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Quick Kills No. 4

Shawn the Seeker

I had to hide out for awhile after that one, seems like the powerful at be don't like it when you start praying on their ilk. Sometimes however, the universe sees fit to grant you a gift, a sickly little lamb wandering off not only into the forest, but right to the base of the mountain, directly untoward the mouth of the wolves den. One should never over look such a karmic cash points reward, forsaking a gift like that, shame on those that would. Not me though, haha.

The following several weeks were spent doing the usual survival loops, couldn't really keep this up if there wasn't some form of care system up and running. Immediately scrubbing my scales up to a brilliant, devilish sheen, reminiscing about how warm and soft Robert was.

"Why are all the perverts the ones I like." I grabbed my knob, claws full of cold crick water, and twisting. Lamenting, wishing I'd been able to snag my bear skin trophy.

"Uff." Next was going about hawking the recently deceased's shiny baubles, stocking up on food and water, along side biological accelerants in just the right amounts. Upon returning home, my neck of the sewer village, a special little peanut with my name crudely etched into it on a parasite infested, decomposing log. Sorry, rambling,

"Home." I sighed, shoulders falling, the one place where I could let down my guard, sorta. It was a storm drain most vagrant folk wouldn't inhabit or go near, roughly a sixteen by sixteen foot square boasting an easy twenty feet in height. Large, heavy gauge, corroded iron pipes lining its walls, the place would fill when it piss poured and stormed, save for my little outcrop just at the throat. Sure, you had to risk a hefty fall and tetanus every time you wanted some peace but, what's a little risk for the sweet threesome with silence and solitude? Plus, none of my shit ever walked off, so I'm never gonna bitch. Today, was different, with grocery bags held by tooth, I began my climb, but the second my claws latched onto the third of four iron mantles, something caught my ear.

I paused, stopped mid climb, webbed ears twitching, there was an heir in my home, a ghastly miasma I could practically see pouring out of my hole. What puzzled me, was, those sounds, didn't match. They were sobs, younger, masculine, half held back but still weeping, I patted my blade just to make sure it was still where it always was. What awaited me, I'd never expect, even in the wilds of an almighty dream scape.

"Who are you?" I growled in the roughest of verbal cuts, slinging phlegm with the shear rasp forced through my neck. It was a donkey, wrapped in rags most street kin wouldn't wear, he was soiled, he stunk, sat, perched in a corner where the pipe curved upward. He looked over and panicked, sputtering and stammering,

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" Skittering backward as my boots fell forward, food bags hitting concrete. I walked into him, scales on end, frame squared up, jaw cocked, I wasn't going to hurt him, but you don't stick your hand in a spiders burrow and expect to not get bitten. His back met my bed, he started pissing himself, I couldn't keep it up anymore and began cackling loud enough, everyone below had to have heard it. Somehow, I think my laughter scared him more but I wasn't gonna let up my stance. I bent forward, leaning in with a, "friendly", grin.

"Who are you?" He paused, more nervous than I'd seen him yet, but more still. Cool thing about the eyes, you can read someone like an open book if viewed the right way. They are, the windows to the soul after all, and this one, seemed a hurting one, honest, just lost.

"Well?" My jaw hung loose with the softened tone that slid forth.

"Sh-Sh-Sh-Shawn. My name is Shawn." I'd never heard someone stutter an S before,

"Hello Shawn, why are you here?" Everything naturally tensed up, I could feel my gaze slipping through, head slanting as I studied, which, didn't really help.

"I . . I heard there was a devil, that lived in the sewers. Who dispatches the wicked and saves those whom be preyed upon." Someone went and tossed a pebble into my smooth glass lake, it was all going so well.

"You heard?" Calm, an eerie smooth calm, empty and as dark as a fog filled closet on Halloween, I was rather mum on thought even before he nodded.

"From the mouse, Timothy." I couldn't expect everyone to keep my secret, I had hoped it would've lasted longer though. Never the less,

"Then you're here for....." Tears began streaking his gray furred face again. Sobbing, wiping them away, shaking as he did, somehow managing to find the words.

"I- I can't, take it anymore. I can't continue on as I am, I don't want to hurt anyone." Desperation, pure, and raw, a flame at the end of its wick, trying to pull anything in so as not to go out. Ahh, the lament of the mortal coil, delicious angst waiting to be gobbled up, sometimes, I missed it, but here, here was a feast.

"I was, under the tutelage of Father Maxwell, at St. Lutherans." My ears perked,

"He was helping me learn to control my, urges. Someone torched his office, the parish, throwing him from it. Now, with the new staff, no one will help me, I've been ostracized and abandoned." Shawn's trauma grew bold, like watching a sped up decomp flick in real time. My bed shook with his jitters, face a right mess as he broke, full ugly crying. I didn't want to deal with this, when I go out and seek it, yeah fine, this was fucking bothersome as all hell. It needed to stop, in one fell swoop my cleaver was flush against his throat. Angled against his left jugular, gently rubbing a fur free patch, he froze, watching as I did so. There was enough focus in me, or enough of something in me, to start speaking and not paint my living room a pretty red.

"My name is Ezekiel." Up goes my blade, the wide cleavers edge collecting a nice little pile of shavings.

"I am the one who torched the parish." Down goes my blade, hairs dusting his collar,

"I am the one who threw Father Maxwell from his office." Up goes my blade, he hadn't moved, I swear I heard him pissing again.

"And I, am the devil, you seek." Down goes my blade, metal instrument resting on his collar bone with nothing left to shave off, just a nice jet strip for my knife to land. Both eyes clicked from the blade to his, that simple snap shook him.

"Awful things for awful people, if you will." The sheer, look of terror in that young mans eyes, I relished it.

"Do you want me to kill you?" I'd seen hope fade to panic and despair, but never the other way around. My words seem to wipe the mans worries away, a warm cloth to an unwashed babe, he seemed over joyed at the thought. Nodding and smiling, tears still fell but, they were of, joy?

"Please, PLEASE! Ezekiel, I beg of you, I'm a danger to anyone that comes near. Kill me so I don't hurt a living soul." This didn't feel right, his eyes screamed the torment of a soul writhing in its gibbet, but I saw no guilt, there was still plenty of life there. Shawn gave off the vibe of a lush tropical forest waiting to be explored, not some desolate waste void of life. I sheathed my blade, visibly disappointing him, sitting shotgun on beds edge,

"Shawn, explain these, urges, too me." I'd heard it all, seen it all, done most of it, so whatever was about to grace my ears couldn't be that bad.

"Well, I... have impure thoughts, and fantasies regarding both men and women." Okay, nothing new here, so why, all this? Disinterest drilled through my skull, puppeteering a dragons face,

"Sometimes, I pleasure myself thinking about slating my carnal lust with people I see about the day." His worry grew more apparent,

"That's it?" He nodded, clearly affirmed in his thought train.

"You're joking right?" The disappointment was immeasurable, I guess this is what brain washing does to people who buy into grandeur and eternal fantasy. Or worse, they're spoon fed it from birth, disgusting, even for me.

"Not at all! Father Maxwell assured me if I didn't get control of my urges a lot of people would get hurt. I'm a monster that doesn't deserve to exist." He leveled up his stance, standing before me trying to reassure the belief he should be executed. Piss soaked pants and all. My turn,

"I caught Father Maxwell and the parish torturing a young girl with pots of boiling water." He stopped, face of a shattered glass mirror,

"That little girl that was dropped off at the firehouse, covered in burns, how do you think she got there? And you believe what this person told you, so MUCH so, that you sought out a man who hunts, tortures, and kills pedophiles and the like for leisure, so that he might end your suffering, because, you masturbate, and find people attractive?" I don't think the hamster wheel in Shawn's dome had turned in a good long while, but in that moment, I think the shit encrusted cylinder creaked forward, just a bit. I leaned in, real close,

"Sort yourself out." I practically reached in and planted my point, the thousand yard stare on his face, I wanted to laugh, didn't though. Instead opting for one of my cheap bedside whiskeys, taking a pull and offering it too him,

"What's this?" Shawn sniffed, nose wrinkled,

"Piss water, drink it." Growling as my shirt came off, man the second his eyes came back down over that bottle, he lost it. Covering his face and looking away, slowly taking another nip,

"What?" Scalie brow cocked,

"You're shirt, I'm having, impure thoughts about you." Oh for fucks sake, my eyes just so happened to catch a healthy equine shaped donger flex in his trousers, giving me the perfect idea.

"Shawn, you a virgin?" There wasn't much left of him for the imagination, those dirty rags he wore, I liked what I saw. He nodded,

"I'll make you a deal, give me your virginity, and afterwards, if you still think you're a monster, I'll kill you. Deal?" Boy lemme tell you, the smoke pouring out of his ears during that contemplation, it was a regular fireworks show. Discernment eventually settled,

"Deal." I reached out a hand, as one does to cement a bargain, unfortunately as we shook, he opened that mouth again.

"But what ab-" My head cracked sideways, with one snout plugged, a single farmers blow singed those dingy rags right off. Screw burlesque, the embarrassment had by shy virgins as their clothes flake off in ash is definitely top tier. Redder than a cherry, hands desperately grasping to protect his modesty, surprised me when he caught the piss water,

"Finish it." Bold in tone while I sat bedside, off went my jeans, finally I stood tall, dragons staff throbbing freely. Shawn drained every last drop like a good boy should, joining me where I patted.

"Lay down." He did so, body forming a healthy T right at the waistline. Mmf, I hadn't had a treat like this in awhile, hopefully the liquor would help him last. I started with that clean patch on his neck, a gentle nibble to see how he'd react, oh the cutest moan snuck out while straddling him. Shawn had built a light house right upon my crest, and he was gonna brighten my shores. One claw slipped back to fondle and explore, I knew as soon as I held his flare, there was no way in above or below that this eager beaver was going spelunking without some assistance.

Everyone has their limits, I knew mine, didn't mean my backside was getting service greased either. Retrieving a healthy dollop from the nearby crusty Vaseline tub, my claws slid effortlessly down his shaft several times. Prep work finished by dragging an ok ring, nice and snug, from base to tip. I thought I'd picked up some extra butter while squeezing his tip and I was right. Pulling back my hand, all but a surface coating was gone, replaced by a generous slathering of dick cheese. Normally one would, and should, be disgusted by this, I instead packed the fetid little pearl, from under claw tip, right snug in my lip, Shawn was too boozed up at this point to notice or care. The donkey lay in aw under me at everything I was doing, a living fuck doll at my every beck and call. I raised up enough to get that quivering flare lined up, pressing until he was started,

"Ooh~" Few things in life are as nice or relaxing as that "Ooh", a shared feeling of both being opened up, and graciously parting ones insides. Shawn slid in all the way to the base with relative ease, I'd gotten rather use to equine partners in a past life. Their shape was of a nice nob upfront, followed by a lovely taper, mile stoned at the medial ring, and every, single, last, one, dumped a bucket of foals in you.

Just as the knife had grazed his neck, up went my hips, butthole puckering right at his flare, tugging an eager sphincter. Down went my hips, Shawn's nuts slapped my cheeks, goddamn, I missed being full like this. We both shared a collective moan for a second, his hand touching over the outline formed, tip visibly swelling through darkened ember under scaling.

Memories laced in patina swelled into a rough riding fervor, I bounced and clenched, clawed and bit, while Shawn held on for dear life. We struck a steady rhythm, tenting my wings to assist the thigh clapping sport. Shawn had no clue what to do with his hands besides trying to stay in me, not that I was gonna let him escape. I was surprised when he grabbed my aching cock and started giving a decent handy,

"Hoh~" The longer we fucked, the bigger his flare grew, felt like I was pivoting over a baseball one solid foot in my guts. Meanwhile, Shawn's belly was getting the Bob Ross treatment in dragon seminal, he seemed focused, bound and determined to see what I could produce. I took to rolling S curves through my hips, he'd swelled so much I was practically plugged. Imagine my feigned shagrin when he hadn't cum yet, especially with that medial ring hammering my walnut. We held this pace for a while, not that we could do much else, we were pretty much locked together with his mini melon of a head trapped passed my second O-ring.

"Zeke, I think I'm gonna-" He seized out of nowhere, now that I think of it, Shawn had gone silent right as I'd hilted him. Nothing was gonna change, I simply leaned forward slightly, kept up what I was doing, offering a little encouragement,

"Do it, cum for me, breed me, make me your mare!" I growled, my tail snaking its way down his leg. Shawn's face scrunched, mouth hung agape, whole upper body tensing,

"Ah~AHhah~" Those adorable, maiden few moans when you dump in someone for the first time, and they belonged to me. Ones admiration grew just as the bulge in my lower GI did, spouting its warmth in felled spurts. I laid flat overtop, no risk of him slipping out as stopped up as he had me, with claws on each side of his neck, our lips locked.

First task of order, find his tongue, once acquired test its tact, in Shawn's growing stupor, it was fair to say he was, lost. The combined inexperience and inability to tongue wrestle ushered along my plan. Now, it's good practice to keep the old adage "Turnabout is fair play." tucked in ones coat sleeve, ready to be deployed at all times. I rolled my lower lip, serpent tongue tips scooping up the congealed mass of vinegar and ass. Demonstrating herculean athleticism, arching what could easily pass as soured jerky tendon, and launching it across the battle of maws. Suffice to say it was a direct hit, Shawn's gag reflex immediately responded, a muffled,

"Huagh" was all I got. The second saw our muzzles filled by a geyser of stomach bile and shit whiskey at maximum pressure. Roiling acid arched, hosing my uvula thoroughly, rebounding back down upon another putrid eruption. Our lips snapped sideways in opposite directions, Shawn blasting wasted whiskey off my bed. I sat up, looking down at him and him up at me, bile streaked face panting. Curiosity got the better of me, tongue flicking up to check, yep, stomach bile and whiskey. I swallowed,

"Wow, you're amazching." Shawn complimented, flexing against my insides.

"Thanks." I swallowed again just to clear the pipes, thumb claw swiping my lips. Time, space, my little corner of the sewers, it all stopped, on pause for a bit, in awe at what had just happened. Our sweet, post anal trauma moment, interrupted by the gurgle of my bowels,

"So, still want me to kill you?" This had been nice, mouth stained with the tang of bile, not cumming, and all. He seemed much more, whole.

"Hah, are you kidding me?" Shawn shuffled, pulling himself free, that sucking wet shclop and the falls that came after made me chuckle.

"Hooh." Moaning, my now empty insides weren't happy with their wriggling meal, the waning afterglow made up for it. Shawn walked out toward the end of the pipe, stumbling a tad, exploring life with a new set of eyes. He turned,

"Thish, thisch changes everything." And a new life dawns, the boy hath become a man, I his alchemist.

"There'sch, sho much to life I have to queschtion now. I'm gonna explore, and schee everything!" The jubilation was palpable, even in shedding his innocence, innocently though it were, for some, it can be a game changer. Arms held out at his sides, he was still stepping back...

"Thank you Zeke." I reached out to him too late,

"WATCH TH-" Our young burrow with a new lease on life, disappeared over the edge. No scream, as he fell, just a dull pang and a pop, an oversized egg colliding with pavement. I stepped to look down, ass on fire, tail trailing Shawn's foals, both his and their plight in vain. From the pipes mouth I could see him at the bottom, vomit streaked face snapped at a right angle, he must've landed face down. Lowest outcrop sporting a fresh coat of red dripping off, I stood their, eyes flicking over everything for what seemed an eternity.

In moments like these, I can't help but think what a gift life is. How some waste it, others squander it, and how the outliers, take it. None of this changes that, whether short or long, it's an experience to be known. In Shawn's case, at least he was able to know he wasn't the monster that everyone told him he was.

And silence wept.

*****

"Nice ass, gonna fuck him later?" Finally, a voice that matched the ghast, whispering right in my ear. After my mid twenties I didn't have much left to fear, what was anybody gonna show me I hadn't seen? Physical pain? Death? When you enjoy one and the other courts you at every flippant opportunity, there's not much left to see. So, when I say, this man, creeped, THE SHIT, out of me, understand the weight of his presence, I was fascinated.

Turning, there was nothing but shadow in my little pipe den, it was from those very same shadows a rather tall, lithe fox slid from. He didn't step, his movements were more of a glide, a corporeal phantom with the sleaziest comb over to ever exist. I saw two yellow eyes come into view, face and form slowly joining,

"Hello Ezekiel." The cheeky shit was wearing a bloodied and scorched priests garb,

"You like it?" Grinning, he'd caught my eyes replaying the scene,

"A friend made it for me." His grin sharpened, that voice was a confident male treble.

"And you are?" I will admit, he had my attention, foxes aside, I can still count the number of times someone's intrigued me like this on one hand. Those rare happy moments when two junkyard dogs sniff each other out, and get along, you know, instead of ripping the others throat out. He bowed,

"You may call me, Church." Incense and death wafted freely from this man. I will say it matched him well,

"And what do you want?" Two, not one, but two people had found, bothered me, in my own home. I thought I was being more careful, covering my tracks, apparently I should've posted a fucking billboard with a large arrow that blinks, pointing RIGHT HERE.

Today was giving me a head ache, instead of answering, he held out a business card. No text, relatively void of color or depth at all, not even the flat assurance of paper seemed present. I stared through a window into an endless space, void of light, conveniently pocket sized.

"What do you see?" This was testing my patience,

"I see a fox about to get a boot in his dick." Is what I would've said were I answering honestly,

"Endless hunger, a space that forever craves, and something, else. . ." In no certainty could I see any detail, but from within that card, something called. It looked into me just as I bore into it,

"Wonderful, I knew you'd be a good fit." Church snapped up the card, offering me a charred bit of jagged glass, similar in size.

"The fuck is this?" It was weightless in hand, nothing more than what I saw,

"If you're ever in a pinch, put your own blood on it." Church turned, walking off as he'd entered, form fading in shadow,

"Salvation, does, have its price." He called once more, I waited until the energy settled, walking over to touch where he'd come and gone from.

"Yup, still brick." Just whom, had I met?

The fuck was today? I need a nap.