hanging between her legs.
Reprieve is the sensation of a palm still against the small of her back, another stroking her ass. Up the hand moves and Blaze breathes in, down, and out. The moment stretches on as Schwarz picks and pulls away clumps of Blaze's hair, stuck by sweat and blood. One last breath and then, piercing through the heat of her body pain cold claw points. Blaze buries her face into the covers, voice wet to the sound of her own skin splitting as Schwarz rakes through the chiseled muscle of Blaze's shoulders. Moaning, gagged, tears cutting lines down her face, salty sting against nail scrapes, soaking the fabric same as her arts-warm spit.
Vice steady, Schwarz grabs a tangle of hair at the back of Blaze's head, pulling, forcing her to look up. Blaze gurgles, gags, unsightly. Eyes red from crying. Long thick strings of Saliva hanging from lip and chin. Blood on her cheeks. Schwarz doesn't blink. She wipes much of the drool away, puddling it up in her hand. It's thick, hot to the touch. She puts it to good use.
Blaze yelps pathetic, descending in to one long high pitched whine, breathless as she feels Schwarz smear all the spit up and down her dick. From the base warm wet, sliding to the tip and swirling with her thumb mixing,
"What a pointlessly big thing." There's real disdain, or disgust, or disappointment in Schwarz' voice and Blaze feels her cheeks flush. Her cock twitches in the woman's grip, sensitive skin thrilled against palm and fingers.
Dripping. Exposed. Ruined. Worthless. Canyon claw marks, talon points, sharp words apart the heart. All carved into Blaze's body like stars through the night and in flows warmth, hurt, light.
Her thighs quake and shiver, she feels it scalding and fluid. Her ears fold back the hair on her tail frazzles, toes curl nails dig through sheets and a horrid noise forces through the gag, loud, explosive, muffled. Like a mountain scraping tidal across the world, an orgasm is ground out of Blaze with intensity enough to blot seconds out of her continuous self, blackout.
The night is laying down to sleep, and Blaze is spent. She collapses, a spring unwound. Sweaty, whimpering, body wracked by shivers and aftershocks. Schwarz sighs, and lifts Blaze best she can. Moving her to the center of the bed. She undoes the gag, and looks Blaze over. The world is hazy, glowing, heartbeat in her ears. Blaze feels one last dominance of feline behavior, as Schwarz starts cleaning her up. Pampering, grooming. Wet wipes against the cuts. It stings, a bit.
"Did I, do good?" Her voice is weak, sandy, frail. Schwarz touches a hand to her cheek, looking her in the eyes, and finally, truly,
"No." breaks her.