It's that familiar cold pit that burrows holes in your stomach that propels you, the urgency of the pull of your lungs, the agonizing burn of your throat that feeds into your need; your desperation.

You are worthless in that you have nothing more to offer in order to keep him. There isn't much you can do to invade his thoughts and to change his mind, but you're already moving out of habit; this is your true nature, after all.

A creature that thrives only when in the spotlight of your desire's view. Fragile trash that tries to shine as brightly as diamonds and glitter just to make him happy; happy enough to give up on the hate.

Those beautiful things...

You are neither.

Your nose nudges the frayed fabric hanging at Saeran's neck away. That metal and earthen twang of his blood and sweat assaults what is left of your good senses.

"Saeran..." You could have easily lost him. The disciple could have just as easily not returned. Your own grip on his shoulders tightens as your lips find purchase on damp, heated flesh.

He gasps, chest shuddering in the most heady of ways. "Wha- Lamb, what are you...?"

You want.

You are selfish.

You're frantic.

You need.

You crave the taste of him; to hurt him in the ways you know he likes and please him... to make him forget everything in this world, besides you. You want to satisfy him in the only ways you know how.

You yearn for proof that he's still alive, that this isn't just some fever-dream brought on by too many hours spent staring into static. Proof that he's warm and breathing, truly here in front of you and safe.

You desire for him to stay that way.

"H-hey..." No more revenge. No hatred. You want to invade his thoughts, to rewrite all the bad in his memories with every brush of your tips against his ivory flesh. Each nibble to serve as a battering ram for the walls Saeran has put up; each suck targeted to break down his insecurities. "Mmnn fuck..." His words rumble low and hush in his throat in such a lovely way.

You yearn to have him drown in you, safe with you so that you can swat away all the negativity that wishes to consume him; to protect him from all the ugliness revenge and guilt will cause to rush in, like a rare mudslide onto freshly fallen snow. You can't stand the thought of him in that state.

He is pure.

A damaged soul, yet still so innocent. Even in these circumstances. Even as you crush your body to him, wrapping around him like a flimsy coat against a winter's storm. Even as you bite at him where ever your lips land; neck, collar, shoulders and back to his jaw, licking him in between each, tasting the salt of his perspiration and the startling iron lines of his minor injuries.

The reasons he's hurt, the duties he feels so fatally obligated to...

You want to wash it all away, take it into yourself and let it lay wayside to rot.

"Mnnn..." Dizzying thoughts race through your head, but you are too preoccupied to think in depth; the raspy moans that echo in the shell of your ears in blazing puffs and garbled would-be words set your nerves on fire.

Only when your ass is bruising in a line and cool plastic is gripped in your fist do you realize that you've pulled Saeran from the floor, tugged him along in your primal endeavor to silence the video-gone-neglected and bring to your parched throat that delicious water that makes all feel right.

When had you moved your hands from him?

You can't recall.

You pull away from the hot and slick skin, scarlet by your abuse, enough to sloppily fill your mouth, unfazed by the line of honeyed liquid that dribbles down your chin.

"Haaa... Haaa..." It is only when you take this moment, needy delirium melting away with every gasping breath through swollen lips, you note the sting and dull ache of fingernails curled into the back of your neck and the calloused warmth of the hacker's thumb stroking the line of your jaw.

Stunned by the power that one single digit could wield, you are awed, thrilled by the hazy half-lidded stare fixed on you, following the forceful trail as he manages to tilt you; craning your neck until it's a chore to even swallow.

But, your eyes look down your cheeks at him, taking in the depth of burning sage that is studying you.

His gaze melts you.

He fans the flames of your weak fire until you're sure there's nothing but a puddle left of you within this inferno.

And god, is it still famished.

More.

Squeezing, you allow more of the sweetened drugs to glide down your throat, aware of the hot attentions watching how the muscles work the fluid lower and lower. He yanks the bottle from your hands and you allow the rough treatment, excited, letting the thing fall onto the floor, forgotten.

Warned by only a whining growl, teeth and lips attack your sensitive and exposed flesh. a litany of slurps and smacks like an angels chorus when in any other situation would be gross. Not now... definitely not now. You could live and die a full and happy life if all it encompassed was this man, these sounds and the glorious sensations that he pulls from you with those lips, teeth and that soft and shy little tongue that is drawing lines in wet heat along your jugular and up to catch the stray droplets of sweetened medicine.

"Ahaaaa~" Pathetic mewls and breathy gasps escape your slackened and plumped lips; the embarrassing sounds dust you up to your ears in a flush of pink, but your need overrides all of that. Palms rubbing, grabbing, scraping and scoring all that is in your path once you manage to sneak into his shirt.

You aren't entirely a mindless animal though, you know what you're doing. His breath puffs out in shudders when you claw at him; he challenges you, encouraging you on a chuckle and a lick along your collar before capturing your lips and swallowing down your moans.

So warm... God, you feel so warm, and yet, all your feverish body is craving is more.

His shirt is lifted by the height of your grasp, his stomach and those delicious little abs flex the more he moves. You're so close, you can feel it. But it just isn't enough.

You could never get enough of him.

Forced by the pesky need to breathe, you are the first to break from his intoxicating kiss. Sweet and bitter, the faintest taste of blood still upon your tingling lips.

"Mmm... haaa..."Saeran hasn't let up, doesn't allow your disconnect to phase his target as his nose trails the echoes tickled humidity in open-mouthed kisses along your cheek and jaw. Calloused and scraped hands tangle deeper into your locks, pulling. You can't help the buck of your hips against the thigh that's stationed between your legs. The friction nearly makes you sputter, coming out only as a couple of little gasps.

You had a purpose... What were you doing again?

Hardly can you string a single thought together, your mind is abuzz with his scent that surrounds you, the wonderful aches he's inflicting, the heat he's ignited in sparks along your spine resounding all over as a flame in search of fuel; that boiling need sunk deep into your core wanting nothing more than to be impossibly closer to him. Barely even do you register your own breaths. Still, you wriggle against him, wanting more of that pressure.

Knowing that it is this hacker that is doing this to you... It's almost more than you can handle. You've never lost control like this and the idea is both terrifying and thrilling.

White and flame-tinged fringe fall upon your own cheeks in bunch, dried sweat and flecks of blood dirty the tresses as finally you vaguely remember, slackened, your digits soften along the planes of his slick and steaming back.

You wanted him drowning in you; wanted to make him content in your arms, in your touch.

Of course you couldn't help but to sink before him. Saeran holds so much power over your mind, your senses... But is he only doing this out of his own reflex; following along just because this is what he himself has formed in habit? Is this how he staved his mother's wrath in a past not yet fully forgotten?

"W-Wait..." It's a fight, but you gain control of your hands bringing them around, running up his lithe frame and pass over the indents of every one of those scrumptious muscles, pressing him away from you. At his resistance chasing the lost kiss, you almost cave, giving in against the disciple; your weakness, lips agape and full, respiration wracking him in rapid yet deep sway. "I..."

You feel sick.

The depth of his pupils ringed in molten sage threatens to devour you whole and a exhilarated little shiver rolls through you. But in the blues and static light bathing the disciple in the allure of night, through the lust that blinded you and the selfish needs that even still consume you, you see Saeran... Really see him.

He's hurt.

He's tired.

He's probably confused as all hell.

Besides, who are you to pull this stunt in order to make him forget? You couldn't re-direct his purposes if your life depended on it. You are both selfish and unworthy. You really should know your place, it's not like you could ever have any significant impact. You aren't enough of a permanent fix.

You are no match for the hacker.

"I'm..." It's hard to catch a breath, but you manage after a quick minute. Clearing your throat, you struggle to find words that will eek out, stunned by his still-panting visage as you lick your stinging lips. He looks dangerous, delicious covered in blood with those eyes staring at you, appraising the marks that are undoubtedly blossoming along your skin. "...sorry... for all that...?" You flick your wrist about for emphasis and clarification.

"Are you really?" Panting, he quirks a brow at you, a smug grin threatening to surface if the twitches at the corners of his mouth have anything to say.

You feel nauseous, having forced yourself on this man you care so much for. How could you?No longer are you the toddler wrapped in belts and tape, rather you are your uncle; trying so desperately, disgustingly to have these parts of him. Do you really have the right to say that you care about him, or are you just playing the part?

If so, you aren't doing a good job of it.

"Y-yeah..." How do you explain yourself? Do you expose yourself, be honest? "I shouldn't have jumped you like a creeper-rapist."

Well, half-truths count, right?

It's not as eloquent as you'd like; you took so much of the medicine, your head isn't the clearest and speech is difficult to formulate. So stuck in your self-pity and guilt, that pile of garbage that is your soul as your body cools, you almost miss the boyish chuckle behind his battered hand.

"Creeper, yeah... I can see that." Between breaths he sighs. "Rapist though? Nah."

How stupid. Your heart flutters with these weird words, picking up enough speed you worry that maybe he can hear it. But he's lying, you're sure of it.

"I literally just jumped your bones and tried to have my way with you." Deadpan, you pause for greater effect and to cover for the fact that your mouth has gone bone-dry. "Total crime."

It's not far off. You had thoughts of doing so much more; never have you spoken about such things with him, never had the kind of permissions those certain acts definitely require.

It's not right.

There is no way he'd want you in that kind of way. No matter how you hunger for him, more of Saeran; the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours, how you fantasize about intimately introducing your tongue to his most sensitive and ticklish spots... He isn't some sex-toy to be used and manipulated.

Just what kind of monster are you?

"Nope." He ends the short sentence with an obscene pop, a smirk showing that straight row of teeth, incisor begging to be sunk into your fevered flesh. You are oversensitive right now shivering pleasantly to that thought, added to the surprise of amnesty and sight of such an expression amidst his bloodstained features and frayed clothes is something close to exotic; so dizzying, you have to look away. "I'm irresistible~."

At that, you give him a light-hearted glare; grateful for the redirection.

Hell, he's not wrong though.

The glare withers, weak to begin with.

"Pfft...!" And, it's gone. "I couldn't help myself." You wink, his nose wrinkles in disgust.

"Stop that." He grunts at you, lowering a heavy brow of derision upon you.

You wink again.

"Ughhh."

You do it again, yet fuck it up when you snort trying to hold in your giggles when his eyes widen around that scrunched expression.

This... this is much better. Banish it, get rid of those thoughts and that tense air.

"Shut-up~!" The whine is purposefully grating and you pinch your nostrils closed. "On another note~!

You smell like armpits and dirt, muh-guy." You stick your tongue out, pretending to shudder and gag.

It's just a cover, of course.

The man doesn't stink, really. A hint of musk and the metallic, earthy hint of his scrapes tickle your nostrils but you don't mind it. You want to take care of him; clean his wounds, dress them... dress him in crisp, laundered clothes and take away all the grime and discomfort... To erase the shameful moments you stole from his body. You feel so dirty, so guilty.

You need to cleanse him of you.

There is no need to trouble him with the awkward tension caused by your own disgrace.

You just want to make it right.