Till Death Do We Impart |Bellatrixxx & Penitency|

[Bellatrixxx]

The creaking and snapping of wooden wheels groaning under their wagoned weight startled Jasmine from her doze. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the side of the trail that headed towards Gambler's Point, a Dock about another twelve miles east where she had been headed a few hours before. The shipyard there was known to have the odd job here and there for anyone looking to earn credits towards food and supplies, and around these parts that was a miracle in and of itself.

She groaned before sitting up and leaning forward from the tree trunk she had rested her back against. The summer sun was setting, and with a squint towards the western horizon she guessed it was just past 7 o'clock in the evening. Shit. She would never make it to Gambler's Point before nightfall, and there was no way she could survive out here on her own so poorly equipped as she was. Daylight was unforgiving to the Screechers, Crawlers, and Howlers, all slang terms for the infected humans who had somehow inhaled the poisonous virus to become the haunting creatures they were now, so if one was smart they knew to get behind high walls or barricaded doors once darkness blanketed the land.

The infected were just like any other in that they slept, got thirsty and hungry, and knew how to attack and defend themselves. The major difference is the longer the virus infected them, the more their flesh peeled off their bones, the more their brains deteriorated into grey mush until they forgot themselves, the more their base instincts took over and made them more beast than man. They had no sense of self-preservation, often seen running themselves into walls in full strength or straight off cliffs if they were chasing a quarry, and their hunger was specifically for uninflected human flesh.

Back in the territory she had escaped less than a week prior, run by a gang called the Sheets due to the white sacked hoods they pulled over their heads with holes cut out for the eyes, Jasmine had witnessed firsthand the infamous Pits, a punishment the Sheet members deemed necessary by keeping infected ones in deep dugouts only to throw enemies, criminals, really anyone they despised in to be torn to shreds and consumed in front of a crowd. It was a successful tactic to maintain extreme order, as the Sheets were the religious zealots of the fallen world who believed the virus was actually a plague from God. Their methods were cruel, horrific, and demanding as they constantly needed a steady stream of slaves to fill the ranks when they 'cleansed' their population of non-believers, and Jasmine had been one of those slaves just a few days ago.

She had been alone as long as she could remember. The first reports of the virus had happened about ten years ago when she was eleven years old. It had started in California, and living on the East Coast it was assumed they would simply clean up the chemical spill the media claimed it was. In actuality, COVID showed the world how divided the United States had become in recent years, and the Middle East stopped all attempts to make nuclear weapons and immediately set about making chemical viruses in labs. All they had to do was sneak in a highly infectious disease and ignorant, in-fighting Americans would take care of the rest. Politicians blamed the other side of the isle as Scientists tried to maintain order but were ignored. News anchors told the public lies to keep the facade that everything was in control as hospitals were overrun and so many refused to listen to basic guidelines. The United States was ground to a halt in a single year, collapsed in three, and the rest of the world followed in suit with the global economy and travel so interwoven a few years after. Both of her parents died, not from the virus, but murdered by looters who broke into their home late one night. Jasmine was told to run. So she did, and never saw them again.

But that night was only the first of so many horrors that Jasmine had eventually evolved into a woman her parents would never recognize now. The collapse of civilization has never been kind to women at any point in history, and this time was no different. Beaten and raped on multiple occasions, Jasmine's skin only got tougher and thicker, her mind darkening with each trespass by those who tried to find a weakness within. Survival is all about taking first and killing if you have to without hesitation, and soon the sensation of warm blood dripping from her fingers like oil became a very familiar and comfortable sensation. She was a force to be reckoned with, a wild sight that made people hesitate in approaching her. Strong and dynamic, she had an incredibly dangerous curvature to her form that was amplified by the tight clothing she wore because nothing she ever found was true to her size. Her skin was caramelized by the sun as a canvas for her colorful tattoos that decorated her arms, concave belly, and thighs, and her hair...as artificially red as a firetruck. She may have been a sweet girl with big brown eyes who had a love for music and wine once, but those days were long past. Now, when one looked into those dark pupils, they would see a woman staring back who had seen and gone through some serious shit.

Like the Pits. The screams of those tossed in still haunted her, as well as the muffled squeals and grunts of the cages she was kept near as male members forced themselves on the women contained within one after the other. Women. Wombs. A gang was only as good as its numbers, and very often a woman would give them a fresh child only to be tossed down into the dugouts lest she try and flee with her newborn. That was to be her intended new future. Captured on a raid when she unknowingly came too close to their border, Jasmine had woken up naked in the cages, awaiting for when the first round would begin on her body.

Not again. The last time a man forced herself on her body she swore she would sooner slit her own throat than face it again, so when the first hooded drunk stumbled into her cage, reeking of piss and rye-whiskey, and assuming her to not fight like so many of the others, Jasmine had taken her chance. Braining him with his own club that had been tied to his hip, she fled, barefoot and nude through the colony, straight through their water system to swim under the wall out the other side. A shooter from above zinged her right shoulder, firing from the distance as she ran but it didn't slow her down. She didn't stop until air couldn't filter through her lungs, and only when she was wheezing from fatigue did she finally slow down.

It had been a harrowing experience, but she had survived. Finding clothes and some stale rations on a few corpses that had washed down river and onto a bank, Jasmine was dressed and looked a little worse for wear, but she was alive. The boots she wore presently were men's and thus a little too big. Her legs were in old tattered military fatigues and her top was just a plain black linen shirt. One of the corpses had a small stiletto blade but that was the only weapon she had found, and the rations she had taken ran out two days ago. She was walking on pure adrenaline, following reports to a place she felt might be somewhere she could earn some food, when she sat on the side of the road to rest. Her eyelids had felt so heavy that she had drifted off, and that's how the wagon had startled her awake.

It was an older gentleman leading a coarse-haired mule away from the direction of Gambler's Point. He must have come from there. He had a small LED lantern hanging from the cart that swayed, and the mule's hooves pulled it along, the old, rickety wheels traipsing through the muddy path. Jasmine stood up slowly from her spot, grimacing at the pain felt all through her stiff-feeling joints and muscles, and motioned towards him so that he wouldn't be startled when he came up on her. The man grunted but otherwise ignored her, completely fine with walking past her despite her desperate look.

"Wait." Jasmine's voice was hoarse so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Wait. Sir."

The man halted the mule by his reins, then turned back to her with a disdainful glare under grey bushy brows. "What?" Jasmine motioned towards the back of his cart.

"Got any bread?"

The man looked at her up and down, a hungry glint in his eye as he appraised the size of her breasts under her ill-fitting shirt. "Got any silver?"

"No." Jasmine took out her only possession, the thin blade found on the corpse, and handed it in his direction. "This is literally all I have. I just need to get enough energy to reach Gambler's Point."

"’All you have’, eh?"

Jasmine's stomach twisted in a knot as she realized where he was going with this. Instantly her voice hardened. "Yes. The blade is all I have. All I'm offering."

"Too bad." The merchant took out a cigarette, lit it, then took in a deep comforting pull. The sight of it made Jasmine's mouth water, craving its mellowing effects but knowing she could never afford it. "Because I'd be willing to part with half a loaf and a canteen for that pretty mouth of yours."

"No." Jasmine's skin bristled and her heart skipped a hostile beat. She felt her hands shake in fury that he would trade in her flesh but not in steel. It was the same story everywhere she went— women were commodities to bring pleasure to men, not living beings deserving of aid, honor, and respect. She gripped the knife's handle harder in her fist until the brown knuckles turned white. The merchant didn't notice.

"You sure, Red? You'll never make it to the Point. Not like that. Howlers all around these parts and I've got what you need. And it just so happens you've got what I need. Been awhile since I've had somethin' as pretty as you, so how 'bouts you be a good little raccoon and get on your knees before I—ackkk uuhhkkk akkhhh hhggkkk!"

The man hadn't been able to finish his sentence before Jasmine pounced. Her fury had been building, but when he used the racially cruel term against black women of 'raccoon' she had snapped. Tackling him to the ground with a screech, she grabbed the knife in both hands to raise it high, and with the man caught between her thick thighs she brought it down again and again and again, blood spraying all over her forearms and legs as she gouged his eyes out before shanking his cheeks and throat, the action not killing him instantly by any means. Each sinking of the blade into warm, racist flesh had her grunting in ecstatic glee; even a bit of laughter escaped towards the end when he stopped struggling and simply laid there twitching in death throes in the mud. The mule merely looked on, clearly not caring about the demise of its Master nor shocked by the brutal display, likely because it had seen far worse during its lifetime. Only when the merchant's face and neck were collapsed, stabbed almost 30 times, did Jasmine stop. Her breathing was heavy as she remained there for a few seconds, straddling the corpse before moving to stand up. Wiping her bloodied hands on her pants, she quickly moved to the back of the cart to begin rummaging through the contents she had now killed for.

Blankets, medpacks, watches, some shoes...ah, here they were. Jasmine ripped the wrapper off and bit into the ration bar. It's tasted like raisins but the flavor didn't matter. It was just good to have food in her belly again. So she stood there, tearing hungrily into her prize with blood-stained hands as the previous owner lay dead in the middle of the road, illuminated only by the single battery powered lantern hanging from the mule's yoke.

 

[Penitency]

​

Every footstep felt like it took double the effort. Even as the man's boots cut through the countless fallen leaves covering the overgrowth surrounding the main road, they seemed heavier. Harder. The lack of food and water wore on the mind and body like a prodding finger that never seemed to relent; it constantly asked the question 'are you finished yet?' to the weary soul that went without it for too long. To Landon Graves, the man's answer was always 'no.' It had been that way since his youth, and well into the pandemic's apocalyptical effects that saw the whole world go up in flames only to settle in a heap of ash and rubble. Never once did the man fold his hand despite always having been dealt the worst cards at the table.

Born to a mother and father who cared more about their next needle, their next hit, than taking care of him—Landon always found a way to preserve against all odds. That did not mean he always took the high road, either. A drop out, eighteen year old Landon opted for his only route of a respectable career: the Army. It was here he was deployed on a few tours of duty in the Middle East, even if he had a problem with authority. While many claimed those tours' objective was to win hearts and minds, the man always found himself being ordered to do the exact opposite countless times.

It was back home that things took a turn for the worse when an outbreak beyond a mere cough and cold ground things to a halt. Landon's savings, the cash he had accumulated while his apartment collected dust, was lit in a literal bonfire. The panic in people's eyes as they ran toward a government run checkpoint looking for help could chill someone to the bone. It looked like a scene out of the withdrawal from Iraq, and the chaos that played out on the airport there. People handing over kids across barbwire fences, others camping out in front of hesco barriers, soldiers rotating out shifts to keep the hospitals or medical tents from being overrun—it was a shit show of epic proportions and Landon had to roll with those punches, gripping his issued rifle and donning a gasmask before a crowd of civvies.

It didn't matter, because at the end of the day, they were overrun. Landon still woke routinely in cold sweats thinking of how he trained his rifle upon the mad, charging crowd of innocent people mixed with flesh eating madmen that tackled others running for his barrier. He could still feel the chills flowing through his body as his cohorts screamed on the frequency they all shared, telling them to 'light 'em up' or 'don't let them through!' The gunfire was deafening, the screams carried for miles. Landon's bullets tore through women, children, men, and feral monsters that latched unto them indiscriminately; he could still smell the smoke and brutality through the filter of his mask. He still had tinnitus from that day ringing in his ears like a love letter, a scar, or a memory of a nightmare.

Those nightmares weighed on his soul, and warped the already-fucked-up mind of the ex-soldier to this day. He bounced between towns and settlements that were considered safe and cautious; they deemed the man too violent, too brash, too risky to keep in their exclusive little societies of 'innocent' survivors. He tortured raiders for fun under the guise of gathering information, and Landon would typically be the one to shoot first before asking questions at a guard post.

No, maybe he was a raider himself. Maybe Landon was no better than those who raped, murdered, and tortured.

Either way, he'd push his moral compass aside in favor of surviving. And so, he was trudging near the main road leading toward Gambler's Point without actually walking on it. Traveling smack dab on a main road invited trouble: it could spell an ambush or death in an instant. There were times where Landon set those type of traps himself to gain supplies. He had once leveled out a metal wire across a road at head-height, and smiled as someone drove their bike down the road until his wire took the man's head clean off his shoulders.

Too bad that bike had long run out of gas and became a burden to him.

The anti-hero, our sculpted Adonis, was ever onward in the crunch of grass and weeds; his long and smooth gait was full of a swagger not many possessed in these hard times. Given the sun was now beginning to duck into the horizon beyond, the call of the eventual night had the soldier looking for a place to hide. Everyone knew how bad it got during the night, and even if Landon was seasoned enough to brave it, he was also not stupid enough to take such a chance.

But that's when the groaning sound of a cart, and the scoff of a mule's trudging footsteps, hit his ears not far behind. Before he could be spotted, Landon was fast to duck behind a large tree trunk. His black, leather biker's jacket clung to his mountainous shoulders and imposing pectorals that rose and fell with his elevated breathing. The tattoos upon his face and hands glowed under the layer of perspiration that covered him thick. Landon's MK18 rifle had been tied up beside his backpack behind him, empty and depressing. However, he'd be stupid to leave it behind. No, even empty it had value.

Ever curious, emerald green eyes peered from around the bulk of the tree, spotting the mule and it's Master moving on by. The tattered and torn denim at his own muscled and powerful thighs moved with the expansion of their bulk in his stride. A drop-leg holster had been strapped to his right upper leg and housed a near empty Glock 19x with a measly three rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber. Those very rounds had been a gift of his last community that had banned him, tossing him out on his ass with a can of food to go with it. That can was long gone, and the four total rounds were his lifeline.

Before the man could make a move, someone else did. With his inky fingers brushing across the chipping bark of another tree beside the road, possibly the one she had been resting upon, Landon watched the exchange between fiery redhead and racist merchant. Brows narrowed, the weathered lines in his face exposing themselves among the many streaks of soot and dirt, as she sprung up to violence. The situation went from zero to one hundred in a minute or less, but the spying soldier did not seem rather surprised at the fact. He'd wait for it to settle.

When the merchant was dead, and the redhead was enjoying a ration bar, Landon would bring his handgun forwards in both hands. The snap of his sidearm being pulled from the retention pressure of his holster would probably alert her first. A pair of Army issued gasmasks also clamored around behind him, tied to his backpack by a climbing hook and rope.

When Jasmine might turn to face the noise, she'd find the six foot, three inch tall male behind her with sidearm trained upon her chest level. While his vision did not linger long on her ample chest, they did indeed find her own gaze before hardening some with the furrow of his brows. Landon looked like a devil. A devil one could make a pact with and never truly trust what had been agreed upon. The tattoos littering his face and hands, from what could be seen, did not help.

At first, the man could not tell if she was an infected or not, the way she stood there munching on something with blood seeping from her fingers. But he'd come to realize the truth.

He didn't tell her to pause, to freeze, or direct her around like some cop. No, the deranged murderer and soldier motioned to her with the gun extended in her direction, "is there any more in there for me?"

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The ration bar was dry and Jasmine was so thirsty it was getting harder and harder to get the bites down, but her desperate hunger made due as she chewed, and chewed, and chewed, almost moaning at the sensation of it filling her stomach the second it hit. The bars were made of a mix of things that gave the consumer some protein and minerals, and could be sweetened with dried fruits or made savory with animal stock. This one was sweet, and after two days of nothing, was absolutely delicious. She bit her way down the bar, her hands still containing a soft shake from the adrenaline of the murder that had just happened moments before, and her senses were on edge because of it. Even if she decided to turn the mule-cart around and continue on towards Gambler's Point, it would still be an extremely risky and dangerous journey. The past few nights she had been able to find high shelter that had proven to be efficient, but the infected hadn't filled those areas. They collected around groups of healthy people, around the cities and congested areas and used them as their hunting grounds. The closer she got to the shipyard, the more likely she would run into something that would overrun her. And she had never really been a lucky person.

The next second confirmed that fact when a rustling sound behind her triggered an internal alarm. Jasmine, with her right cheek full of chewed ration like a lopsided hamster, spun around to find herself staring down the barrel of a handgun aimed perfectly at her sternum. Instead of reacting in a way a normal person would, perhaps defensively or even pleadingly, she rolled her eyes and made an exasperated sound of frustration in her throat before he had the chance to say anything.

"Are you -FUCKING- kidding me??" She shot out, mouth full as she finally went back to chewing. She had just killed for this small payout, so it was just her bad luck that seconds after succeeding a stranger would pop out of nowhere and potentially claim it for himself. She had escaped infected, gangs, rapists, slavers, even the wild Sheets only to be shot dead in the road over some old trinkets and a few meals. Fantastic.

He waved the weapon and asked if there was anything left for him, which had her pausing again with an arched right brow. Her eyes caught the decorative ink on his knuckles and the back of his hands, but it wasn't until that moment did she actually look up and take in the sight of this person.

He was a man. That was quickly obvious. And incredibly tall to boot. Jasmine didn’t even reach his shoulders in height as her brown eyes seemed to have to sweep higher, higher, and higher before they reached his stone-cold face. He looked well-prepared with multiple dark layers on, some masks clattering at his back, and a massive rifle that could pray bullets and take out twenty bodies in 30 seconds if he had the ammo to do so. His hair was as dark as his skin was pale. Eyes the color of peeled grapes took in the sight of her as she did the same, and they were hollow. Full of quiet rage. He was like any other lone wolf out here, doing what he needed to to survive. Jasmine understood that better than most.

She swallowed her bite and finally nodded to his question. "I mean...yeah. If it'll keep you from shooting me. And if you change your mind and do end up pulling the trigger and wasting a whole bullet, can I at least finish eating? It's damn rude to send someone to hell on an empty stomach." With slow movements, Jasmine raised her right hand to show how she was unarmed, and without turning her back to him reached into the cart, rummaged through the contents with her eyes never leaving his, found another bar and lifted it up to offer it to him. Then, she tossed it across the air between them in a gentle underthrow for him to easily catch it. Hers was now finished, so she discarded the foiled wrapper back into the cart and reached in to grab one of the tiny wild crab-apples she saw. They were hard fleshed and incredibly tart, but as far as fresh foods went, they were perfect.

She didn't care how wild she looked, she was finally eating again, and as the juice from the apple dripped down her fingers she sucked them off, still blood caked and all like a crazed maniac. Her lips were large and full as they wrapped softly around her tips, and her tongue was long as she licked herself clean. The distraction of the stranger's danger and food had her forgetting to check how late it was getting, and when she turned back to the man to ask him where he was headed, or at least where he came from, a sudden high pitched screeching cry ripped through the silence of the evening.

SSCCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXXXEEEEEEE!!!


It came from the south. Jasmine's eyes dilated into pinpoints of horror as she twisted her head in the direction so quickly her crimson hair flailed about her cheeks and shoulders. She looked back at the man, then back in the direction of the warning howl of the infected rising with the sunset to search for warm blood, then towards the corpse of the merchant still laying in the middle of the road. The scent of his mangled face would attract them like a warm pie on a windowsill right to this location, and with only minutes left of sunlight, they needed to act fast.

She bolted towards the cart and grabbed a sack to begin rummaging through it like a madwoman, stuffing indiscriminately everything she could fit inside. Medkits, a hatchet, all the food she could find, and at least one of the blankets were stolen in quick and rushed movements. Another blasting howl erupted across the land, this one louder, and with a panicked bolt she ran towards the old man she had killed to drop to her knees at his side and begin going through his pockets.

"Look," she finally said to the armed stranger as she collected a few silver coins found, a roll of leather, and three loose hand-rolled cigarettes. "I'm trying to get to Gambler's Point but I won't make it tonight. You have some decent weapons. Help me find shelter so we can bunker down and then we can part ways in the morning. I'll share my food here. But we gotta go." Jasmine stood up as the sun was finally set. She unhitched the mule from the cart to at least give him a fighting chance to escape instead of being found leashed to the cart, then unclipped the lantern. The woman then approached the stranger slowly, enough to now be inches from his gun if he still held it up, and lifted the lantern high to shed light on her face as she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

"Now. You with me or killing me?”

 

[Penitency]

The exasperated sound ruminating in the redhead's mouth had the stone-faced survivor before her arching a brow while the other remained flatlined. The subtle, expressionate lines upon the pale complexion of the tattoo covered bad-boy made themselves known as he gripped the pistol between both hands, still not lowering it despite her frustration of being held up by a stranger when she finally got her fill. Her rhetorical question was not answered, and instead, the male kept cool and maintained a slight distance. While her curves and ink could lure him in like a siren to a sailor, Landon did his best to assess the woman first before diving head first into friendship. Besides, she had just murdered the first person he watched her encounter along the road.

That had to say something, right?

"It might," Landon suggestively commented, his voice deep, rocky, and gravely, "but take too long and I could change my mind." Landon's emerald eyes narrowed into slits as he intently watched her raise a hand to show she was unarmed. He knew he had to remain on guard to make sure she didn't pull something on him, but the chiseled Adonis couldn't help but allow his eyes to wander over her like a worshipper at the altar. They followed the generous size of her bust, flowed along her flanks, and flared out with her hips. 'Focus, idiot, finger on trigger, aim on her breasts—I mean chest.' Landon internally mused, but his lips remained fixed despite wanting to crack into a grin. Their eyes locked again when his gaze lifted ever upwards into hers. 'She's got some pretty eyes, too.'

When the redhead lifted a ration bar in the air as an offering, and then tossed it toward him, Landon would let go of the gun with one hand to catch it with the ease of a baseball player. Keeping his handgun upon her with one dirty paw, the other brought the snack toward his lips where he'd bite down at the top of the wrapper and jerk his head in the opposite direction to rip it open. Every action was smooth, calculated, almost robotic in that it was efficiently performed. A bite of the ration had him chewing as he studied her still, and as he did, he'd speak in a muffled tone, "I've never been so turned on watchin' someone eat an—"

That's when the scream came. Landon's eyes moved and noticed the sun was nearly set. They returned upon her with urgency.

Landon holstered his sidearm at the side of his thigh and tucked the remaining of his ration bar back into its open wrapper. The man chewed what little remained in his mouth and swallowed with the shift of his throat. Her fear and sudden rush allowed him to understand she wasn't new to surviving in the open like this. Not even a veteran scavenger wanted to be roaming about at night. The cry of the undead at sundown was like the rooster of old welcoming a new morning. These two were in the thick of it now, and the fact that he lowered his gun and pocketed that ration showed Landon was equally concerned with getting on the move.

"You're right," he grumbled, "we can sort out the details later."

It was here he'd find one of her strengths: looting and scavenging. The girl picked the cart, unhitched the mule, and then scavenged the corpse's body fast. Really fast. Landon brushed a hand across his lips and motioned to her with the jerk of his head in the opposite direction to follow him, "if we were playin' the 'fuck, kill, or marry' game: I'd much rather fuck you. Does that answer your question? Com'on."

With her lantern at his six, Landon began to lead them at the front despite just having met her. She'd be stupid to stick him in the back now, right? The sound of leaves shuffling about his feet echoed as they pushed off the road and up a slight hill, the sound of things ruffling the leaves at their left and right an ominous sign they were close to trouble. Landon didn't stop, but he did check over his shoulder to ensure she was safe and still there. The lantern's glow only extended so far, leaving a circle of growing pitch darkness around them.

"I see something," he exclaimed in a whisper, the sound of a gurgle nearby sounded lethargic and retched. The sight of a rooftop and fence poked over the hill in the dusk, but two stumbling corpses cut in the sightline, now highlighted by the lantern. Landon cursed under his breath, pulled the combat knife from the sheath attached to the strap of his backpack at the right shoulder, and plunged the blade right into the first stumbling, slow moving shuffler's head. Landon's other hand lifted, protecting him from that spray of blood that nearly dotted his face. Everyone knew ingesting fluids of any kind from these things turned you into their ranks, it was important not to get bit or ingest their essence, no matter what it was.

The sickening noise of Landon twisting his blade at the wrist, opening the wound upon the limp and falling corpse's skull, before yanking it out and slicing it's incoming friend was that of a killer in motion. As he kicked the second shambler off with his boot, the blade being flicked clean, he'd motion toward the house on the hill, "over there."

That towering, two story country home was a relic of what was. Overgrowth had long rooted from portions of the house's base to shingled roof. Vegetation looked thick surrounding the first floor, as if promising the residence was empty and unoccupied. Little did they know, the sounds of the undead had Johnny pulling back the sheets of his bed, and standing up on the rickety floorboards of his home at the second floor.

"Somethin' is brewin' out there," the man snarled, grabbing a double barrel shotgun near the post, cracking it open, and slipping in two shells, "don't go downstairs, Sarah." In a pair of denim jeans, the man's heavy gut protruded across the waistband, hinting there may be supplies within the prepper's home as he left his wife in the bedroom and began to march down the steps.

Landon looked for more slow movers, hoping others of the faster variety were not around, before ducking besides the door of the home to hide him from view of whoever might be making their way over. They could hear those clumsy footsteps approaching with the creeks of the unmaintained floor. A man could be heard mumbling to himself on the other side, a weapon clamoring in his hands. Landon looked toward his newest companion and whispered, "put on your charm. Here's our only shot at shelter tonight."

 

[Bellatrixxx]

"Awwwwww, you wouldn't want to drop a knee and propose with a lug nut?" Despite Jasmine rolling her eyes at his comment on fucking her, which strangely enough didn't disgust her to the core like it did with the racist merchant, she fell in obedient step behind him as he led the way through the woods. "I actually think you would look quite handsome if you learned how to kneel..."

She was goading him playfully, beginning that initial dance of challenges when one lone survivor meets another. Could he be trusted? Was he prone to violence? Would he try and force himself on her in the middle of the night? It was a risk to follow him, but the risk of sticking out there on her own was more direct and much, much higher. She was filthy, blood-soaked, wearing clothes either too small or too tight, and had a single blade.

She wouldn't even be alive by midnight.

"Wait up, geez." Jasmine complained as she tried, and failed, to keep up with the taller man's stride. Wearing the clunky male shoes, the rubber toes extended past her own and it forced her to have to lift her legs up higher when she stepped forward. She wasn't so much of a woods hiker, he found her on the main roads for a reason, but clearly he was because he moved through the fallen foliage with hardly a sound. She, far less graceful, barely ducked swinging branches, tripped a few times, and trudged through as loud as an elephant. The later was probably the biggest reason the two infected beings found them, that and the lantern she held aloft that shined across the land like a lighthouse beacon.

"I see something." The gravely voice of the man in front of her broke her concentration, and she almost slammed into his back because she was so focused on scanning the area around them.

"Well then DO something." She snapped back, clearly putting the task of fighting something off on him since he had a small artillery strapped across his person. The snarky comment was met with the choked gurgling sound somewhere in the darkness, and when she turned and raised the lantern above their heads to spread the circle of light further, they were met with the hideousness of two infected humans.

Jasmine recoiled at their stench and horror. Their skin was long gone on their cheeks, exposing the full side rows of their brown teeth and jawbone. Their eyes were coated over like glaucoma discs, their skin grey, and their gait was wide, awkward, and bent forward. They had probably caught the virus a few months before, the average lifespan of those infected between 6 months to a year. By the looks of these two, they were going on their 6-8th month.

Before Jasmine could cry out to her companion to watch out, he sprinted forward, taking the charge head on. A massive blade she hadn't seen him have was shirked out, and by impressive strength he sank it directly into the first and nearest one's skull. It screamed, able to die like any living thing, but it's dangerous blood plastered. She knew to cover her face out of pure instruct, but it turned out to be an unnecessary act as he blocked the spray with his much larger body as he ran through the second one. The knife sank in, anchored with a crunch of bone, and he lifted a long, muscular leg up to -stomp- the beast away. He didn’t seem really winded or shaken by the random incident. In fact, he simply looked around then motioned them towards something he saw in the dark.

"Holy..." Jasmine quickly bounded with him, back to trying to keep up. She was looking at him with a fresh pair of appraising eyes, and one of those new realizations with how incredibly fucking hot he was. "Shit. That was sexy as hell. You just killed two infected in like, two seconds. Who -are- you?"

He had somehow seen a farmhouse despite the darkness looming, and they both made their way closer and closer. It was dark inside, the grounds overgrown and tangled with height, but thankfully the structure itself looked well-kept and sturdy. There was a warm scent in the air, perhaps by a low fire that had been cooking something within the last hour or so, and that gave Jasmine enough of an assumption that people still currently lived inside.

Perfect. Where there were people, there was usually food, warmth, and good, solid walls, and no one shared what little they had these days if they still had a house after all of this time. The only chance she and this stranger had is if they took it, and this was a place worth dying for.

The crept closer, and soon they were wading through a sort of bog that surrounded the house like a castle moat. It was genius since the infected couldn't swim and had an instinctual phobia of water, and Jasmine even stumbled over what she could only imagine where limbs and bodies of decomposing things by her feet as they crossed, the levels reaching their waists before leveling out as they ascended up the other side. They were soaked now, but if the plan came through, they could dry their clothes off by a warm fire and gorge themselves on real food.

They reached the door. Her companion ducked off to the side and told her the outline of a quick plan. She nodded, understanding his idea immediately. She took a deep breath; this part was easy but always irritating. With a glum look as the footsteps came closer and closer from the other side of the wood, Jasmine began to unbutton her shirt and stand directly on the center of the porch as she turned the lantern off. Down, down her fingers went, the shirt slowly falling open and gaping until tits that looked they could feed a man for a month popped out in exposure. They were two equal handfuls with excess that would protrude between clenched knuckles, and crowned by cheery-mahogany colored nipples. She raised her hands high in the air, gave her conspirator a wink off to the side, then immediately switched the expression on her face to terrified horror as if it were a mask she slipped on with ease.

"Who's there!? I warn you, I've got a gun on you right now! You've got three seconds to state your business or I'll—"

"Please! Please, Sir! It's just me. I'm all alone and I'm lost....and, and there's howling!! My papa and I got robbed on the road and I ran and ran! I've got nothing on me! I just need an hour of help, please!!"

Jasmine's voice was the shaking shriek of a weak and pathetically lost woman. The door cracked and out came the shotgun muzzle first, aimed at her face, and that's when she even forced out few wet years to run down her curvy caramel cheeks to seal the look. Her lower lip trembled as her body shook, and with it came the juicy sight of her soft breasts quivering under the moonlight above. It was obvious the man inside was getting distracted by the sight since the shotgun was now lowered the second his eyes got the full sight of her. Jasmine raised her bloody hands.

"I've been injured. Please just let me wash up, I won't do nothin', I swear." She pled as the door opened more, and there stood a potbellied man in jeans, leering at her. He looked fat and unhealthy, but because he probably had a massive stock of ammo when the pandemic first hit, had been able to survive this long. Problem is that sometimes long term survival leads to complacency, and that would be his downfall tonight.

"Hurry in." He grunted, and Jasmine gave a dramatic sigh of relief and stepped forward.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said in a soft, sea-song voice, but the moment she stepped in and was able to reach the gun, the metaphorical mask fell off. She wiped her cheeks clean of tears with the back of her hand, smirked, then growled "Thank you" one more time before grabbing the barrel of the shotgun from his hands, rending it from his grasp, taking a step back while flipping it forward to aim right at the center of his belly, and didn't even hesitate pulling the trigger.

BOOM. Belly matter and visceral viscous and flesh exploded from his torso, sending his large body flying back before landing hard on the floor on his back. It didn't kill him instantly, so she marched forward three steps, reloaded by jerking the forearm back, angled the muzzle at his face, and pulled again.

BOOM. His skull exploded like a firework, spraying shard and brain matter all over her boots and calves. The shotgun only had the two shells so she lowered it while turning her head back to look at the front door and yell back to her companion.

"Do I have to do everything myself??" She bellowed as she hefted the heavy gun like a bat over her right shoulder, her shirt still open with her breasts flashing him when she faced him, looking like Anne Bonny of old on the deck of her ship. "Or are you going to get your ass in here and help sweep the house. I'm killing everyone here even if I have to do it alone..."

 

[Penitency]

Her question had him pausing for a second, the blade held in his right being flicked clean of any excess crimson, but Landon did not properly answer it. Instead, he'd let her words fill that empty 'ego' tank of his and continue pushing forwards in the night. They had no choice—those things were on their trail between the amount of blood she shed at the trader, and the rest dripping off of her body and hands. At this point, they were the bloody bait flailing about in shark infested waters, and now that the sun dipped below the far horizon, those sharks were no longer dormant in their hiding places. No, they were following them until the marsh divided their chase. It was there the undead lingered, groaning, growling, hissing at one another like dogs fighting over the next meal.

Meanwhile, Landon watched as Jasmine began to unbutton her shirt. A hard swallow shifted his throat, visibly so, and the brute was dying to make another smart-ass comment but hushed himself for the sake of this ambush. The footsteps on the other side grew louder, but Landon knew why. 'Who would turn down a pair of tits like hers?' The man internally mused, a grin now beginning to curl at his once flatlined lips like a murderer about to pounce. The wicked and sadistic nature of their dynamic began to spur something within his pulse; Landon could feel his heart hammering behind his rib cage as the adrenaline coursed through him.

Luckily, his busty partner was up to task, and the conversation had him arching a brow and widening his grin. Johnny, on the other hand, was nearly hard while he clutched his shotgun close. His words were all bark, and no bite, given she had disarmed him in her approach. The grip upon his shotgun lightened, one even released it to move upon the door knob that was once locked. The audible click was one of the best things that Landon had heard all year, especially as the howling and screams grew louder in the distance. 'Thank god for that marsh, now focus, it's time to fuck shit up,' he mused again. When the door opened, Johnny led with his shotgun but Landon remained ever quiet, eyeing it.

Landon let Jasmine take the lead in a way to prove herself: if she got blown away by the man with the shotgun, it only proved she wasn't worthy. But why should Landon be surprised that when he stepped in to spring the trap, she was already standing before Johnny with his own weapon in hand. Landon held his handgun out in front of him, scanning for threats, while watching as she took aim and fired. Both of Landon's ears were ringing but he smirked wickedly, observing Johnny stumbling backwards with a gaping hole in his broad and heavy-set chest. A loud scream from his wife upstairs caught Landon's attention, eyes lifting skyward upon the dust falling from the ceiling.

The second shot sent Johnny truly into the afterlife. Blood sprayed about, trailing along the lines of the floor, as Landon closed the door behind them and locked it. The thumps and creaky groans of his footsteps upon the wood beneath them denoted he was approaching Jasmine from behind. Her words had him hissing under his breath, brows narrowed, "fuck you." The tall male didn't just brush by her. No, instead, he walked up behind her while she hefted the gun over her shoulder. One of his hands let go of his sidearm, slipped underneath her arm, and palmed at one of those generous tits of hers. Landon groaned as he weighed that mound in his palm, clutching it from the underside, and gave it a firm, tight squeeze that lifted it toward her collarbone. A deep groan moved within his throat, like a satisfied lion, while he leaned in.

That groan showed he was happy with the size of her chest, how it and the fabric covering it spilled from his hand. She was more than a handful, and he had big, thick hands. While he groped her, his thumb stroking over where her nipple would be, Landon leaned in to bite at her earlobe. His hot breath washed over her neck as he captured it, the front of his hard chest beneath his leather jacket was now upon her shoulder blades. His thick, restrained crotch within denim pressed up against the bubbly shape of her ass as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth, allowing it to snap back on its own after pulling, before whispering, "all you do is fucking talk. I hope your mouth can do more than that."

And with that, he'd let go of her breast. Landon didn't even toss her a look back as he proceeded up the stairs now, handgun at the front of him. The sound of a crying, sobbing, panicking lady could be heard downstairs. Her voice carried, screaming, pleading for her life. However, a single gunshot echoed out, carrying downstairs, and the sickening thump of her own body hitting the floor ended all that. Landon stepped over the wife and cleared out the connecting bathroom, closet, and guest room. One by one, those rooms were swept before he returned to the stairs and tucked his sidearm into the holster at his leg.

When he was downstairs, the brute looked for his companion. The companion he didn't even know the name of, but the one he desperately wanted to fuck.

 

[Bellatrixxx]

She had a feeling she knew what was to follow next. Ever since the world ended the rules to the status quo ended with it. Every day— every minute was a goddamn blessing, and with people like them walking around, shooting those in their own home minding their own business for their resources, and stabbing others to death for upsetting them, every second was a fucking miracle.

Life was more intense with its higher risk, so when her companion walked up on her, Jasmine's prowling instincts shivered with awareness right as his hand swept up her side to gorge itself on the succulent pillowed softness of her heavy breast. The wrappings she wore to give herself some measly level of support did absolutely nothing to hide from him the exact shape, warmth, and sheer size of her filing his massive palm. Her partner in crime lifted it, pulled her body back and close to his, and Jasmine's head fell back against the front of his throat with a soft gasp.

Instant electricity fired through her veins, ignited by a spark the moment they connected, fitting perfectly in the wedged curves of the other's body. Like an oiled cog that slips into the grooves of its neighbor, Jasmine slide right where she needed to be, perfect ass rounded into the shape of his pelvis, back running against his chest, and strands linking around his shoulders like a collection of possessively red tentacles. Her core tightened at his groan —she always loved a vocal man—, and when the sharpness of his teeth snapped at her earlobe there was a hiss of appreciation that escaped from the back of her throat. He released her flesh and whispered in his sinful voice his anticipation to find out if she was truly as perfect as she posed before vanishing and almost making her knees buckle from the sudden disappearance of his support.

The man moved forward calm as a cucumber to begin ascending the steps, acting as smooth and as in control as if half his body's blood levels weren't stuffing his 10lb meat in a 5lb casing. Jasmine wasn't a fool; she had felt a hint of something that would likely be a daunting task but one she was growing hungrier for in each passing nanosecond. She took a step forward as if to follow him and demand he come back and finish what he started, but the scrambling and chaos upstairs of a person trying to hide, and doing it poorly, reminded her that there might be others in the house that needed to be disposed of immediately.

Shaking her head with a muttered curse, Jasmine returned to the more important task than getting laid. Raising the shotgun she still carried like a bat ready to be swung from over her right shoulder, she walked into the living room, checking under the couch and behind the dressers and in the closet while the pleading and wailing began upstairs. She cautiously made her way to the kitchen as the single executing gunshot exploded through the house, signifying another resident of the home was taken care of, and she was checking the sturdiness of the boards that covered the side-door and the windows, making sure they didn't budge when her companion returned down the steps once he was satisfied the top floor was empty of anyone else.

When he reached the bottom step, Jasmine turned silently to look at him. His head was scanning the area until his eyes landed on hers. He had clearly been looking for her as the moment their eyes met, he paused, staring.

Her brows dropped as her gaze narrowed back. They still didn't know each other, still didn't know where the other was going, where they were from, or even what their names were, and yet their exquisite collaboration and teamwork had enabled them to do a flawless home invasion with no injuries in mere minutes.

She should have asked right then who the hell he was. She should have turned around and began to search for food, ammo, and any other lifesaving supplies needed for the road ahead. She -should- have started a fire, or made a move to remove the man’s corpse out of the way. She should have, should have, should have...

But she didn't. The moment those brown eyes touched his green a hunger filled her with the force of a wildfire. The scent of blood filled her nostrils and filled her lungs with air and energy, and before she knew it she was shrugging off the sack of pilfered items from the merchant's cart, allowing it to drop to the ground as if it were old garbage, and then broke into a sprint towards him. He would be able to tell by her wide gaze and parted lips that assaulting him wasn't foremost on her mind, especially now that she dropped her only weapon, and without slowing down she -leapt- up against him, jumping up at the last second to wrap all four limbs around his body, sending him crashing back against the wall with enough force his body dented through the weaker drywall.

Arms around his neck, shapely legs around his hips, Jasmine's soft mouth came flush with his, smooth as silk, and ground deep with her head tilting to the right, then to the left. The battle began, swirling round and round as she forcibly lassoed his lips apart to capture his tongue with her own. Slurping it into her mouth, she caught onto it with a suction motion between her lips, then pulled at it's root as if she wished to swallow it whole. The release was wet and deliberate, and Jasmine snapped her jaws in a bite at the air directly in front of his nose with a sultry grin.

"Take your fucking pants off," came her husky demand as she made no attempt to unwrap herself from his torso, but to remain elevated high off of the floor entirely.

 

[Penitency]

As the man smoothly, calmly, walked down each rung of the frail steps, the thump of his footfalls echoed through the first floor. The groan of the wood boards hinted he was big, muscular, broad, and they hated supporting the near two hundred pounds of the Adonis upon them. The couple could smell the grime and dirt flowing between the silvery slivers of the moon pouring through the patchwork of the walls around them. Landon was brandishing his sidearm before him, wiping some of the blood off of it with calloused and thick fingers before it was holstered once more. Those hungry green eyes lifted ever silently, peering through the darkness that surrounded him as he reached the ground floor. It was obvious he was looking and hunting for his prey and newest companion without a name.

The minute he caught sight of her brown eyes in the shroud of the interior, the woman dropped her things and answered all the questions circulating in his wicked mind. A knowing and welcoming grin cracked at his dried lips. Emerald eyes dropped, watched the jostle of her tits within her barely-there clothing mid-sprint, and then leveled back upwards into her gaze as she cut through the distance and latched unto his hard, almost unwavering body. Jasmine's momentum had his feet scuffing the floor some. Landon's hands were fast to cup and support the generous curve of her bubbly ass as soon as she wrapped herself around him. Biceps and triceps flared, his palms wide, fingers digging into the malleable flesh and clothes now spilling between them as her breast had moments ago. There was no doubt she was stacked with curves, and his hands were the greedy adventurers looking to conquer them.

A deep seated grunt rumbled in his throat the minute he felt his rippling and bulky back slam into the drywall. Landon could feel his shield, his back, bending into the dent they had created and yet he felt no pain. No, his shoulder blades shifted and crested like the waves of an ocean beneath his jacket as he supported her weight despite the odds. Any other man would have faltered, possibly dropped her, or told her to stop. No, instead, she was met with a wicked grin while their faces closed the distance between them. A telling look in those deep green irises would tell the story: 'you're all fucking mine now.'

The tickle of his short-kept hair could be felt upon her forearms. His v-cut hips tensed, squeezing his clothed abdominals together as they were encased by her toned thighs. Landon's own lips feverishly met hers in a series of strokes, each one coming with the toss and turns of their heads as not to crash into one another in their wanton moment. There was nothing shy in how Landon's own tongue tangled and wrestled with her own. The man explored her mouth with his tongue, greedily running it along her upper row of teeth when she invited him in. It was fast on the trigger and returned to hers as he let out an amused, ever pleasured smirk of air through his nose. As they kissed, as their lips touched and tongues fought, the corner of his lips remained in a sadistic grin only someone fucked up in the head could wear.

When she pulled back, snapped at him, and commanded, the brute leaned in to bury his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. He'd bite there, tugging upon her sensitive skin and sending white-hot electricity through her veins. That tug, a hard suckle, created a temporary tattoo from yours truly: a hickey. Landon spun them around, slamming her back into the drywall dent he had created minutes ago. And Landon was not shy about it either, as the dust and dirt kicked up from the impact behind her, filling the already polluted air around them. Not that it mattered as they teased, touched, and groped with bloody fingers. If he knocked her unconcious, he'd merely fuck her brains out until she came back to consciousness.

Keeping her pinned, his chest to hers while her back was upon the wall, Landon's right hand let go of her ass while the left supported her alone. The purr of his zipper denoted what was going, and his button popped with the guidance of his thumb next. It hooked in his waistband, and Landon's tricep blared under his jacket the minute he shoved briefs and jeans down while supporting her with a single hand still. His tree-trunk sized thighs were exposed, ink trailing up along them, and came to highlight the bobbing and swaying cock beneath her. It's thick and fat crown brushed against the underside of her ass and the undoubtedly eager folds of her pussy. Too bad she had those fatigues on, or he'd skip the foreplay and thrust upwards until he was balls deep in heaven. Maybe then she'd understand his near nine inch long length and impossibly wide girth and it's every vein.

Kicking out of his jeans, the man would lean in and hungrily brush his lips over her own before pulling back, eyes narrowed in hers, and avoiding any further contact. He'd tip his head back, shift to the side, all to avoid her lips' embrace or tongue's lure. His face looked washed in lust but controlled, calculated, as he whispered down to her in his rocky timber, "why aren't you on your knees yet? Get down there so I can take off the rest of my clothes. Unless you're all talk? Maybe I should just end you and fuck your pretty corpse. Maybe then it won't talk so much shit." The man taunted, the hand that had pushed down on his jeans now gave himself some firm, solid strokes while the other gripped her ass.

When and if she did decide to unwrap from him, Landon work would on making sure to undo his jacket and shirt beneath it.

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The way he returned her kiss made it clear she wasn’t alone in her feelings. Jasmine had been majorly on her own for almost five years now, wandering from one tragic moment to another, barely escaping death and dismemberment by the skin of her teeth. She had only survived sometimes by sheer will and stubbornness alone, for few understood or appreciated her exact degree of mental deterioration.

But perhaps this one did. Most people would have balked at the idea of killing a long-standing couple in the area. Most might have even shot her dead in the road when if they had walked in on her stabbing the merchant's face to an unrecognizable mush. And almost anyone would have shoved her clamoring body off of them if she had leapt on them like so, still bloodied, still surrounded by corpses, still very much in danger.

Fuck all those weaker people! His lips were slightly smaller than hers but by the way he responded to her, they never faltered from her attack. He moved with her flawlessly, opened when she did, closed, tilted, lingered, pushed, pulled, and relented all with her in a perfect tango that had her womb twisting in anticipated knots. This close and personal, Jasmine quickly came to understand just how -big- he was. He towered over her naturally almost by a full head, and even now holding her in the air there was no shaking under her weight, no struggle to keep her aloft. Jasmine was a stacked doll full of muscle and solid bone, he theoretically shouldn't be able to cradle her in his hands like he was with the ease he seemed to have. But he was, and it only compelled her to tighten the hold her thighs had around his waist, only pulling and wishing to be closer.

The scent of death lingered on both of them and their individual murders; she had a heady aroma of copper, moss, and floral sweetness while his was more a hard bite of leather and lead with a hint of of the fear and panic he inspired in others. Jasmine couldn't get enough of it. His wildness and unpredictability spoke to her on a primal level, like she understood him despite her lack of formal knowledge, but those details didn't matter. On the wavelength of physicality they understood each other perfectly, and she ached to feel the stuffed filling of a man who finally didn't shy away from her mania.

He seemed ever amused, in fact, by her aggression, forwardness, and attacks. At her command he simply responded by ducking his head into the warmth of her neck and marking her, gathering her skin into his mouth to pull the blood vessels there and break them into a gorgeous circular brand that would take days to fade away. There almost wasn't a pain in the world that would stop her from taking what she wanted in that moment, the tingle of blind need that exploded from where his mouth connected to her sent to every zone in her body. Her nipples hardened to peaks against his chest, rubbing through the fabric and becoming engorged with sensitivity. Lust filled her bloodstream and warmed her skin, especially her cheeks, into a stunning rose under the natural caramel hue, and her pussy— fuck, she could feel the pulse of her pounding heartbeat all through her core, melting with each passing second and already flexing inward on nothing, tightening its muscle, furious at its current emptiness. When he rotated, proceeding to slam her into the dent his hard back had created, Jasmine let out a forceful huffing grunt upon impact. She wasn't as 'hard' as he was, so her teeth grit in a soft grimace as pain blossomed across her back and at the back of her skull. She saw stars for a moment, but they faded quickly. He would have to do much...much more if he wished to take her out for the count...

Both hands raised up to grip at the back of his head as his hair there far too short to grab between fingers, and a smear of still-wet blood from her palms decorated the back of his neck and scalp like a priceless canvas. With his face in her neck she could focus on what he was doing beneath her instead of trying to capture his brutal kiss again, and with a shiver she heard the unfastening of his jeans before the tell-tale thunk of his cock sprang up like it had hydraulics built into its base. Jasmine internally cursed at her clothes in that moment; she was soaked enough that he could have sunk her on that thing right there, and in this position she would have felt him in the back of her throat. Perfection.

He kicked off his pants, jostling them slightly up above as he maneuvered his footwork to become naked below, and finally lifted his face back to hers with a teasing motion forward. Jasmine parted her lips in anticipation but he only brushed their soft surfaces together before pulling back. She frowned, leaned forward for a kiss, but he turned his face to the left to avoid her seduction and her lips landed on his cheek. So began a cat-and-mouse game of her trying to kiss him, to take control, to win the next round, but he kept denying her, dodging her. The first touch was met with a giggle from her, enjoying the game at first. The second time he denied her and she met his face, Jasmine licked at the offered cheek, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin. The third time she growled, growing impatient, and her hands tried to capture his skull and keep him still as her greedy mouth strained for his. He was still stronger though, so with bratty retaliation like a child who was denied a piece of their favorite candy, she bit at the sharp curve of his chin before sending that furious little pouting expression up at him when she finally submitted and calmed down. Only once she went still did he look at her with that cool and calculated expression of his, a look she was already becoming used to from him, the victory planted deep in his emerald eyes, and Jasmine had the sudden inkling to slap the shit out of him. Next time.

His voice was like rolling thunder only for her ears. He didn't have to yell or scream to make himself heard and obeyed, there was simply something in his aura that demanded such. Unlike the vast majority of women who are threatened to be murdered by a guy they were about to fuck, when he voiced that there were a few benefits to simply fucking her corpse, namely that her corpse would give him far less attitude, Jasmine actually laughed in a sight of pure warm amusement and mirth. It was funny to her, a joke, and her teeth showed beautifully in her light laughter. She was fucking crazy, but that was okay because so was he. They were just different arms of it, he being the measured, cruel, calculating quiet before the storm, she being the storm itself, a wild blustering tempest of outward fury and explosive passion. Yin. Yang.

At the end of her laughter, Jasmine surprisingly released hm. Her legs fell to the floor first and once she established balance her arms unwrapped themselves from his neck and shoulders. "I'm sure I'd find a way to still piss you off in death,” she retorted back as they both began the hurried motions of undressing in front of each other. “Even if I had to come back simply to haunt you.” Digging her heels into the other boot to kick them off, her fingers made quick moves of the zippers and buttons of her fatigues. Once loosened, Jasmine hooked her thumbs into the waistband and shirked them down her soft and inviting thighs.

Like his body she was tattooed most everywhere as well. Calves, front and sides of thigh, belly, collarbone, and arms. His were just as colorful as hers, his beautiful ink stark against his alabaster skin, her beautiful ink complimenting the bronze in hers. In seconds she was naked waist down, and with her shirt still opened in the front, he would see the majority of her figure.

Jasmine was a shortstack bombshell who seemed to only become more beautiful the darker and more sinister the world became. From her inked concave belly with its slitted naval in the center, across the soft and completely hairless mons and lips of her pussy (the Sheets shave their slaves upon capture), all the way down to her pretty little feet, she stood before her intended fuck-mate as she gawked at him.

He was probably more beautiful naked than clothed. Now without the shirt and jacket to hide it, she got a full view of just how heavily strong he was. Muscles moved under his artwork, his abdomen was taut and cut into rigid sections, and his legs were as long as a foggy Monday morning. But what really had her zeroing in was the part of him that made him unquestionably male.

"Jesus, fuck." Jasmine blurted out at the sight of his cock. It jutted forward from his body and seemed to point at her in an accusatory manner for its current state. He wanted her on his knees? Yeah, she could understand why. A man like this needed, really deserved to be worshipped until her jaw gave out, and Jasmine's mouth watered as her hands flowed to the front of his tapered hips and her knees bent, lowering herself into a kneeling position before him. She knelt on the hard, dusty, blood-soaked wooden floorboards without a care in the world. Her eyes were staring, fixated forward as she licked her lips, and quickly she pulled her shirt off the rest of the way, now naked except for that band that kept her tits high and tightly contained against her chest. "Yes, yes, yes..."

His balls looked swollen, the skin of his scrotum growing taut as they drew upward, and his cock looked as if it were carved out of polished pink marble—rock-hard and glossy, with a network of delicate blue veins, the glans inflamed a deep, purplish red. Pre-ejaculate oozed like syrup from its tiny slit, threatening to drip over the curve of the mushroom head and fall wasteful to the floor, an exquisite sight. Jasmine, never one to waste a thing, eagerly leaned forward, and using the pointed tip of her tongue, dug into the piss-hole and scooped that sample out for herself.

His scent was stronger here, of course, a savory sweet musk of masculine heat, but it was nothing compared to the succulent saltiness of his milk coating her tongue. Jasmine groaned and her eyes fluttered as she got more comfortable on her knees, and raising her right hand up she curled her fingers around the center of his girth and lifted it up against his belly. She didn't look up at him, clearly not looking to be distracted at the moment, only came forward as if in a trance, and with mouth wide open like a whore's she enveloped his sack into the warm wet cavern of her mouth.

Eyes closing as if savoring a favorite meal, Jasmine sucked both of his balls through her mouth, her tongue making long, lazy strokes across the seam as the prickles of his dark hair crisply tickled her nose and chin. Moving her face deeper until she was pressed up between his thighs almost entirely, her left hand slid up ever so gently along the hardness of his thigh, fingers stroking over the dark art there as she actually began to purr. The vibrations were decadent as she licked, slurped each side, suckled, and moved back and forth, even plopping the sac from her mouth entirely to kiss each balled weight, really displaying that she loved exactly what she was doing.

"What a stud you are," she whispered, stroking deeper and further under, even nuzzling her nose against his wet skin so her mouth could worship at his perineum, the taut dermal stretch of skin between his balls and ass. Jasmine tested the waters, sucking in a bit of the skin there to nibble it lightly, to see how he would take it before leaning back just enough to now go after her main prize that she still held in her right hand. "Guns. Efficient. A cock as big as your fucking ego," she listed off his 'traits' as she rubbed her face against him. "Careful. I might not let you leave without me..."

Then, without any further preliminaries, Jasmine's wide tongue struck out. Starting at the bottom of the underside, she pressed hard and licked the ridge firmly up, up, up until she reached the tip. She didn't stop, but rather lowered him down while simultaneously rising up over the curve, and in he went, gulped down her mouth and throat until about halfway down his shaft. His soft head hit the back of her throat and Jasmine gave a small heave at her abdominals as she gagged, clearly not used to a man his size and -clearly- needing to be trained to take him down her esophagus proper. With loud slurping sounds she retreated backwards, pulling her lips together and sucking her own saliva off of his skin until she fell off. Her mouth puckered up in a kiss and she smooched the helm as if she loved it already before opening wide again and going for it a second time.

Silver tendrils of spit dripped from her full bottom lip as she pushed her limits again, the choking sensation increasing the silky lining along her throat and cheeks. He was exquisitely thick, and her tongue swept back and forth over the veins that fed the angry thing with hard blood as her head began to bob back and forth. Jasmine was sloppy, but incredibly efficient with the suction she implemented on him, all with the avoidance of any teeth. He was still too big for her to take down on her own, going easy on herself there, so bringing both hands up she came up for air and spit into both of her palms. They both then came to grip him boldly.

"You can call me Jasmine," she said in some form of an introduction, her voice husky from her work before she continued. Right hand wrapped at the base, left hand directly on top, the woman began to twist her wrists in opposite directions, rising and falling up the length of the shaft as her mouth took care of the top half. Using her hands as an extension of her throat, she fucked him there on her knees, almost with such specialized intent as to try and make him climax fast and first. She may be kneeling in front of him like a penitent worshipper before the alter of her God, but who -really- was in charge when one was lost to the submission of the 'little death' only extreme pleasure could muster? The wet sucking sounds of her blowing him filled the death house. Her thumbs, ever looking for an opportunity, both pressed at the under-base of him like two little button pushers. Pulling her head back a few inches until only his tip remained in her mouth, Jasmine tickled and dug the tip of her tongue into that delicious fleshy V under the helm while both thumbs began to massage in micro-circles up the shaft. Up they traveled from the base, pushing in their maddening circles as if encouraging the flow of his seed upwards to be fed into her mouth.

That's when she looked up at him. That's when, with big brown eyes, did she finally make eye contact with her lips pouted around his tip and her fingers testing his resilience.

 

[Penitency]

"I don't doubt it," the man grumbled with a murderous grin still curling at his lips, "you seem the type to get attached real fast." Again he joked, bantering about her comment of how she'd haunt him at a minimum if he were to kill her right now. The man's eyes undressed her all the same as they flowed with the movements of her hands. Each curve, every inch of her tanned and beautiful skin, was admired under the lack of interior lighting. Hell, the shadow of the first floor almost gripped her, washed over her body like some jealous lover and third party. But it was that lack of light that almost made her curves look that much more, and that same fact worked upon the towering survivor before her.

Both hands pulled back back on his jacket after the zipper was completely undone. Such a simple action opened his large chest and forced his defined pectorals to streetchh in conjunction with his mountainous shoulders above. Landon's thick and wide neck looked longer as his arms moved backwards, the head upon it tipping back arrogantly as if telling her she had to worship him as more of his body was revealed to her. Carelessly, his jacket was tossed aside, falling upon the pile of his jeans, holster, and handgun. His backpack had been one of the first and leaned against the rickety, peeling wallpaper. With the scent of blood and death on his nose, the man eyed her while grasping the hem of his shirt. Brows narrowed, twitched, with interest while he peeled that shirt upwards, exposing the lined divisions of his abdominals and the deep cut of his hips squeezing them together.

The faint outline of his ribs, covered in deathly ink, flowed toward his grandiose pectoral muscles. His hair, wild and untamed at the top, shifted with the brush of his undershirt's collar. Given his sides and rear of Landon's skull was shaved down in a fade, one in which was self-practiced, the man could feel the blood from her fingers still trickling down toward the rear of his neck. He had still been grinning over denying her additional kisses, but he could feel the bite mark she left behind tingling on his iron, sharply cut jaw. Landon knew she had work to do, a better service to be had, than kissing him. Those thick, pillowy lips were made for more. And so he stood, that proud cock bobbing and swaying without support, as it was tall and assured before the backdrop of his six-pack.

"Good fuckin' girl," the man praised crudely, his head slowly swaying to one side as he admired her with his eyes still, frustrated she decided to keep the bundle of fabric mashing her big tits to her chest. They were dying to be freed. It was obvious the brute loved her cockshocked mannerisms and surprised words. Her hands made his hips and abs tighten, shifting inwards, and collapsing the once ever obvious lines into something tighter. A brick wall of definition was before her, and his jutting cock eagerly twitching, dripping with his thick pre-cum, was the bold attention getter she might have been desperately missing her whole life. Luckily for her, it was more than inviting of her touch.

The immediate touch of her tongue had his thighs flexing, expanding, and one hand mashing into the dented wall far above her for balance. With his palm pressed hard to the wallpaper, his bicep bulged and pectorals tightened up at their corners. A deep and audible breath could be heard through his nose as she curled a hand around his center and pressed back, only to give her more room on those heavy, dangling balls beneath. Landon groaned in his closed mouth, head rolled back now, eyes closed but upwards directed upon the ceiling. "Mnh~" the brute let his groan linger some as she lavished attention to those aching balls; Jasmine might be able to feel the seed building in there for her as she used mouth and tongue. The seed that was only for her.

It was here that she'd find his scent, the sweat, and grime of their harsh reality, but it was less than that on his face and arms, of course. Landon's balls were lightly, sparingly, haired while most of his body was naked of it for the most part, allowing his tattoos to spotlight themselves instead. The hums and groans of her delight rang through his bridging cock and radiated into his core. Those six-pack abdominals tensed, squeezed, as he rolled his head back again at the feel of her lips and the ego boost of her words. The towering murderer licked his lips to wet them and responded back, "who said I was going to let you leave, woman?"

That's when she dipped low, caressing his perineum, forcing his balls to drag over her face, Landon gasped out. His free hand not gripping the wall went to cup the back of her head, gripping in her spill of red hair, but released when she pulled back. Just as he was about to protest her from withdrawing, the man groaned out as she slipped her lips around him and sunk toward his washboard lower abdominals. "Fuck~" the man reeled, toes curling against the floor, as he cursed under his breath in a barely audible voice, "those fuckin' lips feel good as~" He couldn't even finish that as she slurped, pulling back and plunging in again.

As she spat on her hands, the man smirked at the announcement of her name, "right now you got more important things to attend to, Jasmine. Don't worry about my fuckin' na~ oh shit" Her name came low, deep, patient with his words. The hand that had cupped her head tapped the whole side of her face a few times, not slaps, but love taps. Love taps that were hard enough to make her see some dots before it swept her hair back into a tight, firm ponytail. That makeshift ponytail was grabbed at the very root, but did not command her. The twists of her hands, the latch of her lips had him arching his back, tensing, pushing his abs further into her view like an imposing order.

When their eyes met, she'd see the lust and need within his irises, but they remained calculated and controlled. The lewd sounds of her sucking would subside a touch the minute he knew his balls were tightening, a rope of cum shooting into the back of her throat without warning. Landon's hand behind her head tightened, pulled her back some, and forced her to return to pumping him with both hands while merely kissing his cock. It was all so he could directly shoot right into her mouth, and watch her facilitate that as he finished. A hard, deep, groan at the back of his throat lingered as his head hung between his shoulders, eyes on her, lips subtly opened. The hand on the wall tightened.

Hard rope after rope, the brute began to shoot himself across her tongue and into the recesses of her throat, his cock throbbing and wildly pulsing her hands. As he gasped, her hands working to get every drop, the hand behind her head released to plant on the wall. She had been used to facilitate his orgasm, and yet, Landon did not feel bad about being selfish. He'd eventually fuck her, give her what she needed, but right now, she merely got a simple response, "and my name's Landon. And look up while you fuckin' swallow, baby." The man reached down to pat at the side of her face again with those dot enducing taps before it cupped her chin and cheek.

"Open, let me see you swallowed."

 

[Bellatrixxx]

Mmmmmmmmm, Jasmine purred at the sound of her juicy name in his voice, laced with lust and the warm hum of pleasure. She felt every twitch, every flex his thick shaft made in her mouth, and like a bratty little child when he held her hair up bundled in his fist she ground down, forcing him to have to slightly tug on the strands if he wished to stay latched. He chided her with his slaps, and Jasmine gave a naughty growl, pulling her lips back in an aggressive threat as if she were to retaliate. She didn't. Instead she remained on her knees, sucking hard enough that her end goal must have been to slurp the shade of his cock to a lighter color, eyelids fluttering and flinching whenever he gave her a humbling "tap".

She didn't think he knew how gorgeous he looked curving his back, his abdominals and chest dancing with tension under his dark ink, all supporting such a look that seemed so calculating, so in control despite the way his thighs hardened as she milked him in a suspiciously centered way. Her tongue's tip dug strongly into that V groove before sweeping counterclockwise so that the entire circumference of his helmet felt every textured angle her tongue possessed. Round and around she went then "slllllmmmmmmmmfffffff" came the wet vacuum sound of her slurp-sucking his sanity out from his cock, the force reaching down to his balls.

Warmth splashed the back of her throat, and Jasmine flinched, not expecting it to happen so suddenly, almost without any warning from him. She swallowed the first gushing rope before feeling her head pulled back by her hair until she was off his flesh, only holding him upright in her hands. Her lips were open like a tunnel as his slit flexed wide for the next load. His pelvis heaved a degree, and Jasmine extended her tongue out like a bowled mat, gently cradling the tip's base so he could cum across her tongue. Line after white line was drawn across the dark pink, wet surface, some stretching out of sight down her throat. He tasted blissfully bland with a hint of earthy saltiness, very palatable. Her thumbs continued their circular massages up and down his base, as one would pressing a straw upward to bring up the last bit of milkshake up to their lips until no more came out. The man released her hair finally when he was done, sighing deeply before introducing himself. Landon.

Jasmine closed her lips to swallow the load he had deposited all along her tongue and cheeks with the full intention to swallow, but then he smacked her before cupping up her jaw to force him to look at him with the command to prove her obedience. If he hadn't been so bossy she would have done it naturally, being the internal slut she naturally was, but now that she knew it's something he liked and wanted to see??

Absolutely not.

Twisting her head to the right yet not really fighting the grip he had on her jawline, she collected everything on her tongue and -spat- the balled, saliva-soaked seed onto the floor in a transparent splatter on the filthy wooden floor. Then, like the wickedly insane creature she was, cackled like a witch at her audacious little rebellion.

"Landon, Landon, Landon," She chided him like a child yet still licked her lips of the flavor of him. Jasmine remained on her knees but her hands finally released his manhood to stroke down the hard sides of his thighs. As she spoke she touched him, felt him up, even going around to his backside to grope the globes of his ass, each cheek in each hand. She gave him a little squeeze as her face pouted in a mocking manner. "Has it been awhile?" She questioned sardonically, referring to how fast she had made him climax. "Or maybe your first time?" Jasmine gave a nod as if that last sentence MUST be the reason.

"Yeah....that would explain a lot, wouldn't it?" Jasmine gave another giggle then leaned forward to kiss his wet tip. "Too bad. I was looking forward to taking a ride for myself. I mean, I took my fucking pants off for a reason..." Then, true to form, she moved her feet to stand up between him and the wall still at her back, his arm cutting her off on one side that was still braced against the wall. She gave his swinging shaft a "love tap" herself with the back of her hand, careful to avoid his sensitive balls, but enough to likely make him grunt from the impact.

"Move. I'm going to look for food and maybe check to see if this asshole's wife had a third drawer so I can take care of myself. Ohh. Maybe she has a big black dildo I can use to teach you how not to be such a two-pump little bitch. Wouldn’t that be nice, Landon?”

 

[Penitency]

Their eyes met, and Jasmine was quick on the trigger. Landon watched, hand mashed to the wall far above her, his body tense and tight, as Jasmine turned her head and spat everything she had collected from him upon the floor. A large puddle of saliva and seed trickled through the floorboards, and the towering Adonis before her seemed equal parts insulted and amused. A hard swallow visibly shifted his smooth throat, the ink drawn into his stacked muscle loosened some as his palm pushed off the peeling wallpaper so he could stand on his own accord. If it was not already obvious: Landon was dealing with a brat of epic and murderous proportions.

Given this was all a part of a game, a struggle for loyalty and obedience, the brute didn't take this as harshly as he would have with a traditional lover. No, he actually stood with that lazy and arrogant grin upon his cold lips, head tipped back, while the shadow of the interior washed over his pale complexion and filled in the spaces. That ever sadistic grin spelled so much without a word uttered from his lips; those eyes could be seen shifting left and right as they scanned over her face and picked up on her taunting words. Nevertheless, Landon knew he had won because he had been the one to get an orgasm for the first time in... well... it's been some time at the hands of a woman.

Thighs flexed against her fingertips as if she had just prodded him with a jolt of electricity. Landon's hard and rounded backside tensed up in a ball of solid muscle at the beckon of her palms and fingers latching to them. Every squeeze was resisted, pushed back against unwavering mass. Her words had him licking his upper row of teeth while mulling over the truth. "It might of well have been my first," the man mused in a selfless bout of self-depreciating humor, "lets say it's been a minute, let alone by someone as good as you, baby girl." There it was: a crack in Landon's armor; a hint of truth to add a notch of ego in her tank. While he knew he had to approach her in different methods than most women, he also wanted to build her up, too. Jasmine deserved it. She was a Queen among peasants now-a-days.

Her words didn't earn a response, but the kiss upon his crowned tip had his dick twitching once more, as if begging for her to go again. The brute stepped back as she stood, brushing a hand across his lips while eyeing her still. The hand upon the wall returned, cutting her off from one side of the house. Her words had him snickering, low and barely audible, which had those mountainous shoulders lifting and falling like the devil himself. The love tap had him grunting, biting down on his bottom lip, as he let go of the wall again to truly back up and give her some room. Her words had him arching a brow, "nice is subjective."

Landon wasn't about to throw her around for being mouthy, or hit her for telling him he was a 'two-pump little bitch.' Nah, instead, the self-assured and tattoo covered Adonis stepped over toward his pants and jacket in a puddle across the floor. They were tossed upon a table, but he never got clothed. Instead, Landon fished for his pack of smokes and a lighter. He'd make sure his rolled joint was in a baggy before stuffing that away for another time; it was his last one left. Slipping the unlit cig between his lips, the man cupped a hand before it and spurred the lighter with the stroke of his thumb.

Smoke billowed, puffed, from that cupped hand and danced before his inked face. Brows narrowed as he dragged, the orange glow of the cigarette bouncing off the walls. Tipping his head back again, the demon behind her exhaled while lowering the cigarette. His other hand swatted at that nice, round ass moving about as she passed him for the kitchen. The echo of his slap carried, but he'd not linger. Instead, the naked and confident male stepped up before the dead male in the first floor and eyed him, tipping some ash over his corpse. As he dragged from his cig, the man casually walked up the stairs.

When he was at their peak, he'd begin to look for some supplies or clothing in the closets. Whenever Jasmine decided to join him, he'd extend his cigarette to her in mid-rummaging of the walk-in closet, "you're lucky I am sharing. I am running low on these, and down to one joint. I guess you knew the key to my heart: suckin' dick." The man teased, lips flatlined nonetheless.

If/when she took it, he'd go back to pulling drawers and moving hung clothing about, checking for his size. Whatever he could use as clothes, bandages, or what not.

"You kill your last partner or some shit? And back on the road when we first met... was that just for some food or what?"

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The mix of emotions she felt suddenly were...strange.

Jasmine was a bit of a psychopathic masochist. She knew many of the things she did to survive were wrong and often unnecessary, but the levels achieved of pride, ecstasy, and pleasure were unreachable any other way. She loved pain in equal measures, dealing it out as well as feeling it on her skin, so when she challenged Landon, attempting to trigger him into acts of rough sensual violence, her muscles and skin tingled in anticipation for his delicious retaliation.

He had already slapped her quite a few times, revealing that he knew the game expected to be played. Despite commanding him to move, she didn't expect him to actually -listen-. She had expected him to shove her back against the cratered drywall, hook her legs over his arms, and pound into her cervix like it owed him money. It might be hard to see in the present, but her nipples were aching against the banded fabric that kept them hidden currently, eager for the next round. More than ready.

But nothing happened. Instead, he eyed her, smirked with those knowing lips of his, found amusement in her response, and slightly bucked at her backhanded slap on his still saliva-coated meat. Then, Landon stepped obediently aside, which forced her to go through with her own threat of exiting his vicinity, which -really- pissed Jasmine off because he had called her bluff. She hadn't wanted really to move; she had wanted to incite him. And it hadn't worked. Was he dumb? Had the challenge gone over his head as he stood there, selfishly completely fine that she had pleasured him and now had to go on with her night? Or did he know all along and was just being a sadistic prick, seeing right through what she was doing and refusing to be pulled on her spoiled little strings to dance on her marionette?

~"Hurt me", begged the masochist. "No", grinned the sadist.~

Whatever the reason was, Jasmine was still irritated, so when she pushed off the wall she made sure, on purpose, to have her right shoulder bump against his as she brushed past him. Huffing away with visible and a little audible irritability, she walked, practically naked, across the living room. Stepping over her clothes and the corpse, the woman's shapely colorfully-inked legs gave way to the soft rounded curves of her ass. While she was toned around her arms and belly, there was undeniable softness around her thighs and backside. Each globe gave a single little jiggle, the flirty snake that was there on the left cheek wiggling with each step as she strutted around like a pocket sized cinnamon goddess, and her hair swayed down her back like waves of flames. Jasmine clearly knew how to find food in this hellscape they lived in.

Landon moved as well and she turned her head slightly to watch him in her peripheral. He picked up his clothing to place on the living room table and began to rummage through his pockets. Taking out a cigarette, Jasmine couldn't help but watch his smooth and calculated movements as he lit it, inhaled to make the ember tip glow brightly in the dark room, then exhale a ribbon of smoke that caressed down and over his bottom lip.

God damn she was jealous. Not of him having a cigarette, but of the cigarette itself for getting such focused attention from him. Landon was doin' it for her: the knuckle tattoos, the arched brows, the villainous smiles, the way his longer hair up top would dangle over his forehead before he combed-shoved it back with his fingers. She hadn't really ever spent any time with a man who was as calculating in his every response before, who allowed his formulated actions to speak louder than anything else, and it spurred her to want to push him, test him, poke his buttons, see what made him growl. Well, she knew ONE thing. Recounting the way he complimented her and called her "baby girl" had her belly bleeding with sunshine and rainbows. Why did he ignite her in such ways? She wanted everything from him— from his fury to his praise, Jasmine wanted Landon's full spectrum every day. She just needed to learn how to get it.

Breaking her stare from his display she finally walked past him towards the kitchen, only to get -smacked- on the right cheek by his big, meaty hand. Jasmine yelped sharply and even jumped forward a little as she hadn't expected it. By the time she spun around to give him a false look of fury over her shoulder he was gone, already heading up the steps to check out the upper level. She groaned behind her teeth as she reached back to rub at the impact point. The spot was already a little warm, but then again so was her whole body from it. It probably wasn't a good thing that he could get her all warm and fuzzy from a single ass-slap...

Now alone the fogginess from Landon's presence cleared up and Jasmine was finally able to focus. The kitchen was one of the few rooms in the home that was maintained quite adequately. That and the bedroom which she would see when she eventually went upstairs. The woman of the house had learned to can and jar, so there were glass Mason Jars filled with pickled carrots, potatoes, green beans, vegetable soups, and canned beef and chicken. There was a water pump in the sink so Jasmine cranked the iron handle a few times before fresh spring water came gushing out. With excitement she filled the bucket that was in the sink with five more pumps on the handle before lifting it out and setting it on the floor. She scrubbed the blood from her hands then ran cupped palms of water over her arms, stomach, thighs, and massaged and washed through her privates. The water quickly became a ruddy brown color, so she dumped it down the drain then filled another, this time the water staying cleaner as she worked a second 'bath' across her body. She didn't see any towels down here, but the air was warm for her to not be too chilled. Besides it was good for her skin to soak in some of that moisture by air drying.

Cleaner and more invigorated, Jasmine returned to rummaging through the drawers and cabinets to find more treasures. The couple had done quite well for themselves, and in the growing darkness she gathered a few things to show and share with her companion upstairs. The findings revealed there must be some fruit trees somewhere on the property, as well as maybe a chicken coop, but it was too dangerous to go exploring outside now. They would have to wait til sunrise.

She grabbed her sack and dumped the goodies in before carrying it up the stairs to look for him. She found him in the bedroom. The female corpse's legs were jutting from the bathroom door, signifying she had tried to hide in there before Landon had found her, but the bedroom was incredibly nice for what was to be expected. The sheets on the bed weren't full of holes and, while stained, looked clean enough. There was a large walk-in where he was currently looking through, and a fireplace at the foot of the bed. When she entered, Landon paused his work to extend the cigarette towards her. Without hesitation, Jasmine hurried over to take it from him and took a -deep- draw. Instantly her brain calmed but her throat went dry. She turned her head to cough for a second, cleared her throat, then drew again, this one much slower and more gentle. She chuckled at his words.

"Shit, I'd eat your dick for an hour for that joint," she said, her voice a little hoarse from the smoke. It had been awhile. "But I got three more off that cart where you found me. I'll spot you one."

Jasmine placed the burning cig on the mantle over the fireplace and then proceeded to get to work with what she had. Opening the sack she pulled the blanket out she had stolen and laid it before the fireplace like a picnic setup. Next she pulled out each thing she'd found from downstairs. A large 32 oz mason jar labeled "lemonade" was taken out, as well a 32 oz jar labeled "apple wine". Next came the canned beef, a jar of carrots, and a cloth wrap that held a fire-crusted loaf of brown bread that looked like it had been baked earlier that day. She took out the can opener and worked everything open before setting it all out on the blanket, a true feast these days. She tore off a corner of the bread to dip it into the canned meat and took a quick bite before going over to the fireplace to start a fire.

The meat was soft but salted, and the fatty oils of the beef exploded flavor on her tongue that had her moaning as she chewed. The bread was crunchy on the outside, soft inside, and had a sweet hint. Molasses? She chewed more. No, honey. They must also have a beehive somewhere around here.

Landon asked about her past as she placed little sprigs of wood and kindling into the hearth, stuffing it with balled up newspapers that were in a pile nearby. She sparked a match to light it as she answered. "If I killed my last partner, do you think I would tell you?" She asked ironically as the newspapers took the flames. She watched the fire begin to spread slowly, kneeling naked before the small glow. "But no, to answer you. I didn't have a partner. I escaped from the Sheet's Pits about a week ago and have barely survived since. For months I've been bouncing from safe haven to safe haven but....they are full of people who just want to sit on their ass and wait for someone to save them. It's absolutely ridiculous the number of dumbasses that think the Government is still in tact, or the Army is looking for them with a Thanksgiving Dinner in their backpack just for them. Bunch of idiots.." she paused to blow gently on the flames, giving the fire oxygen, then began to feed it medium sized logs.

"The merchant I killed was being disrespectful and racist. Take that as a lesson if you wish to call me something clever like 'raccoon' or 'nigger'. I don't care if you're bigger or stronger than me; you'll have less eye balls and testicle balls by the time you put me in the ground."

By now the fire was brewing well on its own. Flickers of oranges and yellows danced all over the bedroom, filling it with a considerable amount of warmth and light. Jasmine stood up, smacked her palms together to rid them of any soot, then walked the cigarette back to him. She handed it over as her head tilted up to look at his face. The shadows that danced across his features seemed just as home as faeries in a field. She -should- be scared of him. She should be. She wasn't. Instead, like a fool, she felt safer under his cruel green gaze. She felt...playful.

Jasmine's own tattooed hands reached up so her palms lay flat on the broad space of his upper chest. She smoothed her palms across his decorated pectorals, feeling his muscles and smooth skin, simply standing there and touching him. Her fingers and thumbs traced a few of the pictures and words there, enjoying the moment of gently touching another person, and when she saw the word "Gemini" tattooed across his left collarbone, she laughed lightly.

"Of fucking course you're a Gemini. Makes perfect sense." Her right hand dropped to his still exposed cock, curled her fingers around the shaft like a handle, then gave him a soft tug forward as she took an inviting step backwards. It was used as a gentle makeshift leash, attempting to guide him forward before releasing him after a few steps to return and sit down on the blanket. Jasmine reached for the apple wine jar. Taking a sip she found it extremely sweet, slightly tart, and very fermented with a high alcohol content. It reminded her of moonshine. She crossed her legs and got comfortable.

"What about you? You seem like you can take care of yourself. You have guns, which are rare. Who did you kill for those?"

 

[Penitency]

There was something to be told in the way the two thought of their situation and how to go about making use of their newest sanctuary: while Jasmine was taking advantage of the clean and fresh water pouring from the kitchen sink, her newest companion was marching up the stairs ever confidently with a cigarette dangling from between his warm lips without a mind of how he should clean up, too. Each upward step was patient, calculated, smooth, as if Landon's gait could never be broken or disturbed. The dance of grey, whisking tendrils wrapped around his head and neck like a jealous lover the higher he climbed; the shade of the unlit staircase deepened his tattoos and accented the smooth lines of his devilish face.

Even after casually slapping Jasmine's malleable and bubbly ass, the man seemed so nonchalant. He was a demon in its element. A tattooed heartbreaker with a unshakable cool. It wasn't until he was gone that his raw presence was absent of the first floor. In an instant, it seemed so lonely, empty, like a loved one dying and leaving a hole in someone's heart. The safety of the man's skill and prowess was now elsewhere, even if his backpack, rifle, and other possessions had been tossed upon a table near her. Maybe it was too trusting, maybe it was unwise, but Jasmine had an opportunity to take his valuables and run despite chancing the night's dangers lurking for them beyond the marsh. However, she didn't. Instead, the buxom little bombshell decidedly followed the man upstairs with intent.

It was upstairs that Jasmine would find the corpse of the wife strewn about the threshold of the connecting bathroom on her back. A hole in her head was still leaking steadily across her face and eventually falling across the floor, filling in the small gaps between each floorboard like grout to tile. Despite the disturbing thought of her struggle and the woman's final moments staring down the barrel of his sidearm, no one seemed to care. Instead, Jasmine's tall and muscled devil could be seen standing within the walk-in closet that was also connected to the master bedroom they'd soon come to share.

When Jasmine took his cig, the man let that same hand that had offered it brush across his brutish pectoral muscles. Ink on ink clashed, his fingertips trailing, before finding the divisions of his striated abdominal muscles and taped hips. Her coughing had him arching a brow, his words a dark and deep voice only a villain could wield accurately, "slow down, baby girl, fuck. You're going to inhale one of my last cigarettes." Her next draw, then words, had him licking his bottom lip under the shadow of the closet that encased his body, making it look bigger and larger, as if some gargoyle wings would sprout from his shoulder blades any minute.

"Yeah but I'd rather you eat my dick over the one I have than spot me one and not." Landon couldn't help but hold back a grin that wanted to twitch and curl at his lips. When she exited for the mantle and nearby fireplace, Landon would turn his attention upon one of the shelves of the closet. It was pulled open and inside that lay some old socks. Knowing better, inky fingers divided them wide, the smell making his nose scrunch, but at the bottom of them lay a small Smith & Wesson revolver. It was collected in his right hand, while the left popped the cylinder and checked the count of bullets within the rotating wheel.

2 rounds of .38 Special left.

Landon began to walk back into the bedroom, revolver in both hands before his chest, with another 'weapon' swaying between the bulk of his tree-trunk sized thighs. Every step had it shifting, moving with the flex of muscle behind it. Landon's footsteps echoed in bare and soft thumps against the wood until he was close upon her. Observant emerald eyes took a second to admire the set up and the thought that went behind her current 'murder-side picnic.' It was ironic how they acted ever casual when all of the proceeds came from the people they had killed tonight. Even this house belonged to someone else only so long ago, and yet, they were already taking full advantage of what they had earned in cold blood.

As she began to set the fire, Landon would waltz over to the opposite side of her on the blanket and lower himself until his hard glutes were upon the floor. The revolver was placed down on the sheet between them like an offering for her, sitting next to her spread, before Landon leaned back on one of his chiseled arms. With his tricep flaring under his weight, the brute bent one knee up before his chest while the other appendage sprawled out in the small distance between them, extended. Deep green eyes shifted toward their corners to admire the amber glow now washing over his dramatic mass and artwork. Even spent, the man's cock was imposing and mutually impressive as his physique.

It was as the fire crackled that the sound of rain tapping at the windows of their new home began to hit their ears. A pitter-patter of a change in weather was like a million fingers poking at their sanctuary, rapping upon the glass, like a stranger asking to be let in. With no where to go and nothing to do but enjoy this, the man pursued his lips in thought and mulled over her words. "You seem rather forward, so I almost think there would be a chance. And you might know I'd like that fact by now." Landon's voice was low and matching of the almost romantic atmosphere. If there was one person who could read a room, it was definitely Landon.

"The Sheets, huh? Fuckkk, baby girl, that's a cage not many escape from alive. I've seen their kind, dealt with their type." Landon left it at that, for now, given he wanted to let her talk.

"Nah, you won't find that here," he assured her, "and you live up to your word. He's dead. End of story." He'd smirk, reaching over for his own piece of bread to dip it into the nearby meat. The combination was tossed into his mouth and chewed patiently while he locked eyes with her sternly under the fire's warmth, ensuring she knew he was listening. He wanted her to understand he was all about her; he wanted her to know where his interest lay.

When she leaned in and press hands to his unwavering chest, the man's eyes lingered upon her while boldly challenging her to explore. Muscle lifted against her palms and fingers, but he did not impede her search upon him. Both legs now lay flat, extended, spread, while his arms leaned back to support his weight and open his chest. Her observation of him being a Gemini had him grinning, "is there a problem? What are you?"

That's when she reached down, grabbing his already hardening cock. She'd feel it was throbbing, growing, returning to its former glory just from seeing her under the fiery glow of the fireplace nearby. Her body enticed him like a beckoning finger, he had been getting rock hard just thinking of the things he'd do to her between conversation. Her grip on his near seven inch long cock, with room to grow, had him scooting closer to her now. They'd be able to intertwine legs at this point as he sat again, but her legs crossed while his opened, flanking her.

Now his eyes broke from hers, moving to the fire, when she asked about him. With his cigarette returned, the man took one final drag before tossing it into the fire. There was something to be said of him discarding something so precious: she was worth so much more. He wanted to focus on her, and freely do so without the burden of his cigarette.

"I was in the Army. I watched the world go to hell in a handbasket. I was the motherfuckers mowing people down at QZs as they tried to hop razor wire with kids in their arms." A distant stare took over his face before his sharp jaw turned, eyes back upon her again. The sound of the fire and rain filled the room between his pause. The exhaust from his last draw slowly poured from his nostrils and drifted behind him or between their space.

"Speaking of guns, I found this in the closet," he'd reach down, picking up the handgun and placing it beside her now, "just don't point it at me or we will have problems, then."

Landon scooted until he was at her side now, curling one arm around the center of her back. His hand snaked under her armpit to grasp at the farthest, heavy, ample breast of hers in his palm after sneaking into the material binding it. Fingers felt her mound spilling between them, providing she was more than a handful, and squeezed tight while also ripping the fabric around her some into a looser fit because of the pressure. His thumb stroked over her nipple, while the opposite hand stuck in between her thighs and crossed legs. Cupping her mound, the man began to coax her shy clit with the slow rotation of his index and middle finger upon it.

The movement of his fingers had his bicep straining, flexing, as he leaned in to bury his head toward the side of her neck again. Landon would bite her earlobe, tugging, before whispering, "I didn't need to kill anyone for my guns... but I'd kill anyone for you. As much as I've fucked around and bantered with you, I do like our chemistry. I think you're a fucking bad ass bitch who needs a man who can harness it. And judging by how fucked up this world is, I think your options are unfortunately limited to me."

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The rain came, and while Jasmine loved the element as it poured from the heavens, attempting to wash away yet another disaster created by humans, she was ever thankful she was inside shelter with a solid roof. Running in the dark, peppered with droplets and slipping across soaked ground and mud was exhausting. She had had to do it a few times over the years and it never got any easier. She paused to listen to the continuous pattern against the still-intact farmhouse window to the left in the bedroom. It added to the ambiance of the moment, as if the world around her was encouraging her to stay exactly where she was for a time. Stop. Take a moment. Breath. Rest. Jasmine found herself listening to the energetic invitation.

The fire was blazing and filling the majority of the room with its heated light, especially of both of the humans who sat on the floor in front of it. She sat on the floor with her legs crossed, her back against the footboard of the large bed behind her for support, and while she and Landon conversed, she ate.

His eyes hardly left her the moment he joined her on the blanket. He never interrupted her, nor did he try to trump her stories or steal the spotlight. He gave her the silence to respond and a woman with free verbal reign usually fills it up with words. Jasmine would have done this if she wasn't so hungry and excited to have actual food in her stomach. After weeks of ration bars, wild foraging, or the grueled paste the Sheets fed their slaves, it was wonderful to have substance, flavor, in her mouth.

Landon repositioned on the blanket, the fire now majorly at his back as his thick, long legs fell into a V with her between his calves and knees. In pure relaxed instinct, Jasmine unbraided her own legs apart and lifted them to hook over his. The backs of her knees gently rested over the tops of his thighs, now returning the flanking V towards him with her heels resting on the floor just behind him, catching him between her little ankles. It was casually intimate. In this new era of horror it was so rare to simply touch and be touched. The virus spread through contact of bodily fluids so getting too close was often the transmitting event, and people couldn't be trusted as a whole. Come too close to the wrong someone and a knife could be in your back for supplies, or a bag over your head to be sold for silver. There was a heightened level of extreme caution now with anyone who had survived this long, choosing to stay away from most in order to remain as safe as possible. It was also a reason why, unfortunately, breeding farms such as the Sheet's Pits had popped up in particularly bad areas across the lands. If the population was to be refilled, women had to be 'touched', and oftentimes it was done quite forcibly.

Jasmine was a very tactile person, so it was why she took that moment earlier to simply touch Landon, pleased that he allowed her to explore him. She would do it many more times by the end of the night if he allowed it, almost a gorging opportunity for one like her to fill all of her needs that had been denied to her for a long time. When was the last time she was consensually touched? It had been years.

So while Landon spilled a few facts about his pretty awful past, not really eating as he relived a few horrors in his mind, the little red-dyed minx before him ate up some of the jarred carrots, used the bread to spoon more meat into her mouth, and bounced back and forth between sips of the apple wine and the refreshing lemonade that had also been sweetened with honey. Food was always a happy thing to celebrate, and Jasmine's feet even danced a bit, twisting at the ankles back and forth to a soundless beat as Landon spoke about screaming mothers shoving their babies through razor wire before being gunned down by him and his man. Tragic. Horrifying. Jasmine continued to enjoy her meal without pause. It would take a bit more than that to make her feel sick to her stomach, but Landon didn't want to speak much on it further. He gave her the basics to explain how he operated and where he got a few of his items, and that was really all that was necessary to know presently.

The gun he had found in the farmer's closet was presented to her like an offering, and -that- made Jasmine pause mid-chew. He set it down at her side and she traced the handle and shape of it with a single index finger, almost as if she were afraid to really touch it or pick it up. Guns were more valuable than gold now. Even empty and unloaded, you point it at someone they usually wouldn't risk to find out the hard way if you were bluffing. She had become quite proficient with melee weapons, namely axes and crowbars, and she doubted she would even hit a target with the gun. If they found some spare bullets he might be able to help her practice, but they would have to wait til morning before they explored the farmhouse deeper.

As she inspected the new weapon, Landon untangled their legs apart and came around to sit at her left. The arm wrapping around her waist broke her focus on the gun and had to turning her face towards him. They were close, and her breathing became quickly uneven as she felt his hand cup through her bindings before yanking them apart. The beige wraps unraveled like ribbon that had gone slack and fell in loose loops down to her waist. Out poured two bounding and bouncing heavy breasts, soft and jiggly like Christmas butterscotch pudding, and Landon wasted no time palming one as much as he could, fingers closing in with ample soft excess spilling between his darkly inked knuckles.

Jasmine was still holding the jar of apple wine in her right hand, but it trembled slightly as he made her respond to him. Being the textual and touching person she was, the time of denial made her incredibly responsive. Her immediate extreme attraction to this man only made such a baseline even worse, easier for him to exploit. So when his other hand snaked down between her brown thighs to expertly find her pleasure's epicenter, her body bucked softly and a huffing exhale escaped her lips to caress his across the short distance between them.

"Ohh. Found that pretty quickly didn't you, you little slut?" Her voice was soft and breathless but also pitched a little higher in her excitement. Her brown eyes became heavy as she looked at him deeply with all the beauty and warmth a woman as passionate as her could offer a man. Some men their entire lives never learned the power, nor placement, of a woman's clitoris. Landon clearly wasn't one of them, instead zeroing in on her’s instantly and circling it with juuuust the right amount of pressure that had the spongy pearl swelling to greet him. Jasmine shivered a bit involuntarily, her jaw dropping in a withering gasp especially when the pads of his fingers circled over the top and seduced the spot directly above it. Her nipples beaded into hard points as well, and his thumb would feel it if he stroked across it again.

When he leaned in, Jasmine naturally closed her eyes and tilted her head back, exposing her full neck, face, and ear to him. She listened to his words, focused, smiled and gave an erotically charged sigh at how he deemed himself the man to "harness" her. He recognized what she was and didn't shy away from it, didn't try to steer her potential towards a more positive goal. In fact, it seemed pretty clear that they might even encourage the other to be worse, not better. He would kill anyone for her? She might just put that to the test in the next few days, just to see...

Her response to his offer and complimenting words was to put the jar of wine down before opening her eyes and twisting her body towards him. Pushing up on her left knee, Jasmine tossed her right leg over his thighs, now sitting astride him, facing him naked as she sat in his lap. The bindings for her breasts were now useless so she grabbed them in a handful and tossed them away, now presenting herself as gloriously naked (NSFW) as he was. Knees braced on the blanket on either side of his hips, Jasmine reached behind his shoulders to grab the footboard of the bed. Fingers curling over the solid wood she used it to -pull- her pelvis forward, using her abdominals to push until her soaked pussy was tucked straight and snug against his cock, catching it upright between them.

The tip of her tongue snaked out and drew an upward line from the center of his chin, his lips, and swept up the bridge of his nose to the tip before her teeth gave it a nibble. Her hands remained hooked on the footboard at his back, giving her the leverage she needed as she lifted up on her knees a bit then proceeded to begin moving her hips forward and back like that of some bendy, gypsy dancer of old. Up, done, up, down...Jasmine's pussy lips soon sliced open from the movement only to drag her silkier parts up against his underside, grinding against the entirety of his thick shaft, forcing him to -feel- her own growing physical reaction to him.

She shivered as she did this as the fleshy friction was perfect against her sensitive flesh, the heat rising to boiling levels that beckoned him to sink into something hot, dripping, and grippingly tight. Up she went, pressing her clit against the soft helm and almost flattening it against his belly, then down she went slowly, her lower lips hugging the sides the entire way until she wiggled herself against his thighs, making them wet too.

"We have chemistry because I'm a fucking Aries," she breathed, doing the pass up again only to deny him entrance to her gate once more. "We are the sparks to Geminis. Be careful, baby." She loomed over him with her slightly heightened position as she remained on her knees. "I'm going to make you crazy if you choose me."

She paused to reach over for the Apple wine jar, and with a tilt of her head took in a large mouthful until her cheeks mildly bulged and her tongue slightly burned from the alcohol. After setting the glassware back down both of her hands swept up to cup his cheeks rather forcefully, capturing his head and making sure he stayed still so she could push her filled mouth to his. As before, Jasmine worked his lips open, only this time into his mouth poured a large measure of the shared wine from her's when he opened up. It was a messy exchange, and drips spilled down his chin to fall on her large breasts that were hardly being flattened against his thick chest. None of that slowed her down. The second her mouth was emptied, Jasmine's lips tore at his, making up for lost ones when he denied her downstairs. She had earned these kisses, so she was taking them aggressively, hands still clapped on his cheeks as she raised up a final time, this time to line herself up below.

Anchoring herself over the tip of him, the woman began to relax the muscles in her thighs and finally sink down on him in a decadently slow descent. At every inch swallowed she made a little sound into his mouth, like little shocked moans of "mmm.....mh....mff.....mhm...!" until she sat down, ass seated on his thighs, fully impaled like a deep seeded root. It was a deep, tight, blazing vaginal capture, and Jasmine was so wet that, while a stretch, it had been a smooth glide. She wiggled her hips side to side, sitting more firmly to make sure she got everything he was offering, all the way down until her pussy lips engulfed his thickened base and made it sticky with her arousal. It was that final little bit of her own weight added that made her suddenly jolt and yelp, finally ripping her lips away from his to make a series of shocked sounds, some of pleasure, some twinged with pain.

Landon was not only thick enough to make her eyelids flutter, but he was also damn long. Being both stubborn and greedy, Jasmine forced her body to take it all, and that meant that the spongy tip of his cock was now kissing her cervix quite forcefully.

"Oh.......my god, oh, my god," Jasmine panted and tried to maneuver but that only made her entire channel -flex- down on him in bold retaliation. "ohmygod ......FUCK!" He was so thick....so thick that it stretched her to new heights, and her body wrapped around him like a steaming glove, clamping down in aggression, hungry— hungry for everything.

The little red-haired scavenger shuddered, her eyes clouded over and rolled back as her body was filled up to an almost painful degree. Men weren't made like him very often and the position she was in forced her to take it all, every thick inch, stretching the walls of her feverish pussy to the limit. So there she paused, twitching, gasping, vibrating against him, sitting there for a still moment, stuffed by his massive genitals as she gave her body the moment it needed to get used to it all.

 

[Penitency]

Landon's greedy and adventurous hand squeeeezed at her breast just right as the bindings once upon her chest now loosened so much so that it slipped across her torso and puddled at her waist. One of those deep seated groans rumbled in the back of the man's throat as he weighed her mound in his palm; Landon could feel it spilling from his bear paw of a grip, and the idea of her size had him moaning internally in delight. Her body pleased him, and her proportions were something that had his mouth watering in excitement. A hard swallow visibly shifted the front of his throat, the two fingers upon her clit carefully circled it ever patiently, parting her labia, and sending a current of electricity right into her core. His two fingers rolled softly, coaxing her little sensitive button to the surface for him to get a better purchase on.

"You calling me a slut?" The man questioned into her ear, now leaning back some while trailing soft, wet kisses along the top of her shoulder as he did. They'd fall off the cliff of her upper arm as he sat back some, but remained close, hand upon her breast in needy fashion. However, all of this changed the minute Jasmine switched up the situation and decided to move for the bulky surface of his thighs. Both of his hands moved, shifted, flowed with her body as it slid across his lap seductively. His fingers and palms roamed over her flanks, brushing along the sides of her breasts in a downward stroke along her obliques. They'd soon find the flare of her hips before his fingers dug in temporarily like soldiers digging a trench. Emerald colored eyes lifted up confidently under the darkness of the room, only enhanced by the gentle touch of orange from the fire.

The fact that she wisely took up the position she did: her hands stretching for the footboard of the bed behind him meant those trophy worthy breasts were thrust before his face given their newly established height difference. Without thought or hesitation, his hands released her breed worthy hips and lifted. They slid back up her sides, pressed her breasts together from their flanks, and then shifted inwards to grab ahold of them with a opened palm. The spill of his disheveled hair was the first to tickle at her darkened nipples and caramel flesh as he leaned in and lavished one of those erect peaks with the devilish curl of his tongue. A groan, a pleased moan, was sent in a chain of vibrations against her nipple as she ground herself on the veined underside of his monstrous cock that was sandwiched between her and his hard six-pack.

Her next series of actions had him releasing her nipple from his mouth with an audible pop of suction. Jasmine was allowed to trail her tongue along his chin, lips, and the bridge of his nose. Emerald eyes further lifted upwards to find hers under the darkness, their color undeniable, as she nibbled. A smirk escaped in a huff of amusement through his nose, but the brute remained somewhat silent while savoring this rare moment of carnal understanding. His hands studied, shifting, grasping at her imperfections and perfections alike. They were equally savored as much as the last.

The slick heat of her pussy grinding itself against him, covering his veiny length in her essence, had the man's abdominals tightening as they had done when she had her lips around him. A deep seated groan again rumbled in his throat as his head thumped against the floorboard of the bed behind him, shifting his hair at the rear of his skull. Those eyes admired, worshipped, shifted in their observance of her beautiful face while his right hand slipped along her spine, letting his fingertips flow along that ever present line denoting the midpoint of her six. By the time her words came, the man was coated at his cock and thighs in her own juices, as if preparing him for what was to come while showing her appreciation of her newest partner and just how hot he made her at the thought of sinking himself into her vice-like channel.

"Are you? Well, my dick is fuckin' rock hard just thinking of your spark, so it's all the proof I need to know you're not bullshitting me." The man smirked, his words a mere whisper.

Those eyes watched as she took a mouthful of wine and cupped at his face. Landon leaned his head back, making sure it was easy to level their lips, before they crushed up together and formed a seal. Fully expecting her move, the man would do well to capture what she pushed forwards. However, it was impossible to get it all. Liquid seeped from his lips and dotted his grandiose pectorals before getting lost in the deep channels of his abdominal muscles. Some streams even flowed downwards along the tapered nature of his hips and pooled at the base of his cock.

With one hand mashed, gripping, the center of his back, the other reached down to paw at that bubbly ass. A hard swat had it jiggling between his fingers, reddening her tanned flesh, before he clamped down with a closing fist before relenting some, and laying his hand flat upon her curves. Landon dove into that kiss, his head shifting from side to side in order to meet her passion without bumping noses or running out of oxygen. It was hasty, rushed, but just right. A deep seated groan rumbled from his tongue to hers when she descended upon his marble hard cock that was standing up all on its own. Inch by inch, the man could feel her stretch wide and his crowned tip fighting her resistance the further he was sent within her. Hell, Landon knew if he reached down he might just feel the little indent he was making in her lower stomach the second he was bottoming out on her cervix.

"Fuck, baby," the man gasped, "you're so tight." Those words were uttered upon her lips.

Her curses, calls to god, had him grinning wickedly while licking his lips. Landon leaned forwards, seated up a little more, and let the hand gripping the center of her back to now grab at her beautiful hair. Like some reigns, his bicep bulged up against the side of her tit as he used that newfound leverage to pulllll back, forcing the gradual build of intension to translate upon her skull. That opened up her neck as she ground her hips against his, Landon's cock stirring and throbbing inside of her like a pulse. When they were separated from kissing, he'd dive in to bite at her opened, vulnerable neck. His teeth grazed and tongue healed those temporary marks with a promise they'd fade, eventually.

Tattooed fingers on her ass slapped again before tightening as he reigned her in on his thighs, one hand pulling her hair downwards, the other upon her backside. As she sat there, the man lowered his lips and trailed kisses toward those proudly thrusted tits given he forced her into a harder arch. Sloppy, wet, snake-like swirls of his tongue drew saliva over one of her nipples. He sealed it in his mouth and tongued it more before popping off, burying his face between those breasts he couldn't get enough of. Emerald eyes peered up at her from that valley like a demon in his element, a wicked grin upon his lips.

"I already chose you. You're all mine." The man whispered, their bond sealed with his dick spearing her so deep, "you think I'd let you go?"

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The balance between ruthless debauchery and rare intimacy was thinner than most people thought. What it really boiled down to was chemistry, chemistry between two opposite entities that, once finally found by the other, had to question how they ever truly lived without them.

Maybe Landon had been right when he chided her downstairs right before her mouth sucked him off— she WAS the type to get attached really easily. Just...not to any random passerby. Very quickly she was becoming highly observant and aware of her new lover, from the way warmth spread along the surface of his body, to which movements promoted those exotic brow furrows of his, to the way his fingers took hold of her, releasing and tightening based on her motions and actions. Even tender honorifics were exchanged easily between them, their lips whispering or moaning the pet names as if they had been lovers for years instead of minutes.

During the brief respite where Jasmine allowed her body to adapt to his sheer size, getting more and more comfortable each passing second, she felt his hand slither from the center of her back to grab her mane of red hair like a rope braid. The tension increased at the roots on her skull, and she willingly began to bend back, following his silent command to tilt her face towards the ceiling and thrust her bountiful breasts up practically against his chin. Eyes falling closed as her lips fell open, she made cute little gasping sounds of need when she felt his hot mouth capture the top portion of her breast before his rough tongue moved across the sensitive bud. Immediately it pebbled from his attention, poking into the surface of his tongue as he suckled her like a newborn babe, and he would undoubtedly feel the little flutters of arousal that act, and his verbal possession of her, sent through her cunt that still had him captured from root to tip. There was no way for Jasmine to lie or pretend to him, not like this. He could easily find out her every secret if he just played close attention.

But now it was time to put in work, to seal the deal of his claim on her and never make him regret it. With a lift, Jasmine rose higher on her knees, easing much of the pressure against her cervix as she retreated upwards until she was only a third of the way off of him. That's when she dropped, clapping her ass on the tops of his thighs and crying out to the ceiling quite loudly. Mouth wide with panting, she did it again, lifting up a second time, only this time when she lowered she angled herself forward a bit, curling her pelvis so that on the descent the fat head of his cock would -drag- across a particular pad of nerves right inside at the upper entrance. Jasmine bucked, her hands releasing his cheeks to clap on his shoulders in a need to hang on, and gritted her teeth as she sucked a hiss through them. There it was. Every thrusting lift she made ground his cock directly against her inner sensitive spot, and every drop had his pelvic bone bumping against her clit and forcing a moan to be pushed high and out of her.

Her spread thighs and position gave him an unadulterated view of her bouncing breasts as she picked up the pace, as well as the complete sight of his consumed thickness being squeezed and disappearing over and over and over again deep in her tight, wet cunt. She humped up and down, her nails curling into his shoulder's skin as leverage as she made him feel what it was like to finally be inside her, to feel the extreme pleasure of her godlike pussy fucking him fast and unprotected.

Landon would feel every muscle twitch and clamp on him, the tight, hot movement of her lifting up on her knees then thrusting back down to sit on his entire massive shaft. Looking up he would see her unmasked stunning face contorted towards the ceiling in an expression of agonized bliss, lips parted in breathless whining, the few thrusts on him already bringing her close.

Clearly Jasmine was just as vocal and open sexually as she was in every other aspect of her life. Her face was flushed with pleasure, and she rode him like a rider on a horse before releasing a shoulder to reach back between his thighs with her right hand. She slowed down, now only descending about halfway down his length, but she still moved her flexible hips forward and back in a dramatic elliptical, using his cock-tip as some internal massager while her delicate teasing fingers found and began to stroke his wet testicles. Her abdominals were flexing like mad as she clamped down on him at the spike in pleasure as her movements, then clamped madly again as she screamed, her eyes almost crossing at one point because she had him curved inside her at the most delirious angle. The crescendo towards the peak suddenly sped up, and to prevent things from ending too soon she stopped. Jasmine had never climaxed more than once with a partner before, and she didn't want the games to stop so soon after they finally began doing exactly what she had wanted to do the moment he had murdered the farmer's wife. She cried out abruptly when he bottomed out again, but like the little pain-slut she was, she continued right on fucking him, riding him wildly as her fingers massaged him while his cock was being squeezed and stimulated to the highest degree as she came up, slammed down, rose up again, and slammed down again, riding him like a complete whore.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck....Fuck!" Her high pitched squeals coincided with every thrust she made, going faster and faster and faster, not bothering even trying to be quiet, not bothering to act as though she was in charge, and absolutely loving that she would now become addicted to wanting him inside her. In fact, she was almost mad at him for taking so long in finding her, for making her wait, and she showed her displeasure by stopping her play on his balls and grabbing the front of his throat with her palm, shoving his face away from the cornucopia he had been gorging himself on that were her breasts and attempting to pin his head against the footboard. Her grip tightened to an 'almost' choking level; it may have actually been that if his throat wasn't so thick with muscle and if she were a little stronger...

"Come on, Daddy.....come on! Just like that, fuck you feel so good. I'm going to milk every drop from you again. Fill me up, baby, please, please, please PLEASE!" Still with her head pulled back she attempted to lift it, her hair growing taut against his grip as she tried to look at him. Jasmine's other hand left his remaining shoulder and she aggressively stuffed two fingers into his mouth, index and middle, to hook over the bottom row of his teeth, wetly tethering herself to his jaw as her thumb curled under his chin. "Shit, right there, right there, right there. I'm so close.....so fucking close."

That's when she locked in and down and began to grind, effectively using Landon as a clitoral and G-spot scratching post as the entire length of him was squished between her upper and lower internal muscles. Jerking her hips back and forth in rapid movements she forced him to feel the entire circular holster of her channel that was beating in tune with her rapid heartbeat, melting hot, and giving those warning wet quivers of an impending end. All he would have to do was observe the obvious— his little red-headed kitten was seconds away from eruption.

 

[Penitency]

Jasmine's cute little gasping sounds had Landon lavishing her breasts and erected nipples with his mouth and tongue ever eagerly. Each stroke and curl of his wet muscle upon her drew transparent trails of saliva over her caramel skin; it was intentionally performed sloppily, unorganized, and inaccurately so with a hunger unmatched by more timid men she might have known up to this point. No, his hands roamed wantonly, insatiably, while his mouth latched on and off with the moist pop of moisture every time he came off her, releasing that building friction with the hollow of his cheeks. Landon knew she wanted this, loved his messy attention, as her insides clamped and massaged at him. He could feel her nectar absolutely coating him, leaving a sleet of cloud grey over his veined dick whenever she lifted upwards.

A deep seated groan escaped the man, the grip on her hair tightened, as she began to lift up until the fleshy clap of her ass slapping upon his unmoving thighs echoed out. "Fuck," the man growled out under his breath, "like that, baby. That ass of yours, goddamn..." Some things were left better unsaid. It was obvious the tattooed Adonis seated before her, legs spread out across the surface she had set, was absolutely fawning over her exaggerated curves. Hell, they looked better in motion over his solid lap that was one of the best springboards she'd find. The second bounce of her ass had him reeling, and Landon's hand not holding her hair dropping. His greedy hand went right for her ass: it swatted her hard, the slap echoing, before he palmed that cheek desperately. He'd feel it shifting, jiggling on each downward drop.

Landon knew exactly why Jasmine did what she did: she was trying to hit herself at the right spot, effectively using his dick as she saw fit and making it work best for her. He could feel her angle herself just right so his subtle, slight up-curve in his marble hard dick could drag it's crown along the portion of her channel most sensitive. When she landed, her exposed and warmed-up clit would find friction in his pelvic bone. Landon wasn't dumb nor inexperienced. And so, understanding her goal, the man would angle his own hips, lifting them some, to meet her half way in that attempt to ensure the friction was multiplied. The hand upon her ass clamped, tightened, on the single cheek as he lifted and ground his tapered hips as if they were grinding on the dance floor of some pre-pandemic club before she lifted back up.

Their lips remained agape near one another while Landon's emerald eyes peered up to study the expressions upon her face. His ears picked up the intensity in her voice. Landon could feel her pussy quivering around him, her fluid absolutely blocking the darker shade of his cock's complexion with the thick, double layered coat of her syrupy essence. The man leaned in and ran his tongue over one of those shifting breasts, followed by the brush and electricity of his hot breath over that slick patch of skin he had created. It was hard to capture it without hands, but the struggle made him look all the more insatiable for her. Occasionally, she'd find the tickle of his wild few strands of hair that edged over his forehead.

As Landon's shoulders rippled under her hands, his dick was wildly pre-cumming inside of her. Soon, her hand was diverting, stroking his testicles. They throbbed against her palm as they continued to move toward a climax still in the works. The man's tattooed physique was tense, tight, and hard as the rocky face of a cliff. Ink and skin flexed with the shifts of his muscle, those eyes were half-narrowed and almost wicked looking in expression, as if the devil was seated right before her. Her fingers had him groaning, moaning, whispered words again coming, "someone's fuckin' soaked," as if he was speaking to an audience, "harder, baby. Stop being so soft."

However, her hand toward his throat took him by surprise. Landon peered up to her, releasing her hair now, and came to grasp her wrist instead. A questioning, annoyed furrow of his brows had his dick throbbing inside of her angrily, too. A hard grunt had his throat shifting at her palm as he twisted his head back some, "I'll fill your pussy up when you learn your place." The brute tightened his grip on her wrist, but did not remove her hand yet. Corded muscle shifted as he pushed his hips upwards, bucking her more, and her fingers were outright rejected. Landon twisted his head again, and used the grip on her wrist to control her some. Her fingers prodded his iron jaw instead of finding his mouth, and Landon's body shifted under her harder, trying to help her get to that summit of pleasure before he'd issue his next move.

Jasmine would find her hand upon his throat, his own hand around her wrist, the other still on that ass. Her grinding had him gripping it harder, tighter, and his own hips moved to the rhythm she had established to maximize things. He'd ride this out, grinding upon one another as his dick remained lodged deep. When she was finally the quivering mess she had promised to be only seconds ago, the brute would let her ride it out some, his own length getting the message of a lifetime as she loudly proclaimed her bliss. That's when her towering brute was ready to pick up the pieces and turn up the intensity.

His grip upon her wrist was the guiding force in leverage upon her. Landon shifted, his v-cut hips lifting upwards and thrusting her into the air as if she weighed all but one pound, while his gigantic dick was still spearing her and knocking upon the wall of her cervix. One arm curled around her back, bicep to side, and palm at the center to temper her speed. Landon planted her on her back near the canned food she had laid out, his hips upon her and hands now shifting her beautiful legs to lay up and over his chest. Her calves dangled at either side of his head now, as he pressed his hands afterwards into the floor momentarily, putting downward pressure on the back of her beautiful legs.

With his hands mashed near her face, he'd begin bouncing his hips off the plush contours of the underside of her ass; balls audibly slapping up on her, too. The loud, aggressive claps of flesh on flesh began to ring out; Landon wasted no time in jolting her body with those impactful hits. As he did, the man would turn his head to the side and let his warm lips begin to kiss up along her calf muscle. He'd lean back some now, sitting on his knees, while his hands latched unto her hips tightly. As he delivered body rocking thrusts, the man nibbled, licked, and kissed an upward path along one of her legs toward her ankle. When he was at that point, he'd switch to the other leg and repeat.

Each downward thrust was held for a second, his hips grinding down upon her in a semi-circle, before lifting. It was all to ensure he'd angle himself right to drag upon her clit before, even if it was ever tricky in this position as opposed to the last. After he caressed her legs, the man would lean down and plant his hands beside her head once more in a more push up position. She could see the hunger, the need, within his half-lidded eyes while his shoulder blades rippled and shifted. His biceps blared out as he supported his downward weight upon her, his hips moving harder, faster with the sounds of their bodily collisions coming a second or two between.

He leaned down for one thing: to tip his head in the opposite direction and launch a primal kiss of tongue and lips upon her while he bounced off the surface of her million dollar ass.

 

[Bellatrixxx]

He must have liked the way she was moving because very soon Landon's hips below would occasionally shift, thrust, and lift towards her, angled and ready for her drop. The collision of their bodies when they came together like this, forcibly meeting in the middle, created fleshy sounds of impact the effects of which could visibly be seen by the wave that rolled up her round asscheeks, abruptly halted by the tautness of her lower back. Jasmine would move herself, punking out every few seconds to try and avoid that pinpointed pleasure and give herself some control, some breathing room with the ability to think, but whether it was intentional or not, Landon had learned her secret. When he came up he knew where to go, every time, and she swore he searched it out by the experienced way he fucked her, ever in full charge, being on the bottom making no difference.

He was going to make her cum. Quickly. Jasmine had tried to grit out the warning, even plead that he fill her first. Landon was making too many winning strides against her tonight, and she needed to show him she wouldn't so easily be bent to his will and desires. It was why she had initiated this in the first place, both times. Why she had climbed on top of him, thinking the position safe, a sure thing in making clear she was the boss. But somehow during he had maintained his seat of power, and Jasmine's sockets widened as she realized this when their eyes met when her hair was released and his eyes burning into her, barely even acknowledging her hand on his throat.

He looked devilish, aggressive, and even crazed as he stared into her reddened-cheeked, moaning-mouthed, pleasure-filled eyes. They were stark contrasts here, calculating pupils staring into the eyes of chaos dashed to pieces, and when his abdomen flexed as he gave her a move below that had her eyes rolling back, her free hand snaked up the back of his head to grip a fistful of the longer strands up top.

Then, at a final cry and right on cue, Jasmine came hard, actually doubling over his face as spasm after spasm, jolt after jolt, cringe after righteous cringe wrecked through her body, the orgasm threatening to rip her apart from her overstuffed pussy all the way through her overstimulated and wild mind. She couldn't get any air in to scream more, so the final sounds came out in withered wheezes as her body milked him aggressively, every muscle inside and outside her body flexing down in a craving for him. Every square inch of her had a wave of electricity flow through it, shocking her, her knees shaking with the struggle to keep holding her up. Literal black spots appeared at the edges of her vision, and after endless moments when she could finally breath again, Jasmine gulped a lungful of air before collapsing against his fevered chest.

Jasmine foolishly thought they were through for the moment. She couldn't tell if he had finished inside of her, lost in her own cloud as she was, and she was so wet between her thighs it -had- to be two people's worth. Her back twitched a bit in sensitivity, and her skin was hot to the touch, warmed by both her blood rushing and the fire behind her.

That was when Landon moved as if she were suddenly under attack. When he thrusted so hard it bodily -lifted- her from the floor, forcing her legs to dangle wildly for a second and his cock to cram into the center of her spongy cervix, Jasmine made an abrupt scream that was a tangled mix of pain and surprise.

"Wait, Wait, Wait, Landon, what are you...what are you d—ooommff" She was flipped over to land heavily on her back now, her eyes looking up at him wide with shock as her hair blazed around her head like a bloody halo, splattered across the blanket haphazardly. She struggled a bit as he handled her roughly, trying to reach for his hands only to have them tossed aside as her legs were raised and anchored against his chest. With her heels on his shoulders she tried to push off, but it was an impossible move with his cock pinning her lower body into the floor like a nine-inch nail. She tried to sit up at the simultaneous moment he leaned over her and braced himself with palms at her ears. Her hands went flying towards his biceps to try and forcibly lift him up. She had seconds to talk before he started to pound into her.

"No, no, wait, I alreadyyyahhh! Ahh!....ah!.....oohh!...sh-shit! Shit!" Jasmine quickly fell back to the blanket the moment he lifted himself up only to drill back down and inside her. Her body buckled under his strength and weight, heels bouncing on his powerful shoulders as his hips began moving in a steady rhythmic clip. He was pumping so hard and steady that the picnic blanket began to bunch under Jasmine's lower back as he scooted her upwards, but she didn't seem to mind or even notice. The woman's mouth hung open in a permanent, continuous whimper, unable to form a coherent thought as those hands that had aimed to shove at his solid biceps were now clinging to them.

When he leaned back the movement caught her attention, and she whined from the distance he created, even reaching up for him with greedy hands, fingers curled in long-nailed flexes to beckon him back down to her. Now, with his hands on his hips, her scooting across the floor was halted, but that only meant she was forced to feel every deep stroke he gave her with no bounce-back. Jasmine's heels dug into his shoulders as she arched her spine, lifting those heavy breasts into the air between them as they bounced dramatically, swaying back and forth in their heavy momentum from him fucking her. Her hands fluttered to the tops of his thighs before the nails curled in, and her legs trembled with each passing kiss he planted up their lengths.

Up he worshipped her, his kisses like tiny flaming brands as there was something so wickedly sexy of a bad boy like him taking the moment to bless her skin with his focused attention. Jasmine remained howling on the floor as he did it, his hips never pausing as he clapped into her ass repeatedly, her eyes opening softly to look up at him from thick, dark lashes. He looked so in control, calm, almost detached. It was in sharp contrast to the way she wriggled underneath him, with no possibility of escape. But then, in a glimpse of clarity, she saw more him clearly: the color in his eyes had sharpened, there were small drops of moisture forming on his neck, the curl of his fingers into the soft parts of her hips, all of these small signs of his humanity made her gasp. It was more arousing than anything else he did to her as it showed he was more than just a little taken by her.

"Oh my god," she blurted out, eyes popping blindly towards the ceiling, mouth hollow and wide. She looked like she was about to lose her damn mind when he came back into view, leaning forward and folding her even tighter now. The position inadvertently tightened her cunt around him, squeezing down on his wildly retreating and invading cock, and it made her make the longest, most pathetically submissive sound of the night. He was hitting all the right spots perfectly.

"Baby, baby, baby," she chanted in a breathless whine as he hungrily glared down at her, his green eyes missing nothing. "You're going to make me cum again, you're going to-mmff....mmmfffffmm....MMm!" That final squeal was muffled just like the rest, her warning cut off with his fervent kiss as he silenced her words and simply wanted to hear her lusty song. Jasmine's moans never stopped, instead they simply vibrated their intertwining lips as her hands went to his broad and flexing back. Inked caramel fingers splayed wide to cover as much of his pale skin as possible, as all she could really do remaining was take the deep dicking like a good girl.

It wouldn't take long, not with this angle and sheer forcefulness. The wrists just above her shoulders had her locked in his cage, unable to wiggle away and keep the inevitable from happening. The build that had never truly decreased from her last release resumed again, only this time it was different. A pressure increased just below her bellybutton at the precise location where one would see the tip of him poking through her darker skin on every deep inward thrust. It grew and grew, mirroring the sensation of her needing to relieve herself. It was a strange feeling, a unique one that Jasmine didn't recognize, and in alarm she struggled to escape, her moans increasing in both volume and fear against his conquering mouth. But Landon didn't seem concerned or caring of her predicament, because if anything he went faster. Harder.

The shadows of their conjoined silhouettes danced upon the farmhouse walls from the burning flames to their side. A corpse lay growing cold in the corner. The rain still fell against the metal root outside. And somewhere in the darkness there was a survivor fleeing for their lives. But here, here in this room were the sounds of immense pleasure and surrender, of a desperate woman about to learn something about herself. And she was close, so close. All he had to do was hit her one more time right....

......there.

Like a pop, something exploded inside of Jasmine, forcing her over the edge as her entire body seized up and went powerfully rigid. With eyes tightly shut and her lips in a wide O shape, completely unable to continue the kiss on her end, she shivered, toes curling on his shoulders and above his head, the shadows of their morphed singular body vibrating on the far wall. Every muscle tightened to the max, and around his shaft her tunnel twisted a grip so tightly a lesser man might have been expelled from her sheathe. He would have to fight to stay inside of her, the pushing force very strong, and if he did it would result in a crushing flex that was so rooted her pussy -squirted- translucent sweetness out from around his stuffed meat.

Jasmine arched blindly, her eyes not seeing anything but pure light, and her hands dropped down to Landon's ass in pure instinct to hold him to her, to keep him inside of her, nails curling into the iron glutes as if they were her only tether to reality. Below, if Landon kept thrusting, it would push out more and more, fucking the squirt out of her as she squeezed steadily down on him, soaking his balls, inner thighs, and dripping down the center of her ass until the entirety of the blanket under her became a dark, soaked spot the size of a dinner platter.

It was deep, messy, and incredibly real as they were about as close as two humans could get, her heart pounding at the vulnerability this sensation had elevated her to. This was dangerous, for no one should be this vulnerable with a near stranger. No one should feel the riskiness of what this might mean or entail, sullying the wave after wave of blissfulness that was so heady Jasmine literally felt weightless. It was several minutes before she came out of it...before she opened her eyes... before it was clear to both the world and her brutish lover that she had survived.

With cheeks as red as her hair, all she could do was stare up at him in awe. Micro twitches rained all down her body, and all through her pussy as it still milked at him, sucking him back in with soft wet squelching sounds, and her hands softly massaged the globes of his ass as she took in deep breaths, attempting to find air and the right words to say.

 

[Penitency]

There was nothing Jasmine could say or do to stop the things that Landon had set into motion the minute after her first climax; the brazen murderer now towering above her was setting the scene up to 'get his' now that she 'had hers.' No matter how much she hesitated, sputtering her 'waits' and reservations, the man threw her upon her back across the picnic she had recently set up for them despite being everything but romantic right now. No, this was something deeper, darker, more primal than courting one another. As the fireplace crackled and the rain pattered at their windows, Landon's demanding hands positioned her legs and his body imposed its much heavier weight upon her own beneath it. It was here she'd find the lack of control and threat of giving it all to the devil a real reality.

Was he going to abuse her with this new position; to show her who was truly in charge despite her attempts to vie for that while on top? Was he going to turn her ass red with his tapered hips and send that monumental cock hammering into her womb, beyond her cervix wall? Was Landon going to put her in her place for trying to plunge her fingers down his mouth as if she had free reign over telling him what to do, and how to do it? Landon remembered every minute of her ride in his muscled lap, and while she rode him satisfyingly so, there were some things in which our inked bad-boy knew he had to set right.

And to answer all those questions: fucking right he was.

Her pleads not to do what he was doing turned into curses, and that had Landon's warm lips grinning wickedly as he washed her calves and ankles in kisses, licks, and bites. At the same time, his v-cut hips were slapping right up against the back of her thighs and ass loudly. So loudly that the slaps of flesh on flesh probably carried downwards to the dead husband who once tried to protect this house, but ultimately failed because of Jasmine's bust and charm. Maybe it was the husband's hope to be the one doing this to Jasmine, but instead, he was dead on arrival and now the two who did the killing were enjoying one another instead. Besides, Landon figured he'd christen this house by making her scream and her pussy gush around that massive girth that stretched her wider than any of her lovers of the past.

Jasmine's hands would be free to roam, brush, and explore over the hardened nature of his tattooed torso. However, her beckoning and suggestion to join her on the floor wouldn't be paid any mind to. No, her words fell upon deaf ears as he pounded at her tight, velvet channel that hugged him something fierce. So much so that Landon never wanted to draw out of this channel she offered him; no, the muscular and murderous Adonis atop her wanted nothing more than to claim this, her, as his own on a more permanent basis. Beyond being one of the prettiest little things he had ever seen, she was matching doses of insanity and dark, carnal wants.

As her hands dug into his massive thighs, dragging and gripping at his muscle encouragingly, the man leaned in more so atop of her. In more of a push-up position, Landon's shoulder blades nearly kissed one another in rocky definition again. Looming pectorals grew taunt, hard, stretching outwards with the distance of his palms from one another while he blanketed her like a shield. Again and again his hips swung downwards, bouncing off the ample flesh to recoil up before hitting deep in a downward cut again. Sweat began to coat the man's chiseled figure and added a natural glow to the ink shifting, moving with his mass. Some of it had his wild hair sticking to his forehead, but his facial portrait looked so cool, relaxed, even as a moan or two escaped his warm lips.

Every one of his grunts were deep, gravely, as if approving of her tight fit but not giving too much away. No, she'd have to really earn his vocalization to get the man to go further than that calm and collected state, even if he was brutally pounding away with reckless abandon by now. With every downward slap, his hips stayed a second, rotating, grinding at her clit, ensuring his baby girl was getting the stimulation needed to turn her into nothing but a mindless little fleshlight in this very second. Her words, the squeal, on his way down toward her lips had him whispering low, "this is your fuckin' place, Jasmine. This is what you are. Cum, baby girl." He'd reinforce his words with the seal of his lips as her hands moved for his hard, iron-like ass.

Both elbows leaned into the floor besides her head now, mashing his front to her own and caging those tits against his chest. Landon wanted to slap, grope, and turn them a shade of red like her ass, but at this point he was fucking committed. Her words had him on it, still maintaining the speed and power that sent her rocking with him across the blanket. Her sudden seizing had him moaning now, hard, as he buried his head into the crook of her neck after their brush of lips and sloppy trade of tongues a second ago. His hair mingled with her own, brushing along her cheek, while he used that flexibility of hers to continue this, ensuring her pussy was so damn tight between the climax and position of her legs.

"Fuuuuck~~~!" His words sending a vibration right into her throat.

Her hold on his ass didn't stop him. Landon wanted to use her intense orgasm to reach his own, selfishly. And so, Landon continued to pound at her while he grit his teeth. She was so tight it almost hurt to do this, but he'd continue on like nothing happened despite her insides nearly tossing him out. No, his hips dug in more and made the liquid gushing from her than much longer than the norm. With her squirt, liquids dripping off his ass, thighs, and heavy balls, a squelch was no introduced at the summit of each thrust. A wet sheen between them kept her hot and welcoming, his own hips soon bottoming out.

As he held himself deep, the man began to empty himself into her unprotected womb like an obsessive lover. Landon ensured her legs were thrown up on him, which allowed him to remain balls deep, ensuring she got everything like the good girl she was at this deep of a depth. She'd feel his balls throbbing up against her slick ass, his head lifting back to look her in the eyes as he cooed with a killer grin, "good girl."

With that, the man let her legs slip from him if she so wished. Her hands were allowed to linger upon his ass. But through it all, even if she wanted to let go and let her legs slip at his sides so they could lay more 'together' atop of one another, the man remained deep inside of her. As thunder crackled outside, shaking the interior of their new home, he'd lick his lips and whisper again, "and if I did put a baby inside of you, at least it's mine." Speaking of all the times she yelled out 'baby' while he pounded her. The man wore his grin still, balls deep, and reached over for the bottle of Apple wine they had shared earlier. Landon's bicep blared, chest flexing under ink, as he swigged with the side of his head turned to her, hair a mess.

A flash of lightning washed over him before it was gone. When he had a mouthful, the man put the bottle down, gripped her jaw with the same hand tightly, and leaned in to funnel in that liquor right down her throat much like she had earlier as their lips created another tight seal. They were drinking to his possession of her, and the start of their obsessive love affair, little did she know.

 

[Bellatrixxx]

It just continued. On and on, the sensation of something being pulled from her soul out through her core went on for several, barely breathable minutes. This is what Death felt like, why those in the midst of it cried out to God while looking into their partner's eyes, living through a pleasure so complete every cell in the body sang along. Glimpses of Landon's eyes dotted her vision, those green guardians ever watching her through this divine moment where she saw literally stars. Her muscles turned to liquid, her heart pounded, and she must have been moaning to the ceiling so long and deeply that her throat stated to hurt from holding the continuous note of almost anguish.

In the distant audible horizon, Jasmine heard the sloppy, gushed inserts of his cock thrusting through her wet release, the dotting of her squirt landing still heavily across the blanket under her, growing in both length and volume the more he pumped. The angle, the speed, the thickness, the curve, the depth and aggression, all of it was strictly measured for Jasmine in the perfect cocktail that, once any woman drank from it, became utterly "crazy". The type of hostile obsession that had a woman demand, act out, even attack to get fucked by her chosen fiendish mate.

Every exhale was a soft sound, an 'ahh' after the inhale as she could do nothing but lay there, whimpering. Her fingers clutched into Landon's ass the moment his masculine grunt warned of his finishing moment, both encouraging and silently demanding that he mark her deep. She held him through it, shaking, pussy sucking him deeper with such internal pulling strength that his higher right ball threatened to be slurped inside. Every drop was soaked in, every atom of his essence embedded itself of her and took proverbial root. He may have viewed this a victory of his effect on her, to plant himself more firmly than any man before him. While -she- viewed this a victory for her spell on him, the obsessive casting of a woman made more powerful.

Perhaps it didn't matter who pulled the strings on the other more; perhaps all that mattered was the second he looked down at her and whispered "good girl" was the moment they *clicked* together. Her eyes blinked up at him with shimmering pools of chocolate, fully dilated in love. Congratulation, Landon. You've been 'chosen'.

Releasing her legs from his shoulders had her shapely limbs cascading down his sides. The smooth softness of her thighs surrounded his torso, her skin slick against his from the warm moisture on each of their skins. With knees pointed towards the other directly at the narrow point of his waist, Jasmine raised her little feet to plant them flat on the backs of his strong thighs. Her toes curled into the strong layer of his muscled skin, sometimes just sliding her inner thighs up and down his flanks. She was wiggling, almost dancing to get closer to him, subconsciously making sure they always had many points of contact. Her hands then ran all over his back, rubbing him, feeling him, even reaching up to cup his cheeks and lean up to kiss the portions of his jaw she could reach.

Kiss Kiss Kiss. Kissed his chin as he joked about conception. Smooched his bottom lip before he turned to reach for the Apple wine. Nuzzled her mouth along his cheek as he turned his head to take a mouthful. She was all over him, peppering his whole physical form from lips to toes with beaming grace and attention. Landon had successfully drilled through the iron armored exterior of Jasmine Burgos and had given the fluffy kitten of sunshine hidden inside a safe space to come out and play. This fortunately- or perhaps more unfortunately for him— was the other side of her. Usually hidden from the rest of the world, the brat disguises as something prickly to ward and challenge. But when all is realized to be safe, the squishy center is revealed in equally zealous dotting affection.

Landon gripped her jaw that softly puckered up her full lips for him, and parted mouths reunited in a toast to each other, Jasmine drinking down as much of the wine as she pleased. It was warmer from the cavern of his mouth, and several wet droplets tickled down the corners of her chin as she still worked her spiked lips against his. Hands squirming down his back, she gave a few internal -flexes- around his cock that was still buried inside of her, intentionally. The next sound she made was a chuckle, a giggle that grew softly until the kiss fell apart naturally. She blinked up at him, her lashes fanning against his.

"What took you so long finding me?" She whispered against his lips. As she spoke as if in secret, her right foot began to trail lightly down the back of his left leg, curling in then gliding back up. "Listen," she said, giving a curt nod.

"I want this. Even if all you can give me is a week—a few days, I want you. All of you. For however long you can give me." Her fingers dug into his back, the words hitting a strange depth inside of her as she risked his refusal. But life was too reckless, too short, too dangerous and miserable to waste time when you finally find something that makes you feel good. Every second alive nowadays was just a lucky miracle, just ask the previous owner’s of the home they were now enjoying; and Landon made her feel too amazing not to ask for more. It was the apocalyptic version of asking someone out on a date.

She gave him a smile, her teeth biting her bottom lip like a bunny before sending up a soft, short laugh to his ears. "Whether by my death or your abandonment of me...whichever comes last....I'll be yours." Her lips kissed his chin very...very softly.

"Without question."

 

[Penitency]

The gradual drop of her legs from his shoulders had them brushing down the hard flanks of his sides. The smooth nature of those plump thighs surrounding his torso added a warmth in which the fireplace nearby could not compare with. No, Jasmine provided something more and alluring than the crackling embers surrounding the stacked firewood. The embrace of her feet upon the back of his thighs was soothing, but did nothing to stop his dick from absolutely spasming within the clenching, massaging walls of her velvet chamber. With her touch, she'd find how big his thighs were in comparison to her lithe feet. The man allowed her to grasp and brush her hands along his back while he turned his head and collected the Apple wine.

It was like a god before his worshipper, doing something casually like drinking as she wrapped every appendage she could around him in a fit of worship. She could feel liquid filling his mouth, pressing against his cheeks, as she cupped them and kissed his iron jaw with the soft plant of her lips. Piercing blue eyes moved toward their corners, his head still turned away, to study her methods of worship with admiration of his own. She could see his irises softening some at the notion of her being his and vice-versa, his bicep straining, as he held up the jar to collect the wine needed for this intimate transfer: a relationship formed with a spit pact instead of blood.

The myriad of kisses planted upon him had the brute unphased, as if this was expected and required. No, she wasn't getting praise for doing something that should be in her nature while he busied himself with something else. It felt good, nonetheless. The roaming of her lips over his cheek, her affectionate nuzzling, and then her exploration upon his hardened upper torso was something that had his cock throbbing back to life within her channel out of raw instinct. On top of that, her feet were still sliding up his legs, ensuring the man was covered in her love like a spider would its victim. There came a point where Landon might have been wise to ask: 'am I the fly?'

He was then upon her, gripping her jaw and sloppily transferring the fluid he had collected in his own mouth. When a large majority of it was swallowed, some of it still trickling down her cheek and pooling at his palm, the man stroked his lips over her own to relish the flavor lingering there. The man tipped his head in the opposite direction, shifting, moving, turning to the rhythm of their passionate embrace under firelight. A moist smack of moisture came from every brush of their lips until pulled back, her insides flexing around his warm, wet cock still very much speared inside of her like it belonged.

Her giggling had him smiling wickedly above her, one hand lingering upon her face as the other mashed to the floor beside her face in order to let him elevate his body some from her own instead of awkwardly just laying atop of her. Her words had him pursing his lips, an amused huff escaping his nostrils audibly, "good things come with patience." The man had no real answer, but his beautiful redhead wasn't looking for them. The feeling of her foot moving along his muscle had him groaning low and cock spurting a few more dots of what might have been left in those thick, heavy balls. It was as if she wasn't already fill to the brim. There was no doubt it'd come pouring out of her tiny little channel after he withdrew as Landon was the cork in which stopped it from exiting.

Her words had Landon licking his lips, looking off to the fireplace, and thinking on it. Longer than he should have. Her hands upon his rippling back brought muscle to meet her fingertips. When she laughed again, the man's eyes looked back down at her to catch her biting her bottom lip. 'Fuck, she looks so good,' he thought to himself.

Jasmine's kiss to his chin had him staring down at her, as if still needing a second to figure out if it's what he wanted.

"As long as you understand a few things," he'd tip his head, looking her right in the eyes, "you're my bitch, here." To emphasize what he meant by here, the man thrusted his hips to make his dick sink in deeper inside of her. Obviously, he meant in bed, their private time together. "Some people might take the notion of 'belong to me' lightly, but if you truly want that, it means I will do whatever I damn well please with you. You'll know your place, even if I know you can be a brat seeking to test shit. In exchange..."

Now Landon would lean down like the devil explaining the terms of selling your soul, his shoulder blades kissing one another now as his hands mashed to the floor boards and curled at his fingers. The man's teeth found the side of her neck again, buried his face there, and bit playfully. That nip was tugged on before being released. Eyes came back to level with hers as he continued in that deep timber, "I'll protect you. I'll love you. I'll kill anyone who might threaten to take you from me or harm you. I am all or nothing. So if you're not willing to give me everything without question, like you said, I am gone."

The man would reach over for her neck with one hand, squeeze at her throat some, and pin the back of her skull to the floor. She was no longer allowed to kiss his chin, but the man used that set up to swipe her face with a swat, much like he would strike upon that bubbly ass. However, this time, he reddened one of her cheeks with his slap which was tempered and not all out. As he grinned, chuckling darkly, the man leaned down to make it right. He'd run his tongue along the red mark he had created upon her face while he continued to show his humor in it all. After his tongue ran the whole length of that fading, ever temporary little mark, he'd begin to kiss along it as well. One after the other came as he whispered against her while doing it.

"Say it again: tell me you'll give me everything," he sternly commanded, "say it again and I am yours."

 

[Bellatrixxx]

The roughened exterior of Landon's soul wasn't a proverbial mountain for Jasmine to climb.

It was a molehill. A tiny little bump on the emotional road to his heart that she intended to bowl right through. She didn't mind the way he expected the tenderness of her affection, the way he remained as still as a housecat when one scratched under their chin as she kissed and loved all over him. He liked it—liked her. That couldn't be denied. Not when he was a whole limb still buried inside of her and throbbing enough that she could feel his heartbeat in the center of his swollen flesh. It was virtually impossible for naked men to lie, so even when he turned his face to the fire in contemplation, hesitating against her offer, the rest of his body remained fully forward on her.

Jasmine loved the way he felt, the way he moved, his solid mass blanketing her even now. Every inch of him was carved of stone encased in a velvety layer of his skin, his body built for war while hers was built for pleasure. Her softness surrounded him from her thighs around his hips, her arms around his back, all the way through how her greedy little cunt still suctioned itself around him, the warm muscles frozen on that last inward pull, effectively trapping him inside of her until he decided to forcibly detach himself. She loved that he hadn't yet, choosing to think on her offer while still buried deep, weighing the scales to see if it was something he even wanted.

Of course it was also momentarily terrifying. Despite just having met him, Jasmine was whole-heartedly sold. He hadn't forced her to do anything she didn't want to do, in fact Landon had only given her an open field to play in, scampering around his sexuality like a mouse until fed and exhausted. Despite never before feeling this connected with another on her end, for all she knew this man fucked -everyone- he met with equal vigor, with equal centered focus. She could just be one of many to him, so she hoped she had really sold herself.

It was hard to wait for his answer, but she did. Her hands still massaged and moved down and across his back, feeling and paying attention to the way his muscles naturally moved and rolled under the attention, learning. And her feet remained on his thighs, toes fanned across the backs of Landon's knees as she stayed silent.

Despite their warm cocoon, Jasmine was still nervous. It was always hard to put oneself out there, and emotions were more volatile these days, not less. When he finally returned to look at her face, Landon would see a soft thread of worry woven in her dark eyes as they blinked up to him. Full lips parted, brows loose with wonder, her face softened during his pause as he finally began to speak, making sure to look at her directly. There would be no misconceptions here. No misunderstandings. There were terms on his side that she -must- agree to, and slowly as he said them, Jasmine's face began to light up.

When he gave her a meaty thrust to punctuate his meaning to her total submission to him in carnality, she gasped at the sore depth he could still reach even after their round. Her eyes blinked rapidly a few times, but never broke from his gaze. No, she needed to convince him that she had heard him, every word, and was agreeing to his terms with her eyes wide open in full understanding. When he called her a 'brat' she laughed, a hearty sound so at odds with their bloody surroundings. It was comforting that Landon realized who and what she was, the type of interchange that would come between them. Sure, she was a feisty thing that would need to be 'corrected' at times, but she would be -his- feisty thing, bending under only his correction. It was a telling thing about the man that he had caught onto her mannerisms so quickly, but perhaps that's why he was so magnetic to her. Landon wasn't threatened by her, nor was he seeking to change her or even control her out in the world. He was simply asking for absolute submission when they were like this, as they were. Together.

He dipped his head to her neck and Jasmine soon felt the sharp edges of his teeth tugging at the soft skin there before pulling back.

"I'll protect you. I'll love you. I'll kill anyone who might threaten to take you from me or harm you. I am all or nothing. So if you're not willing to give me everything without question, like you said, I am gone."

Jasmine's relief was obvious. It was a dark offer by a devil that she eagerly accepted, quickly took a bite of as she nodded with exuberance, fully committed. But before she could really respond, Landon sat up a bit to catch her throat under his large hand and keep her head pinned to the blanketed floor. Her hands fell from his back to lay back with elbows bent to land by her ears, and she maintained deep and visceral eye-contact with him, proving that however he wished to consummate this pact between them, she could handle it.

*Smack!* His other palm collided across her cheek and it jerked her head in the opposite direction briefly before she spun it back to the center as if ready for another one. It was but a taste to what he offered, what his darkness contained if she wished to continue down this path. Landon was, in effect, giving her one final chance to retreat, to decide that maybe his demands, his tastes, his -touch- might be too intimidating and degrading for her. If he was looking for her refusal...he would be sorely disappointed.

Jasmine giggled as if he had just tickled her even as her cheek grew warm from the slap. Her ankles locked together down his back and she -arched- as her arms stretched high and wide above her head. Fully exposed and her spine bending like an archer's bow, her heavy breasts were lifted high in offering, and the surrender of her arms illustrated how helpless against him she really was. The bent position inadvertently tightened her abdominal core powerfully and her vaginal walls reclaimed its encased grip around his length with a power that would remind the man that she was not without her own weapons against him. He came closer to show the mark on her cheek proper affection, dolling out pain and pleasure in equal and perfect measures, and Jasmine -shivered-, eyes falling almost completely closed at the feel of his tongue and tender kisses on her cheek.

He wanted her to say it again? To reaffirm her commitment and seal this pact between them? His words were commanding, almost daring her to agree like the devil he was. Jasmine smiled, immediately becoming a fucking poet.

"I'm yours, Landon." Her hands lifted from over her head to come between them, planting soft palms upon his broad chest. They cupped directly under the curve of his pectorals, her thumbs sweeping across the peaks of his nipples with the motion of a windshield wiper on a car. "And you're mine. Mine. I want to learn every secret you possess, to bask in your darkness and show you how I can take it. I want to hold you every second you'll let me, and every command and desire you wish will be met with a 'Yes'." Her voice was becoming a little breathless, her warmth rising with his hand on her throat as it only cut off just enough air to make the blood rush erotically to her head.

"Yes, Daddy." The title was offered, tasted, and simply felt right to whisper to him, to plead to him. "I'll give you -everything-, this whole world if you wanted it. I will build up or burn down anything for you because to me, the only thing that will ever matter is your pleasure, both out there—" she paused to make it clear she was referring to the horrors outside and everything it entailed. "And in here." Just like he did earlier, when she said 'here', Jasmine made a few moves to prove she was talking about their intimacy. First, she sent a wave down her torso, starting from a subtle flex at her shoulders, down, down in a supreme roll that ended at the lift and flex of her pelvis. She did it again, only this second time her feet untangled from his waist to fall flat onto the floor on either side of his legs, so this round when she rolled and it reached below, she -pushed- upwards using her planted feet, almost lifting Landon's hips upwards in a sensual invitation for him to take her. She held that lifted position for a few seconds, her throat groaning as her body shook gently under him. Her channel had reawakened, and the hundreds of muscle fibers within began to micro-flex along his shaft all over again.

The second thing she did when she said 'here' was her nails dug a little into his chest, curling in with greed enough to mark little crescent shapes into his skin for a brief time before the fingertips swept down to capture both of his nipples outrightly. Bold and brazen, Jasmine fed him -her- equal measures of what she would always give him: obedience and disobedience, of submission and challenge as her hips lifted and undulated, silently begging him to fuck her a third time while she gave an obstinate twist at his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

Jasmine then cackled gently like a mad witch, her hips now bucking upwards against him in short jabbing motions like a thirsty whore. She needed him. Again. "Come here, Daddy," she purred the invitation like a carnivorous siren to a dazzled sailor, her fingertips still tugging at him. "Come to your doll, your kitten, your pet, and show me how much you love me..."

That's when she stopped practically all movements and even softened her touch, pausing it all to look up into his eyes with full dedication. She gave him a soft smile, the gentle look of need as her hands traveled now up the sides of his neck to affectionally cup both of his cheeks.

"...please?" She whispered, writhing under him in anticipation. The pads of her thumbs caressed his strong cheekbones. "Please, Daddy?"