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Mouth Bitch's Jaws of Mercy	By : Bellboy64 Category: 1 through F > From Dusk 'Til Dawn Views: 3184 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the "From Dusk Till Dawn" film franchise nor the characters within it. This is an original story set within the universe, utilising one character for fanfiction purposes. I am not making any money from this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Chapter Four: Body Language
Charlie woke up very suddenly in a light, cold sweat. He was staring at the musky old ceiling, adorned with colourless drapes and cobwebs. It was very dark around him and there was no noise at all. Not even a single solitary echo emanating from the barren corridors.
Am I dead? No. He couldn't be- he was still breathing, though deeply. His battle with the dart's venom had left him shaken and a bit uneasy. He still wasn't 100% yet and truth he wasn't certain he ever would be again...
Charlie perked up. That vampire! Where did she she go?! He moved his head around sharply, trying to get a glimpse of her in the shadows but to no avail. It was strange but he felt disappointed at the revelation. He quietly chastised his behaviour but something deep in him wanted to see her again. He couldn't explain it. Not in good conscience anyway.
He was certain he would see her again though and that lightened his mood considerably. Just thinking about it made him excited. It frustrated him greatly but he couldn't get her image out his head. Her nude body... her rotund shape... her monstrous form. He could not explain the sudden fascination with her- earlier he'd have given everything to be rid of her, now he wanted to get a second peek! Did she do something to him...? It didn't matter to Charlie. He just wanted to be with her again.
...What am I saying? Snap out of it, Charlie! She'll kill you! It was odd. The thought had momentarily crossed his mind but it didn't scare him. He just had a crazy feeling that she wouldn't do it. That she wasn't hungry or something. Well, hungry for blood, anyway... But how could he really have faith in that...? He was there at the bar. He say the mindless carnage, the heartless murder; the feeding. He knew she was capable of it. He tried to remember whether she had a spot of blood on her anywhere the last time she saw him but the image of her was vague, empty even. That fact made him all the more eager to see her again. Where did she go...?
Charlie took a moment to survey his surroundings. He found himself lying on a bed, covered in wearily-stained sheets. Cautiously, he sniffed them. It was rank with dry sweat of some kind but it was much too dark, too foul, to be it alone. A bed? I thought I saw one when I first came in here but it was so long ago... Odd. I'm surprised it's still usable. He pushed the covers off his body as best as he could. The venom's paralytic nature hadn't subsided yet. He was rooted there.
Damn it all! I can't go looking for her like this! Strangely this was only disappointment he felt for his predicament. That he couldn't go searching for the angel from his nightmares. He slumped his head back onto the damp pillow, defeated. He stared into the black void of the ceiling with uncertainty. What now?
Suddenly, he could feel something. A huge, taloned hand clasp over the back of his head. He froze slightly as the realisation caught up with him. Slowly he tilted his head towards the dark shadow on the other side of the bed. It was always there but he just didn't take proper notice before. The covers slid off to reveal a familiar-looking form that caught the dull-glow of the slowly dying-brazier. The head turned to reveal her hideous face. Charlie was stunned, she wasn't smiling like usual which felt a little off. With no warning to she let out a horrific roar that awoke his dormant conscience dead alert.
Charlie couldn't hold it back; he screamed in terror. The original terror that plagued him to begin with. The human, mortal fear of coming death. The spell he was under had momentarily weakened. And with it he instinctively tried to flee.
With panicked ferocity he scrambled off the bed. He almost escaped unchallenged when her fat hand grabbed him by the forearm and tried to pull him back. For a brief, stunned moment she had almost succeeded when he found himself held fast by her and her powerful arms began to reel him into her inviting arms. He was held for a beat when he broke free of her once more by wrenching himself from her grasp with a firm yank.
Charlie regained his footing as best as he could on the silky floor coverings. He was now aware of the presence of scattered human- no doubt male- bones that poked out from beneath the wild, patternless folds, highlighted by masses of dried blood and old worn flesh. The blood-red steel brazier's flames seemed to ignite with excitement by Charlie's sudden scuffle and shone brighter, casting deep but warm shadows across the room's interior and delights.
Charlie glanced over to the door. It wasn't glaringly obvious but the rusty bars still trapped him in his dirty and promiscuous prison. He was still alone. ...With her.
He cautiously looked back on the bed where the Mouth Bitch lay before him. She held his uncertain gaze for a brief moment and with little effort and teasing she cast off the bed-sheets that shielded what little modesty she had. The light glimmered on her imperfect body, the shadows framing her nudity and casting mystery into what the light did not reveal to him, what she didn't present to him with such proud eagerness. She smiled seductively at him. Enticingly. Her fat profile glowed ominously in the gloom. Her murky yellow eyes bore into him. When he looked into her eyes he was unnervingly compelled to join her. More than compelled. He needed to be there! The glamour she had lovingly drenched him with began to take hold. Charlie's breath became heavy and nervous. He was well aware of the danger he was in and the likelihood his life would be forfeit should he give in to his urge. And the urge was strong. So strong that even it on it's own began to scare him.
The patchy gleams on her crinkled skin hinted a certain moistness to her body, most likely to the probable grease and slowly-cooking sweat someone of her "persuasion" might exert. She was a foul specimen of a creature, even if she were a regular human woman the only way he would be naturally attracted to her would be if he had some kind of... fetish for such a disgusting beast such as herself.
-CHAPTER TO BE FINISHED EVENTUALLY- (Also if it doesn't make sense right away it will in time. It just means I'm still editing and I've taken a break.)
- 3
- 4
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Mouth Bitch's Jaws of Mercy