requests; response six
Who: Daken, a whole bunch of people [names in the tags]
Where: Here, there, everywhere
What: Daken, if allowed off the leash, and a look at the very naughty things he could do.
Rating: NC-17, very very very adult
Warning: Contains allusions to rape, dub-con, marking, bondage, blood play, rough sex, possessiveness, and sexual violence. Do Not Read if Squeemish.
For: greenhaired, who asked for 'Daken getting his creepy freak on with everyone possible. Not at the same time -although that'd be kinda cool. But just scenes from it. Creepy, creepy, stalkery psycho sex.' Darling, you are disturbed. ILY. ♥
Also, for mongrelverine and movetheearth, who gave me no peace.
Adrian:
The poor kid probably didn't even know what was going on. One second he's drying off in the locker room, the next he's pressed against the lockers, groaning against a tongue in his mouth that isn't his and grasping at strong shoulders. Daken doesn't care if the kid is green or not, if this is 'all so sudden' or if it's exactly what the boy needs. He's just worked up and blowing off the steam, too bad for the kid being in the wrong place -or the right one.
He does a quick prep job, not through any kind of concern, but he can't really afford to have to deal with Sykes' doubt right then, and really, it's more fun when they aren't crying. Most of the time. Turning Adrian around, pressing him into the lockers, Daken bites a nice big mark into the kids shoulder, grinning into it as the gasp and slight whine reaches his ears. The pheromones might start things up in the best way, but Daken can smell the boys arousal.
The slide in is smooth; steady and measured to avoid that annoying niggling doubt some people start to get, those protests that go ignored anyway. Adrian arches back, hands pressing to the lockers for leverage, his back curving as he pushes back to Daken, getting into the rhythm and staying with it. There's a grin on Daken's face as he picks it up, running a hand up the back of Adrian's neck, threading it into his hair and pulling his head back, exposing the long line of vulnerable throat.
It would take one movement, just the one and then the skin there would part and the blood would just flow. Growling, Daken leans in, biting along Adrian's throat sharply and with a jerk of the hips, the kid's lost, moaning and spilling over the lockers without a single touch to his cock. With a few brutal thrusts, Daken reaches peak, his hand running along Adrian's side before he clenches his teeth and releases the claws from his knuckles, scoring two lines along the kid's ribcage.
It's not the gasp, or the reflective clenching from the pain that sends Daken over, but the flaring scent of blood in the air and the feral groans and comes, hand tightening to painful levels in Adrian's hair as he does so.
There's no afterglow, no touchy-feely talking about stuff. Daken just pulls out, wipes off and pats the boys head like he's a pet before walking off. He's hungry, at least this time it's for food.
--
Alice:
The punch to the face makes him stagger, the swift sweep of a leg under his floors him and Daken barely gets his barrings back quick enough to avoid the mat beside his head exploding. He rolls to a crouch, glaring at the woman who has this ridiculous smirk on her face. Oh, he'd underestimated her, that was about to change.
And he was going to wipe that smirk off her face.
He pounces with a feign to the left, heading right at the last second. She only just swerves out of the way from the claw, her body twisting and ducking, moving fluid through the space left there. It's easy to twist it round, bring a left hook around that catches her shoulder, a knee up to her stomach, only she gets an ankle around his shin and rolls and they both end up down.
There's a scrabble for the upper hand, Alice gets it with another fist to his jaw, and fuck that woman needs to stop hitting his face. She gets enough of an opening to get the upper hand there out, straddling him and laying out the punches, and Daken reacts with a flare of movement, surging up and taking her with him, twisting and pinning her into the mat. With her legs still around his waist there isn't exactly much to stop her feeling just how hard he is; fighting does it, adrenaline and anticipation. The fact that winning does it for him, even when he hasn't won yet.
For a moment, she's stunned into inactivity, before her hands start to come up and Daken has learned to be wary of those. He grabs at her wrists, leaning forward and pinning her hands to the mat with his hands over hers, pressing his weight down to keep them there while rocking his hips up. Oh, but that feels good, pressing into that spread of her legs. It'd be so easy, easy to just rip off the sweats she's wearing for training, get himself free and then sink in. One hell of a pay off for all those punches to the jaw.
But he underestimates her again, and she rolls them, twisting her hips up into his and pushing her weight over -where the fuck did this woman come from- and he's about to mourn the loss of a good release, when she's sat atop him, likely to just sock him one again and walk away. He's debating how worthwhile it would be to chase her if she did. Instead, she hooks her feet under his thighs, pulling his legs apart a bit before grinding down onto him, rocking her hips forward onto him and, Christ he can smell her.
He's not put an ounce of his pheromones into it, but there she is, practically riding his cock through their clothes. He lets go of her hands, pretty sure she's not about to blow up his head with the way she's bucking into him, gripping her hips and pressing up harder, rubbing into her. God, this would be so much better without clothes; he wants to fuck her until she screams, until she's begging for it, until she stinks of want and arousal and need.
Her head dips and she groans, and the scent spikes, he can tell she's come just from the smell in the air and just one last press down of her hips and a push of him into that snug, hot curve between her legs and he's there too. The fact that he just came in his slacks doesn't bother him, he could go another round in a few minutes and fuck, that'd be good, pinning her down and fucking her for real. Actually hear her begging for it, knock her down a few fucking pegs.
She stands up though, her foot pressing into his chest and he just smirks up at her, like they didn't spend fifteen minutes beating each other and then the last five rubbing off. "Thanks, sweetheart." And she flicks her wrist to blow up another portion of the mat, right beside his hips before walking off. Forget fucking her, he's going to rip her throat out.
--
Emma:
If those bastards shot him just one more time with those stupid dart guns, he was going to ram one down their throats. And then pull the trigger. He was groggy, and disorientated, and confused as to just what the fuck was going on. He's in a cell, it's a small cell and he doesn't have a window, there's blood over the front of his shirt, and he's aware that it's his own because his side is still tingling from the healed wound.
The door creaks open, Daken staggered slightly as he shifts to get up and into a defensive stance before there's a blur of white and a body barrelling into his. His back hit the wall, hands moving to grip whatever -no, whoever, was just thrown at him. Scent told him it was Frost, and Daken held back the growl. "Little close, don't you think?"
"It would help, immensely, if you would pull back your fucking pheromones." He wasn't pushing them, he wasn't even using them at all. His hands found her waist either way, stroking along the flesh there, she never did wear much in the way of clothing, her uniform for missions was white skin tight leather pants and a fucking strip around her tits for Christ sake.
"I'm not doing anything." He was tired, and pissed off, and aching from head to toe. She didn't move away though, letting his hands trail over her ribs and around to her back, finger tips brushing along perfectly smooth, flawless skin. "Well, with the pheromones anyway." Even tired, and pissed off, he wasn't about to push a warm body away, even one as infuriating as Emma Frost.
"You are," her fingers pressed against the unhealed marks of where the darts hit, careful with pressure as she drew them along the line of his neck, "what did they hit you with?" The marks stung, it was irritating that they hadn't healed yet, but that was it, just an irritation.
"Darts." It should be strange, he should push her away, get angry, get out and kill something. Instead he's leaning back against the wall with her pressed along his front, the touches aren't rushed, he's not pushing towards anything. If he wanted to, he could fuck her. Mark her and make Victor see it, see just what he'd done. But he's not, and he doesn't know why.
"Drugs. If they just wanted you incapacitated they'd shoot you, you'd heal but it would give them enough time. Why drugs?" He gets the impression that she's not actually talking to him, from the way that she brushes her nose up his jaw, her breath ghosting along his throat. "They have plans for something, your powers aren't under control right now." He doesn't believe her, she's just guessing. He could make her angry, that would prove it. Except he doesn't, he tries but she just stays were she is, calm and docile. It's unnerving to have her calm and docile.
"What's going on?" She'd been outside, wherever they were, that was where the blood on her came from, surely. Smearing on her pants along her thigh, a graze above her hip where she'd rubbed against something or been hit. There's blood in the corner of her mouth though, he's willing to bet someone smacked her -she ran her mouth off just like anyone else, infuriated with her snark and her smart comments, no wonder someone smacked her, he wanted to smack her sometimes, he'd put money on Ethan wanting to smack her sometimes.
"We're going to be livid in the morning, pet. Rescues on it's way." Her lips brushed his cheek, her hand by the marks on his neck slipping around his shoulder while the other ran down his chest, along his ribs. Daken was trying to figure out just why this didn't feel sexual, where was the charge, where was the need, the arousal. Why in the hell was this -soothing? comforting?- so fucking innocent. "You, dearest, are fucked. Try not get shot when we're getting out of here, you probably won't heal."
"What?"
"I can hear your thoughts." It startled him enough that she moved back slightly, "Don't worry, I'm too blissed out to bother reading your mind."
"Blissed out, eh?"
"Your hands are on my butt and I'm perfectly content to just stand here while we're meant to be escaping. What does that tell you?"
Daken grinned, "I'm just that good." He didn't let her get the comment out though, pressing his mouth over hers and immensely pleased with himself when she practically melted into his body, mouth opening under the touch of his tongue.
You even think about marking me, and I'll rip your balls off.
--
Ethan:
Sometimes, Ethan liked to lie in. It didn't happen often, but he enjoyed the later rise on a Sunday purely because it was his one non-military indulgence morning. It meant staying in bed an extra half hour, taking a longer than usual shower and skipping his morning run. Few people knew about the difference in his schedule and he liked it that way, it meant he wasn't bothered.
What was even better, was the slow rise to consciousness rather than the sharp jolt from the alarm. The last vestiges of sleep lingered and the dream hung around, whispers of an enjoyable dream still playing behind his eyes. Ethan couldn't help but sigh, a sort of easy pleasure rolling through him. A warm, wet heat and...
Ethan's hips bucked up, pressing into the heat when he realised it wasn't the remnants of a dream, mouth falling open as he grunted slightly. A hand stroked along his thigh, fingers pressing against his muscles and making his legs shake, even as his hips rolled upwards again, pressing deep into a wet, tight throat.
The pooling lust in his gut told him all he needed to know. Daken. It was irrational that it made his hips jerk up again, a moan low in his throat as he met no resistance. Opening his eyes, finally letting the dream slip away completely, Ethan was met with the sight of a bobbing head under the sheet. He had the option of closing his eyes again and imagining anyone he wanted, or pushing the sheet aside and just go with it.
Daken moaned in the back of his throat, sending vibrations along Ethan's spine and that was that. Ethan's hand slid under the sheet, pushing it aside and gripping the back of Daken's neck, hips pressing up, "Fuck, yes." If anything Daken appeared to get a little more enthusiastic; throat tightening around Ethan, tongue laving along the underside, an addition to the suction around his cock.
With the warmth, the tightness of Daken's throat and the shaky jerks up into that heat, Ethan grunted, hand clenching on the back of Daken's neck as a warning. There was another rumble of a moan, Ethan's toes curling as the heat pooled in his gut and spiked, and Daken just lifted back to swallow down, throat milking Ethan through his orgasm.
Licking up the tip, drawing back slight, Daken smirked as Ethan lay back, spent and boneless, fingers stroking up the back of the ferals neck and into his hair. That smirk was still on Daken's face as he crawled over the bed, getting a raised eyebrow from Ethan until he leaned down, nipping lightly at Ethan's jaw before kissing him, tongue slipping past pliant lips and trailing through Ethan's mouth, licking another taste out of him.
"Rise and shine, Captain, we've got things to do today." And Daken clambered off the bed in a graceful leap, leaving Ethan with half his senses and a mild confusion. He was going to have to talk boundaries to the feral again.
--
Julio:
Ric's back slammed against the wall, back of his head hitting it with a dull thump before his front was covered, mouth caught in another kiss as hands attacked his belt and jeans. "Fuck," against every judgement in his mind, Rictor pressed into those hands, his own hands pulling at clothing to get to skin, "I hate you, so much. God." Ric's head thumped against the wall again, teeth biting along his throat painfully, hard enough to tear the skin, making Ric buck his hips and pull away. "Shit."
"You'll be begging for it, fucking pussy." Daken shoved Ric's jeans to the floor, stripping out of his own clothes in a flash and grabbing Ric by the hair, pulling him away from the wall into a violent kiss and pushing him towards the table in the room. With a bite to Ric's lip, piercing the skin and drawing blood, Daken twists away, pushing Ric over the table, pinning him there with a hand in the middle of his back. "You'll be fucking desperate for it," sliding a hand down, fingers teasing at the dip of Ric's ass, "split you open and fuck you 'til you scream, bitch."
Rictor felt his cheeks heat, arousal and embarrassment spiking in equal measures as Daken's fingers pressed teasingly at his hole. He was about to protest, because it was dry and that was not on, but his words left him in a gasp as his ass was spread and Daken's tongue licked over his hole, pressing against the muscle and pushing the tip inside. A ridiculous whine escaped him at the press of heat and wet inside, his hips pushing back for more while his open palms braced him on the table. Daken laughed, the sound tingling along Ric's spine as a long finger slid into him along with the tongue. "Dios," he had to bite on his knuckle, grunting as a second finger slid in, far too soon, the burn aching slightly.
"Fucking slut for it, aren't you." Ric heard a tear, his heart hammering in his chest as his hips rocked back on Daken's fingers, unable to make a remark past the moan and whine in this throat. Daken pressed in a third, slick finger, scissoring out for a stretch before withdrawing. Then there's the press of a blunt head, and Daken is half way inside Rictor before he even thinks to protest the lack of condom. "No, no. Just like this, having you all spread out, little whore. Come on, you fucking love it." Daken's hips pumped forward, thrusting all the way in, lighting Ric's nerves alight. Even with the added lube, it was tight and hot and fuck, Ric was aching for it.
"Bastard, shit," the pace built, hard and fast and deep, and Rictor couldn't move except to rock back onto each thrust, Daken gripping his hips tight, no doubt leaving bruises. Daken leans over, teeth biting at each knot of Ric's spine, leaving imprints and changing the angle, pressing in deep and hard and Rictor sees stars as his prostate is abused. Everything clenches as he curses up a storm, Daken catching Ric's stiff cock just before he orgasms, stroking him through it and only making Rictor hate him that much more. One hand in Ric's hair, Daken yanks him back, bending him at the spine in an awkward angle, his other hand, sticky with Ric's come pressed against his lips.
"Come on, princess." Ric parts his lips and two fingers slid in, mimicking Daken's thrusts as he fucks Ric's mouth and ass. "Oh, yeah, c'mon, lick them clean, that's it." Ric nipped at the pad on Daken's fingers, clenching his ass at the same time and Daken grunted as he came, pulling his fingers out of Ric's mouth. "Fuck."
Rictor lay sprawled out, ignoring the slightly ache in his hips as Daken pulled back, ignoring the cool feeling of come leaking from his ass, until Daken pressed into his back again, this time with his pants back on. "Was that so bad, princess?" A hand stroking through Rictor's hair, Daken leans back over him, biting into Ric's shoulder and sparking a hiss, before laying a mocking kiss on Ric's cheek and chuckling as he walked out.
--
Lorna:
"This is a really weird way of getting your own back." Not that Daken was complaining, not really. He was just pointing it out. He was surprisingly accommodating when he was shoved back, hitting the bed and sprawling over it.
"I'm a spoiled little princess, I get everything I want, and I want you to shut up and let me ride you." Tossing the last of her clothes to the floor, Lorna shifted to straddle him, picking up the condom from beside her and tearing it open. "It's calculated and catty, don't even pretend you're not on board with this." Her hand sheathing his erection with the condom squeezed just shy of too tight and Daken bared his teeth.
"There is far too much talking going on right now." Lorna answered him with a glare, tossing her hair over her shoulder and seating herself on his cock in one movement. "Fucking Christ," hands on her hips, Daken hissed through his nose, watching her rock herself on him, knees pressing into the bed by his hips before she found a rhythm, rising and falling and practically swallowing his cock.
"How many times, shit, did you say you could go?"
"Fucking loads, baby, fuck yeah." Sliding his hands up her torso, thumbs pressing into her ribs before cupping her breasts, Daken's hips press up into Lorna's pace, tilting his hips to catch just right. "Jesus, darling, fucking tight little bitch, ain't you." With a loud moan, Lorna clenched, back arching and a smirk on her face that he could appreciate for what it was, scorned woman out for vengeance.
"Harder, c'mon, harder." Grabbing her hips again, Daken twisted them, pushing her down under him and pulling her leg up.
"Oh, I'll give you harder." She managed a low chuckle before it stemmed off into a moan, his thumb rubbing over her clit as he slammed his hips forward, pushing into her with abandon as she flexed and arched upwards.
One thing was for sure, when Frost took a peek into Lorna' head, she'd see just what Lorna wanted.
--
Mac:
It was the alcohol, he knew, and she tasted like cheap beer and cheaper vodka, but her hand was in his pants before he even bothered to care and frankly, it wasn't his problem she was easy.
He expected a drunken blowjob, he expected her on her knees outside the bar. He didn't expect her to push him into the wall, open his pants to push them down his thighs while she was licking into his mouth, didn't expect the rough slide of her hand over his cock while she pulled back sucked two of her own fingers into her mouth before she pulled him back and turned him around.
He would have something to say about it, as her wet fingers pressed at his ass, her hand still stroking his cock in a slow, steady pace, thumb circling the head and flicking teasingly at the underside. Her fingers stroked inside him, pressing deep and nudging his prostate, her grip loosening just a little as he started to press back onto her fingers and buck forward to the grip, fucking her hand and then fucking himself on her fingers.
"Take you back to the garage," her lips brush his ear, a fleeting touch of her tongue as she licks her lips, her hand pressing another finger into his ass and her grip tightening, making his grunt and buck back. "Got all sorts of toys, pretty sure could wear you out. Fuck you good and proper, ride your face until you're aching and then let you fuck me until I'm sore, hmm?"
When she bit his earlobe, nudged her fingers up and dragged the thumb over the slit of his cock, he was gone, shoulders tense as he came against the wall, low groan in his throat. She stroked him through it, her fingers pulling out carefully, before she tucked him back into his pants and gave his cock a gentle pat. "C'mon, pet, I have plans for you."
Shit but that was better than a blowjob.
--
Rogue:
"Stop fuckin' around an' get me outta these." She tugged at the chains again, wrists twisting uselessly as her legs tried to pull up. The chains were made of some metal she couldn't break, but Daken they'd just thrown in a cell and after he'd dislocated both his shoulders, he'd managed to slip through the bars before knocking his shoulders back in place.
"This is," he stood right in front of her, finger tapping on his chin, "intriguing." She tugged again, almost wanting to kick him in the face. "I mean, we know they aren't coming back, so,"
"Whatever is runnin' through y'r head, stop it right now, or Ah'm gonna,"
"Gonna what? All tied up Roguie, can't do anything." His grin was enough to make her shiver. He moved to stand right in front of her, eyes running over her like she were a piece of meat that he was about to shred, and Rogue felt the first tendril of fear shift in her body. "I mean, there isn't really anything I couldn't do right now." His fingers trailed along the top of her thigh, stroking from her knee to the curve of her hip, down the line of her pelvis to her crotch, hand cupping her through her pants.
The gasp was completely unbidden, along with the hitch of her hips as she pressed into his hand, biting on her lip. "Y' need me," she gasped out, swallowing past the lump in her throat, "y' need me t' get outta here. Ain't no way y'r doin' it y'rself." Her heartbeat was hammering, her cheeks heating as she tried to move back from him but had no leverage.
"C'mon, sweetheart, we've got plenty of time."
"Don't'cha remember what Ah do? Y' that thick headed?" There was a bite to her tone, even as he stepped closer, hips almost pressing to hers, his breath catching her hair slightly. "Y' wanna end up passed out on the floor again?" What really annoyed her was that spiral of arousal, she worked so hard to push those down, to never feel them, he was such an asshole and if they made it out of there she was going to smash his face through a wall.
"You have no imagination," his hand shifted to the button on her trousers, flicking it open and tugging the zipper down, his eyes never leaving hers and that smirk pissing her off. "Haven't you ever gotten a little adventurous? Hmm? Never played around?" She was about to flinch back from his fingers along her stomach, but the smooth glide of leather stopped her and Rogue frowned.
"What're y' doin'?" Her voice took a completely different tone, the odd feeling sparking goosebumps along her skin. Sure, she'd been touched before, Rictor used to cuddle her through layers of clothes, but this was decidedly more intimate than anything she'd ever experienced. "Back off an' get me outta here."
"Yeah, in a couple of minutes, I'm entertaining myself first." His hand turned to cup her again, this time sliding under her clothes and brushing along her folds. The chuckle from him told her he was smug with himself, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and even as she protested, he'd know what she actually wanted.
The first finger slid into her, making her gasp and pull away, Daken's other hand gripping her hip and stilling her as he pushed deeper inside her. It felt so different, it wasn't like she was abstinent, but someone else touching her, even through the leather gloves, maybe because of them, it just made her muscles tremble and her heart rate soar. Daken pressed in closer, his hips pressing against her leg as he inhaled beside her throat. "Isn't this so much better than escaping?" She couldn't say anything, not with a second finger sliding into her, pressing deep and stroking along her, the ridges on the gloves so different from her own slim fingers.
Her hips bucked forward, head tilting back and Daken started thrusting his fingers in and out of her, pressing his thumb to her clit and rubbing circles into her, his own cock rubbing at her leg through his pants. His hand on her hip slid up, stroking her breast through her shirt, running up her throat and his thumb stroking over her bottom lip before he pulled it back, his open palm running over her stomach, pushing her shirt up and slowly extending his two claws.
"Don't."
"Oh, but you'll like this, baby." Pushing her shirt out of the way, pressing his fingers up into her hard, Daken pushed the claws along her rib cage, tearing the skin and making her jerk and cry out. She bucked onto his fingers, feeling release shoot through her at the pain in her side and the hard press of his thumb into her clit. She hung from the chains, shaking slightly and clenching around his fingers as he pulled her hip closer, staring at the blood rolling down her side before he grunted and went rigid against her.
She took a moment to get her breathing under control, to make sure her voice wouldn't shake, "Y' done playin' y'r games now? Ready t' get outta here?" He smirked as he withdrew his fingers, licking his gloves like a cat.
"Yeah, lets go kill things."
--
Ophelia:
Pheromones on their own were bad enough, mix it with an empath with questionable boundaries and eclectic taste at the best of times and it was just a big bad idea trying to blow up.
Daken's never really been affected by his own pheromones, never really gotten lost in the haze before. Only this is like a mist that doesn't lift. It's probably the haze that gets them there, mind swimming with God knows what and just this urgent need to claim and own and have. She's all smooth and pale and creamy, folding under his hand and bruises rising to the skin fast; marks on the delicate lines of her shoulders, on the slim curve of her hip, the smooth flesh of her arms. It's not enough though, even as she melts into him, as her legs clench around his hips and draw him in, her body undulating like liquid and her skin flaring with heat.
At first, he just draws his nail down the middle of her chest, watching the red line stand out stark against her pale white skin. The skin rises around the scratch, red and vibrant, like her hair, spilling around her head like a halo of blood and Daken growls in the back of his throat, pressing his hips into her wildly. She moans and sighs and practically purrs, even though he could break her in his grip.
Bracing one hand at her shoulder, just beside her head, he bites at the curve of her throat, where her neck and shoulder meet, licking over the teeth imprint up to her ear, his breath hot against her skin, "Will you bleed for me? Hmm, will you paint the bed with your blood, darling?" She practically mewls at him, this spike of lust hitting him like a solid wall, and he almost wants to turn her over and slam into her without abandon.
One claw slides out from his fist, pressing against her shoulder and drawing down, slow and deliberate and shallow, blood welling under the tip. He drags a line from her shoulder to the swell of her breast, letting the blood gather on the skin while she arches and whines, biting at her bottom lip. The scent batters him, and trust her to smell sweet rather than metallic, and he just has to taste her. His tongue chases the beads of blood, lapping at the wound and she writhes against him, her hips pushing into his as a long whine breaks from her throat.
She's getting off on it and that's getting him off on it more than he gets off on it himself. It's like a cycle that just flares out of control and burns through him and fuck she's crazy in the best possible way for this. He leans over her again, dragging another line parallel to the first, just a little deeper to watch it bleed more. She twists into it, hand gripping to his shoulder, nothing but need and want and desire pulsing from her and into him and the way she ruts her hips up, trying to fuck herself on his cock but getting nowhere while he has her hips pinned down. His tongue drags from her shoulder to the swell of her breast, down to the nipple, smearing the blood around her skin and listening to her whimper and gasp, feeling that steady thump of need.
Pushing up, Daken resumes a steady pace, fucking into her, a hand sliding through her hair and gripping tight, tugging her head back and arching her body up. His claw slices a neat little cut over her other breast, the blood trickling down over her skin, catching on the nipple and Daken dips forward to suck it off, biting at the puckered nipple and laving up the blood, licking until every trace of it's gone.
He pulls her closer again, hearing the gasp as her back nearly bends, her legs spreading wide around his hips and Daken grunts, thrusting into her without rhythm or pace and dragging his claw over her thigh just as he climaxes, pushing her to that stage at the exact same second and both of them riding it out in a haze of need and desire and pain.
When he comes back to himself, she's lying out beside him on the bed, blood smeared over her breasts and the slice on her thigh trickling blood along her leg, down to the other and obscenely pooling between her legs. He has the ridiculous urge to lick her clean.
So he does.
--
Spencer:
It's just to kill the boredom, pushing the pheromones until he breaks and then just pushing him through the door. The biggest thrill isn't the sex, it's the fact that he can push the boy into this, and that it'll piss off that Collins bitch something fierce.
"C'mon, that's it." He's slow at pushing in, letting Spencer get used to it, hand cradling his head as his hips push forward, Spencer opening his mouth and letting Daken push in. "Oh yeah," it's all tentative, Spencer licking carefully and sucking lightly, and Daken takes his own sweet time.
His hips press deeper, pushing more in, pulling back and slowly starting to fuck Spencer's mouth, taking care not to choke him because he's not interested in having his cock bitten right then. Spencer just opens his mouth wider, flattens his tongue to the base of Daken's cock and lets him, groaning just occasionally around Daken.
It's easy to get to that point, to get to the brink and then he pulls out of that nice, warm mouth, hand stroking his cock fast and dirty and then he grunts, coming on Spencer's face, strips of come hitting his cheek and nose and lips and fuck, he licks his lips and Daken just grins, leaning in to share the taste.
"You should really clean that up." And having gotten what he came for, Daken fastens up and leaves the room.
--
Where: Here, there, everywhere
What: Daken, if allowed off the leash, and a look at the very naughty things he could do.
Rating: NC-17, very very very adult
Warning: Contains allusions to rape, dub-con, marking, bondage, blood play, rough sex, possessiveness, and sexual violence. Do Not Read if Squeemish.
For: greenhaired, who asked for 'Daken getting his creepy freak on with everyone possible. Not at the same time -although that'd be kinda cool. But just scenes from it. Creepy, creepy, stalkery psycho sex.' Darling, you are disturbed. ILY. ♥
Also, for mongrelverine and movetheearth, who gave me no peace.
Adrian:
The poor kid probably didn't even know what was going on. One second he's drying off in the locker room, the next he's pressed against the lockers, groaning against a tongue in his mouth that isn't his and grasping at strong shoulders. Daken doesn't care if the kid is green or not, if this is 'all so sudden' or if it's exactly what the boy needs. He's just worked up and blowing off the steam, too bad for the kid being in the wrong place -or the right one.
He does a quick prep job, not through any kind of concern, but he can't really afford to have to deal with Sykes' doubt right then, and really, it's more fun when they aren't crying. Most of the time. Turning Adrian around, pressing him into the lockers, Daken bites a nice big mark into the kids shoulder, grinning into it as the gasp and slight whine reaches his ears. The pheromones might start things up in the best way, but Daken can smell the boys arousal.
The slide in is smooth; steady and measured to avoid that annoying niggling doubt some people start to get, those protests that go ignored anyway. Adrian arches back, hands pressing to the lockers for leverage, his back curving as he pushes back to Daken, getting into the rhythm and staying with it. There's a grin on Daken's face as he picks it up, running a hand up the back of Adrian's neck, threading it into his hair and pulling his head back, exposing the long line of vulnerable throat.
It would take one movement, just the one and then the skin there would part and the blood would just flow. Growling, Daken leans in, biting along Adrian's throat sharply and with a jerk of the hips, the kid's lost, moaning and spilling over the lockers without a single touch to his cock. With a few brutal thrusts, Daken reaches peak, his hand running along Adrian's side before he clenches his teeth and releases the claws from his knuckles, scoring two lines along the kid's ribcage.
It's not the gasp, or the reflective clenching from the pain that sends Daken over, but the flaring scent of blood in the air and the feral groans and comes, hand tightening to painful levels in Adrian's hair as he does so.
There's no afterglow, no touchy-feely talking about stuff. Daken just pulls out, wipes off and pats the boys head like he's a pet before walking off. He's hungry, at least this time it's for food.
--
Alice:
The punch to the face makes him stagger, the swift sweep of a leg under his floors him and Daken barely gets his barrings back quick enough to avoid the mat beside his head exploding. He rolls to a crouch, glaring at the woman who has this ridiculous smirk on her face. Oh, he'd underestimated her, that was about to change.
And he was going to wipe that smirk off her face.
He pounces with a feign to the left, heading right at the last second. She only just swerves out of the way from the claw, her body twisting and ducking, moving fluid through the space left there. It's easy to twist it round, bring a left hook around that catches her shoulder, a knee up to her stomach, only she gets an ankle around his shin and rolls and they both end up down.
There's a scrabble for the upper hand, Alice gets it with another fist to his jaw, and fuck that woman needs to stop hitting his face. She gets enough of an opening to get the upper hand there out, straddling him and laying out the punches, and Daken reacts with a flare of movement, surging up and taking her with him, twisting and pinning her into the mat. With her legs still around his waist there isn't exactly much to stop her feeling just how hard he is; fighting does it, adrenaline and anticipation. The fact that winning does it for him, even when he hasn't won yet.
For a moment, she's stunned into inactivity, before her hands start to come up and Daken has learned to be wary of those. He grabs at her wrists, leaning forward and pinning her hands to the mat with his hands over hers, pressing his weight down to keep them there while rocking his hips up. Oh, but that feels good, pressing into that spread of her legs. It'd be so easy, easy to just rip off the sweats she's wearing for training, get himself free and then sink in. One hell of a pay off for all those punches to the jaw.
But he underestimates her again, and she rolls them, twisting her hips up into his and pushing her weight over -where the fuck did this woman come from- and he's about to mourn the loss of a good release, when she's sat atop him, likely to just sock him one again and walk away. He's debating how worthwhile it would be to chase her if she did. Instead, she hooks her feet under his thighs, pulling his legs apart a bit before grinding down onto him, rocking her hips forward onto him and, Christ he can smell her.
He's not put an ounce of his pheromones into it, but there she is, practically riding his cock through their clothes. He lets go of her hands, pretty sure she's not about to blow up his head with the way she's bucking into him, gripping her hips and pressing up harder, rubbing into her. God, this would be so much better without clothes; he wants to fuck her until she screams, until she's begging for it, until she stinks of want and arousal and need.
Her head dips and she groans, and the scent spikes, he can tell she's come just from the smell in the air and just one last press down of her hips and a push of him into that snug, hot curve between her legs and he's there too. The fact that he just came in his slacks doesn't bother him, he could go another round in a few minutes and fuck, that'd be good, pinning her down and fucking her for real. Actually hear her begging for it, knock her down a few fucking pegs.
She stands up though, her foot pressing into his chest and he just smirks up at her, like they didn't spend fifteen minutes beating each other and then the last five rubbing off. "Thanks, sweetheart." And she flicks her wrist to blow up another portion of the mat, right beside his hips before walking off. Forget fucking her, he's going to rip her throat out.
--
Emma:
If those bastards shot him just one more time with those stupid dart guns, he was going to ram one down their throats. And then pull the trigger. He was groggy, and disorientated, and confused as to just what the fuck was going on. He's in a cell, it's a small cell and he doesn't have a window, there's blood over the front of his shirt, and he's aware that it's his own because his side is still tingling from the healed wound.
The door creaks open, Daken staggered slightly as he shifts to get up and into a defensive stance before there's a blur of white and a body barrelling into his. His back hit the wall, hands moving to grip whatever -no, whoever, was just thrown at him. Scent told him it was Frost, and Daken held back the growl. "Little close, don't you think?"
"It would help, immensely, if you would pull back your fucking pheromones." He wasn't pushing them, he wasn't even using them at all. His hands found her waist either way, stroking along the flesh there, she never did wear much in the way of clothing, her uniform for missions was white skin tight leather pants and a fucking strip around her tits for Christ sake.
"I'm not doing anything." He was tired, and pissed off, and aching from head to toe. She didn't move away though, letting his hands trail over her ribs and around to her back, finger tips brushing along perfectly smooth, flawless skin. "Well, with the pheromones anyway." Even tired, and pissed off, he wasn't about to push a warm body away, even one as infuriating as Emma Frost.
"You are," her fingers pressed against the unhealed marks of where the darts hit, careful with pressure as she drew them along the line of his neck, "what did they hit you with?" The marks stung, it was irritating that they hadn't healed yet, but that was it, just an irritation.
"Darts." It should be strange, he should push her away, get angry, get out and kill something. Instead he's leaning back against the wall with her pressed along his front, the touches aren't rushed, he's not pushing towards anything. If he wanted to, he could fuck her. Mark her and make Victor see it, see just what he'd done. But he's not, and he doesn't know why.
"Drugs. If they just wanted you incapacitated they'd shoot you, you'd heal but it would give them enough time. Why drugs?" He gets the impression that she's not actually talking to him, from the way that she brushes her nose up his jaw, her breath ghosting along his throat. "They have plans for something, your powers aren't under control right now." He doesn't believe her, she's just guessing. He could make her angry, that would prove it. Except he doesn't, he tries but she just stays were she is, calm and docile. It's unnerving to have her calm and docile.
"What's going on?" She'd been outside, wherever they were, that was where the blood on her came from, surely. Smearing on her pants along her thigh, a graze above her hip where she'd rubbed against something or been hit. There's blood in the corner of her mouth though, he's willing to bet someone smacked her -she ran her mouth off just like anyone else, infuriated with her snark and her smart comments, no wonder someone smacked her, he wanted to smack her sometimes, he'd put money on Ethan wanting to smack her sometimes.
"We're going to be livid in the morning, pet. Rescues on it's way." Her lips brushed his cheek, her hand by the marks on his neck slipping around his shoulder while the other ran down his chest, along his ribs. Daken was trying to figure out just why this didn't feel sexual, where was the charge, where was the need, the arousal. Why in the hell was this -soothing? comforting?- so fucking innocent. "You, dearest, are fucked. Try not get shot when we're getting out of here, you probably won't heal."
"What?"
"I can hear your thoughts." It startled him enough that she moved back slightly, "Don't worry, I'm too blissed out to bother reading your mind."
"Blissed out, eh?"
"Your hands are on my butt and I'm perfectly content to just stand here while we're meant to be escaping. What does that tell you?"
Daken grinned, "I'm just that good." He didn't let her get the comment out though, pressing his mouth over hers and immensely pleased with himself when she practically melted into his body, mouth opening under the touch of his tongue.
You even think about marking me, and I'll rip your balls off.
--
Ethan:
Sometimes, Ethan liked to lie in. It didn't happen often, but he enjoyed the later rise on a Sunday purely because it was his one non-military indulgence morning. It meant staying in bed an extra half hour, taking a longer than usual shower and skipping his morning run. Few people knew about the difference in his schedule and he liked it that way, it meant he wasn't bothered.
What was even better, was the slow rise to consciousness rather than the sharp jolt from the alarm. The last vestiges of sleep lingered and the dream hung around, whispers of an enjoyable dream still playing behind his eyes. Ethan couldn't help but sigh, a sort of easy pleasure rolling through him. A warm, wet heat and...
Ethan's hips bucked up, pressing into the heat when he realised it wasn't the remnants of a dream, mouth falling open as he grunted slightly. A hand stroked along his thigh, fingers pressing against his muscles and making his legs shake, even as his hips rolled upwards again, pressing deep into a wet, tight throat.
The pooling lust in his gut told him all he needed to know. Daken. It was irrational that it made his hips jerk up again, a moan low in his throat as he met no resistance. Opening his eyes, finally letting the dream slip away completely, Ethan was met with the sight of a bobbing head under the sheet. He had the option of closing his eyes again and imagining anyone he wanted, or pushing the sheet aside and just go with it.
Daken moaned in the back of his throat, sending vibrations along Ethan's spine and that was that. Ethan's hand slid under the sheet, pushing it aside and gripping the back of Daken's neck, hips pressing up, "Fuck, yes." If anything Daken appeared to get a little more enthusiastic; throat tightening around Ethan, tongue laving along the underside, an addition to the suction around his cock.
With the warmth, the tightness of Daken's throat and the shaky jerks up into that heat, Ethan grunted, hand clenching on the back of Daken's neck as a warning. There was another rumble of a moan, Ethan's toes curling as the heat pooled in his gut and spiked, and Daken just lifted back to swallow down, throat milking Ethan through his orgasm.
Licking up the tip, drawing back slight, Daken smirked as Ethan lay back, spent and boneless, fingers stroking up the back of the ferals neck and into his hair. That smirk was still on Daken's face as he crawled over the bed, getting a raised eyebrow from Ethan until he leaned down, nipping lightly at Ethan's jaw before kissing him, tongue slipping past pliant lips and trailing through Ethan's mouth, licking another taste out of him.
"Rise and shine, Captain, we've got things to do today." And Daken clambered off the bed in a graceful leap, leaving Ethan with half his senses and a mild confusion. He was going to have to talk boundaries to the feral again.
--
Julio:
Ric's back slammed against the wall, back of his head hitting it with a dull thump before his front was covered, mouth caught in another kiss as hands attacked his belt and jeans. "Fuck," against every judgement in his mind, Rictor pressed into those hands, his own hands pulling at clothing to get to skin, "I hate you, so much. God." Ric's head thumped against the wall again, teeth biting along his throat painfully, hard enough to tear the skin, making Ric buck his hips and pull away. "Shit."
"You'll be begging for it, fucking pussy." Daken shoved Ric's jeans to the floor, stripping out of his own clothes in a flash and grabbing Ric by the hair, pulling him away from the wall into a violent kiss and pushing him towards the table in the room. With a bite to Ric's lip, piercing the skin and drawing blood, Daken twists away, pushing Ric over the table, pinning him there with a hand in the middle of his back. "You'll be fucking desperate for it," sliding a hand down, fingers teasing at the dip of Ric's ass, "split you open and fuck you 'til you scream, bitch."
Rictor felt his cheeks heat, arousal and embarrassment spiking in equal measures as Daken's fingers pressed teasingly at his hole. He was about to protest, because it was dry and that was not on, but his words left him in a gasp as his ass was spread and Daken's tongue licked over his hole, pressing against the muscle and pushing the tip inside. A ridiculous whine escaped him at the press of heat and wet inside, his hips pushing back for more while his open palms braced him on the table. Daken laughed, the sound tingling along Ric's spine as a long finger slid into him along with the tongue. "Dios," he had to bite on his knuckle, grunting as a second finger slid in, far too soon, the burn aching slightly.
"Fucking slut for it, aren't you." Ric heard a tear, his heart hammering in his chest as his hips rocked back on Daken's fingers, unable to make a remark past the moan and whine in this throat. Daken pressed in a third, slick finger, scissoring out for a stretch before withdrawing. Then there's the press of a blunt head, and Daken is half way inside Rictor before he even thinks to protest the lack of condom. "No, no. Just like this, having you all spread out, little whore. Come on, you fucking love it." Daken's hips pumped forward, thrusting all the way in, lighting Ric's nerves alight. Even with the added lube, it was tight and hot and fuck, Ric was aching for it.
"Bastard, shit," the pace built, hard and fast and deep, and Rictor couldn't move except to rock back onto each thrust, Daken gripping his hips tight, no doubt leaving bruises. Daken leans over, teeth biting at each knot of Ric's spine, leaving imprints and changing the angle, pressing in deep and hard and Rictor sees stars as his prostate is abused. Everything clenches as he curses up a storm, Daken catching Ric's stiff cock just before he orgasms, stroking him through it and only making Rictor hate him that much more. One hand in Ric's hair, Daken yanks him back, bending him at the spine in an awkward angle, his other hand, sticky with Ric's come pressed against his lips.
"Come on, princess." Ric parts his lips and two fingers slid in, mimicking Daken's thrusts as he fucks Ric's mouth and ass. "Oh, yeah, c'mon, lick them clean, that's it." Ric nipped at the pad on Daken's fingers, clenching his ass at the same time and Daken grunted as he came, pulling his fingers out of Ric's mouth. "Fuck."
Rictor lay sprawled out, ignoring the slightly ache in his hips as Daken pulled back, ignoring the cool feeling of come leaking from his ass, until Daken pressed into his back again, this time with his pants back on. "Was that so bad, princess?" A hand stroking through Rictor's hair, Daken leans back over him, biting into Ric's shoulder and sparking a hiss, before laying a mocking kiss on Ric's cheek and chuckling as he walked out.
--
Lorna:
"This is a really weird way of getting your own back." Not that Daken was complaining, not really. He was just pointing it out. He was surprisingly accommodating when he was shoved back, hitting the bed and sprawling over it.
"I'm a spoiled little princess, I get everything I want, and I want you to shut up and let me ride you." Tossing the last of her clothes to the floor, Lorna shifted to straddle him, picking up the condom from beside her and tearing it open. "It's calculated and catty, don't even pretend you're not on board with this." Her hand sheathing his erection with the condom squeezed just shy of too tight and Daken bared his teeth.
"There is far too much talking going on right now." Lorna answered him with a glare, tossing her hair over her shoulder and seating herself on his cock in one movement. "Fucking Christ," hands on her hips, Daken hissed through his nose, watching her rock herself on him, knees pressing into the bed by his hips before she found a rhythm, rising and falling and practically swallowing his cock.
"How many times, shit, did you say you could go?"
"Fucking loads, baby, fuck yeah." Sliding his hands up her torso, thumbs pressing into her ribs before cupping her breasts, Daken's hips press up into Lorna's pace, tilting his hips to catch just right. "Jesus, darling, fucking tight little bitch, ain't you." With a loud moan, Lorna clenched, back arching and a smirk on her face that he could appreciate for what it was, scorned woman out for vengeance.
"Harder, c'mon, harder." Grabbing her hips again, Daken twisted them, pushing her down under him and pulling her leg up.
"Oh, I'll give you harder." She managed a low chuckle before it stemmed off into a moan, his thumb rubbing over her clit as he slammed his hips forward, pushing into her with abandon as she flexed and arched upwards.
One thing was for sure, when Frost took a peek into Lorna' head, she'd see just what Lorna wanted.
--
Mac:
It was the alcohol, he knew, and she tasted like cheap beer and cheaper vodka, but her hand was in his pants before he even bothered to care and frankly, it wasn't his problem she was easy.
He expected a drunken blowjob, he expected her on her knees outside the bar. He didn't expect her to push him into the wall, open his pants to push them down his thighs while she was licking into his mouth, didn't expect the rough slide of her hand over his cock while she pulled back sucked two of her own fingers into her mouth before she pulled him back and turned him around.
He would have something to say about it, as her wet fingers pressed at his ass, her hand still stroking his cock in a slow, steady pace, thumb circling the head and flicking teasingly at the underside. Her fingers stroked inside him, pressing deep and nudging his prostate, her grip loosening just a little as he started to press back onto her fingers and buck forward to the grip, fucking her hand and then fucking himself on her fingers.
"Take you back to the garage," her lips brush his ear, a fleeting touch of her tongue as she licks her lips, her hand pressing another finger into his ass and her grip tightening, making his grunt and buck back. "Got all sorts of toys, pretty sure could wear you out. Fuck you good and proper, ride your face until you're aching and then let you fuck me until I'm sore, hmm?"
When she bit his earlobe, nudged her fingers up and dragged the thumb over the slit of his cock, he was gone, shoulders tense as he came against the wall, low groan in his throat. She stroked him through it, her fingers pulling out carefully, before she tucked him back into his pants and gave his cock a gentle pat. "C'mon, pet, I have plans for you."
Shit but that was better than a blowjob.
--
Rogue:
"Stop fuckin' around an' get me outta these." She tugged at the chains again, wrists twisting uselessly as her legs tried to pull up. The chains were made of some metal she couldn't break, but Daken they'd just thrown in a cell and after he'd dislocated both his shoulders, he'd managed to slip through the bars before knocking his shoulders back in place.
"This is," he stood right in front of her, finger tapping on his chin, "intriguing." She tugged again, almost wanting to kick him in the face. "I mean, we know they aren't coming back, so,"
"Whatever is runnin' through y'r head, stop it right now, or Ah'm gonna,"
"Gonna what? All tied up Roguie, can't do anything." His grin was enough to make her shiver. He moved to stand right in front of her, eyes running over her like she were a piece of meat that he was about to shred, and Rogue felt the first tendril of fear shift in her body. "I mean, there isn't really anything I couldn't do right now." His fingers trailed along the top of her thigh, stroking from her knee to the curve of her hip, down the line of her pelvis to her crotch, hand cupping her through her pants.
The gasp was completely unbidden, along with the hitch of her hips as she pressed into his hand, biting on her lip. "Y' need me," she gasped out, swallowing past the lump in her throat, "y' need me t' get outta here. Ain't no way y'r doin' it y'rself." Her heartbeat was hammering, her cheeks heating as she tried to move back from him but had no leverage.
"C'mon, sweetheart, we've got plenty of time."
"Don't'cha remember what Ah do? Y' that thick headed?" There was a bite to her tone, even as he stepped closer, hips almost pressing to hers, his breath catching her hair slightly. "Y' wanna end up passed out on the floor again?" What really annoyed her was that spiral of arousal, she worked so hard to push those down, to never feel them, he was such an asshole and if they made it out of there she was going to smash his face through a wall.
"You have no imagination," his hand shifted to the button on her trousers, flicking it open and tugging the zipper down, his eyes never leaving hers and that smirk pissing her off. "Haven't you ever gotten a little adventurous? Hmm? Never played around?" She was about to flinch back from his fingers along her stomach, but the smooth glide of leather stopped her and Rogue frowned.
"What're y' doin'?" Her voice took a completely different tone, the odd feeling sparking goosebumps along her skin. Sure, she'd been touched before, Rictor used to cuddle her through layers of clothes, but this was decidedly more intimate than anything she'd ever experienced. "Back off an' get me outta here."
"Yeah, in a couple of minutes, I'm entertaining myself first." His hand turned to cup her again, this time sliding under her clothes and brushing along her folds. The chuckle from him told her he was smug with himself, that he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and even as she protested, he'd know what she actually wanted.
The first finger slid into her, making her gasp and pull away, Daken's other hand gripping her hip and stilling her as he pushed deeper inside her. It felt so different, it wasn't like she was abstinent, but someone else touching her, even through the leather gloves, maybe because of them, it just made her muscles tremble and her heart rate soar. Daken pressed in closer, his hips pressing against her leg as he inhaled beside her throat. "Isn't this so much better than escaping?" She couldn't say anything, not with a second finger sliding into her, pressing deep and stroking along her, the ridges on the gloves so different from her own slim fingers.
Her hips bucked forward, head tilting back and Daken started thrusting his fingers in and out of her, pressing his thumb to her clit and rubbing circles into her, his own cock rubbing at her leg through his pants. His hand on her hip slid up, stroking her breast through her shirt, running up her throat and his thumb stroking over her bottom lip before he pulled it back, his open palm running over her stomach, pushing her shirt up and slowly extending his two claws.
"Don't."
"Oh, but you'll like this, baby." Pushing her shirt out of the way, pressing his fingers up into her hard, Daken pushed the claws along her rib cage, tearing the skin and making her jerk and cry out. She bucked onto his fingers, feeling release shoot through her at the pain in her side and the hard press of his thumb into her clit. She hung from the chains, shaking slightly and clenching around his fingers as he pulled her hip closer, staring at the blood rolling down her side before he grunted and went rigid against her.
She took a moment to get her breathing under control, to make sure her voice wouldn't shake, "Y' done playin' y'r games now? Ready t' get outta here?" He smirked as he withdrew his fingers, licking his gloves like a cat.
"Yeah, lets go kill things."
--
Ophelia:
Pheromones on their own were bad enough, mix it with an empath with questionable boundaries and eclectic taste at the best of times and it was just a big bad idea trying to blow up.
Daken's never really been affected by his own pheromones, never really gotten lost in the haze before. Only this is like a mist that doesn't lift. It's probably the haze that gets them there, mind swimming with God knows what and just this urgent need to claim and own and have. She's all smooth and pale and creamy, folding under his hand and bruises rising to the skin fast; marks on the delicate lines of her shoulders, on the slim curve of her hip, the smooth flesh of her arms. It's not enough though, even as she melts into him, as her legs clench around his hips and draw him in, her body undulating like liquid and her skin flaring with heat.
At first, he just draws his nail down the middle of her chest, watching the red line stand out stark against her pale white skin. The skin rises around the scratch, red and vibrant, like her hair, spilling around her head like a halo of blood and Daken growls in the back of his throat, pressing his hips into her wildly. She moans and sighs and practically purrs, even though he could break her in his grip.
Bracing one hand at her shoulder, just beside her head, he bites at the curve of her throat, where her neck and shoulder meet, licking over the teeth imprint up to her ear, his breath hot against her skin, "Will you bleed for me? Hmm, will you paint the bed with your blood, darling?" She practically mewls at him, this spike of lust hitting him like a solid wall, and he almost wants to turn her over and slam into her without abandon.
One claw slides out from his fist, pressing against her shoulder and drawing down, slow and deliberate and shallow, blood welling under the tip. He drags a line from her shoulder to the swell of her breast, letting the blood gather on the skin while she arches and whines, biting at her bottom lip. The scent batters him, and trust her to smell sweet rather than metallic, and he just has to taste her. His tongue chases the beads of blood, lapping at the wound and she writhes against him, her hips pushing into his as a long whine breaks from her throat.
She's getting off on it and that's getting him off on it more than he gets off on it himself. It's like a cycle that just flares out of control and burns through him and fuck she's crazy in the best possible way for this. He leans over her again, dragging another line parallel to the first, just a little deeper to watch it bleed more. She twists into it, hand gripping to his shoulder, nothing but need and want and desire pulsing from her and into him and the way she ruts her hips up, trying to fuck herself on his cock but getting nowhere while he has her hips pinned down. His tongue drags from her shoulder to the swell of her breast, down to the nipple, smearing the blood around her skin and listening to her whimper and gasp, feeling that steady thump of need.
Pushing up, Daken resumes a steady pace, fucking into her, a hand sliding through her hair and gripping tight, tugging her head back and arching her body up. His claw slices a neat little cut over her other breast, the blood trickling down over her skin, catching on the nipple and Daken dips forward to suck it off, biting at the puckered nipple and laving up the blood, licking until every trace of it's gone.
He pulls her closer again, hearing the gasp as her back nearly bends, her legs spreading wide around his hips and Daken grunts, thrusting into her without rhythm or pace and dragging his claw over her thigh just as he climaxes, pushing her to that stage at the exact same second and both of them riding it out in a haze of need and desire and pain.
When he comes back to himself, she's lying out beside him on the bed, blood smeared over her breasts and the slice on her thigh trickling blood along her leg, down to the other and obscenely pooling between her legs. He has the ridiculous urge to lick her clean.
So he does.
--
Spencer:
It's just to kill the boredom, pushing the pheromones until he breaks and then just pushing him through the door. The biggest thrill isn't the sex, it's the fact that he can push the boy into this, and that it'll piss off that Collins bitch something fierce.
"C'mon, that's it." He's slow at pushing in, letting Spencer get used to it, hand cradling his head as his hips push forward, Spencer opening his mouth and letting Daken push in. "Oh yeah," it's all tentative, Spencer licking carefully and sucking lightly, and Daken takes his own sweet time.
His hips press deeper, pushing more in, pulling back and slowly starting to fuck Spencer's mouth, taking care not to choke him because he's not interested in having his cock bitten right then. Spencer just opens his mouth wider, flattens his tongue to the base of Daken's cock and lets him, groaning just occasionally around Daken.
It's easy to get to that point, to get to the brink and then he pulls out of that nice, warm mouth, hand stroking his cock fast and dirty and then he grunts, coming on Spencer's face, strips of come hitting his cheek and nose and lips and fuck, he licks his lips and Daken just grins, leaning in to share the taste.
"You should really clean that up." And having gotten what he came for, Daken fastens up and leaves the room.
--