continued from here:: { @mcnaiir }
It was all a battle, a fierce war filled with gnashing teeth and snarled breaths and desperate hands to gain purchase on clothes, skin, anything they could get their hands on. They lived, and they breathed in the violence and tension that hummed between them like lightning and thunder, a clash of titans. And he loved it. Every scrap of anger that simmered under his skin was so easy to release in the impact of punches and clawed out in brawls that sparked from simple arguments over the tv. Hal loved riling the werewolf up, more so now that he lavished himself on blood once again. And oh, he reveled in the growls he could draw out, the irritation that sprang to fore, the hot headed recklessness that seemed to ooze from Tom when he fought. It was heady, the adrenaline that came with it. Almost as good as blood, and perhaps, sometimes, even better.
It was amusing, seeing how far he could push and pull and force the wolf, the boy who cared for him far too much than his nature should allow. To see how far it could go, before Tom would reel himself back just a little, stop himself from driving one of his many stakes through his dead heart. Pure bliss, every time he’d stop himself short, tip of wood prickling against his chest, the taunt of an eternal death so close. Intoxicating, just like Tom himself, when he allowed those thoughts to be entertained.
He’d loved the werewolf once, the better part of him had, and while a soulless demon like himself could never perhaps, truly express such sentiments well... there was something there. Something akin to affection, the closest he could get to love. He wished no true harm on Tom, felt rage boil under skin when he’d come home with wounds littering skin, when others would dare threaten the boy under his charge. And it was these thoughts, one that prowled underneath every fight, every moment Hal let himself get too close, inhale far too much of the raw scent of TOMTOMTOM, when his inhibitions were low and high at the same time. That he slipped. Let the different hunger in his belly loose.
It’s all teeth clashing and moaned breaths shared in gasps between frantic kisses and it’s so GOOD, has him aching for more, anything more, that he can claw from the wolf. Pinned Tom to the wall and taken everything he could get with the intensity of a starving man - and oh, it had been too long, the want and desire to do just this, slowly building and building. Like a dam breaking, desperation clung to every press of hands to Tom’s shoulder, his side, anything he could touch. And it’s a slightly torn sort of sound that escaped him, half growl, half desperation, as he was pushed back.
His mouth felt stung and heavy, as it curled into a small, though no less smug sort of smirk. Head cocked to the side, like a bird, as he observed the effect he’d had on Tom, despite his words to the negative. And his own words are crooned, like silk, deadly and dripping with sin.
“Oh, but I am him Tom. You know I am. Or, perhaps I’m the closest you’ll ever get to him now. Surely you didn’t find it that displeasing.”