[ They aren’t in Rin and Sen’s apartment. They aren’t anywhere at all, save in one another’s arms, save in the wild and rising heat of engagement (play) (pursuit) (affectionate devastation), save in an ecstasy of pain received and pain delivered. The world is built of Enri and Darius exalting one another, promised threats written in adoration, praise in every scrape of teeth and sharp-eyed grin, praise in the sudden ragged rending of Darius’s throat, shoulder, he’s going to bear a mark there, that’s going to stay with him for weeks, that’s going to scar (another gift from his Puppy; another gift from god).
Oh, Puppy.
Oh, Love.
He thought the words or he spoke them or they simply sang ecstatic through his head.
There’s a laugh in his throat, low and shivered. He feels shivered through, struck with sharp sparking between his shoulders, through his ribs, running down to thighs, to groin.
It isn’t only the bite in its intensity; it’s Enri’s eyes, as well - glinting vicious, fervent - and the tease of Enri’s teeth, the bite that doesn’t draw blood, that tests against the will of god and shows that Puppy, Puppy will obey, but not without first cutting his own mark, his mischief, his own will executed as (beautiful) (perfectly played) disobedience. It’s the growl - prelude to a storm - that preceded the bite, that lingers still in Darius’s knowing. And it’s the knife pressed - barely, barely, ah, not near enough (Puppy’s taking his time; Puppy’s being a rotten little tease) - to Darius’s thigh. A pressure he wants closer; a bite he wishes, and yes, he nudges his thigh up against the blade once, twice, an invitation and demand.
Hissing an exhale, breathing a wishful sigh that becomes a moan, imperative. ]
Wretched tease.
Beautiful boy.
[ Wouldn’t he love - fuck’s shit, he would love - to feel Enri’s hand against his wound (to feel Enri all over, yes, yes, he wants Enri’s touch at every inch of skin), to feel Enri rend him a dozen and more times and coat the world with Darius’s blood. So that all the world might know god, and there is no one, there is no one better suited to this work than Enri; there is no one beside Enri who deserves to touch his blood, let alone to set it running.
He would bleed rivers, oceans for this man.
He draws his knee along Enri’s thigh, deliberate, breath turning to a groan.
He butts a snarling nuzzle against Enri’s head. Scrapes his teeth along Puppy’s jaw. And grins. And, snarl turning to a hummed sound, withdraws, head high, speaking command— ]
Rend me, my Enri.
Pin me.
[ And, leaning closer, voice tending lower, prowled with a lethal purr— ]
Will you take my heart, Love? Shred it out and takes its blood all for your own?
Show me, Puppy.
Show Daddy what ruin you can make.
[ Darius draws Enri for a kiss, sudden and sharp and pressured, needful, staggered briefly by a sharp bite of Enri’s lip, blood to accompany this sharing, blood to take the kiss deeper, Darius rising upward, hand at the back of Enri’s head twining tight through close-cut hair, to hold, as if to offer no escape, as if the boy were caught, while the other hand grabs Enri’s collar, yanking himself close yanking Enri closer, Darius arching his back into the kiss, Darius feeling the flare of the bite and wanting, yes needing more. Needing ruin, blood.
no subject
Oh, Puppy.
Oh, Love.
He thought the words or he spoke them or they simply sang ecstatic through his head.
There’s a laugh in his throat, low and shivered. He feels shivered through, struck with sharp sparking between his shoulders, through his ribs, running down to thighs, to groin.
It isn’t only the bite in its intensity; it’s Enri’s eyes, as well - glinting vicious, fervent - and the tease of Enri’s teeth, the bite that doesn’t draw blood, that tests against the will of god and shows that Puppy, Puppy will obey, but not without first cutting his own mark, his mischief, his own will executed as (beautiful) (perfectly played) disobedience. It’s the growl - prelude to a storm - that preceded the bite, that lingers still in Darius’s knowing. And it’s the knife pressed - barely, barely, ah, not near enough (Puppy’s taking his time; Puppy’s being a rotten little tease) - to Darius’s thigh. A pressure he wants closer; a bite he wishes, and yes, he nudges his thigh up against the blade once, twice, an invitation and demand.
Hissing an exhale, breathing a wishful sigh that becomes a moan, imperative. ]
Wretched tease.
Beautiful boy.
[ Wouldn’t he love - fuck’s shit, he would love - to feel Enri’s hand against his wound (to feel Enri all over, yes, yes, he wants Enri’s touch at every inch of skin), to feel Enri rend him a dozen and more times and coat the world with Darius’s blood. So that all the world might know god, and there is no one, there is no one better suited to this work than Enri; there is no one beside Enri who deserves to touch his blood, let alone to set it running.
He would bleed rivers, oceans for this man.
He draws his knee along Enri’s thigh, deliberate, breath turning to a groan.
He butts a snarling nuzzle against Enri’s head. Scrapes his teeth along Puppy’s jaw. And grins. And, snarl turning to a hummed sound, withdraws, head high, speaking command— ]
Rend me, my Enri.
Pin me.
[ And, leaning closer, voice tending lower, prowled with a lethal purr— ]
Will you take my heart, Love? Shred it out and takes its blood all for your own?
Show me, Puppy.
Show Daddy what ruin you can make.
[ Darius draws Enri for a kiss, sudden and sharp and pressured, needful, staggered briefly by a sharp bite of Enri’s lip, blood to accompany this sharing, blood to take the kiss deeper, Darius rising upward, hand at the back of Enri’s head twining tight through close-cut hair, to hold, as if to offer no escape, as if the boy were caught, while the other hand grabs Enri’s collar, yanking himself close yanking Enri closer, Darius arching his back into the kiss, Darius feeling the flare of the bite and wanting, yes needing more. Needing ruin, blood.
Needing Puppy. ]