Join Date: Mar 2006
Location: Iceland*
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Wicked Game
While holding the brutalised guard, Lamb, in a choke hold with his rifle, Taylor is unable to react to Cherry Bell’s advances, which she takes full advantage of for several seconds. Once Taylor has determined that Lamb is unconscious and breathing, he drops him to the ground, along with Taylor’s rifle and Lamb’s shotgun. With his right hand, Taylor grabs Cherry Bell’s offending hand. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself enough to speak, but when he does, his voice is steady.
Taylor: “This what friendship mean to you, Sherilyn? We done talked ‘bout this.”
Cherry Bell: “Yeah, well, that was before I noticed how much of your boring Boy Scout bull---- is just a mask for the real you. Real you got a darkness in him. Real you’s dangerous, scary and sexy. Guess growing up was good for you.”
Cherry Bell doesn’t try to break Taylor’s hold on her right hand, but instead uses it for leverage to transition over his left shoulder, feet first, in an incredible display of inhuman agility. She ends up face-to-face with Taylor, straddling his hips with her legs and nuzzling his neck. Taylor lifts up their right hands, still entangled, to try to push her away, but while she only weighs two-thirds of his weight, she has a very real grapple on his core restricting his motions and he’s unwilling to push her away hard enough to hurt.
Taylor can’t figure out what Bell thinks she is doing. Not being an idiot, he rules out the explanation that she just couldn’t resist his manly charms a moment longer. But even if she’s deliberately trying to seduce him for some reason that makes sense to her, she ought to know him well enough to know that the way she’s acting now isn’t at all calculated to appeal to him. In fact, she ought to know that it all but guarantees that he’ll push her away, leading to a nasty fight. That’s what she wants.
Taylor: “Sherilyn Bell, I ain’t gonna push you away an’ I ain’t gonna play your game. Won’t you jes’ look silly perched up there all night like a scairedy-cat gone climbed the swing tree?”
The sound of a rubber stock being shouldered against a ballistic material precedes the sound of a gun’s action by a fraction of a second. Taylor’s chagrin at not having noticed anyone approaching this close is washed away by a wave of fear. As the shot rings out, Taylor leaps to the side, doing his best to shield Bell with his entire body. Taylor can see the projectile narrowly miss him. It’s large and fairly slow-moving, probably a baton or other type of less-than-lethal munition from the shotgun that the guard is now pumping for another shot.
While kicking off the wall to turn his sideways leap into a run toward the threat, Taylor notes idly that the shooter is Hewitt, the guard who initially brought them to Sherilyn Bell’s cell in J Wing, Taylor estimates that he’ll never be able to reach him before Hewitt fires again. Not with Sherilyn still wrapped around him, slowing him down. Taylor doesn’t know whether the shotgun is loaded entirely with less-than-lethal munitions, but keeps in mind that it would be standard procedure. Unless the first projectile wasn’t a baton, but a frangible breaching slug, in which case the rest of the tube could be more slugs or 00 buckshot.
Hewitt finishes pumping the next shell into the chamber and his finger tightens around the trigger. Tracking where the barrel is pointing, Taylor spins around to present his back to Hewitt and protect Bell as well as he can. He figures he’ll get hit, but the assault vest should stop most shotgun loads from penetrating. Hopefully. At worst, both sides of the vest and his entire upper body would be enough to prevent Sherilyn from being hit, even if it was a slug.
As a heavy blow to his upper back staggers Taylor, hammers the breath from his lungs and making him feel like he’s being crushed, Taylor belatedly realises he’d forgotten how much getting shot hurts. He takes some comfort from the fact that this much immediate pain probably means a large surface bruise and not a truly disabling penetrating injury or broken bones, which would probably overwhelm his system with shock at first.
Not stopping to assess his injuries, Taylor finishes his spin with a jumping right foot roundhouse kick for Hewitt’s knee. Cherry Bell focuses her power on Hewitt and he sees Taylor morph into a reptilian creature with impossibly long, inhuman limbs, hissing through a forked tongue. Hewitt’s terrified denials are cut short by the powerful kick, which crushes the tibia and knee cap, bending the leg at an ugly angle. Before Hewitt can fall to the ground, Taylor has launched into a flying left knee to his midsection. Taylor’s knee hits Hewitt in the groin with enough force to launch him slightly off the ground and turns Hewitt’s scream of pain and terror into an indrawn groan.
Cherry Bell: “Oh, yes! God, Chase, yes, yes, don’t stop!”
Hewitt is obviously seriously hurt and will crumble to the ground as his legs cannot hold him up, but he still has the shotgun in one hand and a pistol on his duty belt. And a broken leg, even a crushed pelvis, won’t prevent a determined man from pulling a trigger. Hewitt doesn’t look determined. He probably isn’t. Feeling sick, Taylor knows that ‘probably’ gets men killed when they rely on it. As Hewitt falls forward, Taylor grabs his head and pulls it down to meet another knee, aimed at the jaw. Hewitt goes down as if poleaxed, clearly unconscious. Still breathing, thank God for small mercies.
Cherry Bell [breathing hard]: “More, sweetie! Let’s find another.”
Bell looks toward the door where the female voice is still demanding to be let out, beating and kicking at the door.
Bell: “Let’s do her next! It will be like a threesome!”
Taylor scans the corridor for more threats, but sees no one. Both Hewitt and Lamb are still breathing, though both sound tortured and weak to Taylor’s guilty ear. Other people, further off, are obviously reacting to the gunfire, with several men a floor above calling for support by radio. Taylor counts four on the second level of the main building, but none of them seems to be planning to descend the stairs that would bring them down to the hallway just yet.
Bell: “C’mon, lover. Why don't ya fu…”
Taylor grunts in frustration and fury. Grabbing Cherry Bell with both hands, he slams her into the next wall. Not quite hard enough to injure her through assault vest and helmet, but certainly enough to stun her into shocked silence. Taylor’s voice is not loud, but it is a low, coldly furious growl, dramatically different from his usual friendly drawl.
Taylor: “You don’t even want this! You’re jes’ playing some kinda sick game!”
Looking into Sherilyn’s face, Taylor is surprised to notice that while she may be faking her interest in him, specifically, she is not just feigning arousal. Her pupils are insanely dilated, her face and neck flushed, her back arching involuntarily as she tries to maintain bodily contact while pushed against the wall and her breathing and heart rate through the roof. In fact, if her physical responses are anything like Lola’s, Taylor’s ex-wife, Sherilyn’s body is giving every indication of being moments away from climax. Even with the shock of Taylor’s action, Sherilyn looks very much in the mood to disprove Taylor’s accusation of not wanting him. If I were jes’ to stop fighting it, melt into her…
The rapidity of her physical responses make no sense. Even if Taylor were conceited enough to imagine that he were the cause, they’ve been touching for less than half a minute. In Taylor’s limited experience, nobody goes from ‘normal’ to ‘orgasm’ in twenty seconds of dry humping someone who’s not even reciprocating. It’s her power. She’s turned on by what she did to these men. With a flash of insight, Taylor realises that even if her instant euphoric arousal might be a side-effect of her mental powers, his own regret, shame and pain at having to hurt the guards is what most appeals to Bell about the situation.
Cherry Bell: “No! Chase, please don’t look at me like that! I… I was screwing with you, yes. I was angry… thought you’d been ignoring me and were being bossy… I… it… it was just supposed to be teasing! But it got out of hand!”
Bell’s voice rises at the end and she looks about to start crying. Her legs are still wrapped around Taylor’s hips, though his outstretched arms on her shoulders mean that their entire bodies no longer touch, and Bell continues to push herself forward, trying to make their contact more sexual, even while her contrition seems entirely genuine.
Bell: “I’m so stupid! And now you hate me!”
Taylor: “Naw, Lynnie. I don’t hate ya. Lord help me, I think I cain’t. But why would ya ever risk our lives an’ get people hurt bad jes’ to play mind games with me?”
Bell [crying]: “’Cause I think I’m broken!”
Taylor: “You is jes’ tore up. An’ if’n you really is broken, I’s fixin’ to put you back together, like Humpty Dumpty. Them horses jes’ gots hooves, while I’ve got thumbs an’ all.” [pauses] “I ain’t gonna judge you for being tore up from ever’thing done happened, Lynnie. If’n you care about what I think, though, you cain’t hurt people less’n you got no choice. Hurt me if’n you must, but don’t ever put me inna position where I gotta hurt or kill somebody jes’ because o’ you playing games.”
Bell [babbling and crying]: “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Taylor [holding her comfortingly]: “Shush, Lynnie. I’ve got you an’ I ain’t lettin’ you go.”
Bell: “Why did you hafta come back! I love somebody else. You’re ruining everything. You’re not even my type. I’m so confused! And it’s all your fault!”
Taylor shushes her with a hand signal, listening intently.
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Za uspiekh nashevo beznadiozhnovo diela!
Last edited by Icelander; 01-23-2018 at 12:43 PM.
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