#Chapter149
As the potent burn scalded his lungs, filling them up and filtering back out in thick, smoky waves, Raven closed his eyes, savouring the sensation.
He hated the taste of cigarettes. Hated the way they smelt. Hated the way it lingered on your breath and stunk up your clothes. But fuck, he lived for the way they made his chest feel like it was caving in when he drew in and held that shit there.
Twisted perhaps, but it was the lesser of two evils; the only other thing that seemed to calm him the way the burn did was during an intense play session. Something about watching somebody's flesh change colour, watching welts settle on the flesh, or bruises decorate one's neck like a pretty little choker, it was intoxicating. Soothing, even. It settled the darkness inside him. At least for a while.
