Again with the lateness. I apologize. And instead of thanking all of those beyond awesome people that reviewed (you know who you are *throws gang signs *) I'd like to call for a moment of silence for Victor and Logan who passed away yesterday. You read that right. I found my bunnies dead outside yesterday. To say it was a coincidence that two plastic bags made their way through mesh woven so tight it was absolutely impossible for any animal to get out or in, and managed to land over two bunny heads… Well. I am in full Hulk smash mode, Victor would be proud if he was here right now. I doubt he'd help me kill bunny killers, but maybe he would just for the sake of killing. And one of them was named after him after all. Not because he was a bit taller and had shorter hair than Logan and definitely not because he kept teasing Logan or refused to let anyone near him (but me. Of course. I have a degree in Feralogy.). Noo. Logan now got his name because he had mutton chops, a very interesting hairdo, was absolutely grumpy and liked to jump the females. Yep. That was them. Now let's put that violin away and update already. It's still Monday in some parts of the world!

Do not own Victor but one day I just might. Don't sue, don't own, don't make money, am still broke.

Warning. Chapter contains semi-consensual sex. Be warningly warned. (I know that you are now hurrying on to the story you perverts.)

I pick myself up from the floor and walk up the stairs. I don't even bother with the remains of the undershirt, there is no way in hell anyone could piece that back together, unless you are one of those people that like stuff with lots of glitter and tattoo motives, there is a stereotype I will not touch right now.

Upstairs he is nowhere to be seen. Cocking my head I try to listen for any sign of him and there it is. He's upstairs, in his bedroom I guess. Assholes have bedrooms, too. He is moving around and I hear… It's a laptop I think. He's fiddling around with it so he's probably busy scheming or wants to log on to Creepbook or whatever it is that crazy ferals do in their spare time. Don't ask me, I'm the noob here. There is another undershirt on the backrest of a chair and I pull it over my head. I might as well get used to wearing clothes again.

My eyes fall on the huge sliding door that leads to the backyard. Haven't noticed it before, I was busy bleeding, eating or whatever else there was, that is a fairly decent sized yard. Also equipped with a high fence, neighbours could see the naked chick with the collar being beaten around. I carefully walk over and try the handle. It doesn't even creak, that is wonderful. So I push open the door and hurry outside as quickly as I can.

My feet touch the grass and that is when I notice two things.

My senses are fully there. And Victor has had something done to the house to soundproof it. Kids are screaming, dogs are barking, I can hear all sorts of animals, engines, appliances, people. There is somebody somewhere talking on the phone and that woman has the shrillest laugh. At the same time scents bombard me. Animals, people, food, garbage cans, the sewers… I might be sick any second. Sensory overload doesn't begin to describe this. It's like someone cranking up the volume of a radio very high before looking for a station, that annoying white noise… Add a gang of screaming kids to that and you have a faint idea of the pain my ears are in right now. Somehow I fell to the floor and I am curling up, trying to cover my ears with my hands. This is terrible! I bury my nose in the grass, I don't give a fuck about inhaling ants, the grass and the soil are balm to my nose and do a lot to weaken the other scents trying to invade my consciousness.

The ground is somehow vibrating, at least my mind tries to tell me that it is-I think it really is, faintly. I mostly just hear footsteps through all the other sounds. Can all this stop already? Did I just whimper? There's the lifting up again, claws dig into my sides. I can smell someone in the vicinity having sex, somebody has just opened a bag of chips, let's hope it isn't the same people, then again, why not combine two fun things even if you get crumbs stuck in places you don't want em? I bury my face in Victor's shirt, that scent is for once way better than all that goes on out here. I try to focus on his heartbeat, how can it be so slow? He must be angry with me, after all I tried to run. He's probably so used to anger that it is his natural state and does nothing to his heartbeat. I can't smell anger on him though. Not much. I guess. I need to attend Scents 101 soon. Right after the world stops being so awfully loud and smelly.

Victor finds himself facing a hazy memory of him carrying Jimmy after his mutation suddenly fully kicked in, he had been about fourteen back then. And they had been in the woods near a small village, back then there weren't as many people around and of course not all those machines. He had learned to drown them out, the fact that he had been around before them and gradually got used to them worked in his favor. There was not a grain of Victor Creed that was capable of compassion or pity, but there was little anger at her attempted escape. She would be stupid if she hadn't seized the moment, and he had been in his room watching her with great amusement. After all he knew what it was like for him to leave this carefully prepared house and being pummelled with all the sensations-she had been inside ever since the effects of the drugs had worn off.

"Make some lunch, pet."

"What? We just had breakfast."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, go cook."

The intense scents of the food would help her get rid off everything that had piled up in those short moments she had been outside and he had to come up with something to slowly get her used to it. The idea of making her his personal little project was very appealing, and the first step towards that would be to release Rick; he would run straight to her father with the news that Victor Creed held his daughter captive. There was little to no information on the drugs they had fed her, it was an underground test thing and even with his connections it had been hard to gather any information. It was available to few and apparently Ari had it tested on himself and on his daughter first, it seemed that had been his main goal all along. To make it seem like he and his daughter were human.

There were few things that Victor found repulsive, and this was one of them.

Obviously the effect had been wearing off ever since he kidnapped her and it was also rather obvious that her mutation was similar to her mother, a canine, rather than feline like her father, though curiously enough there were a few feline traits to her, too much for a canine. She lacked the agility of a feline and was obviously not very strong, though that might change now that her diet had improved. Her senses seemed to be sharper than his and he was curious to see if there were other things lying dormant. Her hair had gotten noticeably darker now, as had her eyes-for a while, when she still looked more like her father, he had been willing to bet that she would turn out to be a feline like him.

She was busy preparing steak and some vegetables she had found in the freezer, it was all simmering on the stove and she bent down to pick up something off the floor. The hem of his undershirt rose just enough to give him a teasing glimpse at her exposed folds and he growled. Her earlier display of savage rage was still very vivid in his head and he had found it strangely arousing. She got back up and glancds his way with a wicked grin. Of course she could smell it on him, and she did this deliberately. Maybe it was time he really showed her who was boss.

I can't help but feel smug. His scent shifted, and how it did! He does smell intense when he gets horny, that sick old…

There's a sudden rush of movement and I find myself pressed against the kitchen cabinet, face down on the countertop and his hand on my neck. A strange feeling spreads throughout my body, as if I should roll over or something, that has to be my newfound animalistic side wanting to give in to his display of dominance. In his dreams.

And, even though I wouldn't want to say that out loud, in a few of mine, too.

"So I was right, you only get off when you get to be violent. I'd rather fuck Pete, who you so carelessly killed."

He growls and his claws now really dig into my skin just as he grinds into my ass. There is a little, perverted part of me that is doing a happy dance at what I'm feeling back there. But no sane woman would want to get down and dirty with Mr. Whiskers. I mean, dirty here equals bloody, that is for sure. There is a certain quote by Marquis de Sade that comes to mind but I refuse…

"It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure."

Oh, fuck him. Why is he suddenly one who reads books? And why is he close to my ear again? This number is getting old. His free hand cups my ass and again I feel claws pierce my skin.

"You just made a mistake, Mr. Creed."

"And what would that be, pet?"

He sounds like he is having a lot of fun right now.

"You gave off the impression that you like to read. One could assume you had a brain."

He doesn't respond, at least not with words. My ass gets cold, I hear alarming sounds and moments later I get confirmation for what I suspected, feared, when he plunges into me without warning. Biting back a scream I hold completely still. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of howling in pain, he'll just like it. And it doesn't hurt that much, I was just surprised, that's all. Unfortunately my asshole of a body was more than ready for this. It responds to his presence far more than I would like it to. Not a constant state but almost there. Ever since I have come to terms with the fact that I am a mutant I have noticed that I am almost constantly ready to jump his bones when he's around. It's like a pot on a stove set on a very low simmer. Very annoying.

And while I am busy ranting away in my head he keeps pounding into me and I just refuse to acknowledge the fact that I am pushing back, eagerly awaiting his thrusts. Once again I am merely a spectator, withdrawn inside my head. Another part of me seems to really enjoy this because I suspect that panting sound is coming from my mouth. So is that moan. I sound terrible, not like me at all. Victor climaxes with a roar and lets go of me instantly, withdrawing himself and pulling his pants back up.

"Congrats, that was the worst fuck of my life."

He grabs my neck again and spins me around, now he does look pissed.

"Will you ever learn to shut your fucking mouth."

It is not a real question but it does call for a response.

"No."

Weird, huh. They're animals after all, somehow. And please do not think Victor enjoyed this in any way, it was purely to assert his dominance and insist on the alpha status in this not quite pack. Men, I know. One might stop and think about the animal kingdom. Usually it is the females that lead… Just a thought for you to ponder until next week.

Before I forget. I am looking for a beta for another story I might or might not publish in the (not too) distant future. Victor, Team X, not-really-romance-but-you-know-how-Victor-gets? Anyone? PM me.