Chapter 17 #2
So I run. Across the car, leaping the gap to the next one, releasing shrieking cackles into the dark. The metal clangs under me like a drum. Behind me, Skully follows, muttering curses that sound suspiciously like don’t fall, don’t fall.
I vault another gap, arms pinwheeling, lungs on fire, laughing like a banshee because I can. Because the night is ours and the whole yard is a graveyard dance floor.
Then he catches me.
One hand snags the back of my thigh mid-leap, the other clamping my waist, and suddenly I’m yanked backward into him, chest to chest, momentum slamming us both backwards against the cold steel. The clang echoes down the line of cars like a warning bell.
“Got you,” he growls, teeth flashing, eyes wild. The laugh is gone. The smirk is gone. What’s left is something rawer, hungrier, and it burns straight through me.
I wriggle half-heartedly, pretending to resist, but his grip tightens. His breath ghosts hot against my ear. “Run all you want, Baby. I’ll always catch you.”
My pulse is a jackhammer under his thumb where it presses my wrist. My thighs clench around his hips without permission. The paint smell is dizzying, but the only thing I can taste is him—smoke, metal, adrenaline.
He pins me harder against the car, the vibration rattling through my spine. His forehead drops to mine, almost a headbutt, almost a kiss. His voice comes out shredded. “You drive me fucking insane.”
“Good,” I whisper, and it breaks him.
The kiss is teeth first, followed by punishment and confession. He kisses messily, furiously, like he’s mad at himself for wanting me this much. His hands climb everywhere at once—waist, thigh, tangled in my hair—while I claw at his jacket, greedy and laughing into his mouth.
The glow sticks below flicker, painting us in sickly green halos, saints of vandalism, crowned in chaos.
And for the first time tonight, there’s no joke left in him. Just need.
The kiss spirals meaner, wetter, until I’m dizzy from it. He tastes like smoke and rust, like paint fumes and bad ideas, and I want to drown in him. His hands bite into my hips, urging, warning, claiming all at once.
He shoves his jacket off, half feral, and drags me onto his lap before I can blink.
Suddenly I’m straddling him, skirt rucked up, tights torn, his grip on my ass bruising as he drags me down against the now exposed thick, hard line of him.
The train groans under us, a witness to his hungry efficiency.
“Go on then,” he says, almost mocking, almost begging. “Show me you can ride.”
I sink onto him in one sharp, unstoppable push, and the world detonates. He’s so deep it feels like he’s punching holes through my soul. My nails scrape his shoulders, desperate.
I try to set the rhythm—fast, greedy, mine—but his hands seize my hips in an ironclad grip, forcing me to move at his pace. Slow. Grinding. Each thrust a taunt. Each drag a promise. My body fights him, bucks, writhes, but he just smirks through clenched teeth, sweat shining across his temple.
“Not so fast, Baby,” he growls, jaw tight as I pulse around him. “You don’t get to run this time.”
The glow sticks flicker below, throwing us into sick halos of green, like the whole yard is watching us crown each other in chaos. My moans echo sharp off the cars, mixing with his curses, his laughter gone ragged.
I bite his neck, sharp enough to sting, and he chokes on a laugh, shoving me down harder. “Fuck—yeah, just like that. Ride me. But don’t forget-” his lips brush my ear, filthy, reverent, “-I’m still the one keeping you here.”
And I believe him, because his grip never falters, because every slam of his hips reminds me who’s in charge even when I’m on top, because I can feel him unraveling under me but somehow still holding the reins.
I want to claw him bloody and worship him in the same breath.
And when he finally snaps, when the control breaks and he ruts up into me wild and messy, it feels like the whole train yard is collapsing around us, glow sticks burning out, graffiti screaming our names back in crooked letters.
One second he’s dragging me slow, making me move to his tempo, and the next he’s slamming up into me so hard the whole car shakes. The steel beneath us shrieks, rattling like it’s about to collapse, but I can’t hear anything except my own strangled moans and his guttural curses.
“Fuck, Baby-” his voice is wrecked, shredded to wire. His hands clamp down on my hips hard enough that I’ll wear his fingerprints like bruised tattoos tomorrow. He uses me, pounds up into me, faster, rougher, each thrust brutal, punishing, perfect.
I claw at his shoulders, desperate, manic, laughing between gasps because it’s too much, it’s exactly enough, it’s everything. “Jesus-”
“Don’t say his name,” he growls, teeth scraping my throat as he bites down hard, marking me. “Say mine. You gave it to me, it’s mine. Say it!”
“Skully,” I choke, louder, shameless.
He flips me over onto the cold steel, not even breaking the rhythm, just manhandling me onto my back while staying buried inside me.
My skirt’s bunched to my waist, tights ripped wide, my legs spread open over his hips.
He braces one hand on the metal, the other pinning my throat, using it as a handle to force my body to meet every thrust.
“Look at you,” he snarls, eyes blown wide, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. “On top of a fucking train, screaming for me. You wanted this chaos, Baby? You got it.”
His hips piston harder, brutal, relentless.
Every thrust scrapes me raw in the best way, sparks lighting in my veins, my back arching off the metal with each slam.
He doesn’t let up, doesn’t give me an inch.
His thumb presses at my throat, pulse wild under his palm, while his mouth drags bruises down my collarbone.
My nails tear at his shirt, at his skin beneath. “More—fuck—please-”
“Yeah?” His laugh is broken glass, cruel and desperate all at once. He pulls me up by the throat just enough to spit the words against my lips. “You take every inch of me, Baby. Every. Fucking. Inch.”
And then he drives into me harder than I thought possible, brutal rhythm turning frantic and desperate, like he’s trying to fuck the whole world out of existence and leave only us behind.
The glow sticks below flicker, before dying out. The train groans, the steel screaming as the night holds its breath.
And Skully pounds me through it all, brutal, beautiful, and mine.
The steel roof is cold against my back, but Skully’s heat burns through every inch of me until I’m shaking apart. Then, with a guttural curse, he tears out of me just long enough to flip me like a ragdoll.
My knees slam the steel, palms splayed, skirt still rucked up, tights in ribbons. Before I can even catch my breath, he’s shoving into me from behind in one brutal thrust that knocks the scream right out of my lungs.
“Fuck-” I gasp, forehead hitting the metal.
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until my spine arches sharp. “Louder,” he snarls in my ear, hips pistoning, unrelenting. “Let the world hear what you sound like when I ruin you.”
Every thrust is vicious, driving me forward on the slick metal, the sound of my body taking him echoing through the night like obscene applause. He slaps my ass, hard, the crack bouncing down the line of cars. I cry out, half-pain, half-pleasure, in feral glee.
“You like that, Baby?” His voice is shredded, manic, riding the edge of laughter and a growl. He jerks my hair harder, pulling me upright and forcing me to take every brutal inch of him. “You want me to be mean?”
“Yes—fuck, yes!” My nails scrabble uselessly against steel, paint still smeared across my skin like war paint.
He groans low, teeth sinking into the side of my neck, and pounds harder, deeper, like he’s trying to break me open. His free hand wraps around my throat from behind, not choking, just owning, keeping me right where he wants me.
“You’re mine up here,” he rasps, biting every word into my skin. “On my train. On my cock. You don’t fucking move unless I say.”
Another slap, sharper, and I moan like a prayer. My thighs quake, every nerve lit, every brutal snap of his hips a demand I can’t deny.
I’m gone, lost, feral, gasping his name into the night.
And Skully? Skully is wrecking me like vandalism incarnate, scrawling his need across my body with every slap, every jerk of my hair, every merciless thrust.
My orgasm hits like a freight train. One brutal thrust, then another, and I’m unraveling, whole body clenching, vision strobing white. My scream rips raw from my throat, bouncing off the steel yard, shattering into the night.
But Skully doesn’t stop.
If anything, the way I spasm around him makes him snarl, makes him drive in harder, faster, like my orgasm is a gauntlet thrown down. His grip on my throat tightens, yanking me back until my spine bows, my chest heaving into the cold air.
“Yeah, that’s it—fuck, that’s it,” he growls, rutting into me mercilessly. “You think you’re done? You don’t get to be done until I say.”
My knees skid on the slick roof, but his hand on my throat keeps me upright and pliant. Every thrust punches another strangled moan out of me, my body overstimulated, trembling, but I can’t pull away. Don’t want to. The pain blurs into more pleasure, sharp and endless.
“Skully—please-” It’s a broken whimper, and I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.
He laughs, ragged and mean, teeth scratching against my ear. “Beg prettier, Baby. I want everyone to know who’s wrecking you.”
I convulse again, body betraying me, another wave crashing through me even as I’m still riding aftershocks of the first. He hisses like I’ve branded him, hips snapping harder, his brutal rhythm chasing me into the ground. My voice shreds and descends into sobbing laughter, gasps, nonsense.
His breath is hot, fast, desperate against my neck, words spit through his teeth with every thrust: “Mine. Mine. Fucking mine.”
The train shakes beneath us. My body shakes above it. Skully holds me there through all of it, brutal and beautiful—like he’s scrawling his name into my bones and daring the world to paint over it.
He shoves my face down, hammering into me so hard I’m nearly bent in half, reaching all sorts of new places inside of me. “Oh—fuck-” I choke, metal groaning under us.
He laughs, breathless, hips snapping brutal into the new angle. Every thrust makes my vision blur, my arms buckle and my whole body a live wire strung between pleasure and collapse.
Wrenching my head to the side, he spits in my mouth when I gasp at the sudden movement. With fire brimming in my veins, I roll his spit on my tongue and go to swallow when his hand darts out to grip my chin almost painfully.
“Keep your mouth open,” he orders, growling against my lips, pounding harder, crueler. “Don’t you dare close it.”
I’m trembling, whimpering, my mouth dutifully staying open even after he removes his grip.
Reaching into my mouth–with the fires of Hell burning in the depths of his eyes–he smears his spit along my tongue with his fingers as he bites his lip, groaning ferally as his cock drives so deep it feels like he’s rearranging me.
Every snap of his hips is punishment. Every slap is a signature.
His possessive gaze a sign that he owns me. Inside and out.
I take it all. Every ounce of pain and pleasure, because I’d rather break apart under him than breathe easy without him.
“Swallow,” He orders as he pinches my clit.
I do and a sob rips out of me—a half scream as another orgasm shatters me. “Skully—please-”
“Pathetic,” he spits, rutting harder, so deep the air leaves my lungs. He slaps my ass again, then again, until I yelp, each crack sharp in the night. “Listen to you—already begging and I’m not done ruining you.”
I scream, my voice ripping raw, bouncing down the line of rusted cars.
He growls, shoves two fingers between my lips, forcing them deep. “Shut up and choke on me. You make too much noise when I’m working.”
I gag around them, drool sliding down my chin, and it only makes him pound harder, rougher, brutal enough the whole car shudders beneath us.
“Good girl,” he hisses, pulling his spit-slick fingers out and smearing them down my face. “Look at you—messy, spread, dripping, begging for more. Filthy little vandal. You’re mine to ruin.”
He thrusts harder, faster, animalistic, his words breaking into snarls between clenched teeth.
Pleasure rips through me again—violent, blinding, the kind of orgasm that tears a scream out of my throat so raw it echoes off the steel yard like sirens.
My ass bucks against him, body convulsing, clenching around him so hard I almost fall flat.
And that’s what does him in.
He slams into me one last brutal time, buried so deep I swear he’s in my bones, and breaks.
A guttural snarl tears out of him as his whole body locks, then shudders, spilling hot inside me, relentless and thick.
He jerks through it, grinding, forcing me to take every last drop as his orgasm tears him apart.
His chest heaves against my back, his breath ragged in my ear, hips still twitching like he doesn’t want to stop, like he can’t. He growls low, filthy and reverent all at once: “Mine.”
And then we collapse together, bodies tangled, sweat and paint smearing into each other, the steel groaning under our weight, the night holding us in its wreckage.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the rasp of our breathing, steam curling in the cold night. Then one hand snakes up my arm, squeezing my own, while his other one splays across my belly as he turns us on our sides.
“Easy,” he mutters, voice wrecked, almost tender. His forehead drops to my shoulder, damp hair sticking to his temple. “Fuck…you almost killed me, Baby.”
I laugh, weak and breathless, and turn just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. He lets me. Doesn’t even smirk.
When he finally pulls back, his thumb drags across my cheek, wiping paint and spit like it matters. His hand trembles, just a little. “Don’t ever run where I can’t catch you,” he says, quiet, like a vow he didn’t mean to let slip.
And for once, I don’t joke. I just nod, lean into his palm, and let the silence close around us like an oath.