we're the death we choose to keep.
A Vincenz/Edward smutshot written as the second half of a commision for my dear friend (and the owner of Vincenz) Nettle.
The graveyard is near silent. Still and peaceful. Exactly the place one would expect to find eternal rest. Eternal peace. Peace being interrupted by one man. One resurrectionist, to be exact. Edward Gore finds himself disturbing a fresh grave in the dead of the night because of two reasons. One, he needs money, and bodies pay the best out of all the options a man such as him has to keep food on the table in this city; and two, Neumann needs a new corpse.
The damn thing is almost completely unearthed, only a thin layer of soil and the coffin lid left between him and enough profit to cover rent for the month and food the next couple weeks. Of course, this is when he hears an undignified, disgruntled sound from behind him. Ed almost draws his blade. Almost jumps on whoever disturbed him without prejudice or quarter, but he gets a glimpse of who it is before he does so.
“What on earth….. are you doing here?!” he exclaims, as much as a man with only half working vocal cords can, wildly confused as to why his gentleman customer is out here in a deadyard this late at night.
Neumann looks at him somewhere between frustration, anger, and interest. Two out of the three of these are common expressions on his face when they interact. Edward has that effect on people. “I was here to get that body, the one you’re currently knelt on.”
“No can do, sweetheart. He’s….. gonna be…. my paycheck for the next two….. weeks. I can’t part with him for anything…. less than that.” Ed replies, dusting himself off. “So…. unless you’re buying…..” Vincenz grimaces, eyeing the coffin, the dirt, Ed. He’s almost….. sizing him up. As if trying to decide if he can take him in a fight, take the body in a fight. He shakes his head, indicating that no, he isn’t buying. “Well then, sweetheart, it…. seems you’re just…. in my way.”
But she’s not in his way, she’s suddenly in the grave next to him, pushing him down. “Look, I’m sorry Gore, but-“ there’s a grunt as his belt slides off, “I really need this corpse.” She reaches for him, belt in hand, presumably to tie and leave him, but Ed dodges, skitters sideways across the coffin, reaching for his shovel.
“Come on….. Neumann, don’t….. do this. You’re my second best… customer, we can work…. something out!” And, of course, she’s Ed’s crush. A beautiful man, a handsome girl, and oh so skilled with a blade. He hasn’t seen her in action, of course, but he’s seen the aftermath, reburying bodies that have been so expertly torn apart. He’d adore being able to watch him work some day. None of this stops him from brandishing the shovel at her though, eyes wide and full of adrenaline, staring up at him above. Above, and now holding the belt in one hand, and a knife in the other. Ed opens his mouth to speak, and decides not to bother, swinging the shovel at her ankles.
Misses one and clips the side of the other, not sending him crashing down as Edward had hoped, but stumbling into the side wall of the grave, dirt raining down onto Ed. She sputters, swinging blindly, blade meeting the shovel, causing the knife to clatter out of her hand and down between the coffin and the dirt, lost to them both.
“You bastard!” Vince whisper-cries, launching forward and landing atop Edward, flattening him to the coffin, his face smacking into wood, no doubt leaving a bruise to remember the night by. Having warm weight pressed to his back, having leather find its way around his throat, Ed can’t push down the memories of the day he almost died, until he hears Vince curse under her breath. Until he feels her shift backwards off of him, positioning herself on his legs, keeping him in place. It’s so different from that night. Not the cold flash of metal against his skin, nor the stiff hand over his mouth.
He’s utterly caught, trapped with the belt around his neck, cinched tight, covering the scar, digging into the flesh on either side. Ed should be terrified, should be bucking horribly, but…. It’s Vince and he doesn’t think he could ever be fully scared of her. She yanks on the other end of the belt, and Ed can’t do anything but arch backward, head falling back, eyes meeting hers where she’s knelt on top of his legs.
“Are you going to let me leave with it? Or do I need to choke you out so I can take him out from under your unconscious body?” She asks, punctuating it with another tug. Ed’s mouth falls open to answer, but nothing comes, throat too close to crushed for him to be able to speak. Instead, he wriggles, until he can press his ass back against her crotch, rubbing, still staring into her eyes. A third option.
“You can’t possibly be thinking about a fuck right now?” Vince asks, incredulous. “There’s no way!” But Edward can feel her half-hardness when he presses back. Can feel the way her prick perks up, interested. He leans back, firmer, causing her to gasp, to let the belt go the slightest bit slack. He gasps in a new burst of air.
“Can tell you want it…. Come on anatomist….” Ed presses back a little more insistently, grinding back. “Both get…. Some fun….” If she pushes him away, he’ll leave it be, but until then, Ed intends to enjoy what he can. He works his trousers down to the knee, baring ass and cunt, exposing them to the cool night air. “Want it? Nice….. and warm for you….”
He huffs, unable to deny that he does want it. Does want Edward, especially with the way he’s rutting against Ed’s bare sex already. “Fine! Yes, I want it. Want you.”
“Take it…. then…” he gasps out, pressing closer back against Vince, against her warm length, so different from the cool air of the graveyard.
She can’t deny it, deny her own wants, or his, taking hold of her prick and stroking it to full hardness, still held close to him. Ed can feel her moving against him, can feel the tip of her cock nudging against him, teasing at the folds of his cunt, making him lose his mind. He needs her so dearly, needs to feel her in him, pushes back against her, trying to get them closer still.
Finally, Vince presses inside, just the tip to start, giving little shallow thrusts, building up, and relishing in feeling Ed’s tight heat around her, even just this small bit of her. Edward whines, looking back at her, needy. He bucks back, cunt swallowing half Vincenz’ length, and causing her grip on the belt to tighten, ripping a broken moan from Ed’s throat. He shoves his ass back further, taking more of Vince in, shaking with how good it feels. One hand moves to his clit, leaving his torso held up only by one arm and Vince’s belt around his neck, cutting down on his air in a delicious way. His cunt clenches as he keeps moving, fucking himself back on Vince.
A moan of her own slips out, as she begins meeting his motions with thrusts of her own, hips rolling into his tight wet warmth, the hand not holding his makeshift leash reaches forward, pinching one nipple, almost covering Ed’s small breast. He near writhes, arching in her hold, a whimper creaking out as he loses the last air in his lungs.
Even still, Ed presses forward, shoving neck against leather, feeling it dig in, feeling it cut off blood flow. A lightheaded feeling grows as Vince plays with his nipple, as he plays with is own clit, until he flies over the edge, trembling as he cums on Vince’s cock, getting dangerously close to passing out.
She pinches him, pulling him back, and lets up on the belt, allowing Edward to suck in gasps of air. Thrusting, Ed’s hips rolling back to meet here, despite the shocks of overstimulation that rock through him. They move in a sweaty, intertwined mass, gasping and moaning like the dead risen, the only sound floating through the dark church yard. She leans in, mouthing at the nape of Ed’s neck, teeth grazing over sensitive skin, before sucking a bruise, half hidden by his hairline. He gasps, tilting his head as much as he can in the makeshift leash, trying to give better access for Vince to do as she pleases. Ed’s rewarded by the whole back of his neck being covered in bites and bruises, little hickeys combining to be one conglomeration of lust across the pale skin.
Vincenz speeds up, thrusts getting more frantic, her breath hot on the back of his neck. “Close… Edds, ‘m close–”
“Inside– you can– Please!” Ed fights to get the words out, clenching around her, trying to get her closer to him, keep her inside. Vince empties into him with a muffed groan, flesh between her teeth helping quiet the cry. Edward whines below her, oh so pleased, and only the slightest bit annoyed by the fact he’ll have to clean cum out of his trousers later. He clenches around her, trying to wring the rest of her pleasure free, trying to make her feel the best he can. The belt has long since gone limp around his neck, he could have pulled it loose and thrown it to the ground any time he wished, and when Vince relaxes, drapes herself over his back, Ed does just that. Looking back at her with a dopey smile on his face. “Good for you?”
“Yeah creep, was good for me.” Vince looks at him almost fond, and relaxes more heavily on him, snuggling into Ed’s shoulder.
While she basks in the afterglow, Ed worms his fingers under the lid of the coffin, testing how much give there is. To his pleasant surprise, it hadn’t been nailed properly shut, and the metal pulls up easy.
“V-nce… you’re squashing me…” He wriggles a tad, until Vincenz rolls off him, huffing a sigh. He manages to get his trousers up without arousing any suspicion, and smiles at Vince, the picture of innocence. If innocence were a weirdo creep of a grave robber. Before either of them can say anything else, Edward rips the coffin lid off, sending both of them sliding into the earthen wall. He vaults over the wooden lid, looping an arm under the cadaver’s armpits, and yanking it free.
Yes! He mentally crows, seeing the corpse is still in one piece.
Edward scrabbles out of the grave, dragging the body behind him, trousers still a mess. He turns back and blows a kiss at Vincenz, before disappearing into the dark of the night, leaving her and the open grave behind.
“That little shit!” She says, to the vacant dead, to the still night, before hauling herself to her feet and crawling out the grave herself. She supposes she’ll have to pony up the money, after finding him later, and hope he still has the damned corpse.
The next morning, when she wanders out of bed, Vince finds a note set over the kettle.
She rolls her eyes, expecting some juvenile prank, or inconvenience, but instead what she finds is the corpse from last night, the one they’d fought over, laid out perfectly on her table. Another note sits atop him.
"The house is reeking blood!"
