Leftovers Ch. 07byLatrani©
Black Dog bent his knees and again snarled at me, dripping spittle into the red pool under his feet. I didn't back away or run. He liked that about me, after all. But when he came at me, I moved, with more speed and luck than I should have possessed.
The monster's claws slashed at the edge of the seat nearest to where I had been standing. I had already jumped back, and now stood, legs slightly apart and hands up. Black Dog's eyes flickered at the challenge. Cautious? I suppose he didn't get many fights.
When he tensed to spring, I reached for my pocket. My old knife slid into my hand, and I flicked it open with an invisible motion. It flashed silver in the bus, and the Dog's eyes moved to it as he came at me. That hesitation cost him, as I lunged forward a step, right between his arms, and reopened half of his warm, damp places right there. I already knew I couldn't stop him, but that wasn't even my intent anymore. All I wanted to do was stretch out the remaining moments.
I pushed the knife into the skin just above his groin and guided it upwards while driving forward with what weight I had. Six inches or so later, the blade and my fingertips slid right in. Hard muscles and soft flesh, so strange.
Black Dog stopped and stared at me. I beamed at him. He was so warm inside that I wanted to just stay right there, not move at all. Instead I twisted the blade and pushed again, hard. I could feel the muscles of his belly shudder at the intrusion. His blood coated my hand, and steam rose between us.
"Bet nobody... does this to you often enough, Doog," I whispered through my teeth. He stared a second longer, then moved his hands. Expecting to be slit open myself, I flinched, but Black Dog put his fingers over my left hand, encircled it, and pushed the knife farther into his own belly. He reached up with one hand then and touched my head. I could feel wisps of my hair falling away as those black nails moved. Then his hand closed around my throat.
I gasped, but my breath was already cut off. Black Dog dragged me closer. His hand was so big that his fingertips touched on the back of my neck. He did not squeeze lightly; I could feel the pressure rise as he choked off the bloodflow, and I grew lightheaded in seconds. I kept pushing at the knife in his belly, but had no leverage while he held me in place. I started shaking. Black Dog moved in until his cock was pressed against my stomach, upright between us, touching my hand, which lay nearly buried in him.
He leaned over me and opened that thick muzzle. His hot breath pushed against my face. I could look nowhere but at those teeth, that snaking tongue (perfect for lapping), and the dark hole beyond. Slowly, Black Dog lowered his muzzle over my mouth until his jaws held my face and cheeks. He clenched ever so slightly, testing the skin. I couldn't make a sound through his crushing fingers. That dark tongue lashed my cheek, wetting my skin. I could see very little apart from teeth, black gums, and one yellow-tinted eye, could have breathed nothing but him, if I had been able to draw in a breath. Air from his deep places washed over my face like a sauna.
I didn't have any strength left, and no way to break away from Black Dog. I found myself unwilling to even try. Instead, I let go of the knife and pulled my sticky, wet hands away from his wound. My arms felt so heavy, but I managed to drag them up to Black Dog's head. I dug into the dark fur, yanked hard, and pulled his muzzle towards me, pushing my face tighter against his maw. Daring him to bite down. I knew he wouldn't do so, he couldn't do so. It would ruin things for him if he were to kill me like that. But he wanted to bite so badly, poor thing. A whimper built in the back of his throat, and I knew I had him. Then my mind dimmed from the pressure. My eyes fluttered shut.
I came back to myself in his arms, able to breathe again. My throat was suffused not with pain but quivering heat, so much that a cloud of cooling vapor enveloped my face with each breath. Black Dog was holding me carefully, whining into my hair. But when he felt me move, he growled. It was more a sound of hunger than anger. His free hand came around my rear and pulled me tight against his body, and he moved his hips against me so that both our bodies stroked him between us. His moist tongue touched my face again, stretching out like a thing alive in its own right. When it touched my mouth, I bit down on it until I tasted blood.
He held me desperately close for a few moments. I was dimly aware of the muzzle near my ear, of Black Dog somehow whispering through those fangs. "Hard and soft, tender and vicious. You are so special, little Jackie." He moved back half a step and clutched my shoulders, still whispering directly into my ear. "I should have met you ages ago. What you do to me."
My voice had already recovered from the damage dealt by his grip. "Give me one foot of room with my knife and I'll do more, Dog," I growled back at the monster in low, heavy tones. In response, he darted down and bit my shoulder as he had that first time, stretching his jaw and wrapping around me.
I went limp, letting him hold me up while he worked his teeth into the wound. I cursed at him, bit my lip, called him any name I could come up with (Bastard!) while he gnawed at my skin. I could actually feel my blood welling up, and vanishing under his seeking tongue. His clawed hands squeezed my arms until they bruised, but I knew that the marks would swiftly fade.
He released me suddenly, and I stumbled drunkenly for a second. My chest was beating so hard that my vision shook. The monster towered over me. Then I saw the knife handle, still protruding from him.
My hands went for it, but Black Dog held me at bay. He yanked it from his belly and tossed it away. He pulled my body against his again. The bus was crowded with the odors of his fur and blood, but all I could smell was the sex coming from us. I rubbed my cheek against the fur of his chest while he grasped my wrists tightly.
I found myself spun around, and Black Dog held my wrists easily in one hand. His throat rumbled as he ran the knuckles of his free hand up and down my spine. He bent his wrist and slashed open my shirt with broad, beautifully slow swipes. The cloth fell away in long ribbons as he worked with a feather-light touch. I shook, expecting those claws to sink in with each pass. My flesh was covered in goosebumps.
Soon, most of my clothing above the waist lay shredded. He hadn't scratched me once. I glared over my shoulder at the monster, frightened of his bestial face, angry that his touch was so arousing, angrier that he hadn't done more. He flashed his fangs in response and pulled me against him. His cock lay wet against my back. It was so hard that I half-expected it to cut me.
"Bastard," I told him again. Black Dog replied by wrapping his free claws under my chin and up around my face. He released my wrists and pressed that hand against my belly instead, pulling us tightly together. I continued to curse at him until he put his muzzle to my head and took deep breaths of my hair. Then I closed my eyes and grew quiet, save for the hot pounding in my chest and my sharp breathing.
That moment was gone all too soon. Black Dog whined again, then leaned his head over my shoulder and licked along the tops of my breasts. He crouched slightly, so that his manhood shoved against the cloth covering my ass, not quite trying to penetrate me. Off-balance, I shifted my feet as best I could while he held me, and reached up to fondle his muzzle and ears. They were velvet-soft.
His fingers twitched against my belly. I couldn't take the waiting any longer, and whispered a demand against his neck. He gave out a low, almost submissive growl, curled his hand so that the claws touched me, and pressed, no harder than a breeze. They slipped right through the skin, creating a moment of shrieking pain and an eternity of throbbing, biting warmth.
I cried out then, over and over, straining my chest more with each breath. Turning such pain into rapture could not have been possible, but the Black Dog had been around long enough to make up his own rules. He wrapped his other arm under my breasts and pulled me up and back, sitting me on his lap as he slid into a seat. His cock sprang up tautly between my legs. His fingers kept seeking. Soft and tender, Black Dog had said, and he was right. His bite was just like spider venom.
As he kneaded at me, he strained to angle down and lick at my neck, perhaps in preparation for another bite. With his free hand, he settled me into place. I couldn't help myself. I reached down and took him in hand, pressed him against my crotch through the cloth there. His skin was silky smooth. He bucked involuntarily at that, and pushed up with his hips, trying to get closer, tighter. I responded by bringing my legs together around him, and stroked his heat with my inner thighs. He couldn't stand it, and neither could I.
When I came, I let myself cry out and kick. Black Dog held me tight, far too tight. His strength was terrible, and it felt as if he would crush my ribs and shred my vitals while he clasped me to him and released himself onto my lap and stomach. Almost immediately, while I was still trembling, he lifted me up. His claws came away so smoothly that I didn't feel them leave, only felt the sudden chill as the cold air touched the hot wounds.
He laid me on the seat with long slippery hands, leaving red prints on my body, and pressed me down. That black muzzle hovered over me as his human face had before, and then dropped lower. He sniffed at my pants, and then sliced at them as he had at the rest of me. The chill rush as the material came loose from my hips and groin, baring me to the winter air, made me shudder anew. The freed tastes of sweat and thicker odors wafted between us, and the Dog whined almost frantically.
He moved his eyes a little higher, then leaned close and licked once at my belly, followed it with the tiniest of nips. My pounding heart went cold at that. One kind of hunger was just like another for him.
He'll kill you, Jackie. He'll tear at you until you die. And he'll eat you.
I stared at the awful threat to my body, frightened to move or even quiver in fear as his mouth touched my stomach. He would open me, push his muzzle into my stomach and howl while I died screaming, and not from pain. I shifted my legs, still wrapped in cloth, spreading them as I moved one foot to the floor. The Black Dog took that as invitation. He moved in closer, leaned over with one forearm on the seat holding him up, the other hand trailing up my side.
Nowhere to go, nowhere at all. He had tossed away my weapons, exposed me, used up my options. Saying "No" wouldn't do a lot of good at this point. Funny I hadn't even considered it earlier. The Dog nipped again at the now pristine skin of my belly, drawing fresh blood. It wouldn't feel so bad. Wonderful, actually. I knew that much. But I didn't have to die to live. Having come close was enough.
I moved my hips again, hoping for a way out, and set my foot so as to push up hard, knowing that it would be no use. Then my toes found something, and it jingled like a song at my touch. The Dog's right ear perked up, but the rest of him continued to ready me. I stretched out, brought the object closer with my heel, and reached down to lift it up.
A length of chain, one of the few left from when they were first wrapped around Manannan's Black Hound, with a chunk of his leather duster clinging to it. The Dog froze at the sound as I lifted it and freed it from the leather, and his yellow eyes moved up to follow it and then to meet my gaze. I smiled, and he whined and trembled, laid his chin on my belly and then raised it up again in uncertainty.
I had him again. The Black Dog had been abandoned, tossed away like old food. He had convinced himself that he was free and alive inside because of it. Ever since then, he had tried to be over the unwanted dregs, to be the master if no one else could be his. Maybe even doing favors for them as he saw it, taking them out of the world he was tired of but wasn't capable of leaving.
But as I wrapped the ends of the chain around my hands and leaned up to press the length of it against his neck, I knew that, somewhere in his warm, damp places, he wanted to be bound tight again, made to heel. Why else would he find people to warm, if not to serve them?
He moved back just enough to allow me to push up from the seat, but otherwise held very still. A tiny whine escaped the Dog, and deadly impulse made me slap his nose. Time to hold the tiger by the tail, I told myself, and slowly moved to my feet, taking time to wrap the chain around his neck and gather the ends into my hand. His eyes moved to follow me. I had never imagined that yellow eyes could look pleading. He seemed to be holding his breath.
We all have our own ways of being alive. My heart was as calm as I had ever known it to be. The tight bindings around it were slipping loose.
I stepped around the Dog, then yanked back and down on the chain. He slid to his knees. I dug my fingers into the fur of his neck and sighed inwardly. Only a master was going to keep him in line. If I let him get on top of me again, he would kill me for sure. There wasn't going to be any release, not for us.
"No, Dubh CuMannain, you're not getting any more tonight," I heard myself say. He stifled another whine. "I want you to wait, stay ready for me. "But first... get rid of all that fur." I pointed at the puddles and stains, broken glass and shredded cloth. "You are going to clean up this mess."
* * *
The new Number Ten was much better, still relatively clean and bright. I did the zombies a favor by burning the old one. I was hardly a suspect in that, given the damage done and the fleeting glimpses of the Black Dog on one surviving security camera.
As I rode the bus, I vaguely wondered how it handled, but most of my attention was focused on the dark, neon-roofed street. I watched the people shambling about out there, imagining what some of them were like on the inside, once a person got past the unimportant parts. My legs were crossed, and the leather was tight against me. I flexed my thighs, enjoying the warm tugging between them. Under my jacket, my breasts were tightly bound in a leather halter that was far too small for them. It was uncomfortable, but I gloried in the rush I felt when it came off.
The bus shook as it began to pull to a halt. Outside at the next stop, a lean, deadly handsome man was talking to a pair of girls not quite out of their teenage years. One took a drag on a cigarette, and the man grimaced in irritation at the smell. But the Dubh CuMannain, Black Dog to his friends, was on the prowl, and he didn't dissuade that easily. I should know; I had caught him at his old habit enough times.
I pulled the knife from my back pocket, flicked it open and studied it with a yearning half-smile, then closed it and hid it in my palm. The bus stopped fully then, and hissed as it settled. I hopped up nimbly and past the driver, giving her a grin on my way down the steps. She looked a little nervous. Good for her. Maybe she knew she was in the belly of the beast.
So was I, and it had been awful when I was in her place, without a choice in the matter. But darting in and out of the beast's jaws on purpose, daring it to bite down when I walked through, was more assuring than anything else I could imagine.
Black Dog and his new friends had begun to board the bus, but he stopped short when he saw me. Poor guy. He would try to find some alone time now and then, but his scent was so easy to pick out. I had jumped him a dozen times at least, knifing him on every occasion, never quite fucking him, and sometimes coming away with fatal wounds for my efforts. But I always got better, and I managed to show him who was boss every time. Sooner or later, one of us wouldn't get up again. It would probably be me. What the hey, Jackie Baby. You're only immortal once.
Black Dog's pigeons continued talking for a second or two before they noticed his hesitation. They seemed confused. I could sympathize; it just didn't seem in his character at first glance to look that way, a little lost, a lot guilty. Of course, they hadn't seen into the intimate parts of him, those warm, damp places he hides.
They followed his gaze to me, and then they understood the situation, or thought they did. The Big Bad Doog had just got caught. He couldn't catch a break ever since he left me to stew in his bile. The Dog had bitten off more than he could chew. So to speak.
I stroked the folded silver in my palm and touched the weight of the chain and handcuffs in my jacket pockets as I imagined how the night would go, and moved forward to greet the trio. If I was as gentle as Dubh CuMannain, I might have advised his friends, Sorry, ladies, that seat is taken. I'm just a bit rougher, though.
"Back off, girls," I told them. "His ass is mine." I flashed a grin at the Black Dog, just like always.