GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff. I am stressing this very clearly IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE MATURE VICTOR CREED CONTENT PLEASE DON'T READ

AGAIN Last warning, IF you can't handle MATURE content DO NOT READ

A/N Lady Mage - I am going to try this...HOPE people heed the warnings.

He was watching the man enter his apartment building. Soon, this was an easy mark, quick money, and he didn't even have to feel guilty for killing him after what he watched tonight. He was a mutant killer; he got his kicks off raping and killing mutant girls, the younger the better. It wasn't like Creed was much better, a frail was a frail to him, and if they didn't survive his needs, well fuck 'em, literally. It had been a show, that was for sure, this guy liked blood almost as much as he did, and killing him would be fun. It was always fun to take down another predator, prove who was king of the jungle, he grinned at that.

He waited, the lights came on, he watched him move around, get settled in. After a night like his, he would be getting really sleepy soon, sleepy was good, he planned on taking him out in his sleep, wake him up to his own blood, maybe cut his manhood off first, and shove it down his throat, there was a thought. He was trying to decide where to start on the mark when he felt it. The bloodlust left his brain; he was calm, peaceful for just a second, and then panic, anger, pain, fear. He didn't know why he did it, but he climbed the building behind him and ran eight blocks across the rooftops, looking for it, somehow he knew right where to go.

There were ten of them, hunched over something on the ground in the alley. Street thugs, not even decent ones, just wannabes, he saw a flash of something, something white, and soft, and bloody. Then he heard her scream, felt her scream. He dropped down right into the middle of them, scattering them for a second. That was all he needed. Her hair was black with blood, bits of color coming through, not enough to really tell. Her body was bruised, her clothing torn, but not off, and he didn't smell any of them inside her yet. He tilted his head to one side, she looked up at him, her eyes dilating and then rolling up into her head. She passed out. He gave the three punks still standing there his best 'get the hell out' grin, and they did. He lifted her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

He didn't know why, but he had to protect her, get her safe, for now. He went back to the mark's building, took off his fur covered duster, and pulled some zip ties out of the pocket. He tied her hands behind her back, her feet together, and with a tug at the bottom of his T shirt, made a gag for her mouth. No one would hear her up here on the roof if she did manage to make any noise around it; he wrapped her in his duster so she wouldn't get cold, and so she wouldn't be seen in the shadows, and climbed down the building. He slipped into the window, across to the chair. The man was snoring, why did they always snore? He couldn't remember a mark that didn't snore. This was going to be pleasant. First, well shit he left his duster on the roof, fine messy and noisy it would be. He put one hand on the man's throat, waking him and effectively silencing him in the same movement. He just grinned down at him.

"Marko says hi." He whispered, and he reached with his other hand for the man's crotch and grabbed, claws digging in, cutting tendons, flesh, and cloth. He brought his hand up, a glob of flesh and blood soaked cloth dripping in it. His other hand pressed down, strangling the scream in his throat.

"No noise, don't want to wake your nice neighbors." He shoved the glob of flesh into the man's open mouth. He went back in, pulling his intestines out of the wound, he wrapped them around the man's throat, constricting his vocal chords without cutting off all air, he wanted him awake, aware, and to feel ever inch of pain he was going to give him before he allowed him to die.

He stepped back, licking his fingers, the sweet taste of blood driving him to do more. He ran one claw around the man's face, in a circle, and slowly started to peel the skin back, he left it on, just peeled back on the edges, he wanted them to recognize him. Now it was time to enjoy himself. He slipped a claw under the bottom rib, and slowly, careful not to puncture a lung yet, cut his chest wide open. His heart was beating fast; he could smell the fear, the blood, the pain, it was such a rush. He reached in, gently and pulled his beating heart out of his chest.

"Say goodnight, Gracie." He always liked that line; he crushed his heart in his hand, and watched him go limp. Victor snapped his head back and forth, popping his neck. Job well done and dessert was waiting on the roof. He slipped out the window, and back to the rooftop. She was still out cold, perfect. He could get her back to the house. He unwrapped the duster, and threw her over his shoulder. He sprinted along the roofline, finally slipping down into the alley behind the parking lot. He slipped into the lot, popped the back of the SUV and laid her down. He grabbed the wipes and clean shirt and wiped himself up, changing so that the attendant wouldn't notice the blood. He didn't want to be seen anywhere near that alley, or the apartment.

His associates would swear, under pain of death, that he had been with them all night, and have the cash to prove he was a bad poker player. He drove out of the lot, arguing with the attendant and acting a little drunk. He glanced back every now and then to make sure she was still out. The drive home was quiet, but he could feel the buzz just under his skin. He needed the Glow again, and soon. A nice Glow, some good sex, some sleep, he might actually feel, well almost human tomorrow.

He pulled into the driveway. You'd never think he lived in a nice suburban neighborhood, houses a good distance away from each other, and yet close enough that he had to pull into the garage, so that no one would see him unload her. He slung her over his shoulder and up to the guest room, the one with the blacked out windows that he told his neighbors was for his photography hobby, the one with no handle on the inside of the door.

He pulled back the comforter and top sheet, and laid her down on the bed. Her tattered and dirty clothing a stark contrast to the clean white sheet, he reached out and ripped the blouse off of her body. She moaned in pain, and he saw the gashes on her pale flesh from their hands, he would have to do something about those, if he planned on keeping her. The skirt was next, revealing they hadn't gotten very far, her underwear were still in place…rip. That was better.

He stepped back and looked at her naked body, not bad, he'd had better, and it wasn't her body he was after anyway, it was the Glow. He tilted his head to one side. That gash on her side was deep; he was going to have to do something about it. He slipped up the bed, covering her naked body with his clothed one. He bent his head, and sniffed the wound. Not infected but better clean it. His tongue lapped along the cut, digging in deep, making sure there was nothing inside to cause infection. He felt her squirm and start under him. Her movement was enough to wake up the tingle just under his skin…blood and sex was his favorite combination. He lapped the wound again, before lifting his head and looking down into her eyes.

"Do it again." He demanded.

"Please, stop." She whimpered under him. He looked down at her.

"Give me the Glow, girly."

She looked up at him, confusion written on her face.

"In my head, push the blood, the pain, the fear, the guilt back, until I don't feel it anymore."

"I don't know what you are talking about." He felt her trembling beneath him, smelled her fear, and smelled the blood.

"You did it, tonight, when you asked for help. Do it again." He felt her in his mind, tentatively, pushing back those dark feelings. He felt the relief, the tingle lessen, the clear thoughts in his mind. She was good, better than Birdie ever was. He hadn't needed a telepath, he had needed an empath, and now he had one, a strong one from the feel of it. "Keep it up."

Her touch became stronger, pushing the feelings back, into the darkness of his memories, out of his conscious mind. He felt her, trying to touch sympathy, to get her to let him go.
"Enough." He put his hand to her throat.

"Don't try to manipulate me, empath, just give me the Glow and you will live." Her fear escalated, causing his arousal to escalate too.

He reached between their bodies, unfastening his pants, and freeing his straining erection. He smelled her fresh fear, and smiled.

"You are mine, I own you, kitten. Don't ever forget it." He stroked her naked body under him, fear driving him on, he brushed the side of her face with his, marking her with his scent, it smelled good with her fear, her blood, and now anger, even better. He wanted her to fight him, wanted her to resist. It made the Glow all the better. He kept his claws sheathed, he didn't want to kill her, and the Glow was too good. He stroked her body, feeling the cuts and scrapes along her skin, the damp trails of blood from the open cuts. He brought his fingers to his lips and let her watch him lick the blood off.

"You taste good, frail. Your blood is sweet." He kept his voice pitched low, quiet, fear he wanted, but not panic, not yet. He wanted her off balance. He let her feel him, hot and throbbing against her stomach, before shifting his hips, letting the tip slip down her folds and right outside her entrance.

"Please, don't do this." She begged. "I will do whatever you want, please."

"Yea, you will." He reached down, teasing her with soft touches, he could smell her, she was fighting it, they all did, but he could smell her body betraying her, he stroked and touched and caressed until he felt the first drops of moisture, and then with a surging thrust impaled her to the bed. She screamed under him, but her face was against his shoulder, and muffled. He growled, low, letting it vibrate all the way down his body, letting her feel it inside her. He smelled and felt the new surge of arousal. He waited; she ran out of breath and stopped screaming. He tangled one of his hands in her hair pulling her head back so he could see her.

"I told you, I own you." He growled it this time, emphasizing it with a thrust of his hips. She just whimpered and closed her eyes. He yanked her hair again, and she opened them. He brushed the side of her face again with his own, marking her with his scent, and then took his face down deeper against her shoulder, pulling almost out, and with a fierce thrust, bit deep into the muscle, all the way to bone, she screamed again, and again he muffled it with his body.

He lapped the bite, drinking in her blood, licking his lips, her whimpers of pain and fear fueling his need. He thrust again, this time slipping his hand between them and stroking her, bringing her arousal to a peak, she was going to hate him for this, but he didn't care. He wanted her to know she belonged to him; her body was his to command, and command he did. He felt her, tight around him; he pulled up, and looked her in the eye. He knew she could see the blood on his mouth, dripping down his chin, landing on her bruised flesh. He watched her eyes dilate, felt the muscles inside her constrict around him, and he almost let go, but no, her body was his to command, but his wasn't hers.

He watched the tears flow out of her eyes, and smiled his best evil smile. He reached down and licked them away, even those were his. He let her body calm down, the aftershocks subside, and then he began to thrust again, deeper, harder, letting his body take what it needed. He roared in his climax, ramming deep, driving his seed into her womb. She screamed in pain, but he didn't care. He pulled out of her, adjusting himself back into his blood soaked jeans. A nice hot bath after a Glow and a good fuck, sounded like the perfect end to a perfect evening to him. She just curled herself into a ball on the bed, and he threw the comforter and sheet over her. He should probably put a bandage over the bite, he wanted it to scar, but didn't want it to get infected. He left the room and came back with a first aid kit. He forced her to roll over, and bandaged the bite. The cut on her side had stopped bleeding, and was scabbing over so he left it.

"Get some sleep frail, your work starts tomorrow." shudder.