Tyro's Tale: Chronicles of a dead man

[Tyro Clay]

I love my dear Heartless, Tyro, even though he is a manipulative, cunning, twisted, evil son of a... you know. He wasn't always that way - Heartless, at least. Wanna see how he came to be? Check here and I'll post the chronicles of his life one tale at a time. Chapters in red are more mature, but all are... relatively calm.

Dog-eat-Dog

[Tyro Clay]

The air was stagnant; despite the sky being vast overhead, it was black. There was an ominous feeling in the air as the underbrush shifted. From the darkness of a thicket of trees came a tall, slender figure; dressed in a skin-tight black muscle shirt and straight-leg jeans with Converse tennis shoes, the figure seemed to blend in with the darkness, appearing almost as one with the night. They were tense, gaze shifting about from the moon high in the sky to a crystal clear pool of water a few feet away and then to the trees from which they had come.

The night was silent. The owls did not stir, and the tree frogs remained silent. A sharp crackle sounded in the distance and the figure stood up a little straighter. From the pale light provided by the moon, a devilish smile could be seen gently slipping over the figure's face which was framed by sleek strands of dark indigo hair, as though he knew what was coming. Despite this, he did not turn. Another little rustle sounded, closer now, and the figure remained motionless. There was a low growl from close behind and then, suddenly, a shriek.

Quickly, the figure turned, only to be thrown to the ground by a flying blur of skin and pale tan clothing. With a thud and a low grunt the figure landed, and the creature sat perched on him, legs on either side of the figure's body, hands on their chest. "Gotcha, bitch!" a honey-sweet voice trilled. A pair of shimmering crystal blue eyes, framed by lush black lashes stared down lustfully at the prey, and slowly she let her hands trail down his chest, allowing a low, faint sigh to come from the man beneath her.

The peace did not last long; with a sudden snarl, the man grabbed at her wrists, pulling them off of his chest in opposite directions and throwing her off balance. With a skilled twist of his own body, he flipped her onto her back and sat perched on top of her, now, pinning her wrists to the ground and leaning with his smirking lips inches from hers. "I think not, my dear," he stated with a voice as deadly and venomous as a snake, cold as ice but laced with love. "I win... as usual." With that, the man pressed his lips to hers, and a quiet moan slipped from her throat.

She dipped her head, reluctantly separating their lips, and she stated, "I was almost afraid I couldn't show. My biological asshole had me on lockdown." She smirked a little bit and finished triumphantly, "The ether worked pretty well, I'd say."

The man responded, eagerly pressing closer to her, "I had no doubts." With that, he pressed his lips to hers again, and immediately their kiss became more passionate; she pressed her body up towards his, and he released her hands. Her arms found their way around his neck, holding him tight and close. With a low growl, he nibbled at her tongue, and she shivered with pleasure and licked at his teeth. The two mingled and mixed with their pleasure for a little while, and then, quickly, the lady flipped the two of them over again so she sat on him light as a feather.

The man looked up and down her perfect figure lustfully, and then he growled, "Take off your dress, sweetie." She shook her head, her long braids shuddering a bit with each movement. She looked down at him and purred, "Take off your shirt first, dear." Her tone became a bit mocking, and the man raised one dark brow, his deep honey-brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Don't make me tear it off of you. I've done it before; I'll do it again." She laughed in her most playful tone and purred, "I'd like to see you try."

He sat up in an instant and she fell onto her back with a cry that was cut short when he wrapped one hand around her neck. Her entire body tensed up as her air supply was cut off, and she wrapped her hands around his wrist, managing to let out a long, lustful whimper. The man grinned that flashy devil's smile of his and slipped his hand up the bottom of her hoodie dress, and a moment after, a muffled cry came from the young woman, and the man knew he had won this fight without really even trying.

By the time they finished their business, the moon had disappeared behind the wall of trees and the sun had begun to peak over the horizon. The man stood tall, bare chest faced away from the sun. In the grass, a well-tanned, sleek, naked body lay curled around the shirt which he had been wearing, her deep blue eyes looking up at him with a look of complete satisfation. With his pants zipped up, the man ran his hand through his hair, taking in a breath of the fresh morning air and - more importantly - the sex.

He glanced back at her, looking over her bare frame with a hungry look, but he'd already gotten his fill for the time-being, and he needed to head home. He rested his hands on his sides, looking out to the tops of the trees. "Tyro," the girl murmured, "come lay down with me. I don't want to go home." The dark-haired man considered it for a moment. He turned to her, snatching up the hoodie she had worn that was now resting about three feet from her. He clutched it in his fists, bringing it to his face to smell, and then he smiled.

"You dirty little cat," he laughed quietly. "I know exactly why you don't want to go home. I must've done you really good, hm?" Tyro shook his head, turning towards the forest again as she snorted. "Ha ha. I may have been at your mercy for a while, but I can still kick your ass. Go ahead and try me." He looked back at her and growled, "I've tried you. I've tried you more times than I can count. How long ago did we meet, Leah?" He shook his head then, tossing her hoodie a bit nearer to her. She sat up, and he cast his eyes shiftily her way, taking in every inch of skin he could see before she adorned her dress.

She pulled her braids from the folds of the cloth, letting the hair fall onto her knees as she stared up at Tyro, her blue eyes holding in them a bit of something dark and violent. "You know..." she began, gritting her teeth a bit, "I just noticed you aren't wearing your leash." Tyro turned back towards her immediately, his eyes burning fiercely. Her face lit up with a thoroughly entertained smirk, and she feigned hurt. "You didn't like my gift? You can I both know you like it a bit rough. How can I make you my bitch if you're never wearing my present?"

He waved her off and shook his head, as though trying to deny it, but he could feel his heart beginning to beat a bit faster just at the thought of having her own him. She was a violent, kinky bitch, that was for sure, and he loved the hell out of her for it. "Tell you what," he cooed, walking a bit closer to her and holding out his hand to request his shirt back from her. "You come over to my house tonight. I've got some money, we can go get ourselves a hotel room and, ah... see what comes of it."

Her eyes flickered and she handed him his shirt, replying with her rosy lips curved into a smile, "That sounds marvelous. I'll be over at ten." She paused, then added, "Oh, and don't forget your birthday's tomorrow... I have a very, very special surprise for you." Tyro laughed softly and felt a chill run up his spine. He reponded with a low growl, "That sounds fantastic, babe. Seeya then. Bring something nice we can play with, alright?" With that, the man pulled his shirt over his head and strode off back through the forest.