Chapter 4

That night, my dreams were strangely erotic.

Maybe it was brought on by the bath, the sensation of being warmed so thoroughly that I'd been one with the water; or maybe it was the way Gray-Hair's calloused palms felt as they'd rubbed across the expanse of my body, burning and methodic. There had been nothing sexual about the touch, but I'd shook badly through the whole process as Gray-Hair pressed on from behind. I'd leaned out of the water, to not feel his taut abdomen or mistake the experience for anything else other than removing grime and sweat. The dream was anything but.

Clawed hands slowly stroked my inner thighs with burning heat. I arched into the giant body, gasping as long fingers dove between my dark curls. A talon teasingly ran against my slit, giving only a fraction of the sensation I craved. My digits weaved into his gray locks, tugging with each merciless stroke. No matter how I moved, Gray-Hair never gave me what I craved.

Hot flesh prodded my lower back, and I grasped it. Gray-Hair hissed pleasantly as I fondled his hard length. Precum beaded the tip, and one handed, I smoothed the lubricant up and down, from head to base. The length was long, thick - - I could feel his heart beating - - if his anatomy was similar enough to have a heart. Tusks pricked incessantly at my neck and shoulder with each huffing breath, but the sting sent a wonderful throb between my legs. We groaned.

Finally the long finger sank into my body, testing my slick folds. It matched my pace, pumping into me with each of my tugs on his alien flesh. Faster, faster. He jerked in my hand and I rode his palm, wet with my juices. There was only breath, strong and short, an animalistic frenzy of sweat and movement. I was going weak in the legs, it was becoming too much-

I was thrown to a bed - - a bed out of place, as it belonged at my childhood home. The springs squeaked horribly and I sat halfway up before the alien straddled my torso. He snarled low, thrusting his swollen cock against my flesh. With readjustment, I gathered my copious breasts around the needy length and lay back, letting him pleasure himself. Gray-Hair's breath was ragged, and escaped with loud huffs timed to each push. It filled me with powerful feminine pleasure to know I caused this beast.

There was only the friction, a disjointed reality as if he were already in me, his thick organ beading with liquid. I tasted at whim, laving the mushroom-shaped head with the flat of my tongue. My mind told me it was salty, but my tongue said it was bitter.

Gray-Hair thrust a handful of more times and tensed. With a roar a stream of hot cum burst from his stiff cock across my face and neck. Some made it into my waiting mouth, where my lips eagerly smacked it away. Dismounting, the Predator nudged my legs apart, then plunged his claws inside with a viciousness that would have cut in real life. He thrust in and out, in and out, ferocious and rough and oh-so-good. I thrust my hips back with all the lust in my body. Wetness seeped from the juncture of my thighs, smearing with each plundering stroke. White hot fire verged on full conflagration in my belly, and God did I want it.

My hands clutched frantically at the sheets, at his thick wrist, as if to stave off the rush. But it was already too late.

And in that most critical moment, the moment of full completion - - I woke up.

Ujik'va smelt a female. Between sleep and full alertness, his dick engorged on blood for a rut that might not come. Mating rattles echoed from chest at the hot body pressed against his hide, the twitch of small hands running over his pectoral muscles. It was a strange touch to him, to be touched gently, and that perhaps was what made him open his beady eyes.

Suckling-like, the ooman female had nuzzled into him in sleep. Ujik'va laid on his back upon the many furs and she held herself against him, strange face hidden in his flesh and clawless hand splayed on his stomach, twitching in the midst of dream. Her breaths were warm, wet, and his cock twitched impatiently to be enveloped in her soft folds.

After bathing together in a tub, which was far deeper than it was wide, Ujik'va had brought the ooman into his quarters. He would not have his companion sleep with her pack on the floor like an animal. Not like the abused pet she had been to the bad-blood. It had took coercion, lengthy time for her to even consider laying on his pelts with him. Ujik'va did not understand it fully, but her distraught reactions to him while bathing were a hint. Contact disturbed his female, and not from a physical ailment but mental. Her abuse by the bad-blood made her skittish, untrusting.

But that didn't explain why she was groping his body in scandalous ways - - her hand fumbling with his painfully hard cock and her wet ooman lips pressing against his-

Ujik'va groaned deep at the strange sensation of her taste organ on his tough hide. As a yautja, his sense of taste was dull, intermingling with the olfactory tissues that lined his pharyngeal cavity. But the alien sensation sent a hard shiver straight into his groin, his member jerking. He'd only worn it to make his female comfortable with his proximity. Now he wished he'd not bothered with it at all - - he wondered how he tasted to her.

Musk trickled down his dreads, the smell thick and heavy. Yeyinde's scent was impossibly strong. The attention paid was exquisite. Ujik'va, however, was undoubtedly confused by her behavior… and by himself. A snarl ripped from his throat with another swipe of that tongue.

The sound startled her awake.

And he did not know what to make of her reaction.

She took a second to get her bearings; she looked at her hands, where they placed on his body - on his cock, wrapped around him- how she positioned against his superior form. The female jumped from Ujik'va as if he were Cetanu himself.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, so- so sorry!" Yeyinde scented of fear - - she scooted far away from him, her uncanny, yautja-shaped, eyes wide. He recognized the words as expression of regret and apology. By the time she'd made it to the door, the arbitrator finally moved, mandibles splayed with intent.

For the first time in a long time, Ujik'va's reflexes failed. His female had already gone.

I breathed deep, trying to control the huffs that threatened to break out of my lungs. I smothered the breaths with the back of my hand, clenching my eyes. In the back of the ship, between pipes and grating, I found little peace. I was disgusted with myself, and terrified. I'd touched him, a beast who'd… who'd…

"What have you done?" I managed between another gulped breath, sinking to the floor. "Damn it, Gwyn!"

It had been a dream, at first, a dream that tangled badly with my reality.

"Fuck," I moaned and sank to the floor, into the thick fog, holding my head. He's not your species, Gwyn. He's not human.

And that made it wrong. I couldn't humanize him, because he was anything but. There was a terribly primal glint in those gold eyes, and I didn't know a way around it.

The piping hissed, spewing more sweltering moisture into the environ. It seemed like I'd never visit a place where I didn't sweat. Only I knew part of the heat was caused by the dream, still so fresh and vivid in my mind that my body thrummed more from pleasure than from bruise.

I'd found a strange comradeship with Gray-Hair. The rape, although horrible, was the point of bondage, the part that gave us both a reason to hunt down and destroy the other … together - - what did they called themselves? I laughed quietly under my breath, sliding my hand over my forehead and into damp hair. Anyway, I'd put that comradeship out on a limb - - unknowingly with my dazed fondling. The limb might be broken now.

Gray-Hair could have a wife-monster or kids back home, a family, and here I sat after feeling him up. He'd been stiff as a rock under my hands, his muscles tightened to snap. His hide had a pebbly texture, dark patterns raised just enough to be felt. The body was more real than my dreams, but not accepting of my touches.

I looked at my hands in contempt. I didn't want to touch him. Not like that. My dreams pointed otherwise - - but my dreams are only dreams after all.

Voices drifted to me though the ship, a low hoarse bout of laughter. I rubbed my eyes vigorously and stumbled up, holding myself. With a strange, sinking confidence, I wandered to my crew. Anything to keep thoughts away. Anyone.

They hadn't moved far from the entrance, a white circular chamber with four pillars stretching high to the ceiling. The roof was covered in animal skins, blocking the main lighting and coloring the thick mist yellow. The crew huddled near the middle, having raided my bags for food and booze.

"Gwyn, come here," Doc motioned for me to join, so I did. Perhaps it was me, but I was out of place. The three men neither looked happy nor angered at my presence, but wary. Duke refused my bleak gaze, typical, but I did not understand Doc's and Mason's guarded expressions.

"Where's that ET takin' us?"

And for that, there was one answer: "Hunting."

I explained the full circumstances of Betsy-Daisy's crash, how the Asshole we were now tracking had sabotaged our ship and sent us to the ground. I did my best to explain a grudge between Gray-Hair and the Asshole, between the avocado alien and me. I told of beatings, but not rape; I told of capture, but not tears. They didn't try to console me - - I didn't think I could handle it.

"Where are you injured?" Doc shoved alcohol into my hands.

I fumbled with the cap, then shook my head, "Gray-Hair took care of it," and drank away the guilt in my stomach.

"Pfft," Duke finally spoke, focusing his narrow eyes on mine. His nose had been taped back in place, courtesy of Doc and the First-Aid kit. "You're pretty comfortable around that ET. Why weren't we invited in on communal shower time?"

I bit my lip, grimacing darkly. "You know what Duke, fuck you."

"I don't take damaged goods," his gaze was harsh, unyielding. How could he possibly - ?

- I flinched.

"Shut it," Mason snapped, half through a package of chicken and lime soypro. "How long till we get this guy. I have a score to settle for my ship-"

"We all have scores to settle," I swallowed thickly, "I was under the impression that we'd find him soon."

The conversation mingled into silence, a mockery of the camaraderie that had formerly taken place on our junk barge. Methane and oily air perfumed us, drowned us in hot climate and body odor. Doc tapped his foot absently, scratched at his stubble; Mason finished his soypro; Duke swigged back another beer. An hour must have passed.

"Remember T-677, that place?" Doc finally said to break the engine thrums. "What a dump - - garbage, everywhere."

"Yeah, I remember, took weeks to get the smell out of our clothes. We didn't even find anything worth salvaging. Bunch of yahoos."

"Yeah, but nice lookin' ones," Duke turned to Mason, "That red-head was a fine broad, cheap too."

Mason rubbed at his bald skull and leaned back, looking rather pleased. He was remembering a time when aliens weren't shooting plasma casters at him or satisfying other gory needs. "She had great lips, the kind that could wrap-"

Lalala - - I thought to myself. I didn't need to hear it. A warmth had settled into my stomach, a light headedness making me sleepy from obvious lack of sleep. However, I stayed awake, half adrift in bad fantasies and the other's conversation.

"What ever happened to Darleen? Weren't you an' her supposed to jump ship?" Mason inquired of Doc.

Doc shook his head. "There was nothing here for her, you remember? I ain't marrying no two-bit scrapper."

"Hell, what's wrong with bein' a scrapper? There's plenty of credits when we get hauls!"

"When is exactly right - - that just points back to T-677."

I could understand.

Herrick. Herrick thought the same damned thing. We never had hauls. We never had credits. And when they did, we did, credits were used up to start all over once again. Not that there'd be anymore of that, not since the Betsy-Daisy was well gone. Herrick was well gone. Then, suddenly, I was hit with an resolution.

"I want his gun," I interrupted their conversation. The whisky bottle was cold in my hands.

They looked at me, looked at little Gwyn, who'd never shot a gun in her life, like I had two heads.

"Who's gun?"

"Herrick's, you bastard," I glared daggers at Duke. "You took it off him."

"Like hell I did-"

"-It was always on him, you were the only one up front to take it!"

"Herr-'

"Just give her the damn gun, Duke," Captain Mason elbowed him in the side. "If Gwyn wants a gun, she should have a damn gun."

Duke stiffly dug into his own bag. A moment later I was forced to catch the cold heavy steel of Herrick's revolver. The grip was large, the polished and well cared for steel cool. I hadn't realized how large of a gun it was, how much strength it took to lift. On the side it read S&W 500 Magnum, and held five charging holds - - all loaded. A moment later I was also forced to catch the ammo that was unceremoniously dumped into my lap.

"Think you can handle it, little girl?" Duke sneered, cracked lips pulling back grotesquely on his yellowing teeth. "That's a man's gun."

I only had one reply as I stood, heart pounding frightfully fast in my chest - - "Are you willing to find out?" I wanted nothing more than to test it. I'd never shot a gun - - but I knew the theory: cock the hammer, pull the trigger. Every cell in my body wanted Duke to be that first bullet.

I wandered away from the men after that. The smell of their sweat was bitter in my nose - - as was my own, although mine was decidedly more sweet. I fumbled unloading and loading the magnum in a dark corner of the ship, carefully going through the motions of the old weapon that Herrick had painstakingly preserved. The casings for the gun were as long as my pinky, brass and heavy in my bag, the worn leather holster weighing the other side. The weight was not unlike the tools of my mechanic trade, just different in nature. I didn't know if I could fire it, but I doubted Gray-Hair would appreciate me putting a hole in his hull.

Gray-Hair.

I made a face and touched the gun on my left hip. My right hand clutched the whiskey. I'd paced the halls of his ship a few times by now, up and down the glowing walls, across solid floor and metal grating, below which were entire rooms - - store rooms by the look, filled with organized crates. At one point I found myself in front of his door again, a door that would slide straight into the wall if opened. It'd only been two three hours now since I'd awoke. He might have gone back to sleep.

I imagined what would happen if I pressed the indent to open it. I imagined going in, laying down on the furs - - I imagined the dream, and my heart fluttered weakly, then tightened. Gray-Hair was undoubtedly still inside. At heart, I was a coward. I turned from the door and paced once again. Anything to distract me.

But my thoughts wouldn't stop pacing, just like my feet.

I was born on P-489, a small planetoid around the size of Pluto. With little gravity, and even less atmosphere, the colony was forced to work inside. Precious ores and metals were mined there, and my parents were the mechanics in charge of making the drills run right. Long days passed with me watching them, wanting to grow up and have jobs just like theirs. They'd taught me and helped me build, fix, repair. For me, I liked the effort, that I could rework kinks and make machines move. Sure, I wasn't making things as complicated as AI's or conversion reactors, but it… it was fun. I advanced with every little job.

This ship was more advanced than anything I'd ever seen.

I'd stepped past an open door. Then I realized that there was indeed a door, and swiveled to a stop. The tell-tale sound of clattering tusks drew me back, and I steeled myself. Gray-Hair wasn't in his room as I'd thought, and living on a ship as small as the Betsy-Daisy taught me that although I wished otherwise, it's impossible to not confront shipmates.

He was-

Skulls.

A morbidly large display of skulls, a collection of monsters without names. The precipice, like the highest pipes of an organ - - an ivory crown, flaring and flat but twisted all the same, it lead to a maw of crystalline teeth and an eyeless domed face. I gasped, shocked at the sightless horror, the pyramid of alien trophies, like a taxidermists flaunted works. There were many, maybe hundreds, because the room was that large.

Gray-Hair heard. Gray beaded dreads clattered only faintly with their precious decorations. His mandibles were drawn in, his expression seriously pensive. His body was clothed only in a loincloth, snug, but low against powerful hips. The lack of armor and weaponry didn't diminish his stance or mass over me in anyway. Upon the dark worktable before him was the human skull he had worn. His thumb caressed its brow before he faced me fully.

"I didn't mean to intrude…" his answering trill was neutral, rattling into silence as sharp gold eyes fell on the weapon at my hip.

This tusks clicked once, twice more, eyeing me. He said his name for me finally, and I sidled into his space.

I said what I thought was right: "I'm sorry again for… for earlier," his head tilted, as if to better understand my words. "I shouldn't have touched you - like… like that." If he understood me, I didn't wait for his reply. I extended the booze.

He made no attempt to accept, studying me only with regard. So again I offered, gut curling in the heat. "Take it."

He slowly did.

And there were no distractions here.

Gray-Hair's claws tapped against the glass as he inspected the bottle. Opening it, he huffed the fumes - - and I suddenly realized how odd it was, that he needed to smell through his mouth. Unbidden came a trill and he eyed me yet again - - a knowing look, he knew what alcohol was. I smiled despite myself.

"Ooman c'ntlip," his finger beckoned and his mandibles twitched. I strayed closer. From under the work table Gray-Hair opened a storage container, and pulled out a heavy flask. I had an inkling before I even held it. The humanoid made the motion of drinking, his mangled upper-left mandible pulling sideward, a smirk. Men - - some things were universal.

I sloshed the amber liquid in the heavy flask, indecisive. Surely it couldn't be bad? The taste of alcohol was amazingly strong, and the drink almost sickly sweet.

Coughing, I wiped my mouth, "Oh, Gods, what is this? Moonshine?" It was going straight from my throat to my head. Screw my stomach, I couldn't feel it.

Gray-Hair barked with laughter, a sound that echoed from the tall room and off the gory decorations. I gave him the one-finger salute - - but he mustn't have known the meaning. The beast's laughter died into purrs, like a giant content pussy-cat, and reached to the wall, touching an indent.

The floor moved under my feet and I squeaked, stumbling backwards. The massive alien steadied me with a hand as the desk slid neatly into the wall, and the flooring pulled back to reveal a lounger. Or the closest version of it. The sloped alcove was bowl-shaped, and the sides padded with soft looking furs. Extra pelts and skins lay around the edges. The middle was occupied by a slender table, which was also retractable. It faced the pillar of skulls, like one would set a couch before a TV.

As Gray-Hair slipped down to the furs, I followed awkward suit. His purrs had yet to die and he lazed out along the side. He tasted the alcohol I'd given him and trilled again; I laughed in his stead, his manner of drinking from the narrow bottle amusing. We settled into a quiet and emotionally warm silence, sipping our dues and enjoying the bubbly that welled in our stomachs.

He'd forgiven my earlier mishap.

As I lay back and looked at his collecti0n of skulls, the blunt alien faces of massive creatures, and even skulls of his own kind, I couldn't help but pose a question: "Why?"

Gray-Hair tilted his head in question, rumbling still. I waved towards the mounted creatures. "Why do you have so many skulls?"

His tusks could only clack in answer to the female's question. Finally he signed to her what she could only interpret as prowess. Displayed before the ooman were his most honorable trophies - - his status of Arbiter and Honored Warrior in one. It takes a certain kind of person to hunt their own kind, a hunter to hunt a hunter; although bad-bloods weren't hunters - nay, Yautja - at all.

Yeyinde consented to his signed explanation slowly, and he knew that his female had not rec0gnized all, but she understood the most important part. His skulls were his proof of Honor.

He had been contemplating the female when she'd stumbled by.

Yeyinde's actions from earlier plagued him in the oddest way, and when he'd breathed her lingering thick scent, his body responded by growing painfully erect. That's why he had retreated to his trophy room to inspect skulls.

He shivered, even now, remembering the feel of her soft touches. No female of his own kind had ever touched him so gently - - not even his bearer. He had liked it.

It was unacceptable for a Yautja, a Hunter, to like the touches of Prey. By the Code Yeyinde wasn't Prey. She had shown him Mercy, and thus was his equal.

Ujik'va trilled, gold eyes flitting to the ooman. Her face was flushed and her fleshy mouth pulled into a smile. The c'ntlip was strong, and she took it well enough, but he worried that it was too intoxicating for a ooman - - the ooman c'ntlip was mild, but good. He could feel the hazy warmth relaxing his tense muscles.

Over the scent of the fermented beverages he could smell the female - - his groin responded. Sweet and cloying, he could almost taste it.

How could she smell of heat, when she was no longer lou-dte kalei?

Ujik'va trilled his interest at her, and she tilted her head. Then the arbitrator came to a sudden realization - - he didn't know how to entice a ooman into rut. But that smell was going to drive him hulij-bpe, crazy, with frustration.

He deepened his mating call, added strength. His female was unmoved. He went as far as too press his palm formally to her sternum, and feel the sharp breath she took in reply.

Slowly, the female took his wrist once again into her soft hands, and removed his hand. His gut fell only slightly. He was a male in his prime, after all.

Yeyinde took his hand, fumbling with the c'ntlip held between her thighs, and did something strange. She pressed her palm to his, thumb to thumb, claw to clawless finger. A mirror of his, but his hand was easily twice as large as hers.

Her laugh was short, nervous. Yeyinde withdrew her hands, dropping his to wrap them around the flask of c'ntlip.

"I have the feeling that you understand me more than I understand you," she said, avoiding his eyes. Ujik'va tapped his mandibles absently, putting his released hand to his knee. "I'd like to change that."

His purr eased again, trying to calm the scent of anxiety that flared unbidden. Yes, he agreed. Communication would be a grand thing.

I jerked awake. A low beeping echoed in my head, and I immediately thought of alarm of Betsy-Daisy's crash. Gray-Hair sat up as quickly as I, standing.

With great coordination I stumbled after him, a delirious rush, taking two to three loping steps for each one of his. We tore out of the room, alcohol forgotten on the table.

Not far into the hall my Mason, Doc, and Duke spilled forth from another hall. They accidentally blocked Gray-Hair's path. With a roar, he shoved them out of the way, sideways into the wall, non-stopping.

Whilst Duke snarled, Doc and Mason recovered quickly and fell in next to me. They smelled like sweat and old socks.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," I said, vaguely annoyed at their questions. My head was a throbbing hell, I felt sick to my stomach. "It's an alarm, you tell me."

Ahead, our alien benefactor had made it into the metal pilot's seat. Before the window was a stylus and electronic board with pictorial flashing symbols. The chair groaned and slid forwards, at the same time the back plating slid before Gray-Hair's face, transforming into a large red screen.

This was not what made me double take.

"My God," Doc said, "It's the-"

The Titan. A monstrosity of engineering all by itself. USCMC research vessel. Its metal hull gleamed starkly in the light of a nearby blue star bow side. It was nearly twenty football fields in length, levels and levels of countless technological facilities. The distress call ringed in my mind, that screaming S.O.S, but I couldn't see any damage to the hull of an attack. Yet the thrusters were offline and the ship floated derelict.

I dared to press against the window, watch my breath condensate upon the glass. A ghost ship, gigantic and whole, marine based, and quiet. Too quiet. How did this mission come full circle?

And then I saw it, mounted at the hull. A ship like Gray-Hairs. That Asshole's ship.

"Shit," Captain Mason was trying to hold back a smile. "We made it!"

But I couldn't smile, my guts felt like ice. The rest of the crew was falling in Mason's suit, a kind of easy going "our pains are all over, we've struck gold," but I felt different. I felt like something was terribly wrong.

Apparently Gray-Hair did as well. I turned to him as the visual screen folded back into his chair. His mandibles were tight, silent, then flared in contempt as his heavy brows furrowed. He gave a roar and directed the stylus over picture over picture. The alarm fell silent.

Gray-Hair accepted his directions with a final press of the stylus to the screen.

A brilliant flash of light blasted from our ship and into my tormenters, exploding in a bright, but silent, imploded conflagration. I don't think I've seen anything as beautiful as fire without gravity.

A horrible silence fell over my crew, as if they finally realized what Gray-Hair's technology was capable of.

The villain's ship tore from the now gaping port as the yellow and orange flames died as soon as they'd came. Chunks of metal floated off, but our ship neared yet still.

And by the look on Gray-Hair's crab-like features, I knew that we hadn't killed that Asshole - - and that there was more than that was waiting for us.

Translations:

Cetanu: Yautja deity of death; the Black Warrior.

C'ntlip: alcohol.

Hulij-bpe: crazy.

Lou-dte kalei: "Child Maker."

Ooman: human.

Rhynth: large rhinoceros like animal herded in the first AVP book; alien cattle.

Yautja: Predator species.

Yeyinde: "Brave One."

(1) S&W Model 500: if you've ever watched Dirty Hairy, that's the gun, a .44 magnum revolver. This handgun weighs 4.5 lbs (72.5 ounces) and 15 inches in length - - with the barrel being 8.4 of those inches (37.5 cm long gun, 21 cm long barrel). …Just watch Dirty Hairy, then you'll see it in action. XD We'll just say it kicks, a lot.

(2)I realized something: is Yeyinde the masculine form of "brave one?" If Da'dtou-di is the feminine form of "little knife," wouldn't the feminine of Yeyinde be Yeyindi? Arrgh!11!0! I don't know, what do you predaphiles think? I may change her name to Yeyindi…(which makes sense).

The Titan. Duh-duh-duh-duuuuhhhh. If you need the reference, go back to the first chapter and scan it over :) But we all know what's happened when military vessels float derelict and communications are down, don't we? *Nudge nudge, wink wink.* The Titan's going to get rough. Hope you enjoyed the little sexual teasers. I couldn't have them "go at it" when Gwyn's still pretty torn up, but still: it's getting hot in here… I promise full hot kinky smex in the next chapter :)

And once again I'd like to thank ya'll for your lovely reviews and favs! And even C2's oh geez (thanks!) I can't tell you how much it means to me! This is the first story I've taken seriously in a long time, so try to keep me encouraged! Tell me if Gray-Hair's gettin' OOC because… I don't think Yautja are just going to jump on humans after sleeping with them once (but then again, there wouldn't be any smut in this story if that weren't the case, lolol). -_-'

LordxXxofxXxDorkness: Thanks! If she got her nailed board/bat, well, she'd go on a rampage, lolol. As long as this doesn't destroy your brains, you're more than welcome for the fanfic crack XD

Lord Anubis: hahaha, the male oomans are going to get what's coming to them :D We probably won't even need to worry about secrecy… maybe XD

Dreamerboy84: I'm happy you like it! :D

cyrosian: she's definitely getting revenge. I may be mean to my OC's but I always give them their dues XD

Dragonfiz: That is cool points! XD I'm happy you took the time to read it so late! Now I just hope this chapters up as well…

ida-criss-wild: I think I did good on this one for the time put into it. I honestly procrastinated and ended up writing four pages of it just this night XD

Akailae: I'm sorry I made you wait at all! Lolol. I'm happy you love it so much, so here you go! :D