[SMUT WARNING! DARK!MURR AND KNIFEPLAY!]
Shaking with anticipation as the cool metal of the blade presses against your neck, you exhale weakly and stare up at him with eyes heavy with both terror and arousal. Murr is so confusing when it comes to sex for you have every right to be terrified yet how he makes you feel is fairly comparable to the high of a drug. So good, so intense, everything you've ever needed; rough and unloving but calculating and careful. Such a contrast that it has your knees knocking.
Dark eyes trail down your naked body (the knife having aided greatly in undressing you) and your own close as he presses the point of the blade lightly against your pulse point. Tongue clicks, neck twitches and then his lips are so close to yours that you consider pleading to be kissed by him.
James takes his time, watches as you arch up the slightest bit to press against his still-clad body.
"You're a glutton for punishment aren't you, sweetie?" he coos, the movement of his mouth brushing your own as you whimper. The man takes pity on you, presses a tiny kiss to your mouth... before descending into a maddening pace that has you gasping for breath. Tongue shovels into your mouth and the taste of him, one that should be revolting considering the things he's done and the people he's killed, stains your senses raw.
Kisses halt, lips trail and he begins to bite hard at your neck. Yelps escape you, stunned yet expectant as he leaves raging marks and presses the face of the knife into your side; you lurch away from the cold, body brushing his without his consent. Murr straddles your thighs, stands on his knees above you and he looks so intimidating you almost wish he'd just kill you.
"P–Please, James– I need you."
The plea has him smirking, lips curving attractively as he slides smooth metal down your stomach and watches your lips tremble with silent moans. The image of you begging for him, telling him how amazing he is... it feeds his narcissism like air feeds his need to breathe. Metal circles your nipple very suddenly and this time you can't stifle the moan that is torn from your throat. The man grins, pleased.
"Need me? [Y/N], is that true? You know I don't like lies," Murr whispers, voice teetering between hot and cold as you await his venomous touch. "It'd be a lot better for you if you didn't try to appease me with bullshit."
"I– I mean it, please." You're ashamed with your begging but he doesn't appear to be averted to it. Instead, he sighs outwardly, as if you're a burden, before gliding the tip of the knife down your stomach and watching as your eyes flutter shut and a shaky breath passes your lips. It's fascinating, how subdued he has you in the wake of his ability to destroy the life you've worked so hard to build and it doesn't go unnoticed as you lay your life completely in his hands; it's not his plan to kill you for he has far too much fun with you... but the option being there makes it even better, gives him thrills that can't be explained to anybody who doesn't experience them first-hand.
Head leans down and his tongue pokes at your navel, testing you, watching as you shiver under him before he grows bored of the lack of movement and trails downwards to your groin. There, he presses an assortment of surprisingly soft kisses before his tongue slides over your wet folds. Murr purrs, a mock-surprised 'ooh' reaching your ears.
"So wet, [Y/N]! Something tells me you like being under the knife."
Puns. Puns at a time like this, and had it been anybody else you would have groaned and been turned off completely - but the way he pushes his face into you and how his tongue begins to move lightning fast, making you shake and shudder and moan, makes up for it. Your hands cling at bedsheets for you don't dare touch him without his say-so; you've been conditioned with both fear and reward that you know what the man likes, know when to lay still and take it and when to prove you're worth his time. Whether to fuck like your life depends on it, or simply let him go about it like it's business.
A loud yelp escapes you when Murr's teeth lightly graze your clit before they're replaced with his mouth sucking greedily on the wet little nub. Maddening pleasure, it drives you insane and you feel as if his name - the mantra that falls from your lips as he takes you closer and closer to your end - is the only thing you know.
Tongue is inside of you, taking samples of your most intimate area and it's only then that you register that you're screaming, so in awe of the way he's treating you that you can't keep the noise back. And this seems to please him for he keeps going, tongue slipping in and out and the smile he wears flush against your folds.
When you're about to orgasm, James pulls away and watches as your eyes fly open, a breathless 'no!' leaving your lips - in reply, his hand snaps around your throat and squeezes; you're scared out of your mind, but somehow that only works to elevate your sense of awareness, body sparking and fizzling with delight. Murr leans in.
"You only get to finish when I want you to. I control it - got it?"
Stupidly, uselessly, you nod as he smirks and loosens his jeans from his hips, erect member forming an impressive tent in his underwear as he looks down at you.
"You know what I want."
Wasting no time in clambering to your knees, you slide his underwear down his thighs and take his length in your hand, jerking it a couple of times before settling in an all but bowing position in front of him and taking him into your mouth.
The initial sound of pleasure he releases spurs you on, lets you know you're making him feel good in the haze of confusion that is your libido. Because after all, since when have you been so promiscuous so as to enjoy the feeling of a knife being pressed to your neck? To anticipate the unforgiving coil of his hand around your throat threatening to squeeze the life out of you? To want him to hurt you?
Lips wrap tightly around him, leaving no room for error as you suck him hard. Retrieving the knife from beside him, Murr throws his head back and clutches it tightly. He's nowhere near done yet, nowhere near complete, but the feeling of you descending onto his length with furious bobs of your head is certainly taking him closer. The heat of your mouth, the warmth of your tongue sliding over his head every time you pull up for air, the way you're so low in front of him, it all makes for the perfect concoction of twisted pleasure.
"That's it, sweetie... you know what to do..." James encourages, voice dripping with seduction, free hand coming to sweep hair out of your face as you take him to the base and remain there for long enough to struggle for breath when you come up for air. "Oh, that's good... good girl."
The praise makes you feel sick - sickeningly good, and it's with disheartening glee that you continue on, wanting to earn all the noises you can from the frightening man. Psychopathic both in nature and in touch, you feel the blade being pressed under your chin and prompting you to look up. Eyes shift to do so but upon meeting his intense gaze you look away once more.
Murr doesn't agree with that, digs the metal in a little so as to threaten to spill blood. Wide pools of [E/C] meet his and he beams with satisfaction.
"You're doing so good... but it's time to change it up. I can tell you want me inside you. Don't you?"
"Please, James..."
His lilt of a giggle reaches your ears, so deceptively sweet as he pushes you backwards to lay down, him entering you roughly without a warning. The sudden fill is a little much, has your brow arching in light pain - but you don't expect him to care, don't expect him to even notice as he begins slamming into you at a pace so hard and fast that you're wailing almost as soon as he's begun.
Knife discarded for the meantime, a hand reaches into your hair and pulls it hard so that you're looking at him just the way he wants, nose resting against yours as he ploughs into you without abandon. Hissed words, snippy syllables and promises of persecution should you disobey him, they all deliver such hot sensations to your gut that you reach hands to his shoulders and hold him as close as he allows you to.
"Oh– Oh, James, you're so–"
A particularly hard thrust from him has you banging your head against the headboard, a scream of pleasure escaping the confines of your throat as he reaches his free hand and pinches one of your nipples so toughly that you attempt to lean away from him. He doesn't like that.
"So what?" he growls, mouth leaning to close over the abused nipple, his tongue rolling it and his teeth lightly tweaking as his eyes level up and stare at you, forcing you to maintain eye contact in the way he stabs ice into your spine."Tell me or I swear..."
You know better than to ask what he'll do for you've discovered in the past that yo never want to know what he's capable of. "G–Good."
You always get worried when Murray smiles for you have to remind yourself that an animal bares its teeth when it attacks - and based on what you've seen of him, he's anything but human. Still, the grin he sports is so frustratingly attractive that you can't resist meaning the word as you feel your orgasm approaching once more.
"James–"
"You can. I want you to. Scream for me, or I'll give you something to scream about."
Head falls back against the pillow, body arching as you legs wrap around his waist and tug him in deeper and you cum hard, release spurting from you so powerfully you fear he'll get angry at the mess you're making. Thick and sporadic, a gentle stream akin to urine and the only difference being that he's pleased with this fluid. Triumph frames his face.
"Woah, you came hard, [Y/N]! Did Ol' Murr make you feel that good?"
You're heaving for breath, stars infiltrating your vision as you nod.
"Well I'm about to go one better. Hope you're ready, because I won't wait."
And then he's cumming with such ferocity that he actually lets a groan, a loud one, loose, thrusts becoming messy as he fills you to the brim with himself. Hips jutting lightly, hot jets of euphoria spurting inside of you and trickling down your legs once he pulls out and huffs, wiping a hand over his face and through his low-cut hair.
Once he's calmed enough to see straight, the male simply looks down at you; stares at past cuts he's had to deliver due to disobedience, takes in the sweat that soaks your skin as yo concentrate on coming down from your high rather than the way he's scrutinising you; relishes in the mouth-watering sight of you reaching a hand to lightly clutch at his own - and, just this once, Murray doesn't refuse it, lets you cling onto his fingers so tight your knuckles turn white.
His hand moves to rush through your hair, knuckles lingering with feather-light touch as he shifts hair out of your face and tilts his head slightly to appear judgemental. However, you know better: he's anything but displeased.
"You enjoyed yourself?" he coos, voice deceiving in its kindness as he slides from your body and moves to lay beside you. On the outside of the bed, same as usual - so that you don't make a beeline for it; so that you don't run, and if you try then he's awoken.
"Yes..." Panting uselessly, you don't even flinch when he wraps an arm around your body, clinging tight enough to constrict you against his naked form whether you want to be there or not. Just this once, you decide that you do.
Just this once, everything feels relatively normal.