Tiny Vessels

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  • Publiceret: 13 okt. 2017
  • Opdateret: 6 mar. 2018
  • Status: Igang
Short stories set in the universe of my novel Vessel.


6. Cycle

"I don't want to."

She said as she sat her rump on the bar stool by the lacquered kitchen counter, her nails tapping against it as she moved around in her seat. She stared at him with eyes that tore through flesh and bone - just like his did.

He approached her without speaking, his dress shoes soundless against the living room carpet. Without looking away, he pulled her to him, forcing his legs in between hers as his cold, arctic eyes scraped out her insides.

"You know what my answer to that is - yet you still say it," He said while letting his head hang. His bleached face closed in on hers, his neck creaking as he lowered his chin to her level, "do you deliberately mock me to get me in your shredded, little girl shorts?" He asked, his cold touch reminding her of continuing to play in the snow even when your fingers are breaking off from frostbite.

She tried swallowing the lump in her throat, the lump gagging her into submission. She averted her eyes, turning her head to ignore his face, the face she wanted to cry at, kick to the ground, suck free of passion... and treasure.

"Stop. I don't want to today, you can't seduce me like all your whores." She spat, a flame being nursed to health in her stomach, but all she heard was a smoky chuckle in her direction.

"That I can't, but, I don't need to, Violetta." He smiled.

His smile pissed her off.

Moving her legs up to her chest, she kicked him with all the strength her bones could muster.
He was kicked into the balcony window, the panel cracking, glass fragments falling to the floor.

He disappeared. Her eyes went wide. She was struck to the ground. A fist, then the bedroom. His eyes.

"Cut it out! Dakoda! You- you motherfucker!" She yelled and screamed, her throat going hoarse - but there was no response. She was bound with a leather belt, her eyes closed tight.

"Stay, close enough so I can smell you." He breathed, and her eyes shot open, staring into the black nothing.

"Not toda-" she felt lips slam into hers, his lethality spreading through his mouth as he sucked on her tongue, his metal piercing clicking against her teeth like a grandfather clock, "...not today."

She whispered as his oh-so perfectly molded fingers went past her underwear. He rubbed her, licked her ear, bit her neck, her pleasure overtook her reasoning, her devil craved this every second of every day.

When he gave it to her; no matter how much she'd begged and screamed, she always ended up tossed aside, cum dripping down her thighs, the taste of iron still on her tongue, her flesh chewed off and put in the freezer, ready for next day's dinner.

His kisses bedazzled her, the lump in her throat preventing her from fighting back. His eyes. They looked so inviting, so peaceful.

To give up - was that her rescue?


She pushed him, so hard she thought her arms might break off. He fell back on the king-sized bed. When she thought she could relax, he grabbed her by the neck, slamming her into the pillows. He squeezed, so tightly her head might come clean off.

"D-Dako-" She whimpered with her eyes shut, tears running down her powdered cheeks, "-da!" She gripped his hand, trying to pry it off her neck.

He moved in close to her, sitting on her with his belt opened, his black boxers showing through as he leaned over her.

"You call yourself a succubus?" He snickered by her ear - everything it took to bring her over the edge. She used both of her hands to bend his wrist backward, using the time to get up and throw him out the open door, and into the hallway. His body crashed against a wall and she ran after him.

Her nails grew long, inhuman - and so did his.

She stabbed him in the stomach, blood spewing out in buckets. In return, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around him just so he could sink his claws into her thighs.

"Was this what you wanted, asshole?" She hissed as she headbutted him, the back of his head hitting the wall. As if nothing had happened, he ran into the wall in front of him.

"Ah!" She yelled, her head going dizzy, not realizing he was moving his hands upward, reaching for her tits.

In attempt to stop him, she forced her hand out of his grip, piercing his cheek with her claws and using it to hold his head in place.

"Evil." He managed to say with blood filling up his mouth, running down his face, ruining the shirt he wore.

"I don't take kindly to being molested, you pompous fuck." She growled in anger, widening the wounds in his face that her claws had made.

"But you like it." He said with a head tilt, the wounds closing around her claws. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled her claws out, his face healing right back up. Only the blood knew what had happened.

They flung each other around the apartment for hours, it could take days before they got exhausted enough to stop.

When the sun peeked over the Onyxdale horizon, purple locks of hair greeted him with their vibrancy. The living room carpet was soft to lay on. He turned his head further, reaching out to touch the brilliant color.

"Don't." A weak voice mumbled.

"All right." He said.

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