Archive of Our Own

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    The trial had gone so well, minimal mistakes being made as you goaded the explosive prime asset while your fear-stricken duo stuck to the shadows for the radios. Sweat clung to your body, bloody clothes and perforations decorating the fabric only proving how efficient your goading riled up Franco. Half of you enjoyed the way your quips angered the man, yet the other half remained worried of your fellow reagents' terror at the idea of going toe to toe with the prime asset. 

    Her fear wasn’t unfounded, the gruesomeness of his MK challenges striking fear into the hearts of majority of the reagents, and the nature of his words always carried a surprising amount of threat when faced with the barrel end of Lupara. Many times you’d stared down the barrel and just smiled and told him to pull the trigger, rather facing a quick death instead of whatever kind of torments he’d come up with in retaliation for your cocky attitude. 

    The union boss struggled against his restraints, crying out for the man to kill both of you as you escorted him closer to the meat plant. Wracked sobs rang out from his sack-covered head, a tightness coiling in his throat as the stench of rotted meat filled his lungs. 

    “Oh god.. I can smell the meat.. Please don’t. Oh god. Oh my god. Franco-” A retch cut off his words as he was pushed into the tube. His body thrashed against metal confines with desperate hope they’d malfunction and let him free despite the block of cement securing his feet and ankles. 

    Your teammates eyes widened as she stepped into the arena-like factory, her breathing quickening with fear. It must have been the first time she performed in this trial- or the first time she had ever made it this far. Her head swiveled to you, white knuckled fingers clinging to her heal as if it was a comforting plush instead of harsh cylindrical metal. With apprehension swallowed down, you gave her a curt nod and ran for the darkened areas to start preparing hearts. 

    “Hide down here in the dark areas, I’ll deal with Franco,” your teeth grit as you spoke in hushed tones, watching her nod with dewy eyes and shaking limbs, “just watch for the signs on the bottom for me, ok? You’ll be fine, we’ll get back into the sleeproom-” 

    “Don’t stick your neck out for me,” her voice was meek, riddled with uncertainty and hesitance as she grabbed the hearts from the basin, “you’re a great reagent but even you can’t work miracles. I’ve heard the hushed whispers in the sleeproom, and I watched from the houses as you carelessly ran around. You have a lot of pride, but pride won’t make you bulletproof.”  A frown pulled at your features, nails digging into the dripping organ as you stalked back out of the cold rooms in favor of hitting the safety signs. 

    The blare of the insertion gate caught your attention, feet planted firmly on the grated walkway upstairs. Weary eyes landed on the irritated prime stepping from the darkness. Taut muscles twisted into a grimacing smirk on your face, your body twisting to run along the upstairs catwalks in search of the next safety sign. All you had to do was keep his focus and let your teammate do her job. Confidence swelled in your chest. 

    “You actually came out of the insertion gate? I figured you’d turn tail and hide after that embarrassing performance in the neighborhood,” your toothy grin was met with a heated glare, Lupara flinging in your direction as he ran up the staircase- metal clanging from where his shot just barely missed your shoulder. The chase had never stopped since the suburban neighborhood, a game of cat and mouse that was destined to leave scars littered across body and mind. 

    How long you had been running up top, ducking behind boxes and crates, was lost in the confines of the trial. Heaving breaths left your mouth dry and throat tight, any remarkable retorts to his usual chatter lost in the vice of dehydration and gasps. Franco pursued closely around every turn, landing enough shots to leave your body sore and bloody, but not enough to halt your stride. The symbol you needed was downstairs, and your teammate had yet to approach the lit area down below. Frustration boiled under your skin as your gaze shifted from the prime asset pursuing you, glaring at the darkened area where your teammate lurked. How much time did she need while he was kept from the ground floor?

    “For the love of god..” The Union Boss groaned, blood soaking him as another body fell into the tube- the metal casing releasing his arms to allow him to slam against the thick glass. Relief washed over you: a distraction that cost more than just the skin off your back. Approaching footsteps went unnoticed in your moment of unspoken anger towards your terrified teammate.

    “Cocktease little whore,” searing pain ripped through your calf, your upper body falling against the railing with a sharp inhale, “just had to run your god damn mouth, wanted to be seen so fucking bad. Well here’s your fucking spotlight.” The world shifted as your feet suddenly left the floor. Your ears rang from the close range shot, further disorienting in conjunction with the sudden shift in position. Time seemingly slowed as you were dumped over the railing, eyes widening with cold surprise. 

    Words of praise fell from the Union boss’ lips after you crashed against the floor, the impact audible even over the loud machinery in the meat plant. Thoughts stalled, unable to focus on the words of the Union boss. Disoriented with double vision you barely recognized your teammate sprinting from the dark with her rig in hand. Her fearful expression was twisted with desperation and unspoken apologies as she approached. With ringing ears, your vision came back into focus as you sat up slowly- wincing from newfound aches. 

    She froze in her tracks, eyes shifting from your dazed expression to the approaching prime asset. In an instant, she was sprinting back into the dark while spouting apologies rife with fear. The sound of footsteps approaching behind induced a sobering realization as the shadow of Franco cascaded over your disorientated form. 

    “So there’s your little friend, huh? Hiding away like a rat while you take the brunt of my attention?” Amusement slipped past the anger of his words, the butt of Lupara connecting with the side of your skull. Pain exploded in your head, your upper body collapsing against the floor again with a harsh cry. Gloved digits wrapped around your injured leg's ankle, yanking with a force that left your body sprawled and hands scrambling for purchase. 

    “Should’ve known you good for nothing whores were up to no good,” your nails desperately clawed at the floor as Franco dragged you further into the cold room, talking outwardly in the dark with the intention of your teammate hearing- “come on out.. I just want to play. You don’t want anything bad to happen to your team, right?” The childlike tone roused discomfort in your gut. 

    Fear ran through your veins as his gaze turned back to you, an icy vice tangling itself around your chest. The shine of his pupils under your night vision was unmistakable; he was staring directly at your obscured face in the dark. You scanned for your teammate, body twisting and legs kicking desperately at the man hovering over you. 

    His grip abandoned your ankle in favor of the goggles themselves, darkness exacerbating the panic rising in your throat. The metal was roughly tugged from your eyes, pressure around your temples leaving you squirming against his grip while he yanked you around effortlessly in the dark. The edge of your ESOP slammed against the rim of the heart tank with a loud clang, mouth opening to formulate a warning for your teammate before your head was dunked into the bloody vat. 

    Blood filled your nostrils and coated your tongue, palms pressed firmly against the metal vat rim before ripping at Franco's sleeve. With burning lungs, your shoes scraped against the floor in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Desperation clawed its way from your throat, searing pain blossoming in your palm with a loud ring from the shot of Lupara at such close range. A scream wasn’t even feasible through the thick and viscous fluid clinging to your face and hair. 

    “You wanna drown someone in blood so badly? Kill a guy in a fucked up way? Experience it yourself,” your head was ripped up from the bloody vat with repeated coughs and sputters. Franco’s grip on your night vision goggles tightening with irritation, his gloves slick with blood. “All that talking and now you’re dead silent? No fucking decency.”

    Gasping breaths barely allowed a formulated response, chest heaving and hand clutched underneath your ESOP in an attempt to cease the bleeding from the fresh wound to your palm- “you’re so worked up over two reagents, did we really give you that much trouble? Don’t even have the balls to kill me yourself? Gonna drown me in the dark cause you can’t stomach-” Partially coagulated blood filled your mouth again, the enraged growl from the prime above you giving all the confirmation you needed that your words struck a nerve once more. A quick death was a mercy in this place.

    Pressure relinquished, his grip suddenly lost with a surprised grunt. Your head flung back from the vat, greedily sucking down sickeningly sweet air that clung to the inside of your mouth. Uncomfortable heaviness and smothered alveoli ebbed away pain. An analgesic that left your limbs feeling light yet leaded. Your teammate sprinted away from Franco, his anger turned towards her retreating form- into the lit up factory. The lingering stench of her heal rig made you feel light-headed, yet it was still apparent that the lack of darkness to shroud herself in wouldn’t bode well for either of you.  

    “Get back here,” Franco pursued, firing off two shots in quick succession, “scurrying slut, you think Murkoff will save you? You think anyone will save you?” Your breathing evened out, pounding heart slowing as you recuperated, wiping at the bloodied mess on your face and eyes. It only took a moment for you to rise to your feet, uninjured hand grasping at your stun to check if it was recharged- almost. Not enough time to keep your teammate from getting the brunt of the anger you unleashed though, as the sound of her pained cry pulled you from the darkness of the cold room. 

    Your shoulder connected with the prime, utilizing all your body weight as he stood over your shaking teammate, silenced through fear and pain. Blood decorated her side, clothes dampening quickly from the profuse bleeding of her wound. You managed to shove him off her, yet the wounds he inflicted were much more critical than your own. Confusion knit into your brows. How easily she was taken down, how swift and precisely she was hunted. 

    “You think you’re so fucking smart,” the body of Lupara shoved against your throat, forcing you off balance and staggering back against the tube that confined the Union Boss, “think I don’t know what little game you’re playing at?” Franco’s face was mere inches from your own, the crushing weight of the gun against your trachea sending your mind reeling. Nails dug into fabric, shoving at his chest and kicking at his legs. 

    “Kill them, for the love of god just kill them, please,” the Union Boss pleaded, blind to what was going on outside the tube, yet the chaos still audible outside his death chamber.

    “What are you even talking about,” you gasped, “there is no game..” Black spots formed in your vision with thoughts jumbling into a catastrophic storm. The weight of Lupara left your throat, replaced with thick fingers, the pad of his thumb brushing over your pulse- threatening yet not cutting off oxygen. His expression shifted to something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, half-lidded eyes examining your bloodied features as you greedily sucked in air. 

    The barrel of Lupara trailed down past your ESOP, pressing roughly between your thighs. Your hands instinctively grabbed his wrist, pushing down on his arm and body stretching in an attempt to get away from the weapon. Pressure exerted against your throat, a warning that only relented once you let go of his wrist. His gaze never left your face, droopy eyes softening ever so slightly- a direct contrast to the harshness of his touch. 

    “All this time.. Every insult.. Fucking tease, when’s it going to be my turn?” His gaze steeled once more, lips crashing against yours carelessly. The barrel of the gun pressed roughly between your legs, grinding against your clothed sex. The sharp gasp that parted your lips ever so slightly was enough of an invitation, his tongue invading the warmth of your bloodied mouth. 

    Your eyes squeezed shut, leg shifting to knee him in the groin, deft hands moving to rip the stun off your ESOP. The low purr he let out in response had your heart racing, convoluted emotions tangling within your core.  His body pressed against yours, further caging you against the partially filled tube housing the Union Boss. Your rig sat uncomfortably crushed between your bodies, hand trapped against the bulky metal. A light flush spread across your cheeks, heat pooling in your core with each shift of Lupara. 

    “What the fuck are you doing out there? Are they dead? Am I safe?” The Union Boss broke the forced silence, his shaky voice apprehensive with hands pressing against the tube. “Franco? Anyone?”

    Franco’s body tensed, breaking the kiss with an irritated scowl, “can’t you hear I’m bus-” the flash of the stun blinded you both, your body falling to the floor as he stepped back in surprise. Decisions ran through your mind, all leading to the same outcome of a tortuous death no matter how you tried to spin an escape. A momentary glance at your pained teammate left a sinking pit in your stomach. Her glassy eyes met yours with a silent apology, unbeknownst to her the type of hell that’d await her if you allowed him to kill her in his enraged state.

    You sprung forwards, knocking the disoriented man down with a yell. Within seconds you positioned yourself, straddling his fallen form with hands up in surrender- the barrel of Lupara aimed directly at your face. 

    “What the fuck’s the matter with you?” You could’ve sworn his eye twitched, muscles tense as he partially propped himself up on his other arm. Racing thoughts made it difficult to pinpoint how to approach the situation, eyelashes fluttering slightly as you mulled over your limited options.

    “You want a taste? You sure talk big for someone that can’t even get it up. So much enthusiasm but so little to offer, you couldn’t even please a woman if you tried,” your mouth opened, tongue lolling out as you ran it along the body of Lupara, lips enveloping the end of the sawed off barrel as much as you could before pulling off teasingly, “you want some fun? Let my teammate go. Fair enough exchange?”

    His laugh took you by surprise, lips curling into a grin, “how fucking clever, you think you hold power here?” The bitterness of his words cut into your confidence, something you couldn't show during a crucial time for both your teammate and your own survival. Trepid hands rested on his shoulders, sliding to his chest under your half-lidded gaze, taking note of his hitched breath. 

    “All that talk of proving you can get it up and you pussy out right when the opportunity presents itself? How… Interesting..” you chided, smugness masking the growing concern in the pit of your chest. Fingers splayed against his chest and traveled under the coat of his jacket to explore his sides- lips pressing lightly against the end of Lupara with a chaste kiss. 

    “You’re only proving everyone right, you’re hardly a man. Sick, twisted, and alone. You can’t even perform in front of an enthusiastic audience. I don’t know why I fooled myself,” his body shuddered - almost easy to miss if you weren’t intently gazing down at the man beneath you- “tell me, Bambi, what do you want? Two bloodied corpses, or someone that’s actually offering to touch you without monetary payment.” The teasing nature of the nickname felt juvenile, yet too enticing with how it made him squirm. 

    Your mouth enveloped the barrel of Lupara once more, strings of saliva cascading down the metal and wood– hands dragging down his chest to settle on hooking bloodied fingers under his belt. Your gaze never broke from his, watching the small ways his expression changed and a very light flush spread across his cheeks. His lips parted slightly, gaze examining your every move as if expecting you to pull away, run, or do anything besides keep yourself planted on his lap. 

    Your lips pulled away from the gun once more, tongue pressing against the barrel in a dangerous game. You weren’t even sure if the gun was loaded or not, the potential outcome of getting shot point blank in the head being a consideration you weighed heavily in favor of- if not for your teammate dragging herself towards the entrance of the meat plant. If only you could visualize the distasteful expression plastered on her features as you shamelessly offered your body to save another. 

    “Do we have a deal? You aren’t one to hesitate, Franco Barbi.” It was stated matter-of-factly, devoid of emotion compared to the heavy petting and coos of enticement falling from flushed lips. “Do I need to be more convincing? Or is it because you can’t actually get it up?” A low blow you intended to exploit, fingers roughly grabbing at his clothed groin with a harsh squeeze- relishing in the way his body language changed from his usual bravado to conflicted uncertainty. 

    “If you don’t answer I’m going to assume it’s a no, and that I was correct in my assumptions. You could always just shoot me, get it done and over with. Finish me off, it’ll probably be the only way I’d finish anyways,” you moved around Lupara, rapidly closing the gap between your faces, tone shifting as your lips grazed past his own, “it’s ok to be inadequate, Bambi.” Teeth nipped at his jaw, confident that the quiet whimper was vocal submission. 

    His lips parted as if expecting a kiss as you closed the gap, disappointment etched across his features. Lupara lowered closer to the floor, slipping from his loose grasp in favor of tugging on the thin fabric of your shirt. Strangely docile compared to the previous outbursts you goaded from him. Your fingers squeezed once more, pulling a shaky gasp from the man underneath you as he squirmed under your rough treatment. 

    “M-mommy..” Neediness dripped from his voice, his arms wrapping around you to pull you down to the floor with him. Your reaction was visceral, the word searing through your facade before retaining your composure. A twinge of guilt wormed its way through your chest, quickly squashed under the desire to keep your body in mostly one piece in a trial unknowingly damned since the start. 

    “So desperate to prove yourself, it’s almost as admirable as it is sad. Be good for me and maybe I’ll let you rut against me like the mongrel you are.” The arousal laced in your voice came as a chilling surprise, the burning ache in your core unbearable. His body shuddered with panting breaths, squirming under you with an uncomfortable submission. There was no turning back now. Your lips met his, tongues intertwining and exploring each other. 

    “For gods sake.. What the fuck is wrong with you people. I don’t want to hear this shit.” The Union Boss spat, coughing and retching as he struggled inside the tube, trapped in his own purgatory, “you’re both fucking sick.”

    A weight fell from your chest, the straps of the ESOP expertly undone by the man underneath you. A concerning familiarity. How many times had he removed an ESOP from a reagent, how familiar he was with removing the straps even with gloves on. Lingering on the thought made you queasy- forcing your focus elsewhere in deluded confidence. Your tongue swirled around his, movements languid and restrained compared to the suffocating clinginess of his. Blood mixed with saliva, the taste of his spit overwhelmed by coppery bitterness. 

    A needy groan slipped past interlocked lips, walls fluttering around nothing with disappointing emptiness. With a final squeeze, your hand relinquished its grip on his groin in favor of sliding under his shirt, tracing the scarred flesh and mapping out the intricacies of his anatomy. How badly you wanted to break the kiss, to see the expression painted across his face- how rare an occurrence it must be for him to have interactions that weren’t transactional. Even if it started with a deal, the lines blurred as the haze of arousal diminished inhibitions.

    With a shift of your hips, you readjusted over him- knee nestling between his thighs with a crushing pressure. His hips ground against you, further digging your knee into his still limp cock with needy whimpers. Stiff, bloodied fingers undid the buttons of his top, smearing the dark fluid across his exposed sternum. 

    You allowed yourself a moment to break the kiss with a string of saliva and panting breaths. Against your better judgement, you gazed down at the man, drinking in his flushed half-lidded expression. The way he stared up at you, gloved fingers tangled in the fabric of your shirt- tugging in an attempt to get you within kissing distance again. Desire wriggled throughout your thoughts, clouded judgement becoming more distorted at the offering of wanton touch. 

    “Tell me what you want,” a soft coo, allowing yourself to be pulled back down against the man sprawled underneath you- head tilted just enough to keep his mouth off your own. It did little to help, his lips trailing fervored kisses along your blood-soaked jawline and neck. Crooked teeth grazed the delicate skin, suckling along your neck to leave a trail of bruises in his wake. Your thighs quivered, a chill running down your spine lulling you further into clouded lust. 

    “Franco,” chastisement was evident in your tone, open palms pressing against his chest in an attempt to create space between your tangled bodies. A low hum was all you received in return, his grasp on you bordering on clingy. Drool ran down your neck, soaking in the collar of your shirt- annoyance building at the blatant display of ignoring. “Are you deaf? Or is this such a rare occurrence for you that you lose your head?”  you ground your knee against his now evident arousal, relishing in the way he hissed and shuddered.

    Your hand caught under his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze with pupils blown so wide you could barely see the blue of his irises. Slick coated your inner thighs, how pathetic he looked in that moment, when not even minutes before he had you drowning in a vat of blood for amusement. How much of it was his own facade, locked in a similar prison as the rest of the experimental population, just with longer shackles. The question was barely entertained before lost in the haze shrouding your mind.

    “If you won’t make your mouth useful, I’ll make the decision for you.” You roughly shoved away from him, tearing at the thin fabric of your pants before climbing over his chest- straddling his head between your thighs. 

    “Please mommy, I’ll be good..” His whine was intoxicating, thick fingers pulling at your hips impatiently. Needing no more enticing, you lowered yourself over his mouth, shuddering at the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds. How quick you were to let your guard down around an enemy of your own making. 

    “How pathetic of a prime asset, I don’t know what Easterman sees in you,” your hips ground roughly against his tongue, hand reaching to the formerly discarded Lupara, “maybe that’s part of your appeal, like an unwanted feral mutt picked up by even more mangy humans.” His tongue curled against your walls, pressing inside you with a neediness that ignited a desire you struggled to contain. The barrel of Lupara traced up your abdomen and chest, leaning back slightly to get a better view of Franco while pressing the tip of the gun against your lips once more. 

    Your toes curled in pleasure as he sucked at your clit, uncaring of the lewd noises from his mouth against your folds. Your tongue ran along the length of Lupara, lustful gazes meeting with unspoken promise. A familiar heat built in your lower abdomen, coiling tightness that drove you to grind harshly against his tongue. The barrel of Lupara slipped past your lips, jaw extending uncomfortably as you forced the gun further towards the back of your throat. 

    “I fucking hate it here.. You’re all sick fucks. Easterman.. Please just fucking kill me..” The Union Boss droned, his hands covering his ears as best he could with the sack on his head, “I never left hell.”

    You barely spared a passing glance back towards the Union Boss, enraptured by the lust-filled gaze as Franco watched you suck on Lupara. All his attention shifted to your clit, his tongue more nimble than anticipated. Pleasure coiled around nerve endings, lulling your guard even further from the defensiveness you should have kept up, your orgasm suddenly crashing over you with spasming walls. Your moan was muffled, saliva stringing from your tongue and Lupara once removed to allow for heaving breaths. Your hips rocked with his tongue, upper body hunching slightly as you rode out your orgasm. 

    His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you down against his tongue with a continued onslaught against your clit. Each swipe of his tongue had your body twitching, mind reeling and thighs squeezing together. Waves of pleasure washed over you, the bliss of your orgasm further deluding your mind with hushed whispers. Sensitivity crept through, overstimulation making your clit throb and pulling a harsh cry from your throat. 

    “That’s enough,” you tried pulling his hands off your hips to no avail, dropping Lupara amidst your orgasm, a blossoming heat spreading from your core, “Franco-” Your palms pressed against the floor, thighs twitching and spasming as he continued- blatantly ignoring your words once more. Heaving pants with strung out moans fell from your lips, a second orgasm quickly approaching. 

    Tears pricked at the corners of your vision, your uninjured hand clasping over your mouth in an attempt to muffle shaky moans. Your walls clenched, second orgasm tearing through you with searing pleasure- nerve endings alight with overstimulation. 

    “Stop- Oh- fuck,” curses slipped from your mouth, tears spilling over onto your cheeks with rocking hips, “Franco- Bambino, please-” Your thighs squeezed against his head, legs pressing into the floor with desperate attempts to free yourself from his grasp. His tongue continued moving against your folds, greedily sucking at your engorged sex with complete disregard of your pleas. 

    Sweat-laden clothes clung to your squirming form, coagulated blood caked under your nails leaving red streaks with each drag against the floor. You could feel the ghost of a smirk from Franco, finally inversing the dynamic to tip in his favor. 

    “Too much.. It hurts- Sto-” you rambled, teeth gritting together as he plucked another cry from you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, your hands once more clawing at his gloved ones to no avail. Your nerves were on fire, each curl of his tongue teetering you closer over the edge. A painful tightness wound itself in your core, heat spreading through trembling limbs. “No- I said..” Sputtered words were silenced once again by a drawn out moan, thoughts swirling in chaos under overstimulated touch.

    Desperate to get away from his touch you found yourself twisting your body, fingers alternating between prying at his bruising grip and raking your nails underneath his sleeves. He remained unbothered underneath you, forcing your hips to grind against the wet muscle. Pain blossomed under the pads of his gloved digits, bruises already decorating delicate flesh. Your whole body spasmed, thighs squeezing tight as a dark red flush spread across your face. Another wave of painful euphoria tore through you, muscles spasming as he forced your hips to rock against his tongue. 

    Tears blurred your vision, burning anger igniting under the onslaught of excruciating pleasure, “poorly trained… Do you have any redeeming qualities?” Blood-soaked strands of hair framed your face, tears dripping onto the floor. Venom dripped from the breathy words, only serving to motivate his disregard. Sharp canines dug into your lower lip, piercing the bruised flesh as a poor distraction.  

    The muscles in your legs quivered, walls spasming around the soaked muscle with another pained gasp. His tongue finally relented, hands sliding down your hips with a featherlight touch. Your body shook, weakness embedded in your tensed limbs. It took all your energy to lift yourself off him, multiple strings of saliva and slick breaking from around his mouth and your sex. Rage boiled in your blood, narrowed eyes glaring down from your unstable stance. 

    “You’re a fucking delight,” desire plagued his voice, the softer tone he once had now dangerously low. You grimaced, taking a few steps back from where he sat- leering at your exasperated form. His tongue flicked across his lips, wiping the rest of your slick against the fabric of his sleeve. 

    “Fuck off,” the harshness in your voice did little to deter him, a sobering realization that everything would play exactly how he wanted it, regardless of how he behaved or your reaction. Instinctively you reached for your ESOP, fingers clasping thin fabric with a silent curse. Each step back had you limping, pain cutting through lustful haze as the analgesic effect of your forgotten teammates heal lost its grip on your nerves. He was upon you within seconds, swiftly pinning you between himself and the glass tube that housed the Union Boss once more. 

    “Oh mommy.. Baby needs attention,” he purred against your flesh, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep inhale. The warm wetness of his tongue running along the side of your neck made you flinch, grimacing at his words. Shaking hands pressed against his shoulders, shoving to no avail as he pressed his body against yours. 

    The solid glass of the tube dug into your back, halting your attempts to get away from the man caging you. It took little effort for him to hoist you off your feet and press himself flush against your body. Shaking limbs, still desperately trying to recover, resigned to their fate- legs wrapping around his hips and hands clinging to his shoulders.

    “Fran-” his mouth enveloped yours once more, silencing any protests that you intended to voice. His tongue forced its way past flushed lips, the taste of your own fluids still clinging to the muscle. Each desperate attempt at shifting away from him only succeeded in exciting the prime asset more. How badly you wanted to bite into the invading appendage exploring your abused maw. 

    Fabric shifted, the cold air of the environment hitting your exposed chest with a shiver. Your shirt hung loosely, clinging to your arms and shoulders while offering no shielding of your exposed chest. You had nothing to lose, indulging in regrettable decisions that only tangled you further in the confines of your own mistakes. Rough teeth dug into his tongue, ripping into the tissue with sharp points and grinding molars. 

    His reaction was instant, whole body shuddering and yanking away from your mouth with bloodied saliva, “getting mouthy huh? You’re lucky that mouth of yours is worth something or I’d use those teeth for my Lupara.” Defiance only got you so far, any amount of space you seemingly made quickly encroached upon until completely stuck- caged against his body with hands held above your head to keep them out of his way.

    Teeth sunk into your neck, trailing over the multitude of bruises with bloody bites traveling down your collar, working dangerously close to your chest. Warmth enveloped your nipple, his mouth latching onto your chest. The delicate flesh was already overstimulated, nerves sensitive to any touch as he rolled the sensitive bud between teeth and tongue. 

    A sharp inhale was all you mustered, head leaning back against the glass. His hips ground against you, a prominent erection pressing against your oversensitive flesh. You weren’t sure what did it for him, between the ways he relished in tormenting your flesh and his own desire to be spoken to as if lesser. The reactions to your touch seemingly exacerbated by touch starved loneliness- something almost every reagent and experimental population seemed plagued by. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel pity.

    Incisors toyed with your nipple, whole body jolting from the sudden stimuli with a yelp. “Have you ever put your mouth on another living thing? Or just the mannequins and dead bodies you keep around for entertainment? I’m already painted with enough of your bites.” You pulled on your arms, spitting vitriol as he held fast to your wrists- locking your hands in place. The fact his other hand was still free to roam your flesh left you seething with anger. 

    “I’ve been patient long enough,” it was peaceful for but a moment, the lack of touch a welcome change to your buzzing nerves. Fabric shifted once more, what little space you were granted between your hips suddenly lost. Blood filled your mouth as you bit down on your tongue, wincing as he pushed himself inside your overstimulated cunt.  

    “I think I’d rather take the gun at this point, it’d be more of a mercy,” wounded pride and overstimulation mingled into a bitter front, your head turning away to avoid meeting his gaze. He was enjoying himself too much for your liking, each roll of his hips making your walls flutter around him. 

    Turning your head only opened up another opportunity, his face burying in the crook of your neck once more with heavy pants. Gloved digits rolled your nipple between thumb and forefinger with a roughness that had you flinching. The groan he let out tugged at the insatiable desire gnawing at the edges of your mind, the way he nestled himself against you making your clit throb. 

    Your lashes fluttered, lips slightly parted as he dragged along your walls, thrusting back into you fervidly. Unmistakable heat built in your core, your wounded ego desperately trying to ignore the burning heat spreading through your limbs. 

    Your arms unexpectedly fell limply at your sides, his hand abandoning your wrists in favor of forcing your head to turn. His mouth was on yours within seconds, invading past bruised and bloody lips- taking away one of the few ways you muffled your noises. Intermingled moans shared between locked lips as he ground his hips against you, not allowing even an iota of space between your bodies.  

    “I’m in hell.. I’m in fucking hell.. I can still fucking hear them..” The Union Boss practically sobbed, hands banging against the glass as he called out for someone- anyone- to put him out of his misery. 

    Practically lost in a haze of lust-addled delirium, it was easy to tune out the man complaining behind you. Quiet whimpers were easily overshadowed by breathy moans, each drag of his cock against your already overstimulated walls making your thighs quiver. Endorphins rushed through synapses, suffocating your ego with waves of resignation. You hadn’t even realized your arms wrapped around his neck. 

    You were the first to break the kiss, twisting your head at an uncomfortable angle to avoid getting caught once more in a much too long session. Your chest rose and fell with quick breaths, lips painted a dark red under the constant abuse they suffered. You didn’t want him to see your expression, wounded pride and squandered ego painted plain as day within swirls of conflicted bliss. Fragmented thoughts barely strung together, each touch against alighted nerve endings sending your mind reeling. 

    “Soft.. So warm and wet,” his mouth was back on your neck, offering no relief from overwhelming touch. His presence suffocated you. Your hands slipped past the collar of his shirt and jacket, nails digging red crescents into his upper back. Each drag of your nails left red beads forming in their wake, his cock twitching inside you. Drool dripped down your neck, electricity shooting through your body as a familiar wave of pleasure enveloped your mind. 

    His name slipped off your tongue, barely audible between intermingled moans and slick flesh. Pleasure wormed its way through your limbs, creeping along nerve endings with suffocating warmth. Your eyes screwed shut, nails raking over his shoulders. Each crashing wave of euphoria grew in intensity, overwhelming your senses with dull pain and burning heat. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes once more, your body pressing against the overwhelmingly cool glass compared to your heated flesh.

    His hips stuttered, hilting himself inside you with a loud groan. Relief washed over you the second his movements stilled- shivering as he spent himself inside you. Clarity crept through the cracks of swirling lust, the aches of your sore body settling with exhaustion weighing heavily on your limbs. 

    Tired eyes met Franco’s gaze, half-lidded with a ravenous glint- a deep-seated desire that swirled within his thoughts and left you with chills running down your body. Tearing your eyes away, exhaustion and adrenaline battled in your body, all senses screaming at the warning of danger. 

    “I don’t find women like this often, and I’m not letting go that easily-” gloved fingers grabbed your lower jaw, forcing you to meet his stare with progressively growing fear- “we’re not done here… Not yet..”  Your lips parted slightly as the blood drained from your features. “Nothing to say for yourself?” The smugness in his tone left a bitter taste in your mouth, the creeping grin that spread across his features only serving to increase your already pounding heartrate. 

    “I should’ve taken the death.. It’d be a mercy compared to the torment I’d experience being stuck this close to you for this long,” you spat, breathless, exhausted, and overstimulated. Matted hair clung to your scalp, skin uncomfortably caked in blood, sweat, and saliva. 

    You spit on his cheek, twisting free from the loose grip he had on your jaw. Your palms pressed firmly against his chest, shaking limbs barely having enough strength to do much but pull a giddy laugh from the prime asset. Gloved fingers swiped the bloody saliva from his face, running his tongue over the digits and drinking in your disgusted expression.

    Regret flooded your exhaustion-hazed brain, the way his body shuddered against yours an unspoken threat. The low purr he let out forcing sobering fear through the haze of your mind- “your teammate left you. Murkoff won’t help you, and your precious little rig is gone. To them, you’re a red smear across the meat plant floor, they won’t come looking for you until I come back.” His face moved closer to yours, panic rising in your throat with a swift slap that left your palm stinging. He barely flinched, the red mark forming on his cheek pulling another laugh from the prime asset, “Oh sugar, I’m going to climb right inside you…”