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The Hunter Between	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6166 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
            Lust, most religious sorts tell us, is one of the gravest of sins...the sin currently on my mind. Kormac...asked me to purify him...his fear and failure to overcome it has been the core of what has been eating away at him... How could I not agree to help him recover from that?...not as pure a soul as he thinks me to be.
            I lust now...lost myself in chaos...cycle would destroy me from within. Nephalem are part angel and part demon... very concerned that I will become worse...some shades of gray are so dark...black. I am afraid of becoming the very thing I hunt...no clue how to turn that fear into hatred...
            In aiding Kormac with the whip...his screams excited me...hurting him, causing him to bleed, seeing him bound and at my mercy...hearing him scream for me even if muffled, it was the same thrill and addiction I have for hunting my prey. ...if I see Kormac as prey or not... I want to make him scream for me again, I want impossible things, things that the templar will denounce as pure sin. He would never let me do any of them...
            That's why I enjoyed it. He wanted to be hurt...why should it be such a...pull...to hurt someone that wants to be hurt? Maybe...it's just him...the extended companionship has given me something...I chose to abandon and cast aside...it maybe I've been ignoring my own baser needs... Living day to day with nothing but hatred and discipline to control it...
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            Blackness claimed him. Yet even within the senseless dark, he knew he was in pain. It was a constant throb as he drifted in and out of awareness. Every time there was a misstep or shift, it jolted him back just in time to enjoy the raw sensations of his beating. The brief kiss of unconsciousness became a pleasant interlude he actually found himself wishing would hold onto him completely rather than torment him with brief respite. At least it made time pass faster.
            One moment, a street with clouds of sand and dirt rising from a destroyed alley crumbling behind them. A powerful arm around his middle, pressing on a broken rib and making sharp bone dig into his lung. The mixed agony and relief that he had once again slipped free of a fate worse than the death it would lead to. Then darkness.
            Next moment, he jerked as someone yelped in pain. It took a moment to realize it was his own voice and he was on his knees. A split second of despair and fear hit him--he had only imagined being rescued! He was still in the alley with arms trapped. But no, only one arm was caught and it came to rest too high. There was an arm going around his waist again to lift him up and his pain-fogged brain made the connection. Stairs, he must have tripped and nearly fell out of her grip. Blackness consumed him.
            Then again, pain brought him back to life as his body struck the ground--no, not ground. It was too soft despite how much the landing hurt. Forcing his good eye open, he managed to make out walls and furniture. A bed. A lamp. A shadow that rose from the nothingness to hover over him. Tensing despite his injuries, he froze as a pained hiss escaped bloody and split lips. He struggled to relax but his body remained locked up in the throes of renewed pain. All he could do was ride it out.
            Crimson suddenly flared within the shadow's rough outline. Eyes that burned into the swollen slit of his own, stabbed through him and made the pain seem like nothing. Hunger burned there, something vicious and spiteful, hate-filled and mad. The demon swooped down and he could not help but jerk. It tore a pained cry from his throat and made his body jerk as if caught in a spasm.
            Light from the lamp near the bed poured over the demon as it followed him and the horridly burned flesh stood stark against...against...lightly tanned skin. A face he knew. A face he had helped tend. The demon hunter materialized from the nightmare as she reached out to press something cold against the eye that was swollen shut. It was like a trigger that snapped the strings keeping his body rigid. Darkness threatened his minimal vision as he sagged backward.
            Blinking, he managed to look back at her--but time tricked him. His other eye was able to open slightly. He lay on the bed, half stripped. Gloved hands moved with cautious intent to unfasten his shirt. They came to guide him up to pull it off one arm and pain flared again. Groaning, he was not so far gone he missed it. A flare of crimson hunger, of madness. It was a foreboding light in her demonic-hued eyes.
            Suddenly, it occurred to him something was wrong. He remembered this. Like a dream becoming reality, or reality that had been lost to a dream. And as he lay there...he remembered the painful crush of her mouth upon his in the alley. He felt the heat and the fierce hunger. He remembered the spark of shock and pleasure that was all but drown beneath the agony of his body.
            His jaw was stiff and mouth sore from the cuts caused by his teeth. Although he started to speak, when she turned to the table to reach for the cold cloth again, he caught her arm. She paused and looked at him. He forgot what he was about to say when he saw the struggle in those crimson-kissed eyes. They flickered between ruby and gold, light fading slightly between surges of...gods knew what. She was fighting something inside. That was all that seemed to matter. And...it made his heart skip a beat. She was fighting for him.
            It was hardly the first time she had saved his neck. In fact, the first time she had fought for him had been when he met her. He had been unable to keep track of how many times her arrows had kept his hide intact. For a split second, he remembered cold water and hot air in a moonlit oasis. The hunger in her actions paled in comparison to what he saw in her eyes now. Yet, she held back. She turned away--as she had in the alley. She had been ready to kill, to murder, to protect him.
            A small voice in the back of his mind raised a note of alarm, but it was too late. Pushing himself up caused the injuries the thugs inflicted to burn anew. When her arm rose and hand went to his shoulder to restrain him, he used it to yank himself up. This time he claimed her mouth with his. She went as hard as stone against him as his other arm caught around her waist to keep himself upright.
            Cuts stung anew and blood made their lips slide together. Hers parted for a sharp breath that brought a new sensation of rawness to his lips. She pulled back and he made a pained sound into her open mouth. That was all it took. What he had experienced before paled in comparison as her free hand caught the unbound locks of his hair to wrench his head back and trap him. Her mouth devoured his as her teeth re-opened the cuts on his lips and her tongue thrust past them to claim his.
            Barely able to draw a sharp breath in through his nose as the pain surged, he found no desire to fight. Instead, he surrendered the pain to her as she shoved him back down onto the bed. Her weight bore down on his chest and made cracked and broken ribs shift. She drank his scream down without hesitation as the bed dipped. It was her weight that made it shift beneath him as she crawled onto it to straddle his legs.
            ...his screams excited me...
            Her voice whispered the words into his mind as if she were confessing something locked deep within her own personal darkness. Rather than frighten him, it enflamed the sudden desire as her hands moved over his chest. Cloth tore harshly as she ripped his shirt off him. It brought another cry of pain. She bit down on his lower lip hard enough to make the cuts bleed harder before taking his mouth again.
            ...hurting him, causing him to bleed, seeing him bound and at my mercy...
            Suddenly, his arms were over his head, bound to the bed's frame as her gloved hands raked down his sides. Even with the leather preventing her fingernails from scratching, he felt the harsh trails as keenly as if her hands were bare. Twisting against his will, he struggled under her, caught in the agony of his body and the pain her cruel explorations brought. Yet, for every agony, there was pleasure as her hips ground down against his and her body writhed in the grasp of her own desire.
            I lust now...Nephalem are part angel and part demon...
            Certainly it was the demon that had him snared within her grasp as her thighs trapped his hips and pinned him to the bed. Struggle as he might, he was trapped. Her mouth grew softer against his as the harshness of her motions slackened then eased completely. Trembling, panting harshly, he finally sagged back to the bed. Muscles continued to spasm and jerk but could no longer remain fully tense. She drew back and he could gasp for air.
            ...I want to make him scream for me again...
            Looking up at her, he went as still as he could. Her eyes burned solid crimson. The pupils were gold, not black. Still, he saw the struggle within them. The hunger...brought an involuntary shiver that sent another wave of pain through his body. Catching a sharp breath, he tensed and waited. She waited. But even as he started to relax, he saw the surge of flame in her eyes as she...fed off the pain. And he released the strangled groan he had choked back.
            ...maybe I've been ignoring my own baser needs...
            She leaned down. His lips felt raw as his own breath rushed over them. For a moment, he both dreaded and desired the cruel crush of her mouth. But when her lips found his, they were gentle. Even the slightest brush of flesh made his sting and throb then feel so sensitive. Involuntarily, his tongue darted out over their lips. He tasted blood...and barely managed to avoid a shiver as a new sensation gripped him.
            Gazing into those burning eyes, he saw her. He saw the woman, the hunter, the wolf...still in control. And he felt...weak. It made him shiver at the incredibly vulnerable feeling. He knew her strength, he felt it even then in the way her thighs held his hips immobile. There was the way she could maneuver him into position, manipulate his body so easily, without breaking a sweat. And this power she had over him...dominating every aspect of their tryst in the oasis, showing him how...pale a glimpse it had been.
            Powerless. He understood the feeling finally. And it stunned him as he realized how completely their roles had been reversed. Now he had his first true example of how a woman must feel beneath a man. And where it was frightening, the throb of his cock did not allow him to deny it was turning him on regardless of the pain. Then again, he had never found pain to fuel desire. Not until...her.
            His thoughts were shattered when she moved. One hand braced her weight against his chest but her palm pressed down above the injuries. It caused his breath to be more constricted but did little more than make his sides throb as ribs protested the pressure. He barely dared breathe as he waited, wondering. Slowly, his fingers curled in toward his palms as he settled his arms more comfortably so the bindings would not bite into his wrists.
            "...give me your pain, your agony...your pleasure...give yourself to me..."
            The words were half breathed near his ear so they seared his flesh with the heavy heat, and half growled in that fire-roughened voice that was still so rich and fluid. A shudder gripped him and her hips moved to grind her armor-covered groin against his. The metal was hard but smooth so it added to the friction making his still-trapped cock throb harder. Gasping, he could not help but arch his upper body slightly. Pain surged.
            "...surrender...all that you are...all that you have...all that you will be...give yourself to me..."
            If her body had not already begun to drive him insane with the confusion between pain and pleasure, her voice and words would have. There was something...something he could not pin down. But he wanted it. He feared it. But he wanted it.
            "...submit..."
            Rising to her knees, her hands slid down along his body. One pressed against the broken rib and he twisted away with a panting cry. The other slid down to his pants. He barely felt the sharp tug on his belt as his eyes involuntarily closed. Time slipped away again, because when he looked at her next, she had stripped him completely. And she had removed her own armor. Both eyes managed to open and permitted him a clear view of the body he had not seen fully exposed since...
            She was as he remembered. Her form was still that mix of female and muscle he had beheld on that oasis night. The tan of her skin was no longer...uniform. Where her face was burned in a nightmarish mix of red and white with traces of yellow as tissue gradually repaired and rebuilt itself, the burns splattered over her chest held hints of brownish black where old blood had scabbed beneath the abuse of her armor.
            It was a tableau of beauty and horror...and he could not stop following the demonic blemishes with his eyes. As the dark bra slipped and slid away, he saw that one of those gravity defying breasts had been forever tainted by what would be a horrible scar when fully healed. He had seen and treated the burns along her waist, hip and thigh, but it was the first time she had revealed the entirety of the damage to him.
            "Please," he heard himself say, even if it was still badly slurred.
            One of her hands moved up to caress the side of his face. The throb of tormented flesh did not stop him from tilting his head to press his battered cheek into her bare palm. His breath caught as she leaned forward and guided his head upward. When she began to guide him to the unflawed breast, he struggled to pull away. Surprise crossed her half-healed face. Turning his head, pulling against the grip she had taken on his hair, he strained against his bound arms toward the burn-marked breast.
            Nothing else was said, but her sharp gasp and nearly pained moan as he carefully took the tender flesh into his mouth was reward enough. Already he felt the moist heat building between her legs where she hovered just out of reach of his body. He kept his teeth covered so only his lips and tongue touched her skin. It was a metallic taste laced with...leather and herbs. Whether his blood or hers resting too close the thin barrier of healing flesh, he did not care. He could still taste her beneath the bitterness of hellfire.
            Suddenly, she was fully on top of him, forcing his body back against the bed so he cried out. He could not tell if it hurt or felt good as she ground her mound against the base of his cock, letting the rougher skin of an older burn injury torment his length when she rocked. His chest was on fire, pulsing like a giant heartbeat as his broken bones ground together. But his shaft was weeping and throbbing with need, smearing drops of pre-cum over her abdomen and hip.
            Her teeth found the side of his neck as she jerked his head back until her fist hit the bed. It made him arch his neck at an uncomfortable angle. Only the hard press of her breasts against his chest as the burns caught on his own firming nipples to tease seemed to make the pain bearable. When her teeth left his ear, her grip eased and he caught a harsh breath--which was lost when his cock was taken into a wet inferno as she impaled herself down to the root before her sex clenched around him so tight it brought a scream from his lips.
            It was not about pleasure or pain, they were one and the same. All he knew was the sensations. She was not gentle, nor was she cruel. His body jerked and thrashed every time she moved as he lost control over his reactions. Panting, gasping, he stopped worrying about keeping quiet. Every sound he made brought something more for him to feel, pulling and thrusting him higher toward something he both feared and needed.
            The harsh breaths roared in his ears and made his skin sting beneath the heat. Every time she moved, he was lost in the tight heat, the crushing pull milking him. Her breasts swayed and bounced from the harshness of her motions as she sat back to ride him while watching him struggle. When he dared meet those burning eyes, all he saw was hunger, lust, desire...and that powerful thing that made something deep inside him tremble like a leaf in a storm.
            Unexpectedly, she shoved him up along the bed so his head and shoulders met the pillows. It allowed his bound arms some slack as his elbows bent. Free, and somehow more prisoner than ever as his arms were forced against his chest, he instinctively parted his legs to try and gain some leverage. His arms jolted his ribs, causing his vision to explode into white and black briefly as his head fell back against the head rail.
            When time again abandoned him for a moment, he found himself coming back to a new sensation. Even as she tightened around his cock, plunging herself up and down on it faster and harder as she drew nearer her peak, her free arm was behind her. She pulled his head back to her scarred breast with ease thanks to the new position. As he opened his mouth to take her in, something slick and cool suddenly pressed into him.
            Eyes going wide, he forgot to even breathe for a split second as her finger pressed harder against his tight entrance. Clenching instinctively, he tensed. Pain erupted through his body again only to blend into pleasure. Then her finger breached him with a smooth thrust. The burn was minimal compared to the new sensation of being invaded. Utterly still and breathless, he stared up at her as her finger worked deeper with a single-minded determination.
            Just as he began to grasp what was happening, she touched something inside him. White exploded within his vision as the touch sent him into euphoria. Nothing escaped him although his mouth hung open. All he could do was gasp and pant like a drowning man. His hips bucked upward, body forgetting the involuntary attempts to escape pain, only wanting that sensation again as he drove up to meet her thrusts.
            She toyed with him only briefly. Purposely avoiding that spot, then caressing and massaging it until all he knew was pleasure exploding within his body and the hot grip milking his release from him. Unable to get his breath, he surrendered to the darkness rising up to enfold him in an embrace which promised to last. Even as he fell into it, he heard her voice breathe into his ear...
            "You are mine now, Lyndon...forever..."
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            Lyndon came awake with a gasp that left his head spinning. Bolting upright, he almost tumbled into the fire before catching himself. Sitting half on and half off his bedroll, his wide eyes darted around as he tried to catch his breath. There was no bed. There was no room. There were only dark trees around the campsite and a hint of stars visible through the canopy overhead. Across the fire were other bedrolls, his companions still slept. One of the spots was empty but it hardly seemed important.
            Calming himself down as reality took place of the dream, the scoundrel brought one hand up to scrub his face. The other bumped something that had fallen over the ankle sticking out from under the blanket. Looking down, he reached out to pick the journal up and get it further away from the fire. Righting the book, he glanced at the handwriting within. Memory returned. He had been reading it again. He must have fallen asleep.
            Setting Shandra's book near his pack, Lyndon found that there was another problem. Even if it had all been a dream, turning to put the journal away caused his pants to tug across his very hard, very erect member. Gasping--far more quietly than he had on waking--he quickly stilled and tried to adjust himself. It was nearly impossible as the moment he touched himself, he felt the dampness through his pants.
            All he could think about as he sat there, trying to keep from waking the others up, was the dream. None of that had happened in Caldeum. Where had all of that come from? Especially that last part. He had never...but it had felt good...and he should have had no clue about that. Shandra was not even there. She had been gone for days. So what had triggered the dream?

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Author's Note:

            Thank you for the review, Chronic. Unfortunately, I am quite familiar with FF.net and while I still have an account there, I utterly refuse to return there. I cannot stand the complete inability to format my chapters in any means as AFF allows me to do. Plus, I got utterly fed up with my stories--which were very clean and quite vanilla about sex 10 years ago--being deleted even with proper maturity ratings while other people had far worse smut and their fics are still permitted and archived on FF.net. So I'm afraid for now this is where my works will remain.

            And everyone, please feel free to comment. This chapter had--and still has--me feeling a little insecure as to whether it makes sense or not. I seriously do need feedback to help creative juices flow like this! Otherwise I might wind up just hiding under my bed for the rest of my life and never continue...
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The Hunter Between