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thekinslayed · 10 months ago

Text

Audience of One

summary | An odd inkling to watch ties you to a raven-haired man in a beat up old car.

pairing | martin (in the modern world) x reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! all p*rn no plot, slight bloodplay, martin's greasy and kind of a creep, mentions of violence and groping, slight exhibitionism, oral (f), unprotected sex, rimming, anal fingering, squirting

wordcount | 2.7k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

It was starting to get dark now. You’re not too sure how long you’d been standing there, but the numbing ache in your heels told you you’ve spent the better part of the day there. You haven’t moved an inch since you found the car and the raven-haired figure inside it.

You didn’t even know where you were exactly. Though you figured you must’ve walked a good distance from the rackety RV belonging to the nameless older man you followed home from the bar last night. That evening was pretty uneventful, as benumbed as your cold toes in your black platforms. Your stomach was grumbling loudly, the bag of chips you’d stolen from the guy’s pantry clearly insufficient for your gut to get you by, but still, you couldn’t move. Four guys had gone in and out of the silver car. A group of kids on bikes had pulled out their phones with their flashes on to record the messed up jumble inside the vehicle. A concerned citizen had stopped and stared, dog in tow and milk jug in hand. Though just like you, they only watched.

He’d met your eye occasionally, often when his opponent had his face pressed up against the glass. Somewhere in between the guy who had cut the bridge of his nose and the other who kept pulling his hair, he smiled at you. You smiled right back.

With the moon properly floating in the breezy dim of the night sky, a group of loud girls with their flashy jewelry had found the show. They all talked on top of each other, crouching down to get onto his eye level. He seemed to preen under their attention, breezily propping his chin onto his hand, as though he wasn’t pinning the guy’s ankle with the other.

But soon, they had lost interest too, and once more, the fighters had an audience of one.

By the sixth one, he had passed out. Choked by the seatbelt. The other guy was much bigger in him, looking more athletic in his tight shirt and shorts, but your stranger put up a good fight. You watched as his opponent left him lying there, and you waited. It must have been ten minutes, or an hour, but you waited. Soon, you spotted the shaking of his unkept black tresses, signalling his return to consciousness. It was all too normal for him it seemed, with the way he casually put his shoes back on, then his jacket, and he was out of the car.

Any semblance of a reaction from you came in a small jolt at the slam of the car door. The bloodied showman made his way towards your still-standing figure, shaking his head to mess his sweaty mane. He was limping a bit; probably from the little maneuver he did into the back seat with the third guy.

He didn’t say anything to you. You don’t say anything back. Merely two pairs of eyes staring at each other— quizzical, drained.

He tilted his head off to the side, somewhere in a vague direction to the cluster of houses with gray clapboards off in the distance.

You shrugged, then nodded. What the hell, sure.

There was an odd stinging in your heels with every step you took behind him, but you stayed quiet. Your eyes stayed glued to the back of his head, your mind thinking of the possibility of you beating him in a fight if you snuck up on him then. You’d hold up for a while, a kick in the nuts would definitely have you get a couple of hits in, you figured, but he’s got the moves. You’ve seen all of it.

His house was a dull gray, like the ones on either side of it. The stained walls told you it was once bright and new, perhaps when the smiling woman in the picture frames still lived there. His mum, maybe. There wasn’t a single soul around now, except for you and him. He led you to his room without so much a word, which was littered with all kinds of paints, posters, and clothes.

Something underneath a pair of plaid pajamas started to squirm and make its way to the tip of your boot, tongue darting out to lick the cracked leather. “Ew,” you grimaced, squinting your eyes to look at the crawler. You had no idea what it was, not with how dark it was in his room. “What the fuck is that?”

“That’s my funny little guy,” he muttered, scooping the slimy thing into his hand and depositing it into a glass aquarium with a coo. You stayed standing on the threshold, in your fake fur coat and your slip dress.

Your stranger immediately undid the buckles of his belt, dropping the light-washed jeans onto the floor. He seemed all too comfortable walking around in his boxers in front of a woman he’d just met. You realized he hadn’t told you his name yet; you muttered yours to him in the silence.

“Martin,” he grumbled, plopping onto the mattress. His face was still bloodied from all that waltzing he did in the car, and you figured you should probably offer to help him clean those up. You stayed quiet.

The vintage coat you’d paid thirty pounds for along with letting the owner get a feel up your skirt soon found its place among the mess on the ground. You unzipped your knee-high platforms, wriggling your toes free of their constraint before settling right next to him. He’d somehow procured a cigarette, swiftly lighting it to life and taking a puff. Your cold fingers brushed against his when he passed it to you, inhaling the stinging smoke into your lungs.

“What were you doing back there?” you spoke up after a hazy, nicotine-filled silence, turning to look at him. His shoulder was nicely warm against yours, and he had a smell to him. Not a nose-scrunching odor, but a funny mix of sweat and the smell of a wooden cupboard.

“Car-Jitsu,” he drawled out, stretching his long limbs past the span of the twin-sized mattress. Your tongue itched to voice your questions, there was much more you wanted to ask, but Martin didn’t seem to talk much. How did it work? Was there cash involved? Was there some sort of Facebook group they were all a part of? ‘Available from 1-6 pm tomorrow. Silver 2006 Lexus. 5 minutes each turn.’

You were taken out of your thoughts by a shining in your face and a buzzing. A remote-controlled helicopter hovered over your face, blazing its bright light into your eyes. Martin, toying with the controller in his hands, chuckled beside you, which made you smile. He directed it to circle over your head, lowering his voice in a mocking police tone that made you giggle. It descended down, and down, landing on the plane of your clothed stomach. The last of the propeller’s spinning tickled your belly, sending a buzz straight down to your legs. You had propped them onto the bed, and the hem of your already short skirt fell into a crumple on your hips, exposing your black thong. The man pressed to your side reached for his toy, flicking it off before returning his warm palm to your abdomen. He seemed to test the feel of the cheap satin beneath his hand with his every caress, sliding up and down your belly. You simply lay there, sighing when you felt his nose press against your cheek, breathing in the scent of your flesh.

His hand slithered underneath your dress, squeezing the supple skin of your waist before cupping your cunt. He was growing hard against your thigh, you could feel him start to twitch. Mindlessly, your hand crossed over to touch him over his boxers, making him grunt. A shudder sprinted down your spine when his tongue darted out to lick on the shell of your ear, blunt teeth nibbling on your lobe. His mouth traveled south, mouthing over your stiff nipples before nudging your dress just underneath your tits to reveal your stomach. He nuzzled his wounded face over the soft span of flesh, painting you red with dried flecks and wet smears of blood. It made the hairs on your arms raise in attention, your cunt tingling when his fingers trespassed the waistband of your panties to feel the hairs on your mound.

“What you got under here?” he mumbled against your skin, breathy.

Giving into your urges, your hand settled over the back of his head, fingers running through the jet-black strands of hair. It was slightly slick with grease, as you expected, though surprisingly soft. The soft waves made him look so pretty, though they fell over his face way too much that it covered his icy blues.

Your hips lifted ever so slightly when his fingertips run a ghostly trail over your slit. “Wanna see?” you offered. Your thong soon joined the pile on the floor, and the air against your exposed cunt held a slight chill, though his breath warmed you up nicely. You watched as two fingers split your folds open, exposing your moistening pussy to his eye, and you wondered if he could see anything with the only light in the room being edges of the neighbor’s yard light from his window. He was studying you like a scientist in a lab, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he reached for the magnifying glass on the nightstand behind him. “Never seen a pussy before, have you, Martin?” you teased.

“Not as pretty as this one,” he answered, his voice far away as he prodded you in a trance. His tongue darted out to lick over your clit, making your hips jerk in surprise. Martin hummed, pleased with your reaction. He went back for another lick, dipping into your slit this time, then another, and soon, he had you clenching the dark sheets into fists as he licked and sucked all over you. There was no technique to it, nor a finesse, he was merely a starved man feasting on the sweet bounty you offered him. You kept your hand on his head, clamping him down as you grinded on his face.

Your mind wandered back to him in that car, how he smiled even while in a headlock and his feet dangled over the open window. He seemed to enjoy tumbling around, you figured that much. You wanted to see him smile again, you decided. With intent, you pushed on his shoulder, then the other, pulling him away from in between your thighs. He straightened to look at you in confusion, though the wicked smile on your face as you shoved his chest made his slim cheeks dimple in understanding. With your fourth shove, he caught your wrists, pinning them by your ears with his strong grip. You turned your head to bite his slim forearm, making him yelp. You tussled and grappled, with him grabbing your ankle and you pulling on his hair, until eventually you managed to switch your positions. With him on his back, you settled on his lap, slick folds nestled perfectly against his clothed cock. “I win,” you grinned, Martin mirroring your smile. You grabbed the hem of his gray tee, pulling it over his head before using it to wipe the blood from his nose. His left eye was a little swollen, appearing smaller than the other. Your black dress followed, baring yourself to him.

Your nipples stood erect in the chilly room. The faint amount of fluorescent light streaming into the gap in his curtains painted a harsh line across the shadows of your blood-streaked body. Nimble fingers reached into the waistband of his black boxers, pulling out his stiff length. You sunk into him with a sigh, rolling your hips with a practiced ease.

Martin was tantalized. You wondered how long it had been since he fucked a woman, though the way he watched you spear yourself on his cock over and over in awe made you figure it had been a while. It made your chest swell with pride. Taking his wounded hands, you settled them over your tits, urging him to squeeze them. “Like that?” you breathed out, earning a nod from him.

His cock was making you feel so good, evident from the blissed-out moans freely falling from your lips. Your hips moved with a mind of its own, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone. You steadied yourself with a hand on his sculpted chest, the dark spray of hair a pleasant tickle under your palm. With your view facing directly at the window, you caught the shadow of movement outside. Someone was watching you. You couldn’t see your audience’s face, with the bright porch lights behind him giving you a backlit view of their face.

Preening under the watchful eye of a stranger, your hands raised to run over your hair, throwing your head back as you rode Martin harder. Your face contorted to display your pleasure, which pleased the man below you as well. His rough palm grabbed your cheek, pulling you straight into his lips.

He tasted coppery with blood, yet slightly sweet from the blue razz lolly that painted his tongue a vivid color. His mouth dominated you like an opponent, consuming you with the hot, wet muscle reaching deep into your warm cavern. Muscled arms encircled your body, caging you against his chest as his hips soon began to rise to meet yours. Trapped, you couldn’t lift your head to see if your audience was still there, though the thought of the unknown figure vanished from your mind with Martin’s erratic thrusts. You could only bury your face into his neck as he took control.

You didn’t find anything within you to complain about the turn of events. The hairs on the back of your neck raised when you feel his hand lowering to cup your ass, a wandering finger finding your puckered hole. It made you gasp when you felt him circle your rim. With the overflowing slick pouring from your cunt gathered on his fingertip, he dipped into an experimental penetration into your ass.

“Mmh!” you squealed, biting down on the junction of his shoulder. Martin’s chest rumbled in a breathless chuckle. With your arms still caged in his grip, you could only squirm in his hold as he continued to fuck you with his cock and tease you with his finger. He whispered your name in a pleasured, raspy drawl. It spurned a tingle deep within your core, spurning you further into the abyss. You lifted your head to press your forehead against his. Lips close but not touching, breaths mingling and mixing. His tongue licked your bottom lip, before slithering its way into your mouth.

Your release crept up your spine like the spider Martin had crawling in an old jar. It brought about a tingle in the back of your head, and soon your cunt gushed all over his cock. You swore you had blacked out the moment he made you squirt, lost in a haze with dotted vision as he continued to pound into you. You could hear him curse in your ear, followed by praises and a slap on your ass for spraying all over his legs. With a harsh thrust that jolted you in the black-haired man’s hold, then another, you feel his cock twitch in your walls as he came into your womb. You were too far gone to muster up the energy to tell him you weren’t on birth control, nor did you have the money for a morning-after pill, limply plopping back onto the mattress when he rolled you off. The bed’s springs bounced when Martin got up, the absence of his warmth making way for a chill to settle over your naked body. You kept your eyes closed, basking in the pleasant buzz of the blissful aftermath and the exhaustion finally catching up to you.

You hardly registered Martin spreading your folds to look at the pearly white spend dripping from your cunt, humming with satisfaction. Two bright flashes of a camera shone against your closed eyelids, making you open them to look at the man looming over you. His warmth returned when he laid over you like a blanket, sculpted nose settling into your chest, humming a tune against your neck. A polaroid photo was held into your eyesight, and you took it from his grasp. Tilting it toward the soft stream of light from the window, you waited for the photo to clear. He had angled it to have your glistening cunt to be in view, a pearly droplet dripping into the curve of your ass, sharply contrasted by the streaks of red on your stomach, and some even on the inside of your thighs. It was the last thing you saw as your eyes grew heavy with fatigue, falling into slumber with your stranger’s humming in your ear, and the pleasant taste of coppery blood on your lips.

#bella writes ✍️#idk how to even tag this #ewan mitchell #martin x reader #fontaines d.c.#ewan mitchell x reader #ewanverse #in the modern world

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