Title: Suck and Blow
Author: TangleToy or Tangles
E-mail: tangles@subreality.com or tangletoy@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Bottom feeding as an art form, a young girl hunts up dinner.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel mutant universe. However, I play in it whenever I find an open door or turned back. Kielle and Phil Foster created the TCP concept, and a lovely thanks to them. I'm making nothing on the creation or distribution of this work. Not only am I making nothing on the story, but my ass is now asleep from sitting in this chair, and I'm afraid to move for the pins and needles feeling there to follow.
Story Notes: This all came about while I was reading some issues of Excalibur. There was a character in there that fed on Brian Braddock's anger. I thought it was a neat concept and put my own spin on it.
Author Notes: Thank you to my betas: Duey, WinterOak, and Fionny. You've been added to the beta shrine for regular care and worship. :)
Suck and Blow
By TangleToy
Ceara moved along the city street, weaving between the pedestrians like a wolf ranging the back woods between the bracken of his trails. She was hungry and hunting in the same way as a wild thing, though to keep her sanity she didn't liken herself to a beast.
'I'm not an animal,' she told herself as she eyed those around her through lowered lashes. Something darker inside her answered, 'No, you're much worse.' She eyed her too-innocent reflection in the mirrored sunglasses of a passing executive. Pretty pixie, sweet blonde princess, and the apple of her parents' eyes, she was like a cute harmless kitten. No one expected she was anything other than a little dear. Deer. Sheep. Ceara leered after to small girl following her mother's skirt. These people were food and they didn't even know it.
The dirty film over life in the city was like a sweet glaze on good meat. The girl smiled at a passing nun, and thought even she looked good on a day like today. Today was a hungry day. Ceara hadn't eaten in a while. She had kept it in, letting the hunger gnaw on her guts until her belly spoke in the louder tones she often avoided. The adults in her life fussed over her habits, and she always had the extra cream, leg of chicken, or bowl of pasta, but she remained so thin. The stuff offered on the table never compared to what she was truly famished for.
Over the sound of endlessly drumming feet came the first violent wave of words. Up ahead, a man and woman stood fighting, letting the crowd part around them like an uncaring river flowing around a jutting boulder. Their words held no meaning, but she could sense the rising swell of feeling underneath. Around them, there churned unrest and anger, with a swirling heat of embarrassment and peevishness. It smelled like warm honey and moved thickly through her. "Mmm," she moaned low closing her eyes. Something so primal and orgasmic passed over her face that people moved out of her way in a horror they couldn't articulate but felt in their groins. Old men kept in dark thoughts of leather and red welts, and old women swished their hips in ways long forgot. All the negative, bleak, and horrid parts of each person's psyche tumbled from the passing mobs, pulled in part by the argument between the lovers on the street and from the greedy look in the eye of the teen watching them. This roiling stewpot was what she consisted on. This would feed her nicely for enough time to forget its truth.
'I have to remember to only sip this time,' she reminded herself. She flashed on the memory of a boy at school and of his face gripped between strong hands, a look of dawning horror turning to utter bliss. She had fed deeply on his dark needs and resentments, lancing him and draining his pustulant insides like a boil until there was nothing left but a drooling idiot on too much Xanax. She had to be more careful this time. There couldn't be any questions asked.
The lovers moved forward down the busy path ignoring that they weren't alone, oblivious to the fact she followed. They were wounded prey bleeding out their hurts and angers behind them, leaving a bloody trail for Ceara to trail in her loping gait. As she moved closer and then further away, she held out a hand to gather the first tingling flavors of what lay beneath. Shivers of excitement and pleasure traveled through her small frame. She watched as the fight escalated, the lovers shimmering like sugar caught by the sun. Her stomach grumbled, and the city slowly dissolved to a hazy of noise and ruined watercolor around her, while the two bodies she carefully chased grew sharper in contrast.
Ceara quickened her step when the young man pulled his companion into the passing alleyway, and she ducked after them, ready to feed. However, the sight around the corner wasn't what she expected. The lovers were clinched in a grinding display of blazing passion and love, grinding franticly like in heat. Her temper seethed, and she shook with rage at being denied and forced to hunt again. It was getting dark, and she was hungry now. She railed at their ego in not offering up their throats to her teeth. Sharp pain brought focus, and she realized that her jaw was clenched and her teeth were grinding in time to their bodies.
Determined not to be thwarted, she reached out with the crude empathy she possessed and pried open the couple's most secret emotions until she found the pet peeves, petty jealousies, insecurities, and violent thoughts. She found them buried beneath the joys, small fragrant mushrooms in the dark hearts of passionate souls. Then she forcefully cultured them, feed them, and twisted them to the surface. At the first sugar-like glimmer, she pounced. Gone was the thought to pull back. Gone was any thought at all. Ceara just wanted them like an animal wants to feel tendons pop at its closing jaws. She was hungry, and they were food.
She felt some guilt as their bodies slid down the wall to puddle at her feet in sacks of boneless orgasmic bliss. "Maybe your bodies will be found by night fall," she offered in a whisper as she propped them up. "You know, before it gets too cold." Ceara studied their slack faces written over in unseen ecstasies, and then spread some old newspapers over them, as if she was tucking in children. She was the wolf offering a small kindness to Grandma after dealing evil to her house.
Ceara slipped back into the ever-flowing stream of people. No one noticed one more in their swelling number. She shrugged down into her shoulders, bearing her skin like sheep's wool over something more her own skin. A rain started to fall, soft and cold, and she felt the heavier for it.
~fin~
Author: TangleToy or Tangles
E-mail: tangles@subreality.com or tangletoy@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Bottom feeding as an art form, a young girl hunts up dinner.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel mutant universe. However, I play in it whenever I find an open door or turned back. Kielle and Phil Foster created the TCP concept, and a lovely thanks to them. I'm making nothing on the creation or distribution of this work. Not only am I making nothing on the story, but my ass is now asleep from sitting in this chair, and I'm afraid to move for the pins and needles feeling there to follow.
Story Notes: This all came about while I was reading some issues of Excalibur. There was a character in there that fed on Brian Braddock's anger. I thought it was a neat concept and put my own spin on it.
Author Notes: Thank you to my betas: Duey, WinterOak, and Fionny. You've been added to the beta shrine for regular care and worship. :)
Suck and Blow
By TangleToy
Ceara moved along the city street, weaving between the pedestrians like a wolf ranging the back woods between the bracken of his trails. She was hungry and hunting in the same way as a wild thing, though to keep her sanity she didn't liken herself to a beast.
'I'm not an animal,' she told herself as she eyed those around her through lowered lashes. Something darker inside her answered, 'No, you're much worse.' She eyed her too-innocent reflection in the mirrored sunglasses of a passing executive. Pretty pixie, sweet blonde princess, and the apple of her parents' eyes, she was like a cute harmless kitten. No one expected she was anything other than a little dear. Deer. Sheep. Ceara leered after to small girl following her mother's skirt. These people were food and they didn't even know it.
The dirty film over life in the city was like a sweet glaze on good meat. The girl smiled at a passing nun, and thought even she looked good on a day like today. Today was a hungry day. Ceara hadn't eaten in a while. She had kept it in, letting the hunger gnaw on her guts until her belly spoke in the louder tones she often avoided. The adults in her life fussed over her habits, and she always had the extra cream, leg of chicken, or bowl of pasta, but she remained so thin. The stuff offered on the table never compared to what she was truly famished for.
Over the sound of endlessly drumming feet came the first violent wave of words. Up ahead, a man and woman stood fighting, letting the crowd part around them like an uncaring river flowing around a jutting boulder. Their words held no meaning, but she could sense the rising swell of feeling underneath. Around them, there churned unrest and anger, with a swirling heat of embarrassment and peevishness. It smelled like warm honey and moved thickly through her. "Mmm," she moaned low closing her eyes. Something so primal and orgasmic passed over her face that people moved out of her way in a horror they couldn't articulate but felt in their groins. Old men kept in dark thoughts of leather and red welts, and old women swished their hips in ways long forgot. All the negative, bleak, and horrid parts of each person's psyche tumbled from the passing mobs, pulled in part by the argument between the lovers on the street and from the greedy look in the eye of the teen watching them. This roiling stewpot was what she consisted on. This would feed her nicely for enough time to forget its truth.
'I have to remember to only sip this time,' she reminded herself. She flashed on the memory of a boy at school and of his face gripped between strong hands, a look of dawning horror turning to utter bliss. She had fed deeply on his dark needs and resentments, lancing him and draining his pustulant insides like a boil until there was nothing left but a drooling idiot on too much Xanax. She had to be more careful this time. There couldn't be any questions asked.
The lovers moved forward down the busy path ignoring that they weren't alone, oblivious to the fact she followed. They were wounded prey bleeding out their hurts and angers behind them, leaving a bloody trail for Ceara to trail in her loping gait. As she moved closer and then further away, she held out a hand to gather the first tingling flavors of what lay beneath. Shivers of excitement and pleasure traveled through her small frame. She watched as the fight escalated, the lovers shimmering like sugar caught by the sun. Her stomach grumbled, and the city slowly dissolved to a hazy of noise and ruined watercolor around her, while the two bodies she carefully chased grew sharper in contrast.
Ceara quickened her step when the young man pulled his companion into the passing alleyway, and she ducked after them, ready to feed. However, the sight around the corner wasn't what she expected. The lovers were clinched in a grinding display of blazing passion and love, grinding franticly like in heat. Her temper seethed, and she shook with rage at being denied and forced to hunt again. It was getting dark, and she was hungry now. She railed at their ego in not offering up their throats to her teeth. Sharp pain brought focus, and she realized that her jaw was clenched and her teeth were grinding in time to their bodies.
Determined not to be thwarted, she reached out with the crude empathy she possessed and pried open the couple's most secret emotions until she found the pet peeves, petty jealousies, insecurities, and violent thoughts. She found them buried beneath the joys, small fragrant mushrooms in the dark hearts of passionate souls. Then she forcefully cultured them, feed them, and twisted them to the surface. At the first sugar-like glimmer, she pounced. Gone was the thought to pull back. Gone was any thought at all. Ceara just wanted them like an animal wants to feel tendons pop at its closing jaws. She was hungry, and they were food.
She felt some guilt as their bodies slid down the wall to puddle at her feet in sacks of boneless orgasmic bliss. "Maybe your bodies will be found by night fall," she offered in a whisper as she propped them up. "You know, before it gets too cold." Ceara studied their slack faces written over in unseen ecstasies, and then spread some old newspapers over them, as if she was tucking in children. She was the wolf offering a small kindness to Grandma after dealing evil to her house.
Ceara slipped back into the ever-flowing stream of people. No one noticed one more in their swelling number. She shrugged down into her shoulders, bearing her skin like sheep's wool over something more her own skin. A rain started to fall, soft and cold, and she felt the heavier for it.
~fin~