Chapter 62 - 63: Impromptu Affairs I (R18+)

Chapter 62: Chapter 63: Impromptu Affairs I (R18+)

I watched as the rookie medic casually popped another high-potency acid round into Marcus the second the creature tried to twitch.

It was honestly getting pitiful seeing the legendary Queen Leech get cheesed so hard. The grand, immortal father of the t-Virus wasn’t looking very queenly right now; he was reduced to a giant, bubbling heap of pulsing, corroding green flesh and melted parasite jelly on the floor grates.

As a fellow mutated bio-weapon, I almost felt a brief flicker of sympathy for the guy. That sympathy lasted about two seconds, right up until I remembered I was the one who was about to eat the poor blob, and then it evaporated faster than Marcus’s dignity.

Rebecca lowered the launcher, peering into the empty cylinder with a disappointed pout.

"Darn it," she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead with a gore-smeared glove. "I don’t have more of these acid nades."

Sitting on the floor beside her, I slapped my scaly thighs in pure relief. Finally! I was starting to worry I would have to slurp down a puddle of battery acid and shattered dreams for dinner. At least the biomass was still mostly intact. Melted, tenderized, and lightly marinated in industrial chemicals, but intact.

Then I heard the unmistakable metallic clinking of heavy ordnance inside her tactical pouch.

"Well," Rebecca said, her voice taking on that cheerful, slightly unhinged edge I had quickly learned to fear. "I’ve still got plenty of normal explosive nades."

My scaly feet scrambled against the slick iron grating as I nearly slipped in my rush to get up.

NO, WAIT, STOP! DO NOT BLOW UP MY DINNER!

I let out a sharp, urgent barking chuff, the exact sound an oversized dog makes when its owner is about to step on a Lego.

"Hrk! Hrk!"

Rebecca froze with the frag grenade halfway out of her pouch, her hazel eyes going wide as I barreled past her and planted my seven-foot reptilian bulk directly between her and the dying Queen Leech.

I threw my arms out wide, extending my scythe-claws to their full length, and shook my massive head from side to side in a frantic, unmistakable negative.

Then, because I wasn’t entirely sure she was fluent in desperate monster sign language, I pointed one claw at the bubbling heap of leech meat, tapped my gaping reptilian snout, and made an exaggerated slurping gesture with my long, forked tongue for good measure.

Rebecca stared at me for a second, her eyebrows shooting up toward the brim of her cowboy hat.

"You’re gonna eat that?!" she shrieked, wrinkling her nose in pure disgust. "Why are you such a bottomless glutton, Ghosty? That thing is completely repulsive! It’s literally a giant pile of sewer worms and melted slime! I am NOT kissing you if you put that nasty shit in your mouth!"

A second later, her brain finally caught up to the words tumbling out of her mouth.

A brilliant, radiant shade of crimson rushed straight up her neck, painting her cheeks bright red beneath the dried grime.

"Not—not that I want to kiss you!" she stammered frantically, her hands flailing in the air. "I just meant in general! No self-respecting lady is ever going to kiss anyone who eats disgusting swamp trash like that!"

I lowered my claws and gave her a flat, deeply suspicious side-eye. Oh, really? Because twenty minutes ago you were enthusiastically vacuuming my reptilian hemipenis like a certified vacuum cleaner.

Rebecca cleared her throat aggressively, suddenly finding the overhead steam pipes utterly fascinating as she tried to cough away her embarrassment.

Then, the playful defensiveness faded, and a look of genuine medical concern settled over her face.

She stepped closer, reaching out to rest her small palm against my scaled forearm.

"Seriously, Ghosty," she murmured, her voice dropping into a quiet, worried register. "I really don’t think you should eat it. What if that thing parasitizes you from the inside out like it did to James Marcus? I don’t want you turning into a mindless pile of leeches."

She looked up at me with those big, earnest hazel eyes, her fingers gently squeezing my scaly bicep. "Forget about that gross slug. I’ll find you better things to eat, okay? What do you want? Some of those mutant monkeys? More lizard monsters? I can shoot them for you!"

Seeing the prodigy medic look so genuinely stressed about my dietary safety gave me a sudden, warm flutter right in my mutant chest. The girl was literally offering to go on a big-game safari through Umbrella’s black-budget testing grounds just to keep me from getting an upset stomach.

I couldn’t help myself.

I reached down with my massive, clawed hand, hooked my arm around her slender waist, and smoothly hoisted her right up against my armored chest.

"Eep!" Rebecca squeaked as her boots left the metal floor.

Pressed tightly against my scaly abdomen, her breath hitched. Her cheeks flared an even deeper shade of red, and her eyelids fluttered shut on pure instinct. She tilted her chin upward, parting her soft pink lips in obvious, breathless anticipation.

I just hovered there, looking down at her cute, expectant face with an amused rumble vibrating in my chest plates.

Two seconds passed in complete silence.

Not feeling anything touch her mouth, Rebecca cracked one hazel eye open.

"Wait... I thought—you—I mean, aren’t you going to—"

Before she could dig herself into a deeper hole of flustered stammering, I leaned down and completely sealed her mouth with mine.

I pulled her in tight, letting my textured reptilian tongue part her lips and sweep inside, claiming her in a deep, breathless, toe-curling kiss that made her hands drop her weapons and clutch desperately onto my shoulders as her knees turned completely to jelly.

But what had started as a playful tease instantly mutated into something far more dangerous the second my tongue tasted the sweet, intoxicating nectar inside her mouth.

My scaly green arms locked around Rebecca’s waist, and before her boots could even touch the iron floorboards, I backed her up across the catwalk.

CLANG.

Her back slammed against the rusted steel wall of the incinerator room with a heavy, hollow thud. The metallic impact echoed through the cavernous chamber, instantly drowned out by the wet, squelching sounds of our mouths colliding.

"Mmmph?!"

Rebecca’s eyes bulged for half a second as my massive, jaw-split Hunter maw clamped over her lower face. I didn’t give her a single second to process her life choices or object on legal grounds. My long, split reptilian tongue slithered past her soft lips, parting her teeth with zero resistance, and plunged straight into the back of her throat.

SLURRRRP.

The sound of our saliva clashing in the tight space was absurdly loud. My split tongue wrapped around hers like a pair of squirming leeches, tasting the sweet, metallic tang of the Panacea mixed with the faint taste of copper and mint on her palate. I pressed deeper, the tip of my tongue gently prodding against her uvula until she let out a strangled, muffled squeak right into my mouth.

MMMPH... HNNNGH...

Her small hands shot up, pressing flat against my broad, chitin-armored chest. For a moment, her fingers twitched, pushing against my scales as if she were actually going to enforce proper military protocol in an active biohazard zone.

"Mmm... H-Ghosty... wait..." she gasped, breaking the seal of our lips for a fraction of a second just to catch a ragged breath. A long, glistening thread of spit stretched between her bottom lip and my serrated jawline. "We... haah... we can’t... we’re in an incinerator room, you idiot..."

Oh, really? The incinerator room isn’t romantic enough for you, Becca? You wanted candles and a jazz pianist for our post-boss-fight hookup?

I didn’t answer. I just growled, a low, subsonic vibration that hummed straight through my ribs and into her sternum, before diving right back in to devour her mouth.

SCHLICK. SLURP.

My claws slid down her sides, bypassing her leather cowgirl vest, and settled firmly on her hips. Then, with zero hesitation, my hands glided lower, cupping the lower curves of her buttocks. The denim of her ultra-short hot pants was stretched taut over her round, firm ass cheeks, and I palmed them aggressively, my thick scythe-claws digging into the denim fabric with enough pressure to leave deep indentations.

"Ah! Mmmph... ahhh!"

Her token resistance collapsed like a cheap house of cards. The moment my heavy claws squeezed her butt cheeks, lifting her an inch higher off the ground, her arms abandoned my chest and wrapped around my thick, scaly neck.

She didn’t just accept the lift; she actively cooperated. Her bare, smooth legs hooked tightly around my wide reptilian waist, pinning her hips flush against my pelvis.

SCHLUCK.

The friction was instantaneous and agonizingly good. She wasn’t wearing a single stitch of underwear underneath those shredded denim shorts—her panties had been obliterated hours ago during our earlier subterranean escapades. The thin, coarse denim of her shorts was the only boundary left, and as she wrapped her thighs around me, her slick, bare crotch pressed directly against the concrete-hard ten inches of my ribbed reptilian hemipenis.

"Hah... glug... mmph... Ghosty... ahh!"

Rebecca tilted her head back against the rusted steel wall, her throat arching as she let out a series of broken, liquid moans. Her own tongue began wrestling with mine now, flicking nervously at first before eagerly matching my aggressive, sloshing rhythm.

Slurp... squelch... chuu...

Damn, Becca. For a girl who just swore she wouldn’t kiss me if I ate swamp trash, you sure know how to work a joystick.

"Mmph... hah... Ghosty..." she gasped, breaking the seal of our lips for a fraction of a second just to catch her breath.

Every time I bumped my hips forward, grinding the heavy, ribbed bulk of my shaft against her denim-covered pussy, she let out a high-pitched, desperate whimper that echoed off the furnace doors.

I broke the kiss, dragging my split tongue up her jawline, licking away the streaks of dried blood and sweat until I reached her tiny earlobe. I took the soft cartilage between my front teeth, nibbling lightly while my long tongue darted inside her ear canal.

"Ahhh! N-No, don’t—hyuuu... that tickles—ahh!" Rebecca shuddered violently, her fingers digging deep into the scales on the back of my neck. Her hips bucked involuntarily against mine, grinding her wet, un-pantied center straight down onto the ridge of my cock. "Ghosty... you’re... haah... you’re being so rough..."

Rough? Baby, I’m a seven-foot lizard monster in a bio-facility. You’re lucky I’m not using a knife and fork.

I moved my mouth lower, planting heavy, wet hickeys down the side of her pale neck. My teeth grazed her skin, leaving dark red suction marks along her collarbone while my scythe-claws migrated from her ass up to her chest.

My hands completely palmed her breasts over her orange crop top and leather vest. Thanks to the continuous exposure to the Viral Breeding Panacea, her rack had noticeably plumped up, spilling over the sides of her crop top in two ridiculously soft, heavy mounds. I squeezed them wanton, my thick fingers sinking deep into the pliable flesh, molding them through the fabric like warm dough.

"Nnggh... ahh!... Ghosty... please..." Rebecca whimpered, her head rolling side to side against the steel bulkhead. Her small hands left my neck and came down to cover my massive claws, not to push them away, but to press them harder against her own tits. "Ah... it... it feels too good... stop... don’t stop..."

I paused for a second.

My scaly hands relaxed slightly over her chest. I looked down at her, wondering if the sheer physical pressure of a seven-foot B.O.W. gripping her tits like basketballs was actually hurting her. I mean, I wanted to turn her into my personal breeding toy, but I didn’t want to accidentally snap her collarbone before we even got to the main event.

Rebecca felt my claws loosen. She opened her haze-filled hazel eyes, looking up at me with a flushed, panting expression.

For a second, her brain tried to re-assert her superficial tsundere pride. Her face turned a nuclear shade of red, and she scowled, trying to look tough despite the fact that her legs were tightly locked around my waist and her crotch was literally dripping onto my scaly thighs.

"W-What?!" she stammered, her voice squeaking with defensive embarrassment. "Why did you stop?! Don’t... don’t look at me like that, you big perverted freak!"

I stopped because I didn’t want to crush your ribs, you absurd little medic.

Before I could even resume the grope, Rebecca let out an annoyed, flustered huff.

"Fine! If you’re just gonna stand there staring like a stupid, brain-dead reptile..."

With trembling, impatient fingers, she reached down to the front of her leather vest. She unbuttoned the top fasteners with sharp, frantic tugs, grabbed the hem of her orange crop top, and yanked the fabric straight up over her collarbones.

HOLY MOTHER OF MILK TANKERS.

Two colossal, pristine, milk-white globes spilled out into the dim red light of the incinerator room.

They were absolutely glorious. Taut, heavy, and completely unbothered by gravity, they bounced slightly as she pulled her shirt up, tipped with broad, deep crimson nipples that were swollen so hard from the Panacea’s lingering arousal that they looked like bright pink raspberries.

Rebecca’s face was burning so hot I could practically feel the thermal radiation hitting my snout. She looked away, staring stubbornly at the rusted furnace doors across the room, her lower lip trembling as she tried to maintain her fierce expression.

"Th-There!" she snapped, her voice shaking with a mix of embarrassment and raw, unadulterated lust. "You wanted to stare at them so bad, didn’t you?! Well, go on! Put your big, gross, slimy mouth on them already, you stupid monster!"

She immediately gasped, her eyes going wide as she realized what she had just blurted out.

"Wait—no! I didn’t mean—"

She made a sudden move to pull her crop top back down over her chest, but I was already moving.

Hold the fuck up! You do NOT tease a hungry lizard with top-tier, prime-grade heroine tits and then try to cover them back up! That is a crime against humanity!

Before her hands could pull the fabric an inch lower, my jaw dropped open, and I lunged forward like a striking cobra.

[To Be Gooned]

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