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His fingers open weakly and his weapon falls from his hands. It hits the ground with a hollow, wooden thump, and then its owner is beside it, landing face-down in a smear of his own blood. He looks up at his adversary, the clear victor, and grits his blood-stained teeth as a sharp pain leaps through his ribs.
“You miserable piece of shit.” The First Zone’s Guardian looms over the Batter, his chest slick with sweat and flecks of blood. Dedan’s face is rigid, lacking the expressive plasticity of the Batter’s human visage, but the Guardian knows the weakling can see the triumphant smile shining in his eyes. “I warned you, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen.” He laughs, a dry, humorless chuckle. “What a god damn joke.”
He reaches downward, spindly fingers closing around the Batter’s neck, and hoists the smaller man into the air. The Batter is so tired, so beaten beyond mere defeat, that he doesn’t even fight when Dedan slams him face-first into the hard metal surface of his office desk. The Batter is too worn, a hair’s breadth away from death at this point, to even care. And Dedan loves it. He loves seeing this haughty worm tossed off his pedestal and brought back down into the dirt where he belongs. It’s delightfully intoxicating, better than any drug, and it makes his cock twitch as his claws bite into the Batter’s soft flesh.
Dedan means to kill the Batter, to squash the little bug beneath the polished heels of his combat boots, but perhaps, he thinks, it might be better to keep the Batter alive. To humiliate him, to teach the little shit that no one messes with the First Guardian without suffering dire consequences. Death is Dedan’s usual answer to such bullshit, but the Batter, he realizes, is special. He’s special in the sense that other people respect the Batter, unlike the other fools Dedan has snuffed out in the past, and Dedan can’t have the Batter ending his legacy in the eyes of the public with a noble death. To end his days by the angry hands of Dedan after purging the world of specters is far too noble of a death for the Batter. He needs to go out whimpering, crawling out into the shit-filled gutters to die alone and forgotten and full of shame.
Yes. Dedan likes this idea much better than killing him on the spot. And he knows just how to do it.
“So, you going to kill me now?” a weak voice asks from below, followed by a gurgling cough. “Or do you not have it in you?”
“Trust me, I’ve got it in me.” The hiss of a zipper. “Thing is, I’ve got other plans for your sorry ass before you die.”
Pinning the Batter down by the shoulders, Dedan leans forward and bites the back of the man’s pale neck. He doesn’t bother being gentle, and he bites until he tastes the salty tang of the Batter’s blood rush into his mouth. To his delight, he hears the other man stifle an agonized moan. Good. Men like this need to be broken so they’ll go to their graves knowing exactly what they are: nothing.
Dedan yanks the Batter’s pinstriped trousers down to his ankles. The guy’s ass is just as pale and bony as the rest of him, and Dedan snickers at how pathetic the Batter looks, sprawled cross Dedan’s desk, bruised and bloody, with his bare ass sticking up in the air.
The Batter moans, his voice shaky with the fear he’s too weak to hide. “Fuck you, asshole.”
A clever retort comes to mind, but instead Dedan merely laughs darkly at the irony of the Batter’s insult as he positions himself behind the other man. He presses the dripping head of his hard cock to the Batter’s entrance. Oh, yes, there will be fucking, but it won’t be Dedan on the receiving end.
Dedan thrusts forward, pushing against the resistance of the Batter’s tight asshole until his entire shaft is surrounded by heat. The man beneath him hisses weakly in pain, and Dedan can tell he’s trying to hold back a scream. He might not be screaming now, but Dedan knows he’ll get some sound out of this little whelp before the hour is up. The very thought of it causes the Guardian’s cock to stiffen in its heated confines.
Tightening his grip on the Batter’s shoulders, blood leaking out from beneath his claws where they dig into exposed skin, Dedan starts fucking him. The Guardian has absolutely no mercy as he pounds violently into the Batter’s ass. With each thrust, the man beneath him jolts and whimpers, tightening every muscle in his body as he fights the pain that must be exploding through his lower regions. It frustrates Dedan that he hasn’t screamed yet, hasn’t made any sounds beyond the soft, stifled cries that leak out through his drooling lips.
“So, how’s it feel, you little shit?” Dedan pants between thrusts. “How’s it feel to be fucked by the better man?”
The Batter’s fists clench and unclench and he takes a sharp breath before answering in quavering tones: “Go to hell.”
Dedan laughs coldly. “You first.”
He locks his teeth around the Batter’s left shoulder and bites down again, drawing more blood and curses from the Batter. The pressure inside him is building, and he knows he can’t hold it at bay much longer. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, the wet slapping of flesh on flesh drowning out the Batter’s pained grunts. Finally, Dedan can’t take it anymore and his body shudders uncontrollably as he shoots his load into the Batter’s ass. He’s still biting the Batter’s neck as he comes, and his teeth clamp down harder as the orgasm surges through him, causing the Batter enough pain to finally release the scream that Dedan has been waiting all this time to hear.
He can barely hear it over the pulsing of blood in his ears, but it’s there; that humiliated cry of defeat, the Batter’s wordless admission to inferiority. Hearing it feels even better than the tingles of pleasure still shooting out from Dedan’s cock.
Dedan pulls out once the orgasm subsides, and he hastily wipes himself free of blood and shit with a tissue from the side draw of his desk. He tosses the soiled tissue onto the Batter’s slumped form. The man moans, but does not get up.
Excellent. That’s how it should be. Barely alive, but enough to know he still exists as the worthless pile of trash that he is. Good enough to be mercilessly fucked, and nothing more.
Zipping up his fly, Dedan leaves the office and strolls down the hallway, whistling a chipper tune nonchalantly between his teeth. Let the janitors clean up the mess in his office. He wants back to Alma.