***Chapter Nine: 'Twas Beauty Who Killed the Beast***

I can't help crying a little as Killer Croc pulls me into his embrace. I'm so unbelievably fucked! Ivy and Croc have apparently worked out some kind of deal with one another and now I'm back within Killer Croc's grasps. A part of me isn't as bothered by it as I probably should be, but I also know I may never see anyone from the surface ever again…

"What're you cryin' for? Riolu…" He asks this as he picks me up bridal-style, walking me through to the bathroom adjutant to the bedroom. Not sure why I hadn't bothered to look in here before but now I can't seem to look away. The bathtub was full of clean, steaming hot water with flower petals floating suggestively along the candle lit surface.

He notices where my eyes have strayed and follows them to the tub. "Strange… Ivy musta been feeling charitable…"

I almost don't want to ask… "What do you mean?"

"I'm not the one who put the flowers in the water… Nice touch though."

I feel sick as his words only confirm my previous thoughts… Ivy and Croc were working together. He seems to sense my discomfort, setting my feet back on the floor as he bends over further to keep at eye level with me.

"Do you like your room? I made it for you…"

"I… uh, yeah. It's very… nice, but why did you do this?"

"I did it cuz I want you to live 'ere with me." He scratches his head then, seeming almost uncertain as he looks around the room, looking everywhere but at me. Seeing him so openly vulnerable, I really start to see the man under the scales. Though I could never forget the beast he's made himself out to be, I realize too that he's a man extremely inexperienced with socialization. He seems uncertain what he should do as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next, contemplating what to do. I think back on some of the notes I remember from Dr. Young's journal. Maybe some of the information I learned about Waylon could help me to cope with the situation at hand.

'…Jones was born with a rare mutation of epidermolytic hyperkeratosis that created a series of physical disfigurements, which have worsened intensely with age. His skin is green and scaly, and his body has grown to grotesque proportions…'

That part had stuck out the most to me, finding out that we shared the very same disease that turned him into a disfigured beast. The fear I had felt, the sympathy of having to lead such a painful life, and the yearning to comfort him, though I wouldn't really know how to...

Waylon seems to have come to a decision as he finally approaches me, placing a large hand on each of my shoulders and pulling me out of the bathroom to direct me towards the bed. As I finally sit down, I look to his face, somehow softened despite the jagged angles of his face. "Riolu, I ain't any prince charming and I know I ain't pleasant to look at but… know that nobody could ever want you as much as I do…"

He speaks with such conviction, he makes my heart skip a beat, my fingers and toes go numb… He wants me… I can't help gasping my surprise at his sudden, and quite frank, confession. At the same time, I cannot deny the hot bolt of awareness that runs through my whole body before setting between my legs, making me squirm.

'…While these disfigurements are unquestionably the source of Jones' various psychological disorders, his intense misanthropy seems to also derive from an understandably difficult childhood, which included a transfer of guardianship to alcoholic relatives after his mother passed away giving birth ,and social rejection by his peers…'

Then again, when I put his past into perspective, he may never have known such feelings of warmth before but I know in my heart of hearts, what he feels for me is just a carnal lust left unsatisfied from the day Poison Ivy polluted me with her powerful pheromone-inducing scent. All of this had started because of the way she made me smell that day… That and whatever the hell she forced me to swallow today.

"Waylon… what if what you feel for me was only chemical? A carnal reaction induced by your sensory perception?"

"What…?"

"…The way I smell… I need to say this to you before we go any further… When you first found me in the sewers, I was trapped there by Poison Ivy. She drenched me in a type of dust that makes me… smell attractive. It's a chemical called pheromone that causes the opposite sex to become… aroused."

I feel so embarrassed just saying the words, like a schoolgirl saying curse words for the first time. But my embarrassment sharpens to fear as he tenses, looking like an animal winding-up for an attack.

"You were drugged by Poison Ivy to bait me?"

I barely nod my head; feeling trapped in the small room as Killer Croc crowds me even further into the bedding.

"Were you a willing participant to her plan?" He pushes me onto the bed fully, pinning me under his massive weight. He pulls my arms above my head a little too forcefully, his chest rumbling as he looks me over. My body freezes in fear, adrenaline spiking in my veins as I case my surroundings for an exit… But in this position, pinned as I am, there is no exit. I am left completely at his mercy.

'…His acute misanthropy makes him difficult to treat; he refuses to respond to socialization, reacting only when he is acknowledged as a dangerous beast, which is clearly how he views himself.

It may be that his physical disfigurements are so severe, he will never be able to truly reintegrate into human society. This challenge is made clear by his repeated (and occasionally successful) attempts to maim and kill the asylum's orderlies and doctors. Special enmity with guard named Aaron Cash.'

"No! I beat up one of her lackeys and she punished me in the sewers! I had no idea what was happening till it was too late and I was tied-up! I still don't really get why she did it… not entirely." His iron hold on my wrists loosens considerably, a freehand coming down to rest on my hip as he leans more onto the bed. I can faintly hear the groan of the mattresses as it shifts under his considerable weight.

"What do you mean?" His face is one of genuine curiosity as his eyes bore mine for answers.

"I think for beating two of her henchmen in the food hall, leaving me in the sewers to die is a bit extreme… Especially when you consider Poison Ivy's more motherly tendencies towards women… There's just too much that doesn't add up…"

"Eh, I wouldn't put it past 'er if I was you… At her core, that bitch really hates everybody… I'll see what I can do about settlin' that score later, but now I need you to understand somethin'…" He releases my wrists entirely this time, lying down on his side next to me.

"Huh? What?"

"Your scent was one of the first things I noticed about you but that's not the only thing that drives me mad for you."

"Really? But I'm such a-"

"Riolu, you're beautiful, clever, pure... and I know on some level, you have feelings for me too. It's in the way you always call me by my name; the way you kiss me… the way you never call me a 'freak' or a 'monster'. You look like you were made to be mine…" He skims his hand along the side of my leg, scales against scales, lifting it to wrap around his hip. This position places my core in direct contact with his erection, wisps of clothing the only thing between us. "… I love your long legs… The way they wrap around me…"

My stomach tingles with delight between knotting up in fear as he hovers over me, his face looming over my neck, inhaling deeply.

"You smell different than when we first met… I can still smell flowers but it's faint… You smell like the rain and roses." He raises himself slightly to look me in the eyes, his face serious. "Riolu, do you want me?"

This is the moment of truth. I can't lie to myself and pretend I'm not attracted but I'm still not sure I'm ready to take that leap with him. No matter how I try to convince myself, I can't forget that he's still a dangerous criminal… and possible cannibal…

"Were you serious when you said you wanted to eat me? I can't go forward with you unless I know… "

I hear a deep rumble in his chest as he draws me closer, our faces only inches away… "No, I've never actually eaten anyone… Now answer my original question, Riolu… and for once, give me a straight answer: do you want to be with me?"

In all honesty, I can't trust this man, but I also can't deny the intense rush of lust that surges through me every time I look at him. So on a total leap of faith, I tell him the truth.

"I want you so much, it terrifies me… Please… help me… I don't know what to do."

"Let me show you…" He grins wickedly, bending to lick a trail along the column of my neck, his slightly barbed tongue sending all kinds of delicious shivers coursing through me as I consider his wicked intentions…

"Wait, Waylon! We really need to go slow though! You're my first… boyfriend…" My voice trails off as his hands stop caressing me for a moment. Wait, what was I trying to do again?

"I won't fuck you tonight… And know that I ain't gonna force myself on you but… maybe I could show you what to expect…? " His sentence sharply veers into a question towards the end; his expression is uncertain as he looks me over, looking almost diffident.

My stomach tingles a little, with anticipation or fear, I cannot tell. But he gives me a particular look… his expression once again soft despite his jagged features, and I find myself back within his embrace.

Our mouths meet in an expression of unfettered lust, the soft flesh of my lips bruising against the force of his sharp teeth and rough scales… Any yet… I want more… so much more. I angle my head to deepen our kiss, my tongue hesitantly seeking his.

I hear a deep rumbling in his chest and in the blink of an eye; I'm laid out flat on my back. He crawls over me, pinning me into the mattress.

"No rushing, bride. Tonight's all about takin' it slow… and I'm going to take hours learnin' your body."

A/N: Yeah, this didn't need much rewriting. Only small critical stuff. Plz Review! J