The pure and simple pleasure of it was intoxicating. The sharp initial contact followed by careful, needful ministrations. It was all so perfect. And it occupied his mind day in and day out.
The first had been by accident, unintentional. Well, as unintentional as it could be. The decision was his to make and he allowed it, marginally.
He just hadn't counted on it being so damn pleasurable.
The basic feral need that arose in him was as intoxicating as any liquor, and definitely better then the cheap knock off brands he had once been addicted to as if his life depended on it.
No, this had been far better and a lot deadlier.
Perhaps it was the ever present feline fear that made it pure bliss. Or just the simple fact that, for a small time, he had been needed. Needed in a way that he hadn't experienced very often.
Or maybe it was the fact that he just really got off on pain.
Or to be more precise, pain that he gave him.
Every time he was knocked up against a wall, or death threats were thrown at him, he couldn't help but get a little hot and bothered.
It was ingrained in his very nature. He couldn't have stopped wanting it anymore then he could've stopped breathing.
The full onslaught of every shove, the sharp painful tightening of a noose around his neck, the sharp crack of shock that came with every punch he gave him. It got to him in every way, every time, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't not crave the next lick of pleasurable pain that he would give him.
It was all so addictive.
Which then brought it all full circle to that hellish urge that was now imbedded deep within him. It hadn't let up and it was always lurking beneath the surface, begging him to get the feeling back. Bring back the twinge of skittishly sidestepping death as inch length fangs sunk into him, claiming and marking his very soul with their mere presence. The feeling of being so completely helpless that it became all he was as the vampire stole from him his life.
Bring back the bittersweet feeling of knowing it would never happen again because that damnable vampire couldn't admit that he loved hurting him.
The first had been by accident, unintentional. Well, as unintentional as it could be. The decision was his to make and he allowed it, marginally.
He just hadn't counted on it being so damn pleasurable.
The basic feral need that arose in him was as intoxicating as any liquor, and definitely better then the cheap knock off brands he had once been addicted to as if his life depended on it.
No, this had been far better and a lot deadlier.
Perhaps it was the ever present feline fear that made it pure bliss. Or just the simple fact that, for a small time, he had been needed. Needed in a way that he hadn't experienced very often.
Or maybe it was the fact that he just really got off on pain.
Or to be more precise, pain that he gave him.
Every time he was knocked up against a wall, or death threats were thrown at him, he couldn't help but get a little hot and bothered.
It was ingrained in his very nature. He couldn't have stopped wanting it anymore then he could've stopped breathing.
The full onslaught of every shove, the sharp painful tightening of a noose around his neck, the sharp crack of shock that came with every punch he gave him. It got to him in every way, every time, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't not crave the next lick of pleasurable pain that he would give him.
It was all so addictive.
Which then brought it all full circle to that hellish urge that was now imbedded deep within him. It hadn't let up and it was always lurking beneath the surface, begging him to get the feeling back. Bring back the twinge of skittishly sidestepping death as inch length fangs sunk into him, claiming and marking his very soul with their mere presence. The feeling of being so completely helpless that it became all he was as the vampire stole from him his life.
Bring back the bittersweet feeling of knowing it would never happen again because that damnable vampire couldn't admit that he loved hurting him.