Chapter Text
The man in the fox mask – Ghost , she reminded herself – bolted the door to the boathouse behind them. Then, as if remembering they were in a horror movie and a killer was chasing them, chasing her , he shoved a stack of weather-warped crates against it. They groaned under their own weight, the sound quickly swallowed by the thick, humid air.
Ghost turned to her with a lopsided grin, crooked and cunning.
“Sooo… you chose the guy with the knife to protect you?” he asked, voice light and almost teasing as he twirled the blade between his fingers.
Rin flinched at the sound of his voice. Loud, he was being much too loud, and too casual. “Shhh!” she hissed, darting a glance toward the cracked, grime-streaked windows, taking in every movement, every shadow, each one with the potential to be Mike’s hulking form.
The last thing she wanted was to be caged by those arms again, have that wolf mask looming above her, eyes void of emotion. Have him lower his face to her neck, unsure if he was going to smell, to lick, to bite… unsure if a kiss was buying time for her friends or selling her soul.
“You know,” Ghost said again with an almost sing-song lilt to his voice, stepping towards her, “you were running your mouth a lot out there for someone who thinks she needs to be protected. I wonder where the Dark One would start if he caught you…”
Rin tensed as the flat of the knife traced her arm, playful and predatory all at once, feeling an echo of the cold steel slide along her bones.
She should’ve been scared… well, more scared than she was, anyway. But, unlike Mike, Ghost seemed eager to talk, could hold a conversation. She wasn’t going to get ahead of herself and assume it indicated humanity or empathy, but maybe, just maybe, she could use that…
“Are you going to kill me now, or…?” she asked, trying to sound braver than she felt, but her voice betrayed her, cracking. Rin eased backwards, step by step, the man in the fox mask following, until her shoulders met the rotting wood of the wall behind her.
Ghost didn’t answer right away. He stepped closer, caging her in, the blade lazily dancing down the front of her body. And when he leaned in, his breath fanning over her neck, she drank in his warmth, breathed in his scent – smoke and blood and something darker.
“I think the real question,” he whispered, voice soft and razor sharp, “is, am I going to kill you… or is there something else we could do to pass the time? Your choice, little devil.”
The tip of his blade snagged on the cheap fabric of her leggings.
Rin’s heart pounded like it was trying to break free of her chest.
Leather’s heavy footfalls echoed in her memory, his chainsaw grinding through the trees as she ran. Jay, with that unsettling smile, all wide-eyed innocence masking the violence within. Mike’s soulless stare as he tilted his head, like he couldn’t quite decide what part of her to hack into first.
And then… Ghost.
All smiles and threats, yet flirting like he was playing a game he knew he couldn’t possibly lose.
What little she could see of his face – sharp jaw, smirking mouth, storm-grey eyes – was handsome in a way that made her want him to ruin her. The way he moved, the way his lean frame filled out his dark hoodie, made her blood run hot. She imagined those arms braced above her, lips dragging down her neck. She imagined how his hips would feel slotted between her legs. Tall and lean was her type … not to mention his attitude and that voice .
She was so screwed.
“Kiss me,” she said, testing the waters, unsure if she was trying to seduce or surrender.
“ Just a kiss?” He tilted his head, sounding disappointed, then sighed. “You’re no fun.”
But still, he reached for her, and she steeled herself.
His hand found her throat first, surprisingly gentle, moving to cup her chin, his thumb grazing her jaw, then her bottom lip. “Are you scared?” he whispered, eyes shining behind his mask.
Of course she was. She and her friends were being hunted in the woods by madmen resembling the villains of classic slasher flicks. And she was trapped in a boathouse with one of them.
“No,” she said, holding her chin high, meeting his gaze.
“You’re a terrible liar.” He grinned, then leaned in and ran his tongue along her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.
A shiver crawled down her spine as the cool metal of his tongue piercing dragged against her skin. She imagined what it might feel like against her tongue. Against…
She whined, her core clenching around nothing.
“What if he walked in right now?” Ghost mused aloud, pressing closer. He was warm, and firm, and she was suddenly reminded of how long it had been since she’d been this close, this intimate, with someone. His tongue traced her jaw, his breath a wicked promise in her ear. “What if he didn’t want to kill you? What if he wanted to watch us? Or touch you? Or maybe… join in ?”
He licked her earlobe, then took it gently between his teeth. A whimper escaped her.
“ Your mouth is running a lot for someone trying to put the moves on me,” she managed, voice shaky, but still teasing, trying to ignore the way every touch lit her skin on fire, trying to ignore the rush of fluid between her legs. She wasn’t going to let him win so easily.
“Ah, see, unfortunately , most of my foreplay involves sexting. It’s a bit hard to ask for nudes when I’m low on signal… and high on murder vibes.” He began sucking a mark onto her neck. “So… I do what I can.”
She arched into him slightly, biting back the urge to whine. “Unfortunately? What’s better than a warm body, ready and willing?”
That pulled him up short, a wicked grin on his face at the word ‘willing.’ Then, his body went still, tense. He turned his head toward the door.
Rin held her breath. The silence outside stretched, broken only by the whisper of wind through the lake grass. Still, her muscles coiled, ready to bolt.
“Be quiet,” he hissed, his voice suddenly darker. “You’re going to get us caught. And when he catches you, he’s not going to kiss you. He’s going to kill you and wear your skin like a raincoat.”
She swallowed hard. It was risky, but what if…
“What if he already has?” she whispered, leaning closer so he could feel her breath on his neck, pressing herself against his chest.
His eyes narrowed, snapping back to her. “He what ?”
There it was. Jealousy . She thought she’d sensed it among them when they were bickering outside. Maybe she could take advantage of that.
She licked her lips. “What if he already caught me? Already… kissed me?”
Ghost was silent, grey eyes swirling with fury.
“I had to distract him. For my friends,” she explained, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
The knife reappeared, glinting in the faint bit of moonlight that filtered through the windows. This time, he slid it slowly between her legs.
Rin gasped, thighs locking around the blade on instinct, and he grinned.
“Well,” he said, voice low, “it can’t have been that good, right?” He cocked his head, looking down at her.
She flushed. “It was. I mean… it was pretty good.”
“Wrong answer.” The knife slid higher.
“I didn’t have you to compare it to,” she rushed the words out, breathless.
He pushed her back against the wall, pinning her, his forearm across her chest. “You’re quite feisty, aren't you, little devil? Aren’t you scared?”
Was this part of the game, did he want her to admit she was scared? Not admitting it had worked in her favor earlier, so…
She tried to get the words out, to challenge him by taunting, what makes you think I’m scared? But it died in her throat when she saw the way he was looking at her.
“Why are you smiling?” She asked instead.
“I’m smiling,” he said, voice husky, “because for all your fear, I think you’re more turned on. I think you like this.” He pressed her a little harder into the wall.
“If you know I’m turned on,” her voice fell to a whisper, “then why aren’t you doing something about it?”
He removed the knife from between her thighs, turning it over in his hand to grip the blade. “Maybe I like watching you fall apart.”
He slipped the handle between her thighs this time, teasing the heat pooled there. “Maybe I want to see what it takes to really make you beg .”
She whimpered, biting her lip to keep from crying out.
“Or maybe…” His hand gripped her chin, tilting it up. “You’re just talking too damn much.”
“And you know exactly how to shut me up,” she whispered, eyes locked on his.
"Hmmm..." His voice was almost lazy now, a low growl as he brushed his thumb over her lip again. "This had better be good, because I’ve got plenty to compare you to, little devil. And if you don’t measure up...”
He tapped the outside of her thigh with the flat of his blade, and she shivered.
There was something about how good that cold kiss of metal felt. How her body responded to it, traitorous and aching. Her breath caught, chest rising in anticipation as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
It wasn’t rushed. There was no desperation in it, only intent.
His mouth was warm, lips surprisingly soft, and he kissed her like he wanted to memorize her taste. She mirrored him, lips parting, coaxing him in. When she caught his bottom lip and gently pulled, he rewarded her with a low hum of approval.
Then his tongue swept in, claiming her, tasting of licorice and salt and the faintest hint of copper. The piercing pressed against her tongue, cool and smooth and sinful . It clicked against a tooth, dragged over the roof of her mouth like he was exploring the textures of her, mapping her with every stroke. Her back arched from the wall, and she felt him slide the knife between her thighs again, higher than before.
She recoiled, expecting the blade, but he chased her movements, and she felt the cool, smooth metal of the handle press firmly against her core again, teasing. She moaned at the sensation, at the pressure, allowing herself to slowly grind against it.
Rin broke the kiss with a gasp, turning her face to drag in air. Or maybe sanity. She could do with either, right now.
“That’s right, little devil,” he purred, continuing to rub the handle of his knife against her in sync with her movements, his knuckles brushing her thighs. “Everytime I hold this knife, I want to remember this moment, how you move, how you sound, how you feel…” His grip on the knife shifted again, this time to press his fingertips to the wet, ruined fabric of her leggings, clinging damp and tight to her skin.
“So wet , little devil, so wanting ,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to hers and rubbing his fingers against her. “It’s almost like you want my other knife… and by that I mean my dick, in case it wasn’t obvious.”
Rin couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her mouth, the smile that graced her lips. And she suddenly had the urge to touch him, too. She lifted the edge of his shirt, her fingers skating over lean muscle, tight and firm. He was all sinew and tension, like a coiled snake, and she was his prey.
Her thoughts spiraled again, imagining what it would feel like to straddle him, to feel him inside her, deep and… Her hands drifted lower, tracing the V of his hips, fingers searching…
He sank his teeth into her neck, just enough to make her yelp, then laughed, wicked and wild, before soothing the bite with a swipe of his tongue, the metal pressing against her pulse. He left his mark, again and again, like she was his canvas. His territory.
The knife vanished, and his knee replaced it, pressing between her legs, nudging upward. She cried out softly, grinding against him. Friction sparked, too much, and not enough, all at once. She needed him closer…
Her hands clawed for purchase, dragging down his back, trying to pull him into herself as he lifted her like she weighed nothing, slamming his hips against hers with a force that knocked the breath from her. She could feel him now, hard and throbbing against her thigh. She reached down, desperate to touch him, fingers curling around the thick length beneath his jeans, stroking through the denim as he ground into her.
He groaned, pounding harder, the old boathouse wall rattling behind her with each thrust.
“Wait,” she gasped, her other hand tangling in his hair, tugging him away from her neck.
“What, little devil?” he said playfully, scraping her skin with his teeth, “don’t tell me this is too much for you?”
“I... I think we’re being too loud,” she said, breathless, her voice light and airy.
He grinned, all teeth and mischief. With a low growl, he lifted her again, and she took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist. He carried her across the room, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his boots.
Ghost set her down, settling over her, and the air between them sparked like static.
“Good girl,” he purred, pushing his hips down against hers, grinding deep, kissing her again.
The praise shouldn’t have thrilled her the way it did.
She arched, hungry for more, reaching under his shirt again, nails dragging along his skin. He flinched, shivered, then retaliated, lifting her shirt and palming both breasts beneath her bra. His hands were calloused but careful, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they peaked.
There was too much fabric between them. Too much restraint. Too much wetness between her legs. She couldn’t take it.
She broke the kiss, gasping, “Please. Please touch me.”
He chuckled, lifting her shirt higher. His tongue dragged over one nipple, the cold metal of his piercing sending lightning through her.
“So needy,” he murmured against her skin. “Where would the little devil like me to touch her?”
He sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth and she cried out. His hand clamped over her lips instantly.
“If you can’t be quiet,” he whispered, dark amusement dancing in his eyes, “you’ll have to show me.”
Then he pulled back, grinning, and gestured again with the knife, like a stage magician daring her into a trick.
She froze. Not with fear. With embarrassment. With vulnerability. She’d touched herself before, but not like this. Not for someone.
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Go on. Don’t be shy.” He gestured with the knife again.
Swallowing her nerves, she slipped her hand into her leggings. He watched her with what could only be hunger in his eyes. She was wet, so wet, and she moaned softly as her fingers moved instinctively, finding her clit, slowly circling as her eyes stayed locked on his.
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, giving her a glimpse of that sinful tongue piercing again, before biting down on his lip, his breathing heavier now. His belt came undone, jeans sliding low, hand wrapped tight around himself, stroking.
She couldn’t look away, mesmerized.
He groaned, low, filled with needs. Then reached for her, tugging her leggings down to her knees. When his fingers found her, they were gentle, testing what made her breath hitch, what made her hips writhe, sliding into her with delicious pressure while his thumb resumed teasing her clit.
She moaned, hips bucking into his hand.
And he pulled away.
She whimpered in protest, only for him to grab her hand and press it around his cock. She felt the wet heat of her own slick on his skin. The way her body reacted to that image alone had her clenching again.
He squeezed her hand tighter around him, guiding her at first, then letting go with a sigh.
She stroked him, slowly at first, marveling at the feel of him, so warm and hard in her hand, then faster, trying to match the rhythm of his fingers when he finally resumed. Two fingers inside her, curling, thrusting, thumb stroking in time. Her body tightened, her nerves tingling with pleasure.
She wrapped her other hand around him, squeezing hard and slow at the base, her hand at the tip moving faster, thumb positioned just below the head. He groaned, hips bucking into her as he spilled hot and sudden across her wrists and the wooden floorboards.
His moan was long, unrestrained. He kissed her like he meant to consume her, like she was the air he needed to keep from drowning.
And when his hand didn’t stop, when he kept that maddening, feather-light touch on her clit, her own orgasm broke through her like a dam breaking. She arched, trembling, moaning into his mouth as he swallowed every sound.
Only when her hips stilled did he pull back, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth once more.
She collapsed, panting heavily, her skin flushed, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Her limbs felt heavy, useless. Hopefully Mike didn’t choose this moment to find them. To find her . She wouldn’t be able to move, let alone run.
Ghost smirked, taking her in, leaning forward to drag his tongue along her jaw once more, as though he couldn’t get enough of the way she tasted. “Such a high school thing I never had the pleasure of experiencing,” he laughed softly, shaking his head, “but enjoyable, all the same.”
“Glad I could help,” she said, still trying to catch her breath.
He hovered over her for a moment, the smirk fading into something quieter, more thoughtful. She wanted to ask what he was thinking, but didn’t dare. Not now.
The charge that had been in the air around them had changed, faded to something quieter, softer, as strange as that felt. And that was almost more terrifying.
For a moment, she didn’t see a murderer, or a villain, or a threat, she just saw… a guy. One she’d just hooked up with, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he watched her from behind his mask.
He helped tug her leggings back up with surprising gentleness. He didn’t speak, didn’t gloat or tease. Just tucked her shirt down, smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear, and adjusted himself and belted his pants before collapsing beside her on the floor with a sigh that was almost… human.
Neither of them said a word.
Rin turned toward him, and he rolled onto his side, one hand propping up his head. His mask was on, still pushed partway up to reveal his chin and the curve of his mouth. At this distance, his eyes were shadowed and unreadable in the low light of the moon. She watched him, waiting for the grin, the flash of danger.
“What?” He tilted his head curiously, watching her.
“I didn’t expect you to be…” She trailed off. What was the word?
Gentle? Sweet?
“Not a complete monster?” he offered.
“I was going to say kind,” she said, blushing.
He blinked. Laughed once, short and sharp. “That’s a new one.”
He folded his legs under himself before springing to his feet. “Just do me a favor and don’t tell the others, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” He winked, then collected his knife, standing over her.
She froze, every muscle tense, looking up at him, trying to see past the fox mask, past the act, wanting to ask him something stupid, something reckless.
Are you done playing with me? Are you going to kill me now? Or are you going to wait till later?
“Hey,” he said, not unkindly, “Cheer up. You’re just got off, and you’re still alive.”
“For how long, though?” Her throat was tight. “Did I really make it to the end of this story? Or did I just pick the lesser evil?”
That grin came back, a touch bittersweet now. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”