Crux

i.

It was the eyes that did it.

He was kind of old for her, but he had a stature that commanded attention and a grace that surprised her into studying him a little more closely. His eyes stunned her--causing a hot, liquid feeling that shot straight to her gut with as much punch as a fist. He was glancing at the apples, brushing his fingers over the glossy green surfaces so lightly that she wasn't even sure he was touching them so much as feeling the space around them. He felt her eyes upon him; it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for a man of his distinction, and his lips curved almost imperceptibly. And then his eyes flicked up to hers, open with curiosity as they met hers. They were a bottomless, unforgiving grey. Soft, but still sharp, with an obvious intelligence and a deep, deep sense of having experienced many things.

She blushed a deep pink and turned her head, feeling ever the gawking child. He smiled then, flashing something a little more dangerous as wicked thoughts teased his mind. He would love to lick that curve of her cheek, so brazenly colored with the blood rushing to her face.

He glanced around, but the evening was slipping away into night, and there was no one left patronizing the modest fruit stand.

"Miss," He said softly, his voice dark and smooth, expensive espresso softened with rich cream. She looked up, her eyes heavy lidded with embarrassment. Her lips were a shade darker than the blush of her cheeks.

"Yes.

Sir

." She cleared her throat, trying to retain her sense of salesmanship. She once again raised her eyes to meet his, trying to swallow down the look of innocuous little girl and create a façade of professionalism. He smiled again, showing his perfect teeth, and leaned casually forward, making it even harder for her to maintain her stone-faced calm.

His breath smells of temples

. The thought passed incredulously through her brain; it reminded her of incense, though that seemed impossible. The smell, as well as her thoughts on the subject drifted through her in the passing conversation, and it seemed to make her a bit light-headed, and somewhat sleepy.

"Could you run a delivery for me?" He seemed to lean ever closer.

"What do you need?" She asked as she picked up a clipboard. "I stay with the booth, but I could have Sta—"

"No," He interrupted her with the softest of negations. "I want

you

to deliver it."

"Um," She stuttered, and he slid something into her hand, his fingertips sliding higher and lingering on the thrumming blue lines of her wrist. She tore her eyes from his and looked down. Somehow he had removed his hand and she was left with a perfectly folded one hundred dollar bill sitting in her palm.

"You." He insisted.

"Okay," She said through numb lips, "But what do you want me to deliver?" For a hundred bucks, she could bend the rules a bit. Stacey wouldn't mind too much… especially of she never knew about it.

"I want you to go through these apples." He waved his over the piles upon piles of sweet fruit. "Pick out the twelve that are the most beautiful. Bring them to this address." He set a business card upon the bill, which was sitting flat out on her palm, which she had been too astounded to curl up into a fist. "After dark. Tomorrow night."

She walked up to the looming house, fussing with the apples to make them look absolutely perfect in the fading light. A giant black dog loped by the front door, and the girl paused on her trek up to the house, tense with alarm. The beast sniffed in her direction, and then darted past her, disappearing around the corner of the house.

The young girl took a deep breath and stepped up to the door, straightening her blouse and brushing a hand down the front of her skirt. A trembling hand reached up to ring the doorbell, and before her finger touched the shiny surface the door swung open. She started, pulling the basket of apples closer to her. The figure who had opened the door was a severe woman with a bun pulled so tight that it almost seemed to pull her skin taught.

"Come with me." The woman said in a clipped tone, turning on her heel and walking into the house. The girl scrambled to follow, nearly spilling the apples.

They made their way through the house, past darkened rooms filled with finery that almost made her jaw drop.

The entered what was obviously a dining area, immaculately decorated with expensive furniture, and rich, deep colors. The focal point was a long, ornate table that looked at if it could easily seat twenty. At the far end, in a luxuriantly upholstered chair, sat the man she had met the day before, sipping a dark liquid from a crystal champagne flute.

"Oh," He smiled. "You came." The pleasure in his voice was like caramel, dark and sweet. The girl flushed, delighted. "Rose, that is all." The severe woman nodded, slipping silently out of the room. The man stood, impeccably dressed in unrelieved black. "Please, you can just put the apples on the table." She set the basket down in the center of the table, and then turned awkwardly back towards him.

"Well," Her voice came out a squeak. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and began again. "Well, I suppose I should be going. Thank you for the business, please stop by again." She turned, and walked back towards the hall where she and the woman had entered. Stepping into the shadows, a hand on her shoulder spun her around.

She found her back flat against the wall, his lips on hers. Her body immediately responded to the assault, both fear and a sheer, primal lust warring inside her. His body was all hard planes against her soft curves. He brushed fingers across her breast. The soft caress was a contradiction of the onslaught of his mouth on hers. She was dizzy, thoughts and reason trying unsuccessfully to form in her head. He moved against her, and she could feel a hard bulge press against her crotch.

At the feel of his stiffness against her, panic won out, and she began to struggle against him, breaking the contact between their mouths by jerking her head to the side. He pressed closer, trapping her against the wall. His hand shot up and grabbed her throat, squeezing a warning. He pressed his mouth against her ear, shoving her cheek painfully against the wall.

"Hear me well, child." He hissed, his breath caressing her sensitive flesh. Tears rose to her eyes as her breath ran short. "This can go easy," He ran a hot tongue over her ear lobe and then nipped at it, causing her to jerk. "But I love it when you struggle." He laughed, a short cruel sound. "Either way, I'm having you." He released her throat, and she sunk, sliding down the wall, her legs suddenly boneless and unable to support her weight. "That's okay," He stated in a hushed tone. "I wanted you down there."

She kneeled shakily on the floor, her arms hanging loosely at her side. She couldn't see anything through her tear-blurred eyes in the shadows, but soon felt something against her lips. It was soft and velvety, probing gently for her to open her mouth.

"Come on honey, open up." He crooned, and remembering what he had said, feeling the tender flesh at her throat throb gently, she obediently parted her lips.

He thrust his cock into her mouth and moaned as she almost gagged. She grew still for a moment, and with a mutinous thought, started to lay her teeth into the sensitive flesh that he had forced into her mouth. Anticipating her thoughts, he wrapped a hand under her jaw and squeezed. An exquisite pain blazed through her delicate flesh, and she whimpered. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and her throat burned as she was unable to swallow.

He kept his hand lightly on her jaw, slowly pulling his dick out and thrusting it back in, her saliva making it slick after a few thrusts. Her soft, wet lips and small tongue against the head of his cock made the lust in him flare. He began to fuck her mouth more quickly, as tears ran down her face. As he could feel the orgasm rise, he considered coming in her mouth, all over her tongue. The thought almost sent him over the edge, and he pulled out, not wanting this to end so quickly.

He pulled her up gently by the grip he had on her jaw, and for a moment, the only sound in the hall was the sound of both of them breathing hard. She could make out his outline in the shadows of the hall, and wondered dimly why she had never noticed how large he was.

Suddenly, he grabbed her by the shirt and shoved her through the open door near them. It was completely dark in this room, and she sobbed as the door slammed shut. She held her breath, trying to hear whether or not the man had followed her into the room. She trembled in the dark, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Don't do that." The man hissed right next to her ear, and she jumped, letting out a little cry. The tears started to flow again, and she felt his arms snake around her middle from behind, pulling her into his chest. She could fell the hard length of him resting against the small of her back. He slowly started to unbutton her shirt, and she gasped and struggled, clawing at his hands to get him to stop. He spun her around and slapped her, hard. She reeled, the pain blooming into a white hot fire across her face.

He grabbed the shirt and pulled, buttons clattering on the floor as the shirt popped open. He ripped the material off of her and threw it aside, pleased to find that she wore no bra under the simple blouse. He cupped both breasts in his hands, feeling the puckered texture of her nipples. She moaned against the violation, shamed when her body responded to the touch.

He spun her again, running his finger tips down her spine. Her nipples hardened and she shivered, struggling not to cover herself with her arms.

"Come here," He grabbed the back of her neck and led her across the room, her eyes blind in the pitch dark. "Here," He placed her against something, her thighs bumping the edge of it. She placed her hands out and discovered it was a table, running her palms along the flat surface. He ran his hands along her ass, squeezing a little too hard and rubbing his cock teasingly against her.

"Bend over," He murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her sides, feeling the soft texture of her ribs, teasing her nipples with his fingertips. She tensed, unable to comply. He hissed, and grabbed her by the back of the neck and shoved her down. She cried out, her cheek mashed against the cool surface of the table.

He ran his hands slowly back down her form, teasing her bare flesh with his nails.

He found the hem of her skirt with his fingers, slowly, tortuously lifting it to expose more of her. When he had pulled it up to reveal all of her, he rubbed a hand lightly across her buttocks, feeling the silky skin. He grabbed the elastic of her underwear, pulling it slowly down.

"Spread your legs," He commanded in that same dark tone. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, and shuffled her feet as best she could, slowly spreading her legs. The blood rushed to her face as she exposed herself to him. He sighed, a small satisfied sound, and cupped the soft mound of flesh between her legs. "My, my," He whispered, finding her hot and wet. He teased a finger along the moist slit of the lips, and she couldn't help but shudder. "You've been enjoying this haven't you?" He slid a finger into her and she gasped, her hands clenching into fists.

He teased her with his fingers for a moment, stroking his own sex with his other hand. There was an aching sense of mixed relief and emptiness as he pulled his finger out, and she heard the silky shuffle of clothes being removed.

Without warning he was filling her, his substantial cock stretching her to the point of pain. He groaned with pleasure, and slapped her butt, hard enough to leave a hot, red hand mark. The muscles of her vagina clenched around his cock as he smacked her again, and he started to fuck her, mashing her breasts into the table with every thrust.

In spite of herself she could feel a climax rising, and her breathing came in gasps. He rode her hard, his fingers digging into her side and pulling at her. The sound of flesh slapping together was the only thing that could be heard.

She could feel the orgasm coming, and fought against it, but her body was a traitor. Roughly, he pulled out of her, picking her up and flipping her over, setting her on the edge of the table and spreading her legs until she thought she might split in half. He positioned himself in between her legs, and began the hard fucking again. She moaned and gasped, the orgasm ripping through her despite her every objection.

He could feel the muscles of her pussy begin to convulse, and he extended his fangs. At the height of her orgasm he bit into her neck, sucking out the sweet blood, now completely saturated with delicious hormones. Her eyes fluttered closed as she passed out, but he caught her limp form and continued to drink from her, only stopping when he felt her pulse slow to a dangerous level. He set her body back gently, making sure to cradle her head until it was lying safely on the table.

His dick was still inside her, begging for release. He came after only three pumps, squirting his sperm inside her lifeless form with a gasping breath.

Rose found the girl on the table where the master said she would be. She dressed the girl quickly in a simple white t-shirt and grey cotton shorts, moving the unconscious body around with the efficiency of someone who did this often.

She waved someone in and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. A large man entered the room, picked up the girl and they all exited the room wordlessly.

Rose marched in and Fortinbras stirred, watching as she silently directed the giant hulk of a man carrying the small girl to set her on the floor. The hulk lacked grace as he dumped her on the dark carpet, her unconscious limbs tumbling clumsily in a pile.

Rose flashed him a sour look as she noticed that he was awake and stalked out of the room, followed by the ape.

Fort climbed out of his bed and slowly approached the still form of the girl. Dropping to the floor on his hands and knees, he inhaled the scent of her as he drew near. He found himself curling his arms around her to pull her unconscious form closer to him. His eyes roamed curiously across her face, and then were drawn to a wound torn into her neck. The long gashes on her neck had already started healing and pinked into scars.

He sniffed around the wound, and his nose scrunched in distaste as he caught a hint of the stench of his master. Her smell, though, soon overpowered the taint of the master. Fort leaned over, almost touching his nose to her skin, and inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered closed as the scent of ripe apples saturated his senses, and his arms unconsciously curled tighter around her.

Her eyelids wavered, and she moaned. Fort jerked backwards, but she only nuzzled closer to him, the moan drifting into a sigh. He was completely still for a moment, but when she settled back into a steady breathing rhythm, he leaned in again for a closer inspection. This time, they were nose to nose, and he could smell the life on her breath, faint as it was. He exhaled with relief; he now knew she would live.

His eyes fell to her lips. They were slightly parted, and pale with lack of blood. Before he realized what he was doing, he pressed his own lips to hers, tasting the wild flavor of fear and his masters lips. He was torn between revulsion and the sharp pang of lust that struck him.

Just then, the girl stirred. He froze, but her lips softly responded, and he couldn't resist the ache that pulled at his loins. Her tiny tongue tasted like the apples that permeated her scent. He let loose a soft growl from the back of his throat, a rumbling that was initiated in a deep part of him that hadn't been awakened in ages, a primal place.

He pressed her slowly and gently back onto the soft carpet, never breaking contact between their lips, massaging the blood back into her pale lips. He shifted so his knees were placed on either side of her hips, and gingerly removed his arms out from around her. He leaned forward, bracing himself with one arm, his other hand wandering up to touch her face. Her cheeks were so soft. His fingers wandered about her face, a ghost's touch on her blue-veined eyelids.

She emerged out of the haze to find him on top of her, his lips on hers, his hands on her face. She didn't open her eyes; his fingers, feather light on her eyelids, were coaxing a shudder through her body. She wanted to panic, thinking that it was the monster wanting to suck on her neck again, but it didn't smell like him. This person had a scent of dirt, but the smell wasn't dirty. It was like wet earth, the air after a good, hard rain.

He was still kissing her, slowly and luxuriously, taking his time. She was kissing him back, seeking comfort, and tried to lift her arms, but found her muscles too weak.

She opened her eyes, trying to form words, and Fort stopped immediately, pulling back far enough for her to focus upon his face. His eyes were sharp, intelligent green, rimmed in heavy black lashes. His lips were parted, pink from kissing her. A tangled growth of coal black hair framed his face, contrasting skin that had obviously not seen the sun in quite some time.

She hissed out a breath, finding that her throat hurt too much to speak. As if he had read her mind, he lowered his head slowly, and started laying feather light kisses on the wound at her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed as the contact sent delicious sensations straight through her torso to tingle between her legs. She groaned, and tilted her head back as best she could with her aching muscles, allowing him better access to her neck. He responded to her groan of pleasure, trailing his fingers down to curve around the small breasts straining underneath her t-shirt. She subconsciously arched up to fill his hand with the soft flesh, her muscles protesting. He flicked his tongue at the small punctures, could taste her blood and his master's saliva, and was ashamed to feel his dick harden to its full length.

There were a thousand things she was begging him for in her mind, only conveyed verbally in the use of gasps and moans. She again tried to lift her arms, and though her fingers twitched, she was still useless to move them. He brushed the pad of his thumb across her nipple, and felt it tighten into a hard peak. His hands trailed down, finding the hem of her shirt and slipping his fingertips under it.

Fort pulled up the stark white cotton, revealing the supple skin of her stomach, the shallow ridges of her ribs, and then the soft swell of her breasts. He pulled his mouth back from her neck, and shifted down to wrap his lips around her nipple. She gasped, and he massaged the sensitive tip with his tongue. His hand trailed down yet again, but he didn't stop at her stomach. He pulled down on the elastic band of her shorts, slipping down the simple cotton garment easily. They had dressed her with nothing else underneath, and he found her hot and wet. He simply cupped her mound for a moment while he teased her breast with his mouth.

She still felt weak, but he was making her hot all over and it seemed all the blood left in her body had rushed to her loins, making her pussy ache again with remnants of the brutality of the monsters thrusts, but also with a longing for this man to take her. She wanted him inside her, to wash away the humiliation she felt.

He loved the feel of her, all the textures against his mouth and his fingers. He wanted to touch the most inner part of her. He gently spread her legs, opening her so that he might touch that place. She tried to help him, to tense her leg muscles and open wider for him, to indicate her willingness and invitation, but was still too weak to do anything more than make her toes tremble.