"I could spend hours between your legs, teasing... sucking, tasting you."
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*Completed & Slowly Being Rewritten*
Previous title: Cabaret of Whispers
One night stands were supposed to be simple with no strings attached. But when Ax...
He was everything that was wrong in the world. The things he had done as a prospect for the club made him sick. The actions that followed after he had earned his cut made him want to gouge out his own eyes so that he didn't have to relive the nightmare every night.
But that's just the thing, memories do not need eyes to be seen.
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Ax was still waiting. He was a tired mess with his eyelids slowly closing and the yawns that were heard only by him. He tried to stay awake, he needed to stay awake.
Ax knew that if he surrendered to the infectious and chronical disease that was sleep, he would find himself back in the darkness. It wasn't the kind of darkness he used to play in, the one where he would unleash the beast and let him have his way. There was something terrifyingly addictive about Ax's darkness, something magnetic. Not many people could say they possessed that.
But his beast did not survive only on sexual gratification. No, he loved causing pain to his enemies. Loved seeing their blood stain his clothes and body. Loved hearing them beg for mercy. But most of all, Ax loved playing with their minds.
During his days as a prospect for the club, he had done quite a few things, each and every one of them ensuring that his beast was fed regularly. Some days, he could still feel how it felt to press a small Swiss blade across their bodies, feeling them flinch as the cool metal came in contact with their fragile skin.
Ax had never killed anyone, he had never taken a life even if the opportunity had arisen at some point. He had been the judge, the jury but not the executioner. He had simply played with them for the club's sake. The victims were usually criminals so he felt no remorse at his actions. But at that moment Ax wished he could have been better, someone with a normal life.
He reminisced the few nights the little dove had spent in his house. He had watched her sleep, sometimes playing with her soft black hair and other times simply gazing at her moonlit figure.
He never slept those on days. There was this doubt inside of him and it kept him from lowering his guard in that way. It was different, he was different. His time in prison had changed him. Before he served time he was a lot more carefree, albeit idiotic. There had been so many women. Hoards of nameless, faceless women. Sex had been just sex.
A lot of people believed that during sex a person was at his most vulnerable, but he begged to differ.
Ax believed that sex was the most overestimated form of attachment. In reality sleeping with someone, just sleeping was the most intimate. You laid there, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of whoever was next to you. In those moments you revealed all your little quirks, you were vulnerable and Ax had never enjoyed vulnerability. So when somebody came and practically demanded his vulnerability he couldn't help but feel oddly self-conscious, it wasn't a pleasant feeling.
