#ptn rust

Whispers whip around your ears, the room fallen into distorted shapes and shadows. It presses you down and holds you up, it keeps you in place as he coils you tighter and tighter. It was unstoppable, inescapable, the lull his hands pull your body into, to strive for every hardened insistence he makes on it even as he presses more fervently into your curves.

His eyes, gleaming with eager bloodlust as he watches you gasp, shuttering and struggling towards and against him. Your fingers clawing then pulling and clawing again as you shiver. As always, his actions are pointed, meditated maneuvers on your skin all so you can shatter on your sheets that are heavy with his cologne. Red markings carve their way down his throat and into yours as frenzied, manic whispers eagerly lap up the idea of breaking you down enough to become one in a truly inseparable way.

You could feel the warning in your bones, sharp, pointed spikes glimmering in response, eager to tear into his flesh as his Mania is to tear into you. Yet, you still pull his lips to yours, still enthusiastically meet his rhythm only to shiver away then back again. You bite his lip and he groans, fists balling as his teeth find your flesh in a tender yet forceful embrace. A dance that won't end until tears are pulled from your eyes, until you're left with no choice but to release those crimson spikes so he can reach the dizzy euphoria you're in now. Until you're left worn to your bones with a shuddering beast of a man in front of you, ravaged on Shackles.

Inch by inch, he's taking from you so deliciously, drawing you weaker by the second and your sanity teetering on collapse, holding thinly to the thread of your Shackles; your foreheads meet, his eyes dimly illuminating his features that almost seem to warp at their edges, rocking you closer and closer until—

Until you're too weak to hold on anymore. Your thread snaps as your body collapses and the spikes impale you both and his arms snake tightly around your waist, his body rolling into them as you tremble. A calloused hand grabs you, forcing you to once again meet his scarlet gaze, and between listless breathes of waking wonder, he brings you down again to catch your breath and mix it with his.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to let you out of my sight again."