stl: nine inch nails, 'closer'
He had grown so tired of running.
This was not a fate he could escape. His mind fought a constant battle: raise the white flag of defeat or run to the ends of the earth like a coward. For so long he had chosen the latter option. For so long, he kept a vigilant watch over his shoulder. And it all came down to this moment; he pressed himself flat against the wall and waited as his pursuer crept closer.
The muscles in his back tensed and rippled with every carefully chosen move; he was at once the most beautiful and most horrific thing he had ever lain eyes upon. His full lips curved into a Cheshire grin, teeth gleaming in the waning moonlight. His eyes were a deep scarlet that sent wave after wave of panic though him.
Everything about him screamed predator.
A muscled forearm reached out, strong hand wrapping around his throat as fingers dug into the flesh. If he had been human, the anger would have been palpable in the form of searing heat but instead the rage rippled under the surface as he closed the distance between their bodies. The smile twisted into something more primal, deadly, as he nudged his cheek, inhaling the fear, the anxiety.
"P-please." It was a pathetic sound in the darkness, high pitched and whining. It was a useless plea and he knew it. Nothing he said, no move he made would speed up this chess game-- he had been in check for too long now. He was too patient and calculating.
The end would come on his terms only.
He could swear to God and every deity he had ever known that the other man's lips danced lightly across his face, landing for just a moment on his lips. Every fiber in his being panicked, sought for an escape, urged him to fight and flee but the tendons and sinew refused to cooperate and he remained at the mercy of his captor. Without a moment's hesitation, there was no longer doubt. Soft lips crushed against his, bruising them with the intensity of the kiss. Warily, he reached out to explore the contours of the well defined arms that had him pinned to the wall as their mouths battled for dominance.
Too soon, he pulled away.
He could feel the rumble of sardonic laughter before it reached his consciousness-- the bastard was mocking him. Before he could voice his disdain for the farce, the warm lips were back, gentle this time, silently asking for entrance. The fierce grip around his throat loosened into a near intimate touch, fingers tracing along the taut muscles of his neck. The razor sharp teeth nipped at his bottom lip causing him to jump ever so slightly. Another quiet chuckle echoed in the night as the kisses grew almost non-existent.
"Why are you doing this?" Even to his own ears he wasn't sure that he had said anything at all. One more tender kiss before the world spun into complete pitch.
"You bring me that much closer to God."