11. Eleven Cam
Eleven: Cam
T he last of the beer slid down my throat, its bitterness mixing with the metallic tang of blood in the air. A pleasant buzz hummed through my veins as I watched Lakey glance down at our clothes, spattered with crimson evidence of our latest... indulgence.
"Well, this is a mess," she giggled, her light blue eyes twinkling with an eerie innocence that never failed to stir something primal in me.
I couldn't help but smirk. Here we were, covered in the Rat King’s blood, and she looked as carefree as if we'd just spilled ketchup on ourselves at a picnic. The casualness of it all was fucking hilarious.
"Think we should wipe this off before it stains?" Lakey asked, her voice dripping with a sweetness that belied the darkness of her words. "Blood's such a pain to get out of fabric, you know."
I nodded. "Wouldn't want to ruin our Sunday best," I drawled, setting down my empty bottle next to the sink and opening the drawer where we kept the washcloths. My movements were smooth, deliberate – no rush, no panic. Just another night for Cam and Lakey.
As I rummaged through the drawer, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror above. Dark eyes stared back at me, alive with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The rush of our earlier activities was still thrumming through me, but now a different kind of hunger was building. The kitchen sink ran hot as I pushed my hand through the water. I wet the towels and headed back into the living room.
I turned toward to Lakes, washcloths in hand, drinking in the sight of her. The way the blood accentuated the curve of her neck, how it made the scar on her collarbone stand out... Christ, she was a work of art.
"Your wish is my command, darlin'," I said, tossing her a cloth. "Let's get cleaned up."
I watched as she caught the washcloth, her sky-blue eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and desire. She slowly peeled off her blood-soaked top, revealing the intricate map of scars across her torso. Part of the missing pieces she needed to string together.
"Like what you see, Cam?" she purred, trailing her fingertips down her body, pausing to squeeze on her small tits before pinching a nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
I didn't answer, just started stripping off my own clothes. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. As I wiped the blood from my chest, I noticed Lakey's gaze following my movements, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
"C'mere," I growled, closing the distance between us.
I ran the damp cloth along her collarbone, down her sternum. Each stroke was deliberate, sensual. Lakey's breath hitched as I cleaned her.
"You missed a spot," she whispered, guiding my hand lower.
My cock twitched in response. The room suddenly felt too small, too hot. I could feel the familiar burn of desire building in my gut, my cock already hard for her.
Lakey must have sensed the shift because before I knew it, she was on her knees, looking up at me with those big, innocent eyes that I knew were anything but.
"Let me take care of you, Cam," she said, her voice melting with sweetness.
I tangled my fingers in her hair as she took me in her mouth. Fuck, the sight of her like this – it was better than any kill, any high. This was our bond, twisted and dark as it was. As Lakey worked her magic, I couldn't help but think how fucked up it was that this – her on her knees, blood still drying on our skin – felt more like home than anything else in this godforsaken world.
I gripped the back of her head, guiding her movements as she worked her mouth around me. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body.
"That's it, baby," I growled, my voice low and husky. "Just like that."
As I watched her, I couldn't help but marvel at the contradiction she embodied. To the world, she was a vicious killer, cold and unfeeling. But here, on her knees for me, she was soft, pliant, almost vulnerable. It was a side of her only I got to see, and the possessiveness that knowledge sparked in me was intoxicating.
"Fuck, Lakey," I hissed, feeling the pressure building. "You're gonna make me—"
I pulled away abruptly, my breath coming in short pants. Lakey looked up at me, confusion and desire warring in her eyes.
"Cam?" she questioned, her voice breathy.
Without a word, I hauled her to her feet and bent her over the arm of the couch. The transition was seamless, charged with an urgent energy that crackled between us.
"Hold on tight, sweetheart," I murmured, positioning myself behind her. "This is gonna be a wild ride."
I thrust into her with a primal growl, her warmth enveloping me as we connected. Lakey's scream of pleasure echoed through the room, raw and unrestrained. My hands gripped her hips, fingertips digging into her soft flesh as I set a punishing rhythm.
"Fuck, Cam!" she cried out, her voice breaking. "Don't stop!"
The sound of her desperation fueled my desire, pushing me to drive deeper, harder. I leaned over her, my chest pressed against her back, and whispered in her ear, "You're mine, Lakey. All mine."
She whimpered in response, her body trembling beneath me. I could feel her tightening around me, her pleasure building in tandem with my own. The primal connection between us was electric, a twisted dance of love and violence that defined our relationship.
As I felt myself nearing the edge, I reached around to stroke her, determined to bring her over with me. "Come for me, baby," I demanded, my voice rough with exertion.
Lakey's screams reached a fever pitch as she shattered, her release triggering my own. We rode out the waves of pleasure together, our bodies intertwined in a moment of perfect, chaotic harmony.
Afterward, I pulled out and patted her pussy with a satisfied smirk. "Hold it in, sweetheart," I commanded playfully.
She rolled her eyes but clenched obediently, turning around to sit on the couch, sticking her legs in the air sarcastically. "You're such an asshole," she muttered, but there was no real heat in her words.
I chuckled, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. "You love it."
She didn't deny it, just shot me a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection. Eventually she got bored and jumped up. She sauntered across the room, her hips swaying with each step. Turning into our bedroom, drawers were pulled out as she rummaged around for fresh clothes. Within a couple of minutes, she walked back out, tossing me some pants and a black tee. I watched, mesmerized, as she slipped into a black spaghetti strap top, her scars catching the dim light. No bra, of course. My girl knew how to keep me on edge.
As I tugged the black V-neck over my head, my mind wandered to the first time I'd seen Lakey. We were just kids then, scared and angry in that shithole foster home. But even then, there was something in her eyes – a darkness that matched my own.
"What's going on in that twisted mind of yours?" Lakey asked, sidling up to me.
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "Just thinking about how far we've come, sweetheart. From those fucked-up kids to... well, these fucked-up adults."
She laughed, a sound that was both melodic and slightly unhinged. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Cam. You and me against the world, remember?"
I nodded, feeling a rare moment of... not quite tenderness, but something close. "Always, baby. Now, let's go raise some hell."
I flicked off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. The familiar click of the deadbolt echoed as Lakey locked the door behind us. It was almost comical how normal it felt – like we were heading out for a fucking picnic instead of whatever shit show awaited us.
"You got the keys?" I asked, patting my pockets.
Lakey dangled them in front of me, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "What would you do without me, baby?"
I snatched them from her hand, letting my fingers linger on hers. "Probably be a lot less homicidal, for starters."
She laughed, that musical sound that always sent a shiver down my spine. "Oh please, you were plenty fucked up before you met me."
"True," I conceded, leading the way down the stairs. "But you certainly helped perfect the art."
Down in the parking garage, the cool night air hit us like a slap to the face. Our bikes gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, twin beacons of freedom and danger. I swung my leg over mine, feeling that familiar thrill as the engine roared to life.
“I wanna ride with you tonight.” She said, waiting for me to pat the seat.
Lakey climbed on behind me, adjusting her helmet, her body molding perfectly against my back. Her arms snaked around my waist, hands splaying across my abs. "Ready when you are, big guy," she whispered in my ear.
I revved the engine, feeling her grip tighten. "Hold on tight, sweetheart.”
As we tore off into the night, the wind whipping past us, I couldn't help but grin. There was no one here to stop us. No one to tell us what to do, or how to feel. No one to inflict pain on us. Just the road and the freedom to exact revenge however we saw fit.
The roar of the engine echoed through the empty streets, a primal scream cutting through the silent night. Lakey's arms tightened around me as we leaned into a sharp turn, her breath hot against my back.
"You think they'll be ready for us?" she shouted over the wind.
I laughed, dark and low. "Oh, baby girl, nobody's ever ready for us."
The old mill loomed ahead, a hulking shadow against the starlit sky. My pulse quickened, that familiar rush of adrenaline flooding my veins. Hopefully, we can find something here that we need.
As we approached the dilapidated structure, I cut the engine, letting us coast silently into the shadows. The weight of what we were about to do settled over us, plunging us into contemplative silence. But hell, we'd been carrying that weight our whole lives.
Lakey slid off the bike as I parked, her eyes gleaming with that manic light I knew all too well. "Ready to raise some hell, baby?"
I grinned, feeling that familiar darkness rise within me. "Always."
With one last shared look – a promise, a threat, a fucked-up declaration of love – we moved towards the building. The night held its breath, waiting for the chaos we were about to unleash.