UNEXPECTED. (Mature Readers Only, please.)

      *** (Graphic descriptions and adult content.)                                                   

                                                     - Welcome to Hell -

As if surviving the bombs, Marshall Law, thieving and selfish chaos of The Apocalypse of Civilized Society (ACS; The Axe) in the womb of an escaped prisoner wasn't challenge enough, Tavia Tannen, an Axe Baby Generation woman, was now just one of an increasingly small number of women not forcibly protected, molested, and bred by the ruling factions of men; which meant she was also constantly hunted. Hunted even now.

Her blue, currently sky-bright eyes, stared under furrowed brows at the posted likeness of her endearing and timeless face nailed to a long-useless power-pole. The gentle sketch of her visage and lazy dark curls made the warning under it "ARMED AND DANGEROUS" seem rather unbelievable-- enough to make her scoff even while she caught her breath. Though, the reward just below that warning, "FIRST CUM" explained very clearly why they depicted her in such a way. Most men these days only got to have sex with women if they were chosen to breed, or claimed a bounty such as hers.

Tavia wrinkled the recycled paper with a gloved fist and tore it off the pole with a flash of anger that heated her body to a degree rivaling the humid squelch of the Florida summer; Flor-E-da summer, which claimed more lives every year, yet not as many as she was going to have to take just to make it off the block.

"Ya sahrounded dove, no uses ta run." A booming and coarse baritone voice taunted, presumably the Leader of a pack of men-- like wolves, hungry, surrounding her on the sidewalks, roof-tops and the cracked pavement itself all around where she stood. His voice echoed in such a way she couldn't tell who the speaker was among them.

Crumpled poster in hand she took inventory of the hunting party and their weaponry as they oogled her through custom body armor that had survived her past six similar pack-attacks this year alone. The once white sheathing for the plated armor was beat up and browned by dried blood, only a little of it hers. The only down-side to the protective suit was its weight, which slowed her down but not enough to keep her from being quicker than most of the men she was looking at. Many of them malnourished and thin or fattened up on all the artificial foods, half a dozen probably getting some healthy protein in their diet.

"Only one man can claim the bounty right? Only one man can be first..." Tavia pointed out as she raised the balled up poster, side-stepped along a rusted car and turned around to eye all of them; looking for the one most likely to make the first move. A little to her surprise, they all turned to look at one man. Tall dark and handsome came to her mind, skin as pitched as an iron skillet -- eyes like a lush jungle, one haunted by a psychopathic specter.

"Dey all fight fer-me lid'le-dove an' I don mind if yer a'bit broken," Tall Dark and Sadistic replied tauntingly and with a grin best described as maliciously prideful.

Tavia's naturally sculpted brows popped up over her eyes as she huffed in disbelief-- the guy was actually looking at her like the pistols on her left hip and right shoulder holster didn't matter anymore than her body-armor which sounded a little like chain-mail when she shifted her weight and shrugged her shoulders tossing the crumpled poster.

It was as much genuine dismissal of his self-assurance as it was a distraction for her quick-draw action; both guns to double her chances. Her left hand reached across for the 9mm Glock in her right shoulder holster and her right hand drew the .357 magnum Ruger revolver from her left hip-- two bullets pinged off her hip and one dented a panel on her right shoulder. Her dominant hand's aim was thus thrown off but her left hand held the smaller caliber gun true and fired a single round putting the sadist down.

It was her best chance; forcing the men to fight for themselves and therefore, with each-other which began before the dark man's body hit the pavement. Several more shots rang out, none of them hers, dropping bodies as quickly as the rest started closing in on her. A few more bullets ricocheted off her armor from up-high as she picked her targets and started squeezing off rounds-- two from the 9mm for every one from the .357 and every shot calculated for movement to hit home center-mass of their craniums.

Tavia got nine rounds out, total, and only missed twice-- which was still two too many. Someone tackled her from behind before she could squeeze the last few rounds out and she hit the ground with a loud grunted skid, one-hundred-sixty pounds or so heavier. The 9mm was lost to a twitch of her weaker left hand, the revolver still in a firm grip, was turned behind her over her own shoulder and squeezed. She could tell by the splatter on the ground and the instantaneous flaccid state of the body on her back, that she'd successfully opened the back of his mind to the world.

While the dark-haired young (though old by Axe standards) woman started to roll the dead-body off her, there was a mass of tangled men tripping over their fallen forms before hitting the rusted car in a fight to the death. It helped as much as it hurt, rolling the body off, catching a toe to her brow and the weight of a man stepping on her side-- the armor took most of the impact but she was briefly winded. No time to breathe though, a large portly man hooked his fingers on the neckline of her suit and growled out the effort to hoist her up so another man could disarm her. They were smart to work together because Tavia was soon stripped of the .357 and hurled across the street into another rusted car which rattled on the impact of her armored frame. Though, not as much as her brain when her head whipped back and dented the door; she thought she was done for.

Half sitting, half slouched against the car struggling to keep her consciousness she watched fireballs erupt all across the ground. It took a few blurry blinks for Tavia to smell the burning oil and eventually hear the few screaming men who'd been unfortunate enough to catch fire in the splash-zone. None of it near her.

As she contemplated who threw them and whether or not she'd broke her spine or had simply been stunned into paralysis, a man blocked her vision just as a meaty-hand sunk into her hair under the bungee-tie of her ponytail, popping it out (and some of her hair) as he yanked her up shouting "She's mine, you disagree you die!"

Once more Tavia fought to get her barrings, though she was relieved to feel her feet under her and her legs holding even if her balance was still off. She balled a fist and let it fly toward the claiming man's sternum which caught him off guard enough to make him grunt but he also jerked her head back stealing her balance. That moment was apparently opening enough for someone else to shoot him in the throat, freeing her to topple to the street in the arterial shower.

Most unexpected, there was a hand there to catch the back of her head from hitting another hard surface in the fray. To her dismay, several large caliber rounds fired just above her head and made church-bells of her ear-drums while she endured a few shell-casing burns to her forehead. She kept her eyes squinted shut to avoid being blinded by one.

When the gunshots finally stopped there was muffled shouting and another hand snaking under her arm. As soon as her leather-wrapped hand made contact with a shoulder she was being lifted over it. The man seemed like he was trying to be gentle with her but the sudden movement and ringing in her ears made her feel nauseous-- made worse by being half hung upsidedown. If she did throw up, she was unawares because she blacked out.

                                                           - Take a Break-

The familiar voice of Barry White singing, Ain't no Sunshine when she's gone, was the first thing Tavia noticed as she began to regain consciousness. She only knew the voice and the song from a mixed CD her mother used to play out of a kinetically charged two-speaker boombox. For a moment, she wondered if she was back home but then she began to notice other things that told her she wasn't.

For starters, the sound quality of Barry's voice and the relaxing back beat where far clearer and smooth than static tainted tones the retrofitted boombox was capable of; too, she smelled sage among the faint aroma of cooked meat and a clean man. She lived alone. The only men who ever passed into her abode where usually plucked right from the grime of survival, hog-tied and gagged until she was ready to talk to them.

Soon, Tavia realized the bed she was in wasn't hers, it was too firm and the sheets too... silky. In that instant of awareness, she remembered the hunting party, and noticed she was naked in an over-sized bundle of fluffy cotton. A robe. Not hers. A mans. Her mind raced with question and conclusions (the hunting party, being taken, that she was pulled out of her armored suit and bathed at the least)-- her heart double-thudded in her chest and shocked her into a sober (slightly panicked) consciousness, which flailed her body into a rise.

As those blues got their first blinking view, in her flounder to sit-up, she saw a burly, double-barreled chest taking up the entire expanse of her vision while yet again, the man's hand kept her from smacking her head. This time, against the headboard as her feet kicked under the sheet, to use the bed as leverage to scoot back as she sat suddenly upright. He spoke, but she was slow to hear it. Her perception of time was warped in the flood of adrenaline, twisted into a contrasting cocktail of fear and arousal; lungs seized by his proximity, and the protective curl of his hand against the back of her head-- a few well-worked digits that filtered through her still lightly-saturated dark coils of hair.

"Easy there... I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd wake so soon," his voice was a soothingly low baritone, just slightly graveled by hard use, "I meant to have us both dressed-- "

When she did hear him, and catch-up to the words as they came out of his mouth..Tavia cut him off with a hard palm into the center of his chest, pushing him back far enough for her to see his face, the rest of the room, and encourage him to take his hand out of her damp curls. His expression was cautious, his hand pulled back-- the room was full of lavish old things in bright colors, especially red, which somehow brought out the amber hues to his soulful brown eyes, wearily focused on her face, yet still watched all of her.

The silence was mere seconds long, but had her as entrapped as her pounding heart and desperate lungs in their bone cage. The smell of a proper bath clung to them both, and the robe she clutched shut seemed to be of the same fluffy cotton fabric as the towel clinging to the impressively sculpted muscle around his hips, just low enough for her wandering eyes to catch the loin-pulsing cut of his pelvis.

Her mental questions were drown out by the observation of him, the foundation of washboard abs, his relaxed, yet thick pectorals and broad shoulders; all firmly rolling in scarred and inked caramel covered flesh; supporting a thick neck and strong jaw, brought out by his shaved head. A man carved of war and survival.

The scars marked him a survivor of melee and projectile combat. The burns on his raised forearms suggested he was the fire-starter-- the one who threw the burn-bombs into the hunting party to even the odds and create a fire barrier. The faded nature of most of the tattoo's on his upper-body implied, he might be twice her age and alive during the time before The Axe.

With his hands up, his forearms framed his torso, which sparked as much heat in her body as it did assurance he meant her no harm. He continued where he left off, kept his voice level and sincere when he spoke again, "I swear on an excruciating death I was a complete gentlemen .. aside from observed appreciation;" he smirked faintly, "I have no interest in the bounty, or raping you."

His confession should have appalled her, but it made her heart thud hard and her cheeks flush with the rush of blood, and warmth, of unexpected arousal. It was a combination of his good looks, manner of speech, seemingly benevolent intentions and oddly enough... being clean and not having had to wash all the blood off herself. As far as she could tell, he was being truthful, though if he had fondled or groped her and was a good liar, she doubted she'd know for sure either way.

Tavia was panting a little, sitting up with her back pressed hard against the headboard, though, he was calm enough for the both of them that she managed to swallow her pulse so she could ask, "Why... Why did you save me?"

He smirked a little once more, the expression warming his handsomely weathered face. "A young woman resourceful enough to have custom body armor, sharpshooting talent, and the gall to face bad odds, is a woman worth having around. "

She liked his conviction and lack of hesitation in answering. It was only apparent to her then, he was impressed not just by her physique but her ingenuity, skill and will-power as well. It was quite flattering and not the least bit helpful to quell the burn of long denied passion and new natural attraction. He must have noticed, because he lowered his hands, one to the knot of the towel and the other to the bed in support of his slow lean toward her, with a truthfully taunting whisper from his lips.

"I was going to offer clothes while I carve the roast but you seemed to be hungry for something else.."

As his voice trailed off he was close enough that her comparably small hand was on his chest again. He paused, yet only as far as the pressure of her hand stopped him-- his mouth a breath away from hers.

Tavia struggled to counter,"What? --No.. I..."

"Don't say anything," he replied, in a heavy whisper, and brushed his lips across hers in a test of whether or not she'd push him away.

There was something exceptionally erotic about the power of his insistence in silence. Knowing he wanted to rely on the push of her hand against the thick curl of his hair covered chest, to tell him how comfortable she was with what he was doing. Tavia couldn't resist testing him back, pushing just enough to keep his lips from sinking in against hers. She could feel him smile. Like it amused him that she'd make him wait just to see if he would. There was more to it than that, but his smile against her mouth tempted her into testing the feel of his lips in a chaste kiss.

He hummed a low moan, like even such a tender touch was a pleasure worth indulging in, and it sunk into Tavia with lustful inspiration. The hand she had on his chest began to slide up toward his neck as her back arched off the headboard; he stopped her hand with a cup of his over hers, and pinned it above his heart. She could feel it pumping as hard and fast as her own, as clearly as she could feel his free hand take advantage of the gap between her back and the headboard, so he could pull her into him-- legs still tangled in the sheet and all. His lips pressed into hers, and opened them to allow the curl of his tongue to find her own as he inhaled her scent.

At first, she couldn't resist lifting her free hand to the jut of his jawline, in a pull to harden the mash of their mouths, any more than she could stop herself from rolling her spine and spreading her thighs (under the sheet) to slide around his as he lifted them both and laid her on her back, more centered across the bed. Though, when his hips nestled between her thighs, and she could feel the girth of his arousal through the sheet, absent his towel, she realized what she was about to do, and felt an overwhelming ping of doubt.

Without warning, amid a shuddering moan, Tavia used her hand to push against his chest and tare his lips from hers. Blues blinked rapidly up to amber eyes as her thighs squeezed against the outside of this hips, to try to keep him from grinding into her further. Their pulses were as potent between the sheets, as in the fleshy wrap of their heaving chests. She watched his eyes drift down at the new view exposed by the separation of her robe. His gaze stalled her mind into lust-drunk fascination, in the way her breasts seemed to react to such observed visual stimulation. Nipples peaked and mammary flesh was taut with sexual tension and desire to be touched with the same want as his prompting thus far-- but she held her hand firm against his chest, which he thankfully helped support by settling his free hand against the bed beside her.

"You have more passion than you know ... If you don't want to embrace it with me, we won't, but don't be afraid of it." His voice was a whisper she heard and felt rumbling through his chest, with the rapid cadence of his heart. His eyes giving her the respect of full contact and open lack of judgment.

While he seemed careful not to let his expression exude the carnal drive that flooded his system, there was little he could do to mask the t h r o b b i n g length of extended muscle, which pinned the slowly saturating sheet to the soft wet puff of her nether lips. Tavia's free hand explored his jawline, toward his lips, while she tried to think. It was more difficult than trying to think amid an attack, and before she realized it, her elbow bent and relieved the pressure on his chest like an invitation her subconscious gave for her.

He took it. Why wouldn't he? His lean was too quick for her to take it back, his hot mouth connecting with the supple flesh of her throat, and a grind of his hips that took the last of her reservations away.

Without his lips engaged with hers, she moaned aloud and her feet found footing on the bed, to give her hips the rolling leverage she needed to arch into his grind. He growled a moan of his own into her neck as he abandoned her hand to pull the sheet free from between their bodies-- likewise giving her eager hips a momentary reprieve, while his lips kept her shoulders pinned to the bed.

The swoosh of the sheet over her knees created a draft that cooled the natural lubricating nectar that pooled out of her ripe body, which made her flinch and him grin against her jaw as he kissed and raked his teeth across it toward her lips. Her savior replaced the cool air with the pulsing heat of arousal hardened muscle, feeling her shudder an inhale against the hover of his lips, as he slid tip-to-root through those sickened folds-- without yet penetrating her. Allowing her a moment to not only feel the physical manifestation of his desire, but too, the potential depth with which he wanted to bury himself inside her.

Tavia's hands snaked under his arms to explore and grip his back, her fingertips anchors for her resounding, moaning yes, punctuated by the pumping roll of her hips and nipping kiss against his lips. He buried his face against hers first, as he arched his back and rolled his hips, to set the tip of his lust against her labia; he devoured the passion of her carnal blushed lips with more fervor than as he nestled his fleshy sword into the silken sheath of her wanton body. When he did push the softer head of his steely sinew through the tight opening of velvet walls, he was paused by her gasping jolt.

"Don't-stop.." Tavia whispered with the pant of her breaths and the slow, short, gyration of her hips.

He didn't hesitate to comply, and groaned with her moan as he rocked his hips in short rolls; a little deeper and back, a little deeper and back again. Her hands were frozen along his spine but her thighs continued to flex outside of his, in her counter-grid to work the swollen extension of his manhood to the core of her slick, gripping inner channel.

He wrapped his arms around her, down her back and dragged his cheek across hers to plant his pant in her ear. It was the most intoxicating sound, only outdone by the feel of gentle veined-ridges sliding against the ill-prepared grip of her feminine walls. The deeper he got the tighter he squeezed her, and the more her thighs shook not to stop the rocking plunge to her most intimate depths. He nipped at her neck and groaned into her ear, like it took effort not to ram-home and ravage her.

Tavia's entire body was in an electric shock of heated pleasure, induced by both the physical sensation of his penetration into her body, and the lick into the graces of her soul for his restraint; the arousal was plenty enough to drown the slight twinges of pain she felt for the way his hardened desire stretched her all the way in. Her hands raced firmly up his back to his shoulder blades, to hug his thick chest to the warm pillow of her breasts, rather than clamp her thighs around his hips in a desperate attempt not to impede the reach of his rod.

The man kissed her neck just under her ear, and exhaled against the moist flesh as he rocked the last few thrusts until his pubic bone was nestled against hers, and the bundle of pleasure-nerves trapped between them. He held onto her as she arched and rolled against him, her vocals caught between moaning exhales and short gasping inhales. He could almost hear her say it, though she didn't. Don't stop, the words echoed in his mind and drove him to use that curve of her pelvic bone as a pivot point; he churned his throbbing shaft inside her swollen channel as she physically, and otherwise, adjusted to his carnal invasion.

Slender digits pressed into his shoulder blades hard enough that her trim fingernails started to bite into his flesh-- if he minded, she couldn't tell. Had she been thinking clearly, she might have considered it fueled him, for his short rolling pumps got more rapid and full. She could feel him draw his hips back in an arch that flattened his abdomen briefly to hers, before it was his pelvis making full contact; pushing a hot moan out of her lips. Tavia's nipples were like hard pebbles against his chest, peaking so firmly it almost hurt (or perhaps that was the result of her breasts being pancaked to his chest so she wouldn't slide off the bed.)

As Tavia dropped her head back against the bed in a full extension of her throat, he lifted a hand up under the nape of her neck to hold her there -- arched like that. His lips snared her ear lobe for a suckled nibble before he brushed those thick lips against the shell of her ear. The whisper that warmed her and seized her body with excitement, may have been heard from betwixt those thick lips, but it came from deep within his chest: "I'm going to make you overload." He had to, he knew he wasn't going to last long with such raw need begging for release, nor was he going to finish first.

It excited her, there was no mistaking that with the way she literally held her breath, even while she raked her teeth along his jawline in anticipation. His next thrust forced the breath out with a grunted huff that was sucked into a slow release moan, which bounced in octave with the hardened and quickened pace of his gyrating hips. Her hands struggled to keep their grip as perspiration slickened her grasp so, she reached further and curled her fingers over his flexing shoulders.

Her adjustment lifted her arms completely off the bed, and they both shifted forward enough her head dropped off the edge. He laid more directly on her and cradled her head with the firm nestle of his fingers in her hair and against her scalp. His stroke shortened inside her, but didn't slow down, or become any less intense in his digging grind to play at her most sensitive depths, while also pinning her pleasure-button between the hard pivot of their pelvic bones. He could feel her on the brink, and had to press the bite of his teeth into her shoulder a bit, to push her through it without loosing himself.

Tavia finally wrapped her legs high around his waist, heels grazing across the flexing curve of his rear, as an extra anchor for the convulsing burst of pleasure that took hold of her body. His teeth may have pressed hard enough to leave an impression, but he never actually bit a pinch of her flesh and that difference sent her over the edge. She gasped for air until her lungs seized, and she was forced to hold it while the earthquake and electric storm rumbled through her in an orgasmic threat to black out her consciousness. It was then that she felt the hot flood of seed burst into her, like a steaming geyser from the cradle of life.

As he growled through the initial break of his hold, he plunged himself into her as far as their bodies would allow, and pumped himself into her with wild abandon. His vigor was fueled by the shake of her body, and the subsequent splash of feminine fluid thrust out of her every time he jerked his release into her womb. Groaning with the sloshing sounds of his desperate desire to empty himself in her receptive and fluttering core, he lifted his mouth from her shoulder and pressed his cheek to hers, once more huffing in her ear.

Tavia was utterly lost in the moment,  she felt everything and nothing at the same time, as if she was both in and out of her body. Her bliss seeped out in a hushed-hiss-of-an-exhale while his grinding ceased and their bodies exchanged twitched aftershocks of the mututal climax; basking in a heat the Florida summer couldn't touch.

If she had her way, they'd stay like that and go to sleep-- but the toll was taken, and her body now craved actual food.

                                                  - to be continued? -

|| another_proser ||