Chain Of Pleasure

Chapter 13

She takes no chances and does as he demands, even after she watches the caravan ship out of the camp from the upstairs window.

Marceline licks her lips slowly and then looks back at the bed, the open bathroom door and the silence around her. She trembles once and rubs her arms thoroughly up and down her upper arms, wet hair clinging to her shoulder blades. She doesn't know what to do with herself, doesn't know if she should. . .do something in the first place. Should she sleep? Should she eat? Should she do some picking around like her brain begs but also knows better than to do? Marceline gives the blanket on the bed a longing glance but passes it, holding her arms over her chest as she descends the steps to the living room.

First order of business - lock the door.

She feels only a small margin of comfort when that is done, looking around the room with a look of loss on her face. He hadn't said anything but to sit here. . .naked, and certainly hadn't told her how long he would be gone.

So she definitely wasn't gonna risk covering herself.

Marceline sighed and walked into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and frowning at the only thing inside - alcohol. No food in sight, so she opened the cabinets and found them clean and empty.

"Really," she shook her head. "This is ridiculous. . ."

What did he do for food - whatever?

Marceline just shook her head and shuffled into the living room, eyes roaming over the table draped over with maps and the duffel of clothes he had left behind. She chewed on her lip a little, reaching onto the bag and she began to pull out the clothes. It wasn't much, but they all appeared like they would fit her okay, whenever he decided to let her out them on; the jeans were kind of small though. She folded the clothes neatly and put it back into the bag, carrying that gingerly upstairs and putting it beside the bed.

Marceline sighed yet again, looking around the room in a decidedly bored manner before she decided to open the top drawer of the bedside table. There were bullets scattered inside, some spent and some still heavy in her hands. There were tightly folded maps and an old wallet filled with money and cards; his? She pushed those aside, c*****g her head slightly when she found the photo at the bottom of the drawer, close to the back and sealed with a money clip to a old, ragged square of tan fabric.

She kept the photo and fabric together as she lifted them out of the drawer, staring at the picture and the boy in it, the couple smiling around him. Edward and his parents? He didn't seem the type for sentimentality, and what was with the dingy, worn piece of fabric it was clipped to?

Marceline jumped when there was a rattle of the door handle downstairs and then a rough knock. Her heart leapt into her throat and she dropped the photo back into the drawer, slamming it closed before she went to run downstairs - but she stopped at the top of the steps. She was naked, she couldn't answer the door like. . .she sighed and grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapping it tightly around her before she walked downstairs.

She brushed aside the curtain over the window, swallowing thickly when she saw the angel - Castiel - standing outside, a gun slung over his shoulder. She unlocked the door, cheeks hot as she shuffled back to let him in, clenching the sheet tight around her.

"Hello, Marceline," Castiel said in that gruff voice, boots thumping on the floor. He looked back at her as she shut the door softly, eyes wide on him. "Oh, I did not realize -"

"He ordered me to not cover myself until he got back," she whispered, keeping herself close to the door. "But. . .well, I couldn't uh. . ."

"Yes, yes," Castiel nodded and Marceline breathed a small, shaky sigh. "I came to apologize to you," she looked up at him in curiosity. "For what you have to go through because of our failings," he shook his head. "And for Edward's treatment, he was not always so. . .rough around the edges, but he seemed marginally kinder when he left for the city."

She wouldn't even entertain the thought of it having to do with her.

"That's not only why you came over here," he arched an eyebrow at her. "You've been. . .staring at me so intensely since you came in, there's something you want to see."

He didn't say anything for a long time, fingers flexing around the strap of his gun. What was hs going to try? Did he want to f**k her while Edward was gone? Did he want to just stare at her like that?

"Your tattoos," she grew a look of suspicion and tightened her fingers in the knot over her chest. "There is something about them that gives me suspicions. You do not know where you got them?"

"From some men that slaughtered the camp I was staying in," she said slowly. "They killed everyone and tattooed me, and left. That's it."

Castiel hummed and took a soft step towards her, which made Marceline jump. The tattoos weren't her most proud blemish, they now pit an ominous feeling in her gut. With the interest of an angel, they couldn't mean anything good.

"I apologize if I have upset you," Marceline looked up at Castiel, who had a genuinely apologetic look on his face. "It was not my intention you have to understand."

Marceline let her lips twitch towards a smile before she swallowed thickly and shook her head. "Its okay," she mumbled. "Its impossible for anything else to really upset me after. . .well, I don't have to spell it out, do I?"

Castiel shook his head and grimaced. "Please, do not," he paused. "You are hungry," he c****d his head. Marceline gave him a strange look and Castiel gestured to the tiny kitchen area. "You did not eat last night and there is no food in here," he reached into the heavy coat on his shoulders, producing a brown plastic bag. "You must be hungry, especially after. . ."

He didn't finish his sentence and Marceline felt her skin heat up, reaching out and stretching the raw bite on her throat when she grabbed the bag from Castiel's hand. It wasn't anything particularly special, some definitely stale trail mix but her stomach snarled in response to the sight of granola and raisins rolling inside. She looked up at Castiel and gave him a broad smile, bobbing her head once.

"Thank you, Castiel," she mumbled. "All he has is alcohol. . ." She cut herself off. "Thank you. Um. . .can I ask you a question?"

Castiel arched an eyebrow and waved a hand at her. "By all means."

Marceline reached up and pushed a strand of hair out of her lashes. "Could I have just. . .walked up here and asked to join," she swallowed thickly.

Castiel didn't say anything for a long time, lips slightly pursed before he sighed and shook his head. "To be honest. . .no, we are running low on food as it is. . .but Edward accepted the offer you gave him anyway. A handful of our people are not happy about the arrangement, though I am sure for the females that is for a different reason," he paused. "So, in short, no. You would have been turned away at the gate."

Marceline nodded softly and shifted her weight. "I figured as much," she sighed. "Every other time I've tried to join a new group. . .they either try to take what I gave Edward or they try to kill me. I was hunted for three days by cannibals. . .it didn't take humans long to turn into animals."

She remembered the nights she spent hiding under cars, in building and closets, once in the muck beneath an old mobile home. She'd heard men r****g a young girl in there and had hated herself ever since for letting it happen - but there was no way she would have been able to do a damn thing, and she knew that. They would have given her the same treatment and she'd be dead; she definitely preferred Edward and his commands to the Hell she had endured on her own.

"You are. . .marginally safe now, Marceline," she blinked, focusing on Castiel again, who was offering her a soft smile through that scruffy beard. "Edward may seem a bit cruel most of the time, but he will not let harm come to you if there is a choice. We look out for our own around here, know that."

Marceline gave him another smile. "I believe you, Castiel," she nodded. "I think I'm going to sleep now. . .after I eat," she wagged the trail mix in the air as she reached for the doorknob. "After I eat some of this. I'm starved."

Castiel chuckled and stepped onto the threshold of the door, giving her a small smile. "It'll get better, Marceline."

She furrowed her brow slightly at him, ready to speak but he was walking away; he whistled lightly as he went. Marceline hesitated again and shut the door softly, locking it again as she shuffled towards the stairs.

She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair back and folding a leg beneath her. The blanket shrugged down around her as she tore open the trail mix and Marceline sighed, grabbing a handful. It was stale, as she thought it would be, but it tasted divine on her tongue.

She looked over at the crumpled sheets, the flakes of things that made her cheeks heat and her thighs tingle; her ass was still sore where she sat.

The room still smelt like them, their coupling and his distinct musk; she had no smell, only smelt like him now.

Marceline releases a heavy sigh and crumpled the edge of the bag, setting it on the rickety side table before she stretched out on the bed. She unfolded the blanket from her skin, trembling slightly as she bore herself to no eyes. This was what she had signed up for basically, to do as he commanded, when he commanded. . .she'd made herself a piece of meat, a dog that showed its belly.

He's pissed off because the door was locked.

But the sight of her on the bed makes it kind of worth it.

He'd never had a girl offer herself to him like she had, body and soul it seemed; he hadn't actually expected her to do what he said, he'd been gone hours. Sure, there were plenty of women around the camp, but he never did like the sloppy seconds of men he had just come back from a run with, it was just too close to home. And yeah, they were low on rations and other supplies - and he was pretty sure he couldn't use that tight f*****g p***y of her's as a dog in the fight - but he wasn't gonna let this little one go.

He kind of liked her and her stupid idea of offering herself, it was so apocalypse - oh wait, it was the apocalypse.

Edward unclipped his thigh holster and noisily let the gun clatter against the side table; she barely stirred, only grumbled softly and rolled onto her side. He chuckled and, once he was unclothed, he moved to the foot of the bed and reached for her hips. His eyes watched her face scrunch up in half-awareness as he turned her onto her back, pulling her to the edge and pushing her thighs over his shoulders.

"Heavy f*****g sleeper," he murmured when she only hummed in her sleep.

She sighed when his tongue drug up between her folds, a sound that pulled something from him, but he ignored that and twisted his head, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. He was never one to savagely eat a girl out, not unless she asked for it. He preferred to trade and drag it out as long as possible, and the tactic seemed to be working even if she was unconscious. She sighed and cooed, chest heaving slightly with rapidly ragged breath as he teased the tip of her clit with his tongue.

She grunted when he began to insert a finger slowly into her, the muscles of her stomach rolling and tightening when he added a second. Her lips popped open and he smirked when he saw her eyes fluttering open, a moan sliding through her lips. She crooked an elbow and looked down at him, the expression on her face absolutely delightful to him before she tossed her head back and proceeded to quiver into the sheets and her hips rolled up against his mouth.

"Such a good girl," he murmured against her now dripping s*x, his fingers moving in and out of her; the sight was lewd and dirty and she couldn't help but look down at him again. "Listened to me, didn't you? Are you a good girl?"

She moaned and rocked her head softly in the pillows, her cheeks on fire; embarrassment, fear, arousal - so hard to tell from this angle. He c****d his head when she bucked her hips up to his hand and proceeded to pull his fingers from her.

Which she didn't like, at all.

She whined low in her throat and fisted her hands into the sheets, giving him a desperate look. He hummed and licked the sheen from his fingers while she watched and panted, his eyes never leaving hers.

He always did love control of any kind.

"Were you a good girl today," he murmured and leaned closer to her, his breath wafting teasingly over her p***y and making her groan. "I gotta know because. . .well, good girls get orgasms, bad girls get spankings."

She tensed up and he grinned boldly up from between her thighs; only he could look so evil with shiny lips. Marceline licked her own and her breath hitched when he lazily ran his tongue a hairs breath away from her lips, up and down once before he pulled back again.

"I-I was a good girl," she whispered, cheeks and chest flushed beautifully.

Edward c****d his head, tilting his ear towards her. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."

Marceline swallowed thickly. "I was a good girl, sir," her voice shook at a regular volume and he chuckled. She gasped when he buried his tongue inside of her again and her head hit the bed with a soft pat. "O-Oh!" She cooed and rolled her hips up, jumping when he braced his hands against them.

Edward groaned when her thighs rubbed against the sides of his head, his eyes closing as he ran his tongue flat up and over her clit, making her jerk and cry out. He teased a finger against her wet heat, inhaling her smell in an animal-like way and not ashamed about it one bit. She smelt divine, it made his c**k twitch and he groaned into her, biting down roughly on her sensitive lips.

"Ah!" Marceline gasped and arched, trying to pull her self from his teeth but he only bit harder. "D-Edward please!"

His eyes rolled around, flickering up past her breasts and to her begging eyes that nearly set him off again. But he released her pretty little p***y from his bite and Marceline trembled, turning into a moaning heap as he lavished her with that excellent and efficient tongue of his.

He thrust a second finger into her, making Marceline groan and dig her fingers into his hair, pull him tighter against her, like he planned on going somewhere.

His fingers snapped against her walls in a scissoring motion, causing quick little jolts of discomfort but also pleasure. Marceline rolled her hips and moaned, panting and clenching his hair, the bed sheets, hair pulling taught when she tossed her head back; what a f*****g way to wake up. Her thighs were assaulted by his stubbled jaw but she didn't care and he didn't seem to care either when her thighs made a noose around his head.

"Edward!" She gasped and he felt her walls constricting around his fingers. "D-Edward! Oh f**k!" Her eyes fluttered closed and she trembled, fingers flexing through his hair.

Edward basically purred as he pulled his fingers from her limp little body, tongue striking up and down and around the pearly digits as he climbed up to her chest.

"Taste so God dammed good," he murmured and palmed her breast, receiving an airy moan; it was weak. "I've been waiting to get back in here," he reached down and roughly grabbed her s*x, which made her jumped and whine; she was too weak to open her eyes. "All damm day."

"Edward," f**k didn't he like hearing her as his name, especially in that husky drawl. "Edward please. . ."

"Please what," he murmured and stroked his fingers heady against her tender p***y. "Please f**k you? You want me to f**k you, baby girl?"

She trembled and nodded feverishly. "Please," she opened her eyes the best she could, staring up at him, begging. "Please Edward!"

He chuckled and pulled his hand from her, which made Marceline whine but it caught in her throat when he eased the head of his d**k against her. His stubble burned as he raked it up her throat and jaw, which contrasted greatly against the overwhelming ache as he trusted into her. Her fingers reached for his shoulders as his pelvis settled against hers, a soft moan coming from her lips as he pulled out to the end and then sunk deep into her again.

A hand at her hip felt tender as he set his rhythm, her thighs wrapping around his hips and keeping him as close as possible. Marceline moaned and rocked up to meet him when she could, perfectly content to just lay there and moan, groan and tighten her p***y around him because it made him actually moan and f**k if she wasn't gonna enjoy that while it lasted.

Her brow furrowed slightly, barely registering him pulling her hand from his shoulder bur definitely realizing it through the pleasure of his snapping hips. Her eyes fluttered open to slits and she craned her head to the right, staring at their intertwined hands that he pressed into the shaking mattress.

Why was this so strange to her?

Maybe because alongside the manhandling and rough f*****g, he would hold her hand and it did something to her.

Then his c**k bruised her g-spot and that did something else to her.

Marceline gasped and arched her chest up at the sudden sting of pleasure, jerking again and tightening her hand in his when he did it again. Edward bowed over her and flicked his tongue over one of her n*****s, rolling his head on his shoulders and she felt his hips giving an unsteady jerk. One more elegant drag of his c**k over that spot had her eyes rolling back in o****m, the feeling making her coo like a dove. His c**k drug over the spot repeatedly, giving her o****m a quick jolt into another and then another until his thrusts became slow, uncoordinated and she could feel him cumming inside of her.

The room slowly quieted until it was only his soft pants and the wet sound of him peeling his skin from hers.

Marceline opened her eyes weakly, staring at him as he stood above her, fingers flexing at his sides and the half lidded eyes.

She was going to fall in love with this man and she knew it.

"Hows that ass doin, baby girl," by far the strangest thing she had ever been asked.

Marceline blinked a couple of times, watching him walk to the nightstand. "Um. . ." She pulled herself up weakly, arms trembling before she collapsed back into the pillow she had claimed. "It. . .it still hurts," she murmured and wiggled her hips to be sure where the ache settled; yep, still hurt.

He sighed and shrugged, roughly rolling her off to the other side of the bed; she took the pillow with her but she he just grabbed the other. "Need to learn some self control," he sighed and the bed trembled with his sudden weight. "Ah well, you'll just have to deal with the pain if it isn't better by tomorrow - I love me a little grab ass and I was being nice not smacking it while you were asleep."

How chivalrous. . .

"Now get some sleep," he yawned like she imagined a bear would and ensnared her hips with his arm, pulling her tight against him; post-c****s cuddles? He was gonna give her whiplash. "Got plans for you tomorrow. . ."

Marceline trembled and relished the warmth and stickiness of his chest, unable to even question what the plans were. She was too scared to ask after the incident that morning from him after she asked for clothes. He couldn't be all the way there, or maybe this was just the way he acted; the angel certainly seemed to put it that way but. . .

Marceline was still undecided on whether she made the best decision or not.