by K. A Knight
“Then you better make me, Beast.” I grin, rocking against his hard cock as he pinches and squeezes my nipples, making me gasp and roll my hips.
“Come here,” he orders, and I tilt my head in confusion, the haze of lust clouding my mind until I can barely think. “I can’t reach your pussy there, Brawler, and I want a taste, want to feel you come on my tongue.”
He grabs my hips again and lifts me, his muscles bulging with the movements as he raises me clear off him, his abs rolling with the movements as he drags me across his pecs until my knees fall to the pillow on either side of his head, my pussy pressed to his face.
I moan, the feel of his lips, his beard, and chin pressed to me so intimately while I’m still in control…my fucking Beast Man always looking after me.
“Please,” I beg, rocking against his mouth, unable to help myself, my thighs drenched from my need.
He groans and I feel the warm, wetness of his tongue as he laps at me, cleaning my thighs as he works his way up to my pussy. With the first touch of his tongue, I am lost.
“Missed how you taste,” he whispers, muffled.
God, this man.
The tip of his tongue touches my clit and I nearly come away from his face, but his hands hold me to him as I rock against him, fucking myself on his mouth, his chin pressed to my pussy as he laps at my clit in teasing strokes, which have me moaning his name. My hands are lost on where to go, so I grip my breasts, rolling my nipples as he dips a finger inside me, giving my pussy something to clamp down on.
“Scream my name,” he mutters. “I want them to know, everyone to hear.”
My head drops back, it’s too fucking much, yet I can’t move away. My breathing comes out in pants, pleasure pulling from every limb as he demands it, his tongue lashing my clit again and again, harder now as his finger curls inside me.
“You taste like heaven, like home.”
“Jago,” I gasp, my movements speeding up until he catches his teeth on my clit as he sucks it into his mouth, adding another finger at the same time, and I fall apart.
I scream his name like he asked, my whole body seizing from the force of my release until I go limp and fall backwards, my eyes darkening. “Fucking—” Gasp. “Hell.”
He laughs beneath me, and I lift my head to see him smirking, his mouth and chin sparkling with my cream, his lips almost bruised from the force of me, but I’ve never seen him look so happy. “You ready for the next one, Brawler? Or are you getting slow in your old age?”
“Old age?” I yell. “I’ll give you old fucking age.” I crawl up his body, unable to lift myself more than that, my legs too weak to hold me up, the pleasure leaving me boneless. It’s been so long, my body is unused to it, the shock of it rather than the pain, leaving me almost crying.
Once my face is even with his, my eyes on his fiery orbs, I lick his lips, tasting myself on him as I reach between us and yank down his pants, wrapping my hand around his hard length. He groans, thrusting into my hand as I center myself over him and rub the head of his cock back and forth over my pussy, moaning myself when it bumps my oversensitive clit.
“Brawler,” he moans, but I swallow it with a kiss. I want him to feel how I feel, I need him inside of me so badly.
Finding my strength, the one he spoke of, I sit back, resting my knees on either side of his hips, and line him up at my entrance. Grinning down at him, I lift myself and slide down his cock.
He groans, his head thrown back as I work his hard, long length inside me until my pussy rests on his skin, then I start to move, raising myself and dropping, twisting my hips, chasing another release, his cock stretching me. There’s no pain, fuck, there’s nothing but pleasure, and I crack, I lose it. Control, it’s all his, he can have everything.
His hands grip me and help, guiding me to move faster, keeping his eyes on mine as I moan and writhe, his hardness stretching me, filling me so completely, I don’t know where I start and he ends.
The slap of our skin is loud, our heavy breathing the only other sound in the room, his name like a prayer on my lips. One he answers by thrusting up harder, meeting my every move and giving me more, giving me everything.
“Fuck, baby, I’m so close,” he groans. “I can’t take it, you’re so tight, too fucking tight and wet.” His hips lose their rhythm, as do I, throwing myself back and forth, chasing my own release until suddenly, it’s there, hitting me like a truck, and I scream wordlessly as my pussy clamps down on him like a vice, pulsing with it as I shake.
He groans my name and stills beneath me, filling me with his own release as I collapse on top of him. My heart racing in time with his as we both gasp for air, our bodies covered in sweat. He wraps his arms around my back, his cock still buried inside me, connecting us, and a smile curls up at my lips.
I’m not broken, just darker, that’s all. Stronger, fiercer, and ready to fight for what is mine.
“Seriously, wet wipes?” I joke and he groans, jiggling me, and we both freeze as I whimper at the feeling.
“Kill. Me. Now,” he grumbles, and I laugh as I kiss over his heart like he did to me.
“I promise to protect it, never break it,” I whisper, and flutter my eyes up to his. The fire is muted now, not a raging storm…but a slow burning, one that I know will always be there for me.
“Good, but I want yours in return, Brawler.”
Five
Hole of My Ass
“We need to pack,” I mumble, but make no move to push away from his warm embrace, his arms comforting and not restraining. Another win for me that this isn’t freaking me out or bringing back memories, but maybe he fucked all that out of me for a minute—hell, he can keep doing that if he wants. I am too chilled to care about anything right now.
“Soon,” he grumbles, his arms tightening around me and yanking me farther up his chest as I laugh, and bring my face into his neck, smelling the fire scent that he always seems to carry.
“We can’t stay in here forever,” I tease.
“Sure we can,” he counters, and then sighs. “But you are like a child and can’t sit still, so maybe not, you might drive me crazy.”
I lift my head and rest it on his chest as I grin up at him. “Might? Babe, you’re already there. You totally went to crazy town when you went to pound town.”
“Pound town?” he says slowly, then shakes his head. “I did create a monster, should have left you to Evan’s care. I swear that boy was a saint for managing not to touch you for so long.”
“What?” I ask dumbly.
“Brawler, seriously, you are so smart, but sometimes you are a real idiot. That boy wanted you so badly. I don’t know how he resisted, it didn’t take long for you to wear down my restraint. I blame it on those tight little shorts you wore. Drove me batshit inside and when you started training and I had to touch you…” He groans. “Torture, having you pressed against me like that. I had to take so many cold showers.”
“Huh, is that what the old ones call it? Cold showers?” I taunt.
“I remember us taking a shower,” he recollects, and we both groan as he gets hard again.
“So...showers, huh? I can add that to the list along with princesses, all things that make Beast Man a walking erection.”
“Woman,” he groans, his eyes shuttering. “What were you saying about packing? Let’s do that, anything to keep your mind off my cock, otherwise I’m going to look like a pervert following you around with a hard-on.”
“Don’t you always?” I laugh. “I’m like the piper but for penises.” He stares up at me, lost for words. “Oh my God, get it? Piper the Penis Caller? No, wait, the Piper of Cocks.”
He leans up and covers my mouth with his hand. “Please, stop,” he begs.
I nod and he replaces his hand with his mouth, kissing me softly. “Time to pack, Brawler, you ready to get back on the road?”
“Always.”
Our bags are fastened to the bike, weapons strapped to our bodies, and food and water ready to go. We
are all dressed and facing down the tribe members. Trev is standing at the front, with Simon at his side. I step away from Jago and the bike and move towards him. “We will be back, look after him for me, won’t you?” I tease, jerking my head towards Trev, and Simon laughs.
“I’ll try, look after yourself out there.” He opens his arms and sweeps me into a hug. I laugh and pat his back before moving away to face Trev. He grabs my hands and holds them.
“Be safe. I hope you find what you need out there and come home,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing my hands. I step back with a nod and look at the amassed people.
“I’ll be back, until then keep training, keep vigilant, and most of all, look after each other,” I call loudly. There is a chorus of agreement and goodbyes, and I wave before turning and climbing on the bike behind Jago. I wrap my arms around him and grin.
“Let’s go, Beast Man.”
He fires up the bike, revving it, and I look over my shoulder as we speed away, my new home getting smaller and smaller until we turn the corner and I can’t see them anymore. But I know this is right, one way or another, I need to know what happened and so do the people of The Forgotten. If Paradise is truly gone, no one is safe.
Evan.
Like a whisper on the wind, the name comes to me like always. I owe him that. I owe him to see what is going on. We didn’t end on the best of terms, but he was always my family. Families have arguments, they fight. I can see now he wanted the best for me, even if he was being an asshole about it.
Before this trip is through, I’ll have my answers, and then Jago and I can start our life here…hopefully with Archel, if he ever turns up again. That will be fun to explain, but one day at a time. That’s how I’ll take it, it’s all you can do in a world like this.
One thing I know for sure is that I’m not losing Jago again. Whatever we find, whatever we face, we do it together.
We twist through bends and roads until even I am lost. No wonder no one just stumbles into this place, and it makes me wonder how long Jago was out here trying to find me and how he eventually did.
“Tunnel,” he yells over the wind, and I perk up to see what he was talking about earlier. I need to memorise this in case I am driving next time or have to give directions.
An old tunnel sits ahead, graffiti covering nearly every inch in faded colours, names, dates, and words that I can’t understand decorating the dark brown brick. An old-style sign still hangs over the top, but it’s covered in sand and dirt, so I am unable to see what it says. The inside is dark, almost black as we speed towards it, and when we are inside, Jago flicks on the light, illuminating the interior. Sand is piled and trampled, but as we go further in it fades to cement, the curving walls dripping water from somewhere. We whizz by an old door on the left with a yellow light barely lit up above it.
It only takes a few minutes, but I’m on alert for those few moments until we break out of the other side, the sun blinding us after the dark, the world coming back into focus. The road crunches under the bike, the sun heating us up, and on either side of the tunnel and stretched before us is sand. When I look back, I realise why no one spots it or tries to find it. Above the tunnel stands an old, half destroyed building. Rubble falls down one side, the windows smashed long ago, leaving nothing but darkened holes. It’s tall, probably an old apartment building, with debris blocking the left and right of the tunnel—strategically placed? But it’s not that which would stop people…but the sign.
Bright red, dripping like the old graffiti, the new one declares this eater territory with a skull painted next to it. You would have to be stupid or insane to ignore that and keep going…yet Jago did.
To find me.
He went into the dark, not knowing what he would find, but hoping it would lead to me. Ready to fight eaters for me, anything. Fuck, I love this man. I turn back to the front and wrap my arms tighter around him as he guns it into the open desert before us.
We don’t spot anything for at least an hour—no buildings, no people, nothing. Just some old roads, signs, and the usual broken-down cars and trucks littered here and there, and of course sand. Yet another reason we have never been found, it’s in the middle of nowhere. You would only get so far and turn back, realising there is nothing out here but death and more sand. The Forgotten, Trev planned this well.
The mountains are behind us, but Jago seems to know where we are going, so I close my eyes, grimacing at the crusty feeling as sand blows into them, making it hard to see, and I rest my cheek on his back. Letting the rhythmic sensation of his chest rising and falling soothe me as we eat away at the miles, the bike purring beneath us.
I missed this.
As much as I love my new home, I love exploring, I love the never knowing. It was what pulled me out here to begin with, what drew me from the safety of the bunker and into the sands. And that burning passion, that call, is still there, like a fine wire linked tightly from me and further out into the Wastelands than I have ever been. A density, a calling, but I ignore it. We have things to do. People to find. Maybe after, once the people have been trained, Jago and I could start scouting, going farther and farther. I still want to see everything this world has to offer, even if it’s covered in sand and blood.
This world is the only one we have, I would have to be stupid not to want to know everything it has to offer.
The sun is starting to set, lower and almost blinding as it dips down below the horizon and the stars take its place, the night only marginally cooler, but Jago doesn’t put his light on—probably not wanting to give away our position—and we keeping driving for another hour. We pass an abandoned gas stop and a burned down town before we suddenly stop, yanking me from my musings.
The bike turns off, the abrupt silence deafening. “What is it?” I ask, my voice overly loud after becoming used to shouting over the purr of the engine.
“Lights,” he growls, and I follow his pointed finger to see he is right. Up ahead is what looks like bike lights and a fire, really bright, like a beacon in the night.
“Can we go around?” I inquire.
“We can, but it will mean another day added to our journey,” he grumbles, hitting the bike handles.
“Then we sneak past, drive as close as we dare, and then push the bike and slip through in the night. We don’t know who it is, but I’m betting they aren’t expecting visitors this late and all the way out here,” I ponder out loud.
“Maybe, but I don’t like it.” He sighs.
“Jago, you can’t protect me from everything, you wouldn’t have hesitated before, so don’t now. We can do this, partners, remember? Plus, I’m badass now. Worst case we fight our way through,” I tease.
“Badass,” he quips.
“You know it, baby,” I purr, leaning forward and licking his earlobe, making him shiver against me. “You in?”
“Let’s do it, Brawler, stay low and quiet. Stick close,” he mutters, and I nod, wrapping myself around him as he starts the bike again. He only drives ten minutes farther until we can see the outline of buildings, two sheltering whoever is there, with a fire between them, lights on either side, and laughter floating to us on the wind, as does…music. Well, shit. Makes it easier for us.
After that he cuts the engine and we swing off. I bite back my groan and stretch my sore legs and body. Palming my crossbow, I nod at him. “Got your back,” I whisper quietly, knowing he will have to push the bike.
He nods, and I am almost unable to see him in the dark if not for the moon. He places a knife in his hand as he holds the handlebars and starts to push the bike. It’s hard at first because of the sand and it’s slow going, my eyes darting everywhere as I stay close. I am almost straining into the dark to see if anyone is sneaking up on us, my body on alert and strung tight until Jago’s training kicks in and I breathe slowly, loosening up, and getting ready in case there is an attack.
Moving sluggishly, I feel sweat dripping down my face from my concentration as we try to stay quiet. The m
usic and voices get louder as we draw nearer, and Jago cuts a wide berth around the side so that they don’t see us. Even if they happen to look out into the night, all they will see is sand.
Until something catches my eye. We are directly opposite the building now, but the hairs on the back of my neck rise, so I grab his arm and stop him, tilting my head and pointing forward. He nods and looks that way too, both of us straining until it comes again, the noise. A dragging, like a chain slithering through the sand.
Blinking my eyes, which are finally clear enough to see, I cover my mouth to stifle my gasp. What the fuck?
There, on chains, spiked into the sand next to the building, are four ferals. Feral pets, snapping and pulling, fighting each other to get free, until one stops and raises his muzzle to the air, sniffing, no doubt smelling us. Jago quickly backpedals and I follow after him, keeping low, my eyes on the ferals. No wonder they have music going and lights, they have a fucking alarm system on either side in case people try to get by. Who the fuck is crazy enough to catch and try to muzzle those people eaters though? I’m surprised they even managed it without getting seriously hurt.
When we are far enough away again, Jago kicks out the stand on the bike and we duck behind it, our heads bent close together. “What do we do?” I hiss.
He shakes his head, looking back over the bike with a calculating expression. “Stay here, I’m going to check the other side and see how many people there are. Remain close to the bike, and if I’m not back in thirty minutes, take off in the other direction,” he orders, ducking back down and then kissing me swiftly like he can feel my protest. “Trusting you to do this, Brawler,” he whispers against my lips, and then he is gone, fading into the darkness. I strain my eyes again until I see his fast-moving form, low to the sand, like a creature of the night himself. I struggle to keep up with his progress until he is too far away for me to see.
