05-08-2014, 03:58 PM
Dane felt his expression fall heavy. The gaiety of before that held him posed between two utterly distinct, yet strikingly similar worlds abandoned him. What was left behind was a seemingly human creature. His skeleton was covered in flesh. His chest moved with each slowly drawn breath. Outwardly, he was a human male, one quite clearly transfixed by the retreat of the woman who'd been his obsession for months. Inwardly, he was a storm barely contained. One of rage, lust, and domination. The sensation of power he'd wielded to cataclysmic ends in the past, now served to heighten every visceral sensation rippling electricity through his body until he was numbed to all of it. Like the hand of his soul burned so badly the pain turned cold.
When Aria left, her friend whimpered at the absence. Dane paid her enough attention to strap bonds over her knees and shoulders, lain across soft as the feel of cold sheets on a warm summer's night. She did not notice her own captivity and instead continued to reach for him. Hands clutched at him, words swirling with salacious pleas for attention from his fingers, his tongue, his cock, anything. Dane ignored her; Aria was searching for something, and Dane had a silent hope for what it was.
The knife he used in the alley was something not so out-of-place in a kitchen. The wickedly sharp blade was single edged and curved: a paring knife. The kind used to peel the skin from an apple or other fleshy fruit.
She came toward him, and for the first time in his life, Dane witnessed a naked woman wielding a knife with deadly intent. The resulting imprinting upon his soul was permanent. Saliva built up around the edges of his gums. His breathing quickened. And a gleeful smile smeared itself across his mouth.
Then, rather than return to her lover, she circled to Dane. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. He could see her shadow on their wayward victim broken by the block his shoulders. A cold edge drew up his spine, and gasping, his back arched instinctively. He did not move, however. He wanted to relax backward into the embrace of her arms and sandwich the sticky weapon between their skin, each of them blessing the tool for the instrument of reunion that it was.
Instead, Dane’s lids lowered. Every facet of him was ready to lash out, but the part of his mind that needed the intimacy of the kill, needed more than he’d ever experienced before. He needed the connection with another killer, to see the light in Aria’s eyes as she extinguished another’s. He needed to witness the instrumentation of anguish if only to understand his own deliveries of the same. If such were granted to him, life from there on out would be forever changed. Only in those final moments between life and death did he come close to understanding another being. With Aria and the blonde conduit, he could understand another being in ways never before experienced. He needed that contact like he needed air, and it never occurred to him that his life was in Aria’s hands.
He was a passive voyeur of her violent act. The blonde struggled at first, confused by what was happening, but Dane’s bonds held her from escape. Aria’s lips curled sadistically and sanity frayed from both their grasps. A naked woman with a knife, carving her helpless victim, and feeding off the high of what passed between them, it alighted Dane’s soul with delight that was only enhanced by powers he did not understand; more so when Aria smothered the woman’s screams. It flowed through him like rapture, a delirium of euphoria he could not explain nor reproduce on his own. The reporter’s eyes were saucers, her mouth contorted in frenzied panic. Streams of red bubbled from the holes in her body, and near the end, Dane thought Aria was going to mutilate the woman’s genitalia, but it seemed Aria was disinterested in pleasurable flesh. It was another connection between them, as Dane had little interest, and less experience, with such anatomy.
Aria’s sin ravished him of all outward reaction. He barely realized the warmth of bodily fluid on the side of his thigh when he accepted the knife from her. The grip was slick in his palms, which he wiped on the mattress to clean his hands of blood, before holding firm.
He looked at the corpse. It was no longer oozing, but frozen forever. The lips were parted, the eyes still wet. It was a precious span of time when the body was an empty shell but not yet decomposing. These moments were beautiful, but transient.
He ran a palm along the body in ways he wanted to do with Aria, but that did not satisfy him for long. He laid himself onto it, perched on one elbow and brushing golden hair from a peaceful face. The salt of her sweat prickled his lips when he kissed her brow. The instrument went alongside. He felt himself warm and his innards writhe with desire. There were things he’d long contemplated to do with corpses, and here the opportunity presented itself perfectly. Aria could be the voyeur then, but when he looked back to her, Dane’s desires pushed him away from the body. He left the knife, thick with blood, alongside. His mind raced with momentary indecision, wanting more than one thing at the same time.
He grabbed Aria by the arm and flung her on the bed alongside her dead lover close enough their arms were pressed together. Her hair splayed dark along the dingy white of a mattress soaked with redder splotches. Her eyes widened like she gasped at Dane’s sudden movement.
He straddled her, chest heaving with exertion and strain. The cords in his arms and neck surfaced. He snatched the knife, its blade sickled like a red crescent moon, and held it over her with both hands. His lips licked themselves frantically while his body wanted to rip itself apart from the power surging within. His bones were going to sear themselves to dust, but he was frozen to act.
Sensations bubbled upward from where his hips rested upon hers. It was subtle at first, but the presence of another human slowly grew in his mind, something he’d only known once before in his life - the night they met in the graveyard. By the time he steadied the knife, ready to thrust its wicked point into her throat, the tranquility of her mind had leached into his, and his desires altered. He licked his lips and this time found them salty. He was sweating in the surprise to learn he didn’t need to kill Aria to possess her. Just by merely touching her, he was inside.
He threw the knife away, grabbed her and kissed her hard. Then he made love for the first time in his life, and to a living, breathing woman no less, unlike those that harbored his dreams. Though if Aria were to look while in the midst of his passion, she would find him groping the corpse during the act.
When Aria left, her friend whimpered at the absence. Dane paid her enough attention to strap bonds over her knees and shoulders, lain across soft as the feel of cold sheets on a warm summer's night. She did not notice her own captivity and instead continued to reach for him. Hands clutched at him, words swirling with salacious pleas for attention from his fingers, his tongue, his cock, anything. Dane ignored her; Aria was searching for something, and Dane had a silent hope for what it was.
The knife he used in the alley was something not so out-of-place in a kitchen. The wickedly sharp blade was single edged and curved: a paring knife. The kind used to peel the skin from an apple or other fleshy fruit.
She came toward him, and for the first time in his life, Dane witnessed a naked woman wielding a knife with deadly intent. The resulting imprinting upon his soul was permanent. Saliva built up around the edges of his gums. His breathing quickened. And a gleeful smile smeared itself across his mouth.
Then, rather than return to her lover, she circled to Dane. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. He could see her shadow on their wayward victim broken by the block his shoulders. A cold edge drew up his spine, and gasping, his back arched instinctively. He did not move, however. He wanted to relax backward into the embrace of her arms and sandwich the sticky weapon between their skin, each of them blessing the tool for the instrument of reunion that it was.
Instead, Dane’s lids lowered. Every facet of him was ready to lash out, but the part of his mind that needed the intimacy of the kill, needed more than he’d ever experienced before. He needed the connection with another killer, to see the light in Aria’s eyes as she extinguished another’s. He needed to witness the instrumentation of anguish if only to understand his own deliveries of the same. If such were granted to him, life from there on out would be forever changed. Only in those final moments between life and death did he come close to understanding another being. With Aria and the blonde conduit, he could understand another being in ways never before experienced. He needed that contact like he needed air, and it never occurred to him that his life was in Aria’s hands.
He was a passive voyeur of her violent act. The blonde struggled at first, confused by what was happening, but Dane’s bonds held her from escape. Aria’s lips curled sadistically and sanity frayed from both their grasps. A naked woman with a knife, carving her helpless victim, and feeding off the high of what passed between them, it alighted Dane’s soul with delight that was only enhanced by powers he did not understand; more so when Aria smothered the woman’s screams. It flowed through him like rapture, a delirium of euphoria he could not explain nor reproduce on his own. The reporter’s eyes were saucers, her mouth contorted in frenzied panic. Streams of red bubbled from the holes in her body, and near the end, Dane thought Aria was going to mutilate the woman’s genitalia, but it seemed Aria was disinterested in pleasurable flesh. It was another connection between them, as Dane had little interest, and less experience, with such anatomy.
Aria’s sin ravished him of all outward reaction. He barely realized the warmth of bodily fluid on the side of his thigh when he accepted the knife from her. The grip was slick in his palms, which he wiped on the mattress to clean his hands of blood, before holding firm.
He looked at the corpse. It was no longer oozing, but frozen forever. The lips were parted, the eyes still wet. It was a precious span of time when the body was an empty shell but not yet decomposing. These moments were beautiful, but transient.
He ran a palm along the body in ways he wanted to do with Aria, but that did not satisfy him for long. He laid himself onto it, perched on one elbow and brushing golden hair from a peaceful face. The salt of her sweat prickled his lips when he kissed her brow. The instrument went alongside. He felt himself warm and his innards writhe with desire. There were things he’d long contemplated to do with corpses, and here the opportunity presented itself perfectly. Aria could be the voyeur then, but when he looked back to her, Dane’s desires pushed him away from the body. He left the knife, thick with blood, alongside. His mind raced with momentary indecision, wanting more than one thing at the same time.
He grabbed Aria by the arm and flung her on the bed alongside her dead lover close enough their arms were pressed together. Her hair splayed dark along the dingy white of a mattress soaked with redder splotches. Her eyes widened like she gasped at Dane’s sudden movement.
He straddled her, chest heaving with exertion and strain. The cords in his arms and neck surfaced. He snatched the knife, its blade sickled like a red crescent moon, and held it over her with both hands. His lips licked themselves frantically while his body wanted to rip itself apart from the power surging within. His bones were going to sear themselves to dust, but he was frozen to act.
Sensations bubbled upward from where his hips rested upon hers. It was subtle at first, but the presence of another human slowly grew in his mind, something he’d only known once before in his life - the night they met in the graveyard. By the time he steadied the knife, ready to thrust its wicked point into her throat, the tranquility of her mind had leached into his, and his desires altered. He licked his lips and this time found them salty. He was sweating in the surprise to learn he didn’t need to kill Aria to possess her. Just by merely touching her, he was inside.
He threw the knife away, grabbed her and kissed her hard. Then he made love for the first time in his life, and to a living, breathing woman no less, unlike those that harbored his dreams. Though if Aria were to look while in the midst of his passion, she would find him groping the corpse during the act.