Profane
Maybe he craves her so badly because she's everything he'll never be.
She's his opposite, his anti-thesis. Sure, they do share a few traits - half of him once belonged to her, after all; like him, she's stubborn, cunning and somewhat vain. But other than that, they could not be more different.
She's sweet while he's sour. She's kind while he's cruel. She always wears her heart on her sleeve, while he stows his deepest emotions away where nobody will see them, not even her.
But most of all, she's innocent. Despite her flaws, he always sees something like a halo around her, like the very essence of the purity of her heart, the gentleness and beauty of her soul. And opposed to her, he instead keeps something ugly and dark and rotten within him, like a festering wound. He's a stranger to her kindness.
And he grows to hate her innocence and her beauty. He hates what he cannot comprehend, and in him grows the obssession to strip away her innocence, to defile and corrupt her until her soul is left to rot just like his; an obsession that turns into hunger, like a beast craving for blood.
The beast does not wait for long.
They're alone, far away from prying eyes. He's hungry for her, more than he has ever been, and although she keeps avoiding his gaze he can tell she craves for him as well; it's almost palpable, delectable. Her fingers are fiddling with the belt of her gi, and amber eyes watch them closely, impatiently-
The cloth finally slips off her shoulders, and he drinks in the sight of her naked body for the first time. She's pudgy; he can see rolls of fat in her hips and belly, he can see how her arms and legs are slightly thicker now that they're free from their constricting cloth, he can see how plump her breasts are. Her cheeks turn a slight tint of red upon exposure, and instinctively she wraps her arms around herself.
And he snarls. And the boiling frustration in him intensifies, because this revelation just makes her more beautiful in his eyes while making him more aware of the rot inside him. And as her eyes finally meet his, he can see that she's afraid of what will come, and yet she still yearns for it.
He can't stand it anymore.
His clothes are instantly discarded, and soon he's on top of her, his rough hands exploring every inch of her flesh - so soft, like pink, plush velvet under his fingers - and his tongue licking her every crevice, defiling every inch of her body. And she lets him; she welcomes his touch as she earnestly presses into him, her moans and sighs filling his ears like sweet music. And the craving in him grows restless; he needs more of her, more-
He enters her, and the warmth that envelops him sends him over the edge. He's beyond reason now, driven only by primal, feral desire; his movements are rough and powerful, and there is no kindness in them. Her moans soon turn into screams, and she's calling out his name, leaving crimson trails on his back with her nails and pressing her hips against his to get more of him inside her. Her face is flushed, her eyes glazed over with lustful bliss, her body trembling underneath his-
A spasm courses through her body as she clings on to him, finally reaching her climax. And his face twists, something ugly and savage and almost painful resurfacing in his expression as he arches back and releases into her, trembling hands holding her soft, plush love handles. She squirms under him, exhausted yet content, and the beast in him stirs again as he licks his lips.
He's not satisified until much later into the night. By that time they're both shaking with the aftereffects of their lust, and even with his hunger satisfied he feels empty, frustrated. The dark rot inside him only grows larger.
He turns to look at her, and she's already sleeping. She rests right alongside him, pressing her body against his, seeking for his warmth. He can still smell his scent all over her, but even when she's sweaty and dirty and exhausted, she remains beautiful to him.
The placid look on her face as she sleeps is like a punch in the gut to him. And he realizes that her innocence and kindness are things he cannot strip from her.
He feels sick, and he considers leaving. But he can feel her heartbeat as she presses her chest against his, he can hear the sound of her gentle breathing against his fur. So instead he chooses to stay, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck and inhales the sweet scent that sends chills down his spine.
He allows himself to forget, if only for a little while.