You don't know when you started leaning into his touch, from when you finally crossed that bleary line where your stomach twisted into something that felt almost like yearning. Sean's fingers brushed against your arm, sending warmth through your skin. You caught yourself lingering in the moment, savoring the soft way he looked at you as if you were a wildflower he had stumbled upon in an unkempt field.
You don't know what facial expression he has on his face, your back turned to him and your body cradled the warmth of his arms. The flickering light the Fireplace cast makes shadows dance across the room, making it feel more secluded, more intimate. His breath was warm against your neck, and for a moment you could almost forget the reality of your situation.
You think he has a contemplative look on his face. Considering what to say next, perhaps.
"Do you remember the first time we met, face to face I mean?" His voice was a low murmur, a tempting whisper that resonated in the stillness, pulling you back to that fateful night when everything changed. You turned your head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of his expression and confirm your suspicions—something almost soft and almost vulnerable yet still in deep thought.
"I try not to," you admit, turning your game back to the fireplace once he locked eyes with you. "It's easier to forget." You mumbled, your heart fluttering as he tightened his grip around your waist.
"Easier to forget…" he repeated, his tone one of vague amusement. "What an interesting way to respond." He said, the smile on his face audible in his voice. There's another moment of silence shared between the two of you, a part of you finds it interesting how you no longer see it as suffocating as you used to.
"Y'know, I honestly think I prefer you like this when you're actually responding to me instead of just ignoring me."
You shrugged lightly, a half-hearted attempt to play off his words, "Maybe I was just tired of pretending." you wonder why you used that word in specific, you weren't pretending during your months in the basement, and you know your past resentment that you've built up wasn't fake, but the way he held you now made the past feel like a distant nightmare, one that faded in the warmth of his embrace. "Pretending can be exhausting," Sean said, his voice low and soothing, as if he were trying to draw out the hurt buried within you. "But I think you're beginning to see things differently now."
"I… I didn't mean to say I was pretending." You corrected, brows furrowing slightly. "I don't know why I used that word, but I wasn't pretending." Sean shifted slightly, lifting your chin with his fingertips so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The firelight reflected in his eyes. "You didn't mean to say it, but it's the truth, isn't it?" he asked gently, more gently than you're used to. "We all wear masks in one way or another. I just happened to rip yours away."
You can't force yourself to respond, and for once he seems happy with your silence. A small smile formed on his lips, as he studied your face, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "It's kind of beautiful when you think about it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Finding the real you beneath all those layers."
You note in the back of your mind that he's uncomfortably close to your face, and yet the tension doesn't feel threatening. He looked pretty up close, you think.
"Sean…" you tried to pull away, but his hold on you was insistent.
"This…" Since when have you gotten so comfortable in his arms? It was a simple question, and under a slightly different context, you might've dismissed it. But it's not in a different context, and the thought terrified you.
"This isn't right," you stammer, trying to pull yourself out of his gasp, "God— what the fuck none of this-" You can't find the right words to describe how awfully insane this situation is, even as you wrestled against him trying to get off the bed "None of this makes any sense-"
Sean's grip only tightened, his fingers pressing into the flesh of your arms with a possessiveness that frightened you. "It's not supposed to make sense," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos in your head. "Life rarely does. But I can promise you this—whatever this is, it's real."
"No, no no no, y-you're insane!" You stumble through your words, wrestling with him despite how obvious it was you weren't getting out of this.
Sean's eyes darkened, a flicker of something wild igniting within them. "Insane?" he repeated, almost as if mocking the very notion.
"What's insane is how easily you've let yourself slip into this," he grunted, pinning your hands to the side of your head, a dull pain blooming from where his nails dug into your skin. "You're here now, aren't you? And the past... it doesn't haunt you like it used to."
"Let go of me!" you cried, trying to twist your body away from him, desperation flooding your voice.
"Why would I?" he asked softly, an unsettling calm draping over his words. "You say it doesn't make sense, but I know you…" His gaze bore into yours, searching for something deeper. "I know that deep down you understand that this is what's best for you." He paused for a moment watching your terrified expression closely.
"I know you love me, Doe eyes." The nickname makes your stomach twist in a vague sense of revulsion. You watch as his gaze finally flickers downward, a soft sigh escaping him as if he were disappointed in you. "But maybe you need a little nudge to admit it, huh?"
You refuse to answer him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of breaking down any defense you could think of.
"And you were doing so well." He whispers, speaking to himself rather than you, frustration tinting his voice. And that hint of frustration scared some part of you, terrified of the consequences to come when you've been behaving so well, you cursed yourself mentally, why did you have to always fight? Why couldn't you just let that gradual fall into something close to yearning just…happen?
You can see him mulling over what to do next, his calmness in this situation a little concerning considering the first time you were up here it ended with him strangling you because you struggled against him for reasons you rather keep buried.
"Maybe a little pain will help you remember," he said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he marked the edge of your resistance. The words hung heavily in the air, twisting the warmth of the moment into something sharp and jagged. Your heart raced as dread pooled in your stomach.
"Sean, please…" Your voice trembled, breaking under the weight of your fear and desperation. "I-I'm sorry I—"
"Don't give me that shit right now." He simply said,
his voice carrying a gravelly undertone that sent shivers racing up your spine.
"Sorry for what? Wanting to fight back? Wanting to escape?" He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, making every nerve in your body scream to flee while simultaneously igniting something unsettling inside you. "You think I don't see you? I see you more than you realize."
You squeezed your eyes shut as if that could somehow block out the reality of your situation. "I just want to go home," you whispered, the desperation clawing at your throat. His laughter echoed around the dimly lit room, bitter and cold.
"Home? This is your home now. Our home." He pressed his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin juxtaposed with the chill of fear that seeped into your bones.
His grip shifted with an unsettling ease, his fingers sliding from your wrists to your throat, a silent reminder of his power over you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, desperate to escape its cage.
"I try so hard y'know… to remember that you love me, that I just have to be patient." He pauses, looking as if he doesn't even believe his own words "But it gets harder every day." Sean mumbled, leaning back to grab something off the counter that you see, the dim lighting obscuring his movements. Your breath quickened, panic rising as you fought against the restraints of his grip.
"Sean I'm sorry- I didn't-" You trip and stumble over your own words, desperately racking at your own brain to think of something, anything, to delay the inevitable. "—I didn't mean to upset you!" you pleaded, your voice rising an octave as anxiety clawed at your throat.
You're quick to shut up when you feel the metal of the knife pressed against your neck. It felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment. Sean's expression shifted, his face an unreadable mask as he held the blade with an unsettling gentleness.
As he plants a kiss on the back of your neck, he remarks, "Lately, you've been like a little puppy. Always waiting for me to come home, eagerly talking to me, and even letting me hold you without much resistance." He chuckles, savoring the sound of your heartbeat against his lips.
You don't know how he's so… casual with this as if he doesn't have a knife up against your neck. Pressed up against flesh just enough to feel the cool metal. It's his hunting knife, you note, the same knife he's used to carve his name just above your heart, and truthfully you don't know why you pay attention to such an unimportant detail like that other than that the thought was grounding.
"Sean..." Your voice trembled, uncertain if you were reaching for him or trying to pull away. There was a strange thrill in being so close to danger, a twisted part of you that felt alive in the face of imminent harm.
He sighed softly as if your plea had bored him rather than stirred any compassion. "I'll give you a reason to say please."
His fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife, and for a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist.
"Say it," he breathed, almost tenderly, yet there was a stark edge behind his words that made your pulse race faster than fear should allow. "Tell me you need me." The knife pressed deeper against your skin; the slightest pressure mixed with the heat of his body made your limbs tremble.
"I… I need you," you whispered, the words tasting bitter and wrong on your tongue. It shouldn't feel so real, so necessary, yet here you were.
"Again." He urged, his grip never wavering, coaxing the truth out of you with a twisted gentleness that left your heart racing.
"I need you," you repeated, the weight of his gaze heavy upon you. The words felt heavy on your lips, you hated him for this; for making you say it. But there was an undeniable compulsion, a nagging sensation somewhere deep within that craved to please him even when logic screamed otherwise.
He laughed to himself softly, "This reminds me of when you tried to kill me." he mumbled, reminiscing on the memory. "But… it's different this time." Sean said, gaze lowering down to your neck, watching red beads slowly gather around the edge of his knife. Your breath hitched as the warm trickle of blood seeped down your neck, mingling with the heat of his body.
Finally, he pulled the blade back from your neck, letting it drag down the collar of your shirt, admiring the scars he'd left on your body. "Look how far we've come," he murmured, the knife now resting against your chest, dangerously close to where your heart thudded like a frantic drum. His eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and something darker, something you feared more than the blade itself.
"Tell me why."
You look up at his face with scared, confused eyes.
"Tell me why you need me if you don't want me to stab you in the chest."
You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat like shards of glass. "I need you because…" You forced yourself to say the first thing that came to mind, hoping— praying, that it'd be enough to appease him. "Because you're all I have," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Ah." He nodded slowly as if savoring the confession. "That's it then." A slow smile crept across his face, one that sent a fresh wave of dread crashing over you. His fingers danced over your collarbone, tracing the scars he had carved into your skin with an artist's care. "I knew it," he said softly. "You've become so accustomed to me that even pain feels like home."
His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "I can feel it… You're heart I mean, beating so damn hard in there." He cooed, "Is it because have this knife? Scared of what it might do to you?" You can see the cogs in his head turning, brows slightly furrowing.
"No, not scared. Excited." He corrects, his own excitement palpable. You can feel it wrap around your heart, tightening its grip with each word that escaped his lips. "You crave this, don't you? A part of you wants to know what will happen if you let go of all those walls you've built."
"Sean…" Your voice faltered as emotions warred inside you—fear wrestling against a creeping sense of acceptance.
"Don't say my name like that," he warned, something you refuse to acknowledge flickering in his eyes. "So… sweetly, I mean. It makes me wanna do things to you that I know you wouldn't like. But then again, the irony isn't lost on me that you also wouldn't be able to stop thinking about them."
Your heart raced as he leaned in closer again, his breath ghosting over your cheek, and you almost whimpered at the way the knife trailed down your chest. "Tell me you want me," he suddenly prompted.
"I… I want you," you found yourself saying, your voice barely more than a whisper. The admission burned in your throat, leaving behind a trail of shame and confusion. You hated that it felt so true even as it tasted like ash on your tongue.
He inhales deeply, his expression morphing into one of triumph mixed with something darker, something that made your pulse race. "You're so warm you know that," he murmured, the knife now resting just above the waistband of your shorts. "Tell me what you want," he urged again, his voice thick with hunger.
Your mind raced, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. You knew better; deep down, you understood the darkness that lay beneath the surface of his charm. But another part of you—a part that had been buried under layers of fear and pain—yearned for release. For connection.
"I… I want you," you mumbled absentmindedly, the words spilling from your lips as though you hadn't thought of its weight. "I need you."
His lips pressed warmly against yours, the warmth of his mouth igniting a spark that sent your heart racing in double time. It was a collision of fear and longing, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of something dangerous. intoxicating.
You can feel him tugging your shorts down with his finger, the fabric slipping away like the remnants of your will. Your breath caught in your throat as cool hands explored newfound skin, igniting a storm of conflicting emotions within you. Part of you wanted to push him away, to reclaim your dignity and sanity, but another, more primal instinct urged you to lean into the moment, to surrender.
"Look at you," he whispered against your lips, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Fuck, the first time I tried this I remember you panicking and kicking," He silently laughs to himself at the memory "Ruining the whole damn moment."
You don't respond, preoccupied with the stinging sensation of the blade digging into the fat of your stomach to speak. Drawing minuscule beadlets of blood that pooled in the divot of your skin, warm and viscous, as Sean's breath hitched with excitement.
"You fought so hard back then," he purred, his breath hot against your ear as if sharing a secret meant only for you. "But now? You're different."
His fingers ghosted over your body, trailing heat in their wake, teasingly close to that fragile line between pleasure and pain. "So willing and obedient to let me leave my mark on your body."
"Sean... please," you gasped, the desperation clinging to your voice.
"'Please' what? Use your words Doe eyes." he commented, his lips curling into a shameless smile. You stifle a pained whimper at how his thumb smeared the blood against your skin, eyes flickering down to take notice of how the ichor trickled down your abdomen and made a mess out of your underwear. You find it a little funny that he hasn't taken it off yet.
"Please," You start, hesitating to speak "Please don't stop" The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think better of them, and as soon as they were spoken. Sean's eyes lit up with a predatory glint that sent a thrill through your veins, intertwining fear with an unsettling excitement that had taken root deep within you.
"Fuck, I never thought I'd get to hear you say those words." He sighed against your lips, trapping you within another kiss that seemed more hungry than the last, his mouth crashing against yours with such fervor that made you dizzy.
His hands roamed over your body, rough and possessive as he explored every inch of you. "I've waited so long for this," he murmured between kisses, each word laced with a hunger that sent shivers racing down your spine. "To see you like this—so beautiful, so pliable under my touch." You want to recoil from his words, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead.
"Sean…" You repeated in a whimper every time he allowed you a moment to breathe, saying his name so sweetly as if it was a prayer of sorts. And maybe it was, as his hands finally rid you of your underwear, as he tossed it aside, and his fingers grazed you where you were most sensitive. A soft moan escaped your lips as Sean followed the delicate lines of your scars, hooded eyes watching as his fingers glided over your skin like a predator savoring its prey.
"Look at you," he breathed, genuine admiration coloring his voice as he reveled in the way your body responded to his, "You're perfect just like this." The way he spoke was almost mocking, yet there was a dangerous allure in his tone that sent heat pooling between your legs.
Your breath hitched as his hands groped at tender skin, igniting fires in places you had long kept cold. Fingers were slow to push into you, experimentally curling against your gummy walls, movements becoming more confident once he found the spot that had your thighs quaking.
"You're trembling. Does it feel that good?" He teased, scissoring his fingers in such a manner that forced a shuddery whine out of you. You couldn't have mustered a coherent response if you wanted to, only a soft whimper escaping your lips as his fingers explored deeper. "Oh, come on now," he taunted lightly. "Don't tell me you're shy all of a sudden."
" 'm not shy," you managed to stammer, though your voice betrayed you with its quiver. The sensation of his fingers worked their magic, drawing out sounds you didn't even recognize were yours.
"Then let me hear how much you need this, need me." He urged, eyes wide as if memorizing every single detail about you at this exact moment.
"Sean…" You moaned, the sound escaping before you could stop it as his fingers found that sensitive spot again, making you clench around him mindlessly. "That's it," He cooed, almost mocking you for how easily you've unraveled "I can hear it in your voice, Doe eyes. You're just a little thing, all confused and needy," he murmured, pumping his fingers in and out of your squelchy hole. "Fuck," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as he curled his fingers inside you, Abusing that spot over and over again.
Suddenly, when you've only just got into the rhythm he pulls his fingers out— Pulling a frustrated whine that he thinks you don't even realize you were making. But when he pulls you flush against his own hips— Making you acutely aware of how he's yet to take off his own pants, and even more aware of how hard he was, "Shit… You have no idea what listening to you whine and pant is doing to me Doe eyes."
His breath came out in shaky bursts, the tension radiating between you like a live wire. "You're such a good little pet, so eager for attention," he murmured, his voice low and sultry as he pressed his hips against you, forcing you to feel the heat of him through the fabric that separated your bodies.
"Sean…" The plea slipped from your lips instinctively, filled with a mixture of fear and something else—something undeniably primal.
"God, I've wanted this since that first moment," he confessed, his eyes darkening with desire as they roamed over you. He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. "To have you completely mine. And now… look at you."
He pulls you into yet another kiss, one hand holding your hips firmly so that he can grind against them whilst the other picks up the previously forgotten hunting knife. Dragging the cool metal across your skin, creating shallow cuts in the skin of your stomach that had throbbed.
"You look so pretty like this," he whispered, the knife lingering just above your navel. "Covered in your own blood, only for my eyes to see." You felt the sharp sting of the knife as he pressed it deeper, a rush of mixed sensations flooding your senses. Pain and pleasure danced dangerously together, blurring the lines between fear and desire.
Sean pushes your shirt up past your chest, exposing the delicate scars that paint your skin. The knife, still pressed against the soft flesh of your stomach, drew another trail of blood; the warmth seeped downwards, over the crevices of your groin, pooling against the dips of your skin and where his hand rested.
"Such a mess," he murmured, his fingers trailing through the crimson that glistened against your skin. He savored the sight, eyes darkening with a feral hunger that ignited a mix of fear and something else deep within you. "But it's my mess now, isn't it?"
"Sean…" Your voice trembled, barely even registering the tears that had been falling from your eyes. Tears that he kissed away, uncharacteristically tender as he shifted to free himself from the confines of his clothing. The warmth of his body pressed against yours felt electric, yet suffocating, as he slid closer, the knife still hovering perilously near your skin.
"I need you right now," he whispered, positioning himself so that the tip of his hardness brushed against the slick heat of your core. "You're mine and I'm yours. We're connected in ways that no one else can comprehend." His breath was ragged, filled with an urgency that made your heart race in time with the pounding in your ears.
The touch of the knife against your skin sent a shiver through your body, but it was quickly replaced with a sharp gasp as Sean finally entered you. He groaned into your neck as he filled you, his grip tightening on the knife in his hand. You could feel the blade digging into your skin, leaving uneven gashes on your chest, but strangely, it only added to the pleasure.
It's a little startling at how gentle he is with you, breathing thick and heavy, brows slightly furrowed in thought as he carefully watched your pained expression, his own body trembling with the effort of holding back. After a tense moment of silence, he slowly pulled his hips back, and thrust again, stuffing you to the hilt, forcing a ragged moan out of your lips.
"O—oh fuck," He groaned, watching with sick fascination at the way his cock seemed to shine with not only your arousal but your blood. "You're so tight," he moaned, his hips rolling in a delicious rhythm that had your toes curling against the comforter. "God, I've waited for this for long… Imagined it in so many different ways." He punctuated his words with a particularly harsh thrust that made you squeal, nails digging into the fabric of the bed beneath you— the off-white color now stained red with your blood.
"More," You whined, rocking your hips back into his own as he thrust into you again, the wet slaps of skin meeting skin filled the silence of the dimly lit room. "More," you gasped again, the word like a prayer on your lips as if calling out for salvation in this twisted sanctuary.
He leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss, holding your hips with such a tight force you were sure bruises were to bloom later on. But despite the pain, the sting of cuts rubbing against sweated skin, the mind-numbing pleasure of finally letting go was enough to drown out reason. You melted into him, abandoning the remnants of resistance that clung desperately to your thoughts.
"Does that feel good?" Sean asked between kisses, rocking his hips against yours—pathetic whines and moans spilling from your lips that he eagerly lapped up. His voice was low and gravelly as he buried himself deeper within you. Each stroke jolts your body forward before his hands dragged you back down onto his cock.
You managed to nod, speaking feeling like a distant memory as pleasure took the forefront of your mind. You couldn't think straight, your thoughts muddled with each thrust that sent waves of heat radiating through you. "Y-yes," you rasped, wrapping your legs around his waist, spurring him on to go deeper.
A request he gladly indulged in, shifting the way he held your hips up so he could plunge further into your sopping hole, embarrassing squelches made each time your hips connected with his pelvis. The knot in your stomach grew tighter with each rhythmic thrust that left you gasping for air.
Sean's grip on the knife tightened, and you felt a new wave of fear course through you as the blade bit deeper into your skin. "Tell me that you love this- fuck, please say that you love me—"
"I-I... Love you," you stuttered, the words barely able to leave your mouth before he kissed you again, smiling against your lips as if you had screamed it from the rooftops. "I love you Doe Eyes, I love you so much" He mumbled through the kiss, his hips picking up the pace as he drove himself into you with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
Doe Eyes is a pet name he had given you and no matter how much you hated it, hearing it now felt oddly comforting. "S-Sean, I love you too," you gasped out, your fingernails digging into his shoulder as you teetered on your own orgasm. Grinding your hips up against him in an attempt to make it come sooner, especially when you could feel the way his hips stutter, grip around you tighter than before.
"M' Gon—Gonna cum," You whimpered against his lips, tears streaming down your face. And you couldn't even tell if they were from plain or the overwhelming mix of emotions raging within you.
"Then cum f' me, show me how much you love me."
You didn't need any more encouragement. With a broken whimper, you came undone, your entire body tensed around him. Shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. He groaned out your name like a prayer as he found his own release, his movements becoming uncoordinated and erratic. Pulling out just before he came to cover you with his cum, pearly whites decorating the bloody mess your stomach has become.
The ache in your body—part from the rough treatment, part from the bliss of the high—was all-consuming. You couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction even as your mind raced with the reality of what had just transpired.
"Look at you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, "so beautiful, so perfect." He brushed a thumb over the fresh marks he left on your skin, a mix of blood and sweat coating his thumb "I should probably get you into a bath now," He hummed, shifting subjects "Don't want you to get an infection after all."
You tried to respond, but the words lodged in your throat, heavy and unyielding. The haze of pleasure lingered like a fog, making it hard to process what had just happened.
"Don't worry, Doe Eyes," he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss with a tenderness you weren't used to against your forehead. "I'll take care of you."