Sorry this chapter took so long my loves, Ma-Ma got a new job and is dealing with end of term insanity. Needless to say Ma-Ma doesn't have much extra time to take over Peach Tree's. In exchange for my late post, I'm giving you what you want. You better like it- or at the very least review it. Ma-Ma doesn't own Dredd or Anderson, only this story and you my readers.
"Dredd redress into civilian clothing; we should complete basic surveillance of the block." I growled at him, barely containing my own turmoil- trying to sound controlled. I had expected his to be angry or even a little surprised, but naturally I was completely wrong. A voice from behind startled me, the breath so close it tickled my neck.
"I agree that course of action would be advisable Anderson." I jumped at the sound of his rough voice, unprepared for him to be so near. My eyes stayed locked on his form until it disappeared behind a closed door and I knew I was alone.
It just Dredd. Just your partner. Right. Just a little recon. Not anything difficult. Not a big deal. So why are you practically vibrating? I tried to focus on removing non-existing dirt from under my newly long blue nails not on my scattered thoughts. It didn't work.
Minutes passed. Failing to slip back into my role, Dredd took me off guard throwing me my purse from the counter top shooting me a lopsided scowl that resembled a pained smirk.
"Lets go." I pitifully countered trying to catch my balance, both physically and mentally. I wish I could understand him. How can he go from essentially mute and pissed at me to concerned so quickly?
In Peach Tree's the two of us stood in the elevator we shared with an elderly man and an angry looking teenage girl. Not angry as Dredd though. His face kept flickering from a professionally honed unreadable look, to a vaguely regretful look of resolve, to looking like he wanted to strangle everyone with in a yard radius with his or her own intestines.
Because having a linear series of emotions is just to damn simple for you. It makes sense that he has worked by himself for so long, how could anyone work with him if they cant predict his reactions? Well you could. It would only take a minute. Just get a handle on how he works, keep it easy to work with him. Could I? If I looked to see what was wrong, could I resist the temptation tosee why?
"Where to Felicia?" he asked, semingly unaware of my inner confusion. Restaurants would give us anonymity, but they are more expensive and will attract people with more money who are less likely to be active in crime. The shopping level is the most densely populated at this hour where we will encounter the most citizens. It might look bizarre for two adults to wander the shopping level during work hours, but it should be crowded enough to disguise us.
"Lets go shopping, we might run into someone." The silent 'who knows something' passed in between us in a knowing gaze.
"That would be," he struggled to sound like a civilian, "cool." His voice was almost carless, but it sounded so wrong. I had to employ every trick I knew to not burst out laughing. He sounded so relaxed but his erect posture demanded the respect of a teacher and the slant of his shoulders whispered respect.
As the door slid open, I couldn't help but notice a rust coloured stain in the corner next to the buttons. Is that from Friday? Did I kill them or did Dredd? Or was there mutiny?
Noting the possibility of a gang split in the Mama Clan, Dredd and I nodded at each other, simultaneously exiting the elevator, scanning the rubble for any more clues.
This place is a wreck. Chunks of cement and wood littered the concrete floors. Entire walls lay on the ground, exposing rows of demolished homes. Mama's Gatling gun did its job. Anger flared in my veins, how could she do this? How can anyone just mindlessly kill this many people? How could she destroy their homes without any care of who was killed or what the price was?
Someone will pay. Mama might be dead but, until we're in control of this building, someone like her will be in charge. They are as good as dead. I will personally ensure that. In my peripheral vision I could see Dredds fists clench and jaw tense- Unless Dredd makes good on that promise first.
At the end of the hallway a glowing signs advertised everything from new full emersion holographic games and pants, to dildos and diapers- yet as we entered the overflowing corridors nothing seemed worthy of either of our attention.
No conversation was any to be had, nor was it needed. The two of us needed a moment, a moment to see what had been done. Blood and bits of unidentifiable structures littered the atrium, blanketed by pictures of missing people.
With a slight nod of the head Dredd encouraged me to start searching. During the day its easiest to keep a the voices out. Not a wall around my head- completely shielding myself would give up my advantage. More like a fog, blurring the words and turning thoughts to a dull buzz in the back of my head that I constantly screen for anything useful. For the most part the thoughts are useless.
I'm goanna be late!
Shut up and take my money all ready.
Whole milk, bread, something that started with an A… apples? Asparagus?
Five more pounds and that dress is gonna be hot!
Through the webs of mundane complaints, in the back of my head a voice was tickling my brain. Tingling and buzzing filled the corners of my eyes, words beginning to form inside my ears.
That's the one. The cracker up in the corner with the fucked up eyes- that's the bitch. Why can't she just come to my damn apartment like the last one? Micks goanna kill me if she don't got it. Hell I'll kill me if she don't got it. I haven't had none since the fucking shoot out. Just gotta wait for tonight. That's the deal. We help them take the club, we get it. Avoid the Judges Mick thinks are here. Paranoid bastard. Better fucking be true. I'm goanna kill the mutant bitch next time but not before I get my hands on her and finish what Wayne started-
"Felicia; I know you find your own head fascinating, but it limits conversation. Anything interesting on your mind?" I could feel the double meaning in his words. To most people when I hear thoughts I might look sleepy but nothing to obvious. But Dredd was searching my face, hungry for information, his eyes climbing through my pores and scanning every flicker of movement. When my pupils grew big and the tension in my face evaporated, a whole new wall of intrigued energy blossomed from the left.
"A friend of mine is having a party, you remember the guys from Saturday morning?" trying to sound relaxed and bored was more difficult while fighting back a wave of adrenaline and keeping tabs on the mind.
"Yeah" He grunted, but I could tell he wanted to jump in front of me and shake all of the information out.
"Well there having a get together- It's a surprise party, she said this one will be more action packed then usual so why not." I hoped Dredd would understand what I was trying to say. "It's at-" I trailed off trying to pin point a location in the targets mind. "Meteor Shower. The only problem is she thinks that the guest of honour may know about who's coming and why." A meaningful glance passed between his hidden eyes and mine, understanding the threat of potential detection.
"Well then we will have to be discreet." The tone of his voice announced the end of the conversation, reinforced by the cracking sound of opening water he must have purchased while I was scanning minds. Both of us wanting to run go prepare, but knowing it would draw attention to leave after arriving so quickly.
We ate walked fast around the stores, taking no breaks for conversation.
I was craning my arm all the way back bending in the stupidest position, trying to reach the zipper when I heard the trap door open. Once back at the apartment I had returned to our secure base to prepare for our first dive back into the deep end. Dredd had said he would meet me in five minutes but he needed to take care of something first. I think he was just giving me privacy. The small room did not offer much of a place to change, so I took advantage of the time I had.
"How the fuck did Nico think this would work?" In vain, I tried to zip myself up for the umpteenth time. The stupid leather suit clung to all of my curves making reaching the zipper all but impossible. It was strapless, leaving my modesty relying on the battle between friction and gravity.
The design was not completely with out merit- even the stupid fishnets could be uncoiled and were strong enough to use for restraints. My chest had been pressed inwards to create cleavage and space for my gun. Now if I could just zip up the damn corset piece…
A grunted chuckle escaped the rough lips somewhere behind me, announcing Dredds appearance. If looks could kill, Dredd would be dead in so many ways. You should try putting on a leather cat suit and then laugh. Jackass.
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the surprising contact of warm calloused fingers lightly touching my back. They were like sand paper and silk. A pinkie finger slowly rotated over the ridges of my spine, causing a shiver to ripple through my body. Gentle strokes of his fingers soothed the skin I had irritated while pulling at the unyielding fabric.
His breath was closer now, just behind my neck, leaning over me. His whole being oozed a hypnotic quality. My head was spinning as his nails lightly scraped over the thin skin. Dear lord! His fingers left hot trails in their wake.
The heat travelled from the tips of his fingers into my skin, boiling and bubbling. A ring of flesh reacted, spreading out like an ink drop. Ever caress lead to a shiver, every shiver to a shallow intake of breath.
I may have been wearing a leather suit, but it did nothing to hide my reaction. My breast began to inflame, the flesh begging for contact, a hallow need developing in my chest. His fingers ventured up to my neck where his breath tickled at the small hairs there. Every now and then his digits would dip to the zipper pulling it up a little, but then being distracted by something and unconsciously stroking another patch of skin. Dredds fingers never ceased rubbing small innocent circles and lightly caressing, oddly transfixed with the small patches of skin showing
The muscles in my back contracted without my approval, causing my breast to rub against the rough material of the bustier styled bra. Even that minuscule amount of friction caused my nipples to harden. Heat continued to bloom outwards and downwards, traversing the steaming skin down my traitorous body.
My head span, I couldn't get enough air, the world was tilting and melting. I bit my lip, trying to cut off a moan that begged to escape. My thighs stubbly rubbed together, trying to find some relief from the swelling pressure.
Nothing about what Dredd was doing was suggestive, just lightly massaging my back. Yet a wave of heat over took me, rolling over my breasts making them tighten even further, making them beg for contact. The wave began to crest over my abdomen, building and searing ready to crash, making my walls clamp then recoil when finding nothing there.
My back arched needing more contact. Anything. Just not this empty need. Anything. My head came to rest on something tall and firm, hard and warm as a sigh escaped my pouted lips.
And just like that the zipper was yanked into place- the hands were gone leaving me alone and needy. Dredd stood in the opposite corner of the room, his hands in fists clenching the edge of the table. He was hunched over and panting, every centimetre of his body telling me to leave. I could feel the anger radiating off his body, the out of control feeling of raw indescribable instinct.
Dredds' whole body was shaking, every muscle trembling, fighting something. Recycled air in the chamber reeked of tension, filled with lustful confusion. What the fuck? A new wave of arousal crested, making me shiver just by the memory of his calloused hands caressing my back.
With a quiet frustrated grunt, he turned to me, his masked face glaring at my worried eyes over his shoulder. Even through the costume, I could see every single one of his features arranged to be intentionally blank in shadows of his glassy unfocused eye slits.
"Dredd…" I began unsure of what I wanted to say.
Maybe some people in the world naturally understand others better then they understand themselves. Maybe there are somehow people who just know what someone means, what they want- need. As Dredd turned his face began to transform, slowly cracking open, his jaw clenching and relaxing sporadically, he stood to his full height. He looked like a child, lost in wreckage screaming for their parents. Like an angry teenager looking for a cause. Like a hesitant tourist in the land of emotion. I wish I could hear just for a minute, just to understand what made him like this.
You do not have to wonder Cassandra.
I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes, hoping to appear as if I was just trying to figure out what to say. In reality I was removing one brick after another in the wall I built around his voice- the wall I built just for him, the only one I blocked completely out; waiting for the beams of his thoughts to shine through.
Normally when I actively decide to listen to someone, it is like a dam. The fog I normally hide in slowly fades and allows just a little information through, just a handful of thoughts, a mere fraction of their mind. The thoughts flow faster and faster into a whirlpool of feelings until I am floating in them. I can change the currents and tide to walk around inside of their head while their sloshy words crashing on top of me.
But Dredd never was normal. No, instead of the relaxed trickle, his thoughts were a tsunami- breaking down every wall of resistance I had ever made around my head.
Out of control. Heart racing. Adrenalin pumping. Out of control. Fear. Breathing. Feelings. Fear. Falling. Slipping. Tripping. Falling.
Hold on. Too much. Why do I care? I don't. I cant. I don't. I do not.
Stomach lurching. Too much. She cant touch me. She isn't here. I am alone. I am solitary. Not her. No. Can't do this. She is nothing. A rookie.
No she's more then that. She's talented.
Admit it. She's brave, smart, fast thinking, dedicated, companionate, controlled. She feels. She hears.
She can't do this. No one can. No one.
Hitting walls just to prove I'm still solid. Bruised and bloody hands agree. No one.
Reaching. Making me think she will lift me and take me somewhere I don't have to calculate every breath and blink.
Out of the deep end.
Her face bubbles and melts into a plastic puddle on the floor.
I am falling.
Landing back in my body with a jerk, my vision span back into my own eyes. That fear, the rage that threaten to consume him. His own numbness that can't get past the nothingness. The silence that stems from secret suffering.
Human comfort is a basic instinct- to see someone in pain, and to try and help. It's not one that requires thought, just your body. But I suppose that is exactly what Judges are trained to forget.
Yet somehow I found myself closing the space between Dredd and me in two long steps. His whole body stayed tense. Like a dear in headlights pretending to be a wolf, not a single muscle moved. It must be a special talent, to be so statue-like to be able to freeze so effectively you aren't even sure if their heart is beating.
"Anderson- Stop." He tried to push me away, but not very hard. Dredd was much stronger then I, if he had wanted me away, I would have been on the floor. Yet there I stayed.
"Don't." I said powerfully as I could. His eyes were panicked as he continued to try and pull away. Not this time. My arms wrapped themselves around his torso, pressing my palms against him as if I could keep him from running.
The small contact I was able to make was like nothing I had ever felt. Little shocks of electricity flowed from the tacky polyester cape into my hands, making every little hair stand on end. It wasn't even lust, although the waves of swelling pressure were more then enough to make me want to rub my self against his leg.
No, it was the overwhelming sense of calm. Like when I stood next to him, no one could hurt me, like he wanted me to be happy, like nothing could go wrong. Like I was out of the deep end.
Unexpected waves of peace flooded my body, burying my insecurities and vows of solitude, forcing them to wither deep under ground. It was an addictive drug, the feeling of completeness. I wanted more. More security. More peace. I wanted him to feel it to. Him to want this. Everything. The security. The protection. The happiness. The gentle pleasure.
The seconds of his stillness hit me the same way a chorus of black boards being scratched by long fingernails would. Every second made me shudder, made my chest bubble with fear.
This burden is mine. Mine alone. Heavy, crushing. Its my own. Alone. My own addiction to an unwilling drug.
I don't know if he realized I wouldn't let go until he hugged me back, or if somewhere deep down he felt the same, but his hands reluctantly and loosely encircled me.
Our skin touched fuelling my own personal inferno, building neurotransmitters between us. I assume it's like being drunk, you know your doing something bad and irrational but you can't remember why it matters. All that matters is how perfect you feel.
Minutes passed by with my face against his neck, trying to just exist for a moment. In my head our feelings slid between us in a fluid dance, until I couldn't tell the difference between each of our slow breathing, our warm skin, our undulating thoughts.
I don't know how long we stood like that. The two of us touching, standing toe to toe, breathing each other in. But then again- it didn't matter. We both needed it. Needed to admit to being human.
Every millimetre of flesh touching fabric or skin that allowed our heat to intermingle pulled me deeper. Every ragged exhale made me want more. Every second of unblinking contact made me want to see more. Every muscle that contracted pulling his hands over my skin made me want to be more.
I wanted everything. Just to stand there for eternity, feeling him without any repercussions or complications of the real world. To stand in my private paradise and bask in the beauty of it all. Simply to get lost in the shadows that covered his eyes until the imagined twinkle inside them enveloped me. All I wanted was to feel this wonderful for forever.
Yet something was missing. The skin his fingers brushed over, however briefly, ached for his touch. The places he caressed were on fire, spreading the heat into my blood. My chest heaved in time with his, our hearts racing with mutual need. My body was screaming for more. To satisfy the deep need in between my legs, to alleviate the gap in my chest.
Every singe molecule was at war with its self begging me, from its knees hands clasped in front of its chest, to move his hands closer. But the same thought was tinged with the powerful urge to slide my hands around and scrape over his chest, feeling the shallow rise and fall of his chest and thundering heart. Let my nails leave pink and red trails down his pectorals. Feel the rough texture of his chest.
It wasn't intentional, really it wasn't. My mind was racing along, making my heart rush faster and my panting increase ten fold. I didn't even notice my hands trailing over his biceps or wrapping over his waist. His body parts were no different then mine, a leg and arm just the same, all was just humming energy of us.
I just closed my eyes tight and prayed my imagination wouldn't stop running wild.
His fingernail traced a vein that ran down my neck making a wave of pleasure unique to any I had felt before blaze through my body. A violent shiver ran through my body, every molecule jealous of the ones he had just touched. My arms tensed pulling Dredd's body flush to mine, desperate for contact. His hard chest pressed further against my sensitive breasts, my face further into the crook of his neck and his straining erection against my sodden centre.
"Oh god!" I squeaked as the full weight of his hips pressed into mine, his hard length pressing against me in the most incredible way. Pleasure spiralled through my body, making my mind stop working and my body take control. All of my muscles contracted, praying I would give them what they so badly needed. Small waves of friction hit me, making my press my lips together and moan. Don't. Stop. I couldn't stop. Don't stop.
His hands shot downwards from my upper back, griping my hips in a way I knew would bruise. His fingers dove into my flesh, the small exposed area of face looking more animal then man. It probably wasn't intentional but the way he grabbed me forced me back against his erection with even more force eliciting a louder wanton noise from the back of my throat.
A loud grunt filled the moaning air while his hands pulled me further against him, seemingly at war. Push and pull, his fingernails tugged at my leather-clad skin unsure of what it needed more.
Relief or control.
Momentary bliss or a constant neutral.
Fulfilment or dominance.
"No…" he whispered, "no!" His eyes seemed to be on fire, his low pants now coming in growls. Hips that didn't belong to me rocked seemingly unconsciously pressing against screaming nerves.
I couldn't breath. Too full too much. Every iota of my being screamed for more, for friction and pressure to release me from this purgatory. To stop the spiralling pain and turn it to the most beautiful pleasure. So close- my toes curled and a high-pitched wail escaped my parted lips.
But instead I found myself on the floor, his hands pushing me down with one strong shove. I landed in a heap, my legs curled up and next to my shoulders, hands pressing into the ground next to my head. From under my eyelashes I could vaguely see Dredd hitting something, his grunt of frustration,.
Then just like that he was gone
"Lets go Alex. I don't want to miss my little friend." My voice could barley contain the irony in my sentence. My friend, as if Dredd would let me have friends.
"Fine Anders- I mean Felicia." Holy shit look who's a human after all.
Power walking ahead of Dredd, even in spikey heals; I managed to get into the elevator enough in front of him enough that he had to jog before the door closed. I couldn't help but smirk. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dredds poker face crumbling, trying to stay neutral but flickers of anger and concern passed over his features.
"I'm driving." I called; straddling the front of the shitty motorcycle the SJS supplied us with.
"No you are not."
"That wasn't a question Alexander," I revved the engine, flicking my head back at Dredd's frozen form. "Coming?" I swear to god he muttered 'Hopefully not,' but it was too quiet to be sure.
The whole room vibrated with blasting bass that threatened to deafen the roaring crowed. Blindingly bright lights flew across the room, flashing to make the room a dark cavern of blaring sound and body heat. A mass of glowing dancers looked like puppets gliding and grinding together in a disjointed stop motion video.
Whole clusters of girls in leather and fishnets spun around glowing poles, shimming and sauntering around bugged out eyes. Every man pressing himself against an undulating skinny girl on the dance floor flying on narcotics. No one was paying attention to the two awkward adults standing on the brink of the dance floor.
Speaking of the two mature adults who should be working together to stop the gang activity… Him? Mature? Ha. Says the one who isn't speaking to him. Shut up.
I knew it wasn't fair, but I was pissed. Why does Dredd get to call the shots?He wants to go cross his arms and stare at a wall, well fuck you. You can go make Joe's death in vain. I'll one up that. I'll do this by myself. I don't need your help- just stay where I can see you and I'll do this alone.
Jesus if he can't even hug without recoiling in horror then how are we supposed to blend in at 'Sexy Masquerade' night? Jesus.
Well that wasn't quite a hug- cut him some slack kid.
After brushing my self off I had stomped over to the mirror where I slapped the red lipstick and black eye liner on, smudging it to get the appropriate I-had-lots-of-wild-sex-last-night-and-now-I'm-to-h ungover-to-not-look-like-a-racoon effect Nico's booklet described. With a simple leather cat-girl mask that made me look mysterious, I was ready to loose myself in the name of generic uniqueness.
We need to focus. How are we going to blend in with Mr Social Pariah over there? If I drag him on to the dance floor people probably wont notice how uncomfortable he blue prints of Meteor Shower had shown the dance floor central to the building with only two or three blind spots. A quick look at the layout assured me that I would still be able to hear everyone even from the centre of the dance floor.
I continued to circle the building, my eyes flickering over every face searching for the woman from the shopping centre. Even as my mind focused finding her voice all I could think of was the fifteen minutes on the way to the club I had spent in utter hell.
The most pleasurable part of hell imaginable at that.
Dredd had sat as far back on the bike as he could, but apparently I drive fast when I'm pissed. Within several pinpoint turns Dredds' arms were wrapped tight around my waist. The jolt of obeying traffic laws making his pelvis rocking against my ass and lower back in a delicious rhythm. My whole body was on fire, my already swollen and needy centre, begging for more contact than the bike seat. Every now and then his forearm would slide at a particularly sharp turn and brush against the swell of my breast. I couldn't help but gasp at the memory of that contact, my breathing elevated and biting the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning.
Focus damn it. My eyes flickered over the scene with out really seeing. Just then a dark haired woman slinked into the throbbing crowd. Shit is that her? We are to far away. I can't tell from here- fuck we have to go into the pit. My training began to kick in at the prospect of interrogation. I turned and began to saunter as fast as I could into the mob trying to fallow the trail of the potential targets thoughts.
"Where do you think your going?" Growled a hand, grabbing my wrist pulling me back against something hard.
"Fallowing my friend." Flicking my bangs away from my eyes I turned back to the flashing lights. The hand stopped me again.
"Don't you think that's something you should have told me Felicia?" He ground out between his teeth trying to remain calm. I was playing with fire, poking the sleeping bear. But I couldn't stop; He's letting her escape.
"Oh I am sorry," I stood on my toes and grabbed the collar of his shirt and leaned my head in close enough to his face to press my lips against his ear. "I didn't realize we were trying to let her get away." With that I grabbed his wrist and pulled his stunned form on to the dance floor.
Bodies surrounded us; we were swimming through a sea of sweaty nameless masked faces and aroused tension. My body began to swing with the music, my hips slowly thrashing back and forth with my hands threaded in my hair pushing my breasts forward. I bit my lip and looked up through my lashes hoping to see the woman's outline through the stop motion effect of the strobe lights.
"Felicia what are you doing?" a stiff voice choked out from behind me.
"Blending in." Dredd's body was frozen behind me. He's going to give us away. I turned to him, pulling his arms around my waist and swaying my hips like the girls around me. Most of his face was obscured by a black mask, but of what I could see his jaw was in his trademark grimace. Please loosen up. I moved my hands from my hair to his biceps, running my hands along his tense muscles.
"What are you doing to me?" He moaned.
"I'm working." I ran my hands over his shoulder blades, reviling in the feeling of the defined contours. My eyes flickered between his face and the crowd trying to keep up the pretence of blending in. I am just distracting him. I not doing it because I like it. I am not doing this because I want to. Nope. Not one bit. Not even a little.
"I'm learning." My hands curled into balls, my fingernails scraping at his chest.
"What?" His voice was genuinely baffled and out of breath. Anderson he is distracted, go after her! I was supposed to be searching for a woman. I was supposed to be stopping crime. I was supposed to be searching.
"You. Confuse. Me." I hissed into his neck letting my breath tickle his skin, knowing that his keen ears would just barely pick it up over the din. No response. I allowed my hands to traverse the expanse of his chest, stroking his clavicle.
Stop you need to focus!
"One minute we are comrades." My lips brushed against the light stubble under his chin. "The next your in your own little bubble of self loathing." My fingers traced his covered cheekbone while my hips continued to sway.
Do not play all your cards. What are you doing?
"I don't like it." No answer.
Shut the hell up you don't care about him.
"I don't know what to expect." His lips opened to protest but I placed a single finger over them.
Please tell me you don't actually care about what he thinks and this is all an act.
"And I'm done with it." My index finger began to trace the Cupid's bow that was his luscious upper lip. "I am your equal." My thumb lightly scraped over his parted lips making him hiss.
My heart was hammering in my chest, my lips trembling with need. His face was inches from mine, his lovely neck begging to be bitten. My hand pressed against his lips slightly harder extracting a lovely groan from him. A new wave of need built inside of me, my panties uncomfortably damp and my face uncomfortably red.
Anderson- do not do this. You cannot trust him. He is a bipolar emotionally handicapped Judge. There are at least ten reasons you shouldn't do this I can list off the top of my head.
One hand was still pressed against his chest, feeling his heart racing. My fingers began to scrape the flesh pulsing beneath them. Under to cotton of his shirt I could feel his nipple pressing up against my fingernails, I could feel the moan vibrate in his chest when I scraped at the puckered flesh.
Number One: He is a Judge
"Shit." he hissed into my hair. Finding bravery in his rapid exhales; my fingers left the pointed flesh trailing down his stomach.
Number Two: You are a Judge
Jesus! A small moan escaped my mouth as I felt the taught ripples of his tight abdomen. Just a little lower… My fingers drew circles spiralling down, scraping his navel.
Number Three: This is illegal
So close. I could feel the heat radiating from the hard line that was his cock.
Number Four: If you touch his dick he will and should shoot you.
I could feel him twitching against the denim cage that kept my hand from him. It sat there, tapping against his trembling stomach begging for release.
Number Five: You have no clue what you are doing.
My swaying hips rubbed my thighs together, needing stimulation. All I could do was feel, everything was instinct. With no further thought, my small hand wrapped around his length.
Number Six: You clearly are too immature to control yourself, therefor to immature to even imagine a relationship with anyone- even in the hypothetical and impossible situation in which that was an option.
Fingers tracing up and down, feeling the long contours of him. I wanted it all. Everything. All of it. All of him. Every throbbing vein, every slight temperature fluctuation, every small jerking muscle, every small dip or dent. Everything.
Number Seven: He is as unpredictable as all hell.
"If you have one iota of a modicum of goddamn self preservation stay still," Dredds voice was unlike anything I had heard before.
Number Eight: You are clearly suicidal.
It was rage, snarling in the night with hands begging to choke the first neck they can lock their pure red tinted vision on to.
Number Nine: You have zero chance of him wanting you back.
It was fear, shaking with its feet tucked onto their bed and head under the covers clutching a flashlight to its chest.
Number Ten: You care too much about him.
It was lust; undiluted need tearing though every emotion with molten urgency that slips into your blood stream making you sweat pant and beg with an arched back and heavy lidded eyes.
For a moment I couldn't breath. For a moment I was so off balance I was afraid I would fall. For a moment my heart was beating out of my chest at seeing him bare his feelings in front of me. For a moment I was willing to step away and make him feel comfortable.
But a moment passes quickly.
And bonus; Number Eleven: You don't deserve him.
Using his grip on my arm as leverage I pulled my face close to his, my artificially blue eyes staring straight into his shadows. My breast pressed into his heaving chest, with some satisfaction I noticed his breathing hitch even more.
His hips thrust forward, rocking and swaying against mine, trapping my hand against him. I could feel the hard line of him begging for my hand to reach inside. Begging for relief.
I could not help but notice his lips were inches from mine. My hand was frozen against Dredd's stomach, immobilized between my hips and his cock. His shadowed eyes locked on mine. I couldn't stop myself. There was nothing more in the moment I wanted then him.
His hands moved from my waist, clutching my shoulders and face as if to pull me away. I could feel his fingers flexing around my waist, trying to pull me closer with muscles quivering with then need to shove me away. But something inside of him was fighting, making him freeze. Even as his hands warred with them selves, he began to relax.
A gasp moved through his lips, as my hand pressed harder against the softer top of him. I couldn't help but moan at the feeling of him twitching inside his pants, pulling my blood to the surface making my heart pulse impossibly faster. I was not in control as his fingers contracted at the sound of my moan, I had no say in them pulling me closer to him, and it was not my choice when he threaded his left hand in my hair. But it was a damned good decision.
Unsure of myself, but far too aroused to be embarrassed I pressed my lips onto his neck and sucked gently. Running the tip of my tongue over the skin, I rejoiced in the grunted moan from the back his throat.
And then teeth were slipping around his jugular, nipping lightly at him. I was lapping at his jaw line. It was rolling over and feeling the texture of his perpetual five o'clock shadow.
It wasn't practiced or done with finesse. It was sloppy and passionate, there was no pretence. Just need. Desperate moans of two people who cannot get close enough to each other. Rushed fingers pulling at clothing and hair. Needy nerves begging for more.
I couldn't breath it was too much- or not enough; I couldn't tell. Reluctantly I pulled my mouth from neck, panting. His hand pulled my hair, bending my head back exposing my neck. Lips meeting the delicate skin of the jugular, sucking and biting with gentle tongue. My moans filled the air around us, my muscles seizing with need.
"Casandra," he moaned around my jaw. My name. My fucking name. His eyes were staring up at mine, I couldn't see them but in my mind his pupils were just as huge and lust blown as mine. I couldn't control myself. My hand that was pinned between us began to move again, squeezing and stroking needing him to feel as much pleasure as I was. "Fuck." He choked out, "Harder." His hips were working against my hand with a vengeance, needing more contact. Needing me.
I needed him right back.
Grabbing his hands in my hair, I placed them on my ass while sliding my arms around his neck. Thank God for Judge reflexes. With a jump I wrapped my legs around his waist, rubbing my self against him harder. Every bump, every grind, every breath pressed his against me. Every second was one of pleasure and pain tormenting me in a delicious dance of need.
"I've never- never anything like- like this" I groaned pressing back against him harder to emphasize my point.
"Never. Me-" What ever else he was going to say was cut off by me beginning to move up and down against his thrusts. We were lost in a hurricane of lips and necks, the only thing keep us to the ground was the friction between our bodies. But even that was stretching threatening to snap and send us flying.
The very tip of him was pressing against my clit in such away I was certain I was going to die. It was too wonderful. To glorious. Every thrust up his hips against my centre, every time I ground back down on him, every moan and grunt was gravity.
I could feel my thighs trembling, my abdomen tightening. My muscles were all flexing, preparing to launch me into the world of bliss just moments away.
"Dredd- please. Please." I rubbed harder, inching closer to the glorious release awaiting me. "I'm so, please, fuck- so close." My voice was a panted whine. "I need- need"
"This…everything-" the next words were swallowed by the way his hips moved. Faster and harder they pumped against me, the contractions in me were coming so close together. Almost.
"More!" I wailed, needing something to make me fall. A push, a nudge, a whisper anything. Just then I saw his eyes flutter, his mouth drop open and his thrusts become erratic. "Now!" A growl started low in his chest working up higher until he was burying his head in my cleavage with his teeth latched onto the sensitive flesh of the top of my breast.
"Holy- fucking hell! Dredd!" I let a strangled scream escaped my lips as my hips slammed back down onto his. Fireworks and explosions littered my vision; the roar of pulsing blood in my ears silenced everything except for Dredds quiet chanting over and over under his breath.
I was flying, every nerve ending in my body was screaming. Every muscle clenching and releasing violently. My eyes slammed shut, my toes curled, my back arched. Pleasure attacked my body with one earth shattering thrust.
I felt warm liquid hit my stomach, Dredds muscles violently squeezing and vibrating with the intensity of our release. Everything was glowing, the room was hot, the music stopped; there was nothing just us.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I chanted under my breath as the waves began to dissipate leaving my body a trembling mess of satisfaction. Every inch of my being sang with the beauty of it, the tension gone, Dredds firm embrace as he gently placed my on my feet, the shaky way I stumbled still dazed from pleasure.
It wasn't until my hearing returned that I realized the music had stopped in favour of sirens. That the explosions behind my eyes had not been in my imagination.
The voices screamed into my mind completely obliterating any thoughts I had.
We're gonna die.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Where is she?
I can't breathe.
Where are the Judges?
Where were the Judges indeed, Anderson?
Maybe it wasn't everything you wanted- but certainly a taste. Now review Peachtree's if you want more.