Chronicle:Prey and Predator/4

Alaþius' car rolled up into a prearranged safehouse just off the Verdant Sea. He wasn't here to sightsee though.

He hefted the wooden crate in his backseat into the safehouse. Key in, padlock out, latch unlatched.

"Alright, it's unboxing time."

Lid up, he took a long look at the person within. She was clearly awake, letting out unintelligible mewls as the darkness within the crate was replaced by the dimmed lights of the room. He thought it adorable, especially considering her usual character. Sweat soaked the bottom of the crate, as did it her skin.

"You little devil. You've been the one on top every single time, how does it feel to be the one getting trampled for once?"

It was a rhetorical question. He lifted her from the box, and chucked her straight onto the bed. She rolled around powerlessly a few times, before settling on a soft spot on the pillows. A clap sounded out.

"Get ready, Ren. We're starting."

Alaþius climbed on, settling in a comfortable spot just next to her. He jabbed into her sides, receiving a surprised yelp and muffled curses he thought he could recognize. That was simply the starter.

His fingers played at her frame, tips softly tracing along her curves - her toned belly, up the sides of her ribs, then along her shoulders and neck. Small gasps escaping from behind the tape to his occasional squeezes. Minute by mounting minute, he gradually pulled her in, until he was spooning her from behind and his chin rested on her shoulder. He leaned in close, his warm breath licking at her bare skin. Tingles travelled down her spine.

He whispered niceties into her ear. Compliments, to pad what was to come. He reminded her of all the times the two had been together in the past.

Then, he reminded her all the times she'd been on top, and everything she's done to him in that position.

Like those countless times she tried to have a "wrestling match" with him. All the prodding, riding, and cavorting he half-regretted agreeing to every single time, after the fact.

"...it's time I get my revenge, yes?"

He didn't wait for a response, not that she could give any. He slid an arm around her and pulled her tight, reaching below her waist with the other.

She was clearly unaccustomed to the sensation, to being bundled up to such an extent that she couldn't even move her fingers, to being penetrated while in such a vulnerable position. Her feet futilely wiggled about, her breath hitching as her lower half stiffened and released, then cycled back to the beginning to continue it all again. She tried to choke them down, but she let out the sporadic helpless whimper and moan.

"Aw, are you crying? I won't be gentle with you even if you do~"

Alaþius gripped firmly onto Ren's legs, using them as a pivot as he launched a ferocious attack between her loins. She yelped aloud at first, until she seemed to find her cadence between each motion, following along, responding accordingly to each of his pulls and thrusts - until they both reached a climax, much like all those times before. The difference now, though, was that he was on top, completely uncontested.

If she wasn't bundled up, he was certain that he'd lose even if there was three of him. If he'd only tied her arms and legs as normal, he was sure that it still wouldn't be enough for him to subdue her. There was the non-zero chance that she'd be able to launch him into the wall in her struggles even while she was bundled up like a caterpillar. He hasn't experienced it firsthand yet, and he intended to keep it that way.

As she was? She couldn't even exert herself, her entire body immobilized barring the barest of motions in her feet. It was only like this that he could wield absolute control over her body.

It was an incredibly dirty way to do it, but that was in his job description, and it appeared Ren was enjoying herself with the saccharine sweat exuding from her skin.

He leaned aside for a moment, allowing his partner to indulge in the climactic moment before he reached for a pair of bandage scissors. He cautiously snipped apart all the tape bindings around her body, peeling them off in deliberate motions to leave no marks. She was cooperative, though when the tape over her eyes went off, the damp cotton attached to them indicated the panic and desperation that wracked her along the journey.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I couldn't resist getting back at you for all those times."

Alaþius welcomed Ren between his arms, giving a soft tap on her forehead with his lips. He tidied the stray strands of her hair in the meantime.

"It's no problem..."

Ren reached around his waist in a tight hug. She was still as strong as ever, but as she embraced him and pressed her head into his chest, she felt like a demure animal laying in his lap. There was a long moment between the two before he broke the silence.

"I've dealt with everything for you. To the outside world, you're already dead."

"Then... I guess I can't show my face around anymore."

"You could change up your appearance. Ten million's more than enough for some serious reconstruction. Get a new identity where nobody'll know who you were."

"...nah. This is alright. I want to see my own face when I look into the mirror."

"Come with me then. I've bought a big plot down south in Hyperaustrea, a cottage. We can raise some animals, some pets, whatever you want."

"Mm. Alright."

"Aren't you angry?"

"Angry about what?"

Ren raised her head to stare at Alaþius. The trails from the corners of her eyes were still damp. She seemed a little indignant, but a little embarrassed as well.

"I've given some thought about all the times you've been at the bottom, but eh... I couldn't resist the opportunity every time it appeared. After this, if you'd like, you can do something like this again... push me around."

"You were terrified just then, weren't you?"

"Terrified... a little. I've never experienced anything like this before - unable to resist, the helplessness of leaving my own life in somebody else's hands. If it's you though... it feels quite nice."

"Heh. You're a good girl."

He reached to pet at her hair again, but found his wrists stuck, as if clamped between a pair of pliers. Inch by inch, the woman that had laid in his lap like a demure animal now rose until she towered over him, eyes gleaming with a predator's hunger. The hot breath now escaping her mouth flooded his nostrils. It seemed that saliva was going to drop on his face at any moment.

"I've let you have so much fun with me, it's my turn now!"

"Ahah- no!"

The soundproofing of the safehouse was superb. No one would hear Alaþius' screams for the next days.

His life as a hitman has ended now, but a new war had only just begun.