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winedwords · 6 years

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Aleister | Wicked Games | Black

Title: Wicked Games

Pairing; Aleister Black/unnamed OFC

Words; 3985

Summary; Run darling, for I am hungry.

Warnings; Werewolves, magick, smut, slight dubcon, outdoor sex, alcohol, non graphic descriptions of death, murder, and dismemberment.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m sorry I’ve been gone. I’m trying to be better and get better, I’ve been struggling with anxiety, depression, and one hell of a writer’s block. Please accept this as my submission and tell Raini she’s pretty okay? Its still Halloween on the Best Coast.

Run. Run. Run.

Don't look behind you, don't think about the snapping twigs and the howls and yips and growls behind you.

Just run.

It was that mantra that kept me moving forward even if my lungs were starved for air and the muscles in my legs were screaming from the overexertion. I thought I could feel his breath at my neck and it spurned me forward, dodging and weaving through the trees. Every time I blinked, I saw his burning amber eyes and his growled words echoing in my ears, the fear still just as fresh as it had been when I first heard the screams.

Do not let me catch you. It's a game. Just - it's a game. Please... Please, don't let me catch you. I don't want to win this game, not now.

When Aleister Black had first rolled into my small Florida town, I had a hard time meeting his eyes. Danger and the threat of violence seemed to ooze from every pore in his body, let alone his intimidating presence. He was tall and broad, tattoos covering every visible inch of his upper body, his eyes sharp and calculating as they roamed over everyone and everything. I remember him walking into the diner where I worked the day after he'd moved to town and a hush had fallen over the establishment, even the rowdy bikers in the corner booth went still.

Of course he'd sat in my section. It was just my luck that he would. I remember being struck by how he had moved like a large cat, all sinewy muscle and effortless grace in what was clearly an expensive navy suit. When he'd sat at the counter and eyed the menu in front of him disinterestedly, the sleeves of his suit hiked high, exposing even more colorful ink high on his wrists, the patterns and symbols disappearing up into the sleeves of his jacket. My hands had shook something fierce as I had poured him coffee, somehow by the grace of whatever divinity exists, I had not spilled more than a drop.

"Relax, katje. I am another patron of your establishment, just here to enjoy the hospitality my new home has to offer."

His lightly accented voice was smoother than the hundred dollar bourbon I had snuck a nip of during the holidays and the way his sharp eyes had softened just a touch had done wonders to soothe my frayed nerves. I felt trapped in his gaze, but it wasn't something uncomfortable, oh no, his small smile had chased away any fears of this man. It was his words though that had seemed to break the spell of silence that had befallen the diner and the usual ruckus of Sunday breakfast had resumed.

He never did order anything beyond his coffee nor did he introduce himself, he just sat at the counter surveying the people of the diner over the rim of the tan mug that seemed so tiny in his hands. At the time, it hadn't struck me as odd that he seemed to be paying attention to the rowdy group of bikers in the corner booth. I made sure to top off his cup every time I passed by and I would be warmed to my core by the small, soft smile he would always send my way before it was wiped from his face as he turned to resume studying the occupants of the diner.

It was while I was tending to a particularly difficult group of teenage girls that he had disappeared and I was almost hurt that he'd left without saying goodbye. I had come back to his seat, heart heavy for a reason I didn't quite understand to clear his space of the empty cup and the small carafe of cream, when I saw it. The fresh, crisp hundred dollar note, underneath the saucer. I had looked around, eyes wide, for the mysterious man who had left a ninety eight dollar tip for a two dollar tab.

I didn't find him.

The next day, high ranking members of that biker gang, Los Lobos de Muerte, began to go missing. At first, local law enforcement had chalked it up to natural power struggles that sometimes shook criminal enterprises such as theirs. It wasn't until they began finding the bodies that the meetings that they were having near the end of my closing shifts began to get serious, the lawmen's faces dark and lined with worry and tension.

They had tried to keep their voices down as to not alarm whomever may have been in the diner that late with them, but I always seemed to catch a word here, a phrase there. They had been finding bodies in the woods, bodies that had looked like they had been mangled by something very large and very angry. The grizzled old police chief had looked gray in the face as he had muttered that he hadn't seen anything like this since the Lobos had driven the Vampiros out of town in the early nineties, when he had been a fresh faced homicide detective.

That was the overwhelming fear then, a gang war.

The nights I worked the late shift were not my favorites, as I would have to walk the ten minutes to my small flat alone and in near total darkness, with only the odd streetlight and my cell phone to illuminate my path. Since the bodies had begun being found, it was like I could see the bodies of dead bikers at the backs of my eyelids, my imagination conjuring up vivid and disturbing images of what those scenes must have looked like. I had chalked it up to my wild imagination then too that there was nothing to the feeling of a predatory pair of eyes watching me during my walk home.

My day shifts were a delight. Like clockwork, thirty minutes after my shift would start, he would walk in to the small diner, seat himself in my section, and patiently wait for me to turn my attentions to him. It was on the fourth occasion that I finally learned his name, Aleister Black. It was on the seventh occasion that he had kissed my knuckles goodbye, leaving me with a permanent flush staining my cheekbones and the sensation of walking on air for the rest of the night.

Beneath the cool and intimidating exterior, was a thoughtful and quiet man. He had a carefully articulate opinion on everything, whether it was the news of the day on the old television behind me or which of Luis the cook's pies were better. He was unerringly gentle, or so I thought, and mild mannered. Aleister had told me of growing up in Amsterdam, of his passion for his profession, professional wrestling, and his interest in collecting old vinyl albums. He'd even sought fit to show me personal photos, like those of his small puff cloud of a kitten named Totty Potato and of the wall of flash tattoo art he had slowly been putting together in his home.

I ignored the healing bruises on his knuckles. The faint traces of something rusty brown underneath his trimmed nails and lining his nail beds. The barely there, but still suspicious stains of the same color along the hems of his pants. The small cut below his eye had made me ask questions for a moment, but he had quickly given me a story about tripping while trying to avoid stepping on a mischievous Totty who had gotten underfoot.

We had fallen into an easy routine and I wasn't ashamed to say that I was infatuated by the man. I like to think that we became close during those moments in time, that I had gained a friend whom had the potential to be so much more than a friend.

It all came to a head tonight.

I was invited out by Sarah, one of the other waitresses in the diner, to this house party happening on the outskirts of town which she claimed was hosted by one of her friends. Halloween in our small town wasn't a joyous occasion, as the holiday had been marked by a string of disappearances every year for as long as anyone could seem to remember. The senior citizens in town would warn the young children in town to avoid going into the woods at night, for the things that made those sounds would surely eat them. The teens had found it to be a rite of passage, whoever could get the farthest into the woods would be seen as some sort of hero.

It was as we got older that the woods began to make us wary. On more than once occasion, I thought I had seen something staring back at me, only for it to disappear once I had blinked. I would have been happy to never go near the woods again, but my coworker was insistent. She was a bit of a wild one, always showing up to her shifts late, sometimes still drunk, with a half feral grin on her face.

She insisted on dressing me up as a woodland nymph, all gauzey material and chiffon and wild curls with strategic streaks of gold shimmer and glitter placed all over my body. Sarah had insisted that we'd be indoors all night, that there was no need for a jacket, that the tiny dress and the skyscraper heels were completely appropriate. I had agreed, especially after she had nudged some tequila shots my way.

The trip to the small house where the party was being held passed by in a blur of giggles and tequila. We had taken a cab and I dismissed it as a trick of the light the way her eyes seemed to flash a burning gold every time I would throw my head back to laugh uproariously at whatever joke the cabbie had told us, but when I turned to her with my brow furrowed, there was nothing.

We'd heard the party as we had turned onto the dirt road leading to the house, the bass reverberating in the air. When we had pulled up to the house, it was clear that this was a party unlike any I had seen or attended before. Motorcycles were lined up in a neat row on one side of the driveway but the other side was littered with bodies, some seemingly passed out, others milling and stumbling about.

I didn't have time to think as Sarah grasped my wrist in an iron grip so tight that I was sure it would leave bruises and dragged me from the cab and through the front door, the bass of the music swallowing my protests. She released me as soon as we were in the middle of the writhing dance floor and I had lost myself in the music, undulating and writhing in time with the frantic beat.

There was no concept of time passing, as I giggled and danced with both Sarah and nameless, faceless strangers alike without a care in the world. There was a peculiar energy to the room, something that spoke to the pleasant hum of alcohol in my veins and the primal side of my subconscious that would have terrified me if I had not been so inebriated. I had been enjoying myself with a ridiculously attractive man with long brown hair and a smile that damn near liquefied my panties, when I was pulled away roughly, stumbling backwards. My back was pressed against skin and leather, an all too familiar tattooed arm wrapped possessively around front.

I could see my dance partner's brilliant blue eyes go wide as he put his hands up in surrender and I could feel the rumble of growled words, which sent the other man retreating into the crowd with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs and Sarah was practically beaming, the light playing that trick again where her eyes appeared gold and maniacal.

"Do you like her Aleister? I got her just for you, just for tonight! She's perfect!"

He would have responded, I could feel the growl from his chest down to my core, but both he and the music were cut off by a pulse of energy that made every hair stand on end and every instinct in me screamed to run. I would have taken off if it weren't for his arm banding tighter around my chest as a cry went up around the room. Oh God, it was not a trick of the light.

The vast majority of the partygoers had those same golden eyes, their faces shifting ever so slightly to something sharper and more predatory, and all the attention was focused on me. I stiffened with fear, trembling something terrible and it felt like I had been dunked into a tub of ice water, sobriety hitting me like a freight train. No one dared to make a move though they did stare hungrily at me and I felt pinpricks in my hip... Were those claws?!

I could feel the tall man behind me shift on his feet, leaning down to whisper into my ear, though instinctually I knew that everyone in the room could hear his words like they were shouted.

"Stay close to me and no one will touch you. Just think of this as a game, katje. I will take care of you."

I had barely nodded my head when he barked at the horde of partygoers to go outside and they followed obediantly and without question, though Sarah seemed to linger amongst the last to leave, her face filled with malice and triumph. Aleister waited until everyone had shuffled outside to whirl me around, his normal sharp blue eyes suddenly a startling burning amber and the rough palms of his hands braced on my shoulders to keep me in place.

"Listen to me and listen to me closely because there isn't much time. You are precious to me and this was not the way I wanted this to be. You are going to see and experience things tonight that I wouldn't wish for you. I will do my best to shield you from the worst of it, katje, but you must promise me this. You must not let anyone catch you once it starts. Get out of the woods and to the road as fast as you can."

I blinked glibly, trying to process what exactly was going on.

"I-I don't understand, what is happening Aleister? I'm scared, this isn't like you and what is happening with your eyes?"

His nostrils flared as he took a deep inhale, the pupils of his now gold eyes blowing wide as I could make out the nervous bobbing of his Adam's apple through his beard. His hands tightened on my shoulders and he leaned in close, his eye contact unwavering. Aleister was close, oh so close, wearing nothing but a leather vest with intricate patches in a foreign language and strange symbols and a pair of dark jeans that had too have been painted on. The heat was radiating off of him and soaking into my cold with fear body.

"I can smell the tequila you had before you came here. I can smell the whiskey that Cole drank before he started to dance with you. I know that your boss at the diner yells at you if you're not early to your shift in the office. I know you're terrified out your mind right now. I'm asking you to trust me and do what I say. I will explain as much as I can."

The earnestness of his words and the honesty in his eyes had me nodding in assent before I had even realized what I had done. I couldn't take it back, as he had grasped me by the hand, interlacing our fingers, and pulled me to the backyard.

As soon as we had crossed the threshold, a cacophony of cries and howls went into the air, the blood thirst suddenly and painfully clear. Whatever warmth that had been imparted on me by Aleister's closeness had been chased away yet again by the ice cold wave of fear that pumped through my system. Sarah was there, at the front of the crowd, looking feral and hungry, ruthless glee clear in her body language.

The man next to me raised his hand and the din quieted instantaneously.

"This one, she is mine to hunt. Only mine. The bitch who brought her here though..."

This wasn't the Aleister who had comforted me inside. This wasn't the quiet and gentle man who kept me company during my shifts. This was the man I had caught glimpses of that first time he had strolled into town: powerful, commanding, and cold. His claiming words sent a shiver of fear and... anticipation? down my spine. The horde of people in the back turned their hungry gazes to Sarah, who's face went pale and fearful.

"She will be the first sacrifice to Herne tonight."

A victorious chorus of yips went up as the group moved as a single unit to surround Sarah, her cries for mercy and pleads barely audible. There was a primordial electricity in the air and it was affecting everyone, some sort of shift overtaking everyone. It was that first cry of pain from the center of the group that made the watchful Aleister turn to me and order me to run.

Do not let me catch you. It's a game. Just - it's a game. Please... Please, don't let me catch you. I don't want to win this game, not now.

He was different, like he was bursting through his skin and could barely contain his energy. His teeth were bared and sharper than I remembered. I needed no other provocation, kicking off the tower like heels and taking off into the woods, screams and the sickeningly wet sound of flesh tearing following me.

I could see him at the corners of my eyes, alternating between from running on all fours like an animal and running faster than should be possible on two legs. It was hell trying to not think about the forest floor cutting into my feet, thorns and stones having cut the soles of my feet open and bloody long ago. I knew he was toying with me, getting close enough to growl my name or breaking twigs, just to drive me further into my panic. It was when he reached out to touch my arm, that I knew I was done for.

The sudden touch to the back of my arm startled me just enough that it broke my concentration on the path in front of me and I tripped heavily over an exposed tree root. The impact of the fall drove the air out of my lungs as pain bloomed in my hands and forearms. Not one second later, Aleister was upon me, flipping me over to face him as he loomed over my body, his knees bracketing my hips and his hands pinning my wrists to the ground.

"I'm sorry. katje. I didn't want it like this, didn't want to hurt you. This... I'm not strong enough to fight this. The call, the magick is too strong."

It was at this point that I realized he was completely naked and... painfully aroused if the heavy length pressing into my abdomen was anything to go on. Whatever magick had taken a hold of him, was beginning to affect me, a warm and pleasant tingle starting at my extremities and working towards my center, the buzz in my veins competing with my fear in a way that was maddening.

"You said that this was just a game."

He shook his head wildly, hair slick with sweat.

"Its the Hunt. Once a year... I'm so sorry, it's too much for even me to resist."

What possessed me to crane upwards and brush my lips against his still baffles me, as did my words, "I trust you. Take what you need."

He groaned and then his hands were everywhere.

The fabric of my dress and my undergarments shredded underneath his grip and his mouth was leaving violent, open mouthed and bruising kisses along my neck and chest, teeth digging in hard enough to leave imprints of his too sharp to be human canines. The buzz of the Hunt magick was pumping through my veins, fanning the small embers of arousal into something almost painful.

He'd shifted so that my legs were around his hips and the blunt head of himself was brushing up against my slick core, catching in a way that drove little gasps out of me and sent my hips rutting upwards like I was in heat. His grip around my wrists was painful as he growled a warning to be careful, but I paid no mind, the haze of magick having already driven the sense from my body. It took several tries, but I finally rolled my hips in such a way that I caught the tip of his cock at my entrance and then I pushed my hips upward to impale myself on as much of him as I could.

Aleister barked at the sudden penetration, but wasn't caught off guard for long, driving himself into me with a force that sent all the air out of my lungs and my eyes wide. He was a force of nature then, pistoning himself in and out of me at a merciless pace, his teeth bared in my face. I was a creature of sensation, mewling and whining and screaming with every thrust.

I made the mistake of, in the foggy red haze of lust and pleasure, of raising my hips to meet Aleister's. He apparently took it as a challenge to his masculinity because I blinked and I was on all fours, with his hand gripping my hair painfully tight and his teeth drawing blood in my shoulder blade. I wasn't sure if it was his teeth or the feel of him impossibly deep in me or some sort of combination of both but my voice was driven from me and I had no choice but to claw at the dirt and pant under his body's assault of mine.

The coil that had been tightening in me at a too rapid pace was at the verge of snapping when he reached between us to pinch at the little bundle of nerves just above where we were joined and I screamed as my vision went white. Neither the tremors that wracked my body or the way that my internal walls clung to him greedily seemed to slow Aleister down and I was soon just a raw and exposed nerve ending of pleasure.

My memory of what happened after that was spotty. I know that we spent several hours rolling around on the forest floor, taking our fill of one another in the most primal and carnal of ways. Even through the red haze of the Hunt magick and lust, I could vaguely recall a tall, impossibly tall man, with hair as red as fire and the most beautiful of antlers watching us almost proudly before disappearing within a blink of an eye.

I woke up to the sun peeking through my windows, completely naked but clean, in my own bed. I was sore, painfully so, but my cuts were cleaned and my poor feet bandaged. Next to me on the night stand was an overly large bottle of water, three protein bars, and a carefully folded note. My body screamed, every inch of skin seemingly bruised and every muscle shaking from over exertion, as I rolled across the queen bed to reach the note.

We need to talk. I will be at your home at nightfall.

Herne was among us last night.

Aleister. xx

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#aleister black imagine #aleister black smut #aleister black fic #31 little wrestling fics

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