Re-editing this story is such a pain, but I think the results of this one will be better :D
Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters presented in this story. I do own Anaya and other OC's that I have made and any likeness to other comic-book characters is unintentional.
Rated M for violence, mature themes, language, and sexuality.
Whew! Now that that's out the way, enjoy the story!
Chapter 1: Uncharmed Introduction
Victor Creed had a soft spot for holidays, especially concerning the ones where a dense concentration of humans gathered, like spring break.
Thousands of unsuspecting people, more so the misses, relaxed their guards to welcome senseless debauchery. Hell, picking out prey had never been so easy. Dames gorged on alcohol, partied, and fucked, lowering inhibitions without a care. Then again, it didn't count as prey because he wasn't chasing for the hunt. He would walk up to a drunken girl and carry her off to a deserted location, allowing them to sober up before the real fun began.
How odd that those habits have altered (for the time being), finding a woman to challenge and satiate his virile urges, letting the dim-witted humans frolic about with naïve sentiments; until their stupidity drove him to revisit his signature blood shedding.
S-s-S-s-S
Creed walked into a seedy lounge, feeling the need to escape suspicion after a violent bout with police officers. Was it so hard for them to leave him alone? He held no fault that the cops stuck their noses in affairs of no concern to them.
Victor, at the time, confronted a stranger who interfered with his "conversation" he held with a harlot. Had the man minded his business instead of saving the damsel, he would have lived another day. And if the deputies didn't play the Samaritan role, they could've been on their way home to their loving families. Violence remained a habit in the life of Victor Creed, full of cruelty from the bearings of a young boy. Why should he exempt anyone from his lack of sympathy?
Portraits of deserts, music icons, and movie actresses adorned the walls, some fading away by ink smears and food stains running over the photos. Long legs strolled through the dark tavern, inhaling the various scents mingling inside, eyeing the sweaty patrons before sidling up to the bar to order a beer. Once he secured himself a seat on a swiveling bar stool, he noticed the barkeeper.
A square-shaped jaw line with hazel-green eyes and curly bleached hair pulled into a ponytail decorated her profile. Her figure leaned on the waifish side with body fat on display. To some sad sack of flesh she'll make a simple target to a delinquent, but Victor liked his playthings more... lively.
Upon receiving his bottle, he turned around in his seat, scanning the remaining scenery in the dimmed pub, mildly listening to 'Rhiannon' playing softly through the jukebox.
Police didn't search for thieves and criminals in this part of town because of its old buildings and faltering environments. Dealings of the illegal kind thrived in here. As long as the crooks gave the crooked cops a share of their contraband proceeds, they steered clear of this area on purpose, enabling society's scum to infect what they wished.
Victor chugged his drink, letting the cool, brown liquid quench his dried throat, inspecting the establishment's visitors.
In the far left booth sat a 50-ish looking man with a buxom brunette across from him. A sharpie substituted her eyeshadow, failing to let her eye color show; that black shit shrouded its hue. She kept flipping her tresses over her shoulder and extending her slim neck, creating light touches on his skin. The elder grinned, his slanted, pearly teeth gleaming in the overhead lamp above them.
Victor knew this wasn't the love of his life, made painfully known by the white line showing on his wedding finger. And the woman feigned interest in him; a barely concealed thigh holster outlined in the tight red, knee-high dress she wore. Her John probably stood somewhere near if any trouble blossomed.
Creed shifted his focus to the other side of the bar, noticing two young teens. Her rosy pink cheeks matched well with her sun-kissed skin. Bone straight, golden-brown hair enhanced her heart-shaped face. The boy at the table focused on his poison of choice rather than his girlfriend, whose face desired to take tonight back. If her freshly deflowered scent told him anything, then Victor remained positive her first time sustained disappointment.
He envisioned the scene; the boy working his charm on her naïve nature to get inside her ass. If Creed judged solely by her facial expression, he would say tremendous discontent settled in her physique. She probably filled her head with those sappy romance novels telling of how the girl had a 'pleasant orgasm' with the man she would 'grow old' with.
As if the teenager read her thoughts, he glanced over to her and smiled half-assed. Victor proved himself correct when the look of longing and expectance shone bright through her eyes. The teen male pumped her with a few hard strokes before he emptied himself into her.
Her first time had been awful.
He could snatch her up and show her what it's like to have her cherry popped by a professional. And just for her he would tread slowly, making sure he roamed over every inch of her body. He'll find her sweet spots and make her toes curl inward; to let her forget this night.
But for things such as these, his limited patience ran its course. Sex to him, when short on time, involved pulling it out, sticking it in, emptying itself, and tucking it away. Kids these days can't do shit right.
After scanning the remaining degenerates with a dispassionate sigh, he moved to order one more bottle when a mingling of scents caught his attention. Blackberries and vanilla mixed with a faint, coppery scent tickled his senses.
A long inhale settled in his curvy nose, leading his face to where the scents originated, vision landing on a female sitting alone at a table. From this angle, her side profile appeared pleasant to his sight, wondering if he'll see the other half of her visage; the overhead, honey-yellow lighting emphasizing her physique.
Cool, sage eyes watched her bring her forefinger up to lick a red substance, trailing her finger around her mouth in a lazy glide. Despite how casual and calm the act, he couldn't shake off her non-human status. Then again, eccentric people did all kinds of crazy shit.
Fixated on the innocent yet strangely erotic show, her other features came into focus. Soft and creamy skin the shade of espresso stretched over her body, the light she sat under showed how even and smooth it viewed. Straight blue-black hair skimmed across the middle of her back; the part of her mane angled her slim face. The bartender behind him cleared her throat before she yelled for 'Anaya' to come and get her drinks. She sighed before she stood to retrieve her order.
"Anaya," said Creed with slow purpose while tasting her name, figuring she'd be the winner for his lively excursion.
Shapely, curved legs reached to a height of six feet, five eleven without shoes. She towered over most of the below-than-average stature males, giving her own indignant snub at the various men stopping their actions to drink in her curves.
Miss Anaya wouldn't fit the runway model world with her figure, sure to stick out like a definite sore thumb among her scrawny-limbed counterparts; perhaps one of those music groupies that fucked the brains out of those celebrities? But she didn't seem to have that kind of profession. Something about her commanded a regal aura, very mysterious and enticing. Approaching the bar she glimpsed at Victor, her eggplant-hued eyes sparkling in the dim lights.
Yup, that's a mutie. Not too many humans had that eye color, and he doubted a birth defect changed the hue. The 'wanting' aspect of her doubled since he saw that small detail. Maybe she had a super power hidden beneath her cool exterior, and wouldn't hesitate to let it out.
A black, crochet halter top barely covered her ample breasts. White leggings hugged her derriere in a snug fit. Low-heeled black boots lengthened her legs, stopping their growth by the floor. His gaze never left her, entranced with the subtle way she swayed her hips.
The light taste of a salty substance came to the forefront with his prolonged staring. She'll be an easy catch as an acrid heat danced on his nostrils. Victor slowly unmasked a sensual grin, seeing her slightly cringe under his harsh focus.
Hmm, kitten's claws are retractable. He chuckled, envisioning erotic positions while undressing her with his eyes.
Anaya returned to her chair, sitting to where she wouldn't face the leering male. Soon after, an olive-toned woman wearing her raven-dark hair in feathered, sumptuous waves flounced back to her table, her pear-green, bare-shouldered romper and matching peep-toe heels garnering more attention from the patrons. She stood at the same height as her purple-eyed friend, though flaunted svelte curves.
"You took forever, Valerie." Anaya queried with an eyebrow raised.
"Didn't seem like it, sweetie. If you must know, I was cornered by this stud of a man who asked who wore the pants in my relationship. Then he begged to get inside them."
Typical. Valerie attracted attention wherever she traveled. "Funny, with your ass cheeks barely covered, you'd wonder why he would ask such a thing."
"Exactly."
"One of these days, you'll forget to walk out in public with bottoms on. Wouldn't hurt to wear them every once in a while."
"Yeah. Sure. I'll do that as soon as you learn how to don a bra, Mrs. Tit Queen."
Eggplant-hues glanced down. "This shirt says I can't."
"Just like this romper doesn't allow me to wear my bra down there. Oh goody, my drink is ready." Valerie took her orange liqueur, staring into Anaya's gawking face, taking a merrily sip and oblivious to telling her friend she forwent her underwear.
"Well, aren't you such a fucking lady." Anaya noted, closing her mouth in surprise.
"Every damn day."
She grabbed her red liqueur and sipped, eyes shifting to gaze at the far-off look her friend displayed. Ten seconds later found Anaya snapping her fingers to regain her friend's attention from whatever she engrossed herself in.
"Earth to Valerie, come in please."
"I never left, sweetie. I'm only wondering what the fuck this guy is ogling at." Anaya had a hunch to who she mentioned; the reason she sat away from him.
She leaned in and whispered, "The one with the horrible side burns and gray eyes?"
"Yeah, that would be him."
Anaya gave an irritated snort. "He's been gawking since I went up there to get the drinks."
"Well, I'm surprised you don't have holes burned into your body from him staring so hard, and we are still doing this stare-off as of my speaking."
"Okay, now stop that. Maybe he thinks we're out of place in here. I don't know..." Anaya took another sip of her drink when out of the shadows came a handsome stud, seemingly making a beeline towards her table.
Valerie clucked her tongue in mirth. "Or he's waiting on you to turn around so he can give you the 'let's fuck' speech."
The mutantess coughed into her drink, patting her chest to cease her hacking while Valerie played innocent.
Well, for her it rang true.
Valerie Conrad didn't live as the average woman. Though she blended into the human population, biologically she is a mutant possessing an extended life span. With most mutants cursed with the gift of prolonged living, they usually healed from fatal injuries that can kill a mortal on the spot. Unfortunately for her, this is not so. If she sustained such wounds, she had better hope a proficient hospital stood nearby.
Fortunately for her however, this longevity sprouted benefits, mainly through the various, wealthy husbands she outlived. She dared not tell her 'lovers' her true nature in fear of them rejecting her. Sometimes it helped to play a trophy wife, robbing the bastards blind after their expiration date arrived.
Out of these marriages came an abundant of materialistic possessions, excluding any heirs. It's not like she wanted none of the adorable brats, it's the frightening thought she would end up burying her kin instead of them doing that to her.
Husbands blossomed and withered in her eyes, but her children, should she have any, would take a fundamental piece away with them if they didn't inherit her traits. She couldn't endure that happening.
And her spouses lacked in providing offspring anyways.
Something happened to her husbands' sex drive when they hit their fifties, lacking the urge to keep it up past a decent time. She'd been to bed with some fifty and sixty-year-old men before, and their stamina leveled on par with that of a twenty-year-old. Then again, maybe it had to do with her husbands working with less than impressive dicks, what with being fat and lazy as hell.
When Anaya finished her coughing onslaught, she meekly pointed towards a man who stood next to their table, smiling in restrained excitement.
The desirable brunette sure knew how to pick them. How she fucked the most gorgeous breeds the male species had to offer, and married the ugliest bastards escaped Anaya's comprehension.
"Are you escaping me, woman? Trying to make me file a missing persons report?"
Smooth. Suave. Sexy. Strong. Handsome. Charming. Charismatic.
One of the best the Y-chromosome offered or the worst. Never in between.
Anaya showed a small smirk in admiration of the sight set before her. Shaggy, deep brown hair stopped right at his neck. Its parted style gave off that sensual, dangerous vibe or reveled in the shy type should he shake his locks into his bright, emerald irises.
"Oh, you again. You followed me," Valerie played off the surprise with a twitching face, mouth splitting into two that rivaled the cheshire cat's smile. She crossed her stilts and rested her chin in her left palm, hazel eyes swirling everywhere except at Anaya and her handsome admirer. Her leg bounced the heightened one back and forth; said raised leg hitting the side of Anaya's every so often.
"So, you're the guy who kept my Valerie away from me for so long," Anaya gave him a sweet grin while she returned the kick.
"Yes ma'am. This one was trying to play slick since she first saw me, so I had to catch her. I'm Josh, by the way. And what is your name, miss?" Josh held his hand out with a gentleman's grace while his gaze pierced into Anaya, seemingly bewitched by her eye color, but chose to say nothing on the matter.
A magnetic-like pull from his orbs made her feel a little woozy, similar to spinning in circles and needing to land on him to recuperate. She shook her head once to get rid of that sensation and offered him her hand, smirking along as she did it. "Mine's Anaya."
"Hmm, such a beautiful name for a woman who matches it." He took her palm and kissed it, offering her the smallest touch of tongue to complement the gesture.
Such a charming bastard indeed. So charming she sensed a pang of envy rise within her at her best friend's 'free spirit'.
Questions arose about the men that Valerie had an affair with while being wedded. Sure, she loved none of her husbands as they didn't really care for her, but she wore that symbolic ring. Her vagina belonged to her husband and his penis to her. She should have found out beforehand if the sex might be awful before she said 'I do'.
Anaya wouldn't feel genuine within herself if she pursued a relationship with somebody and she hitched her carriage all the while. Dishonesty runs rampant among those who constantly act on their selfish desires while fooling someone to believe their honest nature. It's even made harder to find someone decent due to the mortality rate in humans. Oh well, at least Valerie kept the 'til death do us part' alive true, working on her third marriage...
"Why, thank you," Anaya smiled bright and wide, letting the tip of her sharp incisor show. She intended to inquire his intentions with Valerie when she could have sworn she heard a low growl emanating from behind her. It sounded practically inaudible to the other two at the table, but the rumble launched next to her ear.
Dare she turn around and see where that sound originated? Janis Joplin's 'Piece of My Heart' began to play, but her vocals hadn't come in yet. The only one in the back of her existed that menacing creep. Though he emulated a somewhat animalistic style, is it safe to assume the noise originated from him?
She returned to her drink, wondering how many outside relationships Valerie chased since she knew her, and the hearts she broke in consequence. Every marriage of hers always had a potent plaything on the side where she tossed him away when the union deteriorated. By reason of failed orgasmic endings because her spouses claimed she was "frigid" in bed, she went out in secret and had fun. She explained her most pressing response to these accusations.
"Frigid is a man's word for a woman who can't orgasm in two minutes with the stimulation that works for him, or because of a man's lack of sexual finesse in bed."
Thus, it stayed a reason to stray and discover a stud who passed her requirements in the sack. She flaunted her sensuality and pride; something Anaya thought she followed suit in... when she caught 'the one' to express that to.
With a final resolve to let her buddy enjoy her limited time with her new beau she sighed, deciding to cut her three week vacation short. "I'm pretty sure you kiddies have somewhere else to be. After all, it is a gorgeous night out tonight."
Josh's face twitched into a thousand happy emotions at her mentioning of what he planned on doing. He didn't want to rush the babe since she mingled with her friend, but his loins grew agitated the longer he waited.
Valerie stopped her eye roaming to settle on the woman before her, startled she would call off their girls' night early. A lightening sensation swam through her though; the anticipation to maul her anxious lover maddened her senses. However, she would not put her bestest before some dick without having her consent, especially if they traversed the town enjoying each other's company.
Truth be told, she took this 'vacation' to distance herself from her husband. He involved himself in some government scandal, and she refused to act as an accessory; not for support, as his alibi, nothing at all. She should have been back to him two weeks ago, but decided her friendship betokened way more important than her flimsy union, so her girl time with the woman she grew up with persevered.
"Who says I want to end this evening early, sweetie?"
"Because you're you, Val. And if you don't do something fun and exhilarating before you go home, you'll be kidnapping me to do it with you. We have time to do a whole globe of shit and you know that, so take Prince Charming here and charm him." She gave Josh a sly wink and a kick to her friend beneath the table, leaving no room for any arguments.
Valerie felt a deep appreciation simmer in her being, knowing her bond with Anaya endured stronger than a link of blood relation. Overcoming problems through the decades of their existence withstood the test of time... and each other. She helped Anaya cope through her perplexing powers, and she with her sour relationships. Spending her night with her sex god lessened her wanting of him.
Valerie pushed another protest to convince Anaya otherwise, albeit weakly."Well, yeah but-"
"Do you want your old-man pug to send a search party for you?"
The raven-haired woman's lips pressed into a thin line.
"I thought so."
"So screw that old-man pug." Peach-painted lips scrunched into a pout.
"I hate that old-man pug." Anaya declared.
"Same here, but-"
"Then it's settled."
"But what are you doing for fun? Unless you give your stalker a piece of your pus-"
"Oh, look at the time! You two should really head out!"
She reached over and grabbed Josh and Valerie in each hand, pulling them from their table to the door. Valerie slid her eyes over to Victor and assessed he didn't look that bad. Slightly creepy and thickset in stature, but worthy of a one-night stand status in her book. In her not so subtle way, she gave an alluring wink to the imposing stranger, conveying a hidden message at the availability of her girlfriend.
Anaya glanced back and ushered the pair to the exit, but not before giving her a firm smack on Val's posterior. No point in peering behind her to see Val batting an eye, she knew she did it from years of experience.
Once the purple-eyed woman pushed both patrons out the door, she quickly turned Valerie around and ensnared her with an endearing hug, burying her nose in her hair; it might be a minute before they met again. During these rare moments, Anaya wondered why Val tortured herself in this manner; marriage after marriage, boyfriend after boyfriend and nothing meaningful came out of it, material possessions included.
She claimed she could spend her ill-gotten fortune with someone who would always be there for her, instead of anyone with a mortality attached to their lifespan. Children hadn't entered the picture because her mutant abilities would not be enough to save them from such feats. She convinced Val countless times to have the darlings just to see what would happen, but to no avail.
When the question turned around on her, Anaya reasoned to wait for the right time, or rather, the right guy...despite having no luck so far.
"I-don't-wanna-leave," Valerie pretended to mock cry, but the slight quiver in her voice declared otherwise.
"You have no choice but to. Besides, I'm heading eastward and you know I won't pass by without seeing you, you big baby."
The brunette relented, but goodbyes brought forth bittersweet sentiments and she didn't like to go through with them... unless for the funerals of her husbands and flings.
Memories of their time together flooded Valerie's mind, pouring over her thoughts upon remembering the shopping outlets visited, the spas enjoyed, the restaurants ...
Valerie grabbed Anaya by the shoulders and locked eyes on her face, all emotions gone from her expression and replaced with a stern one. "You ate, right?"
"Um, we ate like four hours ago."
"No, the other eat."
"Oh, that. Nope."
"Anaya, it's been nearly two weeks!"
Anaya glanced at Josh before returning to her pal, conveying they shouldn't discuss this in front of the handsome devil. Valerie, taking the hint, pulled him further along the building and told him to wait there, grabbing his crotch in a firm hold before telling him, "Hang on a sec, gotta get some girl talk in."
She sauntered back to resume talking, seeing the Anaya roll her eyeballs.
"How cute," the purple-eyed woman drawled.
"Shut up," she mocked, "How can you go so long without sucking some poor fool dry?"
"Well, when could I? We were inescapable from each other for three weeks."
"You should have slipped away and came back in unnoticed." Valerie's tone had moved towards a more serious, patronizing vibe. She witnessed Anaya's other side come out with a starving thirst. Her mutant powers mimicked a night walker, but their greatest weakness amplified if her sanguine requirement failed completion.
"Valerie, stop being a worrywart. Don't you see all that low-life trash infesting that place? I'm covered. And if I gotta, I'll turn this bitch inside out until I'm full. So you, little sassy ass, need not worry, okay?" Anaya revealed her fangs in light of this promise to show her friend she meant business.
"Yeah well, I'm still mad at you for scaring me like that." Her tone, posture, and deliverance tried to amount up to an angered person, but she lacked conviction.
"You are a terrible liar, my dear."
"Perhaps, but I learned from the worst."
"Me?" Now it was Anaya's turn to feign a mock pout.
"No, my current husband, you half-wit."
She chuckled before giving her friend another firm hug, remembering the people in the bar that fitted the bill to appease her appetite. She didn't ponder long before the creepy stalker appeared at the forefront of her mind.
"You have your fun, and I'll call you when I think you made it back home safe, Mrs. O'Dare-ouch!"
Valerie smirked in devilish glee, withdrawing her hand from Anaya's rear end, giving her some discipline for using the name she loathed. "I'll probably be in by tomorrow evening so call me then," she spoke, swaying her way to her current beau.
Halfway back to him, Josh snatched her up and smothered her face in his. He walked towards the darkness to woo the perfect catch for the moment; had to before her "dog" searched for her. He never understood the female attachment to such small, ugly animals.
Breaking free of his assault, she blew a half-assed kiss and a brief wave to Anaya before her Prince Charming picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a trophy to take home. Nevertheless, that wasn't far from the truth. They turned around the corner and assimilated into the blanket of the night.
Anaya inhaled their pheromones riding in the air, shaking her head in amusement before she headed inside just to see who she could snack on.
A fight had broke out. Two drunken teenagers lost track of whose turn it was to hit the cue ball, resulting in a pushing contest to an all-out brawl. The spectators tried to surround the opponents to encourage the quarrel, but the muscle-bound bouncer that came out of nowhere stopped the uproar before it escalated. He grabbed the patrons by the scruff of their collar and threw them out the back door, not caring to check for injuries.
Heady, copper liquid filled the woman's nostrils with tempting thoughts, savoring what harbored to become hers in a matter of moments. Why bother putting up such a struggle with the asshole in the bar when freebies waited for her outside?
Her eyes flashed in their full dark color with the scant musk of blood lingering, making a beeline towards the alley. She paused by her table to drop off an extra tip, snubbing the pitiful excuses of men inhabiting the place.
She betted on their blood tasting bitter with beer swimming in their bloodstream. If they drank that much to be indecisive about whose turn gets to play, then they over indulged with the alcohol. Alas, she cared less to put forth effort to bleed something dry, just drinking enough until she deemed someone else more worthy to do so.
Resolute in her decision, she pursued her thirst before she collapsed from the metallic liquid tantalizing her senses. This will be a quick attack; neither boy would know what hit them upon descending to their deaths. Though, she should still slash the creeper with that weird grin from earlier, at least he would satisfy her cravings well into the latter days of the week.
Before she got to the exit, she peeked over her shoulder to see the same stocky man staring. He'd been watching her all night; too long for her comfort. No one gazed at her for such a lengthy period without wanting to do something to her; in the sex or the murdering sense she didn't care to find out.
With that final mentation she hastened out the door, quickening her pace to where the two boys would meet their unsuspecting fates.
S-s-S-s-S
Creed smiled wide.
It humored his senses with their engaging chatter.
It still wasn't shit worth mentioning, but it entertained him nevertheless.
Even though they bleated about absolutely nothing, they knew of him and his presence. The brunette tried to have a staring contest to see who would bend first, to challenge him over the rights to her sensuous friend.
He found that sexy. So sexy he almost overlooked the prude for the skeez. But something about the pallid vixen had him with second doubts. He smelled sex on her; on her clothes, on her skin and in her aura. She racked up bonus points because it meant she knew a few moves in her fucking arsenal, but it also told him she used her snatch often. He was in the mood for a dame more reserved than the rest, or someone who didn't radiate stale sex.
But when this 'Anaya' hypothesized the reason he bore into her so hard resulted from his interest in her, it made him forget the other broad existed. This 'Anaya' registered his attention on her and she played it off as him being some horny freak. She got it right though, he wanted to dip inside of her.
He felt rather miffed that that asshole touched her, Victor letting his displeasure at the gesture be known. Her stiffened posture told him she heard him, releasing her hand from his soon after. What put the icing on the cake provided the scene where Vicky, Verlaine, whatever her name, gave him a suggestive wink; giving him the okay to have the woman.
Victor turned around and paid for his drinks, leaving a generous tip the bartender wasn't worthy of. But since the bar high-lighted his alluring play thing, he would let it slide. He readjusted his coat once, taking big strides towards the exit in pursuance of his next meal.
"Looks like it's time to start the show," Creed smirked, slowly making his way out the door to begin his assault.
A/N:There you have it. The edited chapter to the story that needed some major work done for it to be presentable.
The reviews I received the first go around let me know that I had something here and that I needed to work more at it so that I could make it better. I thank those who left those kind of reviews and I hope that I will continue to do so with the encouragement that I hope and continue to receive.
So until then, I will present you with another chapter in a short time. Thank you and I will see you later!