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La Manchaland hasn’t exactly been the same since the first kindred’s demise. On the surface level, it seemed just fine - an amusement park by bloodfiends in service of humans - but the rules had changed. Its flow and purpose were lost to time.
The original dream, the original intent to operate out of pure happiness, wasn’t going to cut it anymore. Sancho knew as such, and determined that her father was too delusional to be running the business. With him slain, and her as Manager, she could give the kindred what they needed all along.
Food. Sustenance. Satisfaction.
So it was that the amusement park became a death trap. All of the attractions and festivities would continue service, but they were laid out as bait. Should a human guest get too intertwined with the dance of the bloodfiends, they would never return home. Their family would carry the baggage of a disappearance, taken too soon.
Though sometimes, even that wasn’t good enough. Every single staff member felt a thirst, and quenching it was no easy task. Prey came at irregular intervals, sometimes much too slowly. The collective patience would be worn too thin, and the jobs that each individual was tasked with would be strained.
And so, Sancho came with another compromise. Every once in a while, when the stars gleamed brightly against the sky surrounding the City, she would prepare a feast. But not a home-driven buffet, oh no. The kindred would gather their strength, leave the park they tended to, and hunt for fresh sources of blood.
She was selective with her targets, however. Although her family could easily prey on unsuspecting innocent lives, she wanted to direct their malice towards people who truly deserved it. Their world was bloated with such despicable subjects to feed on, and justice was an excellent condiment for blood. If there was anything from her father she still believed in, it was his insistence of fixers fighting for heroic causes.
Tonight, the air around Sancho was thick with smoke. Although she often chained herself to her duties, she wasn’t unaware of what was going on outside. The sight and stench of this dark smog was strong enough for her to decide on the latest hit.
The people who she surely believed were behind it had somewhat similar goals. They would gather, plan, and hunt. But unlike her, they were targeting innocent souls. Anyone who had a sort of machine installed in their body, no matter what else they did with their life, was to be considered prey.
By committing what they believed to be righteous, they were opening themselves up for a truly right action by her hands. And so, she was quick to round up her family for the announcement.
“Surely, you all see it. The hallmarks of a town being razed to the ground, as we speak. There is not a shadow of doubt, those rampaging inquisitors have found more subjects to purge. We shall return the favor in kind.”
- - -
Another day, another cleansing of filth. What used to be unholy creatures of flesh and steel, now were charred and bloody corpses. The structures that they called home, swallowed by flames until nothing remained but ash.
With an audible “tuuh!”, one of the discarded amalgamations of visceral metal also mixed in a smidge of saliva.
“Disgusting.”
It was questionable whether or not Sinclair believed in that word. It could be argued that his hatred of prosthetics had genuine legs to stand on, for his own family had indulged in that trend. But the look in his eyes told of a different story, perhaps some tiny portion of him which still saw a living, breathing person underneath that hunk of scrap.
Either way, the execution was of resounding success. There was nothing left in this patch of the woods for him to eradicate. He watched, with a firm glare hidden by shadow, as the bright orange embers flew out into the darkness above, tinting the surrounding air with a blood red.
At least, he thought that was the reason why the air had such a solemn coloration. There was something else in the immediate vicinity which neither he or his men had any heed for, nor had any preparation to deal with.
The filth were helpless rabbits. The inquisitors were ruthless snakes. The bloodfiends were looming hawks.
Manifestations of hardblood were quick to scatter and disorient Sinclair’s men. Such arcane powers were much beyond the conflicts they were trained to handle. One by one, those who sought salvation from the One Who Shall Grip dropped to the ground like swatted flies. Their collapsed bodies soon met with savage teeth, transforming them into a different sort of mindless husk.
The leader himself, though, was not immediately wiped out. With intent, he was saved for last. Though initially panicked at the unfortunate plight of his men, he gave himself just enough of a clear head to see exactly what had interrupted his ceremony.
They… didn’t have any prosthetics? They… were human? Why… were they angry with him?
He couldn’t give himself much time to think it over, instead raising his halberd in his hasty attempt to stand up against the woman now standing in front of him, glaring into him with scarlet eyes.
She didn’t have any armor on, and she was even shorter than him… how in the hell was she putting up such an intimidating show of power?
“You… y-you bitch…” Sinclair wasn’t one to talk lightly after everything her relatives did to his men. “You’re not even the filth I’m looking for. Get out of my way.”
Sancho didn’t hesitate to retort, her expression and tone staying low yet possessing a sort of mockery.
“Ah, but I was looking for you. I might have made a mess, though my intent should shine through… justice is being served.”
Before Sinclair could even think of swinging his weapon, Sancho darted out of his sight in the blink of an eye, far faster than any human reflexes could normally provide. Panic overtook him just as quickly, his head rapidly darting around to find any trace of his enem-
Whack.
Thud.
It was funny how much preparation Sinclair put into these trips. Durable armor, imposing halberd, loyal men. All Sancho had to do was throw her fist at him. He wasn’t even given a moment to comprehend that, for the strike had knocked him unconscious.
That fist of hers soon opened up into a palm, in her efforts to stop her fellow bloodfiends from rushing to his location.
“Halt. This one shall not be discarded easily. I am certain he is their leader. Let me handle him.”
- - -
Oh, how Sinclair wished he would be in his superior’s arms when he woke up. He did the deed, he wanted the reward. But as he opened his eyes, he was quick to recognize that the apple of his eye wasn’t here, and he wasn’t even at his home base. It was a dungeon carved of stone, with a crimson carpet spread across the floor, and similarly tinted decorations against the walls.
More of that color, a crystallized form of blood, was what had his arms locked up tight.
He could only watch with scorn as an only barely familiar figure emerged from the door in front of him. It was the same woman who had effortlessly beaten him to the ground just moments earlier, albeit approaching him at a much slower pace.
Although, now that he wasn’t caught up in the heat of battle, he could get an idea of just how elegant she looked. A long uneven flow of bright yellow hair, complimenting a fashionable set of clothing, wrapped with a scarlet boa, and topped off with a thorny crown. Was she some sort of royalty? Was that why she didn’t need any armor when dealing with him?
But regardless, the way that she and her followers callously disposed of his men earned his contempt. He hung his head low, but not enough to obscure the resentful gleam in his eyes, tinted dark by the shadow on his forehead.
“I want to know… I want to know what in the hell you want from me.”
Sinclair sounded as venomous as he could be, but Sancho wasn’t poisoned in the slightest, refusing to flinch even a tad as she stared back with similarly unwelcome eyes.
“Before answering, I have my own questions. I’m not stupid. Around here, where I live, I’ve seen you burn settlements to the ground. Why?”
Sancho was understating herself. She really wasn’t a fool, as she had most of the context already. But she wasn’t going to skip the chance of interrogating the inquisitor of high status, an actual credible source.
“Garbage. It was all garbage. I am a living garbage incinerator. It’s my duty to rid the world of such gar-”
A slight amused smirk went across Sancho’s face as she listened to Sinclair’s delusions. “You mean, ending the lives of innocent people around yo-”
“They’re not innocent!” For Sancho to make such a bold claim was what resulted in Sinclair pulling his head back up to shoot her a fiery gaze.
“Have you even seen them? Those creatures, human on the outside but soulless machines on the inside? It’s a disease, a disease that even my own family fell to. By ending their misery, I am showing them mercy.”
No excuse that Sinclair could ever give Sancho would be convincing enough to change her tune.
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
Sinclair proceeded to snarl. “W-what do you mean…”
“The gleam in your eyes, when I first saw them. The scent that I could pick up from a mile away. There’s a tinge of remorse on you, and you’re just too afraid to admi-”
“Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I do.” Usually, Sancho would be one to have a dangerously low and quiet tone, but it was now projected onto Sinclair, as a display of his raw yet insecure fury.
“The One Who Grips showed me the truth. She led me to salvation. She knows above anyone else, that the world is covered in filth. It is her sacred duty, passed on to me, for such a menace to be purged for the good of all mankind. Pure human beings will roam the earth again.”
Oh. So that was truly why. It wasn’t exactly stated, but the subtext was leaking out of the pipe. Some of it dripped onto Sancho’s body. She really wasn’t stupid.
“How sad… how sad for you to be led astray by a pure human woman’s charm. And how further sad it is, that you’re not even talking to a pure human woman right now.”
That was bold enough of an accusation for Sinclair to finally shut his big mouth. He waited with puzzled eyes for Sancho to elaborate on that last part.
“You’ve told me enough about yourself, but what about me? Well, in case you didn’t get the hint from all of that red material I’m associated with…”
Sancho leaned in closer to Sinclair, ensuring that her wicked smile would be the focal point of his vision.
“I’m a bloodfiend. Like you, I also have prey to hunt. But I don’t go about willy-nilly, feasting on innocent people.”
Two fingernails slowly but surely dug into Sinclair’s neck, not deep enough to induce blood but enough to demonstrate her restrained feral nature. His formerly stern gaze loosened quite considerably upon noticing it.
“It’s immoral folks like you. The true garbage of the City. Instead of achieving better means with the strong, the weak are shamelessly plundered. That’s the cold truth, no matter what your lady tells you.”
“...so what. I’m going to die on that hill. I’m going to die for her. You may as well just kill me now.”
Sinclair’s tone was again low, but with a lack of any more venom. He sounded more… dejected? As if there was something he could concede to, but he was too lost in the cause to reconsider his ways.
“No. Believe it or not, I pity you.”
Having not expected to ever hear that come out of his interrogator, Sinclair’s eyes sharply glanced upwards, with a considerably softer look on his face.
“Your men were also your puppets. We fed on them, for they were truly beyond redemption. But you, too, are a puppet. Her puppet. Her puppet, with a mind of its own, barely holding back. You deserve better.”
“I… I-I…” Sinclair was utterly stunned, and struggling to process it all. “Then, are you gonna just… let me go?”
With a more passive-aggressive voice, Sancho wandered aimlessly as she gave her two cents. “Not the conclusion I usually come to with my victims. By the end of my confrontation, they become an empty bloodbag, every single time. But I think today, I could make an exception.“
Sancho, without warning, snapped her head towards Sinclair, with an alarmingly smug and playful smirk on her face.
“There’s more to the human body than blood.”
- - -
Did Sinclair really hear what he thought he had heard?
Although Sancho intended to keep up her amused gaze in his direction, he sheepishly turned away from it, not wanting to confront the possibility he had in his mind. That was the wrong move, as it encouraged her to delve deeper into it.
“It is true that bloodfiends such as myself can only truly subsist on that scarlet fluid. But I don’t operate entirely on hunger. I have a lot on my shoulders, with the role I have here, so I ought to keep myself entertained…”
Sancho got closer to Sinclair, then lent out a single index finger, which soon found itself brushing against his soft cheek.
“How about it? Would you allow me to play with you, if only for a little while?”
At this point, Sinclair was frozen up, both in body and in mind. These were not at all the events which he expected to undertake on this day. It should have been just another shift, just another purging, just another bout of warmth fro-
“Don’t fret, I’m not going to force myself on you. Like I said, you are her puppet, but you have a choice to make. If you want me to send you back, for you to be in her arms again, then I will arrange. So long as you take your heartless killing sprees far away from my residence.”
The One Who Grips… she was the only one who Sinclair ever toyed around with. Or perhaps it was the other way around, what with her manipulative nature. Regardless, he was certain that no one else in his life could make him feel what she had led him to feel. That really was part of what kept him chained to this responsibility, this purging of so-called ‘filth’.
There was always a challenge, though. There was always something new to try. Could he really be so sure that his desires were solely dependent on her? Perhaps, ever since his mother sacrificed her warmth, he was actually indiscriminate of who tended to him?
And so, if only just this once, he put those theories to the test.
“I-I won’t push you away, just… j-just be gentle with me, please.”
“Oh~? I see…”
What was once a single finger on Sinclair’s cheek became two, as Sancho lightly pinched against it in a playful manner, whilst her smile grew warmer.
“You were so undignified as to call me a bitch earlier, but you seem to be softer than you look. Is this the kind of affection which she gave you? Pretty cute, all things considered…”
Sinclair went out of his way to stop himself from saying yes. Sancho had hammered the nail on the head, but he was unsure whether or not to fully cave in. He was needy, he was a pervert, but would he really fall that quickly to the charm of someone besides his superior?
Such a question was being thoroughly examined, with how she proceeded to brush her hands against his armored torso, protected at the worst possible time. There was a sense of touch he ached for, but was being denied in such an ironic fashion. Frankly, even she wasn’t amused by it.
“Your armor was useless to stop me, and even now, it just gets in the way of my embrace. Would you care if I disrobed you down here?”
Down here?
Not that Sinclair was opposed to it, but Sancho appeared to be rather stubborn and impatient. Oh well. He slowly nodded his head as a signal for her to go ahead. So it was that a layer of his gear from the waist down was steadily placed aside, revealing the much thinner pants underneath.
Like a lesser bloodfiend to a mere puddle of blood, she almost immediately settled her hand onto his half-flaccid crotch, tickling him with the way that her fingers were rubbing against it. That feeling induced as much shivers as it did arousal, with his muscles spasming all around and his breath hitching sharply.
“Sensitive, aren’t you? Fuhu~... you’re the kind of boy I like to see around here. One who just melts whenever he receives the slightest of intimacy. It’s all starting to make sense, how she goaded you into her cause.”
“P-please…” Sinclair could barely keep himself together with his stammering, especially not when his bulge was hardening too fast for his own liking. “Don’t, don’t test my patience like that…”
“Aawww~... afraid you’re going to hit your limit too early? Very well then. I have a different idea to keep you on track…”
Sancho pulled her body away from Sinclair’s, which was enough for him to emit a soft whine. It was so pathetic, yet he couldn’t help it, for that was how badly he starved for such warmth. After all, whenever he was with his superior, he had to fight and kill just to secure her affection.
Fortunately though, leaving him to his own devices was not what Sancho intended to do. She merely needed a moment to turn herself around and, without saying anything in advance, seat herself firmly on his own lap.
“Gh-Ghhhhh…”
Talk about intimacy. Sancho was quite a bold woman, shifting so quickly from her hands to her rear end, stimulating Sinclair’s member in a much more depraved way. She had her reasons though, which should have been obvious enough from his reaction, but she liked to elaborate anyway.
“I consider this to be a test of resolve. Stronger boys wouldn’t be satisfied, they’d be begging for something more involved. Weaker boys, though…”
It was then that Sancho began to move, the fabric of her light pants grinding meticulously against Sinclair’s shaft. By the Wings, that felt good, and hot… the friction down there was quickly setting his body temperature ablaze. Soon, he was a blushing and blabbering mess, pleasurably tortured by what the bloodfiend in front of him was packing.
“Uuh-hu-hu-hu-huuu~... so you are weak, after all… so adorably weak…”
Sancho’s head turned back to Sinclair, presenting such a confident and smug smirk on her face, which she soon partially covered with her fingers. It was an expression distressingly similar to that of his boss, whenever she was truly in the mood to play patty-cake with him. It further rotted his brain with lust, his hips attempting to move just a tad under Sancho’s weight.
She noticed, for better or worse. “Ah, quite disgraceful, no? As it is now, you are my throne, and yet you squirm when my hips rest against yours… or, should I say, when my butt grinds against your thing. How scandalous~...”
Those hushed, teasing words were what really grated on Sinclair’s nerves. He so badly wanted for his arms to be freed, for him to wrap around Sancho, for him to project his needs onto her. But all he could do at the moment was squeak and whine.
“Mmn-ghh, M-Miss, I…”
“It’s all so stupid, isn’t it? What it takes for an old lady like me to put a young boy like you in his place, is to set her rear onto his lap, and then go uuupp…” Sancho indeed shifted herself as a way to prove her point. “...and dooowwn. Up, and down. Up and down…”
The pace stalled for a moment, as Sancho was ready to affirm her suspicions by undoing Sinclair’s fly. Without any objection on his end, his genitals were exposed at long last, throbbing helplessly against her curves, and already appearing lubricated. Her eyes narrowed at such an audacious sight, and she was quick to resume her movement, watching as it reacted more violently to her leather-clad bottom brushing against his bare skin.
“The full texture of your thing is now indulging in the splendor of my curves… does that feel good? Is my body making you feel all fuzzy~?”
“H-haah… haah… s-stop talking… just, just keep moving…”
Truthfully, Sinclair didn’t want Sancho to shut up. It was more of a defensive reaction. He wanted to hide how weak he was to getting teased, whether it came from her, his superior, or hell, any older woman. He had specific kinks, and it wasn’t hard for them to be provoked. However, his moist shaft did the talking for him, leaking more and more precum onto the bloodfiend’s pants, putting her on alert.
“It appears as if you’re nearing the end of your rope… fuhehee~... after all of that stress, all of that tension from our one-sided battle, you want to dump your load onto me… just as I intended.”
Sinclair was done denying himself. “I, I-I do… let me cum, Miss, please, I wanna cum, I… haah…”
As a reward for his honesty, Sancho let out more soft giggles, and tried to squish the muscles of her thighs and butt tighter against him. “Again, I can’t believe this is all it takes to make you lose control… it’s just my bottom rubbing against you… naughty boy~...”
Those last couple of words. Ugh.
It was no wonder that Sinclair reached his climax almost instantly afterwards. He loved to be showered with praise, showered with affection, showered with teasing, showered with pillow talk. He proved that love by continuously spurting thick drops of his seed against Sancho, glazing her clothes with something other than blood for once.
When it seemed to be all out, he could no longer excuse himself with language. He merely panted, firmly out of breath, and listened to how she laughed softly in light of everything that happened.
It seemed already that the hypothesis regarding his dependency was confirmed.
- - -
“Ehehee~... that was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?” Sensing that the tide has settled down, Sancho faced Sinclair with satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “I must have drained your love juices quite thoroughly. Although I can’t feed on that, it’s amusing to see how needy you are…”
“Nn-ghhh-haah…”
Although Sinclair was still short of words, that didn’t mean he wasn’t listening closely to Sancho. She had such a reserved, mature voice which he slowly learned to appreciate. Again, it was remarkably like his boss.
“However, I’m not intent on holding you prisoner or anything. I do believe it is time for us to part ways. Thank you, my esteeme-... hm?”
It was at that moment which Sinclair began to thrust, harder than he did before. Sancho hadn’t dismounted from him yet, and he impulsively took the chance to show the true extent of his troubled mindset, begging with those motions first before using his words.
“M-more… more… I w-want more… please…”
“Oooh, my…”
As a sort of light punishment for his rash behavior, Sancho lifted herself up, condemning his to isolation once more. As she paced, she had an index finger on her cheek as she contemplated the situation.
“You want to go all the way, don’t you? I killed your men, I punched you out, I locked you up, and yet you desire to have sex with me. You are very peculiar.”
“It… it just… she…”
Sinclair was finally comfortable talking about his superior, if only the smaller details. “She teases me. A lot. Just like you. She lets me indulge in her body, her intimacy. She makes me feel so warm and cozy. And I can never… have enough…”
What a sad, broken boy. He lost everything and everyone in his life. His home, his neighbors, his friends, his family. All he had left was a depraved relationship with the very woman who turned him against his town in the first place. The promise of soft affection would keep the guilt and depression away.
Sancho understood this, and it was reason enough for her oncoming response, though she had more to share beyond that.
“I am certain that if you said and did such things to the vast majority of women in this City, they would laugh you out of the room. But on my end, I have some good news.”
The expression on Sancho’s face perked up, and she approached Sinclair with the surefire knowledge that he would get excited over it. Although, it was somewhat of an insincerity, because it secretly disturbed her as much as it convenienced her.
“Bloodfiends like me cannot get pregnant. There are absolutely no long-term consequences for a quick and dirty bout of intimacy. And I have all the time in the world to spare…”
Sinclair’s eyes indeed brightened up as a blush overtook his face, quite a contrast from the stern and bloody appearance he put on much earlier.
“...so, I accept your offer. Your arms shall be released now. If you think of deceiving me, attacking me while my guard is down, know that I am a second kindred, far stronger than a human like you has any right to be.”
Honestly though, despite Sancho’s word of warning, Sinclair didn’t intend to do that at all. Nor run away while he had the chance. As hostile as the two were to each other initially, he was adjusted to her presence at this point. And his carnal wants, his deplorable begging, were completely genuine.
Once his arms were freed, he slowly stood up, not wanting to present her with any threatening body language. He wordlessly watched as she turned to place her hands on a nearby desk, lifting her rear up and turning her head to him.
“Here you go. After everything I did to rile you up, I will let you have the honor of disrobing me, and unveiling all of my shameful parts…”
Although Sinclair could have torn Sancho completely naked within seconds, he decided that only her pants, and the lacy red underwear lying hidden, should be pulled down. Her smooth, glistening intimacy soon laid in front of his very eyes, inviting him to take the plunge.
Indeed, with bated breaths, his own special place lined up against her, bare skin against bare skin, so dangerously close to penetrating the vulnerable flesh behind the folds, just a moment away from indulging in warm, moist bliss.
Except…
“Um… excuse me, but you…”
Sinclair’s shaft had moved just a few inches higher, brushing against a certain other orifice which also had the misfortune of being exposed. For it to be so close to the nether regions was considered a curse, just like the thirst for blood. As his tip shivered, feeling the rims of that forbidden hole, a blush quickly flared across Sancho’s face.
“Are you a virgin, by chance? Do you know where to put your thing inside? Because I assure you, the part you’re feeling right now is not what you’re supposed to mess with.”
Although Sinclair chose not to answer, his response wouldn’t be what Sancho was hoping for. No, he was not a virgin. Of course, The One Who Grips got that chokehold on him first, out of simultaneous affection and manipulation. The two had done quite a lot of lewd things together, during their journey of conquest.
But she never let him play with that. Not because she disliked it, but it was rather a possibility which slipped from her mind. And he was happy enough under her care to not think too much about it either. However, he was not in her arms at the moment. With Sancho, he might be able to try something new.
So it was that he properly lined his member against where he wanted to go, putting just a centimeter or two of it inside, to let her know that he was serious.
“N-no way, you’re actually going t— a-are you really that inconsiderat-”
“I’m sorry, but yes.” Sinclair’s tone dropped down to a similar level as his initial conversation with Sancho, not out of hatred but rather anxiety. “I never got to do it like this…”
The bloodfiend was truly embarrassed, and could easily get her guest back on track, but she didn’t. She took the reins earlier, but since this was the second round, she felt an obligation to return the favor. So instead, she conceded with an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not thrilled over the idea, but I won’t stop you. All I ask is that you take it slowly.”
Having come around to appreciate Sancho’s patience, Sinclair honored her words. Inch by inch, he wormed his member into the bedgrudging tube, letting himself comprehend what it felt like for the first… and perhaps only… time of his life.
At least, that was the intention. But about a quarter of the way in, he stopped, sharply gasping and gripping his hands against her waist.
“Gh-f-fuck me, haah, it’s so tight…”
That kind of comment wasn’t exactly what Sancho wanted to hear. A firsthand account of the sensation lurking within her own behind wracked her with self-consciousness, her already flushed face growing ever redder.
“H-how flattering of you, in all of the wrong ways… if you could avoid saying much more, I would appreciate it…”
Sinclair chose to listen for now, putting just a smidge more effort into getting his rod inside. It took a few more seconds, but soon it went as far as he could go. He and Sancho could only barely hold themselves together, panting and grunting in sheer disbelief at the brand-new experience they were undergoing. He was, however, courteous enough to wait for a green light.
“I-I think I’m in, so, may I move now…?”
“We’ve come this far. I can’t guarantee that I’ll like it, but I’m one to honor my word… g-go ahead.”
Finally, some true action proceeded to take its course. Starting at a sluggish pace, Sinclair’s steamy member slid against the warm, squelchy, non-reproductive tract of Sancho. Needless to say, as an orifice which eluded his mind in the past, even this speed was enough to light a fire in his body. With each decisive thrust, he shivered, occasionally collapsing his chest against her back.
On her end… no, it sure didn’t feel bad. But to say that it felt good would be too early of a judgement. It just felt different, and she probably needed a few more sessions to get used to it. For now though, it was at least effective enough for her to moan, in short and soft bursts.
As he gradually sped up, another facet which really got to his head was the way that her buttocks were slapping against his hips, those lewd sounds being so undignified in comparison to her royal clothed exterior. Although it was the ‘wrong’ hole, he was still mating her like a wild animal, and he teasingly wanted to let her know that.
“Ghh-nnn, haah, Wings… feels so good, the way I just have it in there, when it’s supposed to just take a sh-”
“D-d-don’t say it, please, don’t say it!” For Sinclair to make such a blunt remark filled Sancho with immense shame, swirls now forming in her eyes. “I know w-what it does! I’m not a child! You d-don’t have to provide narration during sex - haah - do you realize how humiliating that is?”
“Well… you sure did that with me.”
With shadows obscuring Sinclair’s eyes once more, he suddenly accelerated his thrusts, the full force of his hips soon resulting in a much moister sensation. Sancho gasped and moaned louder as her body continuously slammed against his, her embarrassing place being ravaged from the inside out. Her hands gripped tighter against the desk, in her attempt to match the raw energy behind his actions.
Perhaps still too early to call it good, but she was adapting to it quicker than she expected, with her genitals feeling all hot and bothered. If she wasn’t so busy with her hands, maybe she would have tried to brush against her clitoris to get a further rise out of herself.
“How about that? Gh-haah, the speed… I can sense you, the way you squirm against me, seems y-you can’t have enough of it either…”
“I-I-I, nghh…” Sancho struggled to retort. If only Sinclair would slow down for a brief moment. “It is true that - aaahn~ - I am not opposed to this… b-but don’t tease me any more than necessary…”
“Y-your’re in luck, unfortunately… gh-ghhnn!” Sinclair continued to yap as he made a few more firm thrusts, feeling something lurking within his system. “I think, I think I’m close, so I don’t have the time t-”
“Wait, w-wait, if you’re going to, do it outside, I beg of you!” Sancho, in spite of her clouded mind, tried her best to shoot a concerned look at Sinclair. “If you were - nnaanhh~ - making a mess of my breeding system, I wouldn’t mind, but for you to target that place instead… gghaah, I don’t want that to get dirty…”
“Haha… gh-ha… even now, you’re such a clean and proper lady… u-unlike her…”
That was the conclusion Sinclair ultimately came to, before he decided that he was done thinking things over. Something else was on the verge of hatching, and he made sure to pull his member out of Sancho’s orifice before it was too late.
“G-hhh, c-cumming, cumming, ngghHH–!!”
For the second and final time of this encounter, Sinclair coated Sancho’s rear end with his pent-up need, manifested as warm ropes of semen. It was so lewd, so audacious, that it ironically turned her on, finally letting a hand off the desk in order to slowly finger herself.
It took a while for him to notice, under his shortness of breath. “Wow, y-you’re not done yet?”
“I… ngh… I guess I’m not, but let me take care of that myself, please. In the meantime, I believe I c-can safely say that we’ve done our deeds for one day.”
Now that the high was wearing off, Sinclair could begin to remember everything which led up to this spicy occasion, and he was hardly believing any of it. Especially the fact that it all stemmed from a brutal fight.
“I… I don’t really know what to say…”
“I-I think I need some time to process it as well. But as it stands now, you’re free to go. I might have held you up for too long.”
Sinclair didn’t want to linger on the implications. Within seconds, he scrambled to wipe the mess off his body with nearby tissues, and hoist the lower portions of his armor back up. He forgot to say goodbye, but before he could head out, Sancho did the work for him.
“Hold on! J-just in case… in case you ever get the depraved idea to see me again. I’m sort of ashamed I didn’t tell you earlier. I am Sancho, and this is La Manchaland.”
The bloodfiend’s guest paused for a moment, letting those two names burn into his brain. Although he was facing the door, and in the process of stepping outside, he left her with one more comment.
“S-Sinclair… I’m Sinclair. Emil Sinclair.”
- - -
Wings, it felt like an eternity.
Just how far did Sancho drag Sinclair away? It must not have been that remote, because she could clearly see the smoke from La Manchaland. But after everything the two had done together, he couldn’t perceive distance very well.
At least he knew his way back… well, ‘home’ was poor word choice, because that was the place he helped to burn down. Back to his superior’s base was more accurate.
Fortunately, once he finally did get his footing where he belonged, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. Yes, his men weren’t with him, but that wasn’t to be questioned. Sometimes the inquisitors were met with resistance. That was simply the nature of human conflict, as long as he himself wasn’t hurt.
With his feet under agony from all that walking, he sighed in relief as he sat down in the tent he became familiar with after donning the title of The One Who Shall Grip. He didn’t have much time for peace and quiet though, because The One Who Grips was soon by his side.
“There you are, Sinclair. Quite a mission you went through this time, no? I didn’t think you would be gone for that much of a while.”
Sinclair’s men dying at the hands of the bloodfiends was sort of a good thing, because it served as the perfect excuse for his actions. He had something to tell Faust, without necessarily lying to her.
“The filth has been purged, but there was a hell of a fight. None of my peers came out unscathed, and I was limping all the way back. I wish cleansing this world was easier…”
Those words prompted Faust to gently brush his golden hair, still somewhat caked with blood, using her spindly fingers. Already, that was making him feel warm all over again.
“A job well done, my little Sinclair. It is true that we face opposition, even from pure human beings, but we cannot give up. Everyone needs to see the truth, that the so-called prosthetics are little more than vestigial machines to be eradicated.”
Faust’s hands switched from Sinclair’s hair to his shoulders, massaging them as her way to ease his nerves.
Make no mistake, he still loved her dearly. The amount of warmth and affection she would give him was second to none. An encounter with someone else wasn’t going to singlehandedly flip his world upside down. However, it made him a little less certain about his goals.
He knew now that he didn’t need to depend on her. If things fell through with her, if he was left all alone, then he wasn’t hopeless. Maybe the next person to treat him warmly, to give him the intimacy which he insatiably craved, wouldn’t constantly send him out on slaughter missions.
Not having to fight just for love… that sure would be nice.