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The Captain

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Charlie came back that day. You didn’t expect to see him. You thought they’d surely have gotten to him by now. But sure enough, there he was. You’d been closing the chip shop for the day. Closing early on account of being short staffed, the boss dealing with legal things now and Charlie, well, out of a job.

You turned around and saw him standing in the door. Just standing there. As if he’d been watching you. As if that weren’t eerie enough, he seemed mad. He was still, yet not quite. Fists clenched, the only movement from him was the way his arms trembled. As if his own body and mind were too much to control. His clothes were wrinkled and there were spatters of blood all over his form.

You began to open your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it. “You told.” He stated. As if it were nothing. The ‘what?’ you uttered was a knee jerk reaction despite knowing he was right. Before you knew it, his body was looming over yours. “YOU BLOODY FUCKING TOLD!” His voice bellowed through the empty store.

You gulped then. Not out of fear though. Your heart was racing, breathing already coming quicker. You wanted to feel his rage. You wanted to taste the blood on his skin. You wanted him to mark your body. And when you felt his hand around your throat, it seemed you might just get your way.

His hand tightened its grip on you, pushing against your larynx. With a gasp, your lips parted at the pure strength you felt in that clutch. Without a doubt, come morning there’d be rings around your neck. “You bloody fucking told, you cunt.” He growled quietly in his ear. There was a drop of blood on his cheek. Right beside your lips. The thought of licking it from his skin was tantalizing.

His grip tightened on your throat when you said nothing. “Yes.” You choked out before slipping your tongue from your mouth to taste that one little drop. There was a moment. His body stiffened at the feel of your tongue on him, his hand tightening more and cutting off your air supply entirely. You fought against his solid body, thrashing against him. Digging your nails into his skin, you felt his flesh rip followed by a light, warm trickle of his own blood.

The room rushed by when he you threw to the counter. You caught yourself, the edge digging into your back from his force, gasping for breath. Before you could process anything more than ‘air’, he was on you. He had your back on the counter, his fingers pressing into the reddened skin of your neck. He stared down at you wordlessly. There was a smile on his face and laughter in his voice as you tried harder to fight against him.

His legs pinned yours and only his hands wrapped around your neck kept you in place, his strength bearing down on you like a brick wall. Still, you fought. Not because you wanted him to stop. No, you wanted him to keep going. You wanted this. You wanted Charlie and you wanted his strength and fire and rage. You wanted more.

Your arms shoot out towards him. Punching, hitting, scratching. The sting and heat you feel when your skin slaps across his is pleasing. Your nails tear at the flesh on his arms, making more droplets of his blood spring forth. Yelling, he leans in just close enough for you to punch him hard, his hands loosening on your neck as he nearly stumbled back. A shock of pain wound through your arm at the hit. But when you saw that your ring split his cheek, saw the light stream of blood flowing down his cheek. Your breath nearly caught in your throat. You tried to sit up so you hold grab a hold of him to taste, but he had you pinned again.

His face inches from yours, it was obvious that he wasn’t your focus. It was the blood, his blood that had your attention. That was when it changed. Mouth open, lip quivering. Charlie knew exactly what you wanted from him. His hands keeps on your body kept you in place as he slowly turned his head, lowering it to you. As his blood neared your lips, your breath came quicker in excitement.

When it was close enough, your tongue slipped from your mouth and tentatively touched to the end of the flow. With a shaky moan escaping you, your licks become hungrier, whining when it met the swelled injury. Charlie’s fingers tightened around you, not wanting you to stop making those sounds of yours. Savagely, you bit down on him, ripping his slash further. His blood flowed into your mouth, coating your tongue in the most dangerous way. The taste of him, of his blood made your eyes roll back into your head and drowned the angry howl that erupted from him.

Charlie moved too quickly for you to notice that he had both your pants and his own down. You knew the sneer on his face was put there by the fact that you were already so wet that he slid in with ease. Everything was already so much. His blood, your bruised body, him, the jerk of hips into yours. Your own moans were loud enough to ring in your ears. His hips froze and he pulled from you slightly, from your mouth. Wordlessly, he stared down at you and simply pressed his finger to your lips, wanting you to quite down.

But the moment your lips were on him again, when you felt that warm liquid in your mouth, you whines and moans returned. It was clear that Charlie’s was perturbed by your insolence from the way his arms shook. It was his tell. It meant everything was too much for him. That, try as he might, he couldn’t control what he knew would give him satisfaction in that moment. It meant something was going to happen.

That was the moment he bit you. He didn’t just bite you though. No, he crushed your lower lip with his teeth. He split it wide open. Your own warm blood flowed freely into his mouth, smeared across his lips, onto yours, and onto your own waiting tongue. The thought of your blood in his mouth, that he was tasting you, that you were both tasting you together was enough. That was when you went over edge.

Digging your nails into his skin, you raked your fingers down back knowing there’d be angry red lines were surely already forming. As Charlie sucked your lip hard, willing more blood into his mouth, your body began to writhe, hips demanding more from him, your muscles contracting around him. It drew a strangled growl from him as his body shook, meeting your quickened hips.

His teeth clamped down on you as your muscles did him. A lighter stream of blood trickling from your wound. Moments after you, Charlie finally found his release, fingers tightening harder still around your neck. Then turning soft and caressing the marks his hands left when he’d finished.

Silence filled the shop when you both came down from your high. Charlie’s movements, pulling his pants into place followed by doing the same for you, were jerky. You would’ve taken notice but his lips were stained with your blood and hadn’t stopped running your tongue over the broken flesh since he parted from you.

You watched in wonder as he turned and walked out the door. Not a word was said. It was… fuck. You slid off the counter, ready to wipe it down from your little romp with Charlie. Until the door swung open. You turned to find Charlie again. Instead of watching you though, he strode over to you, covered your busted lip with his, and gave the injury a kiss. This time when he left without a word, you shook your head, a smirk on his face. “How very strange.”