Killer Dreams
He'd never gone begging for it, not since he'd first picked up a knife. But here he was, following in the footsteps of – what amounted to a well-spring of sexuality – and he wasn't getting any. The blue-clad demi-goddess ahead of him walked with all the coolness of an ice maiden straight out of those Viking myths. Not like the other one, the crimson-clad whore from Chicago. Now her he'd like to tumble, offering her a choice between roughnesses; had in fact dreamed it the other night while listening to her breathing in the chair next to his – the soft susurration and the rise and fall of her bosom giving rise to his own personal brand of sex fantasies. He's smiled to himself most of the night after seeing that vision of loveliness next to him and dreamed of banging her good. Ah, what the fuck, she was probably as cold as she was lovely, but Lady now...
His thoughts went skewing to the left, tripping down a path he'd wandered before; well-worn in fact by now. The two of them, naked on a bed in some hotel, his body – hard and strong and firm, hovering over her like a vulture and she – opening to him, giving him everything he wanted, needed, desired, until there was nothing left of her or him. That was the part that usually had him sitting up with sweat dripping down his face, the end of his life, his existence, in the cold arms of Lady. He didn't fear death, oh no – he sent enough people to Death's realm that he was sure he'd be made a prince of Hell when he came knocking. But oblivion? Why did fucking Lady always end in oblivion?
Because she'd blast my sorry ass to atoms and that's a fact, he thought. Might be fun, but damned sure it's a one-way trip.
So now, walking behind her, watching the gentle swish of her fine ass, and smelling the tang of her - no longer masked by the overpowering scent that was Edna Good riddance, bitch! – he let the tantalizing thought once more play through his mind. He could do it here, now, right beside that pillar. Or beside that stone wall. Or damnit, right here and now on the ground... Just let me fuck you, damn it! The heat of the South American Summer was sweltering and the underground caverns were stifling, and his body – hot, sweaty and –damn it! – ready for sex, was yearning for some body to body action. But no! No, he had to help her, protect her and stop that little dwarf Gilbert from even thinking of putting his mutant hands on her. And the violence of the thought made his body pulse even tighter and his groin ached for the fulfillment he knew he wouldn't have today.
I gotta kill me somebody ... and soon.