transemacabre | Repo!fic onslaught

I decided to gather together and edit all the fics I've written so far for the Repo! Kink Meme. They're all rated M for Mature Content, and I'd like to note that since these were all written for a kink meme, they may contain content that some may find unsettling. Remember that what does it for someone else will not neccesarily do it for you.

He hated that shade of lipstick on her.

Amber pursed her lips. "What's the matter, Graverobber? Cat got your -- tongue?"

He was sitting on the edge of her bed, his fingers exploring her thighs, sliding up to discover her lack of panties. She smirked, and backed up just out of his reach.

Goddamn, he hated that lipstick.

He held up the zydrate gun and dangled it like a toy. "You haven't been a very good girl, Miss Sweet."

She pouted and made to straddle his lap. He leaned back, keeping the zydrate gun out of her grasp, until Amber's body was pressed against his own, her body heat warming him. He stroked her dark hair, and then caressed her neck until he felt her pulse.

Amber licked her lips. He liked the look in her eyes -- jaded, knowing, hungry. He kissed her throat.

She slid down easily onto him. He groaned at the sensation. Amber wrapped her arms around his shoulders, rocking into him. He wondered through a haze of pleasure whether this was how it felt to be a woman, to be fucked like a woman, a weight pressing down onto him. He clutched at her hair, and kissed her until that fucking lipstick was smeared across her lips, staining his own lips the same "fuck-me-please, I-want-it-hard" color as hers.

"Admit it, Graverobber," Amber hissed. "I'm still the wildest ride you've ever had."

Her hand snaked down and stole the zydrate gun.

"I think I'm sick," Shilo said softly.

Graverobber set his coffee on the table. "Sick?" he repeated. "Why do you think that?"

Shilo sat down next to him, her hands twisting nervously. Her hair had grown back in the year since her father's death; it was now to her shoulders, and softer and curlier than the wig had ever been. "I... I've been feeling sick lately. Weak. And hungry, but I can't stand to actually eat."

Not that Shilo liked to eat anyway. She had the finicky appetite of someone raised on home-cooked meals with a little something extra fed to her by her loving daddy. "Sounds like a stomach bug," he told her, and ruffled her hair. "Nothing to be worried about."

But Graverobber started worrying when the 'bug' didn't go away. He'd come home in the morning, slip in the house through the fireplace (how quickly one became accoustomed to coming and going in Repo Man's home), and find breakfast waiting for him, Shilo picking at her bowl unenthusiatically. Her feet hurt. Her fingers hurt. She woke him in the night thrashing, her legs spasming. As he rubbed the muscles, tight as guitar strings, something cold settled in his chest and grew. He knew that her 'blood disease' had been her crazy psychodaddy's doing, but it was possible that she really had inherited something from her mother. He cursed softly. It wasn't like Graverobber could take her to the local doctor and sit in the waiting room twiddling his thumbs. He'd almost made up his mind to take her to the emergency room when he remembered something. He lept from bed and ran to the bathroom.

Shilo padded after him. "What are you doing?" she asked as he dug through the cabinet.

He pulled out a box of sanitary items. "It's full." Graverobber showed her the box. "When was the last time you used these?"

Shilo frowned. "I-I don't remember." She shrugged. "Sometimes I wouldn't get them for months when I was younger. I thought it was normal."

Graverobber smacked himself on the forehead. "Oh, crap." At Shilo's worried look he laughed and said, "Don't worry. I'll bring you something tomorrow. Try to sit tight till I get back."

True to his word, Graverobber reappeared with a small box a few hours later. "I need you to pee on this," he said, holding up a strip. Shilo made a face but went into the bathroom. Five minutes passed. Graverobber paced back and forth outside the door. Finally he rapped at the door. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," replied Shilo. "I can't tell what the two lines mean."

Graverobber looked down at his own hands to see the box with a cheerful illustration on the outside of teddy bears and words that said ONE LINE -- NOT PREGNANT. TWO LINES -- PREGNANT. "I'm coming in," he said, and pushed the door open.

Shilo was sitting crosslegged on the floor. He wasn't sure whether to say "Congratulations" or "I'm sorry" or "Oh, fuck", so he just held up the box. She looked at it, then back down at the strip, then back at it. Then she sprang to her feet and crushed herself against him. Graverobber clutched her close as Shilo made a sound halfway between a sob and laughter. Shit, what had he done. Shit shit shit.

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly as Shilo sank to her feet. He gathered her into his arms. "I'm here. It's okay. I'm not leaving you."

It was several minutes before Shilo had enough of a grip on herself to say, "It's real isn't it. We're really having a baby." She looked down at her flat tummy. He couldn't help looking down, too. It seemed ridiculous that something that was one-half of each of them was in there, tiny fingers and electricity sparking in it's little brain and everything.

"Take another one to be sure," Graverobber told her, producing another strip from his pocket.

A half-hour later, Graverobber had enough strips to make a mobile for their baby's cradle out of them. Their baby. He felt light-headed. Shilo, on the other hand, looked better than she had in weeks. She'd forced down a bowl of soup and was digging through her stuff for baggier clothes. He dropped the strips into the trash. How were they even going to have this baby, much less raise it? He glanced at Shilo, who was holding up blankets, probably mentally wrapping each one around a little bundle of graverobbing joy. Logically, he knew that he should probably convince her to abort it, but the little bugger had survived all that poison dear daddy Nathan had put in her system, not to mention all the smog and chemicals he'd inhaled over the years, much less what was in the air, that it seemed like a shame to kill it now. It was a survivor already.

The next morning, Graverobber gave her some money and Shilo set out to buy books and baby supplies. He hated to send her alone, but his contacts were useless for that sort of stuff, and his face was too notorious to be showing around town looking for pacifiers and booties. He occupied himself by cleaning out Nathan's room and venturing up to the attic to find Shilo's cradle. They'd been living in Shilo's room (she found it hard to go into her father's room) and after some deliberation, he cleaned the cradle and put it in their room. The kid could sleep with them for a few months.

Shilo returned with an armload of bags and a healthy glow. "We don't know if it's a boy or a girl," she chattered as she lifted out each purchase and held it up, "so I got some of everything." Graverobber nodded at each toy, but he wasn't really seeing any of it. It was weeks before it started feeling real, when Shilo rounded out and her hair got longer and curlier.

They were sitting in bed one evening, eating takeout, and enjoying their time together before he left to go to work. Shilo was debating names. "I've got twenty girl's names picked out," she said, "but I can't think of any boy's names I like."

Graverobber twisted a noodle around a chopstick. "What about Erik?"

"Erik? Why Erik?" Shilo looked at him curiously.

"It's a family name," he told her.

"You told me you didn't have any family," Shilo said slowly, a knowing look in her eyes.

He shrugged. "If you don't like it, that's okay--"

She kissed him. "I do like it," Shilo said.

He came home one night two months later to hear soft crying in the living room. "Shilo!" Graverobber called, bursting into the room. "Shilo! What's wrong?"

Shilo was curled in a chair, her hands cradling her belly. "My water broke," she told him. She was shaking. "I didn't have any way to-- oww!" She writhed, almost falling off the chair. Graverobber picked her up and carried her to their bedroom, putting her in her bed, smoothing down her hair.

"You gotta breathe for me," he told her. "I'm going to run and get help. Just keep breathing."

"Hurry," Shilo panted. "They're not far apart anymore."

He raced down the alleys, climbing up fire escapes and darting through abandoned buildings. Within minutes he was pounding on a filthy door in a half-empty tenement. "Carson!" he roared. "Carson, get your wife! Now!"

The door cracked open, and a pale, frightened face peered at him from behind a chain. "G-graverobber? What are y--"

"Get your wife!" Graverobber repeated, letting the tension show in his voice. Carson owed him, goddamnit. His wife delivered half the babies born to scalpel sluts in this neighborhood, a half-mad witchwoman from an island somewhere. Carson disappeared and a moment later the door unlatched, and Emilie stepped out. She was a regal woman almost as tall as Graverobber, and he doubted she'd ever been afraid in her life. She followed him silently back to the house, displaying her surprise at the size of Shilo's home only momentarily. Probably thought Shilo was having it in a dumpster somewhere, Graverobber thought to himself, trying to ignore the knowledge that if Nathan hadn't left Shilo everything he owned, then she probably would have.

Emilie sent him to find some scissors and disinfectant, and by the time Graverobber returned, Shilo's shrieks were reverberating down the street. He had a sudden fear that Emilie was murdering her in there, and burst into the bedroom to find Emilie tying off a cord. Shilo was sprawled over the pillows, as though her head was too heavy to lift. He didn't hear a baby crying. Everything dropped from his hands.

Emilie looked up at him. "You brought the scissors, good," she said, motioning him over. Graverobber hesitated; he'd never been squeamish around the dead but if it was his kid's corpse over there he didn't really want to know. Then he heard a soft hiccuping sound that wasn't coming from one of the two women. He picked up the scissors and crept closer. A bundle of bloodstained white sheets was wiggling on the other side of Shilo. Graverobber tore his eyes away long enough to cut the cord on Shilo's side, as Emilie instructed.

Shilo licked her lips. "Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked.

Graverobber tentatively pulled open the sheets, counting ten toes and one head and -- "It's a boy," he told Shilo. She sighed and smiled.

"Erik."

Emilie stood up, smoothed down her dress, told Graverobber to bury the placenta, and then departed. He found out later she'd stolen one of Shilo's necklaces, but he'd forgotten to pay her anyway so he let it slide. Wasn't like Shilo cared much. She insisted he prop her up so she could hold Erik and coo over him. "He's so tiny and red," Shilo marveled.

Graverobber earnestly hoped the kid got better looking as time went on. He placed a finger in Erik's hand and watched the tiny fingers grip him.

Shilo decided she must've done something right in a past life, because she got the perfect baby. Erik laughed and sat up and rolled over right on time, and only spat up on his father.

They'd been in the house three days before they found Repo Man's room. Shilo ran, her hands clasped over her mouth, leaving Graverobber the unenviable task of clearing out the tools of Nathan's trade. It made him queasy to touch the scalpels and the restraining chair, but he got good money for the stuff on the back-alley surgery market. He gave the money to Shilo, so the electricity and water stayed on, and everyone was happy.

Graverobber didn't spend every day at Shilo's house, but he was there often enough that she knew the rhythm of his footsteps as he came and went. Even the way all the food had a slightly burnt flavor when he cooked became comforting to her. Graverobber usually crept in about dawn and fell asleep in a corner of Shilo's room. At first she tried to convince him to stay in Nathan's room or sleep in the bed with her, but he shrugged it off, saying that her floor was nowhere near the worst place he'd ever slept. The truth was Graverobber was creeped out by the thought of sleeping in Nathan's room or touching any of his stuff anymore than was neccesary. As for sleeping with Shilo... the kid was so trusting it was touching.

Shilo asked him to take down some of Marni's holograms for her, which he agreed to with some relief. He didn't like prowling around while her dead mother's eyes followed him from room to room in this morgue of a house. Graverobber got an early start, leaving Shilo peacefully sleeping in her room, and he'd already taken down five when he heard her walking around upstairs. The floorboard squeaks got louder. He looked up to see Shilo standing at the top of the stairs, blinking sleep from her eyes. She smiled at him.

He gestured grandly at the bare wall. "I'm thinking we could paint a giant peace sign on it," Graverobber told her. "Or maybe a mural with the Largos as the Three Wise Men. It is almost Christmas."

Shilo laughed and said, "You're ruining your cred, Your Gothness." She stepped down on the first step, then paused and stared at the banister thoughtfully. "You know, I never slid down this when I was a kid. Dad would've had a heart attack." She ran her hand over the wood.

Graverobber arched a brow at her. "Why not? It's yours. You can do whatever you want."

Shilo giggled softly, then slung a leg over it, balanced herself, and then slid about ten inches. Graverobber laughed, and she glared at him fiercely. "Hey, it's my first time! Cut me some slack." She eased down another few inches, then boldy slid down the entire way. Her feet had barely touched the floor before he snatched her up, tossing her over his shoulder caveman-style. Shilo yelped and playfully thumped his back with her fists as he carried her through the room.

"I'm thinking Amber will be holding the myrrh," Graverobber mused, swinging around so Shilo could see the wall. "I can't imagine her willingly giving up any gold. Or maybe she could be holding a vial of zydrate..."

He could feel Shilo laughing against his shoulder. "Put me down!" she ordered, and when he didn't, she tickled his side. Graverobber involuntarily jumped and turned in circles. "Oh," Shilo said. "Now I know what the great Graverobber's weakness is! He's ticklish!"

Her fingers teased at him again, and he started laughing from the ridiculousness of it all as much as the tickling, him spinning Shilo around her living room, her legs kicking in the air, her fingers ghosting at his side. Neither of them had had nearly enough frivolity in their lives. By the time Graverobber set her on the floor, they were both half-gasping, half-laughing. He went to tickle Shilo's underarm, but she twisted just so, and his hand brushed against an erect nipple.

The sensation went right to his groin. Her cheeks pinked, and she batted him away, still giggling. Graverobber decided to let it go, and was turning from her when Shilo grabbed his arm. "Thanks for helping me," she said. "With the house, I mean. You can stay as long as you'd like. You will stay, right?"

Graverobber had a lot of practice at not planning more than a week or two ahead. The last person he'd become attached to had been a rentboy called Torli who'd shared food with him back when he was a kid and refused to ever let him turn tricks to pay for it. Torli had talked about leaving, living on the beaches off his guitar and not his body. He'd seemed very worldly and brave to a young Graverobber. Of course, Torli had died of a massive OD, so what the fuck did he know. Graverobber knew that one day he'd get slow, or overconfident, and someone would get him. Whether it was a Largo goon or some crazed addict, it didn't really matter. One night, he wouldn't come home, and Shilo would be more alone than ever. "Yeah, kid. Sure. I'll stay." He licked his lips. They suddenly felt very dry.

Shilo laid her head against his chest. She felt very warm, and Graverobber could feel her breasts pressed against him. He gently rubbed her neck with his hand. "I want you to stay," she mumbled. "I feel better when you're around." He was all ready with a pithy reply when she looked up at him, her lips very close to his. He had an impulse to kiss her, but he pulled back, not wanting to scare her. Shilo's hand touched his neck, and she closed the distance between them, the touch of her lips almost imperceptible. Graverobber came after her for more, feeling her skin prickle under his touch as he kissed her, running his hands from the back of her neck to her throat and to her cheeks. Shilo wrapped her arms around his neck, and he took that as an invitation to pick her up and sit her on the kitchen table, pressing between her legs, dripping kisses into her mouth. Her hands tangled in his hair. Shilo smelled so good.

She pulled back, shaking as he kissed her neck. With some effort, he did as well. Her shaking was turning into trembling and Graverobber didn't find that very titilating. "I'm sorry," she said softly, as though afraid he'd be mad at her.

He brushed a thumb against her cheek. "S'okay. You didn't do anything wrong." Graverobber couldn't resist placing a last kiss to her forehead. He chuckled low in his throat. "If anything, you should be mad at me."

Shilo frowned, her lips a pretty round 'o'. "You di-"

He patted her lightly on her leg. "I'll, uh, I'll be back later. If you want me to."

At some point he'd pulled down Shilo's sleeve, and she tugged it back up to her shoulder. "I do. Want you. To, I mean."