𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

.

Kinda bothered Jack how easy killin' Grandma had been in the end.

Both the boys outside owed him on bets that their shit wage and gambling habits wouldn't pay them back in months. Coupla nudges and write offs from Jack got 'em packin' out quick and quiet.

Jack'd been frisked so deep his balls tingled going into Grandmas. Except, Lil' Sally working the books were still stuck on Jack the Big Bad fuckin' Wolf, so one toothy grin and she handed over the dinky little pistol Grandma let her keep in the desk, trembling like a pretty little mouse all the while.

Jack shot Grandma in the throat. Fuck knew what expression he had on beneath that holograph mask, but he can't have expected it seeing as he was halfway to shoutin' where Red was at Jack before the bullet cut him dead.

Turned out the Grandma behind the mask was nothing but an old geezer with a too-red nose and too-few teeth jutting out his gums. Jack ripped a couple out for keeps then shoved the guy in his own dresser. Out of the way, clean as, leaving Jack alone in the big room with nothing but a suit his size, a holograph mask, and a few damn good ideas.

"End of the line, Grandma," Jack murmured, turning the mask over in his hands. A thrill of potential tingled his veins. "I'm the big bad fuckin' wolf now."

*

Red knocked just as Jack got settled on the sofa, sprawled out with his legs wide and his arms slung across the leather back. Right comfy. Honestly, Jack didn't think he'd ever sat on something so comfy his entire life, and that was even with this spring jutting into his ass.

Damn heaven, and if he played it right, dinner was about to crawl into his lap.

Jack coughed, forcing all that shit in his lungs to colour his voice. "Come in, Little Red. Door's open."

Whining hinges cut past the slow thud of bass Jack had coming out the speakers set in the walls, almost like a slice of silver across the crimson neon lights. His blood was thick with drink, the back of his throat still numb with drip, and the buzz scratching the inside of his skull was a little like bliss.

And dinner looked like sin in a crimson hoodie and not much else.

Jack let a growl roll through the back of his throat, wetting his lips beneath the holo-mask. It showed a front of scrolling blackness to Red, broken only by violent clashes of teeth.

Truth was, Jack had wound up down in the Sticks 'cause violence ran his veins grey as this fire-scarred husk. Every time he fucked up, he got chased out the sector with energy rifles trained on his skull, blood drenching his hands and smeared across his face. Down and down and fuckin' down until the work was finally enough to gorge the wolf gnawing at his skull for long enough to function.

Function that way at least. All the girls would tell you every other way, he was a fuck-faced mess of jealousy and anger and despair.

'Cause Jack wasn't good at anything but smackin' people around and making wives into widows, but finally, finally, out here in the gutterstuck ramshackle of this seething slum, he'd found the place where being the Big Bad Wolf got you an empire.

That and the white hot rage that seethed in your chest seeing your little fox with a red hood and snapping teeth right about to break.

Now what better way to christen it but with a splash of crimson bliss.

Red stopped about four foot back from the couch, right beneath a flickering bar of scarlet striking a line between an iron-frame arch. Crimson stockings tip-toed up his skinny legs and bunched around the toes he curled into the ratted shag rug. The whole of him was like a column of blood ready to collapse ruin onto cream perfection.

The seam of these tight slacks cut into Jack's balls as he shifted his legs wider. Caned, but he'd get 'em off soon enough and let his cock grinding against the trap of this waistband breathe right before something hotter and wetter swallowed it up.

All of it right about perfect except for the way the whites of Red's eyes showed so harsh, and he panted sharp breaths out his cute lil' nose. Not so much the fear, but the vague stir of wrong with how much Jack liked it.

Fuck knew he'd been told that enough. How wrong, wrong, wrong it was liking that fear.

Jack crooked his finger to Red. "You gonna come here or what?"

Red took half a step forward then paused. Maybe some face went with his words, but seeing that would mean Jack dragging his eyes from the slick point of Red's toes at the tip of that fishnet sheathe. Delicious. Literally just mouth-watering. Jack shifted, tilting his hips to adjust the strain of his cock against these tight slacks. Red's rasping words pulsed something hot through Jack's gut.

"Your shoes don't really match that suit, Grandma."

"Sure, but they're better if I wanna kick someone's skull in, huh?"

Red crept closer, toes sinking into the cream pile. Step by step until they stood delicate between Jack's heavy boots.

"Your voice sounds kinda rough, Grandma."

"Better to tell you how fuckin' hot you look, sweetheart."

Red stepped around Jack's leg, all pretty and light, like. Crawled up onto the wide sofa like a cat, and brushed his fingers against Jack's shoulder. So damn little, but his presence there was like a weight, and Jack tipped his head back. Hard breaths through his nose while that hot knot of want made a mess of his gut.

Crimson tipped Red's fingers, same as the thick crimson sleeves that shrouded most of his hands.

"Your suit's a bit tight round your shoulders too, Grandma."

"Been working out, baby. All the better to grab you with."

A giggle spilled from Red's lips. Tiny, hoarse with smoke and screaming, and Jack groaned behind the holo-mask. Red swung one of his legs over Jack's lap, hands sliding up his chest like he dug for each cut contour of muscle in Jack's chest. Had them pretty bruises all around his bare throat, a choker of black before the yellowed paleness of his skin dripped cream beneath the crimson collar.

"When did you skin get so smooth, Grandma."

"Can't be looking so withered to be worth your tongue on it, huh?"

Jack grabbed his waist. Tight. Felt like his fingers near met in the middle, and it'd only take Red breathing in deep to get there. His heart pounded. Hard. So damn hard like it wanted a bite of Red just as much as Jack did.

And he did. His cock so hard it hurt, and that delicate curve of Red's hips hidden beneath thick crimson tearing at his breath.

"I don't remember your hands being this big, Grandma."

"Maybe I ain't used them right yet, Red. Makes 'em better to hold you down with."

Them huffing breaths chasing out of Red's chapped lips weren't like the last ones, not entirely. Weren't nothing wrong about the way those ones got Jack's blood electric in his veins. Red's hands slipped down Jack's shirt, neat little fingers plucking buttons loose and baring Jack's white chest. Each little brush of skin against skin made scarlet heat.

Then Red's fingers popped the button on the slacks. His big fox eyes glinted. A pouty little grin, full of those snapping teeth sunk into his lip. It crooked the very bottom of those scars slicing up his face, same ones that stood out like white lightning against the flush darkening his hollow cheeks.

Really was something else. Beautiful. Like just—just beautiful enough to stop Jack's heart. Couldn't drag a damn breath into his lungs, sweat gathering in the tight space beneath the mask. On his throat and his cheeks and catching in his hair.

Red tugged off Jack's holomask, the devil in his pretty dark eyes, and the second cool air hit Jack's heated face, Red's hand closed around his cock.

"My, Grandma, what a big cock you have."

And what was left to say?

Jack hauled Red off his lap and slammed him back into the sofa. Exhilaration flushed that sweet face, a moan bursting past his full lips. Thick crimson fabric bunched around his waist, baring a tight stomach and narrow hips, all spread pretty wide to bare the way those crimson panties stuck taut to his straining cock.

"Yeah, sweetheart," Jack growled. "All the better to fuck you with."

Something about the words had Little Red just about screaming, and tearing free crimson lace, Jack ate him whole.

fin