Gaz Membrane will destroy you. (gameslave2) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-02-26 01:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, gaz membrane, logan howlett (wolverine) |
Who: Gaz Membrane and Logan Howlett.
What: Random gory sex in an alley. (They're grumbly and wanted distractions!)
When: Monday night.
Where: An alley.
Rating: NC-17 for bloodplay, language, violence, explicit sex.
Warnings/Triggers: Reference to self-mutilation, bloodplay, mention of suicidal ideation.
Status: Complete!
Thank god the fantasy creatures were gone. Gaz was walking downtown at night, snapping photographs periodically. She’d take them home and paint whatever they made her feel, try to paint them as photorealistically as possible, or any other way she could use them. At the moment, she’d sat down on an empty crate in an alley behind a strip club, ignoring a couple having sex a few feet from her as she rifled through her camera bag for a cigarette.
Logan stepped out of the strip club. He felt a little frustrated, but he was grateful there weren’t any singing vaginas. Once had been enough. He lit up a cigarette, and started down the street. His nose wrinkled at the smell of sex, and he growled to himself.
The growl made Gaz laugh, and she hopped up. “Do you have a lighter?” She’d found her smokes, but not a lighter. Her laugh sounded somehow devoid of mirth, one of those things that she did because people expected her to, not because she wanted to.
Logan looked at the woman, then shrugged his shoulder and held out his lighter. She seemed like an almost joyless person. If she wanted to murder her lungs he was okay with that.
Gaz was wearing what she usually wore - a short skirt, stockings that stopped mid-thigh, and a short t-shirt. She lit her smoke, thanking him with a nod, and glancing at him quickly. “May I take your picture?”
"Sure, why the fuck not," Logan replied, his face obscured by smoke. Pretty lady wanted to take his picture, was he gonna say no?
Letting the smoke dangle from her lips, she pulled the camera up, taking his photo a few times in rapid succession. “I paint. Getting people to pose is a bitch. Thanks.” She put the camera back, looking up at him. “You come out of the club? Were the poles doing anything trippy?” She’d thought that would be funny, but didn’t feel like paying cover to go in and find out.
“Singing vaginas yesterday. Perfectly normal today.” Logan sounded relieved. He didn’t like it when vaginas were singing. He didn’t like that at all.
“I guess you could always shut them up,” Gaz muttered, laughing a little at her own joke. She figured the guy had places to go, so she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, nodding her thanks for the smoke and resuming walking down the street, pausing to take photos of the strip club from a new angle.
Logan watched her, putting his hands in his own pocket and tilting his head when she bent over in that skirt. He shook his head to clear it. “You don’t ever want to hear a muffled vagina sing.”
She didn’t really mind that he was looking at her ass; lots of people did. “It kept ... that’s fucked up,” she blinked. “I wonder why.” She turned around to look at him. “Why the hell were you in a strip club, anyway?” She didn’t think he’d have problems pulling.
“Good beer,” Logan replied, shrugging a shoulder. “An’ sometimes I like to look.” He smirked at her. “Like right now.”
She raised an eyebrow. "Really." Well, her night was looking up. "Thanks." She looked him up and down as well, lifting a finger into the air and motioning in a circle. “Turn around for me.”
Logan held his arms out and turned around slowly, more amused than anything else.
“What, if you're checking out my ass, I want to look at yours.” She tossed her cigarette to the side and fell into step with him.
He did have a hot Canadian ass. Logan stopped turning, dropping his arms to his sides. “Like what you see?”
“I’m walking with you, aren’t I?” Gaz was standing close to him, smirking, looking up. “And I’m guessing you didn’t get lucky at the club.”
"Didn't see anyone I liked 'till now," Logan replied, turning his head to look her over again. He turned to face her completely, and ran his hands down her arms and across her hips. He grabbed there, yanking her into him.
“I don’t dance,” she muttered. His hands were calloused, and she had to admit she liked how cocky and sure of himself he was. It meant he was less likely to get clingy and call her the next day. He was nice enough, but a relationship with him? Nah.
Her hips came into contact with him, and she reached up, tugging him down for a kiss.
Groaning, Logan kissed her back, pushing Gaz against the brick wall as he did so, roughly. He could smell that she liked it like that. He liked the way her body felt.
She could hear him groaning in the back of his throat, almost like a growl, and she returned it with a light nip of his lower lip. Her tongue moved along the place she’d just bit, and she broke the kiss long enough to lean back and tug off her shirt. “Should find an alley,” she murmured. Her bra was the same bright purple as her hair.
Nodding, he picked her up like she was nothing and started to carry her into the nearest alley. His hands roughly groped her bottom, fingers digging into her skin bruisingly. Logan continued to kiss her, biting back and sucking her lip into his mouth.
Oh. Well, that was a solution. She wrapped her legs around his waist, waiting until he leaned her against a wall to wiggle out of her panties and kick them aside. She managed to get out of her bra without breaking the kiss, liking the rough bite of brick against her skin. She was going to have to do this sort of thing more often, talking to people.
"Fuck..." Logan was glad she'd gotten herself so undressed, because he was about two seconds shy of cutting her clothing off. One hand ravished and squeezed at her breasts, and the other left marks on her ass and thighs, before moving to his belt to try to get himself free.
“We should be, hurry up,” she whimpered. Her hands ran under his shirt, fingernails raking down his chest until she almost drew blood. He was fumbling, and she reached down to help him with his belt.
As soon as his belt was loosened and he was free, Logan rammed himself into Gaz, moving his teeth to her neck and biting her hard. Logan pistoned his hips, growling at the pain in his chest. Against her skin, he gasped, "Harder."
She could oblige that. She liked that her back was bloodying up, liked that he was fucking her like his life depended on it. Tugging his shirt open, she bit him hard, loving that she was feeling something. God, sometimes it was like she lived her whole life numb and blind.
Yowling, she ran her fingernails hard down his back, trying to hurt him how he wanted, glad that this random encounter had happened at all.
Logan lifted her hips up higher, trying to drive deeper, faster and harder. Her encouragement a and the pain in his chest and back made him tilt his head back and yowl as he used Gaz, rough and demandingly.
Normally, Gaz lived her life in varying states of numbness, a glacial chill that was only interrupted by the bright points of her art and the cigarettes she sometimes put out on her inner thighs. Sometimes she talked to Jupiter. But other than that, she seldom smiled, and even more rarely felt alive.
But this Logan guy, he was making blood rush through her veins, some of it trickling down her back. His own blood was under her fingernails, and she took some of it onto her fingertips, slicking them with his essence before smearing them over his mouth and kissing him hard.
Logan’s growl cut through the night air, over the sounds of their bodies slapping together and over their ragged breathing, though little could cut over Gaz’s cries. The woman was loud, like a sexy banshee, and it practically deafened his sensitive ears.
Taking a bit more of the blood, she moved her fingers between her legs, leaning her head back against the wall and whimpering his name. It was easy enough to say, and it wrapped around her tongue as she moaned. Someone should sing his praises, he was doing a good job of cheering her up.
She was tight, and energetic, and Logan felt the muscles in his arms flexing as he used her even harder. Sometimes, when he had sex in his dreams, he lost control of those claws. It led to careful hand positioning, most times.
If he had clawed her, she’d probably have welcomed it. She buried her head in his neck, biting gently, lapping lightly at the blood she drew. If only her entire life had something like this to look forward to, periodically she might have actually laughed.
It was like fucking Jubilee, in a way, only Gaz (probably) didn’t need the blood. At least in the same way. Logan pushed her legs higher, his hips jerking with growing need as he started to lose control. He growled again, and suddenly he was turning Gaz around so she was facing the wall and he was pressing into her again.
She let her cheek rest against the wall, wanting the scrapes, hoping she’d get a black eye. She raked her nails down the brick, whimpering when he growled. “Bite me,” she demanded. “My hair’s right there, pull it, you bastard.”
Logan yanked on her hair, pulling her head back and arching her back as he bruised her hips with his other hand. He moved with shallow, rapid thrusts, and bit her shoulder hard. The hand on her hip smacked Gaz on the ass, once, then twice. He pressed a finger against... places.
She liked that she was pressed against him. Her hands pressed hard against the wall, pushing herself back into him. She wanted him to leave bite marks, tiny crescent shaped welts she could press against when she touched herself in the days to come.
His fingers weren’t unwelcome, and she groaned, pivoting her hips and pressing hard into his roaming. “Do it,” she growled, low in her throat, threatening.
Leaving a bruising bite mark on her other shoulder, Logan did as she ordered, ramming home and slamming her bodily against the brick wall as he did so.
Shuddering, she could feel herself come, a tightening of all of her muscles that was replaced by warm heat moments later. She was oddly silent, closing her eyes tightly and trying to be in the moment as long as possible before it went away.
Logan’s head tilted back as he came a moment later, his body jerking and shuddering as he ground into her with ancient, primal need. He panted, leaning forward and biting the back of Gaz’s neck. He started to rock his hips again, gently at first, as if he were gauging her ability to take more.
She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” she murmured, actually impressed. “Do they make more of you?”
“They tried to clone me once,” Logan replied, before he started to move again, deep and long and hard.
“Because of this?” She reached back behind herself, wrapping an arm around his neck and kissing him deeply.
"Because of this." And Logan popped his claws for the first time on purpose, on either side of the girl's bruised hips.
She blinked at the claws, but soon her face lit up in a grin. “Cut me?”
They weren't coated in adamant out, so the cuts would heal faster and hurt less. "Trade you." Logan pulled out, and pressed higher along her backside. The tips if his claws knocked at her waist.
She groaned at the change of venue, so to speak, and she whimpered delightedly when she felt the claws poke holes in her hips. “Oh my fucking god,” she purred. “You suck for this.” She’d never end up liking sex with normal people.
“You ain’t tellin’ me to stop,” Logan growled, grinding into her and knicking another set of marks along her back.
“I’m not an idiot,” she snarled back, tossing her hair and arching a little into his touch. “Son of a bitch,” she murmured.
Logan laughed, trailing his claws along her back. The scratches were light, not even deep enough to bleed. It was like he had incredible control. And he liked it.
Except Gaz wasn’t happy with that. She leaned back into his claws, trying hard to get him to scratch her, nick her, tear her open.
“They ain’t somethin’ to play with,” Logan growled. “They kill.” Still, he let her press into them slightly, before moving his hands so that she couldn’t cut herself too bad.
“So?” She had her eyes closed, back arched, hoping he wouldn’t stop.
Growling, Logan continued to move in her, as if he didn’t care how much it might hurt. His claws left marks from her shoulders to her butt, and then scratched along her waist and ribcage.
She came again, eyes closed, leaning hard against the brick wall, feeling her eyes water and tears slip. She wiped at them, hoping he hadn’t seen.
Logan didn’t see it, but he did smell it. That didn’t alter how he moved. He was too close, too ready to go back over the edge. His claws retracted and then popped back out again, grazing the undersides of both breasts as he roared his orgasm.
Good, he hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he hadn’t cared. She caught her breath, licking at a cut on her shoulder as she bent over to put her bra back on without a word.
Logan fixed his clothing, eyeing her as he did so. He worried about her. He hadn’t exactly been gentle but she could end up dead with the wrong guy and begging for something like that.
He wondered if that was her goal.
She left her panties where they were and pulled her top on as well, leaning down to light a smoke before taking her camera bag and starting to walk out of the alley.
He watched her go, then turned to walk in the opposite direction.