Take Me Out

1 - I Work Alone

warnings:  graphic depiction of murder, blackmail, suicidal thoughts/actions, OCD/mental illness, smut

***

By the time you drive to the house he directs you to, quiet blue shutters and a pale yellow paint that looks like it is going to peel off at any time, Jake has his hand so far up your thigh you are tempted to chop it off. Just this once you'd break your no blood rule.

You cut the ignition and follow Jake into the house, you aren't afraid of him, the backup needle in your kit makes it so you have the upper hand. It would only take a moment to pull it out and inject the deadly substance into his neck. He walks with a confidence that pisses you off, he brings you inside, past empty bookshelves lining the hallway and into an office space. Shutting the door he pushes you up against it, hand resting lightly on your throat. You grin, playing along as one of your hands slips up his shirt, resting against the cool skin there as he trails kisses along your jaw. They are more like predatory bites, soothed by a tongue and then lightly pecked. He's marking you as his own.

You growl as the grip on your neck gets tighter, you hope the noise distracts him from the sound of the zipper and your fingers expertly uncapping the needle. Just as you pinch his nipple he groans, that gives you the opportunity to raise the needle, aiming for the sliver of skin on his tummy you managed to expose with your other groping hand.

His grip tightens on your throat, cutting off all your air as his other hand wraps around your wrist, twisting it and causing a cry to fall from your lips as the needle falls.

"So you do have another one of those needles," he mutters.

"Fuck off," you knee him in the groin, he twists your wrist harder and you howl in pain before he kisses you, teeth and tongues clashing as he slams your wrist against the door.

"Now, you're going to tell me what's it that needle," Jake presses his body against yours, rendering you slightly helpless as he breathes in your neck.

"Can you let go of my fucking neck you asshole?"

"No, because then you'll run away."

"So what?"

"So what is I don't want a pretty thing like you getting away from me so quickly."

"You have me," you whisper, mainly because he isn't giving you much else of an option with his bruising grip.

"Good," he all but flings you onto the large oak desk, his hips press against your ass and your hand search for purchase as he starts to pull your jeans down.

"You want this?"

"Ah," you moan, pushing yourself back against him.

"Yes or no honey," he whispers, fingers trailing along the bare skin of your hips.

"Yes, fuck, please," you whine and you really shouldn't be begging to get fucked by a stranger, no matter how hot he was you should definitely not be having sex with another serial killer, but it's been so long since you allowed yourself something like this. So you moan as he pulls your jeans down, panties easily coming with them.

"Good, because I'm going to fucking destroy you."

//

And he isn't lying, that's for sure.

You don't get the chance to turn your head to look at Jake before his fingers glide through your folds, teasing your clit and making sure you're wet enough for him.

"You like this? Get off on danger? On the thrill of fucking a stranger?" Jake smirks, his belt buckle digging into the skin of your ass as he kicks your feet apart, tapping his cock against your clit.