In the lawless wastelands inhabited by the dregs of a decadent civilization, the demoness, Zwi, keeps the peace. She’s just as hard as any of them, just as desperate to survive, and even more willing to fight for the little slice of heaven that came from a vial or between the sheets.
Where criminals reign, she has to be the biggest thug of them all to maintain even a modicum of control.
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There may not have been another bomb plot, but the angry masses were angrier and more rowdy by the time the next morning rolled around. Reality had set in and now the rush to find coin to pay for the increased price of rent was frazzling everyone.
Zwi found herself busting up more than a few disputes that very nearly threatened the bosses’ property, and even a few noisy gatherings that verged on becoming riotous before she put a stop to them.
It was, however, her job as the vampire overlord’s chosen enforcer, and the demoness was grateful for the lack of doldrums. Even if she tried to hide it behind her anger.
It was growing late, and things were finally settling down in the bar as the drunks became too drunk to cause much of a fuss, instead mostly moved onto sullen despair in the late hours of the evening.
She hated her job that day. No summons, no more drugs, no more anything to relax her after busting her metaphorical balls all day to make sure that her precious boss’s furniture didn’t get scraped.
That ineffectual son of a bitch.
She hated how quickly her thoughts turned from spitting in his face to riding out her anger on his body, but no matter. The day was over and she was in for a fitful sleep at best after this hell of a day.
She looked around at the bar in distaste, remembering the drunken scene the elf had repeated the night before. She felt the fool, letting everyone see her remove him to her room only to have him come back as bad tempered as ever. She should have shot him then and there for trying to embarrass her like that! She moved away from the bar, not wanting to deal with the drunkards and their swill.
Still, if there was going to be a need for order, it’d be there.
The demoness’ face contorted into annoyance as she pushed into the bar, looking around at the drunken, stupid faces with a sigh.
It was sullen and gloomy at that point in the evening, mostly the orcs and other beastly dregs with their heads over a grimy mug, staring into the last bit of booze they could afford, nursing it longingly.
The only real exception was the familiar look of the tall, somewhat lanky but composed Frellen. In his usual booth he sat against his seat in his usual long dark brown trench coat, leather top underneath strapped around him and up high over his greyish skin. He was idle, but for his long fingers playing with a deck of cards, shuffling them as he set about playing some lonesome, solitary game.
She hated the look of their sad little faces, for she knew the look of longing and wistfulness too well. She felt it striking her depths even now, knowing she had no idea when she’d be afforded more of her precious drugs. She didn’t even order up any swill, standing by the door on ‘patrol’ for a few moments, drinking everyone in instead, checking for potential threats.
Perhaps lone amongst the pre-existing clientele, Frellen carried his formal look, but with a slight tinge of a pleased expression. If the circumstances had negatively impacted him, it didn’t seem to show as he dealt up the cards neatly in front of himself.
Reluctantly, after looking around the room, she slipped across into the booth facing the dealer, her black eyes upon him.
“What’s your game?” she asked.
Paying her only the most brief and cursory of glances, from his own dark, misty eyes, he continued the careful motions of setting out the cards. “It’s called ‘Lonely Man’s Struggle’ where I picked it up. Or sometimes ‘the Fight Against Futility’. It does pass the time,” he said, a bit cheerier than usual.
“Sounds like a riot,” she said dryly, looking about the bar slowly before returning her eyes against him once more, “And how do you win?”
His thin, darkly grey lips press into a wry smile, “You don’t,” he said a bit dryly in return. Flashing his eyes up at her before continuing, “At least, you’re not supposed to be able to, except by a great fluke of luck. I was never one for luck, however.” He paused, giving a bit of a dry laugh before continuing, “It’s all about how you arrange the cards in descending order until—ideally—you reach a point where all of the cards are used up.”
Her white brows raise, giving him a slight nod at that, “I see. And when they’re all used up, you start again from the beginning?” she asked, placing her shotgun on the table and making herself at home, moving herself down in the bench. She wore the same outfit as the day before, pure silken black silhouetting her frame, her white hair held back in a bun, though she looked more tired today.
Nodding slowly he responded, “If you care to.”
Flicking his gaze up at her, he scrutinized her weary form. “A hard day for you, I’ve heard. The misfits and trouble makers giving you a rough time, I understand?”
“Do they ever give me an easy time?” she asked with a slight shrug of her shoulders, leaning back further in the bench, rolling her shoulders to work out the tension, “And you seem to be positively beaming, so I wonder if the two are connected somehow.”
Looking back down at his cards, the odd man grinned as he gives a deep chuckle. He was certainly unique in these parts, with features and aspects not like many others in the city. But his bone structure and tall stature managed to give him a handsome, albeit exotic, look.
“Only tangentially,” he said.
“I see,” she replied, her voice stern, though it was clear she wasn’t seeing the full picture or understand why he laughed. Her eyes narrowed for a brief flicker before she skipped them away. “You ever stop working?” she asks, looking over the bar with disdain.
Looking back to her, he pauses before shaking his head. “Not really. With a bit of training and effort, I find sleep to be rarely necessary, and over rated.” He smiled a bit wryly to her again before peering back at his game. “But to answer your question; the new rental increases were good for business.” Laughing softly he added, “I know. Doesn’t seem to make any sense, does it?”
She looked around the bar, then back to him, “Doesn’t make sense for the bar to be so packed, but people find the means for things that are important to them,” she said, her voice a bit cool, “I just hope it doesn’t mean they’re taking from their rent because that’d end badly for everyone if they refuse to pay. Though it’s not like we can’t find replacements for the rentals,” she said with a gruff roll of her eyes.
Nodding to her words slowly as he smiled, he replied, “Too true. All too true. Clever woman.” Tapping his index finger upon the deck of cards, he plucked one up and slid it into place quickly, without looking at it. “People are rarely rational about their purchases when they’re upset. I don’t suppose it will last. And perhaps in the long run it will hurt my own business should nothing else change… but for now, I reap some dividends.”
“Well, I’d drink to that, but I’m not in the mood for drinking orc piss and calling it wine this evening, so let’s just say… good on that, hm?” she watched the movements of his fingers, “So do you not rent, then? Just stay here all day like a vagrant?”
Laughing at her remark in good humour, he said, “Oh I rent.” He flashed a dark, clouded gaze across at her for a moment. “I’ve a place I rent above the bar.” He brushed his long, grey fingers towards a back doorway that must lead to stairs. “I am no vagrant, I assure you.”
“What do you use it for?” she asked, watching his fingers as they moved, “Storage?” her brows loft lightly at the question, “I likely wouldn’t bother with a room if I didn’t sleep, personally,” she said with a shrug, “Use the money for better things.”
“Ohhh,” he responded, smiling a little unevenly still, “despite my bluster, I do indeed sleep. Just not much. But when one operates a business he has need of certain facilities and such.” Tilting his head back, his thick hair rustled a bit as he looked at her quizzically, “Are you grilling me for information?”
“If I was, I’d ask better questions. And you’d be less aware of it,” she grinned, flashing him a sight of the sharpened incisors in her mouth as she laughed it off with a brief chortle. “You already called me clever, let’s not spoil the mood,” she said, rolling her shoulders again. “Plus,” she added, “your clients would be more willing to tell when faced along with me. You don’t bluster easily.”
He tipped his head to her appreciatively at the remark, “I have no quarrel with you, regardless,” he said, returning to his game of cards, deftly plucking them up and laying them out with nimble precision. “We share the same interests. Peace and security here is as good for me as it is for you. Seeing everything lit up and in chaos would only spoil things for us both.” Taking in a slow breath he added, “Few business persons can see so long term as that, sadly. Can’t look beyond today’s profits.”
She looked at him, focusing on the lines of his face, the depth of his eyes, the coils of his hair as she considered his words. She didn’t really do it for such reasons. But then, why did she do it? She watched his fingers as the played with the cards, then returning to his face. For a long moment she didn’t say anything, letting time stretch out, watching him and considering for a moment before her head shook gently, a tiny rock of it before she leans in, “Want to show me, then?”
He had no hair above his eyes where his brows should be, just a sort of dark teal marking in its place, and a singular brow raised at her words, curiously. “Show you what, exactly?” he asks in a quiet voice, bent over the table, looking down at his cards as before.
She shrugged, as though it really weren’t a big deal, “Your room. I made you an offer the other night, didn’t I? Well, something akin to an offer. And it’s not like I’m going to sleep tonight anyway,” she gives him a lippy grin that gave a bit of an edge to her rather businesslike words, the look giving them a playful suggestiveness.
Peering at her with his black-yet-milky-hazed eyes, he swept his gaze around the room at the lethargic denizens within. They were both figures of mention in this place, so he could never be sure how closely they were being watched.
Speaking to her in a quiet, but odd, tone, he said, “You look like you could use a trip to the washroom.” With a shrug of his head over his shoulders towards the door he earlier indicated led towards his room, he began to scoop up his cards. “It’s back there.” That was, of course, not his genuine meaning.
“I hate it when it’s that obvious,” she said with a defeated sigh, grabbing for her gun and bringing it to her side, looking toward the door, then back at him. “Hope your business goes alright tonight,” she wished him before taking a quick look around the room and, seeing no one of importance to her, walked toward the door with a purposeful stride, shoving it open and closed.
Deftly he scooped up and reassembled his deck of cards. Taking a moment after she had vanished through the door, he slid from his seat quietly, stalking off and vanishing through a different exit. It didn’t take long before he met her in the back stairwell, and then, with a tilt of his head, he pointed the way and began to lead her up to the floor above, taking her to his room.
With a cautious gaze along the long, wooden hallway, he fished out his key. Slipping it into the lock, he pulled a free playing card out of a pocket and slid it in between the crack of the door, performing an awkward motion before swinging the door open. The place inside was pitch black, though with her vision she could make out the neat, Spartan place. There were numerous crates and boxes, an occasional barrel, but little in the way of actual personal items in the immediate room visible to her.
She was respectful of his space and, truthfully, had little interest in rooting around in his room. She stuck behind him and let him lead the way, holding herself poised and quiet — just in case. Could never be too sure when heading into a strange man’s room, after all. Because of this she let him take the next few moments to set the pace, to let her know where they stood.
Quietly he shut the door again, flicking a few things into place, some hidden security locks that he must’ve activated with the card, it seemed. Turning to her, he seemed just as capable of seeing in the dark as she, for he didn’t move to activate any light source. He merely gave her a thin-lipped smile and swept past her. He was quite a tall man, not scrawny but a bit lanky it proved a she swept off his thick coat and lay the heavy thing across a crate. The leather top he wore beneath hugged his torso tightly. He vanished into the only open door, his bedroom, without a word, awaiting her in there at the bed as he began to loosen some straps on his collar. Aside from the bed and its sheets, there was only a small little makeshift bookcase with a few titles on the shelves. He did indeed seem to live very modestly.
Becoming more comfortable as he moved about silently, hidden in the dark, she placed her shotgun down on one of the crates, moving in after him. Her outfit wasn’t the most practical to get out of, she knew, but damned if it wasn’t comfortable and nice to feel against her skin. It clung to her, really, every curve of her body held taut in the supple leather. Her hands moved to her holster, then belt, unbuckling them in order as she placed it toward the side of the door. A small gun was still laced into her boot — final protection against him if he decided to try anything.
Turning around to face her as she entered, his leather top was undone, though far from open. The leather buckles hung open and the front dangled, but it seemed to wrap around him a bit, and only the front of his neck was shown through the high collar. In the dark room, the two could quite comfortably see one another, able to make out each other’s forms, and so he moved in closer to her, within a few inches of her body.
She really didn’t mind the silence. It was a refreshing change of pace from the quick-speaking elf. Besides, she couldn’t imagine her boss to be a big speaker. Standing tall in her leather armour from head to toe she looked up at him still, finding Frellen taller than her. She smiled at him in the dark, reaching her hand to the neck of her outfit and slowly tugging at the zipper. Black leather parted to show black flesh.
He was indeed quite quiet. Not even the sound of his breathing seemed to stir the stillness as he watched her unveil her ebon flesh. Though upon seeing it, he gave a lick of his dark tongue along his thin lips, moving a hand in to slip the pads of his fingers about her smooth body where she laid it bare to him. As he did this he bent in to kiss her neck.
Her neck tilted, her head moved away from the place his lips found her flesh, as she pulled open the zipper. Her top fell loose around her front, her flesh slightly slick from the heat of its confinement. Her firm flesh was taut against his fingers as she pressed herself into him without uttering a sound. If he was going to play quiet, well, so was she.
His long, slender fingers moved in across her stomach and upward, brushing beneath her breast as he began to kiss her neck, his tongue moist and just a tad cool in comparison to her heated flesh. Tonguing her there, he began to press himself in against her, his free hand moving into his own jacket and pulling it open to bare his own leanly muscled physique, broad shouldered and rippled with sinew.
She tries to suppress a sigh, the sound coming out only as a deep exhale as she slipped her shoulders and arms free of their confinement. She was still in her pants and boots as her hands reached to the back of his neck. Her nails drew him in as she encouraged his mouth to taste the saltiness of her flesh. She felt like a shade in the darkness, unseen in the night, though she figured he could see just as well as she, perhaps better. Truthfully she had wondered if there was a shared lineage somewhere between them, though she had written it off as inconsequential.
His cool, moist tongue explored her dark skin, and he began to rock his head in a smooth motion, some sharp lower teeth pricking her neck a little. Shrugging back his own shoulders, his hand left her for just a moment as he shed his top entirely. He pressed in against her with his bare chest. His skin was just the slightest bit cooler than her, the fine lines of his physique all intricately detailed. His skin felt almost ribbed, with a sort of smooth-coarseness. His hand came back to her, rising up to cup beneath a breast and squeeze the flesh tenderly.
She pressed up against his lightly chilled flesh and found that… things really were taking too long. Her hands moved against him, her motions hungry and wanting. Her fingers nimbly pushed down the zipper of her pants, unbuttoning the top, struggling to push them down over her firm bottom and strong thighs. She took her boots off with them as she fumbled slightly in the darkness.
Feeling her tug away to get her clothes off, he pulled back and reached down to his own trousers as well. The buckles and straps of his leather pants came away, undoing them as she did hers. The lines tracing his hipbones were well defined, and when the pants came down they revealed a lower body as fit and toned as the upper. Tightly wrapped within those pants was also his member, stiff and large, suitably long to his tall body. It had responded to her quite readily.
Her eyes rolled over him, lewdly sizing him up as she inwardly nodded to herself, freeing herself of the last of the leathers. She took a moment, trying for force herself to enjoy it, before she lunged her mouth against him roughly.
He wasn’t the broadest or strongest of men, but his height and lean muscle made up for what he lacked in those departments. And his eagerness and desire for her made up for any shortcomings he might’ve had, as he met her lunge and wrapped an arm around her, the muscle of his bicep flexing into her back as he drew her in and delved his tongue into her mouth. His bed was by no means huge, but it would do for them both easily, and he tried to angle her toward it.
She didn’t really need his help to guide her there, but she eagerly let him tilt her toward the bed, her heated breath against his chilled breath, her body abuzz with the light tingles of pleasure and excitement, even though they were dimmed without the aid of her handy drugs. Still, she enjoyed sex almost as much as drugs, and her movements reflected this; grabby hands, passionate embraces, violent holds.
He pushed her to the bed, slipping down atop her in an almost slithery fashion, resting over her body. Their mouths met excitedly, again and again, the hard throb of his cock pressed down against her. His excitement was growing, and he seemed to finally be breaking the silence with his heavy breaths and soft little groans. He began to nudge her legs apart with one knee as his tongue pushed between two sharp upturned fangs in his own mouth, and on into hers.
She was grateful that she didn’t need to tell him what to do, or guide him in any manner, feeling his own flesh press against hers, craving the same thing she was. It let her relax even further into his bed, her legs spreading, resting above his ribcage and holding onto him. Her wet cunt dragged lightly against his lower stomach, giving him a teasing grind.
That teasing grind was the last bit of prodding he seemed to need. After that, he lowered himself down so that the underside of his cock was dragging down along her slick cunny, then rubbing into it, moistening himself up as he moved from her mouth to nip at her ear, putting lusty breathy sounds direct to her as he slid his member to her, nudging it inside.
She tilted her head to the side at the bite, giving him access to her ear as she let out a breathy sort of cry, aroused pain penetrating the air before she sucked it back.
She hissed with pleasure, the rhythm of her hips never stopping as she felt his hardness between her slick lips, rubbing against her sensitive clit and then feeling him press onwards, delving into her body.
“Will anyone hear?” she asked.
Pushing himself into her fully, sinking the wholeness of his long cock up into her, he spoke a bit raspily into her ear, “No… let it all out.”
Eagerly, he took hold of the underside of her thigh, grasping it firmly before tugging back his hips. He yanked his shaft firmly out of her before shoving back in with the first resounding slap of the rutting. His other hand felt her softer curves, squeezing here, there.
She tilted her hips so that each tug of his cock would rub against her clit. Loud moans and pants of excitement cascaded into the room, her body moving to aid his hand in its exploration of her, the chill of his body sending thrills of delight through her. Her skin bumped lightly, her nipples and areolas hardened against his touch.
His touch, like the rest of him, was a strange mix of coarse and smooth, and he brought his hand all over her chest and body, feeling out her breasts, squeezing and teasing her areolas and nipples. No lack of sleep impeded his motions, either on some natural high or the induced kind from his own craft, he rode atop her, thrusting and bucking his hips with quick motions, his pale-grey flesh slapping against her ebon beauty as he panted into her flesh and ear heavily.
“You feel as exquisite as you look,” he groaned, which, though complementary, sounded to her more like statement of fact than a true intention to bolster her ego or heighten the moment.
Her voice trailed higher, then into a murmured low, panting and screaming in her excitement and aroused state. She was clearly, if nothing else, enjoying it. A great deal, truly. His flesh titillated her in a manner that few had been able to, and the sincerity she felt in his compliment really didn’t hurt. Her black eyes tilted open and back as her grinding became more heated against his cock, her pelvis pressuring his cock into her.
With the grinding she gave in return he groaned lewdly, though didn’t allow the act to impede his motions. His hand tugged up at her thigh further, pressing it back against her and his side, allowing him to thrust into her ebon body with increased ease and strength. He gave a hiss of delight as he felt her out, his senses always seeming too acute from whatever had him strung out. Nipping at her neck again with his sharp lower fangs, he hissed with pleasure, throbbing inside her wildly as he felt his satisfaction mount.
She was flexible, bending easily to his positioning of her legs, folding against him as she felt herself throb with her own delight. His enthusiasm, quiet, mature, pure – it all served to relax her, allow her to find her own pleasure against his body as she let out loud cries of varying degrees of pleasure, her voice ebbing and waning before picking up momentum once more.
Clenching his hands around her thigh and breast, he thrust himself into her with an increasing intensity and roughness. He gasped between his pants and moans as he roughly hewed her cunt asunder with his stiff blows.
Wetly their two contrasted forms slapped together through to the very end, when finally the throbbing of his shaft became the pulse of his release, thick gouts of seed pouring into her as he gave a strained cry of pleasure, his thrusts striking deep as he came deep within.
Her body thrust back and folded as she was, his orgasm hit her innermost depths, her eyes flicked back as she felt the telltale signs of his release, her own orgasm little more than a pulsing memory at that point, the feeling had thrust through her quickly and left her gasping for air before receding to that dull ache of wanting. It was always harder for her to orgasm after using the drugs too much and she cursed her short sightedness, even as she enjoyed the pulse she still felt.
The thrusts didn’t stop all at once, but became a slow, languid tempo, slowly building down to a casual humping of her slick, cum-sodden cunt. This continued well past the point when the last of his seed was spilt and he shook his head, giving a sigh of contentment and reaching his hand up from her thigh to rustle it through his thick, tendrils of hair. His own orgasm did seem to hit him quite hard and long, if not her.
She caught her breath below him, taking her time as he took his, tiny sighs of lingering pleasure passing her lips as she felt her slick body stick against him, her muscles beginning to tense in the awkward position, though she made no sound of displeasure. After long moments had passed, she brought her hands to his arms, squeezing him before trying to roll out from under him.
With the squeeze, he rolled from her as she did from him, the two uncoupling in a slick little mess as he rested back on his elbows on the mattress, lounging upon his own bed with one knee raised, the other draped over the side. He watched her through lazy, narrow slits
She did her best not to dribble on his bed as she pulled from him, her face turning towards him, “You have a towel or something?” she asked hoarsely.
Taking a moment to register the question — his buzzed mind at last calming a bit it seemed — he nodded, running his fingers through his thick, bristly hair again.
“Sure,” he said. Slipping up with a certain eerie grace, he vanished out of the room before coming back with a small hand towel, which he offered to her. “Don’t worry. I’ll make the staff send me new ones.”
She snorted a bit at his comment, unsure if she should take him seriously or not. It was unlikely the staff tended to anything of the sort. Or that there was a staff of any real nature.
“Thanks,” she said. She reached out a hand to take it, tilting her body back before cupping it between her legs, “It’s like a memento,” she said, giving him a cocky grin.
Giving a wry smile before he casually turned away, adjusting something at his wrist out of her sight, he replied, “I’ll treasure it always.”
She lets out a light cackle, moving off the bed, rubbing herself free of his telltale drip.
“Think anyone’ll notice how long I’ve been using the bathroom, then? They might question my ability to enforce if they think it takes me an hour to get out of the suit to pee.” She moved to her clothes, letting the cloth drop as she pulled up her pants.
Smirking, he turned back around, looking to her as he bent down and picked up his own pants, beginning to dress the same as her.
“Just tell them it’s ‘ladies troubles’. Always works on the faint-of-heart males.” If it bothered him that she discarded the soiled towel on the floor so carelessly, he didn’t show it.
“There are faint-of-heart males in this town?” she asked as she pulled on her top, zipping it up before moving to her boots. Her bunned hair was a lot messier than when she had arrived, though really, she looked quite a lot more chipper, if not a bit tired.
“Well,” he said, grinning a bit as he tugged his own pants into place, “let’s say thin skinned. Even orcs can have terribly thin skin at times.” He seemed as chipper as ever, a bit more relaxed after their romp as he strode out into the main room, still shirtless, and seemingly not intending to rectify it.
Moving to her belt and holster, she fastened herself in, moving to take her shotgun off the crate she had left it on, then looked towards the door. Thank fuck he didn’t want to cuddle. Still, though, this wasn’t the most comfortable thing.
“I’ll see you around,” she said with a shrug of dismissal. It’s not like she wanted to be cold; she would see him around. Likely soon. But she wasn’t a big ‘good bye’ person. She moved to the door, then looked at him, “I guess you have to let me out?”
Moving to the door to do just that, he nodded, staying out of sight as he undid the intricate series of locks readies to pull the door open for her.
“I’m sure you shall. We’re both rather consistent with our livelihoods requiring it,” he replied. He stood ready, swinging open the door for her immediately.
She gave him a glance and a nod, trying to think of something witty or, at the very least, not terribly uncomfortable to say but, finding nothing she instead headed off.
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