Page 31 of Neon Pestilence
Her eyes snap to mine, and she screams as her orgasm crashes around her. She doesn’t stop looking at me, though.
Instead, she catches me by surprise, reaching toward my uncovered face as her body spasms between us. I flinch, scared of her intention, but my heart calms as her fingers find my cheek and she caresses it, rubbing soft circles against my jawline.
My heart stutters.
And she smiles again.
“Beautiful,” she whispers, a tear slipping down her face.
I don’t know if any of this will work. If the festival will accept her, if the voices will stop.
But as she writhes, looking up at me like I’m her cure, I realize that none of this was ever about the infection.
It was about her. My Indy. My angel.
I unravel the ropes around her thighs, red marks covering them like a map of my obsession. I grip her hips and bring her to her feet. Placing my palm out in front of her, she intertwines her fingers with mine, her face turning a deep crimson.
We look at the audience as one. Bodies dance around infected corpses like a fucked up offering. Bass booms around us, each pulse beating under our feet like the start of something new.
We walk.
Into the crowd, into the infection.
As a cure, as one.
Asus.
And, I know forever will look a lot more promising with her by my side.
Epilogue
Mortella
His hips buck into me painfully from behind as I watch The Doctor on stage. He has his toy bent over as he finger fucks her into oblivion.
“Fuck you’re so wet, mon chérie.” His voice melts over me like ice cream on a hot day.
“Only for you, devil,” I purr, my voice laced with promise.
He wraps his arm around my chest, pulling me into his. My back is arched uncomfortably, but he fills me up so good from this angle I wouldn’t dare complain.
I reach a hand above my head and lace my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him into my neck.
“Fuck me like I’m your favorite toy,” I whisper, and he does. Pushing me down into the dirt, inches away from an infected body.
I lick my lips, an evil smile spreading across my face. Fuck. Death makes me so horny.
Indy’s cries ring out above the song playing, fueling my fire even more. Tension builds in my stomach, and I can feel my body reaching for its release.
“Devil, keep going,” I pant, not wanting this feeling to escape me.
“As you wish, mon chérie.” His thrusts turn more brutal, his grip so tight that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
Bodies fall around us as The Doctor drops his slacks on stage, pounding into his new deathbringer. The sight has me feral. I really do love watching.
“Such a dirty slut, watching, as you’re being fucked like the dirty whore you are,” the masked man growls into me. His realistic horns bump into me from behind.
My body crumbles, falling over the edge as my vision goes white. His touch is demanding as he searches for his release.
It comes seconds later as his warm seed spills into me. My vision is blurry as I watch the end of the Rite, Indy and The Doctor, rising to their feet.
“You did so good for me, pretty girl,” he whispers, wrapping me into his arms.
We sit there, watching, as The Doctor and The Deathbringer step into their future. Hope blooms in my stomach as I imagine myself on that stage, shadowed by my own masked man.
Hallow Lands will never be the same after tonight.
And next year I plan to bring my own chaos.
The End…For Now
