For a heartbeat her triumph was in competition with the adrenaline rushing through her to see which would rule. Then she was turning, looking at Mars who lit by the glow of the dashboard. She had half a second to register the expression on his face before his hands were cupping her face and the buzzing energy that happened every time they touched threatened to overwhelm her. Just as suddenly her triumph and her adrenaline were trumped. Lust reared up and took all the space in her head as he pressed his lips to hers.
For just a second she was being kissed, passive and shocked as much as she was receptive. For that second she let her lips be soft as she caught up to the change in the moment. But it was only a second and then she was no longer being kissed but kissing back. If his kiss was not soft, hers was not either. Hers was hungry. She parted her lips with a needful noise and kissed him back even as she arched against him. She found that her arms had somehow twined around his neck and that her fingers were tightly tangled in the thick mass of his short hair so that she could better get an angle to kiss him back. It felt almost like a battle of some sort, his lips, hers, her tongue, his, all struggling for something like dominance. Every inch of her that touched him seemed to buzz with that energy and each inch seemed to magnify the intensity of it.
He broke off and looked at her. She was breathing hard as if she'd run miles. She could see just the high-planes of his face, bathed in the green light of the dashboard lights and looked for signs that he was as turned on as she. He looked alien and dangerous to her. He looked like something that was a very bad idea, like something delicious she knew she shouldn't eat. The part of her that was her mother's daughter wanted only to throw one leg over his lap so that she straddled him to see where that got her. She'd had one hellish ride this night, didn't she deserve a good one? He looked like he'd know how to show a girl a good time. Besides, how many fucking times in one day was a body supposed to handle being in peril without finding some way to celebrate the life that was nearly lost.
He'd stopped kissing her. Was he looking for something in her expression? She was pretty sure her willingness was writ clear upon her features. Was he waiting for her to protest? I'd be long wait. Taking matters into her own hands she leaned in, catching his mouth with hers and shifting on the seat so that she might straddle his lap, caution, wives, good-sense be damned.
In the spur of the moment, Mars was exactly the dog that his wife claimed him to be. Estelle didn't feel like Delphine in his arms, she wasn't as soft, she didn't taste like her, either, no strong bite of alcohol sealed their kiss. There was only passion and desire, qualities that Mars hadn't seen in his formerly blushing bride for years. He had never claimed to be morally better than any other man out there, and after all, he was mostly human—who could really blame him for acting on what had been building over the last few days?
He'd have been crazy not to.
The passing seconds melted by as they looked at one another, possibly trying to suss out what had just happened—and if it should happen again. Mars stayed silent and quelled the urge to pull her back in, not wanting to force something that she didn't want. Luckily, embarrassment was staved off for a while longer because Estelle's pouty mouth was soon pressed to his once more, along with the rest of her. With her arms around his neck, Mars settled one of her hands on her thin waist, gripping her hip to make sure that she wouldn't be going anywhere but his lap. His other hand wasn't idle, no, those fingers were eager as they settled on her thigh, sparks firing off between them even through the fabric of her skirt.
It was a hungry kiss, but Mars was starving. There was little sweetness in his actions, not when he had almost died, not when Estelle felt like a prize just for managing to stay alive over the last twenty-four hours. He pulled her closer, the warmth of her skin against his and the already humid air of the car made it all the more real. Pulling away from her lovely mouth, Mars kissed at her neck, up and down, biting and licking until he got to her ear. In a perfect world, he would have had something good to say, something out of some dirty romance novel, but all he really came up was a single curse word as the hand on her thigh found the hem of her skirt.
So he wasn't one for dirty talk that was just fine. He wasn't really one for any sort of talk so far as Estelle could tell. It wasn't like she was interested in talking with him. No she had something entirely different planned for his mouth and his tongue. How fucking long had it been? It seemed like months since she'd last been with Shawn and even longer since she'd really wanted to. He'd tried to pin his infidelity on her, saying she'd grown frigid and rigid. The heat ripping through her was very much proof to the contrary. All the hunger and desire that was the legacy of her mother (and apparently Giga) came flaring back to life as she straddled Mars' lap. She wanted him with a hunger borne of danger, but also cultivated by the strange electric buzzing that tingled across their skin whenever they touched. Their kisses were rich with it and the extended contact didn't make it annoying as she'd subconsciously feared. With their continued touch the tingling deepened, matured and was somehow a low-tone of pleasure enhancing even the simplest touch. She was hopeful it wasn't just her that felt it. Evidence seemed to be in exhibit A which was the something hard and tantalizing against the soft curve of her stomach. It was most certainly not the fucking stick sift either.
"Yes," she hissed as he sucked and bit at her neck, proving that she was no more a purveyor of dirty talk than he. It felt so damn good she was honestly at a loss for words. But then she was more of a show don't tell sort of girl. Show him she did in the way she writhed and pressed against him.
"Yes," she said again when his hands found the hum of her skirt. Yes indeed he should see what he could do with that, see what he could do about removing it. Her hands, which had been splayed across the impressive breadth of his back, her fingers flexing into the meat of his muscles slid over his shoulders and then down his chest squeezing into the small space she managed to eke out between them. Demonstrating just what it was she wanted she tugged at the hem of her shirt and began to raise it up, exposing the soft skin of her café-au-lait skin one inch at a time hoping he'd catch the hint. They were wearing entirely too much clothing.
It was like high school all over again—front seat shenanigans, his hands where they weren't supposed to be and a pretty girl all to himself. Mars was beside himself, giddy as a man of his size and stature could be as his glory days came flooding back to him, and with any luck, Estelle would soon be flooded to. He was desperate for her, ready to lose himself in the beautiful woman that had done so much more than just captivate his mind for the last several days. He swore, if this was one of Ida's tricks, if she was back to claim what she'd been pinching through the evening, he didn't even care. His mind was singular, just Estelle as she mewled like a kitten in his lap and left the sweet taste of infidelity on his tongue.
When she lifted the hem of his shirt, the soft skin of her flat stomach coming into his hungry view, Mars didn't need to be told twice. He smirked and then bit down on his lip before his hands moved to take over and in one swift tug, the garment was falling to the floor of the truck. His hands smoothed along the curves of her sides and settled momentarily on her back while his mouth continued its journey downward. She was delicious; the electric warmth of her skin only serving to stir the beginnings of an erection before he turned to lay her down across the wide front seat.
"You sure about this?" he asked, low and breathy, the windshield was already beginning to fog as his lips kissed away one bra strap. She looked good that way, splayed out and ready for the taking, and goddamn—did he ever want her. He cupped her ample breasts in his large hands, eyes meeting hers in the semi-darkness of the night around them.
Estelle stared down at him incredulously. "Am I sure? Holy fuck Mars, I'm sprawled out underneath you and was just straddling you. I think I've been pretty clear what my intentions are." She didn't look any less turned on but for a moment she seemed to be almost channeling Ida in her irritation. Her lush thighs, wounded as well as not, cradled his hips as she lay back, stretched out on a dead man's front seat. If she wasn't afraid of opening the stupid cut and ruining everything by bleeding on him, she'd have clamped down on him and let him feel the heat of her convictions.
Her breasts looked so small in his large hands, she liked that and reached up to wrap her small hands around his, encouraging him to firm up his grip. She was no pale, slender wisp of a girl and she knew what she wanted and just then, that was Mars.
"Yeah, Mars," she said, arching her back and thrusting her breasts up into his grip. I'm pretty fucking sure."
Potty-mouth Estelle slid her hands from his, up his arms and to his shoulders pulling him down for a kiss, before which she hissed, "Take off your god-dammed shirt."
She kissed him then and began to tug and claw at his shirt. She was so very occupied with the task at hand that she didn't notice the pulse of energy that seemed to fill the field or the way the cloying scent of rot, present for much of the night, grew to nearly oppressive levels as the night seemed to thicken around them. She was too busy tasting and breathing in the heady-lust rich scent of Mars as each inch of their skin in contact nearly overwhelmed her senses. So when the creature slammed what passed as its fist down upon the roof of the truck hard enough to dent it, she was completely taken by surprise.
Flailing and screaming she wriggled underneath Mars trying to recall which way was up, which was down and what the hell was going on. The night around them seemed to roil with a purple-black light that bore the sweet scent of rot with an undertone of Malice. The car shook under another blow.
"Well, goddamn," Mars replied, turned on by her enthusiasm but not sorry he asked, "crucify me for trying to respect you." Women liked that sort of thing, at least, Delphine did and Mars didn't think that reminding Estelle of the gravity of the situation could hurt any. After all, he was married and it wasn't like he was going to go home with her if they lived through the night. The goal, if he were being honest and ready jeopardize his chances, was to deal with whatever was trying to kill him, kill it first and then never venture too deeply into the swamp again. Maybe Estelle understood that, though, maybe she just wanted to get laid and be done with it—she was her grandmother's granddaughter.
At her urging and caught in another heated kiss, Mars began to pull off his shirt. He too was occupied, mind focused solely on the beautiful woman beneath him, warm and willing, much more interesting than the change in the air outside of the truck. Without so much as a warning, an otherworldly fist slammed down onto the truck's roof, causing Estelle to scream as purple smoke filled the open field and the sweet scent or rot nipped at them.
Swearing under his breath, Mars leaned around Estelle, who was still partially beneath him, to grab the shotgun that had fallen to floor. Outside, the purple smoke was swirling closer and the creature on top of the truck let out a guttural howl into the night. Without really thinking, Mars pumped the shotgun and pressed the barrel to the bare metal of the roof before pulling the trigger. One of the magic bullets ripped through the covering and the monster's low growl instantly turned to a yelp of pain. Mars didn't think it was dead, but it bought them some time as the truck shook with its weight once more.
"You good to run on that leg?" he asked, gun still in one hand as the other was just seconds away from throwing the door open. The truck was stuck in the mud, and spinning the wheels was only going to get them killed. Their best bet was to get the hell away, shoot what they could and pray that crashed car back by the tree they'd passed still had some life left in it. "One way or another, we're getting out of this." He didn't care if he had to throw her over his shoulder—that thing wasn't going to sink its teeth into either of them.
No, she was not good to run on that leg but as there wasn't any other option she nodded. Lust was quickly morphing into a mix of frustration and terror and Estelle hoped it would be enough to get her through the upcoming minutes. She really didn't know where they were, she hadn't paid much attention during their flight when her big concern had been shooting a werewolf in the heart. So turns and landmarks had been pretty secondary. Plus she didn't really know this area all that well in the first place.
The car rocked as the sprit (there was no mistaking that scent of rot) shifted on the back of the truck. She could not make out much of it past the lacy spider web of cracked glass but she knew that Giga's bullets had been effective enough. But as effective as it was, one bullet wasn't enough to drive it off. Estelle could just picture it crouching down, ready to jump up and crush them under its weight. She knew she'd do the same if she were in its shoes.
The car creaked again and she felt the weight of it lift, no longer so lost in the heat of lust that she'd missed it getting on in the first place.
"Shit!" she said and pushed the door open and wriggled the rest of the way out from under Mars, terror all the lubrication she needed.
"Run!" she followed it up with because if Estelle was one thing it was cool under pressure. Such inspiring commands. She could beat herself up for them later, if there was a later. Her feet hit the ground and she felt her feet squelch into cold mud. The force required to pull them out was considerable but for at least the first few steps adrenaline eased her way. By the time her leg gave out she was several good yards from the truck. She fell with a curse and rolled to get her face out of the mud. Her skirts were soaked with the slop and thanks to her earlier ardor she wasn't wearing a shirt and one of her tits was bare. That felt interesting in the mud.
"Gah!" she cursed, scraping mud off of her only to stop and see the foot of the spirit coming straight for her. Then there was nothing much she could say but, "Fuck!"
The sweet stench of death was becoming all too familiar, but Mars remained determined to go out on his own terms. That monster may have come for he and Estelle again, but the shot that he'd fired through the truck's roof had definitely bought them some time. Mars could only hope that it was enough, because he didn't have a real plan and with all of the adrenaline and frustration pumping through his veins, he was working off of instinct more than anything. In that split second, he could only pray to whatever was out there that his actions didn't get the both of them killed. Estelle didn't deserve to be tangled up in any of this.
The truck shifted again, heavy with the weight of the injured creature as the purple smoke continued to billow into the field like a silent killer. It was still alive back there, growling and yelping the most unholy of sounds, and it was clear that one bullet hadn't been enough to put it down. Mars leaned up as the truck bed shifted again, signaling the creature's rise to its sinister feet and before he could stop her, Estelle was sprinting out of the truck. For someone whose legs had been through hell and back, she moved well enough through the thick mud but it wasn't long before she was stuck and falling.
"Goddamnit," he swore and her command to follow was still ringing in his ears as the creature set its sights on the injured woman. He kept hold of the shotgun and scrambled out of the truck, boots sinking into the thick mud for those first few steps, but Mars wasn't about to waste too much time. One of his shoes came off in the process, giving his gait something of a limp as the mud squished beneath him, enveloping his sock before sucking that into oblivion as well.
In the distance, the creature was gaining on Estelle and Mars had little choice—shoot, or watch her be devoured—he couldn't let it happen. In the dark and with the crooked sight, it was difficult to get a good aim, but Mars did what he could and zeroed in on the wounded monster's back. The recoil knocked hard into his shoulder, but as the bullet sailed through the air, the purple smoke began to clear. Across the field, the creature yelped again and slowed in its pace, but it was still hanging on.
Rather than fire again, he took off in a run, catching up with it as its black body began to evaporate in the air. There wasn't time for both bullets to take their toll, not when Estelle was still down in the mud. When he was close enough, side by side with the beast, Mars drove the butt of the shotgun against its head with all the force he had. It wasn't entirely solid, but something crunched beneath the old wood as blood as black as the night around them began to ooze out. It turned, barring its large teeth in his direction, but Mars fired a third shot.
Right between the eyes—he was pretty proud of himself.
The purple smoke that had been steadily inching closer seemed to howl a scream, loud and just as encompassing as the magic in the air as the creature melted just like the previous iteration. Mars covered his sensitive ears, flinching until it was over, and the only thing left were teeth and bones. At the very least, they could get the bullets back.
And just like that, they were alone again. Mars breathed a sigh, his exhale worried, anxious and more than a little annoyed. "I am real fucking tired of all this," he said and then extended a hand to Estelle. Poor thing, all covered in mud and no way to clean up.
For a heartbeat her triumph was in competition with the adrenaline rushing through her to see which would rule. Then she was turning, looking at Mars who lit by the glow of the dashboard. She had half a second to register the expression on his face before his hands were cupping her face and the buzzing energy that happened every time they touched threatened to overwhelm her. Just as suddenly her triumph and her adrenaline were trumped. Lust reared up and took all the space in her head as he pressed his lips to hers. 
