Seducing Two Serial Killers

by Hutchins, Hollie

  I can't help it. I start laughing. It's ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous. He chuckles as well, giving me the moment, until my stomach throbs, and I gasp for air.

  “You should also be bold. See my cock now?” He nods towards his cock, and I see it's now unfurled to full size.

  Bigger than I thought. Must have been hiding, then.

  “You can reach out to touch it. Go on.”

  My hand shakes like an active washing machine as I move it towards that organ, before clasping it. He coaxes me, instructing in a low, aroused voice what feels good, what doesn't. I do a few wrong things, too, but it's interesting, so interesting to, well... be taught. About the balls. How hard I can squeeze. What motions are good, how the tip feels and reacts. When he tells me to use my other hand to start masturbating myself, I again hesitate. Unsure.

  At his encouragement, I do. I seek out what I know is my clit, and press on it, but within seconds, I feel both that stab of pain and pleasure.

  “Stop. Stop.” His voice is a growl, even as he watches. “You're putting too much pressure. You'll be hurting long before you can climax.”

  It's embarrassing, actually, that he's the one teaching me how to masturbate. Working out what my body likes, and what it doesn't. That I'm so sensitive, I need to actually rub myself on the flesh around my clit, and stay away from it until the suggestion of an orgasm builds in my gut. Under his active encouragement, I gasp, but still take a long, long time to come. Twenty, thirty minutes, maybe.

  And he's patient throughout the whole thing.

  “Someone like Forge will find it exciting to watch you masturbate in front of him.” Tarren's cock is at half-mast from having to wait so long, but he doesn't seem particularly enraged by it. There's a pinch in his eyes when he says Forge this time. Jealously?

  I feel oddly relaxed from coming for the first time in my life. My thighs are sore. He had to tell me so many times to stop tensing them, to stop trying to force out the orgasm. To shut up when I was saying, “I'm not sure this is working.”

  I'm a little embarrassed it took so long. I wanted to stop so many times, because I wasn't coming fast enough, and he had to keep telling me to be patient.

  How stupid.

  Just as I'm lying there, thinking that I've wasted so much time with stuff that seems so basic, when Tarren explains it – I see Tarren glance to the clock on the side of his bed.

  “Forty minutes,” he says. Then with a regretful sigh, “guess we better get the rest out the way fast, then you'll have to go. Your boyfriend'll be here soon.”

  Oh, right. I'd actually forgotten about that.

  Before I can comment further, there's a distinctive, booming knock on the door.

  Both of us freeze. Then we look at each other. Me with fear. Him probably the same.

  “Shit,” he says.

  “That's him?” I whisper, shivering.

  “If it is, he's earlier than I thought.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Oh, fuckity fuck.

  Richard

  I smell her. She's here. She's inside. “Open up!” I scream, fist crashing against the door. The motion leaves a dent. My hand's forming green scales, the rage is increasing, consuming my body.

  He had the nerve to talk to my date in front of me, then steal her away. They're probably fucking right now.

  Fucking humiliating me.

  Tarren opens the door, and I see his jaw set, his eyes cautious. “Hey,” he says, but I don't give him a chance to finish whatever it was he intended to state. Bellowing, I shove him backwards, scales erupting over my skin. Wings burst out of my back, tearing the clothes I'm wearing apart, and my neck elongates, my fangs protrude. Tarren steps back, and with a snarl, transforms as well. Emma peeks out from the bedroom door, eyes wide, shock stamped upon her face. I can smell the sex.

  Bellowing, I snake for Tarren's black, serpentine neck as it emerges, but he rears backwards, his tail thrashing a vase off his coffee table. Red, gimlet eyes fixate on me from his thick, ridged head, and he counters my attack. Pushing in for the grip. Screaming, snarling, ripping, tearing, I need to hurt him. Show him he can't fuck with me. That I won't hesitate to kill.

  I'll avenge my brother alone. I don't need him. I don't need his slimy, manipulative ass digging its way into my property, fucking my women.

  Knew she'd be too much trouble.

  Still chose to date her.

  The thought races through my mind, even as Tarren locks his teeth on my wing. Pain surges, but I rake at his hard, scaly belly, feeling pieces flake off. We roll through the house, smashing the table, clawing the sofa, dust tumbling from the walls and ceiling as we hiss and roar and spit. Something tinkles over the floor. Gold and glinting. My brother's cufflink.

  Someone's screaming. Takes a while to register the words, “I didn't fuck him! Stop! I didn't!”

  Ludicrous. Tarren lets go of his hold on my wing and backs off, bleeding at the stomach. He backs towards the bedroom. Using her as bait? A hostage?

  Listen to her! His voice rips through my mind. It's true.

  I hesitate, breathing fast, even as she stammers, “I just wanted to practise for you. I'm not experienced and I don't really know what I'm doing. And you sleep around, you want different things, and I just won't –” she wipes her nose furiously, remarkably defiant, despite the fact two dragons were fighting and ransacking a house not a moment before, “– I won't be good enough for you otherwise.”

  What nonsense is this? I hiss at Tarren.

  Surprisingly enough, it's true, he says, voice sounding amused. The kind of amused that makes bile rise to my throat and want to clamp my teeth around his. You actually interrupted before I could, ah, complete the act. Had to teach her to masturbate, first.

  I snarl at him.

  Who better? I don't run those brothels without picking up a few tricks.

  You lie! I caught you in the act. I caught you!

  Tarren rears up onto his hind legs. Then, with a collapse of his wings, his body, he shrinks back into human form. Naked, pink. Edible. “Look. I swear on the bones of my clan father that we didn't actually have sex. Admittedly, we were going to... to, you know. Get her used to the kind of thing you like.” He grins, and I twitch in fury. So close. So easy to end him.

  “You like all sorts of things, don't you, Richard? I've heard from the women who've been with you. You like to dominate and be dominated. You like a little bit of risk, a little bit of scandal.”

  Before I register what's happened, he seizes Emma by the arm, and yanks her in. He whispers something into her ear, and her eyes pop.

  “For example, Richard, I know you like to do this.” His hand grips her shirt, and rips it off her. My tail thrashes. I can't lunge for him. Not while he's holding her like a hostage. His strong hand grabs her bra next, and yanks it off, exposing her nipples. “That you might complain about me taking your girl, but secretly, you want to see it.” His hand plunges down her jeans, through her underwear, and she lets out a gasp, shuddering under his touch. He bites her neck, still challenging me with his eyes. Arousal wafts off her, with a mix of adrenaline and fear. She's scared but turned on at the same time.

  Rage mixes with confusion. I feel... something else. But it's not as strong. Not as intense as when I'm in human form. Melting back into human skin, I watch, horrified, angry and fascinated as this bastard fingers her in front of me. He nips at her skin, and I see there's a reddish, purplish love bite on the left side of her neck. “I was telling her that you liked it rough and dangerous, showing her what kind of force you might exert on her...”

  Oh, Christ.

  Fuck him. Seriously, fuck him. Heat assaults my groin, swells my cock as she moans. As he stares at me.

  Her breaths are getting shorter, ragged. She can't support herself by her legs anymore.

  Curse this lust. I should be angry, meting justice, but instead, he's lured me in. He's playing me like a fiddle, and I approach. He tugs down her jeans and panties, exposing he
r nakedness.

  “You first, or me?”

  The growl rumbles in my throat. I'm half torn between wrapping my hand around his neck and ending him and wanting to fuck him as well.

  All those muscles. More than me. Those tattoos. Addictive patterns upon his solid knit of skin.

  “She's still a little inexperienced,” Tarren croons, now taking the opportunity to lick the shell of her ear. “But maybe the inexperience can be attractive. Imagine what we can do with her. What we can shape her into.”

  Now I'm close enough to attack. Her dark eyes open, and lock with mine. Hazed in lust. But there's a tenseness to her body.

  “Ssh. You have to relax,” Tarren whispers, sliding one hand over her left breast. “And it'll feel much nicer with him inside you...”

  I shiver convulsively. It's so wrong. And yet, that's exactly what makes it work. This fucking bastard's turned it all around. He suddenly lets go of her, pushing Emma onto me, and darts for his chest of drawers. Pulling out condoms. I growl, clutching Emma hard, pressing my cock into her stomach. My nails dig into her back. Now that she's so close and trembling, I can tell.

  Yes. She is inexperienced. Doesn't know how to seduce, to work a man. Probably not even to work herself.

  But Tarren's right. That doesn't matter. Not at all. The tearing sound comes, and Tarren's holding a condom, tugging the tip out.

  I let out a growl when he pushes me apart from Emma and begins to roll the condom onto me. One hand brushes against my balls, and there's more than evil amusement in his gaze when he looks at me. There's lust, too. Wanting to see how I'll react to this power play.

  Emma watches, astonished, when Tarren runs his tongue over my coated length, all the way down to my taint, and back up again. Lust flares inside, brighter than ever.

  He moves aside, and I seize Emma, carrying her to the bed. I drag her legs up so that her heels are draped over my shoulders, and, standing at the foot of the bed, I work my cock inside her. She's hot and slippery, warm and tight, and I close my eyes and groan at the pressure. Opening them again, I see her mouth hanging in a perfect o, and her cheeks flushed with arousal.

  She'll let me do anything, I think. Anything at all. There's another tearing packet, which I just about register, even as I thrust roughly into her, knowing it might hurt slightly, enjoying her whimpering cries of encouragement.

  Suddenly, Tarren yanks me out of her, my cock glistening, and with a twist of my arm, he forces me to my knees.

  “My turn.”

  His finger presses against my asshole. My eyes bulge, my breath escapes in hisses, as something cold and slick, coating his fingers, now slips inside me. Emma pushes herself up to watch, keeping her legs spread decadently apart. I want to plunge into her again. Listen to her whimper.

  “Masturbate, Emma,” Tarren says, even as he stretches me further. Readying me for his cock. “Show him what you've learned...”

  Emma makes a funny little jerk with her arm, as if seriously doubting going through with this. But it's already too late. I'm stretched wide, and shout when he replaces his fingers with the tip of his lubricated, sheathed cock. It slips in, and he begins to thrust. Even as Emma now reaches for her center, teasing herself.

  First I expected to kill him. Now I'm being fucked by him.

  The pride and anger dashes away in light of the deepest addiction of all. The rub of flesh against flesh, the hot, shared sin of desire and lust.

  It's over too fast. Part of me slipped and lost concentration near the end, tumbling into moans, gasps, growls. At some point, I exploded within my condom, and Tarren, gripping me hard about the neck, came into his. His teeth sank into my shoulder, as if pinning me in place. By the time I focused on Emma, she'd stopped masturbating. I'm unsure if she came or not, but she stares at the both of us, dark eyes still wide.

  “That was hot,” she says.

  Tarren, now extricated from me, shakes with laughter. “Perhaps Mr. Forge here took on more than he could chew.”

  Cheeks flushing slightly, I tug off the condom, and go to wash myself in the sink. Tarren does the same, and I'm left to wonder what I've just got myself into.

  Emma

  What the hell have I just gotten myself into?

  I can barely register it. I want to muffle my screams in this pillow, because I can't process what I've just allowed myself to do. Willingly. With Tarren. Then with Richard and Tarren.

  Well, I think savagely into my cheap hotel pillow, at least my boss can't fucking complain now.

  What should have been a messy, impossible situation, somehow spun itself around and worked. Richard essentially caught me cheating on him. Sure, we hadn't technically doing anything more than one date, and I basically fucked that up too. I'm sure everyone finds a woman who can snort wine out of her nose hilariously attractive. Then I allow Tarren's words to just get inside, to persuade me that screwing him is a great idea, and that I should practise the move-set – for educational purposes, of course.

  A learning experience, for sure. But seeing Richard crash in, two grown dragons wreak devastation in Tarren's little home, green and black serpents thrashing and snarling – only to be used as a – a hostage – and then watching them...

  I let out another scream into my pillow, banging my fists against the soft mattress.

  Holy fuckshit.

  That actually happened.

  I can't hack this. I need to get out before it becomes too deep, too addictive. Before I lose all sense of who I am and the mission I'm supposed to be on.

  That's right. It's not all about you, is it?

  It's hard to know where to go from here. My mother and father'll kill me. They're not exactly sexual deviants themselves. Polite Christian upbringings, awkward and bumbling when it came to the birds and the bees talk. I'm sure they always did it under the blankets in darkness. I sometimes peered through the keyhole to see them under a slice of moonlight, covers moving. No sounds, no joy. Just mechanical.

  Not exactly great teachers of sex.

  Then I just never really found the time to indulge in it. Always something else to do. Now this.

  I'd sent a message to my boss to confirm, though I didn't mention about Tarren. He's a useful addition, but an unknown one. There's still pressure on me of course to discover what happened to the senator's daughter, though I'm not sure I'll find anything more than what other state agents know. Boss's got other private investigators swimming in the works, too, but none of them are an immune like me.

  I barely sleep and wake up tired. Though I should be one step closer to the mystery, it still feels like a long way away. I wonder how many people that I pass happen to be spies. How many of them might be people who know what happened to the missing woman? How many might have seen her on the last night she might have been alive?

  For people didn't go missing this long and turn out to be alive at the end of it. Though it might be nice to have surprises.

  I hoped to soon be out of this, in all honesty. Get a job waitressing or something, scrape every penny to put myself through courses again, and actually get a job as a Profiler. I missed college and the friends I had there, rather than this lonely waiting in hotels, dealing with people that I don't really know, with no idea how long I might be before getting called back, and placed on some other little task. Memories slither back. Of Richard's steely, black-dilated stare. Of Tarren's amber, the way the shadows cast strange angles over his face, the way the tattoos looked as if they were one step away from wriggling off his arms and into the arm. The fearsome dragons they morphed into.

  No. these people are more dangerous than humans. Dragons, wolves, bears, cats. Even lesser ones like coyotes and foxes and bulls served their purpose. I did wonder why you never got mice shifters or little animals.

  Guess it's not as sexy if the handsome man someone faces turns out to shift into a cockroach or something. Not quite as impressive as a dragon.

  An advertisement blares over the screen attached to an office bloc. The officia
l Honor Hunt, a bi-annual event for the shifters to enjoy. Summer and Winter Olympics to them. Only humans participated in the Honor Hunt. And only a select few could find themselves on it. I heard the chances of being picked for the Honor Hunt when you entered was about the same as being struck by lightning twice.

  Worth it for some humans. Who wouldn't want to live beyond their normal lifespan? You get paid to enter, if you're chosen. You go through the trials, and the top two are picked, and officially licensed to transform.

  I don't particularly have any desires to extend my lifetime. But there's plenty who do.

  The commercial is flashing the faces of those chosen for this summer's Honor Hunt. An old man, past his prime. A terminally ill cancer teen. A woman who looks like the victim of sexual abuse and prostitution.

  People not fit, healthy, and prime specimens of humanity. People who were practically dead men walking.

  There's a certain kind of savage elegance in it. Let them crumble away and die with mediocrity. Or let them die in the Honor Hunt, with a chance to turn their lives around, and help their loved ones, win or lose.

  Walking past the board, I consider the senator's daughter again. Lisa Arrow. What do I know about her? Not much. Certainly not enough past her social media presence and small news snippets showing her drinking outrageously with friends. Bit of a party goer, bit of a liberal, countering her father's republican, conservative beliefs. Walking around with rainbow flags, coming out as gender-fluid.

  The kind of shit you see people like my parents sneer at, whilst others state she has a right to be called what she wants. I don't know. I don't care. All I know is that I'm going to find my gender-fluid party-going liberal, no matter what it takes.