So, this is going to be a Mac two- part "one-shot". It's for the wonderful Alva Starr. She sent me a request that I just couldn't refuse. I know she told me to take my time, but inspiration struck and I decided this one should be up for Whiskey Wednesday. Look for part two next Wednesday, if all goes well.
Prompt Summary(for this chapter):
Female OC fights off a rapist with a wooden board full of nails. The rapist is brutally murdered and Mac witnesses the whole thing and is incredibly turned on.
I'm not sure if it was supposed to be pure PWP or not, but I added some plot so it's a bit lengthy. I decided to work in the smut for everyone's general enjoyment and of course a few extra twists and turns. I kind of went a little bit overboard. This one is unlike most of my Mac fiction and this was definitely a bit of a challenge. I hope I did you proud, Alva!
Shout out to Annabeth who reads all my shit and for helping me pick the name!
Reviews and alerts are greatly appreciated. Encouragement makes the updates quicker! ;)
Warning: As with all of my Mac fics, this isn't for the faint of heart. This chapter has graphic rape and murder sequences, foul language, and general Mac-ness. You have been warned.
Aberdeen Strickland was definitely lost. Stan had said Cainville was a straight shot from the highway, but he never mentioned the road was barren and completely abandoned. Each rock formation and canyon began to look the same to her and she was debating on turning around and heading back to L.A.
When her cousin, Stan, had called her about a job, she wasn't sure what she was getting into. Stan had definitely always been a black sheep in their family, but that was okay because she was also in the same boat. They kind of gravitated towards each other. She jumped at the opportunity to even just see her cousin, even if he was involved in some shady things. She imagined his job as a mechanic was a rouse for something darker and seedy, but she was no stranger to shady behavior and could overlook that minor detail.
To be honest, she needed a break from L.A. This trip came at a perfect time.
She came upon a road sign, finally, the first one for miles. It read: "Cainville, UT: Next Exit."
"Finally." She muttered to herself.
The exit was just beyond the sign. She took the turn and almost immediately she saw a small complex in the middle of nowhere. She spotted a large white sign. "The Luna Mesa Oasis." In that spot stood a motel, a gas station, what looked like a bar called the Luna Mesa, and that tiny garage she had driven all this way for.
She parked her lime green Honda Accord just outside of the door. The garage door to the shop was opened and she could see heads turning when she pulled up. Her car was a bit of a showstopper. Some of her best work, by far. Not only was it lime green, but the intricate black marquees on the sides and hood were rather breathtaking.
She was used to getting gawked at, not only for her vehicle, but for her own looks as well. She was what most people would call beautiful. She had vibrant blue eyes and deep auburn hair that reached almost her mid back. Her body was taught and lean, but with feminine curves. She had a nice hour glass figure. She used that to her advantage, wearing clothing that left little to the imagination. She liked to show off her curves and her body art. Her milky white skin was peppered with tattoos; mostly large pieces on her shoulder, thigh, and ribcage. She also had smaller things like words in cursive in more deceptive places like her fingers, or in white ink along her arms.
Today she had chosen a simple white crop top and high wasted denim shorts. As she stepped out of the car, she simply straightened her clothing, slipping on her Doc Martens and bending in half to tie them. She hated driving in shoes, especially for long distances.
She snapped back to her full stance and noticed a set of piercing blue eyes staring at her from by the office in the garage. Her eyes got big as she took him in; dingy light brown hair, chiseled cheek bones, a smattering of chin scruff, and those eyes. There was no denying he had rugged good looks.
Stan popped up beside him and waved her in. She took a deep breath and shut the door of her car, walking inside the garage and right up to this tall, dark stranger.
"Cuz!" Stan exclaimed, embracing the girl.
"Long time no see, huh?" She laughed.
She caught the handsome stranger staring at her chest as she pulled away from her cousin. She gave him a cautionary glare but he never faltered, merely licking his lower lip and raising his brow at the delicious creature before him.
"Aw, shit. Abs, this is Mac. He kind of runs things around here. Mac, this is my cousin."
"Strickland." She said, cutting him completely off. "You can call me Strickland."
Stan gave her a quizzical look, but quickly brushed it off.
"Ye ain't tell me she was such a hot piece o' tail." Mac drawled. "Make me wanna have a taste." His eyes devoured her, skimming all the lines and curves. Aberdeen had caught a glimpse of the scabs along his throat as she was ignoring his pensive stare. She also hadn't missed the rotting teeth in his psychotic smile.
"Come on, Mac. She's family." Stan tried to laugh off the obvious advance. "She's had a tough week. Her boyfriend left her."
"Uh, no. Let's get something straight, here. I left that cheating asshole. Not the other way around!" Aberdeen snarled defensively.
"Ye come out here all alone then, sweetheart?" Mac's ears seemed to perk up at this news.
"Where's this wreck of car you needed me to work on?" Aberdeen said, trying to change the subject.
"Oh, yeah." Stan said. "That would be it over there." He pointed to the lift farthest from them. On it, sitting about three feet off the ground, was a 2000 Dodge Viper. The car appeared to have once been red, but it was hard to tell. It had definitely seen better days. "We found it on the side of the highway a few weeks ago, completely abandoned. Wasn't nothin' wrong with it. We decided to restore it."
"All it really needs is a new coat o' paint. Maybe a nice buffin'." Mac mused, running his forefinger over his scruffy chin. "Yew kin do that, darlin'?" The way he said it gave Aberdeen the chills, but she tried to fight it.
"I can do whatever you need me to do." She smirked at her obvious innuendo.
"She's the best." Stan beamed.
"S'not stolen, is it?" She asked, walking over to the tiny sports car.
"Naw. People who owned it won't be needin' it." Mac almost laughed. Aberdeen's chills didn't go away.
She approached the car and ran her hands over the scuffed up paint job. "What were we thinkin'?"
"Somethin' simple. Maybe black or blue."
"Cyan." She said simply.
"The fuck's that?" Mac muttered.
"I don't do simple. I do custom." She crossed her arms under her chest and face him. "Cyan is a very unique blue. It looks best on sports cars."
"Whatever." He snarled. "Just make it look nice."
"We have a guy interested in the car already, but it needs to be presentable. Make it pretty. We sell it, you get a cut." Stan explained further, trying to cut the sexual tension in the room.
"A third?" She asked, amusingly.
Mac scoffed at the idea. "Ye'll get paid alright. Ain't just gonna be a third, neither."
"The way I see it, you boys didn't put in any work. You call me all the way out here to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to paint this piece of trash, I want an equal cut of the profit." She bit her lip. "What happens if no one buys it?"
"Whatcha wan'?" Mac sneered, obviously bristling.
"I want $20 an hour for the labor. Then a third once it sells. It's only fair."
"Done." Mac growled. He liked her moxy. He also realized that he had to agree to the terms or else she'd walk. He didn't want her going anywhere.
Aberdeen was surprised that Mac had given in so easily. She was thinking her powers of persuasion were invincible when he continued. "We still makin' deals?" He suggestively raised his eyebrows and bit his lower lip.
"I got what I want." She purred, tying her hair up into a high bun. "Let's get started."
Stan dissappeard into a nearby shelving unit and returned with a dark navy colored coverall. "Here." He said, handing the garment to his cousin. "We've got work to do, anyway. Come'on Mac."
Mac grunted in response, giving her one last snide glance before following Stan to the other side of the garage. His eyes didn't leave Aberdeen's body as she slipped into the coveralls, tying the arms around her waist instead of wearing them the traditional way. She walked back over to her car, popping the trunk and pulling out a large, black men's shirt. It was covered in paint splatters. She tugged it on over her crop top. She then pulled out a large case and drug it back to the Viper in the garage.
She had her work cut out for her.
It took most of the afternoon to get the car prepped for paint. She took off all the chrome and lights, then sanded the old paint off and washed off all of the residue before she covered the glass and taped off the edges.
Mac claimed he had somewhere to go just before the sun set and left her and Stan to finish cleaning up and shutting the garage down.
She stripped off her old shirt and the coveralls as her cousin tidied up. "Is he always so…" She stopped to think of an adjective, but she couldn't.
"Just stay away from him." Stan said in a very serious tone. "Wanna go get a drink?"
"Sounds perfect."
They locked the garage and crossed the lot, lumbering towards the bar at the center of it all.
"Luna Mesa?"
"Place like the moon."
She gave one last glance around at the scenery before they entered the bat wing doors of the establishment. "You can say that shit again."
"Still drink whiskey?" Stan asked.
"I can still drink you on your ass, if that's what your asking."
"Walter!" He hollered. A older man, obviously of Spanish descent came forward and gave the man a good once over before replying. "Walt, this is my baby cousin –"
"Strickland." She butted in again.
"Don' look much like a baby." The man said, giving her a leering glance. "Pretty girl, gracing my presence. What can I get you?"
"Jameson, straight and neat."
"Have a seat." He nodded at her. She and her male counterpart sat at the bar, taking stools closest to the door.
Seconds later, drinks appeared.
By two in the morning, the cousins were both completely shit-faced. It was closing time and suddenly Aberdeen realized she had no where to stay.
"Motel is $30 a night." Walter told her. "S'not much, but it's clean."
"Sounds good to me." She smiled. Her stance was wavering and she started to lean to the left. She grabbed the bar and pulled herself forward, leaning against the oak counter for support.
"Stay as long as you want. Pay me when you leave." Walter handed her a tiny key with the number 5 on the key ring.
"Thanks." She smiled at the kind gesture.
"Need me to walk ye?" Stan asked.
"It's like five feet away." She laughed.
"And you're not exactly walking straight." He ushered her out the door and they stopped somewhere near his own vehicle. "You know, you could stay with me."
"I'm a big girl, Stanny. I can handle myself." She leaned over and playfully punched his shoulder.
"S'not safe out here, s'all."
"What's that mean?"
"Nasty things happen out in them canyons." He frowned. "Look, forget I said anything. Just be careful." He opened the door and got in the driver's seat.
"Will do. If I don't show up by noon tomorrow, send someone out to look for me." Preferably Mac.
"Sleep tight." He tried to sound optimistic. He twisted the key in the ignition and watched as she crossed the pavement before pulling away.
The brake lights were small red dots in the distance when Aberdeen made it to the door marked '5'. The key was in the lock when she realized she forgot her clothes and things in her car which was still at the garage. "Fuckin' hell." She muttered, removing the key and trudging across the lot again.
She finally made it to the Honda and popped the truck. The first thing to go were her shoes. She placed them in the trunk and rummaged for her duffel bag. As she leaned into the trunk, a pair of strong, rough hands grasped her hips and something hard poked into the small of her back. Without thinking, she rolled her hips backwards into the hard bulge of the man's pants. She had hoped it was Mac. The sweltering between her thighs was telling her she needed hot, rough sex to help her forget, to heal from her rough breakup. Her captor groaned and his voice wasn't raspy and husky, nor did it drip of sex. It was firm and wasn't anyone she knew.
She spun in his hands to look at him. He was a tall, dark man with a full beard. He was a little heavy set. She imagined her was handsome once, before he grew the beard and started doing drugs. She noted the scars along his bare arms and neck. The primal aggression and look of his teeth told her that he and Mac shared similar interests – her included. He pushed her ass down, into the trunk of her own car. "Been watchin' you for awhile now, girl. Pretty young thing. Out here all alone?"
"Get the fuck away from me!" She squealed, kicking at him with the thick heels of her Martens. He caught her foot and laughed at her fowled attempt. He drew her foot closer and kissed her bare ankle, trailing his hands down the expanse of her bare legs and into her inner thighs. She slapped his hand and he released her legs enough for her to kick him in the nose, hard.
"Fuckin' cunt!" He growled, grabbing the now broken nose.
Will was late. Mac hated to be left waiting. He was about to go looking for that big, dumb lumberjack when he heard the ruckus from the side of the garage. He heard her voice crying out and his blood boiled. He jumped from his truck and slammed the door behind him.
Aberdeen jumped out of the trunk as the man groaned in pain, leaning in half and holding his nose. In her drunken haze, she didn't think, she just ran. She crossed the corner of the garage and spotted a large pile of debris; old car parts and discarded materials. She heard him close behind her so she jetted towards the pile. Strong fingers grasped her ankle and pulled her backwards. She fell flat on her face. She rolled over onto her back quickly to face her aggressor. "Fuckin' cock tease! Dressin' like that and then gettin' all defensive when somebody takes ye up on the offer. I'll show ye." He grasped the fly of his jeans and tugged the zipper down.
This was about to happen. She was powerless to stop it.
Mac quickly and quietly slipped around the backside of the garage, trying to get the one-up on whoever was terrorizing his new girl. She didn't know it yet, but soon enough, she would be his. No one touches Mac's things. He made it to the back corner of the building where they threw the old car skeletons when he finally spotted her. She was whimpering and that fucking tweaker, Will, was leaning over her, his jeans around his knees and his dick flopping in the wind. She was putting up a good fight as he tried to rip off her clothes. Mac pulled his hunting knife out, clutching it tightly in his right hand when he stopped.
Nothing she was doing was working. She twisted from his grip. She had tried to kick and punch her way free. He was just too strong. He had at least 100 pounds on her, easily. His hand slipped into the open fly of her jean shorts and grazed her wet panties. The man smirked to himself and pushed her panties aside, skimming the length of her slit, finding her soaking wet. His thick digit circled her clit and he laughed out loud to himself when he felt the hard metal barbell there. "Yeah, you love this kinda shit, girl, don't ye?"
His finger dipped into her and she panicked. She rolled her head back, looking for anything she could find. Her bold blue eyes zeroed in on piece of a two by two, just within reach. She struggled away, backwards, but the man grabbed her hip, stationing her in place. She managed to grab the end of the board. Fueled by adrenaline and fear, she slammed the end of the lumber into the man's temple.
She had meant to stun him, maybe knock him unconscious. She didn't even notice the nails in the end of the board until they punctured the man's temple. Blood poured from his mouth, his eyes, the side of his head. It felt like eternity as she stared into his dead eyes and watched the life leave his body. He tumbled forward his blood spilled along her bare stomach and soaked the white fabric of her tee shirt. His weight knocked the wind out of her and she struggled to get free, wriggling and screaming in the process.
Mac had never seen anything so erotic in his life. Admittedly, he had been hard since he heard her scream, but sex took a backseat to his other ideas when he registered she wasn't screaming because of him. He never imagined walking up on her and seeing her murder one of his least favorite people in cold blood. He was overwhelmed with feelings of admiration and desperation. He watched her wiggle her way out from underneath Will's lifeless body and he groaned in frustration. He ran back to his truck and decided to play it cool.
She slowly made her way back to her car. Sure, she was drunk and in shock, but the rational side of her brain was fighting the alcohol to temporarily sober her into reality. She needed to get rid of the body and her bloody clothes and quickly. She had a few good hours before sunrise. She had to make them count.
The bright flood lights stunned her. She froze in place, completely terrified until the truck pulled up alongside her and she spotted the man in the front seat. "The hell happened to you, sweetheart?" Mac's husky, dark voice calmed her.
"Long story." She managed, the words barely audible.
He looked over her shoulder, his flood lights blaring on the dead body, still collapsed in a heap on the ground and in the open. "I see." He smirked, running his finger over his gums and opening the door of his truck. He ran his finger through the wet, warm blood covering her bare mid-drift and slipped his fingers into the open fly of her tight shorts, buttoning them and fixing the zipper for her. "Get in the truck."
"What are you-"
He silenced her with an overbearing kiss, claiming her mouth for his own and overwhelming her senses. "Get in the fuckin' truck." He growled.
She obeyed, despite herself. She watched as Mac drug the body to the bed of his truck and threw the corpse in with a little effort and a lot of force. He wrenched the the two by two from Will's skull and threw it beside him in the truck bed. He silently crossed the distance between there and the driver's door and then climbed in the cabin. "We're gonna go fer a little ride."
The 'little ride' took two hours. Two hours of complete silence and awkward sexual tension. Aberdeen was managing to sober up and Mac was still buzzing from his hit before they embarked on this journey.
They hadn't been on an actual road for at least twenty minutes. Abruptly, the truck stopped, seemingly in the middle of no where. Mac cut the vehicle off and the two sat in silence for a good few minutes.
Aberdeen was the first to make a move. She crossed the bench seat and straddled Mac's hips, forcing her lips to his. He was quick to counteract, digging the pads of his fingers deep into the soft flesh of her hips. He pulled her down, grinding her into his massive erection, right where she needed release. "Clothes off." He ordered, already working on the fly of her jeans.
She leaned back and did away with her own top. It was ruined, along with her bra, she now noticed. She reached around her back and unclasped it, releasing her perky, full breasts to Mac's eyes. He growled and picked her up, tugging off her jeans. When they hit her knees, she maneuvered herself to get her jeans off the rest of the way and arched her ass as she came back to straddling him, hitting the horn on the steering wheel. She squealed as the noise cut the silence in the barren wasteland surrounding them and giggled when Mac grasped her hair and pulled her back to his hungry lips.
He wiggled a little, barely distracting her from the kiss until she felt the blade of his knife graze her hips and cut off the strings of her thong. She lifted only enough to release the ruined panties from underneath her and then rolled her hips into him, causing him to release a primal groan.
The hastiness of his actions sent surges of wetness to the apex of her thighs and she longed for him to help her find release. As if reading her mind, her placed a hand on her throat, on the verge of choking her, her back arched into the steering wheel and he brought his lips to her breasts, circling his nipples with his tongue, then tugging with his ragged, decaying teeth.
The pain caused her to cry out. "Please…" She whimpered, rolling her hips into him. He ignored her actions and sent his attention to the blood covering her stomach and breasts, licking the drying crust off tentatively. His thumbs brushed the diamonds anchored in her hips, just along her hipbones.
She shuddered against his touch and rolled her hips into his crotch, desperately trying to relieve the pressure. He hissed as she ground herself against him and decided to give her what she wanted, grazing his fingers down her pelvis and ramming two of his thick digits inside her wet cavern. His thumb found her swollen clit and he smirked against her chest when he felt the stud there, as well. He tugged on the piercing and she gasped, rocking against his hand.
"Ye like that?" He growled. She braced herself on his strong shoulders, lifting and lowering herself onto his hand. "Ye like fuckin' my hand, huh?"
"Rather it be something else." She purred. She leaned in and bit his neck, tasting salt and dirt. She started snapping the buttons on his coveralls, making her way all the way down his chest, all the while his thumb rubbed furiously over her quivering center. She pushed the coveralls over his shoulders and he adjusted himself to let her. For the first time she was able to marvel at his body. He was wearing a dirty, ripped wife beater underneath, but she could still see his broad shoulders and muscular arms. They weren't body builder muscles, but those of a man who was forced to work for a living. Strong and capable of doing dirty work. Her fingers grazed over his pecks before she wrapped them around the back of his head, lowering her mouth to his in a chaste kiss. His mouth captured her moans as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her tiny body. "Mmm, fuck!" She moaned out as the contractions slowed down to dull thumps.
He pulled his hands from her and lifted himself up enough to undo the rest of the buttons on his coveralls, now obviously in the way. He reached into the crotch of the material and undid his worn jeans, unleashing his impressive length that had been aching to be set free this entire time.
Without hesitation, Mac gripped her hips firmly, his right hand settling on a cluster of ribbons and pearls that draped across her ribcage and rolled down her hip and lower back. The ink there only accentuated her femininity and the beautiful shape of her body. He thrust himself deep inside of her. She cried out at the intrusion, but quickly adjusted to the new sensations his girth and length provided. "God damn." She muttered, letting her head roll back as she gripped onto his biceps for leverage, grinding her hips into his.
His fingers twisted in her long waves and pulled her tiny frame forward into his chest. His breath was hot in her ear as he whispered, "God ain't here." His teeth bit into the soft flesh of her earlobe and she cried out, grabbing at his face and desperately locking her lips to his. Her teeth locked onto his lower lip and she pulled back, their eyes locking and burning with lust.
He brought his large hands back to her hips and pulled her down, hard and fast, as he brought his own hips up to meet them. The sensation pounded into her and she made the most beautiful sound Mac ever heard. It was something between a cry of pain and a moan. "Fucking harder!"
Mac froze for a moment, watching her face contort. Harder? No one ever said that to him, ever. Bitch like it rough, he could give her rough! He mimicked the motion, then brought his fingers back to that barbell in her clit and tugged as she bucked her hips. "Ye like that? Filthy fuckin' slut."
"Oh, yeah." She choked the words out. She was nearing another powerful orgasm and her mind was beginning to fog.
Mac continued to work her clit as she ground her hips along his throbbing cock. He brought his other hand around and slapped her bare ass. She jutted forward, increasing their pressure with the new angle. "Fuck. Again!" She urged. He dug his fingers into her ass cheek, pulling the ripe, round globes apart and pulling her body down onto her.
"Fuckin' take it." He growled, smacking her ass again. That was the only push she needed. She started quaking around him, crying out. Her hands kneaded her breast and tweaked her own nipples as she rode out her pleasure. The spasming of her clenching pussy was too much for Mac and he came, fast and hard, spurting hot shots of cum deep inside of her and growling like a wild animal.
She ground herself into him a few more times, coming down slowly from her new found high, before she spun around and collapsed naked beside him on the bench seat in his tiny truck. "That is how a real man fucks." She sighed, completely sated and spent.
Mac chuckled to himself. "You're making me fuckin' love you." He smirked, taking his wet fingers into his mouth and licking off her hot juices.
They sat their for a moment, catching their breath before Mac threw open the door of his truck and climbed out, tucking his softening cock back into his pants. He tugged off his coveralls and handed them to Aberdeen. "Put this on." She gave him a questioning look. "Yer clothes gotta go." He explained. She nodded and scooted across the seat, exiting through his open door.
He couldn't help but gape at her luscious body, now fully exposed to him, even in the dark of the night. He watched, mesmerized as she bent before him, lifting her feet into the legs of the coveralls. He could see his semen dripping down her thighs, her pussy lips glistening in the moon light. She was totally his.
She got the coveralls to his waist and bent back into a straight stance. She spun to face him as she worked her arms into the upper half of the garment and caught him staring. "What?"
At that moment, all he wanted was to wrap her legs around his neck and lick her clean until she was coming in his mouth. He shook the thought from his head. They came out here for a reason. "Wait here." He commanded.
He walked back to the bed of the truck and let the tail gate down, dragging the heavy corpse to the ground. He tugged the body through the brush and red clay until he neared a dip in the ground that Aberdeen hadn't noticed until that moment. The truck was only a yard or so away. Mac put his steel-toed boot on the man's back and kicked, pushing the body until it tipped over the edge and fell into the hole. Aberdeen's curiosity got the best of her and she walked over to the edge and watched the man's lifeless body disappear. "Sinkhole." Mac muttered. "Get yer clothes."
She grabbed her discarded clothing from the bench and floor of the truck and brought them to Mac. He tied the clothes to the end of the wooden board, still dripping with the dead man's blood. He knelt down and pushed the body in further with the end of the piece of jagged lumber, then dropped the weapon in after the body. Everything disappeared before their eyes into the depths of the earth beneath them.
"No one fuck's with what's Mac's." He muttered, then sauntered back to his truck and started it up.
Aberdeen watched as the last bits of evidence sank into the sand. What had she gotten herself into?
Google Translate says that 'luna mesa' translates to 'moon table', but that doesn't really make sense in context, so I asked my mom, who speaks fluent Spanish, what it could mean and she said it roughly translates to 'place like the moon'. I don't know how right that is.
Any reviews, ideas, or feedback are greatly appreciated!