On Our Last Date [Graverobber/Amber]
Title: On Our Last Date
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Graverobber/Amber
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 367
Summary: Amber stops living. Graverobber keeps going.
Warnings: Necrophilia
"Ooh, harder, Graverobber," purred Amber Sweet, biting her bottom lip and arching her back off the pavement. Her partner, throwing her legs over his shoulders for leverage, grinned lustily down at her. She seemed more fucked up than usual, he thought, gazing down at her through his curtain of hair.
"How much fuckin' Z have you had today, Amber?" he asked, continuing to thrust into her.
"Mmm, I dunno, baby... wanna hit me again?"
He snorted. "Any more would be wasted on you."
Amber threw her arms around Graverobber's neck, pulling him down to kiss her, panting into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her up into his now-kneeling lap, bouncing her up and down, Amber wiggling and thrashing on top of him.
She threw her head back, seemingly in ecstasy. He had to keep a firm grip on her waist to keep her from falling as he thrust into her, and when she appeared to want to lie back in missionary position again, he gladly obliged. Continuing his assault, he leaned forward to kiss her neck, her jawline, her mouth, and...
No response. She wasn't kissing him back.
"Shit."
This wasn't the first time Amber'd overdosed, he thought, but it had never been this bad. He placed his fingers against her windpipe. Nope, no pulse. No breathing. No life left.
Graverobber thought about her valets, standing guard just around the corner.
Well, fuck... he said to himself. They're gonna come after me anyway, after this... might as well have a good time while I can.
Still inside her, he pulled her legs tighter around him. He nuzzled her neck, relishing the feel of her yielding, cooling corpse. He kissed Amber's mouth again, licking the inside, tasting her. Thrusting to the hilt once, twice, three times, he came, with a grunt he tried but failed to suppress. One of the valets peeked around the corner, disapprovingly.
With a sigh, he pulled out of her. He kissed her cheek.
"I'll miss you, baby," he whispered to her body. He imagined the huge funeral she'd probably have, her body at the morgue, the ornate coffin she might be buried in.
"But maybe not for long."
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Graverobber/Amber
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 367
Summary: Amber stops living. Graverobber keeps going.
Warnings: Necrophilia
"Ooh, harder, Graverobber," purred Amber Sweet, biting her bottom lip and arching her back off the pavement. Her partner, throwing her legs over his shoulders for leverage, grinned lustily down at her. She seemed more fucked up than usual, he thought, gazing down at her through his curtain of hair.
"How much fuckin' Z have you had today, Amber?" he asked, continuing to thrust into her.
"Mmm, I dunno, baby... wanna hit me again?"
He snorted. "Any more would be wasted on you."
Amber threw her arms around Graverobber's neck, pulling him down to kiss her, panting into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her up into his now-kneeling lap, bouncing her up and down, Amber wiggling and thrashing on top of him.
She threw her head back, seemingly in ecstasy. He had to keep a firm grip on her waist to keep her from falling as he thrust into her, and when she appeared to want to lie back in missionary position again, he gladly obliged. Continuing his assault, he leaned forward to kiss her neck, her jawline, her mouth, and...
No response. She wasn't kissing him back.
"Shit."
This wasn't the first time Amber'd overdosed, he thought, but it had never been this bad. He placed his fingers against her windpipe. Nope, no pulse. No breathing. No life left.
Graverobber thought about her valets, standing guard just around the corner.
Well, fuck... he said to himself. They're gonna come after me anyway, after this... might as well have a good time while I can.
Still inside her, he pulled her legs tighter around him. He nuzzled her neck, relishing the feel of her yielding, cooling corpse. He kissed Amber's mouth again, licking the inside, tasting her. Thrusting to the hilt once, twice, three times, he came, with a grunt he tried but failed to suppress. One of the valets peeked around the corner, disapprovingly.
With a sigh, he pulled out of her. He kissed her cheek.
"I'll miss you, baby," he whispered to her body. He imagined the huge funeral she'd probably have, her body at the morgue, the ornate coffin she might be buried in.
"But maybe not for long."