Tails X Knuckles Novels & Stories

Then I was completely wrong. Not even giving me time to breathe, Xander pushed his large cock inside me. " I will fucking kill everyman, that even try laying his eyes on you." Saying he increased the pace of his thrusts. Fucking me ruthlessly. "Aah. Alex..." I moaned. My Knuckles turned white due to gripping the edges tightly, but the pleasure made me ignore all the discomforts. "Don't ever try making me jealous." His groans missed with possessiveness were like music to my ears.

And then he’d crossed his skinny-ass arms across his fuckin’ Metallica tee like he was ready to throw down or something. Punk ass poser. His knuckles hurt. He opened his eyes and held his hand in front of his face. Yeah, he’d punched something. Fingers scraped. Knuckles swollen. Black and blue and sorta yellow and, fuck me, red? Broken? He flexed his fingers. Nah, this was a wood punch, not concrete. Not flesh or bone. Wood. “It’s shit,” he’d screamed at Spike, his fists clenched. Fuck counting back from ten. “It’s fucking shit, man. I just want it fixed. It’ll take two fuckin’ seconds!”

Likewise, Knuckles grunted as another palm strike drove into his ribs, forcing a step back. Someone near the railing scoffed. “He’s letting the bastard tire himself out. Watch.” “Doesn’t look tired to me,” another replied. Below us, Misha pivoted low and drove his knee up toward Knuckles’ gut, followed immediately by a snap of his elbow toward the throat. The sequence was so fast, it almost didn’t look real. Vincent let out a soft, thoughtful exhale beside me. “Huh.” Knuckles took it all. Not gracefully, but he absorbed the damage like stone. Relentless. His grin spread, wider now, baring teeth.

A gleam of silver shot toward Blake's chest. Although Blake didn't know what the shining object was, he could feel a sense of extreme danger. He dodged quickly to avoid Caleb's punch. However, he did not dodge quickly enough, and it grazed his abdomen. He felt a piercing pain at once, and Blake realized that Caleb was wearing brass knuckles. However, the brass knuckles were different from ordinary ones. There was a steel needle that was about an inch long on the middle finger. Blake said angrily, "Caleb, you are shameless! How can you wear brass knuckles in a martial arts battle?"

“Hate to break it to you, boys, but you just walked into the wrong bar.” Jaxon didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He vaulted over the table like it was nothing, landing with a predatory grace that drew gasps from the onlookers. His jeans hugged powerful thighs as he landed in a crouch, knuckles flexing, tattoos curling over his forearms like inked shadows. His knuckles cracked loud in the silence.

It looked like an ordinary hand — strong, calloused, faintly scarred across the knuckles the way a person's hands got when they'd spent a life fighting for things. Also sexy, the voice in my head reared its head. "Watch," he said. He closed his fist, and for half a second, a moment so brief I might have missed it if I hadn't been staring so hard, something shimmered beneath his skin, a thin thread of silver-white light tracing along his knuckles like the veins were lit from within, and it was gone before I could be sure of what I'd seen. "Cillian." My voice came out barely above a whisper. "What was that?"

She asked, showing me her fist. “Yeah, that is it. Now watch as when I throw the punch how my body moves with me and I shift on my feet. Now slide your dominant foot back slightly, but keep them shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees a little, so your knees aren’t locked but you also aren’t uncomfortable. Now when you throw the punch, you want to use the first two knuckles as your point of contact.” I paused to give her a chance to get into position.

I see his car starting to disappear into the distance. I cry out in pain , as soon as his car disappears. A stinging sensation erupts from my knuckles and flows it’s way all over my body – stopping at my heart ; the pain linking up. My fist stays against the wall – my punch did little to no damage to the wall. The wall was attacked but it was my knuckles that suffered the blow. Pulling my fist away from the wall , I stare at the blood that leaks from my knuckles. Red is pretty.

“Alright, let’s start with how to throw a punch,” Bryan said after we stretched and warmed up. “It’s all about technique, not strength. Make a tight fist with the thumb curled on the outside of the fingers. You’re going to hit with the first two big knuckles. Never hit with the fingers. They’ll break.” He demonstrated, pointing out the knuckles with his other hand, and I copied him. “Good,” he continued. “Now, spread your feet apart, one foot in front, one in back. Press your feet into the ground, and keep the knees slightly bent and flexible.”

And I didn’t care even slightly because my pussy had been clenching around my fist for the last two minutes of forced silence. It was done being patient. And I unmuted Sasha. "Okay guurrll?" Sasha continued. Panting on screen. She had apparently been continuing without me. Her own hand visibly thrusting under her lace. "Don't think we're done. Pull that fist out slowly and then ram it back in. Every. Single. Ridge. Of your knuckles... I want your pussy to feel every single one." I pulled back. And my cunt gripped my knuckles on the way out with a creamy squelching drag that made my vision bend. My folds stretched obscenely outward. Clinging. Refusing to let go until the widest point of my kn