The hydracropsychic effect
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
854
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
854
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
A rude awakening.
~A rude awakening~Chap.8
After, she had seen Laurent out the door Annie scurried about trying to make the house once again presentable. Her parents were the type of people who noticed if one little thing was out of its usual place. She spent at least 35 minutes trying to fix up their bed. She was blushing hotly when she had finished. Her and Laurent certainly had made a mess of the place. Pillows and blankets tossed carelessly about.
He hadn't seemed to mind fucking in her parent's bed. Quite the contrary he'd seemed to have enjoyed it as much as she had. Then she entered the shower reluctantly. Her parents would be able to smell him on her. She stood under the hot spray and her sore muscles seemed to sigh with pleasure. She let her hand slide between her legs, prodding, examining the damage. She was sore but other than that she could feel no difference. Her arms had begun to bruise in the distinct shape of handprints. She couldn't help but smile as she pressed them and a dull pain shot through her. Good thing most of her shirts were long sleeved.
She finished her shower, dried her hair and then got dressed into her nightclothes. She picked up the shirt she had lent to Laurent out of the laundry pile, and held it to her face. If she closed her eyes it was almost like he was right beside her. She missed him already and she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She plopped onto the couch and turned on the T.V almost as an after thought.
The evening news flickered across the screen and though she tried to pay attention her mind drifted off. She watched with her eyes, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Just an hour ago Laurent and her had been talking on this couch. Talking, laughing, kissing, and how content she had felt. She could remember the yielding wet-heat of his mouth, how perfectly he had fit himself inside her. They had been laughing innocently enough, Laurent had said something that had her rolling with laughter. When she looked up from her laughing fit she saw that he'd somehow come closer without her noticing.
She was flat on her back and he was kneeling above her still smiling. Then the smile altered and became a different expression altogether. Then his lips were at her neck, he lapped at her throat and nipped delicately on her earlobes. She was paralyzed with these new sensations. When she was able to move again she reached up and removed his shirt, and he helped her out of her clothes. She had forgotten how deep his chest was, how well formed and she was in a hell of desire for him.
He lowered his head to her collarbones, which he smothered with kisses and the occasional sharp nip. He did this all down her body pausing at her breasts, her stomach, and finally at her crotch. When he kissed her there she felt something die inside her. But out of the ashes rose the fabled phoenix, and pure heat rushed through her veins. He brought her off this way once, and then continued his ministrations on other parts of her body. She writhed beneath him and her helplessness was deliciously erotic.
She wanted to touch him, to embrace this man that could reduce her to a trembling wreck so easily. She slid her hands up and down his broad back, over his firm ass, and up his sweat slicked chest. When her hands encountered the many slashes he flinched and closed his eyes tightly. Did they still hurt, or was it only their memory that troubled him? She had never looked at them this closely, she had stroked them and he had not tried to stop her.
The pink and silver scar tissue enchanted her and she continued her explorations. She flicked her tongue out to taste them and she heard him groan. Whatever it was that had created these scars he obviously had mixed feelings about. Yet she did not ask. She continued to pleasure him until suddenly he held her down so roughly she was briefly frightened. He gave her no warning, just as suddenly he was moving inside her. She struggled to adjust to the new sensation as she felt something tear inside and she cried out piteously. Soon the pain was subsumed by pleasure so strong she wasn't sure if it hurt or felt good.
Then she was coming with Laurent, holding his face, forcing him to look at her, to share her pleasure as for an instant they became one person. She was snapped out of her memory by the sound of her parents coming in the front door. "Honey were home!" her mother called out cheerfully. "What are you up to sweetie?" her father asked as he joined her on the couch. "Just watching the news." She mumbled. "Anything interesting?" She paused searching for any little thing that might have lodged itself in her mind. "Not really."
Then she rose to make room for her mother. "Where are you going honey?" "I just have to use the bathroom. Ill be right back." She locked herself in the bathroom and slid down against the door with a sigh. She threw cold water in her face and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. "No that different," she muttered. As she walked back into the living room she could hear her parents discussing the news. "Its people like him that make me worry about our darling Annie!" she exclaimed. "Really, that man is a sick individual. They need to find him and lock his ass up before her hurts anybody else. "Her father agreed. "What are you guys talking about?" she asked, taking a seat beside her mother.
She glanced up at the T.V. screen and what she saw stopped her heart for 3 beats. "Laurent!" she gasped. "Yes," her father said nervously "how did you know his name?" "She's been watching the news all night Richard." Her mother snapped, coming to her rescue. "How terrible! Imagine setting your own house on fire with your wife and children trapped inside. How dreadful!" "What?" Annie gasped. "Well that mans wanted for Arson, of his own home! His wife and their 3 kids died in the fire, one of them was only 1 year old! I do hope they find him. Knowing he's out there somewhere makes me very uneasy."
Her father turned and stared at her. "Annie your face is chalk white, are you alright sweetie?" Suddenly she felt very ill. "I'm going to bed now. Good night." And she fled to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet. She dry heaved for some time. When her stomach had stopped churning she leaned back against the wall. The man in that picture, he was younger, and happier looking, but it was most defiantly Laurent.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" she whined. "What have I done? I don't believe this. I don't fucking believe this!" She slammed her fists against the tiled floor. I was such an idiot. He used me! His wife and kids, all of them dead. Laurent, the man she was in love with was a, a, murderer. How could she not have guessed this? It was all there behind those eyes if shed only looked hard enough. Perhaps she hadn't wanted to see it. She left the bathroom and sat down in the corner of her bedroom, not wanting to sit on the bed.
She lay down and her vision blurred with silent tears. Did he think she was stupid? That she wouldn't find out sooner or later? He better not come back. If he came back she would scream at the top of her lungs and call the police. She had let him touch her with his hands, hands that were responsible for innocent deaths. She had given herself to him, and he didn't even have the fucking balls to admit he was cold-blooded killer. She had wanted to believe his problems had a more noble purpose behind them.
She wished him dead. He should have just fucking killed himself like he had planned to. Then she wished herself dead. I wish he hadn't stopped me, I should have known better. Am I really that blind? What if they catch him and he tells them I helped him? Am I going to be in trouble too? So many questions filled her mind and she didn't have an answer for any of them. "Laurent how could you betray me like this?" I deserved to know the truth about this! She raged inside herself.
You should have told me before. Before I fell in love with you. She thought of the first night they had met. Him sitting under that tree in the rain, clothes mucky, face dirtied with, with ashes. You had just done it hadn't you, you bastard? You weren't satisfied with just your wife, your kids, your own misery; you want to take me too. Then she heard a sharp tapping at her window and she went completely still. Her tears stopped instantly and she thought she might be sick again. Don't answer it, she instructed herself. You know it's him. That's why you want to answer it her conscience helpfully informed her.
She got up slowly her legs like lead, her knees trembling. She drew back the curtain slowly and even though she was expecting him, actually seeing him there filled her with dumb terror. Her emotions swirled about like mixed paints, anger, fear, and joy. Not necessarily in that order. He motioned frantically for her to come outside. She searched his face for a sign of evil intent, but found none. It unnerved her that he did not have anything special that identified him as someone to be feared. You always assume the bad guys will be so easily identified. But now she knew this to be a misconception.
She locked her door and slowly opened the window. He reached out to help her over the ledge but she smacked his hand away. He looked stung by this but he didn't speak. He took her hand and began to lead her away from the house. "What the fuck are you doing?" she gasped and wrenched her hand away. "Annie I know I've got a lot of explaining to do and Ill do it but not right now. Right now I want you to come with me. I have to leave here and I want to take you with me. Please? I promise Ill take care of you. But if you're going to come we've got to hurry. We have a lot of driving ahead of us."
"Take care of me? You mean like you took care of your wife and kids?" she practically snarled. His face went as pale as she assumed hers had when shed first heard the news. His mouth dropped open and he began to tremble violently. "Annie how did you find out about that? Oh god. Oh fuck. Annie listen to me. Its not at all like it sounds!" "Oh yeah that's what they all say. Let me guess the voices made you do it right?" He held up his hand pleadingly. "Annie please listen to me!" "No! Fuck you, you listen. I'm sick of your bullshit. Why didn't you tell me? Did you think a girl who was stupid enough to let strangers into her house was dense enough not to realize she was hiding a wanted man?"
"No that's not it, I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you after we got away. I wanted to get as far away as possible. I tried to leave you. I promised myself that I wouldn't come back but I had to. I couldn't stand the thought of you thinking that id just abandoned you. That what happened between us didn't mean anything to me. It meant everything to me Annie. I meant what I said I'm in love with you!" "What happened between us is over Laurent. How can I ever trust you again?" She new she was crying. "No Baby please don't cry. Don't do this to me." He moaned as he reached out to wipe at her tears. "Don't fucking touch me!" she shouted. "Fine I wont touch you but please give me a chance to tell my side of the story. Please let me explain?" His eyes shone with unshed tears and he looked sadder and more desperate then shed ever seen him. Perhaps that's why she decided to grant his plea. Maybe it was love.
Nonetheless she let him take her hand and lead her to his car. "Where are we going?" she asked bluntly. "To the lake where else? We need to talk Annie." "No shit," she spat. "You told me that you loved me Annie, and I know you meant it. For the sake of that love, just hear me out all right? I'm sorry its come down to this. I wanted to tell you myself. I was going to tell you tonight." He reached out and enclosed her shaking hand in his. "I love you Annie. I would never, ever, hurt you. You know that don't you?" "I don't know." She whispered.
"The other night you asked me to trust you, and I said that I would try. Well now I'm trusting you. I'm going to tell you everything I should have from the beginning. I want you to listen to all I have to say. I want you to trust me too." "Why do you care what I think? Every second you waste is a second they could be tracking you down. Why don't you just get out of here? I wont tell on you, you don't have to worry." The words sounded forced even to her own ears. "I care because I'm in love with you Annie! I don't care if I get caught. If you still love me then I can handle whatever happens to me. I want to make things right between us. Please can we try?"
She sighed and looked down at their clasped hands, then back up into his eyes. They were still that dull green, his face was still old and tired looking, his hair was still messy and dark. What was the difference between the man she fell in love with and the killer sitting beside her? Well besides the obvious she couldn't see any difference.
Suddenly she just wanted to hold him and tell him that he could never do anything to cause her to love him less. He leaned forward in his seat and kissed her so gently she barely felt it. She ignored the returning sense of foreboding even as the words "You'll regret this," flashed behind her eyes. "Alright Laurent," she finally relented, "We can try."
After, she had seen Laurent out the door Annie scurried about trying to make the house once again presentable. Her parents were the type of people who noticed if one little thing was out of its usual place. She spent at least 35 minutes trying to fix up their bed. She was blushing hotly when she had finished. Her and Laurent certainly had made a mess of the place. Pillows and blankets tossed carelessly about.
He hadn't seemed to mind fucking in her parent's bed. Quite the contrary he'd seemed to have enjoyed it as much as she had. Then she entered the shower reluctantly. Her parents would be able to smell him on her. She stood under the hot spray and her sore muscles seemed to sigh with pleasure. She let her hand slide between her legs, prodding, examining the damage. She was sore but other than that she could feel no difference. Her arms had begun to bruise in the distinct shape of handprints. She couldn't help but smile as she pressed them and a dull pain shot through her. Good thing most of her shirts were long sleeved.
She finished her shower, dried her hair and then got dressed into her nightclothes. She picked up the shirt she had lent to Laurent out of the laundry pile, and held it to her face. If she closed her eyes it was almost like he was right beside her. She missed him already and she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She plopped onto the couch and turned on the T.V almost as an after thought.
The evening news flickered across the screen and though she tried to pay attention her mind drifted off. She watched with her eyes, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Just an hour ago Laurent and her had been talking on this couch. Talking, laughing, kissing, and how content she had felt. She could remember the yielding wet-heat of his mouth, how perfectly he had fit himself inside her. They had been laughing innocently enough, Laurent had said something that had her rolling with laughter. When she looked up from her laughing fit she saw that he'd somehow come closer without her noticing.
She was flat on her back and he was kneeling above her still smiling. Then the smile altered and became a different expression altogether. Then his lips were at her neck, he lapped at her throat and nipped delicately on her earlobes. She was paralyzed with these new sensations. When she was able to move again she reached up and removed his shirt, and he helped her out of her clothes. She had forgotten how deep his chest was, how well formed and she was in a hell of desire for him.
He lowered his head to her collarbones, which he smothered with kisses and the occasional sharp nip. He did this all down her body pausing at her breasts, her stomach, and finally at her crotch. When he kissed her there she felt something die inside her. But out of the ashes rose the fabled phoenix, and pure heat rushed through her veins. He brought her off this way once, and then continued his ministrations on other parts of her body. She writhed beneath him and her helplessness was deliciously erotic.
She wanted to touch him, to embrace this man that could reduce her to a trembling wreck so easily. She slid her hands up and down his broad back, over his firm ass, and up his sweat slicked chest. When her hands encountered the many slashes he flinched and closed his eyes tightly. Did they still hurt, or was it only their memory that troubled him? She had never looked at them this closely, she had stroked them and he had not tried to stop her.
The pink and silver scar tissue enchanted her and she continued her explorations. She flicked her tongue out to taste them and she heard him groan. Whatever it was that had created these scars he obviously had mixed feelings about. Yet she did not ask. She continued to pleasure him until suddenly he held her down so roughly she was briefly frightened. He gave her no warning, just as suddenly he was moving inside her. She struggled to adjust to the new sensation as she felt something tear inside and she cried out piteously. Soon the pain was subsumed by pleasure so strong she wasn't sure if it hurt or felt good.
Then she was coming with Laurent, holding his face, forcing him to look at her, to share her pleasure as for an instant they became one person. She was snapped out of her memory by the sound of her parents coming in the front door. "Honey were home!" her mother called out cheerfully. "What are you up to sweetie?" her father asked as he joined her on the couch. "Just watching the news." She mumbled. "Anything interesting?" She paused searching for any little thing that might have lodged itself in her mind. "Not really."
Then she rose to make room for her mother. "Where are you going honey?" "I just have to use the bathroom. Ill be right back." She locked herself in the bathroom and slid down against the door with a sigh. She threw cold water in her face and scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. "No that different," she muttered. As she walked back into the living room she could hear her parents discussing the news. "Its people like him that make me worry about our darling Annie!" she exclaimed. "Really, that man is a sick individual. They need to find him and lock his ass up before her hurts anybody else. "Her father agreed. "What are you guys talking about?" she asked, taking a seat beside her mother.
She glanced up at the T.V. screen and what she saw stopped her heart for 3 beats. "Laurent!" she gasped. "Yes," her father said nervously "how did you know his name?" "She's been watching the news all night Richard." Her mother snapped, coming to her rescue. "How terrible! Imagine setting your own house on fire with your wife and children trapped inside. How dreadful!" "What?" Annie gasped. "Well that mans wanted for Arson, of his own home! His wife and their 3 kids died in the fire, one of them was only 1 year old! I do hope they find him. Knowing he's out there somewhere makes me very uneasy."
Her father turned and stared at her. "Annie your face is chalk white, are you alright sweetie?" Suddenly she felt very ill. "I'm going to bed now. Good night." And she fled to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet. She dry heaved for some time. When her stomach had stopped churning she leaned back against the wall. The man in that picture, he was younger, and happier looking, but it was most defiantly Laurent.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" she whined. "What have I done? I don't believe this. I don't fucking believe this!" She slammed her fists against the tiled floor. I was such an idiot. He used me! His wife and kids, all of them dead. Laurent, the man she was in love with was a, a, murderer. How could she not have guessed this? It was all there behind those eyes if shed only looked hard enough. Perhaps she hadn't wanted to see it. She left the bathroom and sat down in the corner of her bedroom, not wanting to sit on the bed.
She lay down and her vision blurred with silent tears. Did he think she was stupid? That she wouldn't find out sooner or later? He better not come back. If he came back she would scream at the top of her lungs and call the police. She had let him touch her with his hands, hands that were responsible for innocent deaths. She had given herself to him, and he didn't even have the fucking balls to admit he was cold-blooded killer. She had wanted to believe his problems had a more noble purpose behind them.
She wished him dead. He should have just fucking killed himself like he had planned to. Then she wished herself dead. I wish he hadn't stopped me, I should have known better. Am I really that blind? What if they catch him and he tells them I helped him? Am I going to be in trouble too? So many questions filled her mind and she didn't have an answer for any of them. "Laurent how could you betray me like this?" I deserved to know the truth about this! She raged inside herself.
You should have told me before. Before I fell in love with you. She thought of the first night they had met. Him sitting under that tree in the rain, clothes mucky, face dirtied with, with ashes. You had just done it hadn't you, you bastard? You weren't satisfied with just your wife, your kids, your own misery; you want to take me too. Then she heard a sharp tapping at her window and she went completely still. Her tears stopped instantly and she thought she might be sick again. Don't answer it, she instructed herself. You know it's him. That's why you want to answer it her conscience helpfully informed her.
She got up slowly her legs like lead, her knees trembling. She drew back the curtain slowly and even though she was expecting him, actually seeing him there filled her with dumb terror. Her emotions swirled about like mixed paints, anger, fear, and joy. Not necessarily in that order. He motioned frantically for her to come outside. She searched his face for a sign of evil intent, but found none. It unnerved her that he did not have anything special that identified him as someone to be feared. You always assume the bad guys will be so easily identified. But now she knew this to be a misconception.
She locked her door and slowly opened the window. He reached out to help her over the ledge but she smacked his hand away. He looked stung by this but he didn't speak. He took her hand and began to lead her away from the house. "What the fuck are you doing?" she gasped and wrenched her hand away. "Annie I know I've got a lot of explaining to do and Ill do it but not right now. Right now I want you to come with me. I have to leave here and I want to take you with me. Please? I promise Ill take care of you. But if you're going to come we've got to hurry. We have a lot of driving ahead of us."
"Take care of me? You mean like you took care of your wife and kids?" she practically snarled. His face went as pale as she assumed hers had when shed first heard the news. His mouth dropped open and he began to tremble violently. "Annie how did you find out about that? Oh god. Oh fuck. Annie listen to me. Its not at all like it sounds!" "Oh yeah that's what they all say. Let me guess the voices made you do it right?" He held up his hand pleadingly. "Annie please listen to me!" "No! Fuck you, you listen. I'm sick of your bullshit. Why didn't you tell me? Did you think a girl who was stupid enough to let strangers into her house was dense enough not to realize she was hiding a wanted man?"
"No that's not it, I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you after we got away. I wanted to get as far away as possible. I tried to leave you. I promised myself that I wouldn't come back but I had to. I couldn't stand the thought of you thinking that id just abandoned you. That what happened between us didn't mean anything to me. It meant everything to me Annie. I meant what I said I'm in love with you!" "What happened between us is over Laurent. How can I ever trust you again?" She new she was crying. "No Baby please don't cry. Don't do this to me." He moaned as he reached out to wipe at her tears. "Don't fucking touch me!" she shouted. "Fine I wont touch you but please give me a chance to tell my side of the story. Please let me explain?" His eyes shone with unshed tears and he looked sadder and more desperate then shed ever seen him. Perhaps that's why she decided to grant his plea. Maybe it was love.
Nonetheless she let him take her hand and lead her to his car. "Where are we going?" she asked bluntly. "To the lake where else? We need to talk Annie." "No shit," she spat. "You told me that you loved me Annie, and I know you meant it. For the sake of that love, just hear me out all right? I'm sorry its come down to this. I wanted to tell you myself. I was going to tell you tonight." He reached out and enclosed her shaking hand in his. "I love you Annie. I would never, ever, hurt you. You know that don't you?" "I don't know." She whispered.
"The other night you asked me to trust you, and I said that I would try. Well now I'm trusting you. I'm going to tell you everything I should have from the beginning. I want you to listen to all I have to say. I want you to trust me too." "Why do you care what I think? Every second you waste is a second they could be tracking you down. Why don't you just get out of here? I wont tell on you, you don't have to worry." The words sounded forced even to her own ears. "I care because I'm in love with you Annie! I don't care if I get caught. If you still love me then I can handle whatever happens to me. I want to make things right between us. Please can we try?"
She sighed and looked down at their clasped hands, then back up into his eyes. They were still that dull green, his face was still old and tired looking, his hair was still messy and dark. What was the difference between the man she fell in love with and the killer sitting beside her? Well besides the obvious she couldn't see any difference.
Suddenly she just wanted to hold him and tell him that he could never do anything to cause her to love him less. He leaned forward in his seat and kissed her so gently she barely felt it. She ignored the returning sense of foreboding even as the words "You'll regret this," flashed behind her eyes. "Alright Laurent," she finally relented, "We can try."