EXAmy Night

Het
PG-13
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Chapter 1

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Night. The full moon sows its dim, pale, mysterious and ghostly light onto the earth, creating false shadows. Cowardly, small stars are scattered across the black, ominous tar of heaven, like small splashes of liquid silver on a dried peel of an inky ocean. The daytime summer heat was replaced by the chilly cool of the night. The darkness was so thick that it seemed that you could feel it, touch it, bite it off. The pitiful, dead, orange light of street lamps running along the dirty, gray streets of a small, boring town, through the stinking exhaust gases of cars and factories, poor communication system and other foul-smelling phenomena of the inhabited environment. Rarely where is the light still burning in the windows of the four- and five-story buildings so frequent in this city, the car seldom screeched, hurrying to take their owners home more quickly. In the narrow, smelly streets not a soul. Except for one, black, like this night, secret, like the light of the moon, and aggressive, like a wolf, who rabies sick. He wandered through the deserted streets all alone and enjoyed the oppressive, resonant silence. He adored this time; at night, a stinking, cramped and noisy, dusty city seems to be dying out, filled with the spirit of the afterlife, its impenetrable darkness, coolness and dampness. All that spoiled a good impression of the night city is its unbearable stench. The stench of life, its activities, its inventions. Neither day nor night could save him from this suffocating smell that infuriated with rage, so his nose was always tied with a bandage with a carbon filter. In his gilded buckles on the straps of sneakers reflected the light of headlights and lanterns. Under the orange lanterns, his needles seemed dark maroon, and in darkness only a black silhouette and a pair of sinister, glowing with a ghostly hellish light, blood-red dots in the depths of his impenetrable black eyes were visible. A creature of hell that was once the usual hedgehog, the true god of death, he could get out of here long ago, create his own world, full of chaos and destruction, pain and death, but remained in this bottom for her sake. The sight of her, so innocent and in love with madness, something stirred in his hardened, mired in darkness soul. He passionately wanted to kill her, gut, tear apart, but he could not. Not having anger at the stupid pink hedgehog-girl, he could not raise his hand to her. Stopping abruptly, as if remembering something, the blue hedgehog abruptly spun on his heel and headed back with quick, stern steps. He did not run: something was in speed that covered him headlong, some kind of feeling that, filling him entirely, could arouse him to new bloodshed. And he did not need this. Otherwise, she will begin to weep over the tortured, disfigured by various mutilated corpses. He could not calmly see her tears, could not indifferently listen to her shallow, breathless, sobbing breath. All this seemed to tear him from the inside, with a vicious wild beast tearing at his chest inside, causing gurgling in the throat. This gurgling, crawling from the abdomen up through the trachea, broke out of the larynx with an atrocious, uterine growl, from which all of them chilled blood and hair stood on end, and began to pour thick, dark red, venous-like blood out of his eyes like bitter tears from an inconsolable widow. He closed his eyes and bared his razor-sharp fangs, he shook his head, chasing off tempting thoughts so as not to accidentally break loose. After all, any feeling fills it entirely. If he succumbs to the thirst for blood and murder, he will not be able to stop. No one can. Except Amy. A weak, vulnerable girl became a muzzle, a collar and a leash for a bloody god. Defenseless and weak, she became the invulnerable mistress for the Sower of Death and the Destroyer, a skilled painter-killer and the Ripper, a meat grinder and a thug, for. Snapping his fangs, for some time the hedgehog looked at the gloomy, unlit, fourth entrance of the shabby four-story building in which Amy Rose lived with a slight bitterness. Taking the keys out of the deep pockets of his jeans, Sonic slowly brought the magnetic plate to the intercom. The disgusting, wheezing sound of the speaker signaled that the door was unlocked. With a jerk, he flung open a metal, dark, bluish-gray access door, the hedgehog jumped into the landing. The speaker stopped making its tedious noises, the door banged loudly against its joint and closed tightly. It was black at the entrance, only the blood-red pupils of God were clearly visible against the background of general darkness. But the darkness did not prevent him from seeing, just the colors of the objects became different. Silently, without uttering a rustle, and quickly, as if walking, Sonic rose in shadow over narrow, dirty stairs to the third floor. Passing by the third door on the second floor, whose number was 55, God choked on the thick, tart, salty smell of stagnant urine and the indescribable words, the extremely acidic odor of the old, unwashed body. Even the coal filter could not fully protect the sensitive nose EXE from the stench of an old, miserly neighbor, who drank his whole conscious life, drank everywhere, and dragged into his “hole”. The pungent nose-beating smell caused a wave of pent-up aggression, and Sonic roared deafly, softly. Standing at the door of the fifty-ninth apartment, the hedgehog looked at the door peephole, silently fingering a bunch of keys with his fingers. Inserting a key that looked like a hook into the well, he turned it 180, pulled toward him, his shoulder leaning on the door. Squeaking softly, the door opened and let the hedgehog-like monster enter a small, but well-kept apartment. God quietly closed the door behind him, removed the bandage from his nose, and sneakers from his foots, walked into a tiny room that looked like a closet. A light brown door with frosted glass separating the room from the corridor was ajar; on the right of the same color chiffonier; a blackening mirror hung opposite him; along the wall near the chiffonier there was a two-tier bed; on the left by the wall near the window stood a table and a chair; next to the table — a wooden bookcase with stacks of all sorts of books; on the table is an open notebook with “fantasies”, a pair of blue ballpoint pens, an eraser, a pencil, an opened pencil case with stationery; an old framed glass photo depicting Amy, who was laughing happily, hugging a blue hedgehog, whose eyes were the colors of eternal summer; the frame is smaller, with a silver passport, in which rested a single photograph of Amy the birthday girl; and the third, large, not in the far corner of the table, but in close proximity to the workplace, in a simple frame, is a photograph of the new Sonic. His devilish eyes look straight into the lens with a crazy look, his mouth spread out in a wide, insane, grinning smile, and bloody streams flow down his cheeks. On the canvas of the photo one can see two rusty-brown smeared spots. So strangely, after re-dark his soul, he no longer remembered his former life. Leafing through the albums, EXE hardly remembered the guys depicted in the photos, their names, who they are in this world and how they were associated with the “light” Sonic. Soul Eater blinked, a drop of blood spilled from the corners of his eyes. In the room there was a heady smell of pink hedgehog. From him, the hedgehog pleasantly beat it in his nose, his throat blazed with fire and buzzed, ached in his chest, as if bumblebees were alarmed sitting in it. Amy herself snuffled on the lower tier, her nose buried in a feather pillow, covered with a light, thin blanket. The needles were thrown, one arm slightly hung down. EXE sat on the carpet at the head of the bed in the lotus position, carefully took Amy’s little hand in her palm and began to gently bite her slender fingers. He could do it forever, it gave him even more pleasure than the megalopolis completely extinct from his hands. Having not calculated the power of bite, Sonic accidentally cut his fangs off with tender, supple flesh on the pads of her fingers. Sweet, brackish blood spattered the tongue of the hedgehog-like monster. At first, Soul Eater became agitated, but then bliss came over him and he purred from the resulting buzz. Amy abruptly woken up in pain, she gasped softly. She pulled back her hand, and then, realizing what was the matter, she returned it to its place. For his sake she was ready for anything, even sacrifice herself. Rising up on her elbow, Amy sleepily looked at the black silhouette of her lover, in his bottomless black eyes with blood-red pupils-dots. She stretched out her hands with fingers dark with blood to Sonic’s supposed face. She did not see him in the darkness, but determined his location by the luminous pupils. And she could draw his face even in a dream. Her cold fingers touched his cheek, slowly and gently crawling to her mouth. Amy was a little surprised at the wide smile without a grin, which she felt in total darkness. Usually, her god was gloomy at such moments as a leaden cloud, but now, it seems, he was more elated. Amy ran her fingers over his thin lips, led her hand up, but strong, tough, strong and cold, like a steel one, 's hand wrapped her thin wrist with a bracelet with her sharp fingers, stopping her bloodied fingers near her mouth. His soft lips wrapped around her fingertips. He began to lick her bleeding sores with his rough tongue, rolling his eyes, often breathing and whimpering like a dog. His mouth filled with greedy saliva, he swallowed it with some irritation, along with Amy’s leaked blood. The red substance aroused Soul Eater, he wanted more, but saliva had already done its job. The wounds closed and the EXE was left to suck her slender fingers. When he got bored with this occupation, he slowly pulled them out of his mouth, without unclenching his squeezed lips. With his tongue, he licked bloody stains from his cheeks and wiped away the wet marks with the back of his hand. “Honey…” Amy whispered into the darkness. “Terrible”, answered dully, looking through the hanging window. “No, love”, Amy stood up quietly and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his head. “I became different”, Sonic said quietly, but his voice was not the same. His usual soft baritone was replaced by a coarse, porky, slightly growling and loudly humming hissing. Earlier, smooth, like a flat river, it became ragged, slurred and jerky. Fangs prevented him from speaking. “You’re the same to me”, Amy almost exhaled. The deadly hedgehog snorted, grinning faintly. He knew that was not entirely true. He heard her anxious breathing, her scared heart beating on the ribs. “Don’t be mad”, she whispered in his ear, kissing his temple. “I can’t”, Soul Eater answered colorlessly. “Why?” “I don’t know”. “Do you want?” raising the corners of her lips, asked Amy. “Want. Very”, broken, as if spitting out the words, answered. “To infuriate you?” She asked more because of loyalty, than because of the special enthusiasm. “Do… Don’t,” he replied with difficulty in suppressing his bloody thoughts. “Explain”, Amy didn’t understand his strange inconsistency. “If I get angry…”, began EXE. With a quick movement, he threw her onto the bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, Soul Eater was above her, on all fours like a big dog. The sharp, sharp, exciting smell of fear hit Sonic.EXE’s nostrils, and he let out a deep and contented roar. That’s it, he can no longer suppress his emotions. He may not be able to kill her, but she is all his. Every hair, every cell. He pressed his lips against hers with force. She arched her back and let out a languid, blissful moan. She buried her cold fingers in his thick hair and tried to press his head as close to her as possible. Soul Eater let out a short roar every minute. He was enjoying himself; not with her pain, not with her tears and not with her death, but with her feelings and life, her body. With difficulty tearing himself away from her, breathing heavily, Sonic.EXE stared with dilated pupils into her jade eyes. “…Then I’ll lose this,” he finished the sentence he started.
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