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childofyuggoth · 9 days ago

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≪─ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍʏ ʟʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Beckett/f! hunter !reader

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - E, POV second person, vampire vs human, threatening, gun play, humiliation, choking, noncon that turns into dubcon, facefucking, PiV, tough sex, facial

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Professor Johansen has been safely removed from his hotel by your fellow hunter, but you and your partner still got assigned with a stakeout. Despite that, your partner is bored and eventually leaves you to do your duty alone. But you're not alone for long.

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9,110 | AO3

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Winner of the last (well, sort of) poll and I decided to go with this plot. It may be not everyone's cup of tea but it sure is mine lol. Anyway, y'all remember how Beckett says he dangled two hunters from the roof to get information on Johansen? Yes, that's the inspiration behind this one shot. Just y'know, with a twist lol. Anyway, enjoy♡

After your colleagues took Dr. Ingvar Johansen away from his room at the motel, you suspected that some bloodsuckers might appear to look for him. This Ankaran Sarcophagus business got entirety of the region chasing ghosts. You don’t believe that it holds some sort of vampiric ancient, but who knows without opening it first. And that’s why the Inquisition decided to take the matter into their own hands. Sarcophagus hasn’t been located yet, but your fellow hunters have been able to easily track down the professor and obtain his peaceful cooperation with only minimal coercion. Still, that’s why you and Johnathan are now stuck on a roof, sniper rifles in hand.

While you do expect some vampires to appear sooner or later, it’s been some time by now and you’re becoming genuinely bored. Johnathan is smoking and leaning against the entrance door to the roof while you lay on your stomach, eyeing the windows to the motel room Johansen occupied just a handful of hours ago, waiting for anyone to appear. Room service has been told not to interrupt, their protests placated by a fistful of bills and so you’re staking out the motel from the top of a nearest building, which seems to be some sort of an office now empty due to late hours.

“Nobody’s comin’.” Johnathan exhales the smoke and you can tell this by the sound he breathes out.

“We’ve only been here for like three hours. Pipe down and do your job.” You retort and the man snorts, then you hear a sound of heel crushing sizzling embers.

“One of us is enough, sugar tits.”

You roll your eyes. It’s always like this with him and why you get paired with Johnathan is an eternal mystery to you. Sure, you two have an impeccable record of missions and hunts finished, but his attitude towards you is getting worse each time you work together. Not in a brawly, kicking each other’s asses way, but Mister I-Would-Rather-Sit-In-A-Bar has been getting into his head lately that you are going to fuck him if he appropriates you just enough times.

“Don’t be an idiot and stop thinking with your dick for once.” Annoyed, you turn away from the scope and glance at him over your shoulder. In the dim light of streetlights from below and nothing else, you can still see Johnathan staring at your ass with undisguised lust. Disgusting.

“Don’t be so harsh on me, sweetheart.” He chuckles stepping closer and in response you turn around, sit up and then stand, leaving your rifle perched on the roof’s skirting.

“I’m not harsh on you, dumbass, I’m being careful. I shouldn’t have to remind you not to underestimate these fuckers. And they will come, you know this. This professor is their only lead.”

“You don’t know that.” Johnathan responds and rises an eyebrow, which turns his expression to a lousy display of a smolder. He does this after stopping right before you and getting into your personal space, at which you frown. “And besides, you’re safe up here and have your gun, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s like shooting chickens in a coop.” He laughs and admittedly, the sound is appealing. Johnathan has a low, rich voice and that’s why he never has issues bedding a new woman every night. Part of the reason, maybe the biggest part, why he thinks that you will fold for him as well.

“So you want me to do what? Issue a permission slip for you to fuck off and rot in some bar while I’m here?!” Against your wishes your voice rises a fraction and Johnathan lifts his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey there, pussycat, all I’m saying that both of us here is an overkill. You can handle it, can’t you?”

“It’s not about if I can handle it or not, you idiot!” Gesturing with your gloved hand you draw Johnathan’s attention to the cross dangling from his neck. “Does this mean nothing to you? Our Holy fucking mission, remember?”

“Chill out! Jesus!” Johnathan scoffs and rolls his eyes, very dramatically too, to emphasize just what of a hardass he thinks you’re being right now. “If you want us both to rot here until the leeches appear, fine, but don’t act like rubbing my ass on concrete with nothing better to do is some sort of higher calling.” Finally his blue eyes fixate on you and your upper lip curls with distain. “I joined the Inquisition to hunt down monsters, not to babysit an empty room in case one of them appears.” He pauses, then with a scoff adds. “I was in a fucking Navy, darling, this is a waste of my time and skills.”

Oh how much you wish to rip his head off. Yet you contain your anger, the only visible sign of it being your balled fists, clenching tightly by your sides. “These have been our direct orders from the Bishop, Johnathan.” With painful patience you remind him of this, together with slow words like you’re talking to a fussy toddler.

“I know, but he’s not here, is he?” Rummaging in his pocket, Johnathan takes out another cigarette and lights it, the flame illuminating his sharp features and multiple scars littering his skin. Shaggy black hair, always cut short, appears near red because of the brief flicker of fire. And then his face is submerged in the shadows again.

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. You are tempted to just let him go, he’s of no use if he’s just going to be smoking and complaining the entire time. Still, you want to follow orders and those have been pretty clear – stake out the hotel, kill any sucker that might come looking for Johansen. It’s not hard even if it’s boring.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s here on not.” You reply in a way Johnathan fully expects you to and he just sighs, sensing a lecture incoming. This man is in his mid-forties but acts like a fresh cadet. Somehow this irritates you even more. He’s a good hunter, but his attitude… “Listen, I get it, it’s boring, but we have to do this.” You gesture to the motel room just across the narrow passageway separating this building and that one, and his eyes follow your arm, then turn back to you.

“Who’s going to know if it’s both of us here or just one?” You open your mouth to argue but Johnathan hurries to speak before you do. “And since you’re so inclined to perform duty best to your ability, I’m sure you can handle it.” He inhales the smoke while watching your mouth close and your brow furrow even harsher. “Fuck, if you handle it well you can say I went for a piss or something and get a promotion. No more rubbing elbows with my splendor. Unless you want to rub something else.” Now he smirks and you groan, rolling your eyes again.

“You know what, fine. Just piss off and get out of my fucking sight because I very much would rather do this alone than listen to your cheesy pickup lines.”

Johnathan flicks partially smoked cigarette from the edge of the roof and scoffs. “They are not pickup lines. I’m just being friendly.”

“Oh yes, friendly, until you’re balls deep in my throat, calling me your good little hunter.” You stare him right in the eyes as you say this and the man chokes a little, shocked by your words. He doesn’t know that some months ago when you two have been stationed near the national forest and camped there, Johnathan spoke in his sleep. And you only know it was about you because the bastard said your goddamn name right after.

“I wouldn’t-“

“Yes, you fucking would. Don’t even dare lying to me.” You sigh and close your eyes briefly, composing yourself once more. “Just go, sit in some shitty bar and I will text you if I see anything, alright?”

When you open your eyes again, you see Johnathan setting his sniper rifle next to yours and for just a moment you think that he will lay prone and take his aim, as he should. But no, instead of doing what he should, he does what he wants to. Typical.

With a click of his tongue and a wink meant for you, he salutes you with two fingers and walks towards the door of the roof access. “See you later, babydoll.”

You almost growl in frustration but swallow your annoyance and wait until the door closes before you exhale really slowly, calming yourself, and rub the bridge of your nose. He’s so beyond irritating. You should speak to the Bishop or maybe Father Patrick who’s your direct superior, about never getting assigned with Johnathan again. You don’t know if a stray bullet from your gun won’t find the back of his head some day. On accident, of course.

But left alone, you finally relax and roll your shoulders, dispersing the tension from your muscles. First you glance at the motel room, which you see clearly through the window across the alleyway, then to the rifles on the ground. Might as well do your job now that you don’t have that annoying mosquito buzzing in your ear.

Laying down on the roof you support yourself by elbows and take control of your rifle again, peering through the scope. Your colleagues didn’t leave Johansen’s room in a mess. If anything, it looks like he just went out for a dinner or maybe to some late party these types of researchers attend – full of sophisticated wine and endless talks about latest archeological findings.

Still, no matter what Johnathan said, that this should be easy, you have a strange feeling about this whole situation. Johansen has been in LA for a while now and yet still no leeches appeared. You can’t help but wonder why. Last you heard, or rather what has been told to you, is that the accursed ones have been kicking quite a fuss about this sarcophagus. So why not attempt to get their hands on the professor sooner? You just thank God that the Inquisition got to him first before they did.

You blink and suddenly something feels off. Nothing has changed in the room and your night vision scope doesn’t show anyone or anything presently there, but there’s something. Like a feeling, uneasiness, a pressure at the back of your head. Moving your shoulders and adjusting your rifle, you look at the outlines in the room, all lit up with a green hue, but nothing moves and nothing appears to have been moved in any way either.

Confusion furrows your brow and you pull back from the scope to look around, glancing to the balcony of the room and those on each side of the target one, then above and below. Lastly you glance at the roof and downwards, into the alley, but there’s not a living soul there. Or unliving one for that matter.

“Hm.”

“Hi there. I suggest you don’t move a finger.” A male voice comes from behind you and you freeze for a moment, but not feeling a barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head or a knife to your back, you move your head slowly to look over your shoulder.

At first you don’t see anything and then a dark shadow begins to gain shape. Not because whoever spoke suddenly materialized, but because they are approaching you closer, footsteps slow and confident. You can tell that even with the distance. And then you notice the eyes. Two crimson embers burning in a face that you can’t make out quite yet.

Seeing how far away the figure is, you swing the rifle that’s still in your hands, trying to aim before he moves, but you’re too slow, far too slow. You don’t even need to blink for the monster to disappear from sight, only to appear by your feet. It’s a man alright. He’s crouching so you can’t assess how tall, but he has longish dark hair and is wearing a dark coat, color undiscernible on the shadowy rooftop.

“That’s very rude of you, I merely said hello.” He smirks, scarlet eyes glowing in the dark ominously and he grabs your ankle, pulling you with him as he stands fast and you scramble, dropping your rifle in your effort to find anything at all to grab onto.

Your world turns upside down and you let out a sound of frustration, trying to understand what’s happening to you. But your clawing at the rooftop soon stops as you are carried over the edge and dangled there like an overripe fruit at the store. You gasp despite yourself and look around, realizing that if he drops you – that’s it, it’s over. A vampire would survive a fall like that, but not you, a mere human.

A moment passes as you gasp for air, looking at the concrete of the alleyway below and you hear a chuckle that makes your eyes snap to the man. “Not asking me to let go of you?” You grit your teeth at this, feeling how your blood is beginning to flow to your neck and head.

“If you want to kill me then do so instead of toying with me.” You snarl at him but you sound less intimidating than you have hoped. However, you’re aware that you only need to distract him enough to reach into your pocket and press one button on your cellphone. One that will connect you to Johnathan. And even if the vampire drops you before he arrives, that’s still okay, as long as the monster gets destroyed. You know what you were signing up for when you joined the Inquisition.

“Why this kind of accusation?” The man laughs and it’s not a grating sound, rather pleasant actually. He’s clearly relaxed and strangely in a good mood if his smile is an indication of that whatsoever. “No, I do not want to kill you, I just want information and I’m sure you have it.”

“I’m not going to tell you a damned thing, leech!” Snarling at him with all the fury you can muster past your horror of being possibly dropped, you dangle there, not moving. Your phone is in your back pocket but if you reach for it too obviously then he might kill you despite what he’s saying.

“Really? That’s so unneighborly.” The man sighs and shakes his head slightly then looks at the second rifle still neatly placed where Johnathan left it. Yours got discarded towards the rooftop door in your struggle to escape the grip on your ankle that is now most likely bruising you even beneath the leather boot you’re wearing.

“Fuck you.”

“How sophisticated. But I would rather prefer to hear where Dr Johansen was taken.” And as if you’re just a doll in his hand, the man gives you a little shake. With terror you realize that the cellphone in your back pocket has slipped halfway out of it and you swallow, albeit with difficulty because of your current position.

“Why do you need him?” You glower at the man, or as much as you can do that while trying to observe his face and emotions. He doesn’t look enraged or annoyed, just mildly bored with the whole situation and ever so slightly amused by your defiance. But as long as he keeps talking, and he will because he admitted needing information from you, he won’t drop you down, letting you die.

“I don’t need him, witch hunter.” With a partially exhausted sigh, the vampire glances somewhere behind you and you only assume it’s towards the room that the archeologist occupied just mere hours ago. “I’m curious about this Sarcophagus, that is all. And no.“ He cuts you off when he hears you inhale in preparation to speak. “It’s not some sort of kindred artefact. It’s a simple sarcophagus even if many of my kin refuse to believe that. I would very much like to prove them wrong. And that’s why I need dear, dear Ingvar to tell me more about it.”

Strangely, you find yourself believing his words. But then your training and lessons that have been hammered into you return and you frown deeply. He’s lying, you are sure he is. “Even if I tell you where he is you will never reach him.”

“How about you just tell me what I want to know and I will figure the rest out for myself, hm?” The vampire tilts his head slightly, like he’s having half a thought to meet your eyes properly but giving up early on.

You consider your chances. So far he hasn’t been aggressive in a way most leeches are and just telling him where Johansen is won’t bring any real harm. Most importantly, you can hide the truth and die, or you can tell the location and, hoping you’re not wrong here, if left alive reach out to the monastery and warn them about anything possibly happening. You may be flogged for spilling the beans, so to speak, but you’ll live. And one thing you share with Johnathan is that neither of you want to die for no reason. This situation seems like a reasonless way to die.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But I won’t tell a damned fucking thing if you keep me dangling here. I don’t trust you.” You narrow your eyes and the vampire chuckles.

“I wouldn’t trust myself either.” He agrees to your surprise and to even bigger shock, he actually steps back, bringing you back over the roof’s edge.

In a matter of moments you can reach down and touch the rough bitumen, and you’re hoping to be dropped gently, but that’s not what happens. Instead of letting you just fall where you are hanging, the vampire scoffs at your pawing on the ground and discards you like a toy doll that lost his interest. With a huff and your teeth nearly clamping over your tongue at the impact of your chest on the bitumen, you skid only slightly, your bulletproof west taking all of the damage. Your tactical kneepads absorb even more of it, scuffing loudly, and thankfully your gloves save your palms from being scraped to blood, but one thing that also falls with you is the cellphone.

You watch it slide past you, rattling loudly on the rough surface and you take a moment to scramble after it, reaching for it despite your world spinning around you in nauseating circles. You hear footsteps. No, no, no, he can’t, you must reach it in time. But as your vision begins to settle and the vertigo starts to fade, you watch a brown, sturdy boot come heel first upon the gadget and crash it, spraying pieces of plastic. You squint instinctively and two pieces hit your face without causing any harm.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The vampire sighs and when you rise your eyes to him you see a partial grin, emphasized so sharply in its cruelness by an inhuman fang shown fully on display. For your viewing pleasure, you are sure. “I need that information, didn’t I tell you so?” He turns, stepping to you and you begin to rise, first on your elbows, then palms, then your knees, thinking, maybe naively so, that you have a fighting chance.

That is until the vampire picks up your very own sniper rifle, laying just a step sideways from his path. You rise your hands just like Johnathan did before with you. Except unlike Johnathan you’re not pretending but actually try to placate the monster from acting rashly.

“Hey now.” You start, watching him inspect the gun with a brief glance, his red eyes ghosting over the details with educated comprehension and then he approaches you, holding it in one hand. “We’re only talking, right?”

“Are we? You tried to call for help, but your buddy is much too occupied at the bar by the corner. Even if you did call him he would not come to your aid in time.” With a smile, the vampire rises the heavy firearm in his hand and points it at where you kneel. “I suggest you start cooperating and tell me what I want to know.” The grin on his face widens.

“What-“ You swallow, nearly choking on your own saliva but you need to stall for time. Maybe you can talk him out of finding Johansen. “What is your name.”

“So that you put me on your little hit list? I don’t think so.” He laughs and you respond with a strained half-smile.

“You know who I am. If not by name then at least what I do.”

“Only partially. I know you’re with the Inquisition. Such a boring group of biblethumpers.” He pauses now, considering you. “However, you seem to be livelier than most. So I will indulge you. My name is Beckett.” Nodding with a strange grace he offers a partial bow and you nod in return, not sure what to think of him. His name, Beckett, doesn’t ring a bell at all.

“Right.” You swallow, not willing to tell him your name and glance to the side, wondering how far Johnathan’s gun is, but immediately as you do that you hear a click of safety being ticked off.

Your eyes immediately flick back to Beckett and he sighs, emphasizing his displeasure with your lack of cooperation. “I do hope you will honor our agreement. You tell me what I want to hear and I do not kill you. Sounds reasonable, don’t you think?”

But now that you’re not being swung over the open air from the rooftop, your willingness to tell him what he wants to hear is fading and fast. You narrow your eyes at him and briefly lick your lips before you speak next. “Shove it, leech. I’m not telling you anything because I know you will go there and slaughter everyone. I can’t let innocents die. Too many already do by the hands of your kind.” With rising anger you spit at his feet to show him just how much you hate the bloodsuckers and Beckett’s grin fades. His eyes, forever glowing red, fixate on you with a cruel coldness that makes your back muscles stiffen with tension.

“Open your mouth.”

You just glare at him and that is enough to make Beckett step closer until the muzzle is right against your cheek, its edge digging into your skin. Yet you don’t move an inch. “I said open your mouth before I blow your brains out.” The vampire repeats, his tone carrying a new current of irritation and you clench your jaw tightly at first, then slowly part your lips.

When Beckett thinks you have opened your maw sufficiently enough, he slides the barrel of the gun right inside and deep enough that you involuntarily gag upon it. Graciously, he pulls it backwards just a fraction and you watch him observe your face with a degree of satisfaction. “There, wasn’t that hard, was it?” He mocks and if your glower could kill, Beckett would be dead instantaneously.

“See, the problem with you religious types is that you just don’t want to work together.” Starting in a casual, yet slightly amused tone the vampire watches you swallow around the gun barrel, your throat working with strain. Saliva begins to pool around your tongue upon which cold metal rests and you attempt to swallow again before he resumes. “I do not wish harm upon you. But I will defend my right to this existence. And you see, it is a right. I didn’t ask to be made this way, just like neither of us asked to be born. Why my existence is seen as more damaging than that of a prey animal?”

Because animals don’t have higher intelligence nor immortality you sick fuck, you think without being able to respond but then with a startle you feel embarrassment when your saliva begins dripping past your bottom lip. Beckett rises an eyebrow and smiles slightly. “Higher intelligence doesn’t always separate us from beasts, obviously.” He mocks as if reading your mind and you flush with fury because that’s the only thing you can do.

Fascinated by the rage in your eyes and your angry expression, Beckett begins moving the gun, sliding the bulbous tip of it over your tongue and you want to turn away. You could turn away, but is a little bit of shame and embarrassment worth more than your life? You could die here or survive and kill many leeches like him. Maybe even him. You know you won’t forget this face, not after this.

“That’s a good girl, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Beckett mocks once more and you focus on him with a humiliated blush coloring your face.

Despite your frowning and your angry stare at him, you do feel degraded in a way that you haven’t felt before. Not because of the gun in your mouth moving like he’s sliding a cock in and out, and not because you’re forced to kneel and obey the monster, but because you let this happen. You weren’t cautious enough, sharp enough, attentive enough and now you’re paying a price that is maybe not as ultimate as death itself, but sure damn close.

What doesn’t escape your notice this time though is that Beckett has gotten distracted by what he’s doing, by what he’s putting you through. Red glow of his eyes, this close evidently having vertical pupils that fill you with both repulsion and a sense of dread, are focused only on the rifle’s muzzle, still violating your mouth with a steadily increasing pace. You just hope that the culmination of such act won’t result in a blast much more damaging than a simple orgasm would produce. Yet he is distracted and keeping your eyes on the monster, you move your hand.

Just one hand, the left, you begin inching towards your utility belt. There are many things attached there: a pouch with extra bullets, holy water, some other bits that you usually need on missions but most importantly – there’s a dagger on your left hip and a wooden stake on your right. Judging your right side to be more illuminated by the low light on the rooftop you try to get to your dagger and just hope that Beckett is focused enough on his atrocious actions rather than you.

“Ah, and what are you doing there?”

Damn it. Damn it all!

Stopping your movement, you pay attention to his face again and notice Beckett’s amused expression. He is not looking at your face, however, and instead tilts his head to the side to observe your fingers that have stopped inching, a stressful twitch noticeable only by him because of the shadows. Then he sees your goal and sighs. “How unimaginative. Give me that.” With free hand he motions for you to take the weapon and hand it to him, and with the barrel pressing to the back of your throat you exhale slowly and take the dagger, careful not to make any sudden movements.

When you hand the blade to Beckett he raises his eyebrows, either impressed or surprised. The dagger has a handle shaped like a cross, gilded with metal melted from an actual blessed cross but that doesn’t appear to bother him in the slightest. He spins the dagger in his fingers once, then moves his scrutinizing gaze back onto your form. “And that one too, dear. We can’t cut our fun short, after all.”

More mocking, more condescending yet arrogant smirks on his face and you want to swear, to yell at him, to leap and attack him with your hands even if it’s the last weapon you have, but knowing that survival is not for idiots, and you’re not an idiot, you reach to your right side and slip the wooden stake out of its sheath.

Before taking the offering from you, however begrudgingly you make it, Beckett slides your dagger under the belt of his pants and takes the stake, flipping it in his hand. “What a nuisance this thing could become.” He says as if he’s scolding a student from bringing a phone to class and with a bemused sigh he chucks it far. With a slight flinch you hear wood smack against the hotel wall and then fall five stories down. You don’t hear when it drops to the ground, but you can almost imagine. Well, that’s another weapon gone.

Now entirely defenseless, you watch Beckett turn his gaze back to you and smile. It would be an almost handsome smile if your life wasn’t on a line and he weren’t a goddamn leech that you were supposed to eliminate together with Johnathan. Goddamn it, Johnathan. If he stayed here with you, you wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. However, the reality is much more unpleasant and you slowly exhale, trying to figure out how can you negotiate your life out of this situation.

“Now, are you willing to talk or do you need more convincing?” He asks and lets the question hang in the air while you two stare at each other like mortal enemies. You, with your eyes full of hate, and him, with still partially amused smile on the lips, but with eyes much less curious now. They still glow the same sanguine hue, but your refusal to give Beckett what he wants has turned them into a sharp, annoyed kind of gaze. He’s losing his patience and that might not be a good sign.

Still, despite you neither confirming or denying your willingness to speak, the vampire slowly pulls out glistening from your saliva barrel from your mouth but keeps it trained on you. Still tasting metal on your tongue you lick your lips briefly and move your jaw before speaking again. “I thought-“ You cough briefly and then try again. “I thought I made myself clear. I’m not giving up an innocent man to someone like you.”

A dangerous flash appears momentarily in Beckett’s eyes, but his smile becomes wider and somehow sharper. Maybe it’s the fangs that he’s flashing you so unapologetically. “And I thought I made it clear that I do not intend to harm to Dr. Johansen. I just want to talk. We’re working towards the same goal, hunter.”

“Are we?” Your eyes narrow and you feel rage stirring in your chest once more. He’s lying, you just know he is. He’s lying like the rest of his kind. Not even one of them know a fraction of what honesty means, or understand what kind of a plague they are upon the world. “You really think I value my life more over protecting the innocents? You really think I would cooperate with a monster like you even if there weren’t lives at stake? You bloodsucking sin, you wretched fucking thing mimicking humanity, you disgrace of a-“

It happens fast, cutting your righteous tirade off. First Becket’s smile completely fades, disappearing in a blink of an eye, and a snarl replaces it, curling his upper lip unlike when a dog growls. Then he moves towards you, one step, nearly pushing the gun back against your face, but instead of waiting for that to happen, instead of submitting to his scare tactic, you drop on your ass and try to lean back. He makes another step and you begin scrambling backwards, keeping your eyes not on the barrel of the gun but on his trigger finger, barely visible with a sharp nail at the tip of it. For just a split second you wonder how many people those nails ripped open, but that thought disappears as quickly as it emerges in your mind when with a gasp you run into something, your back pressing tightly against it. You don’t dare to look, but you can guess that it’s one of the protruding pillar-like vents of the building, topped with a cute roof made out of sheet metal. You saw them when you came here and now your back is firmly against the bricks.

Swinging the muzzle away from your face, Beckett doesn’t hesitate. He sees where you are cornering yourself and it works perfectly for him. So he approaches and leans down, grabbing your jaw with his free hand and leaning to your face with a snarl. “You’re making this very difficult for yourself.” He whispers, words clipped by his irritation for now mainly kept at bay. “Tell me where he is!”

“No.” You respond and feel his nails dig into your skin, maybe even breaking it. That’s not what you’re focusing on right now, but on his eyes, a boiling sea of red that now looks down at you with fury of a beast. He squeezes harder and you wince, the pain hard to ignore, but you just glare back at him, still defiant. You tell yourself that you wanted to cooperate, that you had a plan and it wasn’t half bad, but he’s humiliating you and your pride is rearing its head like a sin that you cannot be absolved of. Sin that might take your life, you are perfectly aware of this.

“I could kill you. I should kill you and get to your dear companion, maybe he would speak. I should-“ Then Beckett stops and his eyes sweep over your face, over your cheeks that he’s gripping and slightly puckered lips from how hard he’s squishing your face. You won’t talk, he finally understands. Not yet. “Have it your way then.” With a sudden smirk, the vampire rudely releases your face, pushing you away as if you disgust him.

While still holding your sniper rifle, Beckett straightens his back and with a slightly raised eyebrow he begins unbuckling his pants. At first you don’t want to look, but the jingle of a belt buckle and then the zipper being drawn demands your attention and so you glance down, watching the waist of his undone pants slip down his hip ever so slightly, sagging with the weight of your dagger still tucked in the belt.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you even think that…” You trail off when without any shame or reservation Beckett digs into his underwear and produces his cock, already hard, with the vein on the side of it throbbing twice as blood gets moved through the vampire’s body to serve another purpose besides nourishing him. “…I will not…”

“You will.” He says without even bothering to wait until you attempt to finish whatever proclamation of duty you have and moves closer, his feet pressing tightly on either side of your thighs. “Open up, hunter.”

With one glance upwards you can see a malicious glee in the monster’s eye, then his shaft is tapped against the side of your face and you look at it, protruding proudly right before your eyes. You gulp down and clench your jaw, not wanting to give him what he wants – easy obedience. It’s thick, it’s demanding, jutting out of a crown of dark hair that is clearly visible through the open fly.

While you get momentarily distracted Beckett scoffs slightly to himself and stoops just enough to jam his knees into your shoulders, effectively pinning you to the brick pillar, then his free hand finds your throat and grips, tightly. So tightly that caught by surprise you part your lips in an attempt to inhale the air that he’s been cut off for you. That’s all he is waiting for and with a satisfied clipped sound, the vampire moves his hips just enough to force the tip of his cock past your parted lips.

He watches your eyes widen with surprise as your tongue gets pushed down by the oddly warm underside of his length. After all, you know leeches to be cold, so why is he so warm? Why the vein that rubs against the flat of your tongue feels so hot, like it has real human life in it? You don’t know, all you can think off is the taste of him, of Beckett. Slightly salty, something earthy, and beneath all that a tinge of decay that somehow, surprisingly, you don’t find unpleasant.

Blushing in your shock, you feel Beckett release your throat and you inhale through your nose right before he grips your hair at the top of your head, clenching it into his fist, then forcing more of his cock into your mouth. Your heels kick at the bitumen and your palms instinctively rise to his thighs, trying to push the monster away, but instead he just pushes in deeper. Your throat contracts and gags but this time the grace with which he treated you earlier is gone. Instead of pulling back, Beckett forces his sizeable shaft deeper and deeper, until you gag on it again and then can’t do even that as your airways get cut off.

With a feral snarl which could be either from desire or anger, or maybe both, Beckett throws your rifle to the side and grips your skull with both palms, beginning to move his loins in sharp snaps. You try to make a sound but nothing comes out and you claw at his legs only helping him drop his pants to the knees. Your gloved fingers do no damage when you try to rake at his thighs, muscles too tense to be damaged like that and all throughout your struggle he keeps fucking your mouth.

Saliva drops down your chin and onto your chest at the forceful invasion and your eyes water, spilling down your face without your say in it. You try to pull back, to struggle, to stop this, but he’s too strong and his cock is far too deep in your throat for you to be able to turn away even an inch. He pulls back just enough to let you inhale and only a second later thrusts deeply once again, using your mouth like you’re just some toy to him. And maybe you are, you realize with a sobering thought while trying to keep your consciousness with you despite feeling increasingly dizzy the longer you can’t inhale, maybe you are just a toy to him. Humans like yourself are usually just discardable pawns to monsters like him.

Yet there’s something more to his rage than just pure lust with which he’s assaulting your face, bruising the back of your throat, shoving your nose deep into the thicket of his hair every time he thrusts deep until his balls slam to the underside of your chin. What that something is you don’t know, or maybe you don’t want to know. And you don’t get to ponder upon it any longer because Beckett suddenly pulls out, leaving you gasping and with thick saliva strands trailing from your mouth to his cock. He smirks and leans down just enough to sink his claws into the strap of your bulletproof west and rip it as you gasp at the sound and brutality of it. He throws it to the side and then your shirt is next, torn open by the vampire’s sharp nails that scrape over one breast before he pulls it out of a bra cup and squishes it.

You wince at the pain, still trying to catch your breath and you swallow with a whine, your throat feeling more than just sore but straight up raw. “I suggest you speak soon, before I have even more fun with you.” Beckett snarls and you glance up at him, but his own animal-like eyes are focused on his fingers, on his hairy hand that is kneading your breast without mercy. If you survive this, you are hundred percent sure that you will have bruises.

“That’s your plan, to fuck me into talking?” You try to scoff but your voice comes out rough and painful.

“I can assure you that this method has worked on stronger enemies than you.”

“You fucking asshole!” In your rage you don’t think of what you could do. Like biting him, gripping his balls and squishing them. Anything like that escapes your mind when your pride of being called a lesser enemy gets hurt.

Instead you try to push at him by the thighs where your palms are still gripping onto and you succeed, if only briefly. But that small window of opportunity is enough to make Beckett stagger backwards ever so slightly and give you a gap to move.

Kicking at the ground you turn, dropping onto your palms, and begin quickly crawling away, trying to get to your rifle that is laying askew after Beckett discarded it. You reach for it and it appears so close with its black metal shining dully in the minimal light, now mainly provided by the partially cloudy moon. The strap of your rifle is just two inches away, then you move forward. An inch away. So close, you’re almost there…

But then your ankle is grabbed and you’re pulled back, your gloves uselessly scraping onto the ground as you wince because your naked breast painfully drag over the bitumen.

“If that’s the game you choose, I’ll play it.” Beckett’s voice behind you is no longer lighthearted in its dark amusement, but fully dangerous. Ominous undercurrents in his tone no longer give you an illusion of being able to overpower him or escape.

You woke anger of a monster and you will pay the price.

Gasping and with your heart pounding in your chest, you still try to drag your body away but it’s entirely useless and you only manage to rip fingertips of your gloves open, damaging your skin and bloodying yourself in the process. And then you freeze when you first hear, then feel a sharp tip of your own dagger pierce the fabric of your pants. You know it’s like a razor because you yourself sharpen it every single day. So when it slices through the jeans you’re wearing it barely makes a sound.

It happens so fast that you don’t even have a chance to think of what to do next. Moving on instinct you glance over your shoulder only to witness Beckett slice the seat of your pants open, then do the same with your panties. With eyes wide and your breaths so fast they threaten to choke you if you don’t try to calm down, you watch the vampire smirk the more of your ass he exposes. Like a hungry animal he licks his lips briefly and with the dagger still in his left hand, Beckett easily crawls on top of you, his cock swinging with motion and wetly rubbing against your rear where it presses before he settles.

“No, no, no, don’t you dare, don’t!” You murmur and the words tumble out of your mouth so fast even you can’t truly comprehend them, but Beckett only glances at you, his form now covering yours fully and then some.

You shake your head in disbelief, like it’s hard for you to understand what’s going on despite knowing full well what his intentions are, and you still try to escape. One knee up as you attempt another desperate crawl, but the motion only rips your pants open further, this time the sound loud and recognizable, and you gasp. But before even more sounds escape your mouth, Beckett is faster. He quickly drops onto his right elbow, moving his body to the side of you for better grip before his palm swiftly covers your mouth, striking like a snake from an angle that you weren’t careful enough to pay attention to.

With a squeal against his hand you keep staring over your left shoulder, seeing your very own dagger being used to cut open the fabric covering your left thigh and you flinch when you feel Beckett’s cock press against your pussy. With your leg hiked up like this, with you in a frozen motion of escape, you have exposed yourself to him perfectly. And you hear him let out a menacing chuckle right beside your right ear as he inhales the scent of your hair. “Hold on tight, hunter.”

You make a noise of protest, your face blushing with almost an innocent shade of red and you try to struggle but before you can make an effort of any significance, Beckett thrusts his cock into you, making you cry out into his palm. With a sigh, he can’t help but appreciate how tight you feel, how you stretch to accommodate him. Unable and unwilling to take it slow, the vampire begins thrusting.

Each such thrust is marked by your pathetic mewls, but soon your body responds and while your fingers try to grip over the ground, you can’t help but feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s so deep, too deep. It’s deliciously painful and you weren’t ready, but oh God, how does it make you feel. Every time he fucks into you, you hear Beckett let out a restrained grunt against the side of your head and you echo it with a moan, muffled by his palm. And the longer he goes the louder you become.

“You’re too damn loud!” Beckett hisses this time straight in your ear and grunts when startled you tense around him. “Fuck.”

Before you can understand what’s really going on, Beckett pulls out making you whimper despite yourself and he pushes you chest-first onto the ground. You hear momentary clatter, dizzily understanding that it’s your dagger that got tossed and then you wince when your shirt gets unceremoniously ripped off from you. With heavy and quick breaths you try to rise but get pushed down again and then another loud rip as fabric gets shredded.

“Stop, let me go, I will-“ Your promise to tell him isn’t heard when the vampire wraps a thick strip of your own shirt around your mouth and with impatient tugs ties it behind your head. Panting and now reduced to only inhaling through your nose, you try to rise again and move the improvised gag, but instead your wrist gets gripped and pulled backwards until your shoulder strains painfully at the angle.

You whine at the ache and try to blink away the dazed state you’re in, but you’re being handled with swift purpose that doesn’t give enough time to do anything. Trying to speak you only hear your own weak, muffled words that are utterly incomprehensible and then your eyes widen when your hip is pulled with monstrous ease until you’re kneeling, face still down onto the bitumen.

With a whimper you try looking back over your shoulder and cry out into the cloth over your mouth when Beckett thrusts back into you, this time much easier with your pussy as wet as it is. He bottoms out entirely and you stiffen at first then immediately relax and somewhere, very far from your mind, you curse at yourself for complying. But how can you not to. How he takes you, roughly and unapologetically, how he controls your body as if you’re a mere doll. You can’t help but want more, want the pleasure and the pain, and the disgusting realization that you’re being fucked by one of those you hunt.

Your arm is held like a reign by which Beckett is trying to control an insubordinate animal and with other hand you still try to reach for the rifle, but even now it’s futile. It’s too far away, taunting like a promise of control that you won’t get back until he’s done with you. And before another thought enters your mind the vampire begins to move.

This time, with his knees on the ground, your wrist in his fingers and other hand on your hip, Beckett can fuck you much harder and he proceeds to do just so. Sharp snaps against you, skin against skin, are much louder than your cries of pleasure or his satisfied yet somewhat feral groans every time he bottoms out completely, filling you with entirety of his cock that makes you somewhat sore but more than that it makes you want more.

And he gives you more. His thrusts deep, unrelenting, hard and punishing. You hear Beckett almost growl with strain as he fucks you with everything he has and you feel like your spine, bent uncomfortably in this position, is at a risk of snapping. Yet even that doesn’t ring any alarms to you. Instead you sink deeper and deeper into the pleasure that this rough usage of your body is giving you. More, you need more and you shiver when somehow Beckett delivers a particularly hard thrust. Despite him holding onto you, you still slip over the ground and feel skin on your cheek scrape open.

Immediately you smell blood and so does Beckett, yet that only urges him further. Casting a short glance to your face, seeing your heavy eyelids and eyes that show nothing but pleasure, he looks down again at where he’s pounding into your pussy. Your arousal dropping and smearing both of you, making the slams of his thighs and pelvis against your ass ring so much louder.

“Maybe I should Embrace you.” Beckett grunts through labored groans and you vaguely recognize the word, but concerns of your job are now the furthest thing from your mind. You moan and moan, not caring if anyone hears and what this means, the implications of being fucked like this by a leech like him.

Yet how he says it, words clipped because of the satisfaction that he is feeling is what pushes you over the brink. You weren’t even aware that you’re close so when your orgasm hits you - it’s a surprise. You cry out, loudly, despite the gag and your body shudders, spasming again and again as you go through waves of your climax that make you see white and think absolutely nothing. For a sweet, wonderful moment you forget your own name.

Beckett is not immune to your pussy gripping onto him like this but still the vampire doesn’t want to just come inside you. He needs to teach you a lesson and most importantly, he still needs you to talk. But he knows he can combine both and before he spills himself deep inside, Beckett pulls out and easily flips you onto your back. Your eyes are glazed and you’re still flinching with last echoes of your climax, but the vampire ignores it and rips off the gag from your face.

Needing only to make minor movement forwards, he watches you trying to understand what’s going on while you lift yourself on your elbows. Perfect. With a vicious grin, Beckett grips his slick cock and strokes it just a few more times, holding it tightly and aiming it. Then he comes, spilling his cum all over your face and your exposed chest. With a gasp you try to pull back but some of the cum lands on your mouth and you close your lips, swallowing with shock and shame beginning to encapsulate your mind once again. At least he avoided your eyes.

Panting with exhaustion Beckett smiles as he watches his seed drip down your face and chin while you stare at him with those big, shocked eyes. He wonders if anyone ever treated you like this before. He can bet that nobody did.

“Tell me where Johansen is.” He says with his voice gruff and tucks a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear. You absentmindedly lick your lips, tasting more of his cum while you just look at him for a moment longer.

“M-monastery.” You say with your voice coarse and Beckett’s eyes narrow with satisfaction at your answer. “It’s at the beach, Malibu.”

“Wonderful. Now, this wasn’t that hard, was it? I could say if you spoke earlier we could’ve avoided all of this, but… I don’t think I regret it, do you?” He caresses the side of your face where it’s not drenched by him spilling all over it just moments ago and you lick your lips again, both trying to clean them and to taste him again.

You don’t know what to say. You’re still dazed and out of breath and you’re sore in so many ways you can’t begin to count, but Beckett scoffs at your silence and pulls back, tucking his cock that’s already losing its erection after being spent. “I do not intend to harm the professor.” He assures you and you carefully sit up, then look around at the rooftop littered with your weapons and strips of your clothes.

“I don’t believe you.” You swallow and look at the vampire again, feeling his cum beginning to cool quickly while it still drips in heavy drops onto your breasts.

“You don’t have to.” Beckett gives you a simplest of shrugs, as if you two just had a polite conversation and not… whatever this was.

With a scoff you pick up the piece of fabric that he used to silence your moans and begin wiping at your face. Briefly you remember Johnathan and pray to God that he doesn’t appear all of a sudden.

“Anyway, I should better depart.” He eyes you with satisfaction on his face, the kind that is obvious on a hunter who looks at the trophy mounted on his wall, and out of the pocket he takes out a pair of small sunglasses. When Beckett puts them on, you realize that they are meant to hide the supernatural glow of his eyes and you slightly chuckle.

“Better pray we don’t meet again.” You begin to stand, trying to appear strong and in control but your legs are weak and your knees are threatening to give out. Yet you straighten and look at him in defiance despite the fact that he just had used you for his pleasure. That you orgasmed was just a side product he didn’t plan for. Bastard.

But at your words the vampire laughs and rises his eyebrows slightly, clearly amused again. “I’ll pray we do meet again, hunter. You’re an awful lot of fun.” He chuckles and walks towards the edge of a rooftop, then without looking back he makes a motion of a relaxed wave over his shoulder and steps off the ledge. You don’t need to rush and confirm that he’s not dead, splattered onto the pavement below.

Then, before you move even a muscle, you hear something like an echo that sounds like it’s partially around you and partially in your head.

“Until next time.”

#vtm #vtmb #vampire the masqurade bloodlines #beckett #beckett x reader

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