Chapter Text
Even though you had every reason to panic, you were eerily calm as you cut across the dimly lit evening woods, one hand firmly clutching the handle of the duffel bag full of your belongings that you had retrieved from your ex boyfriend's lodge where you had used to spent the weekends together. Save that the memory of those weekends wasn't tender, it was vile.
Your ex boyfriend had been an abusive, aggressive, misogynistic piece of shit who had held you in his grasp longer than you ever should have allowed. But when you had broken up after one and a half years, that was when the trouble really begun. Of course, your ex could not accept being dumped by a weak and inferior person like you. That's when the stalking had begun, the threats of violence, the attempted blackmailing. But your ex would never stalk you, punch you or blackmail you ever again.
Because you had killed him.
His blood stained your blouse and your gun was safely tucked behind your belt. The gun that you had never intended to use, that was supposed to be a mere precautionary, a deterrence. But when your ex had suddenly appeared out of thin air, aggressively attempting to stop you from retrieving the things from the lodge that were rightfully yours, insulting you to the blood, threatening to beat you up if you didn't comply – It had been so easy to draw the weapon. And when he had still kept on swearing at you, calling you a worthless whore, had grabbed you by your arm with bruising fury – It had been your biggest delight to fire the gun into his chest, not once but three times, watching with cold relieve as his lifeless body dropped to the ground.
With surprising composure, you had packed the rest of your things and didn't even bother to hide the body in any way, let alone dispose of it somehow. Your fingerprints were all over the lodge, on his clothes and you skin was probably under his nails. In the very moment you fired the bullets, you had known there was no way to cover up this felony, had known that no one at court would care about how he had harassed, abused and threatened you. But you were not willing to get on the hot seat just like that, so your only option was to run and hide, even though you knew that getting caught eventually was inevitable.
Whilst you were still calm on the inside, your body was fiercely reacting to your distress, trembling in all the worst ways as you stumbled across shrubs and roots with racing heart and nausea in your stomach.
With weary eyes you peered up and down the street when you finally reached it, relieved to find it devoid of any headlights of passing cars. The only car around was your own, small and inconspicuous, parked by the roadside.
You fully emerged from the treeline, only to stop dead in your tracks a mere second later, horrified. There was a person on the other side of the road, having emerged from the tree line just like you had. Your terrified gazes were interlocked, keeping each other in a tense entanglement.
The person was a man and his white clothes were covered in dark spots, the same type of spots that your own blouse was speckled with. He was a grotesque mirror image of you, both of your eyes wide with fear and agitation but also filled with icy relief and determination, because you knew you had done what you had to do.
You knew he saw the blood on your clothes and he knew you saw the one on his and as you stared, you felt a grim knot of solidarity with the man tie itself in your chest. A silent agreement hanging in the air, the unspoken promise of not ratting each other out, should you ever be questioned.
The man gave you the faintest nod, standing rigid and unmoving as you nodded back and stalked towards your car, throwing the duffel bag in the trunk. His head was still turned, dark eyes on you when you got on the driver's seat and started the engine, disrupting the secretive silence of the dark, lonely road with a loud roar. Your foot loomed over the gas pedal, but your eyes darted to the side mirror and latched onto the white figure who still stood and stared. A ghostly, lonesome being, doomed to a similar fate than you were, or so you assumed.
You had no idea idea what got into you, but you decided to follow your heart, this compulsive sense of sympathy, that voice of solidarity inside you which called louder and louder the longer you stared. With eery calmness, you turned the motor back off, unbuckled your seat-belt and got out of the car, searching the man's gaze.
“Do you need a ride?”
He hesitated for a moment but you waited patiently until you saw him nod deliberately. With cautious steps he approached and as he stepped into the scattered light emitted by the car, you noticed he had captivating eyes that sat beneath observantly knitted brows, amidst a pale, angular face that would be considered very handsome by societal standards. Wordlessly, he slid on the passenger's seat and fastened his seat belt as you re-started the engine and slowly rolled onto the empty road.
You sat in silence, no questions asked by either of you. It was evident that none of the blood on both of your clothes was your own and you didn't intent to address it unless he addressed it, but the both of you seemed to be in complete agreement.
Minutes rolled by, as did the dark contours of towering trees. The only source of light along the road where the headlights of your car, and you were thankful for living in such a remote area for once. The last thing you wanted right now was another car on your tail.
Quietly, you cleared your throat and spoke up without looking the man in the eyes.
“Is there anywhere in particular where you need to go?”
“No.” The man's voice seemed deep and high at once, laced with a pensive softness that you found oddly soothing. “Just as far away from here as possible.”
“Okay.”
“And are you headed for a particular destination?” He inquired, not seeking your eyes either. His were locked on something undefined in the darkness.
“No, I’m… just driving. And trying to clearing my mind.”
He seemed to be satisfied with your answer, nodding absentmindedly, and stared out of the window. From the corner of your eyes you thought you saw some of the tension fall off the man's body as he relaxed into the seat a bit more, although he kept his hands folded in his lap awkwardly.
You drove on for a good half an hours, sitting in silence that wasn't unpleasant, along deserted roads that would eventually lead to a not so deserted highway to take you west. Or south. You were still indecisive. In fact, you had no idea where to go, no plan, no one to ask for advice. You wanted to call your family, didn't want to leave them in the dark about your circumstances you were entangled in, but you knew you had to leave them alone, had to get off the grid if you wanted to have a chance of getting away with murder. Your hands clutched the steering wheel harder.
Following a sudden intuition, you decelerated and pulled onto an abandoned looking rest stop that was entirely shrouded in darkness, as the street lights seemed to be either disabled or broken. You felt the man's quizzical, wary look on your face.
“We need to get changed before we get on the highway.” You put on the handbrake and turned the engine off. “We wouldn’t want anyone to see our blood-drenched clothes, would we?”
“I see. You have a point. But I don’t have any spare clothes…” The man declared, carrying a singsong undertone in his voice which seemed unintentional, like a subconscious mannerism.
“You can wear some of mine. Get out of the car.”
The man looked skeptical but followed your instructions, slowly walking round the car and meeting you in the back. You swiftly opened the trunk, and unzipped the duffel bag under the man's cautious gaze and rummaged around for clothes. Your hands found a shirt that seemed suitable for yourself, so you carelessly yanked your bloodstained blouse over your head, standing only in your bra in the cold night air. You hadn't even noticed how chilly it was until the cold breeze met your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over it.
As you fumbled to get the clean shirt over your head, you clearly felt the man staring at the suddenly revealed skin in a way that he probably thought was unobtrusive, but you didn’t care. You had bigger problems at the moment than a man casting glances at your chest.
As soon as you were done re-dressing yourself, you swiftly resumed digging through the depths of the duffel bag until you came across an over-sized T-Shirt that would fit the man's relatively broad-shouldered frame.
“Take your shirt off and put that on.”
He eyed the garment cautiously but complied, unbuttoning his white dress-shirt with deft fingers. There sure was a lot of blood on that shirt, you noticed but somehow convinced yourself that you didn't mind, that it didn't matter, because you truly were in no position to be judgmental. The shirt came off swiftly, revealing lean arms and muted muscles, barely visible in the darkness, and yet you were the one staring unobtrusively this time. The man wore a white undershirt and some of the blood seemed to have seeped through, staining the second layer of fabric as well.
“That too” you instructed and found an old plastic bag in the trunk, stuffing your own blouse and his dress-shirt inside. You would have to dispose of those somehow, or find a way to properly wash them. Until then, you would keep them in the bag.
The man cast an odd glance at you but didn't give backtalk. With one swift movement he yanked the wifebeater over his had and stuffed it in the bag. From the corners of your eyes, you couldn't help but ogle the frame of his torso, the sharp collar bones and lithe muscles beneath pale skin. The combination of his fair skin tone, the blonde locks and the crimson blood made you think of vanilla and strawberry ice cream, and you immediately felt the bile rise in your throat. What a grotesque thought to have.
He slipped your shirt over his head and luckily it fit him well enough. Your gaze fell on his white slacks which unfortunately hadn't been spared from blood stains.
“Take your pants off.”
The man's head whipped around and he regarded you with a long, piercing gaze, but you were growing impatient. With every passing second the chance of someone riding past you and spotting the odd pair of you increased.
“I don't have any pants that will fit you, so we have to get the blood stains out of yours. You can't walk around like that.” You explained on edge and urged him to hurry up with a wave of your hand. Eventually, the man lowered his leery gaze and fumbled with his belt. For a moment, the sound of the buckle jingling was the only noise that filled the muted, nightly silence. Awkwardly, the man slipped his shoes off so he could strip his pants, revealing slim legs.
He seemed uncomfortable, but you didn't have time to dwell on that, so you snatched the slacks out of his hands and dug around your bag until you found a sponge and body-wash which you had removed from the lodge's bathroom. You drenched the sponge with water from your water bottle and a bit of body-wash and started scrubbing the crimson spots on the fabric under the watchful gaze of the man who stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of his hips, even though the shirt was long enough to keep his underwear covered.
“Can I... help?” He finally spoke up, perhaps because he felt guilty since you were doing all the work to get his clothes cleaned.
“Nope, it's fine” you responded and furiously kept scrubbing the fabric. It wasn't working perfectly, but it was better than nothing. The crimson was fading into a light pink that would hopefully not look too suspicious to someone looking from the distance. After several more minutes you finally gave up. It wouldn't get better than that.
“Do you want to put them back on? Or should we let them dry in the car? They're all wet -” But the man had already snatched his slacks from your hands and swiftly slipped them back on, regardless of the drenched patches all over them.
“Can you look at me for a second?” You asked, and he slowly turned to face you, wearing the ever-present wary look on his indisputably handsome face. Knitting your brows, you got closer and confirmed the suspicion that you had had – There were specks of blood on his face too. Thoughtlessly, you reached your hand out to wipe over one of the dried spots in an attempt to remove it, but your found your hand being harshly smacked away from him.
An involuntary gasp escaped your lips when the man wrapped one hand around your wrist, squeezing roughly and bending your arm in an unnatural angle that made you wince with pain. His eyes were torn wide open and filled with distrust, giving him the looks of a hunted animal.
“I'm sorry!” You whimpered, tugging on your arm to free yourself from him, but he kept you in place with bruising grasp. Tears sprang to your eyes, because all your life men had deemed it necessary to touch you roughly, to hurt you when you had no ill intend.
“What were you doing?” The man asked with icy voice, no trace of the sing-song undertone left, eyes darting all over your distraught features in search of betrayal or a trap that wasn't there.
“I-, there's blood on on your face. I just wanted to w-wipe it off” you explained with tear-laced voice. Immediately, the man let go of your wrist and averted his gaze, staring gloomily into the distance. “I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you just like that, m-my bad.”
“No. Go ahead, please.” He turned to face you with half-closed eyes and you were relieved to see that the violent storm inside them had ceased. You gulped down the short-lived scare and forced yourself to reach out for him again. Your thumb hovered over his jaws.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
You carefully turned his face to the side and used the clean side of the sponge to scrub at the speckles on his porcelain skin. His jaws were clenched and his muscles tensed upon the contact, and when you reached further upwards and brushed a flake of dried blood out of his hair, he flinched back but remained silent. He seemed like a person who had never been touched much in his life, who was wary and distrustful of everyone and everything and you couldn't hold his reaction against him.
“Sorry” he suddenly mumbled as you finished cleaning his face and eventually packed the sponge away, stuffing it in the same plastic bag which contained your other pieces of evidence.
“It's okay. We're both on edge. Let's drive on.”
The darkness of the woods slowly made room for rangeland and occasional lights in the distance until eventually you came upon the Highway entrance. The presence of other cars rushing past didn't concern you as much as you had feared it would, and you accelerated up to the speed limit, holding it meticulously. The very last thing you wanted was to get caught speeding and pulled over. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought, but it felt amazing to finally get some miles behind you. You drove in silence for a good half an hour until the man suddenly spoke up:
“Have you ever killed someone before today?”
“No?!” You gasped loudly, head spinning to cast an aghast look at the person on the passenger's seat before turning back to the road. What a fucking grotesque question to ask, you thought, and tensed involuntarily. For a terrible moment you assumed that the man himself had probably killed someone before, but you violently forced yourself to drop the thought. This was not the right time to jump to conclusions, and even if he had, it didn't necessarily matter at the current moment.
The man seemed mildly embarrassed for the unsuccessful attempt of making conversation, as if he wasn't used to that either. You felt his inconspicuous gaze on your tensed body and immediately felt bad for your brisk response, wracking your brain for anything that might ignite a normal conversation.
“Are you hungry?” You finally found something to say.
“No. Not really.”
“Yeah, me neither.” You replied truthfully. In fact, the thought of consuming anything edible at all made your stomach churn. But your stomach also churned with all-consuming fear, with the panic that you had been successfully suppressing until now. Before you could stop yourself, the words came bursting out of your mouth like a fountain.
“They’re gonna know it was me! FUCK!” The man jumped when you suddenly punched the steering wheel, then clutched it so hard that your knuckles turned white, staring ahead with tear-filled eyes and a grimace of anger. At least, you managed to keep the sobs silent, but you couldn't contain them any longer.
“If it makes you feel any better, they know it was me, too.” The man exclaimed with pensive voice, ogling you from the corner of his eyes. You laughed half-heartedly.
“Thank you.” You appreciated his attempt of cheering you up and you were grateful for the fact that he allowed you to cry in peace, not making any weird comments about it.
You reached out and turned the heater on, which would hopefully help dry the man's slacks that had to be uncomfortably damp and cold.
*** Several hours later, spent mostly in silence ***
A weary glance at your wristwatch informed you that it was past 2am and your eye-lids had grown dangerously heavy, dropping lower and lower with every passing moment. After all, you had been driving for hours with only one short break. You could barely keep your eyes open and fatigue came crashing down on you like an imminent heavy snowstorm.
“D-do you mind driving for a bit?” You mumbled, aimed at your quiet front-seat passenger. “I can’t keep my eyes open.” You desperately needed some rest, a power nap at least.
“I… I can’t drive. I’m sorry.” The man admitted, carrying a contrite tinge in his sing-song voice.
“Oh… It’s okay. But I’m afraid we’ll have to find an accommodation for the night then. I can’t drive on like this.” He hesitated for a moment, seemingly displeased with the fact that you would have to stop moving for a while, but eventually agreed with a nod.
It was 3am when you finally came across a sign that said “Motel”. Two of the five letters were broken, so it only spelled “Moe”, which seemed perfect. A perfect, inconspicuous, cheap, dingy place to contain two murderers for one night. In the moment when you pulled up on the place's parking lot, you realized that it was every bit like you had imagined. You tried to be optimistic that no one would steal your car while you stayed for the night.
“Let's go” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes and grabbed your bag from the trunk. “And stay behind me. Maybe they won’t notice your pants that way.” Whilst the stains were no longer crimson and didn't scream 'blood' at first glance, they still looked odd at best.
“Okay.” The man followed you closely, warily eyeing the dimly lit entrance and the wallpaper that came off in moldy flakes. “But I don’t have… money to pay for this.” He sounded uneasy, perhaps a little ashamed.
“It’s okay, I’ll pay. Don’t worry about it.” You quickly put off his worries.
“Oh… Thank you.”
You swiftly approached the languid person behind the reception desk who was absorbed in a newspaper. It would only be more uncomfortable if you staved off the conversation.
“Hey, uhm, do you have two rooms available for the night?”
“Only one room left.” The person slurred without looking up from their reading matter.
“Oh…” You turned around and gave Henry a questioning look full of uncertainty. A part of you hoped he would refuse, suggest that one of you could sleep in the car, but instead he hesitantly shrugged his shoulders, giving his okay. Shamefacedly, you turned back around to the receptionist.
“Does it have, uh, twin beds?” The person finally looked up from the newspaper, annoyed.
“Double bed. Take it or leave it and don’t waste my time.”
“O-o-okay, we'll take it.” you stammered, feeling the flustered heat crawl all over your strained body. What a fucking cliché. You sensed the blond man's piercing gaze on your back when you slid the banknotes across the counter and received the key for your room, which was located on the top floor at the very end of the corridor.
The door snapped shut behind you, sealing you inside a room with a double bed and a murderer. You wondered if another set of murderers had ever occupied said bed before, and considering the motel's sketchy look you wouldn't rule out the possibility.
You wanted to keep ignoring the man's burning gaze which you still felt very clearly on the back of your head and march to the bathroom, but a hand was wrapped around your upper arm, stopping you with gentle grasp.
“Why are you helping me?” The man muttered from behind
“I’m not sure…” You admitted, without turning around to meet his eyes. “Maybe I’m glad that I’m not alone.”
“Aren’t you scared that I’ll hurt you?” He whispered, and it seemed like he was closer than before, hot breath fanning the shell of your ear. Something deep inside you was kindled, and it should be fear but it was something else, something that shouldn't be ignited at the sound of such menacing words. You gulped hard.
“No. Should I be?”
“No.”
“And aren’t you scared that I’ll shoot you?” You forced yourself to turn around at snail's pace, until your eyes were interlocked with his. In the motel room's ceiling light you realized for the first time that the man's eyes were of an enthralling blue which made them seem like two deep pools, drawing you into their alluring depths.
“With that gun of yours?” For some reason he smirked, although you had no idea what was there to smirk about. “So you intend to... use it again?”
“I hope not!” You exclaimed, furrowing your brows, which somehow seemed to amuse the man even more, whose fingers were still wrapped around your upper arm. You didn't mind it. Not at all. “B-but if someone a-attacks us, we might need it!” You tried to justify the fact that you were still carrying the weapon with you. Who were you considering to shoot? The police when they caught you?! The thought alone was ridiculous, because you would finally and inevitably seal your own death sentence if you attacked a police officer.
“We won’t need it…” The man smiled mysteriously and finally let go of your arm. A part of you mourned the loss of contact, shivering although your cheeks felt warm.
You cleared your throat, unable to make sense of the statement, so you decided it was better not to dwell on it. Not tonight. All you wanted was to go to bed and fall into deep, dreamless slumber that would allow you to forget about this waking nightmare you were in.
“My turn in the bathroom first, then yours?” You proposed and dug around your bag for some suitable sleeping clothes, toothpaste and a toothbrush. He agreed, nodding. “I have two old toothbrushes of mine in here. They've both been used previously, sorry, but the blue one is yours if you want it.”
When you emerged from the bathroom, you felt much less icky than before and refreshed enough to be moderately comfortable, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. The man still stood tall and rigid in the middle of the room in the exact place where you had left him, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Like an alien artifact that had somehow stranded on planet earth.
“Your turn” you mumbled and crawled right beneath the covers which thankfully looked clean enough. Under other circumstances you would have been decent enough to offer sleeping on the floor, but you were dead-tired and had stopped caring about anything.
You must have dozed off already, because when your eyes snapped back open, it was due to the sound of the bathroom door falling shut. The blond man emerged from the bathroom, awkwardly carrying his pants in front of his body. They seemed wet, so he had probably attempted to wash them once more. Since there was no chair to hang the garment over, he draped it on the floor. Through the slits of your tired eyes you caught a glance at the white boxer briefs that the man was wearing and the silent question just why all of his clothes were white passed your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by fatigue.
He switched the ceiling light off and cautiously approached the unoccupied side of the double bed, standing rigid and awkwardly, hands clasped in front of his hips like earlier. “Is this... okay?” He asked your permission to get into bed, wearing nothing but your T-Shirt and his underwear.
“Of course” you mumbled drowsily.
He quickly slid on his side of the bed, laying down at the very edge of the mattress, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Whilst he was laying stiffly on his back, staring up at the ceiling, you were curled up on your side, looking at the sharp profile of the man's face which you could barely see, but it was there. Something about him being there was oddly comforting to you. Having someone there with you in this fucking tragedy that was now your life.
“Thank you” you whispered.
“For what?”
“For accompanying me. I don't want to be alone.” It was the last thing you mumbled before drifting off to sleep.
-
You woke up to soft rays of daylight tickling your face and the warmth of a human body. Exhaling an involuntary sigh, you snuggled up to the body closer, firmly wrapping your arms around it and placing one leg on top of the person's thighs while nuzzling your face into their chest. It took you a couple more moments before realization hit you and the awful reality came crashing back in.
The person who held you in an awkward embrace, staring up at the ceiling again - or still - was the killer you had picked up by the side of the road yesterday, after you had shot your ex boyfriend dead.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You finally startled up and quickly scrambled away, ashamed. Just why had you been on his side of the bed. For all you knew you had fallen asleep on the very edge of your own side last night.
“It’s alright. You seemed to be having nightmares and you scooted over here in the middle of the night.” The man explained nonchalantly, carrying the sing-song tone in his voice. He sounded wide awake already and you wondered what time it was.
“I don’t remember that, oh God… You could have pushed me away.” You kindled with embarrassment at the thought of snuggling up to a stranger in the middle of the night.
“But I didn’t mind it. It seemed to help you.” The man's voice slightly wavered, softness in his words. By some strange reason, it reminded you of flower petals gently streaming in the wind, of lush green leafs rustling on a spring day. How could someone's voice sound so alluring?
“Oh…” You face burned and involuntary heat crept all over your body, burning so much brighter and hotter than yesterday, now that you were fully rested and had gained some physical distance to yesterday's events.
“For all I care, you can keep doing it.” The man muttered casually, as if he was proposing nothing out of the ordinary, as if he was asking for directions or for a cigarette. He avoided your gaze, staring at the ceiling. You hesitated, surprised, feeling the beat of your heart up in your throat.
“Wh-what?”
“Come on, I won’t bite you. Be my guest.” He sounded like he genuinely wanted you to come back into his arms, and for some obscure reason you complied. Perhaps it was because of his soft sing-song voice or because you were in desperate need for comfort. Regardless, the thought of being held was too tempting to resist.
Carefully, you scooted closer underneath the blanket and snuggled back up to him, resting your head on his warm, firm chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace that was stiff but not unpleasant. With your ear that was pressed to his chest, you picked out the beating of his own heart, which you found oddly comforting. It helped you melt into the embrace more, allowed your involuntarily strained muscles to relax.
Suddenly, you found yourself being flipped over, so you were resting on the side of your body, facing away from the man who was now snuggled up to your back in spoon position. You felt the distinct warmth of his body along the entire backside of yours, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your arched spine. Your breath quickened as the man's fingertips ghosted over your bare arms, caressing you in soft circles. If the gesture was meant to be soothing, it had the opposite effect on you, causing your insides to kindle with white-hot fire which pooled into your abdomen.
All of a sudden, he softly whispered too close by your ear: “Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you anymore.”
“What?!” You sharply hissed, stiffening momentarily. You had never told him about your ex, about what exactly you had done or he had done. There was a terrified pause in which your blood froze in your veins, causing your entire body to go rigid in his grasp and your breathing to halt entirely.
“You were talking in your sleep.” The man was quick to explain, squeezing your body in the gentlest way. Little did you know that he had been poking around in your head while you were sleeping, wanting to find out if you were a threat to him, stumbling upon various unpleasant memories of your ex instead. He had empathized with the relief and satisfaction you had felt when you finally shot him and punished him for his misdoings.
Oh God, you were embarrassed. You had never talked in your sleep before, at least not that you knew of.
“No one will hurt you from now on…” The man with the soft voice mumbled, pulling you even closer in his arms, melting your stiffness away within seconds. It sounded like a promise and you grew hotter than before, burning with all kinds of heats. “He lied to you, all the time. He deserved it. You should be proud of yourself.”
You weren't sure if his lies were the worst and most punishable of the things he had done to you, but for some reason this stranger's encouragement soothed you, filled you with a grotesque sense of pride because you had finally defended yourself, because you were not weak, like your ex had constantly claimed you were. You must have been talking awfully much in your sleep last night.
“Thank you for giving me a ride yesterday.” The man whispered into your hair.
“You’re welcome. You can ride with me again today, if you want to.” You were desperately hoping he would say yes, because the thought of being all alone in this mess frightened you more than you would like to admit.
“I was hoping you would say that, and I would like to take the offer” he exclaimed, relieved. “But still, I have no money to recompense you. How can I show my gratitude?” You were growing even hotter and couldn't stop the faint whimper to roll off your tongue when he pressed his nose to your skin right behind your ear, sending tingles straight into your aching core.
“I-It’s okay, you don’t need to pay me for anything. I would love to help you.” You stammered, flustered, hoping he wouldn't notice the state you were in. Or perhaps you were hoping for the exact opposite.
“And I would love to show my gratitude somehow. Is there a way how I could reimburse you for the troubles?” The man's voice was as sweet and thick as honey, slowly oozing into your ear and down your auditory canal, worming its way into your brain which was in shambles, whirring and buzzing with arousal.
“O-oh, please, you’re not causing any trouble” you stuttered, sweating. The arm that had been wrapped around your waist slowly slid south at snail’s pace, making your breath hitch in your throat, until his hand was resting on your lower stomach.
“Please, it would be a… personal concern for me to express my thanks.” You felt something hard twitch against the back of your thigh, causing you to inhale sharply. His hand dropped to your hip, grabbing it firmly and pulling you flush against him for you to feel his full hardness resting against your ass. You groaned loudly with surprise and anticipation, feeling the last remnants of your shame and resistance melting away.
“Wh-what do you have on mind?”
The arm beneath your body curled around your chest, pulling you impossibly close and the hand by your hip deftly slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, inching towards your center over your panties. Shortly before the aching spot where you needed his touch the most, he stopped, causing a pathetic whine to roll off your tongue.
“Do you want this?” He softly asked, voice darker than before, caressing your ear like cool satin.
“Yes, I do!” You nodded fervently, automatically rutting your hips into his hand to get the desperately needed friction from him.
“Are you sure?” He inquired insistently, carrying an urgent tone in his voice. “I don’t want to be like your ex.”
“You’re not!” You exclaimed fiercely. “You’re asking permission first. And I promise I do want this.”
He seemed satisfied, and with that he slid his fingers beneath the fabric of your damp panties, dipping them between your folds, seemingly delighted to find them wet and slippery. He commented on his findings with a small, satisfied grunt which sent dangerous tingles all the way into your core, making you clench.
With teasing fingers he stroked through your wetness , causing you to mewl and arch your back into his firm body, demanding more. Eventually, he decided to concentrate his attention on your clit, easily finding it between your folds, throbbing and aching. Expertly, he flicked his fingertips over the sensitive nub, rubbing torturous circles that made you jump in his grasp and exhale a loud moan into the silence of the room.
Suddenly, there was a pale, veiny hand clamped over your mouth, forcing all following sounds to stay inside. His voice was raspy and lust-laced when he whispered: “The walls are thin. Wouldn’t want anyone else but me to hear the pretty sounds you make, hm?”
You almost fell apart, nodding fervently as you mewled into the palm of his hand which was firmly pressed on your face whilst his other hand continued its ministrations between your quavering thighs, pushing you dangerously close to the edge embarrassingly fast. Something about this position felt so awfully intimate, yet tantalizingly anonymous since your face was turned away from his. The combination of both only added to your arousal, heightening it tenfold. The man's grasp on you was soft enough to make you feel safe, but hard enough to give you the feeling of not being able to get away from his maddening touch.
You fiercely bucked into his hand when suddenly he dipped two fingers into your throbbing heat which offered little resistance thanks to being absolutely soaked. Immediately, he set a brisk pace that made you see stars and fervently rut against him as his digits split you open. The man's own hips were softly rocking into you from behind, causing you to feel the hot, hardness in his underwear, pressing into the meat of your ass. Somehow, you knew that the motion was subconscious, involuntary, which only made it all the more arousing.
The pace of his fingers was unrelenting, pumping into you knuckle-deep whilst the heel of his hand pressed down on your clit just harsh enough to make you wince and whine upon each return of his hand. His grasp on your body tightened and so did the white-hot coil in your abdomen, until it finally snapped, making room for all-consuming pleasure which bloomed and unfurled from your center, causing you to see fireworks behind closed eye-lids.
The man's bruising hold choked the air out of your lungs as you came, clenching hard around his rutting digits while incoherent nonsense rolled off your lips. The lack of oxygen made your head spin, but it felt good, it felt absolutely perfect, as if the roughness of his actions was just what you needed at the moment. You willingly gave your orgasm to this complete stranger who had just fingered you better than anyone before ever had.
Slowly, you came down from your high as his crushing embrace slackened, allowing you to catch your breath. His fingers were still buried inside you, stroking you softly while your walls clenched down on him sporadically as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. You whimpered quietly, twitching in his arms and he seemed reluctant to let you go, wanting to keep on stroking you, wanting to hear you make more of those sounds, just for him. And you wanted the same.
“Please” you whispered and he finally withdrew his fingers with a wet sound that made you shudder. “N-no, that's not what I meant. Please stay.” The man seemed hesitant, not quite knowing what you meant. He brought his hand back between your thighs, holding you there, over your drenched panties. “D-Don’t you want… help with that?” You rocked your hips back and felt his hardness twitch against your ass. He seems excited by your proposal, as if he had been hoping you would say that.
“Do you happen to have condoms in that bag of yours?” He growled into your ear, voice quavering with anticipation.
“I don’t” you admitted. “But I’m on birth control.”
“Even better” he snarled and wasted no time. With deft hands he he dragged your pants and underwear down your hips and pulled his cock out of his boxers, swiftly lining himself up with your slick, puffy entrance from behind. He was so quick, you hardly had any time to mentally prepare yourself for the intrusion, but you didn't mind it. You gasped loudly when you felt him prod your center, pushing firmly but the angle wasn't quite right.
You tilted your hips, granting him better access and immediately found your walls being forced apart as he split you open with the length of his cock at one go. A plethora of curses and moans tumbled off your lips when he firmly grabbed you by the meat of your hips with one hand, keeping your torso close with the other, and set a brisk pace of snapping his hips.
“Fuck!” You hissed, clawing at the bare arm that was wrapped around your chest, which only seemed to spur the man more, making him slam himself inside you as fast and hard as this position allowed. You felt so incredibly full, as if his cock was stuffing you to the very brim with each thrust. The air was filled with both of your labored groans and lewd sound of skin smacking against skin, accompanied by wet squelching that made your face burn hotly. Had you ever been this wet before?
Before you could dwell on the thought further, you suddenly found yourself being awfully empty and flipped on your back. You hit the mattress with a gasp, staring up at the man's blue eyes expectantly. He looked absolutely feral now, sweat coating his forehead, blonde locks tousled, brows knitted and pink lips parted with carnal lust.
He seemed so much more lively than yesterday, as if it had taken him half a day to thaw, to unfreeze, to awaken from whatever trance he had been in. You couldn't say you didn't appreciate it, pleasantly shivering and squirming at the thought of this ferocious looking man fucking you apart. He wasted no time and swiftly yanked your pants and panties down to your ankles, discarding them on the floor, quickly followed by his own shirt and his boxers. Meanwhile, you yanked your own sleeping shirt off, which rendered both of you stark naked.
Immediately after, the man descended on you, bending your legs by the hollows of your knees, which exposed your wet, glistening center to him all the more. He stared with awe, hungrily absorbing the sight of you presenting yourself to him so freely, showing off the wetness that was only his doing.
“Please...” You didn't have to beg any more for him to slam himself back inside you, sinking the length of his hard, velvety cock into your waiting heat. He watched himself disappear inside you with fascination, watched how your pussy willingly took his dick over and over again, listened how you moaned and gasped so tantalizingly upon each thrust of his hips.
From this new position, you had unobstructed view of the man's lean torso, of the his lithe muscles that flexed beneath his fair skin while he was giving his everything to pound into you hard, drinking up every ounce of your arousal with dark, lust-filled eyes.
All of a sudden, he removed one of his hands from your shaking legs and reached down between your thighs to stroke your still overstimulated clit. You winced, meeting his gaze with pleading eyes.
“I- I can't, I -”
“Oh, but you can. You're taking my cock so well, I know there's another orgasm you can give me. Or do you not want to give it to me?” He quirked an eyebrow, regarding you with sternness which was probably meant to be playful, but it looked very convincing and you shuddered with arousal, fervently shaking your head.
“I do!” The sudden dirty talk was almost enough to make you forget about the overstimulation entirely.
“That's what I wanted to hear” he smirked and placed his thumb on your clit again, rubbing firmly despite your mewls and winces. How could something be so unpleasant and yet feel so agonizingly good? You had no idea how that was even possible, but you allowed yourself to give into his touch, into his torturous and unrelenting caress that pushed you so dangerously close to the edge of the abyss.
Your second orgasm descended upon you with the ferocity of a lightning storm, setting your nerve ends on liquid fire which seemed to pulsate through whole body as your walls fiercely clenched around his thrusting cock that pierced you open over and over and over again, fucking you through your high until you were a drooling, panting, squirming, brainless mess.
The man lowered his torso on you, caging your worn out, sweaty body in his arms. You didn't resist, allowing him to keep fucking into your aching center however he pleased.
“You want me to come inside?” He cooed, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.
“Yes! Yes, please!” You begged weakly, clawing at his shoulders for support.
You heard every grunt, every groan rolling off his plush lips that were directly next to your ear as he slammed into you, hip bones digging into the flesh of your ass as skin smacked against skin. With stuttering hips and tensed muscles he finally reached his own high, emptying himself inside you with an animalistic snarl that seemed to arise from the very bottom of his heart.
Panting heavily, he pulled out of you a few moments later, and you felt his hot semen leaking out of your entrance, seeping onto the sheets. The man seemed hesitant, as if he was uncertain what was the appropriate thing to do now. He made a move to get up.
“Please, stay” you asked weakly, carefully wrapping your arms around his neck. For a second you were scared that he wouldn't allow it, that he would drop you like a used toy, but blessedly he permitted you to coax him in an embrace, so that he rested his heaving torso on yours.
-
No one had stolen your car over night and you were seated on the driver's seat, hands clasping the steering wheel as your eyes were glued on the sunlit road ahead. Your body didn't seem to be sure whether to revel in the lingering blissfulness of your previous highs, or to flood your mind with fear and panic due to the fact that you were murderers on the run with no clue where to go. The man next to you, however, seemed utterly relaxed, dressed in the same shirt he had slept in and his white slacks which now only showed faint remnants of pink in some places.
A small part of you slightly relaxed when you rolled on the Highway, finally able to accelerate.
“You never asked my name.” The blond man unexpectedly spoke up and you shot him a quick glance.
“Do you not mind sharing it?”
“If you don’t mind sharing yours with me?” You hesitated for a second, but then told him. It felt good.
“My name is… Henry.” Somehow, it seemed like it was utterly liberating for him to pronounce his name, like a weight was lifted off his chest. You softly smiled to yourself. Henry.
“I'm glad you're here... Henry.” You drove on, switching to a Highway that would lead you further south for no particular reason. It was as good as any direction. Perhaps you could go into hiding in Mexico.
“You don’t need to worry anymore. I will protect us.” Henry suddenly spoke up again, being much more talkative than yesterday.
“How do you plan to do that with no money, no driver’s license and no gun?”
“I have my own ways. I’ll show you eventually. But for now… Just drive.”
And you drove.