Work Text:
You dragged your feet along the side of the highway, occasionally glancing behind you. The sun was quickly setting on the horizon, and you were beginning to fear that you’d have to find your way in the dark. Your house was not far, you knew, but trying to make it back through the woods at this hour would be insane. So you continued down the highway, hoping that someone, anyone would take pity on you, either way.
The light changed, and you glanced behind you to see headlights. You stuck your thumb out, hugging your jacket closer with your other hand. When you saw what the car was, you figured it was another bust—a new, shiny Dodge in cherry red, the owner of which would not likely be picking up hitchhikers at dusk. However, at the last moment, the brakes lit up, and the car slowed to a stop about fifty feet in front of you. You rushed to the window, the entire way nervously clutching the knife in your pocket. When you got to the already-open window, you saw a man—tall, soft features, well dressed, with hair that looked to have greyed beyond his age.
“You poor thing! How long have you been out here?” He asked. His voice was surprisingly soft for its depth, and his dark eyes were concerned and kind.
“Too long.” You laughed, “If you could just take me into town, I can make my way from there.”
“Absolutely, I’d be happy to. I couldn’t leave a young lady out by herself this late.” He reached over and opened the door slightly, and you climbed in, thankful. He resumed driving.
“I’m John.” He said, smiling your way. You smiled back and introduced yourself, giving a made-up name, just in case.
“So what were you doing out on the side of the road so late?” He asked, a tinge of something odd in his voice. Accusatory, almost.
“Just trying to get home.” You shrugged, lying, “I live in town but my car broke down out there. They said no one could get to it until morning.”
“Really? I didn’t see any cars back there.” He sounded innocent, but he shot you a distrustful glance.
“Alright,” You laughed airily, “I lied. I uh… I hit a deer, and the car’s kind of… in the woods.”
“Oh dear—uh, no pun intended,” He laughed, “But why not call the police?”
“Don’t want to deal with it. Easier to just go home and call a tow in the morning.” You sighed, “I’m too tired to deal with cops.”
“You’re not drunk, are you? Or on drugs? And don’t lie to me, I don’t want a stranger in my car hopped up on something.” His tone suddenly became fierce, and it unnerved you. You felt the outline of your knife.
“What? No. I just want to go home, man.” You shifted in your seat, and that seemed to placate him, for the most part. His eyes darted between buildings as you slowly approached the town.
“Uh, there’s a place up here you can leave me.” Your voice became uncertain, and you knew he sensed it.
“You know what? I’m actually staying the night here, would it be easier if I just took you to the motel and then let you on your way?” He smiled again, but something about it had changed.
“Uh, you know, not really, but you can drop me anywhere on the way.”
“Mm… no, I don’t think I will.” He spoke quietly, and his voice was hard as stone. You kept your knife in a death grip.
He pulled up to a dimly-lit motel, one you knew was infamous for its activity after dark.
“Get out.” He spoke in that same dark voice. Before you had the chance to do much of anything, he got out of the car and had moved to your side in a heartbeat. He opened the door and grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you out of the car. You said nothing, aside from a few noises of discomfort. You would not give him the satisfaction of hearing you plead.
He unlocked the door to a room and thrust you inside, locking the door behind him. Your shoe caught on the carpet and you fell, landing hard on your side, causing you to wince quietly as the handle of your knife bit into your thigh. You considered for a moment, but decided it was not the time to let him know you had a weapon as he drew himself on top of you, his eyes filled with a nauseating hunger. And yet, something moved inside you, barely there, when he pinned your hands above your head with one of his own. He glanced away and found a roll of duct tape on the bed next to him. He haphazardly wrapped it around your wrists several times before tearing the strip off with his teeth, pressing his chest into your face for a moment. The detergent smell of his freshly laundered suit mixed oddly with the smell of his own sweat, sterile yet venomous. You nearly made yourself laugh thinking about how it matched his personality. He slid back down over you, stopping to twirl your hair between his fingers, drinking in your scent himself. You had resolved to move as little as possible to avoid either angering him or exciting him, but his predatory eyes excited you . You looked away from him to try to erase the thought. In response, he grabbed your jaw, hard enough that you worried it might bruise. At least there’d be evidence for this one.
“Oh, no, sweetie, that’s not allowed. You’re going to look at me.” He murmured, his other hand making its way up your shirt, his fingertips rough against your skin. Suddenly, he grabbed your hip and, still gripping your jaw as well, lifted you effortlessly and tossed you onto the bed. You landed with a cough, and he removed his clothes with practiced hands. Before you could reach the edge of the bed he was on you again, lifting your shirt above your head to rest on your wrists. You felt a pang of shame when you caught yourself subconsciously admiring his body, glinting in the shards of neon light that pierced the curtains, as he paused to admire your bra.
“Mm, that’s beautiful. Red really suits you, baby.” He purred, pushing one hand up under it to pull lightly at your nipple. To your frustration, your body reacted instinctively, stiffening at his touch.
“The body doesn’t lie, huh?” He smirked, moving his hands down, removing your jeans and your underwear with them. He used one hand to pry your legs apart further while the other passed along your slick.
“That’s what I like to see, baby. Already wet for me. Good girl. I bet you wanted to fuck me as soon as you saw me, didn’t you?” He crowed, pressing the tips of his fingers to your mouth, “Open up. Come on, open, open.”
You rolled your eyes slightly and obliged, sucking your own wetness off his fingers, taking care not to swallow. He smiled, and looked down at you proudly.
“That’s it. Such a slut, aren’t you? You were just asking for it in the car.” As he passed his hands over your body again, you spat what was still in your mouth at him. It caught him on the cheek. He paused for a moment, fire in his eyes, before he laughed bitterly and swiped it away with two fingers.
“I see.” His voice rumbled in his chest. He pushed your leg up, so fast and rough you thought it might have pulled a muscle, and placed your legs around his hips. It wasn’t until then that you actually saw what you had been dragged into. It would hurt.
He pushed into you roughly, and it made you cry out. He chuckled deviously.
“She speaks.” He gloated, burying his face in your neck to envelop himself in your scent again as he snapped his hips into yours. He was so harsh that you were sure bruises would form on your ass, and yet you still felt that aggravating pressure building within you. It was getting hard to be quiet either way.
“Mm, you’re being so good for me. Just taking it.” He murmured into your neck. You were hoping he would finish soon, because too much longer would get dangerous. He smirked as he pulled his face away and replaced it with his hand, pressing down on your throat with a surprising ferocity.
Oh God…
You laid there with just barely enough room to breathe, watching him move above you, the tendons in his neck straining. Before you knew it, you were quietly shaking, trying to avoid making any noise so he wouldn’t know what was happening even as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. You failed, and when a squeak came out of your mouth he glanced down with a smirk.
“Are you cumming? You little whore.” For a moment, striking pain—he had slapped you. As you went limp beneath him, exhausted from the adrenaline, he finished inside you with a series of animalistic growls. When he was done, he lifted from you and stood up, aggressively pulling the tape from your wrists.
“Put your clothes on and get out, slut.” He said dismissively, not even looking at you as he wiped himself off in the mirror. Slowly, you reached for your jeans, and as you lifted them you fished the knife from your pocket. You inched behind him on the bed, took a deep breath, and lunged for him. One arm wrapped around his throat as you pressed the knife into the small of his back. Your eyes met his in the mirror, him looking like a pig that’s just realized it’s been sent to slaughter.
“My turn.” You smirked, “I think we’ll find that red suits both of us.”