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Scratching an Itch

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Victor follows Butch and the rest of Penguin's men into the bar. It wasn't really where he wanted to go, but it's not like he had anywhere else to go. The guys wanted to go out for drinks and Victor knew there were benefits to listening to drunk men talk.

He wasn't sure which was worse- the bars or the clubs. The clubs were more crowded but usually if he was there he was on the job. He wished he were on the job. Stalking some unfortunate soul to put them to rest.

The men sit at a table, Victor on the outskirts, and order drinks. Scoping the room, Victor sees few other patrons tonight. At least that means it's quiet. He orders a water and sits back watching the other men take shots.

Ten minutes pass before she approaches. Victor had noticed her alone at the bar and had given a fleeting thought to why such a pretty girl was alone. She sets her drink down and stands, making a beeline for their table. The men all perk up upon seeing her advance but she only has eyes for Victor. She stops right in front of him, almost toe to toe.


Victor looks up at her and blinks.

"You're Victor Zsasz."

Victor continues to stare at her, feeling the eyes of all the other men on him.

"It's nice to finally meet you." She sticks out her hand. Unfazed by his lack of response, she pulls up a chair.

Victor examines the girl, intrigued. She's a pretty girl- long hair, pleasantly thin with curves in the right places. He tries to ignore the itch.

"I've never seen you here before." She continues their one-sided conversation. Leaning in to whisper conspiratorially she adds, "Actually I only came in because I saw you come in."

Victor looks at her, really looks at her. He can see it in her eyes. The tiredness, wanting it to end. She might as well come out and say "kill me please" because her eyes are screaming it to him. The itch worsens and he contemplates giving in. It had been quite awhile since he'd scratched that particular itch. Maybe he was overdue.

Victor stands and heads for the door, the girl following suit. He hails a taxi and opens the door for her. Getting in after her, he finally speaks, giving the driver the address.

"What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter."

Victor looks over at the girl, frowning. She isn't trashy. She wears snug jeans and a tank top with sneakers and minimal make-up. She's not a whore. Why does she want to die?

"It does. It matters to me."

She cocks her head to the side, studying him. "It does, doesn't it." Frowning she looks down at her hands in her lap. "You can call me Charlie."


"Short for Charlotte."

"How did you find me?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "It wasn't hard. A little bit of luck, a little bit of threatening the right people."

Victor smirks, trying to imagine the woman beside him threatening anyone.

The taxi stops and Victor pays the man. They get out in front of a plain looking townhouse. Victor leads the way to the front door, unlocking it. The inside is sparsely furnished- a bachelor pad for a man who is rarely home.

"The basement?" She questions, pointing to a heavy duty steel door.

Victor stares at her for a long moment before answering. "We're not going there."

She frowns at him, not liking his answer.

Victor heads for the stairs leading up instead. Charlie follows along behind. Rather than the basement, he leads her to his bedroom.

"Listen, I" she stops in the doorway.

"You listen." Victor whirls around and pins her against the door frame, his hand around her neck.

Her eyes spark, lips curved up and both hands gripping his wrist. "That's better." She gasps.

Victor releases her and walks over to the bed. He unstraps his guns and puts them on the bedside table.

"Why here? It's not easy to clean." She walks around the room surveying it.

Victor levels a stare at her. "Don't question my authority."

"Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Come here." He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

She obliges, her eyes widening in confusion.

He unbuttons his pants , then stops. He looks her up and down with a silent request. Her wide eyes grow more confused and nervous. With shaking hands she takes off her tank top, jeans, and shoes. He removes his pants so they're both in their underwear.

"Lie down."

"What are you going to do? Fuck me before you kill me?" She uncomfortably jokes, climbing onto the bed.

Victor turns from the night table, knife in hand. "Yes."

Joining her on the bed, Victor runs the knife up her leg. He jerks it, ripping through the delicate underwear. He looks up for Charlie's reaction and is slightly taken aback to see the dark look in her eyes and her teeth pulling at her lip. Tracing the knife up her stomach, her bra comes next- cut in half with a deft motion. He runs the knife under her breasts, around the side, across her collarbones. Running his hand up between her breasts, over her heart, Victor smiles. The knife replaces his hand and he makes two shallow slashes.

Charlie gasps in surprise then looks down at her chest and laughs. "A V? For Victor?"

"Marked as mine." His eyes roam over her body. He'd found her body beautiful from the first he'd saw it...but this woman...there was something more to her. More than an itch to scratch.

Tossing the knife away, Victor claims her mouth, kissing her hungrily. He kisses down her neck to lick the blood from her chest. When she finally moves to touch him, running her hands up his back, he groans. He wanted her. Wanted her body, wanted her soul, wanted her love. It was a brand new discovery for him, this feeling, this possession. He marks her again, this time with his teeth in her neck.

Sitting back, he admires his work. Her flushed cheeks, dark eyes, bleeding skin.

"What do you want now?"


Victor obliges, thrusting into her hard and fast. She wraps her arms and legs around him in encouragement. He continues to move fast and hard, eliciting delightful noises from her as her nails bite into his back.

Victor can tell from her breathing that she's getting close and clenches his jaw, holding back his own. When he feels her tighten around him he let's go, releasing inside her and sinking his teeth into her neck again.

Victor rolls over, taking her with him so she's laying on his chest. Her hair tickles his face and he gently brushes it away.



"Your skin, your hair."


"My bed is going to smell like vanilla now."

"Then wash it."

Victor wraps his arms around her. "Do you still want to die?"

She looks up into his eyes. "I don't know. I feel so alive. I came to you seeking one thing and seem to have found the opposite."

"Be mine."


"You know who I am. I might be crazy. I'm definitely not sane. I might be crazy though, because I want you to be mine."

"My life is yours. It has been since the moment I saw you."