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Survival of the Fittest

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Gotham had turned to shit.

I mean it had always been shit, and only ever seemed to get shittier, but now it was truly shit.

Gotham had always been full of crooks, thieves, arsonists and murderers, but ever since that twat Jeremiah had blown up the bridges connecting the city to the rest of the world things had only gotten worse.

Panic had settled in almost immediately and those who weren't smart enough to hide, or had enough balls to defend themselves had been slaughtered in the chaos. Natural selection at it's finest. I was quite proud to be a mixture of the two - loading my bag with all weapons at my disposal and slithering through the alleyways to my 'safe zone'. It was the basement of an already shoddy building with broken windows, blood splattered furniture and graffiti ridden walls. It hadn't been that way when I bought it - just had a problem with damp and rats. But I knew even a dingy place like that would be target for robbery, so I tore down the poor building's dignity so that no one would bother with a house they had thought had already been ransacked. The real living space, of course, was several feet below that. I was quite proud.

Surprisingly, I only came across one crazed idiot on my way there and by the time he'd taken his first step towards me he had a bullet through him. I only ventured out when boredom threatened to send me as crazy those who were dead, or when I needed to stock up on food or alcohol. After all, what's life in a quickly dying city without a bit of booze?

Today is one of the former times, having been shut in for three days. I tie up my boots and holster my gun, blade in hand and step up into the the rubble of the upper house. Crunching glass under my feet, I scan the area to make sure its clear and the skulk into the shadows.

I head towards one of the industrial estates, hoping to find some drunk bastard to toy with. Being cut off really does bring out the worst in people. Not that I was especially innocent before, but I only really ever killed when need be, and my father had taught me well enough that I'd survived this long. I edge along the wall of the warehouse next to me, peering around the corner just in time to see a GCPD car speed off.

I wonder what it was doing round here, but don't get enough time to figure it out as I feel the presence of a figure behind me. I spin round, knife at the ready, just to be knocked back against the wall, my wrist in the firm grip of my assailant as my weapon drops to the ground. The man before me stands about a head taller than me so I have to strain to look up. A rather boyish smile is painted on the white face of Victor Zsasz, his dark eyes staring intently into mine. He tuts at me.

"Its a bit rude to point a knife at someone you've just met, dont you think?" He smirks. I can't help but snort.

"Its a bit rude to ambush a stranger, dont you think?"

"I wouldn't call this an ambush sweetheart, more of an involuntary meeting." He is standing impossibly close to me, barely an inch between our chests, his fist still wrapped around my wrist. I try to push him off with my other arm only to have that too gripped tightly against the bricks behind me. I lift my knee to his groin but miss, hitting his thigh instead. His hot breathe lingers on my skin as his eyes darken. He pushes further up against me, until my breats heave against his chest.

"That's not very nice, kitten." He growls in my ear. His breathe travels down my neck and sends a shiver up my spine. My heart races at being held so tightly by a notorious hitman, and I curse at myself for retaliating. I should know by now that I'm always better at talking my way out than fighting.

"Shouldn't you be dead by now? I heard penguin was planning to have your head rolling at his feet." I try to sound steady and confident but my voice wavers a little.

"Plans change, sweetheart. But nothing beats the feeling of a fresh kill when you've almost died." He groans, shifting his weight against me. So that's what hes doing, looking for someone to kill while his adrenaline still runs through his veins. Of course I'd be the lucky fucker who ends up in the other end of that bullet. I try to think fast, and thankfully I have my womanhood on my side.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr Zsasz," I lean up to whisper in his ear "Nothing beats the feeling of a good fuck." My words linger in the air and it's his turn to shiver. "Let me show you what I mean."

Never in my life did i imagine that i would be fighting for my life with a notorious hitman at dusk, trying to seduce him with my womanly charms. Trying and succeeding it seems, as he releases his grip on me enough for me to drop to my knees in front of him. I still have my back to the wall as I palm him through his trousers, watching him steadily as he stares down at me with a hunger I've never seen before. I smile coyly at him as his semi hard cock stiffens at my touch, and unbuckle his belt.

As much as I'd like to say I'm doing this as a last resort to save my life, I can't deny the way my heart pounds as he looks at me, and the heat that pools between my legs as I think about what is about to happen.

I take put his cock, silently praising the size of him. I smile and look up through my eyelashes at him as I swirl my tongue to his tip. He stares at me as I slowly take his shaft into my mouth, and at every inch I suck my way back up before heading back down. My pace is slow and tantalising , and victor seems to be running out of patience. He grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks my head down, choking me with his size. He fucks my mouth hard and fast, and my eyes start to water as saliva starts to drip from my mouth. The sounds I'm making are vile, and he seems to love it, taking in every inch of me as he reaches his climax.

He stops, showing a surprising amount of control and pulls me up. I swallow hard, but instantly relax as his mouth crashes into mine. I moan happily as I drag my nails across any bare skin I can find. He hisses at me, wrapping a hand around my throat and slamming my head back against the wall. My head spins, but I can still feel the rough way he kneads my breasts, sliding his hand under my shirt to pinch each nipple. I cant help but moan and writhe beneath him.

I'm helplessly pinned against a wall by a murderer, and yet I've never been so turned on. I feel an ache in my stomach, a need for his cock to be inside of me. Seemingly reading my mind, victor pulls back to lick his lips at me. "Beg for it." Its an order.

I dont know what to say, I've never voiced my needs before and I'm embarrassed. Victor doesn't care. His hand moves from my throat to my head to give a sharp pull. The pain brings me to my senses and sends another jolt of pleasure through me.

"Please,"

"Please...?"

"Please, fuck me zsasz," I whisper, eyes boring into his.

"Your wish is my command, kitten."

And with that he spins me around, my breasts to the wall as he produces a knife to tear a rather large hole in the crotch of my pants. I feel so dirty, about to be fucked in an ally, but also so alive. I feel his fingers through the opening, striking my soaked panties. I hear his contented sigh. I whimper as he massages my cunt through the thin cotton, before moving it to the side to slip two fingers into me. I buck agaisnt them, so in love with the feeling of something finally inside of me.

Too soon they're gone, but now replaced by the tip of his cock rubbing in my juices. Zsasz thrusts into me hard, and it stings without time for adjustment. Thankfully, my body helps me out and soon he gets into a steady rhythm, the sounds of our bodies colliding echoing around us. I feel his arms slither around my waist, one gripping me tightly to keep me steady, and the other slinking down to rub my clit. I almost scream at the contact. Soon I can feel my peak building, and so can victor. "Go on kitten, cum for me." And i do. I ride the waves of my orgasm for what feels like years, stars clouding my vision. Victor soon joins me, and I'm sure we're both making enough noise to get that cop car back.

Our sweaty bodies stick together, heaving in unison. Victor pulls out of me tucking himself back in. I turn around and slump against the wall, watching him. His pale skin seems to glow in the low light, and he seems so beautiful. He catches me staring. "So, what do they call you darling."

"Lucky," I smirk, and he returns it.

"You know, I dont think a name has ever suited someone better." He remarks.

"And why is that?"

"Because you should be dead by now." He looks at me pointedly, but I just paint on a sultry smile and slink towards him.

"But I'm not, am I, Mr zsasz?" I purr into his ear.

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I hope you enjoyed! If you liked it and would like a part 2, please leave a comment / kudos!

Thanks for reading :)