Special Favor Returned

A/N: To be honest I played the demo for SH4: The Room but reading all these Silent Hill fics there aren't any of Cynthia and Henry so I am going to make one-another challenge: my first Lemon fic that is in a way sort of a oneshot non-specific rape scene (don't worry as traditional Henry is the victim as usual) although I don't know if anyone will be interested in the whole idea with Cynthia being a "succubus" at least let me know what you think so far of this story

Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill or its characters.

Henry Townsend wanted to forget all that had happened with the Twenty-one sacraments as emotionally damaged as he was to watch them suffer and die, it had been four weeks since Walter tried to make Eileen Galvin the "Mother Reborn" and he was now dead.

Maybe if there were an actual Heaven or Hell they still would not see each other ever perhaps. Still walking around never being able to see one another for eternity. After the escape from the horrible ritual, everything turned back to normal. Eileen did not live in the apartment anymore of course, it was rented by a family with two kids: a son and daughter (and from what he heard on the grapevine a third one on the way) they were nice and were the first to greet their "new neighbor" happily before Henry took the time to greet them, even giving him a plate of cookies as a warming gift. They were good cookies, the peanut butter ones with the chococalate stars in the middle, but eating junk food before a dinner date was not a wise thing to do.

Maybe things are finally turning around

He had met the woman while playing a solo game of bowling one night. Her name was Gwen and she was beautiful, smart, and enjoyed photography as much as he did. And even if the date were for one night, only it would take his mind off the horrors that had been imbedded into his mind. It was Saturday and Gwen was about to pick him up in twenty minutes. He went into the bathroom and observed his surroundings; the one thing he noticed was that the hole had disappeared.

It was all a dream. Walter's dream or nightmare in any case. Correction: Walter's dream and Henry's nightmare, as he stepped into the shower and turned the hot tap on him still found that he couldn't take his mind off the hole...why was that, it was just a hole that is all. Nothing is special about a hole.

It is over now...there is no hole...not anymore...it served its purpose and that was why it was there...nothing special about...

Special...special...it hit him like a bag of cinderblocks to the back of his head.

He suddenly thought of Cynthia.

The moment she met, he did not want to say it, but she was not shy of him staring at her scantily clad body so to speak. In fact, she was more interested in touching him then he was of her. When she said that she would reward him with a "special favor" he knew what that meant right away. How could not he, only a sheltered loser would not understand the gist of it. He did not want any sex out of it, but why did he always hope to find her when he came back through that tunnel. It was simple really: because she was there to share the nightmare with that is all. It was not so bad when you know you are not the only one going through it and then even more so when you can reassure yourself in the first place that you are not crazy.

"I never...got to give you...that special favor..."

"Oh god I am dying!"

He closed her eyes and it was over.
"She is in a better place now," he kept saying, "they all are..."

The water in his shower grew cold and he shut it off. Slowly placing the robe over his wet lean body he went into the bedroom to put on his suit, amazed that he would be ready on time for Gwen to show up looking even more beautiful than when he first saw her.

The bedroom still smelled of blood and metal, shrouded in darkness with no glimmer of light to shine through as the shades were drawn shut the bed laid with rumpled up sheets stained in mold and bodily night sweats that he released every night from the room temperature and the nightmares he experience. The walls were covered in smudges and thin lines of dried blood and darken fluids had not been washed off even with the hauntings gone. Papers were littered on the floor as strewn about as a backyard in the autumn with dry dead leaves. Even after it was all over he never bother to clean up the place.

He saw the suit resting on the chair near the desk and took off his robe to be changed.

If it REALLY goes well I sure am hell not taking her back to my place, he thought, the last thing I want is to have some chick getting turned off by the impression of me being a slob

He suddenly heard his door shut; he felt a jolt from the loud slam, forgetting that he even closed the door in the first place.

Henry trembled at the feeling of another presence in the same room as he, another presence that saw him naked and vulnerable. A cold breath touched the back of his neck as if tiny fingers were caressing the skin making him shudder all the way down his spine. Dammit, he knew he locked the door, he knew he must have! He closed his eyes heightening his nose to the scent of passion fruit, cream vanilla, and freshly crushed roses assaulting his mind with relaxation and peace that he tried to bush away; it was not the time to feel Zen, not when an intruder was in the same room as him.

It was time to face them to know the face of who was intruding in on his personal space.
Henry turned around, not caring about the nakedness and prepared...no...NO, he was not prepared for this!

"Cynthia!" he screamed.

There she stood no blood on her, no numbers carved with a knife into her breasts; it was as if she never was murdered in the first place. She raised her hand and lightly touched his cheek as if to confirm that it was not a dream or a fantasy.

"But. you...you were dead...I saw..." he gasped trying to get words in right,” and the funeral...we were...it was an open casket...I mean..."

Cynthia cut Henry off by throwing her head back and laughing her breasts rising up as she did so,” Yes...its true...but in a way...I am both alive and dead...I have become something more, something...remarkable...more than Walter or his crazy ritual could give me..."

Henry shook his head,” I don't understand..."

Then Cynthia stepped foreword, her eyes began to grow hungry looking at the outline of Henry's form, she had never seen him like this before, he was fully clothed when they first met, even when she saw his open wounds and a tearing of cloth from when a creature attacked him she only assumed what he looked like underneath all that garb. But now that he had caught him like this, the hunger in her eyes increased and she wanted to see more of him.

"Let me...show you..." she growled passionately in the back of her throat.

The next thing he knew Cynthia had gripped both the sides of his head and pressed her lips against his own, Henry was caught off guard and every thought was drifting through his mind at 75 mph. How could she still be alive, what had Cynthia become, and if this wasn't because of Walter what was it because of-he wanted to know, but the thoughts began to slow down, relaxing if you will without Henry even realizing it. Cynthia's lips felt moist and cold against his quivering mouth trying to break open the oral doorway to taste more of his inside. He was a strong one she thought, he has gone through so much hell to let me break him down so easily. Her hands left the side of his face and trailed down his slick shaking body. The woman laughed in her mind how foolish Henry was to try to control his body from being hardened by Cynthia's ambushing kiss.

She pulled away wrapping her arms around his waist staring into his eyes, she rotated his whole body around so the back of his legs hit the foot of his bed.

"Get on the bed." she demanded her voice changed from that of a Latina accent to a haunting memorizing hum that tore into Henry's ears and slithered up into the part of his brain that controlled his arms and legs.

Henry was in Cynthia's power making her eyes glow, her voice speaking into his ear whispering to get on the bed over and over again. Massaging his brain, and pulling those internal tendons and strings that he could not break away. Of all the haunting he went through, the arcane powers that were launched at his disposal, all the things he mangled and twisted his brain around to accept from going insane and dying of fright; none were as more laminating and beautiful than Cynthia's siren voice. All at once, his body was a marionette puppet being pulled by invisible strings as he lay down on his filthy bed and stared at the ceiling not looking at Cynthia staring down dominantly like a female alpha wolf. He found that he was free to speak, no doubt to say things to Cynthia, nice things that she wanted to hear, and maybe never heard them in a point in her life.

It made a tear run down his cheek just to think of that.

He dared to ask,” Are you a siren...or a succor-"

"Succubus?" Cynthia answered for him, "yes, you see, when I laid on that hospital bed dying my soul scared to death of all the things that my deeply catholic grandmother told me would happen to 'naughty' girls such as myself...that was when I prayed...prayed that I would share my body with a certain man and that this would be his reward for surviving Walter's game of unholy murder, because I had no doubt that you would die...you are quiet and brave...but you are not a idiot..."

Cynthia was now on the bed undoing the buttons on her short blouse staring at his exposed flesh, she removed the blouse and pulled it off her shoulders as quickly and as causally as if she was taking off a coat upon stepping inside into her warm and cozy living room. Her hands slithered over her white cotton bra and as she preceded the undo the clasp in the front, she spoke again.

"Everyone is right, you are not like all the other boys Henry," she said,” you see, every time I walk past them...I suddenly encourage those erotic thoughts and make them follow me like little lost puppies and kittens...but you...you didn't see me as a woman to lap his tongue over my carnal flesh...but someone to take along on your little macabre quest to save the day..."

Her bra came off and her hands trailed down to her skirt next while she was still talking.

"Well...you are about to join those boys Henry...and I am going to fuck you until you split apart from the inside like an-"

He screamed, looking back he could not remember screaming, but he did and the first name he screamed to help him was:
"EILEEN! HELP ME! EILEEN!"

Cynthia was not amused by the name Henry wanted to cry as his rescuer and savior. With no hesitation, her jewelry covered hand stuck Henry so hard across the face that he almost black out, he cried for Eileen again and it made Cynthia strike him even harder, but the more he was being hit by the Latina succubus's hands the more he just kept screaming for Eileen during his assault the hand curled into fists and his stomach was sledge so hard that he felt the air knock out of his body and he laid there gasping helplessly. Did he have any doubt in his mind that she would sense his plight and come running or was just screaming Eileen's name the only security he felt in a situation he had no control over literally speaking. Cynthia's rings and bracelets made small dark-red gashes and grooves all over his face from scrapping the skin in his frantic vocal struggle.

Cynthia glared at Henry and took no time in removing her skirt and thong until she was naked as well, wearing nothing but her jewelry and her high heels. Her colored nails the shade of bright iridescent blood glided over his bare chest and torso tracing every faint line made by his abs and pecs, doing so; she drew herself in the moment shutting her large dark eyes.

Her smooth hands had become her eyes in going over every contour in Henry's body making her more than ever to devour every piece of him in many ways.

She could hear him whimpering like a wounded animal alone and afraid but a whimper was as good as a moan and she loved it when they were scared and withering under her touch. She grabbed his hands and placed them over her body, cupping one over her plump firm breasts and squeezing it gently as the second one trailed down to her inner thighs and sex manipulating his fingers into dipping into the forbidden crevices that made her pant and moan in ecstasy. Her lips curled back into a wolfish grin when his body responded with a light shudder and the cock resting against her right leg began to tremble.

"Do not even think about Eileen for even a second," she hissed venomously,” if you do...I will rip your throat out after I am done kissing it..."

She lowered her mouth onto his lips again, and this time he finally complied, so it took a little vinegar to pry it open she thought, took him long enough. With his hands still forced to rub her slender curvy body, his mouth opened under more duress until her tongue sucked deep into his mouth. Her hands left Henry's wrists and moved up to his arms leaving behind more nail marks on the underside of his biceps. She squeezed the muscles on his back and kissed deeply feeling his body grow hard and tense from...what was it...she could feel something sweet, like the pink lemonade she drank with her friends on those hot days in the streets as they played jump rope and hop scotch. Whatever it was, she wanted more, to taste what it was inside of Henry that made her shove her whole mouth in.

Henry meanwhile felt a blanket of fatigue over his entire body as Cynthia leaned in to kiss him, his eyes were being pulled shut and he tried to take Cynthia by the shoulders and push her away, but he felt so weak. So powerless. What kind of crime was this he wondered in his fuzzy induced mind, which was strength in itself to keep him alert, and focused, that he had to be given this sort of punishment with a woman he thought was dead?

Why? why...what have I done..to deserve this...violation?

He had always been respectful to women, he remembered, he had never once raped or molested anyone of the female sex. This was a punishment fitting for the most despicable of sex offenders, not just someone who once held the door open for an old woman with a sack of groceries in her hands just yesterday.

Cynthia felt Henry's body going limp in her arms so she removed her mouth and sat upright running her fingers through his shaggy brown hair.

She didn't want to drain him right way, at least, not yet...

She gasped in pleasure against his mouth as she felt her naked sex rubbing comfortably against his own exposed sex organs.

Always read and always willing.

"Awwww, poor little baby," she cooed softly, "rest while I continue to pleasure you..."

Henry could scarcely hear her now, his eyes were fully shut and everything that he heard now was a silent murmur, but he could feel lips going down his body, his aching tired body. Lips with teasing tongues that licked the shower water off his skin and followed by deep sensual kissing. Now if he (god forbid) wanted to enjoy this he couldn't for he felt like a rag doll giving up on struggling, giving up on screaming for someone that would never come, giving up on hope to be released from Cynthia's sexual restraint. He didn't even respond to Cynthia's lips on his organ cradling it gently in her hands as she kissed it tenderly, and drew it slowly into her mouth.

"Cyn..." he started to moan, trying to wake up from this erotic nightmare,"Cynthia, should I.....do...?"

"No sweetie, now be a good Mijo and just lay there, I don't want you to cum, I want to be greedy with this pleasure this is all for me, not for you..."

It didn't make any sense if she didn't want him to cum than what did she want?

Cynthia's mouth made sucking noises, resting her palms lightly on his thighs she tasted that essence again, only this time it tasted...like sweet gingerbread on Christmas morning...in all her "old experience" it never tasted like that before. No, this was not some fluids she would just spit out; it was Henry's life essence, his void, the will power he had exercised with his battles against Walter and the nightmares it provided. That was what she wanted; she wanted his will to live so she could be young and immortal forever.

She didn’t see his head tilt back clutching the bed sheets with his weak fingers trying to ease every muscle in his body and the heat of blood reaching his head (not the one Cynthia was busy with) making him sweat and his temples pounding slowly from the work received from Cynthia’s teasing cock game.

He begged a quiet plead as he felt her nails pressing deeply into his inner thighs.

She had died once and she never was going to die again.

Her body throbbed and became a heart of its own, beating in tune with Cynthia's sucking, the folds of skin that were her clitoris were fastly becoming numb and wanting to have Henry's cock pressed up against them in order to become one. She took her mouth out of his cock and mounted the space between her legs over his groin.

"All right then..." she said in a soft whisper looking down at him lovingly, "Tis a pity that you won't be awake for this Henry...but it’s for my own body's sake than that of your own"

She shoved his cock into her vaginal opening and the tightness made her grab the metal bed frame and indulge in the pleasure it felt, her body screamed for more and shoved it back and forth in rhythmic pace on top of the unconscious man. She would not let herself climax and be done with it, no, he was just too sweet-she fucked him harder, her clitoris screaming for her mouth to join in utter release but in the case of this lovemaking; it was all a mind over matter. Her head was tilted back, her eyes fluttered shut for only a moment when she heard the sound of gasping, and coughing, she opened her eyes and stared down at Henry's form beginning to move and open his eyes.

Saying not a word, Cynthia released her hands from the bars of the headboard and gripped his wrists pinning them to the sides of his head, all she wanted to do was to stare into his sweet innocent eyes and let her body move back and forth to her own pleasure. Now his own skin was throbbing with hers, the gliding of his body against the sheets and the sound it made was like music to the whore's ears, she gazed at his chest moving up and down, almost hypnotized by its sway. However, the heat and the firmness of their organs made him cringe narrowing his eyes at the beautiful woman that had become an ugly rapist in his eyes.

"Do not look away from you little boy," she snarled making Henry's blood run ice cold, "stare into my eyes and tell me you love this, tell me you 'love this'!"

Henry gritted his teeth together as every sense of his body became more awake and sensitized, he felt his cock being banged up and bruised from the relentless fucking that he was being forced to deal with. The man was now afraid of Cynthia to close his eyes in response to the sexual stimulation they were both going through. Never had he been more scared of her in his entire life, he wanted Walter to come in and murder her again, end her life so he could get free of this fucking prison.
At least someone to do the honors at this point he did not give a damn in hell.

"I said...TELL ME YOU LOVE THIS!"
"If I do...will you...let me go...?"
"Just...say...it..."

"I..." he gulped, what would really happen, the tight vaginal wall rubbed his cock faster, if it didn't stop, it would no doubt chafe afterwards,”I...lov-Cynthia...I have not done anything to you like this...I tried to save you...is this why you are doing this-PAYBACK FOR NOT STOPPING HIM YOU CRAZY BITCH!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP AND SAY IT I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!” She roared in her fiery passion.
"All right..."
"Do you love it-?"
The bed squealed loudly under the weight of the two people.
"...y-yes..." He shuddered.
Cynthia still with his cock shoved all the way up her body, leaned in closer, wanting him to say it again.
"I...love it...Cynthia..." He sobbed.

Three sounds were heard that night: The squeaking of the bedsprings, Henry's crying and him saying repeatedly that he loved what Cynthia was doing to him.

And the last out of the three was a lie.

Cynthia drew back her neck raising her breasts up so beautifully over his face hiding her expression of that of total bliss as he laid there emotionless too scared to even scream.

"Ohhhhhhh oh Henry," she groaned,"OH GOD HENRY.....!"

Her body shuddered under the sexual pressure of his manhood thrusting all the way up into her vaginal wall. She tucked her knees under his buttocks and lifted them up to force more of him inside of her until she was finally in that hazy sea of lust and power.

"HENRY!" She screamed,"So nice......so strong......AHHHHHHHH!"

It was then that it was all over, her eyes became soft and gentle like a cartoon fawn, and her lips curled back into a warming smile. She felt gentler now on his body kissing his neck and chest as she finished her climax. The feeling her breasts heaving against his chest still he could remember to this day.

A climax that only Cynthia gave. Henry on the other hand had none; his body was not to be a shared pleasured by them together but for Cynthia only. He felt her get off him and started to get dressed looking at him the whole time as if she was expecting him to make his escape from the bed. But he just laid there awake but unmoving.

Neither one of them said anything as Cynthia put her clothes back on.
Once her clothes were on her body, she walked over to the window.
"Eileen would have never given you what I have," she said,” remember that..."

Suddenly, thick leathery bat wings busted from Cynthia's back spraying tiny droplets of blood on the carpet.

"Farewell..." she said quietly, as she leaped through the window spreading her wings out as wide as he remembered her legs when she got on top of him.
Henry still lay there, feeling as if all that energy had been drained from his body, he did not even have the strength to turn his head and watch Cynthia leave.
Not that he wanted to look at her that is.

--------------------------------------------

It was seven twenty-eight on Gwen's watch and the blonde-haired person had stood outside of Henry Townsend's door ringing the doorbell for what seemed to be like the eighth time. Dressed in her strapless red dress and wearing a black coat and black heels. She let out a sigh and knocked on the door again.

"Henry," she cried,” Henry it’s me, Gwendolyn White, open the door!"

The End

I hope you all enjoyed it! My first sex fic! It feels so wrong to make Henry a victim all the time and yet it feels soooo right! And just in case some of you ask: Mijo is spanish for "little man" I always thought maybe that would of been Cynthia's pet name for Henry...well...I look foreward to your reviews!