Warning: If you can't handle all the fun stuff that makes a story rated M, you probably shouldn't have played this game in the first place. Sex, drugs, hints of non-con and horrible feelings of guilt and inner turmoil. What's not to love?
"I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have perilled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom." - Edgar Allan Poe
She was his morphine, and he absolutely had to have her.
That's what he muttered to himself over and over at three in the morning to excuse his now-regular walk through the slave compound, his steps all fucked up with the goddamn whisky and his stomach turning like he was going to heave even though he was good at this and he'd never done that before when he was this high. That's what he tried to remember when she met him with arms literally wide open and a pouty look on her face, leaning against the concrete doorway in nothing but one of his tank tops and a leather belt still wrapped loosely around her arm from when she'd taken her last hit. He scoffed at her, his loins swelling hotly all the same.
Her heroin did scary things to his system, and his cocain wasn't much better, but their highs and falls always came together and that's exactly what Vaas decided made her the best company on the whole fucking island when he was like this.
The girl – his girl - bolted when he came too close though, as if he were some kind of monster – fuck, maybe if she were hallucinating this time around, then he was exactly that. Vaas snarled with the feeling of power the thought elicited in him and he quickly gave into the chase, his heartbeat in his ears sounding way too damn good with the girl's mock-shriek of terror as she tumbled through the halls, all shaky legs and big feet. Her skin that was whiter than Hoyt's own private stash, so when he caught up to her, big arms wrapping around a too-skinny waist while he lifted and spun to roughly pin his prize into the nearest corner, she cried and he knew that there was going to be bruises in the morning. But as long as he was the only one giving them to her, what the hell did he care?
"C'mon, princesa..." He rasped, snatching her wrists up and slamming her into the wall again to hear the soft grunt she gave in return, knowing that his princess was doing her best to keep her screams from him. He didn't like it when she tried to act strong but goddamn if all her struggling and twisting against him didn't set his veins on fire. "Don't you want to play with me tonight—no?" He teased, a ruthless grin on his face that he knew bothered the hell out of. As if on cue, the girl tried to kick his legs out beneath their struggling bodies and slipped, sliding down the wall until he caught her and outright fucking laughed at her.
She was so tiny- even though he never acknowledged it and certainly didn't go any easier on her because of it. Slim and milky-skinned, with big black eyes and hair that was so blonde it was almost white, and so thick it caught your fingers when you tried to run them through it. The way her curls were, he imagined she was some weird, albino kind of mulatto or something. She had a woman's body too, but Vaas still called her his girl because of all the fucking freckles she had on those chubby cheeks that just refused to hollow, no matter how long it had been since she'd eaten real food.
...That, and he couldn't actually remember how old she was exactly. All he knew was that she was a lot younger than him.
-As if that would be what made her hate him, though. He'd shot her papa in between the eyes after the asshole got caught trying to fuck with one of Hoyt's shipments a couple months back. His pirates had found the girl hiding under a bed at the guy's house, along with millions worth of their other stolen spoils all over the place and hiding in every nook and cranny – all kinds of shit that must have gone right under the radar over a number of years. She hadn't done anything but cry and scream for weeks, until they'd given her enough dope to calm her ass down.
She'd been pretty good to them after that.
Now when the hand of her father's murderer slipped between her skinny legs and dipped inside her dripping entrance, Vaas hissed to find that she was soaking for him. He groaned into the shell of her ear, making it loud and sickeningly hot so she would cringe and wheeze back in annoyance – and earning a genuine smile from her dealer. Her king, as far as he was concerned. "I think you do..." He whispered, watching her eyes watch him. Watching her suck in her reddened bottom lip slowly and tilt her head back into his rough hands with a whimper, warmth filling his belly at the power she gave him and his fingers daring to delve even deeper into her.
The girl's lips on his stole Vaas right out of his mirthful reverie, his body twitching harshly in mute surprise to feel her odd little smirk against his mouth- and then the stinging of her harsh slap on his cheek before she tried to run. His grip around her arm became crushing and he caught her like she knew he would before she could flutter away from him again - spinning her around again by the arm and slamming her into the kitchen table. He hit her face back just as hard, but it wasn't like she noticed, crying first and then crying out in excitement second when he yanked her underwear right off her body and started to touch her. And at the end of it when he got a little bit worried he hurt her too much there, his princess just fucking laughed at him, chapped lips spread in a grin that wasn't nearly as innocent as the rest of her looked.
Skilled fingers danced where he knew his girl best, tickling her clit right under it's hood so the sensations are too much and twice as good during her high. He laughs, voice a little huskier this time around, to watch her jerk and twitch and gasp, glaring at him before her eyes water out of sensation alone and she shuts them. She doesn't really cry anymore.
"Little whore..." He berates her with a satisfied grin, even though his guttural tone means something a little more affectionate while he pulls himself back a bit, fingers glistening wet and hot before his face before he swallows them. Her hands reach out in a flash of milky flesh, drawing him closer and since her fingers are quicker, defter, his belt comes apart in mere seconds while she laughs again and kisses his chest through bloodstained and dirty fabric. Vaas just watches, breathing heavier than he should let her see when her small, cold hands wrap around his cock and musing silently to himself. He could encase her, if he wanted – her head only comes up to his chin when she's sitting, not that he notices that especially until the girl tries for his lips and catches his throat instead, the little grazes of her teeth irritating and tickling his skin all at once.
He hears the words 'yours' and 'please' pass her lips in kittenish sounds and anything humane in him is swallowed by fire and lust. There isn't even a second of mercy before he's yanking her slim pelvis forward and gripping himself with a feral groan, his thick cock finding its home inside her in one fluid thrust – not that he could bear to stop there, pumping at her in a cruel, quick rhythm.
The harsh rocking of the table is the loudest thing in the room but Vaas tried not to hear any of it. She wasn't a loud creature by nature but his ears strained nevertheless for what she was willing to give, and he revered in the small, human noises he did earn from her. Unintelligible babbles whispered under her breath soothe the sickness in his belly; the words really only audible when he thrusted hard enough to take her by surprise and she gasped at the blow, cunt clenching in reward. She doesn't touch him much, given that their sweaty bodies are smushed together on the kitchen counter, but it's just as good to see her hand slip down the flat of her own belly to please herself more and it's doubly fine with him when her pussy starts to contract harshly, reminding him again of that goddamn smallness.
When her eyes found his and she smiled through her ragged panting, Vaas was lost.
He brought his face to hers in the first kiss he'd given her out of his own desire that night, an action that makes his insides twist happily and the mad thoughts go away. But he doesn't know how to return the gentleness of her lips massaging his and her little pink tongue hesitantly asking for permission and mercy, so he hisses savagely and bites at her lips to muffle his sounds of weakness instead. She digs her nails into his arm in retribution for the bruises he's leaving on her, but the cry she gives when he bites her hard enough to draw blood is sacred to him. Her lips part from his, hot saliva their only remaining connection and her expression wrinkles when he lifts her leg high into her chest; grabbing at her ass and dragging her close as his pace suddenly changes and Vaas became desperate, uneven.
Her inner muscles harshly squeeze the cock inside her, and his body wracked with tremors in response. He was holding her way too hard and he knew his thrusts were rubbing her raw, but he didn't care, and the girl wisely decided against saying anything – whimpering and biting at the muscles of his shoulder instead as mingled pain and pleasure quickly brought her to a release she could hardly stand. Rather than crying in wanton abandon like he sometimes dreamed, she held it all it, eyes watering until a tear or two dripped down her cheeks and her pale cheeks went red with pleasure. That's how he knew it was good for her. That's the only time when he decided it was safe to cum, spilling his seed as deep inside her as he could manage and crushing her sweaty little body to his – allowing himself a final, guttural groan into her hair.
He's sweating, trembling. It's pathetic and weak and he knows she could feel it, but he can't stop. His cock is warm and snug inside her, and when he's high he thinks that her body might be heaven and the soft cushion of her breasts and the fat of her curves where he bruises her is his only home. Minutes after falling from the heights of his orgasm, he thinks to himself that he can sleep here – really, truly sleep. No dreaming, no nightmares. For five minutes when he doesn't remember that everything he has left hangs in the balance every single day of his life, that he's in the game so deep it scares him sometimes, that the only person who's ever made him feel even remotely okay inside is a traumatized teenage junkie...everything feels right.
...But when those five minutes are over, it's this part - where he has to pay her - that makes him sick and makes him want to fucking hate her.
It's the way his princess, the kid – the crack whore – acts all sweet and loving and like she actually gives a shit after they do these things that makes him want tofucking kill her just like he killed her dear papa. Put one right between her eyes so she never hugs him and whispers that she loves him again, because somehow she got it into her fucked up little head that he loves this kind of shit. And the problem with that, the thing that actually bothers him is that her assumption isn't wrong- it's just that he knows it isn't real, he knows it's a lie. And it's not like he's fucking crazy, because Vaas definitely knows he's not the most honest guy on the island, but neither does he have to whine and lie just to get his fucking fix – he isn't desperate enough for it even without the constant supply.
And if there's one thing that's more pathetic to him than someone who does have to beg for it, it's the fucking assholes like him that allow her to do this. He's never told her to shut the fuck up, even though he aches to when her freckled face lights up when he slips himself out of her and pulls up his pants, fishing a baggie out of his pockets and throwing it her way. Even though he'd kill to tell her that when she hops off the counter and snatches it up off the floor so she can forget everything that he just did to her and made her do to him.
...And it's a little bit fucking ridiculous that he can burn a whole village of Rakyat families to the ground without a blink, but somehow the look on her face when she finally gets her dope makes him feel like shit. Your morphine is supposed to make you feel good, for fuck's sake...but it isn't good for shit when it's all gone, is it? The wounds are still there, and Vaas gets to really feel like the sick fuck he is when he leaves the compound without another word from her, his princess happy to sit, naked and filled with his cum in the common area of a whore house as long as she's got her bump of sweet, sweet heroin and doesn't have to come down off her cloud to see the shit hole she's stuck in.
She's disgusting to him, but he knows the minute he's back at his camp that he'll be no better than her. And he knows that tomorrow at 3 A.M when he's lonely and doesn't want to face his demons, she'll be more beautiful and more enticing than any drug in the world.