Chocolates for a Scorpion Ch. 02

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Scarlet's friends go after Prowl for their own reasons.
11.2k words
4.61
14.1k
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Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/27/2014
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Armphid
Armphid
386 Followers

The door shut behind her and she reached back, turning the lock and the deadbolt both closed with heavy clicks. Scarlet Sting leaned back against it, clutching a white slim box that looked as though it held more than it was intended to her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the door, her green, wavy hair out of the usual braid, free and wild. A smile flitted over her lips; just like him.

The smile dimmed. Oh, God, what had she done? What had he done? What would she do now? The things he'd said when they left the bank vault...

She shook her head and sighed, leaning up off the door, the chitinous covering of her tail making a soft scratching sound as it moved against the painted wood. It couldn't be. And he probably hadn't really meant it. She was a "villain," and he was a hero, wasn't he? It could never work. Even if she wanted it, he'd change his mind, she was sure.

The house was quiet as she walked into the kitchen and deposited the box on the counter before moving to sink into a simple chair at the kitchen table. The beach house was furnished but with basic furniture; in their line of work you never knew when you might have to move suddenly. Unless you were very proud, secure, or just hedonistic you got things that were more serviceable than nice.

The quiet was a blessing. Her housemates must either be asleep still or maybe out on a job, if she was lucky. She sighed and wrapped her tail about herself, a familiar comforting gesture. She had felt so good and so happy but now she was just confused. Scarlet looked at the bulbous end of her tail and a small smile graced her lips. She reached out and ran a gloved hand over it, shivering at the pleasant sensation that ran through her. Funny, before last night with Prowl, she never would have looked to her tail as anything but a weapon and a burden.

A buzzing sound came from the stairs and she jerked her hand away as if it might be burned. Shit! They were home! "Hey, you're back!" There was a giggle from a sweet voice that then sing-songed, "And just before the sun, you bad girl!" Killer Bee flew down the stairs rather than walk and zipped over to hover beside the table, "I'll make coffee, I want to hear all about it!"

She was a year older than Scarlet at twenty, but often seemed to be the youngest of their little circle of friends. Killer Bee, or Honey as she preferred to be called, was only five feet tall and had a face that was cuter than it was pretty, with black eyes that were large and expressive. Her hair was a tidy pixie cut of yellow, not blond, that curved inward around her face; the cuteness was thrown off a bit by the pair of half inch thick black antennae that emerged from a few inches above her hairline. They twitched and moved all the time, feeding her information and reflecting her mood. She had a very unusual and almost alien figure but it was appealing; modest, perky breasts currently contained in a pale yellow tank top, a waist that was ridiculously small, and large, rounded hips with an even larger, plump ass. Her rear was dangerous to more than just those who liked big butts; a retractable three foot stinger could emerge from just above her posterior. Her legs were shapely and religiously shaved daily, as was the rest of her lower body; otherwise a fine, soft yellow and black striped fur covered her from the tips of her toes up to her navel. Her three foot bee wings were going madly to keep her aloft, the buzzing from them a droning rumble this close. Besides the tank top, she wore a pair of yellow and black panties that were stretched over her backside. The scent of warm honey drifted from her underwear.

"That's okay, Honey, really," Scarlet shook her head, "I'm just going to-"

"Sit down and tell us all about your date? And the night after," interrupted the voice of her other housemate. She was leaning against the door to the basement, which she used as her own private "apartment" and smiling. Weaver, Susan out of costume, was pretty with elegant and noble features, high cheek bones, and icy blue eyes. She was taller than the other girls at 5' 10" in height and was also the oldest of the trio at twenty-four. Her hair was a long, silky blond the color of honey and fell down to the small of her back. She had a graceful, willowy figure with a small bust and ass that were both pert and temptingly shaped, with long supple limbs. On the outside of either of her butt cheeks was a small node with a spine, a spinneret, emerging from holes cut out of her sleeping pants. She wore a lacy chemise in lavender that skimmed over her gracile frame. From her back emerged a quartet of three jointed, ten foot long, purple and red chitin clad spider legs as thick as a man's wrist, each ending in a sharp point; currently they were folded back and out of the way but as she came into the room they reached out, one tapping on the coffee pot and another two pulling out chairs for herself and Honey, the fourth pushing the box Scarlet had set on the counter over so she could pick it up. "And share your chocolates with your friends, right?"

"Well, uh, see-"

"Yeah, chocolate in the morning is the best way to start!" Honey snatched the box from Susan's hands and pulled the lid off, then blinked, "Huh?" Instead of candy, the box was full of cash; bills of all denominations. "Ohhh, this is what's left from the bank job you pulled."

"Heh, uh, yeah, so I'll just take it and deposit it in the mutual account, and-"

"It's all...crusty." Honey lifted a stiff bill that stood upright in her fingers and shook it, the currency making a wobbling sound. "And it smells like...like..." Susan took up a bill and sniffed as Scarlet blushed a deep red. "Oh! Oh, wow! Last night went really well, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but also kind of no." Scarlet shook her head, "It got...complicated. And this morning..."

"Well, we're here, Rachel," Susan said, laying a hand on her friend's shoulder. She always preferred using their real names rather than code names. Except with Killer Bee, who was always Honey to her friends. "Why don't you talk to us about it?" Honey nodded enthusiastically.

Scarlet bit her lower lip and then nodded, "All right. So...I never made it to my date. While I was on the bank job, Prowl showed up and we kind of got locked in the vault together." She went on and told them the whole story of how she and her enemy became accidental Valentines and spent the night in passion, embracing and enjoying each other in a pile of money, how he was kind and tender, touching parts of her no one had ever dared to before, seeing her fully beautiful, how they started off fucking but ended making love, and then in the morning how they'd been found by the hero Rampart and parted with her taking the money that was most covered with their cum and could be traced and fleeing after Prowl asked if he could see her again.

"So now...I don't know. It was wonderful, but...I mean, he was clearly just being nice. And there's no way it could ever work, so him saying that, I bet he was just trying to trap me or get lucky again or something." Scarlet turned her coffee cup in her hands. A small breakfast of toast and poached eggs was in front of the three women, prepared by Susan while they listened to Scarlet's story. "I should've stung him on the way out, the jerk. So I told him that it didn't change anything and I ran for it." She paused and her voice was a bitter, "He didn't come after me, so, he didn't mean it."

"That's so romantic! And so hot!" Honey's eyes seemed even larger than usual and the scent from her panties was clearly stronger. "God, I can't believe it! And he didn't hesitate at all? He just," she made a cock stroking gesture towards the scorpion woman's tail.

She shook her head, "No. It surprised the hell out of me, I mean, that he'd want to at all with it and then he just started to caress and stroke it...like it didn't bother him at all."

"And you ditched him?" Susan's aristocratic feature were incredulous. "Rachel, dear, do you know how rare it is for a man, for anyone, to be able to look past the appearance of women like us and-" She cut off her speech and sighed, "I think you made a mistake. You clearly enjoyed his company, why not take him up on the offer and see if anything came of it?"

Scarlet glared at the older girl, "You wanted to hear what happened, I told you, I didn't ask for commentary." She stood up, "You're just jealous because you haven't gotten any in three years." Susan's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to take a shower, and I'm not talking about this when I get back."

"But Scarlet," Honey pleaded, "we just want to help. I think-"

"I don't give a fuck what you think, Honey," the green haired nineteen-year-old snapped. "You weren't there, either of you, you don't know what it was like or how I felt. So cram it!" She stormed out of the kitchen; Honey jumped up to stop her but Susan stretched out a leg to stop her. Scarlet's angry, pounding footsteps went up the stairs and off to the far end of the house before a door slammed.

Honey sighed, "She didn't have to say that. Poor Scarlet...she's pretty mixed up."

"Mm." Susan was tapping her lips with one finger. "Yes. But she's not wrong. We weren't there and didn't feel it. But maybe we can..."

Honey looked over at her friend in confusion then comprehension broke over her face. She blushed and looked around as if they might be overheard. "Susan! You're not thinking of...of that, are you? We can't do that to her!"

"She's not interested in him, she said so herself," the arachnid featured blond shrugged as her spider legs lifted her up out of her chair. "So it wouldn't matter...and if it did, maybe she'd learn something."

"But..."

Susan quirked an eyebrow, "She wasn't wrong. I am jealous and it has been three years. Three. Years."

Honey whimpered, "Nineteen months."

"Far too long, don't you think, Killer Bee?"

A naughty smile spread over Honey's cute lips, "...Yes, Weaver, I do."

~

Prowl took a deep pull of the night air. It was so different out here in the suburbs; cleaner, but for all that oddly sessile and sterile. He really had turned into a city boy, hadn't he? His father would be crushed. The lean, agile hero crept to the peak of the roof of the large Mcmansion he was using as a vantage point and looked down the street at the other large, pattern built houses, taking another sniff. Killer Bee's scent was clear and unmistakable, she was always easy to track. Weaver was there too; a smell of silk and slightly rotten fruit odor of her legs. But there wasn't a third. There wasn't that whiff of chitin and chemicals mixing with a vibrant clear aroma that he'd wanted to fill his nose with again.

Scarlet Sting wasn't there. When the report had come in about The Stingers being on a rampage, he'd gone after it with her parting words and his conversation with Galatea both sizzling in his mind. His friend was right and he knew it. He didn't want to leave things where they were. Even if she rejected him again, he had to make the effort. If not, he would always wonder what might have been, always regret it. And she was worth that effort.

But she wasn't even here.

Part of him wanted to leave and go find her but he couldn't leave her most common partners-in-crime. They'd gone on a small, strange rampage today. They'd hit furniture stores, a department store, a string of small businesses, stealing some money but mostly goods. It was bizarre; while petty crime wasn't unheard of from a lot of villains, it wasn't type for them. Nonetheless, they'd done it and he'd tracked them here. The neighborhood was one of many pre-planned types well past the outer belt stuffed with large houses and small mansions on ordered plots, built before they had a buyer. Then the housing market had crashed and here they stood. He was out at these places often, actually. Meth cookers, human trafficking rings, and others liked to use these abandoned houses. In a way, it made them easy to find and deal with, particularly for him. Those places stank to high heaven; he didn't need to get in to know what was going on inside. He'd actually been in this neighborhood a few months back.

Prowl leaped down from the roof onto the lawn and bolted down the street with inhuman speed and then away from the road, down through the backyards, leaving tracks in the snow behind him. He disliked that but it was still February, so there was little avoiding it. The white backdrop made stealth much trickier and made his path easy to find. In the city, he could use the rooftops to avoid that but it was less viable here. He crept to the side of the house that was bursting with Killer Bee's hot honey smell almost smothering Weaver's scent. After a few quick tries, a window opened slowly and smoothly and he pulled himself through it and started to creep through a bare living room. Then the floor fell out from under him.

In hindsight, it was far too simple. A window just happened to be unlocked? Idiot! He snarled at himself as he fell and then his fall was arrested by strong, soft, sticky, swath of spider silk that left him hanging in the air with the trapline strung under his arms and along the back of his shoulders. He tested it as carefully as he could and was surprised to find he would be able to break the line with little effort. That was unusual. Weaver's webs could vary in strength, thickness, texture, tension, and a number of other ways but he'd never seen her use one this weak. She had to know it wouldn't hold him.

"Prowl," her voice came out of the darkness behind him. He was hanging in what looked to be a partially finished basement...though now it was furnished with the items taken from the furniture stores: A large bed and set of mattresses were made up with red sheets and many fluffy pillows in front of a loveseat that faced it. Space heaters hummed around the room, providing warmth and even a little ruddy light, and he could now hear a generator running back in the utility room. "I'm surprised at you. A world famous hero breaking into a house with two young ladies all alone...one might think you had dishonorable intentions." Her voice grew closer as she spoke. "Or hope so."

What? He didn't break out of her web yet but tried to look back and see her, "Weaver, what are you playing at?" He could see her spider's legs moving but not the villain's body; she must be directly behind him. Was she going to bite him? Her bite was poisonous but if so, why bind him with a tie he could easily break?

"Play is what we want," Killer Bee's voice was in front of him and so he turned to face her and he gasped in surprise. "And you do too, don't you, you bad boy? We've heard about you." The bee girl had come in while he was looking for Weaver and she wasn't wearing her normal costume. In fact, she wasn't wearing anything. Not a stitch of clothing obscured her body as she sauntered across the carpeted floor towards him; her dark eyes seductive and nervous all at once. There was a bright red blush on her cheeks and her lips were scarlet with fresh lipstick, slightly parted. Her skin was clean and smooth, pale with a faintly yellow tint to it. Her breasts were pert, perky mounds large enough to fill his palms and they rose and fell as she breathed, nipples already pointy and stiff. Her stomach was flat and narrowed viciously to a tiny waist that looked as though his fingers would touch if he put both hands around it. Her hips were round and luscious, with a plump, plush ass that swayed from side to side above supple legs and dainty feet. Her pussy was bare and glistened with wetness; the smell of honey was so strong he could taste it in his mouth. "Come and be bad again and play with us."

He swallowed and his eyes moved over her offered body, taking in the sight of her. Okay, he hadn't expected that. She looked good. Killer Bee was attractive but always acted so cute he'd never thought of her as sexy, but like this, she was nothing but. He could feel blood surging to his manhood and took a deep breath. "Killer Bee, I-"

"Honey," she interrupted. "You can call me Honey," she then winked as she drew closer to him, "If you're nice." The young woman bit her lower lip shyly but her eyes were now bright with satisfaction at his reaction to her. One small hand reached out to rub his left thigh, just skirting the growing bulge in his suit. "Oooh, I think you want to be nice, don't you?"

Before he could answer a pair of strong but soft hands grabbed his ass and squeezed, drawing another gasp from him. "Scarlet's right about his ass." Two of Weaver's legs lifted up and ran along the silk cords holding him up, letting him fall down the few feet remaining to the floor. Prowl pivoted and stepped back, bringing them both into his field of vision. Weaver was smiling, an elegant and sensual expression on her classically lovely face. She lacked the curves of either of her compatriots but her body was beautiful and graceful, the lines clean and feminine, her high apple-sized breasts were perfectly curved and her legs went on for miles, shapely, smooth, and sultry. Her butt was barely a handful but tight and heart shaped, the ends of her spinnerets glinting faintly in the light of the space heaters. Her sex was accompanied by a thin, well-trimmed patch of blond hairs.

Prowl shook his head, not believing what he was seeing, what they were saying. But their scents made it clear. Arousal and want flooded his nose, Killer Bee's honeyed juices and Weaver's earthy musk alike. Their smell called to him. The part of his mind and spirit that were enmeshed with Wolf howled out for him to act, to be the alpha and take the bitches that were offering themselves up to him. God, he wanted to. But he was a man first. "I won't say I don't like what I see, or that I don't want what you're offering, assuming I'm not-"

"Oh, no, I assure you," Weaver said as she ran a hand between her tits and down her willowy body to slip between her legs and slip a finger over her slit. "We want exactly what you think, Prowl. You're responding just as we'd hoped. As we thought no one ever would to women like us."

Like Scarlet. "If you know what happened between us, if she told you, but it wasn't just a night to me." Prowl licked his lips, trying to keep his eyes from moving over their bare, beautiful bodies and failing. "I don't want to hurt her."

"Neither do we," the spider-woman shrugged, her upper legs mimicking the gesture. "But she said nothing had changed between you, didn't she? And we aren't looking for a great romance, my brave but dim boy. We want you, for tonight, because it's been so long and you...you look past what we are when you look at us. We don't get that often, you know."

"Please," Killer Bee said softly.

Her eyes were afraid now, a familiar fear of rejection. He lowered his gaze, his heart aching. Prowl felt aggravated they were playing that card but at the same time, nothing Weaver had said was wrong. And they were both here and so hot, so eager, so ready. Wolf was slavering in the back of his heart, mind, and soul. He took a deep breath and remembered what Galatea had said. He lifted his eyes and swept them over the big bottomed bee girl and her slender companion. "Any man who said no to that...would be an idiot."

He stepped forward and slid an arm around each of their waists, a thrill of adrenaline surging through him from being this close. He'd faced punches, kicks, bites, and stings from them many times in the past. To be so close still carried that memory of danger. Prowl leaned down and kissed the smaller woman, Honey letting out a squeal of delight against his lips. Hers were warm and soft and sweet like candy. The kiss broke and even as he moved his head, Weaver took hold of his chin in one hand and guided him to her for a long, heated kiss that was a tantalizing juxtaposition to her usually cool demeanor. He felt a fearful thrill as her arachnid limbs reached around him and struck, their points piercing and pulling to stab the fabric of his costume without more that grazing his skin. Then they tensed and flexed, spreading wide and the sound of tearing fabric ripped through the small space as his tongue entered her mouth and wrestled with her own.

Armphid
Armphid
386 Followers