[TW for the story below]
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Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Waves crash and the boat rocks. Everything moves miles a minute but is perfectly still. The nothing in view suffocates, then, in mind, comforts. Too-rough hands clasp hard on the wheel, rhythmically pulling down on every rising tide, everything safe and sound under his control.
He shies not away from the storm, even though the thunder has long since given way to an empty, gray sky.
For once the bunny did not cry, instead staring wordlessly at the vast gray husk.
In the throes of ecstasy himself, he can't help but feel insulted, "What's with that look?" he asks, tapering his serious tone to a casual chuckle, "Not having fun?"
He receives no words in response, only grunts so low the bunny must be stifling them. His thoughts twist his lips and furrow his brow. His hips keep rocking. He sweats furiously and snorts steam from his nose, all to no end. Those pink eyes sit affixed on the wall, holding no light, no joy, sadness, or even fear.
A growl dying in his throat, he takes the bunny by the shoulders and flips over, "How bout a smile?" he pleads, pushing a finger into the bunny's cheek. The quasi-smile he forces lasts only for the blink of an eye. The bunny remains stonefaced, finding the ceiling just as interesting as the wall.
He gnashes behind his lips and increases his pace.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
"Tell me you love it."
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Only silence louder than the creaking and gasping.
He has to hold his tongue and grind his teeth. The bunny was no stranger to being a brat, but to say nothing at all? To play dead and act like a statue that can blink? Impudent little shit.
His lips parse, yellowed fangs nearly chipping each other, "I can't believe you." he snarles, hurrying his pace once again.
The bunny shuts his eyes, going from grunts to whimpers.
"Everything I do for you and your mother and you just want to ignore me?"
Furied paws go from squeezing the bunny's shoulders to cracking his wrists. Fangs approach the neck. Hot, haggard breath hits square in the face.
"You know the overtime I had to pull for all your Christmas gifts?"
Up. DOWN. Up. DOWN. Up DOWN.
The bunny's lip quivers slightly, but still no words. The threats slung at him are as empty as his mind.
The wolf feels his claws emerge.
What fun is sailing still waters?
Snorting and huffing, he sits up, straightens his back, and pulls the bunny close. He grips the bun's ears tightly in hand and pulls them taught. A wince and no more.
His pace hurries faster. The waters are boiling and the stupid little bunny doesn't even realize. Grunts become growls become snarls as he slams away at full force.
The bunny begins to quietly cry as he is speared.
There is madness in his eyes now, the familiarity of his room becoming mud in his ears. He can't speak. He can't see. He can't hear. But he can still feel. He can feel a velvety softness in his paw, evidence of innocence made to be defiled.
It must be him. It HAS to be him.
The boat capsizes. A flood of passionate fury rushes in. He grips as tight as he can on the bunny's ear. His spine flexes and cracks as he lunges. His gnarled, yellow fangs come together. He finally receives his wish.
"AAAAH!!!" the bunny screams, desperately thumping and thrashing at his chest, making the teeth only sink further deeper.
"Rrrggghhhh..." the wolf growls, deep, gutteral, and savage. The mud in his ears gives way to ringing, vision blurring, body burning.
Agony. Ecstasy.
In a moment of weakness, his arms fall.
The bunny kicks off and crawls away, leaving a trail behind him. He once again falls to whimpers, curling into a ball and caressing his ear.
He comes back to reality, realizing the taste of metal on his lips. Like it were instinct, he turns and collapses against the pillows, sighing wearily and contentedly.
A fresh pack of his favorite cigarettes sits on his bedside table. A treat for a treat he thinks as he shamelessly lights up, breathing a happy moan into a cloud of smoke. He all but glows for a few minutes, the bunny finally registering in his mind only at the end of his smoke.
The bunny shivers violently, tail tucked down under his rear, ears pulled tight to hide his tear-stained face.
There is a brief pang in his heart as he looks away to stare at his dead cigarette, blood still dripping down his chin. One lick and he grins once more.
"Don't cry, kiddo. Where I'm from they call that a love bite."
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Sequel to this.
Pseudo-prequel to this
Just a little insight as to how Eli got his scars and a peak into how his thought process developed after the first time ig. I didn't initially intend for it to be from Voight's perspective, but it's not like Eli is thinking any thoughts until he's forced to. Here's hoping I've fleshed out the wolf more as a character! :)
A million thanks to \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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