Disclaimer and Note:
From here on out, any and all intellectual properties, that can be recognised as being part of the Blood Drive Television series, Notable works of literary fiction, or Song lyrics, do not belong to me. I am borrowing for entertainment purposes.
Blood Drive itself is an Adult programme, so expect the same themes, course language, violence and nudity within. This is your warning. Turn back now if it's not your cup of tea.
This piece is dedicated to my Beta reader, Pudge :)
Prologue
Julian Slink stumbled through the Blood Gate back to the burning embers of the Mayhem Party. The earlier appearance of Jack and Diane had given a stiflingly chaste aftertaste to quite a salacious evening. The usual ruckus was nowhere to be seen, even the diehard Mayhemers were sexed out, and hiding away somewhere. The only signs of life were the fire pits, which themselves dreadfully close to expiring.
On the plus side, coming here to Meadeville, had resolved one, of the many, long standing issues for Heart Enterprises; not that anyone would credit him as such. No longer was there living evidence of the failed passion potion, The Dionysus Strain, and the remains of the laboratory would be nought but ash in the wind, once the admin team had blown through town in the following days.
With the state of the world, it didn't really matter about clearing up, but there was a pretty little thing in the office, whose sole job was to keep the company looking clean. 'Just in case the world gets better' her sing song voice often called. She was human, and her outlook was like a breath of fresh air whenever he was called into Headquarters. Sad thing was he'd reroute the Blood Drive at the tip of a hat, just to see her rare smiles.
Big, bad, and oh so mad; but Julian Slink was still a gentleman at heart.
Walking across the camp, Slink was eternally pleased to see his tent. Some rest was in order before he hauled his arse back to the office, for a continuation of tonight's head fuckery. He noted that there was no one guarding his tent, although after the events, preceding Heart's attempted arse kicking, the lack of persons could be justified. He made a mental note to speak with Rasher at the earliest convenience.
Walking straight through his receiving room, and into the area he reserved for his own entertainment, Julian found himself stood stock still, thoroughly amused at the sight before his eyes. Laid brazenly across his sofa was one Electra Frohne. Quite the delectable woman, and a skilled Blood Driver. Her hair was spread across one of the arms; so long, so luscious, so red, it put the blood they fed their engines to shame. She lay with her ankles crossed and feet over the opposing arm, admiring, what could only be his whiskey, in the light. She had yet to notice him, and was quite happy humming a terribly familiar tune to herself.
"I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, Queen Bee." He sang, a smile tugging involuntarily at his lips when she jumped.
Electra took pretty much no time at all to recover, "My squeeze," she purred without skipping a beat. She swung toned legs around and came across to greet him, "The Stage, it smells, tells, hell's bells, misspells, knocks me on my knees.[1]" She continued their impromptu duet, swapping bourbon, for top hat and brief case, placing them carefully on a nearby table, giving him quite the view of her delightful derriere, and the tantalising garden between.
Little had he expected it, but he had to admit, there was just something about being greeted with a kiss from a voluptuous woman, and more than a couple of fingers of whiskey. And it definitely helped when said woman was wearing naught but a scrap of lace and one of his shirts.
"Bad day at the office?" her voice was a melody, the sweet and tangy sugar syrup to his head fuck. "Let me help, sweetness." Her hands were all over him, as her body stayed just that little too far to be anything but a fucking prick tease.
With care Electra guided him towards his private boudoir, the room that barely anyone but him was allowed to enter. Ensuring that none of his precious liquor was spilt, she pushed him to sit on the edge of his bed. Kneeling at his feet, she unlaced his boots; removing them and his socks.
A kiss was stolen from his lips before her nimble fingers worked at his braces and buttons. The shirt was off; her body held in his embrace, kisses shared, as she'd brushed the material down his arms. The tumbler was placed safely on the side, and his shirt folded over the chair, before the bewitching creature spoke again.
"Let's get you comfortable, oh Master of Mayhem," her tone was sultry, her smirk downright wicked. "Let's wash all of those arseholes away. Let me help you slip away into pure pleasure."
As he tried to reaffirm his weakness, she placed a calm shushing finger to his lips. The glint in her eyes had him shuffling back towards the headboard, as she crawled towards him, and up his body.
The wicked smirk upon her lips, had a rush of arousal flooding through him. Julian found himself pinned against the cold metal frame, Electra straddled across his groin.
Her hands cradled his face, as she whispered, "trust me," before drawing him into a deep, prolonged, ardent kiss
All thoughts but Electra left his mind, his hands leaving his control. Running themselves across her body, committing her curves to the depths of his conscious. Hands squeezing, caressing, scratching. The shirt of his, she had been wearing, torn open, one of his favourites, ruined, but he no longer cared.
A long forgotten pressure began to build within him. Lips crashing together, gasping for breath in moments spared. Hearts hammering against rib cages.
She'd pushed him into submission, it didn't mean he wanted to stay there. Hands grasped at each other, Julian found his senses heightened to levels where all he could process was Electra, and the way her curves felt beneath the rough treatment of his hands. Her breasts crushed against his chest. His nerve endings were on fire, tingles that he wished would stop, but begged they would continue.
Involuntarily his hips began thrusting and gyrating against the goddess above him. She moaned into their kisses, proving only how much she was enjoying their liaison.
The pressure building inside of him reached its passionate ebullition, his fingers dug into her skin, as his body tensed and became rigid.
Like a gunshot the moment was over; Electra's kisses lost their ardency, gaining a tenderness, as their titillations came to an end. She eased her body from his, and found a comfortable position at his side.
Julian, lost for words, wrapped an arm around her, while he tried to get his faculties back. Never had he felt such bliss; he'd seen the experience upon the faces of others, it had looked so sinfully satisfying. Now he could see why so many religions had considered such carnal gratification as vulgar and depraved.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off; flashes of a buxom red head, swaying her hips as she walked away. The tickling linger of a kiss upon his cheek.
[1] Lyrics from In Hell I'll Be in Good Company from The Dead South
