Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cover art by the wonderful Helios who you can find on Tumblr and Twitter!

The 

castle 

towered

over Pete.

He stared up at it–its jaws wide and welcoming, beckoning him inside. No other haven from the rain lashing down against his skin he skulked in through the open doors, shook his head like a hound to flick beads of water from his hair. They landed on mahogany floorboards.

When had the tempest come?

It was unclear–but Pete was frigid to the marrow, his white shirt hung loosely off his shoulders, soaked with rainwater just as his jeans were too. His clothes clung to him like a wintry skin shielding him from any hope of warmth. He looked up at the room: a tall arched ceiling hung overhead, dark red wallpaper, a silver mirror to the side in which he locked eyes with his reflection.

Was that him?                                                                                                                                                               ⸮miʜ tɒʜt ƨɒW
His eyes stared back at him                                                                                                                          miʜ tɒ ʞɔɒd bɘɿɒtƨ ƨɘγɘ ƨiH
traced with bewilderment,                                                                                                                             ,tnemrebliwed htiw becart
he looked older now                                                                                                                                               won ɿɘblo bɘʞool ɘʜ
his countenance tired and worn,                                                                                                             ,nɿow dnɒ dɘɿit ɘɔnɒnɘtnυoɔ ƨiʜ
something hollow in the curves of his skull                                                                                llυʞƨ ƨiʜ ʇo ƨɘvɿυɔ ɘʜt ni wolloʜ ϱniʜtɘmoƨ
a scar of hunger, deep and all consuming.                                                                                  .ϱnimυƨnoɔ llɒ bnɒ qɘɘb ,ɿɘϱnυʜ ʇo ɿɒɔƨ ɒ

A soft voice broke through the silence and tripped Pete from his trance.

“Hello?”

Pete turned to see a man standing at the other end of the corridor, a lantern in hand casting a warm glow on his sharp features.

“Hello–I’m sorry I’ve been out in the rain so long,  
I needed shelter and your home was the first place  
I stumbled across. I’ll be taking my leave now-”   

“No. Stay.”

The stranger smiled at him kindly and walked closer to Pete.

                                                                                                                                                                     “I insist.”

“Are you sure? I have no desire to burden you.”

                                                                                “You shan’t. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe. Come, let me  
                                                                         run you a bath. Poor thing, you must be freezing.”

Pete watched as the man moved to the doors, hauling them shut before he gripped Pete’s waist and began leading him through the hall. He was swift as they walked, Pete almost stumbling over his own feet as they whirled through doorways and down hallways, the sheer depth of the twisting rooms making Pete feel dizzy. The two came to a halt in a large room, in the middle of which sat a large white tub standing proud on its silver talons. An enormous mirror spanned the entire length of the wall adjacent, and the room was lit by hundreds of candles scattered around. The man released his grip on Pete’s side and moved to twist two silver knobs, causing a rush of water to pour out the faucet and begin filling up the tub.

“I’m Pete. Thank you for your kindness.”

                                                                 “You’re most welcome, Pete.”

(The man spoke his name like a prayer.)

                                                                 “I’m Vegas.”

The two stood in near silence—only the sound of the rain still coming down fiercely outside—as the water slowly filled up the bath, steam rising up into the room. Vegas slinked behind Pete and pressed his chest against Pete’s spine, curving his head to rest in the crook of Pete’s neck. Pete shivered as Vegas brought his hands around his chest and slowly began removing his shirt. His hot breath fell against Pete’s neck–gentle puffs that cast a warmth along his throat. Vegas’ fingers worked methodically along the fabric–taking his time he peeled off the shirt from Pete’s skin and tossed it to the floor with a slop. Suddenly the man released him and moved back to the bath, picking up a small cloth bag and scooping out a handful of salt before pouring it into the hot water below. Pete hadn’t even realised he was holding his breath, but as soon as the man moved his attention from Pete for just a moment, Pete’s lungs returned to their normal rhythm. When the water reached the lip of the bath and threatened to spill over, Vegas turned the knobs once again and the flow came to a stop. The man smiled at him—warmth in the way that the belly of the beast is warm, all encompassing and devouring—before walking over and retrieving a robe of black silk and a black towel from a drawer. He draped them over the top.

                                                              “I implore you, bathe and change. Are you hungry?”

“Quite.”

                                                              “Wonderful. I’ll prepare us a supper while you wash up. Do take your time.”

Vegas turned to leave but paused, walked back, produced a little silver bell from his pocket and placed it right next to the robe.

                                                             “Ring this when you finish, I will come to collect you. This house is a maze to those   
                                                              stranger to her.”

And with that, the man closed the door with a sharp thud, leaving Pete alone once more. He shed his soaked jeans and boxers, dumping them with his shirt as he carefully stepped into the tub. The bath was too full, and as he sat down water spilled over from the delicate surface and down the slopes of porcelain. Nevertheless, he let himself sink into the hot embrace of the water. He submerged his body and let his neck fall backwards, basking in the deep heat that began to thaw him. The dull ache that persisted deep in the fibres of his muscles from years of fleeing loosened apart and relaxation soaked through his body. The subtle smell of lavender rose from the salts, familiar and kind. It reminded Pete of stories of youth and innocence, falling fast asleep in your mother’s arms. Some said Pete never lost his naivety, but Pete felt he was never born with it. Or, born maybe, but stripped much too quick by the bitterness of the cold. No, no longer. Pete was safe for now in the home of a kind stranger. The water did his nerves much good and eased his mood, soon beginning to cool from an intimate heat to a reserved warmth. He cupped his hands and began scooping water onto his hair, working his fingers through his bangs and cleaning the grime that clung to them. The unconventional design of the bathroom forced Pete to stare directly into his reflection once more. 

His eyes looked perhaps                                                                                                                                    ƨqɒʜɿɘq bɘʞool ƨɘγɘ ƨiH
kinder now,                                                                                                                                                                      ,won rebnik
perhaps more                                                                                                                                                                  ɘɿom ƨqɒʜɿɘq
youthful,                                                                                                                                                                               ,lυʇʜtυoγ
but that fervent hunger still teased at the corner                                                            renroc eht ta besaet llits regnuh tnevref taht tud
of his lips, begging to be pulled loose, to unravel.                                                            .lɘvɒɿnυ ot ,ɘƨool bɘllυq ɘd ot ϱniϱϱɘd ,ƨqil ƨiʜ ʇo

It was a thin strand of red to the corner of his mouth that ached to be fed, with what he was not sure. Pete had tried. He’d tried to appease it with quill and book, fist and shins, sacred wholesome love. But it festered. Growing inside of him like a fungus always creeping at the back of his brain. A bug in his brain told him it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to starvation. The water was growing cooler now. Yes, that strand was growing deeper into Pete, coursing its poison into his veins and pumping it around his body and he had no thoughts on how to cure it. Perhaps some would argue that Pete needed salvation–spiritually. Some God he could rely on to satisfy his soul and guide his life, but Pete had never felt drawn to the church, his hunger still grew. The water was growing cooler still. Pete decided he’d bathed long enough and tugged on the chain to let the water funnel away, before he stepped up and made his way to retrieve the towel. He wrapped it around his shoulders, it was soft against his body as he dried his skin, thinking once more of the kind man who’d lent him his pity this night. After drying himself off, he slipped on the black silk robe Vegas had laid out for him, picked up the silver bell and shook it.

ring

                                    ring

                                          ring

       ring

                                                                                                                                                                                       ring

           ring 

He waited for the man to return. Soon, the door swung open and Vegas reappeared, this time having changed into a blood-red silk shirt, only 3 buttons done up so that his chest was on almost full display. The sight made Pete a little faint–or maybe it was just the hot bath. It was likely just the hot bath, he told himself.

                                                             “Feel fresher?”

“Mhm.”

                                                             “Good. Come.”

Once again the man led Pete, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling him down a different path, equally as winding as the first. This time however, Pete took in more of his surroundings. The house had an elegant tenebrosity, using dark woods and sultry reds, and there were countless doors all the same size and each bearing a silver doorknob.

                                                                                Vegas

                                                                                         led

                                                                                                him along another long corridor, then reaching the end turned as

                                                                                                                                                     they

                                                                                                                                  slipped

                                                                                                                  down

                                                                                                                            a

                                                                                                                                         flight

                                                                                                                                                      of

                                                                                                                                        stairs

                                                                                                                          that

                                                                                                                   weaved

                                                                                                                           deep

                                                                                                                                       into

                                                                                                                                                    the

                                                                                                                                        earth

                                                                                                                             in

                                                                                                                   a

                                                                                                     helix.

They arrived in a large dining room–on the table a veritable feast, plates piled high with rice and salads, bowls bearing stews. In the centre lay a whole roast beast, its skin crisp and its face frozen in perpetual sleep, an apple stuffed in its mouth. Vegas pulled out a chair and motioned for Pete to sit down. Once he did, Vegas sat next to him, angling his chair a little towards him. Pete looked down at the table and saw in front of him an intricately designed silver dish the size of his head, as well as a knife and fork that looked more fitting in an operating theatre than a kitchen, but their violence was offset by the engravings on the handles, smooth and detailed, which felt pleasant to the touch. Vegas immediately began serving Pete, spooning various dishes onto his plate, insisting he eat his fill. Pete honestly didn’t mind it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a proper meal. He wielded his knife and was about to begin carving at the brute before he felt a hand rest against his, stopping him.

                                                             “No, no, Pete. The meat is far too tender. She’ll come apart too easily if you use  
                                                              something as harsh as your knife. Be patient and delicate, use your fingers.”

Vegas sunk his claws into the body of the animal, pulling out a steaming handful of flesh. With his other hand, he picked up a small piece and brought it to Pete’s lips. Pete accepted the meat into his mouth. It burst with flavour on his tongue, salty and sweet and juicy, with ribbons of fat throughout that melted and contrasted the crack of the skin. It was the best thing Pete had ever tasted. He closed his eyes and savoured, chewing while Vegas softly chuckled.

                                                             “You are an interesting one, Pete.”

Pete tilted his head, his mouth still full of food. As soon as he swallowed, Vegas’ fingertips were at his red lips once more bearing another morsel which Pete gladly took. After Vegas had fed him the remaining meat from his hand, he picked up a bottle of wine and popped the cork out, pouring two glasses of the crimson liquid. Vegas stood up and used one hand to grip Pete’s chin, tilting his head up so their gazes locked. His fingertips pressed softly into Pete’s jawline, his nails digging a little into the soft skin. Vegas’ other hand held a goblet of wine which he pressed to Pete’s lips, tilting both his head and the glass to pour a steady stream of wine down Pete’s throat. Pete gulped down the liquid as best he could as Vegas showed no intention of stopping until the glass was drained, however a little escaped from his mouth and dripped in a sticky pale red down his chin and throat. Once the cup was emptied, Vegas released his grip on Pete’s jaw and drifted his eyes to the alcohol clinging to his face. He smirked and brought his mouth to the bottom of Pete’s throat, licking a hot stripe upwards to clear the wine away from Pete’s skin. Pete gripped onto the arms of the chair, his eyes widening. Vegas sat back down casually.

                                                             “Please, dig in.”

A touch shell shocked, Pete picked up his fork and gathered food onto its prongs, lifting it to his mouth and letting the flavours pass over his taste buds. The undeniable beauty of the swirling flavours cleared Pete’s worries once more. The various side dishes were just as delectable as the meat, with Pete immediately reaching for another forkful–and another–and another again. Yai would scoff to see his manners completely vanish as he took gluttonous mouthfuls, stuffing food into his face as he finished his plate. Vegas picked out a bone from the hog and offered it to him. 

                                                            “I believe to make the most of its body is to honour the animal. We shouldn’t waste  
                                                              things now, should we Pete?”

Pete looked at the bone. Some flesh clung to it, swathing the white in tender meat. He took it and began gnawing away, masticating it with his canines savagely. After he’d ripped all the meat he could off the bone, he dropped it onto his plate. Vegas gestured to the wine bottle.

                                                             “A little more to wash it all down?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

Pete offered his glass, but Vegas simply placed the bottle directly against Pete’s lips and tilted it upwards, forcing the alcohol down his throat again. Pete gulped down the rest of the wine, making his head feel faint. He winced when Vegas removed the bottle from his lips with a pop, now feeling a little sick from the sudden influx of liquid into his stomach. Vegas had shown him a great kindness this evening, but Pete began to worry he would soon be overstaying his welcome.

“Thank you for your generosity. I really must be taking my leave now-“

                                                             “Nonsense. The tempest still rages on outside, dear. Where do you suppose you’ll  
                                                              go? Find shelter in some dreary cave? Make yourself meal to a grizzly or some  
                                                              other beast? No, you’re much better off staying here. With me. I don’t often  
                                                              have guests, and certainly none as interesting as you, Pete. I have plenty of rooms   
                                                              I could spare you, everything you desire will be yours. Stay.”

                                                            “Please.”

The alternative didn’t seem too great. Either he spent the night here, at a kind—although admittedly odd and seemingly lonely—stranger’s house, or he ventured back into the storm. 

“Okay, Vegas. I’ll stay the night. Thank you again for your kindness.”

Vegas smiled.

                                                             “Come, I’ll lead you to your room.”

He took Pete’s hand and led him out the door of the dining room, back down a long hallway and through a series of  
doors–weaving

                                                                                                        left,

                                                                                                                 right,

                                                                                                        left,

                                                                                                                 right,

until they entered a large bedroom. There was a queen-size bed with a canopy, deep red velvet curtains dripping from the ornate wood, the same colour as the wine seated deep in Pete’s gut. The room was decorated with the other expected furniture for a bedroom, albeit each piece beautifully ornate: a carved dresser, a long silver mirror, a modest desk and seat. It looked comfortable, and certainly far more luxurious than anywhere Pete had ever had the pleasure of staying.

                                                             “Is this to your liking, dear?”

Dear.

“Yes–really, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

                                                             “I’m glad. Rest well. Oh and–call out for me in the morning when you awaken.  
                                                              We couldn’t have you getting lost now, could we?”

“No. Thank you.”

                                                             “One last thing.”

                                                             “Don’t snoop around the house.”

And with that, Vegas left. Pete made his way over to the drawer and pulled it open in search of something more suitable to wear to bed. He found a pair of black silk pyjama shorts. Pulling them on, they fit like a glove, snug around his hips. He made his way over to the bed and climbed underneath the soft duvet, pulling it over his shoulders as he closed his eyes. The mattress was so soft his body practically melded into it, catching his weight like it was made precisely for his shape. After so long of running through the bitter cold, his limbs worn and exhausted, he finally let sleep take him, comfortable and warm.

                                                                                 knock

                                                                                                                         knock

Pete awoke to a sinking feeling in his chest. He could hear the sound of rain gently pattering on the window. The room was still dark.

                                                                                      knock

                                                                                                                          knock

                                                                          knock

There was something banging outside–the noise drilled into his head, harsh and relentless. He shut his eyes tight and did his best to tune it out.

                                                                                            knock                             knock

                                                                                                                         knock

                                                               knock

                                                                                              knock knock

                                                                                                  knock

                                                                                                                 knock

                                                                                    knock

Pete rose up out of bed and winced. The pounding wasn’t stopping and Pete certainly couldn’t sleep with its presence. He took a wavering breath and climbed out of the bed, placing his feet on the cold wooden flooring and stretching out his body. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been asleep for, but he felt oddly well rested. His stomach growled. Vegas had demanded him not to snoop, but surely going for a quick walk was fine–it’d help tire him out so he could tune out the noise and fall back asleep. He took soft steps to the door, arms out to feel his way through the darkness. His hand landed on the cool doorknob. He twisted it and opened the door with a moaning creek. The corridor was pitch black too, although after a few minutes Pete’s eyes adjusted and he could make out monochrome shapes in the darkness. He walked gently around the hall for a few minutes, hoping to clear his head and exhaust his body.

                                                                                                                     knock

                                                                                                                   knock       knock 

                                                                                                             knock       knock    knock knock

                                                                                                                                                       knock

                                                                                                                                knock

                                                                                                                                                knock

                                                                                                                                knock                                                    knock

                                                                                                                                               knock

The noise was louder now. It came from a door up ahead to Pete’s left. He crept closer.knock

                                                                                                                                                       knock             knock

                                                                                                                         k                                    n             knock  knock         knock

                                                                                                                                                                                       knock knock 

                                                                                                                                                             knock  knocknocknocknocknockn

                                                                                                                                                                      knocknocknocknocknockncok

KNOCKNOCNOCKNOCKNOCK  
NOCKNOCKONCKONCKNNO  
KNKOCKOKNCOKNCOK  
Pete’s curiosity gained the better of him– he gripped the doorknob and swung the door wide open as a  
red glow flooded his face his head grew heavier and his eyes heavy too his body weak  
as he  
                     d    
                      r    
                      o    
                      p    
                     p    
                     e    
                      d    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                   t    
                                                                                                                                                                                                                   o   

                                                                                                                                                                                                        the floor.

Chapter Text

Pete groggily opened his eyes. Sweat clung to his skin. He tried to move but found  
resistance–rope digging into his skin, biting into his flesh. He could barely feel his body, each  
limb, each joint bound and strung to force him into a position still as a statue. He could feel  
his knee had been situated pointing up while his left faced down, he was facing up too and  
craned his neck to inspect his body as much as he could. His hips, waist, spine, feet and
thighs were all cradled in red hemp rope.  
It weaved  
O
v    n
   e           t  
   deep red over his skin, r                o layered and tressed,      
   i           i  
t    t
self
t
i     a
g          b
       what would they say h                o if they saw him?            
t           o
a    a
nd
e
r      a
  o            g  
 strung up, t                   e suspended.
i                r
c           a
o        l
v    o
e  n
r g
his
flesh.
He couldn’t move an inch, ropes taut in the web that caught him.

“This suits you.”

 Pete felt a finger slide up his exposed thigh and run along his back. He swallowed.

“Let me go.”

“Why would I do that, Pete? You look so lovely in red.  
I’d thought about blindfolding you. But I decided it’d  
be a shame if you couldn’t see how wonderful you look.”

Pete wriggled in the grip of the rope attempting to break free–although his attempts were futile.

“You’re not getting out that easy.”

“What do you want from me? I’m not  
anybody of importance if you mistook                                                                                                      “This isn’t about what I want.”
me for that, I don’t have any money
or possessions of any worth to you, 
my only family alive is my yai who                                                                                                                                             “Pete.”
isn’t of importance to you either, and
I don’t have friends so if you thought
you were going to kidnap me and demand
some fat sum of money to line your
pockets with if that’s your little scheme                                                                                                                                      “Pete.”
then you’ve been severely mistaken-”

Pete paused to catch his breath. He’d been ranting breathlessly at the man after all. Vegas brought his face closer to Pete’s and pressed his lips up to Pete’s ear. He spoke softly, the heat of his breath tickling Pete’s skin.

“This has nothing to do with what I want. Nothing.  
And everything to do with what you need.”

“And how the fuck are you supposed to  
know what I need?”

“It’s written on your face, dear.”

Vegas brought out a hand and caressed the side of Pete’s chin, gazing at him–his eyes sharp like a predator stalking its prey, yet also filled with a deep love.

“I can see what you’re hiding in the lines of your cheeks,”

His fingers drifted further along Pete’s face, brushing his lips.

“Beneath the surface of your skin. Deep inside your flesh,”

He titled Pete’s chin up.

“You’re hungry, Pete. Aren’t you?”

Pete narrowed his eyes.

“Has nobody fed you?”

”I ate a few hours ago.”

“Sure, the supper I made you. But what
about before that?”

“I eat fine.”

“Scraps you find lying around aren’t the same  
as a meal somebody’s cooked for you. Surely  
a street dog like yourself knows that?”

Pete bared his teeth and glared.

“Don’t bite yet. I don’t want to have to muzzle you.
I don’t think anybody’s been feeding you, have they?
You poor thing. I could see it from the moment you
walked in here. Shivering. Desperate. Hungry. I can
see what hides at the corner of your mouth, pet.”

Vegas brought a fingernail to the side of Pete’s mouth and pressed down hard, dragging his claw to the side and leaving a streak of pink across his face, the skin tingling.

“But you can rest now. I’m here. I see you. And I know  
what you deserve, dear. I’m going to let you graze,  
pick strands of muscle and fat out from the ribs of the  
finest game and push them in between your soft and  
supple lips. Watch as a little of its blood trickles down  
your chin, sweet and sticky. The sensation of hunger  
will become entirely foreign to you as I ensure you are  
always stuffed full with everything you are worthy of.  
There is no need for any words to even slip out of your  
lips, only the mere thought—or slightest suggestion of  
a thought—and what you desire shall be yours to taste,  
consume, and digest. Tell me, Pete.”

“Are you hungry?”

Pete’s stomach growled. His mouth began to salivate. He stared into Vegas’ eyes and he couldn’t lie to himself–he felt ravenous. That hunger was only growing stronger with Vegas’ presence–with Vegas’ acknowledgement not only that it existed, but that it needed something. All throughout Pete’s life, he’d believed if he could just ignore that feeling it would go away. He’d been wrong of course, it had only grown stronger, but he was right in that admitting it lived in his mind only made it sink its tendrils deeper into him, and now that Vegas had unlocked the door to the depths of his brain, Pete felt powerless to try and push it shut again. It felt too good for it to be open.

“Shh dear, I know. I know.”

Vegas slid his pinky finger against Pete’s lips and pushed it inside up to the first joint. It was cool inside his mouth and had a slight salty twang. Pete let his teeth rest gently against it and swallowed roughly as he stared at the finger, his tongue frozen and his mind blank.

“Bite.”

With the command, Pete forced his jaw to snap shut. He was uncertain where the strength came from, but he sliced the tip off with his incisors in one messy bite. Vegas showed no sign of pain–in fact a little smile crept across his face as he removed his finger and stared at Pete lovingly. Pete found a grin forming on his own face, one manic and desperate, his teeth wide as he felt the weight of the fingertip on his tongue. Dark blood splattered his front teeth, falling in between the cracks between each tooth and settling. It was salty and rich in iron, a deep flavour similar to that of the hog Pete had eaten earlier, but sweeter.

“Chew.”

Pete let the fingertip fall backwards against his molars, a squirt of blood releasing onto his tongue and coating the back of his throat as he bit down. The texture was unlike anything Pete had experienced before, it was almost like raw beef, melting in his mouth like a fine cut of sashimi. Although there was a foreignness to it, the taste was familiar. Kind along his tongue. It was similar to pork, except with a deeper sweetness and a touch of bitterness which ignited his taste buds, the meat deep and rich and exploding with umami. He pushed the fingernail off and to the right side of his mouth, keeping it against his cheek as he continued his focus on the finger. The meat was a little stringy but surprisingly tender, as he masticated the remaining flesh away from the bone he let his tongue run across the ridges of the phalange, small and delicate. With one swipe of his tongue he pushed the bone to the side of his mouth with the fingernail, letting the chewed flesh sit in his cheek.

“Swallow.”

Pete swallowed down the meat, feeling it slide down his throat tinged still with the thick blood. It left his mouth tasting metallic.

“The bone too.”

He held Vegas’ gaze but gulped down the fingernail and bone with substantial effort, coughing a little as the sensation lingered in his throat.

“Perfect, pet. You’re going to be just perfect.”

Pete grinned, closing his eyes and relishing in the praise, but when he opened his eyes he was back in the corridor on his knees. Vegas’ words echoed in his head.

What was that? 

Perhaps a dream? 

He looked at his hands–pink streaks lined his wrists where the ropes had once been. No, it couldn’t have been real. Those marks must have been from earlier, from a stinging nettle bush or bramble he’d passed by. Pete stood up wearily and stumbled backwards, looking around the dark corridor like he expected Vegas to pop out at any moment. He just needed to get back to his bedroom and fall asleep. He could leave first thing when the sun rose tomorrow. He turned around and began running back to his room–or at least where he thought his room was. The house was a mess of t       s
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and turns.⠀⠀⠀ w⠀ t
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀is

He reached the door—he was pretty sure this was his room—then put his hand on the cool ornate door knob and twisted, peeling the door open. It was pitch black. Not just darkness–no, the corridor was dark too. This was a complete absence of light, and just looking at it Pete could feel something in his soul being sucked dry out of him. It called to him.

“Come inside.”

Chapter Text

“Come inside.”

It spoke to him warmly, giving Pete brightness and comfort. He stepped into the room, his foot sinking into a few inches of black water that consumed his foot with a gentle splash. One foot into the room, his leg felt colder now. He brought his other foot into the water and began walking forward carefully, his arms stretched out in front of him in case he stumbled into anything.

“Hello?”

                                                                     ᴴᵉˡˡᵒˀ

ₕₑₗₗₒ﹖

Pete kept walking, wading through the water in complete darkness. He turned to look behind him–he could no longer see the door now, only pure black that encompassed everything. Was he going the right way? Was there even a right way to go? What was he walking towards?

“Getting warmer.”

Pete froze. Unlike his own voice, the voice he heard didn’t reverberate in the air. There was no brittle chill to it like there was with his own, no, it was soft and hot and felt more like it was being spoken directly into Pete’s brain rather than coming from an actual source. He had to keep going, had to push to walk closer to it and find it–something told him it would bring him relief, bring him light. The water was up to his ankles now. Had it always been this high? He faced the resistance of the liquid with every stride he took, felt the cool water laughing along his skin. Pete was now able to make out something in the darkness–it appeared like there was a flame flickering far, far away in the distance, a dancing light which rippled along the surface of the water.

“Warmer.”

The light called out to him with such intensity that Pete didn’t even care that the cool water was even deeper now, up to his shins in fact. When he took steps, no longer did his feet come back into the air before submerging again, but simply pushed through the water. But it was going to be worth it. That candle was coming closer into view, still far on the horizon but getting larger with each inch closer he stepped. The closer he came, the more that warmth spread in his chest. It was a strong contrast to the cool, cruel darkness of the rest of the room, and it promised something to Pete. It promised love and pleasure, heat, kisses of smoke, licks of flame.

“Even warmer.”

The water was deeper and deeper with every step he took, it rose up his thighs and caressed his hips, clung to his stomach. It was getting so much harder to push through now, and his legs were growing fatigued. A part of him wanted to fall down right there, let his lungs fill up with water and his body bloat, but he couldn’t. The light was closer than it had ever been before. Pete swore now he could make out the wax of the candle, the flickering of the flame and a soft plume of smoke rising above it. It reflected its orange glow onto the water in stripes, beautiful and serene, like steps of a ladder he wished he could grip onto and climb.

“Hotter.”

It was up to his chest now, and Pete had to use his arms to propel him through the water. The sea was growing warmer, too–now matching his body temperature as he swam. And the flame. It was tauntingly close he could taste it, visions swilled through his head: flame against his tongue burning hot pink and blistering, licking at his chest tickling scorch marks onto his breast, cigarette butts burnt into his collarbones. Its heat and light threatened to consume him, and god how Pete wanted it to. He was pushing through, swimming through the black water all to reach that devouring light.

“Hot.”

The water was against his chin, it was warm and getting hotter by the minute. He tip-toed as to give himself a little more room. That burning fire was brighter now, he could see the light–the deep crimson that echoed softly around a ring of lighter red, which in turn blended into an auburn. In the centre the colour turned a sunny yellow before becoming white hot, milky like a pearl. The water was an uncomfortable temperature now, so hot that it stung slightly against Pete’s exposed skin. He titled his head up to try and breathe.

“Burning hot.”

It was getting far too deep now, Pete took one final gasp before sinking into the hot water. It felt practically boiling at this point, burning Pete’s skin in a way that should’ve felt uncomfortable but only made Pete feel achingly good. It was like the heat was washing away the grime from his mind, helping him think clearer and making him new again, rejuvenated. He kept swimming towards the light, not even bothering to come up for breaths. It felt as if the heat of the water was air–natural for him to be in, perfect and how it was always meant to be. An orange glow flooded his vision as he swam closer to the light, it was so bright and hot that Pete felt dwarfed by its presence–no. Pete didn’t even feel his own presence anymore, there was only the light he breathed into and swam into, closer and closer until he reached it. His hand hit something solid. He reached up and gripped with both arms, pulling himself up with all his strength and collapsing onto the ground in the light. He coughed up a little salty water onto the floor as he tried to regain his breath.

“Good job, pet.”

Vegas lifted up Pete’s chin to look at him. His hand was hot, even hotter than the water, and Pete couldn’t help pushing into the skin a little for comfort, like a lazy hound lounging in the sun.

“You’re a stalwart one, aren’t you? Completely fixed
on coming to me, obeying what I tell you no matter
the struggle.”

He scratched underneath his chin. It felt good.

“You’ve done so well. I think you deserve a reward.”

Pete nodded as Vegas lifted up the candle in his hand, his eyes following it, completely transfixed on the dancing flame. Vegas smiled, watching Pete become mesmerised by the light, before he brought it over Pete’s head so it hovered above his back. As the candle lifted up and further away from him, Pete felt his body temperature drop a little. It was as if the sensitivity of his body had been dialled up to 100. Vegas tilted the candle slightly and let a little hot wax drip slowly down its side, one singular drop landing onto Pete’s spine in a sizzling bead. He inhaled sharply, scrunching up his face from the pain. Another drop fell onto Pete’s skin, eliciting another wince. It burnt his flesh but in such a manner that it felt good, intimate.

“Such a good pet for me.”

Vegas tilted the candle further, letting wax steadily stream onto Pete’s back, landing in droplets that made Pete whine, arching his back into the feeling as the wax poured down the slopes of his body, slowly cooling into an opaque sheen. The wax bound to his flesh like a second skin, tightening as it solidified, only for more hot wax to be poured on top. Now a constant pour of wax fell along his body, nestling in the ridges of his spine and flowing over his shoulders. It stung and prickled. Pete suddenly felt a weight in the middle of his back as Vegas pressed the candle into the wax to keep it upright.

“Don’t let it tip over.”

Vegas produced another candle and knelt down to Pete’s level. As the two made burning eye contact, Pete felt the slow trickle of wax reach his skin, a constant reminder of the candle’s presence on his back. Pete felt objectified, the liquid hardening on his flesh turning him into a statue, a frilled up pretty toy for Vegas’ amusement.

“Keep looking at me, and keep your head still.”

Pete obeyed, keeping his eyes on Vegas as he placed the burning candle onto the top of his head, positioning it carefully so as to not let it fall. However, this didn’t prevent Pete from needing to keep his entire focus on not letting either of the candles fall, thereby forcing the exposed flames against his skin. Truthfully Pete didn’t even care about getting burnt–only that letting the candles fall would be disobeying Vegas. He needed to please Vegas. Vegas gently held the sides of his face, staring at him with pure pleasure–a look even more heated than the drips of wax.

“Pretty boy. See, this is what you were made for. Made
to be an object for me to take in, a lovely little
decoration I can gaze at and admire. Use your body
as ornamentation. Drape you in jewels and blood,
lock you away so that only I get to see your beauty.”

Pete’s neck was beginning to ache and stiffen as he listened to Vegas’ liturgical speech. He could feel the hot wax dripping over his scalp, coating his hair follicles as it nestled its way in thin ribbons down the back of his neck, over his forehead. ’Keep looking at me’. And Pete did, even as the wax dripped down–from his hairline to his eyebrows and finally over the creases of his eyelids, finding its home in the thick plume of his eyelashes. He fluttered his eyes shut a little, blinking as he adjusted himself to the sensation of the beads around his eyes. All Pete could do was breathe–breathe through the pain and desperately try to keep still for Vegas. This was his purpose, Pete was a pretty toy for Vegas to dress up and play with how he saw fit, it was a fact of life engrained into his brain–a fact that felt like a warm embrace, the comfort of being owned. Vegas flicked his thumb across Pete’s lip, staring at it, famished, before he brought his face to Pete’s, pressing a deep kiss into him as he brought his tongue into Pete’s mouth. His body was unnaturally hot, and when he kissed Pete his tongue stung with the heat. Vegas was careful to be gentle with his overall movements so as to not spill the candles, but he let his tongue and teeth be rough in their treatment of Pete, nipping at his bottom lip until it too felt hot. Pete desperately wanted to lean into his touch, to throw his head backwards and give Vegas a bigger expanse of skin to work his teeth on, but he gulped down those thoughts and remained in position as Vegas teased him with ravenous kisses. When Vegas pulled away, a small whine slipped out from Pete’s mouth. He chuckled.

“We’re just getting started, dear.”

In one swift movement Vegas swiped both candles off Pete’s skin, and before Pete could realise what was happening he was lying on his back with Vegas on top of him, pinning him down, a candle in each hand. He smirked and brought one of the candles to hover directly over Pete’s face. 

“Close your eyes and keep your mouth shut.”

Just as Pete let his eyelids flutter closed, he felt a hot drop of wax spill directly in between his brows–then another and another, until the wax ran down over his eyes. Vegas kept dripping wax until a thin layer built up over Pete’s eyes, sealing them shut. He then turned his attention to Pete’s mouth–first yanking Pete’s jaw open before collecting some saliva and spitting directly into his mouth. He then pushed Pete’s jaw closed and a moment later Pete felt the kiss of hot wax against his plump lips, sinking into their crevices. Vegas made sure to build up the coat of wax all along his mouth and chin, too, locking his face in place. His expression must’ve looked peaceful, serene almost–and Pete felt it too. Vegas was helping him to keep still, helping him be used as the decoration he was. He swallowed, wondering how much of Vegas’ spit still sat in his mouth, mingled with his own.

“So pretty.”

Vegas ran his finger lightly over his covered lips. Pete heard Vegas spit again before there was a warm hand wrapped around the base of his already hard cock, stroking him roughly. He bucked his hips and threw his head back a little, his mouth instinctively trying to open up but secured with the layer of wax.

“Eager little slut. Don’t worry, I’ll make it better.”

The pace of his hand quickened as he tightened his grip on Pete’s cock. Just as Pete was beginning to get used to it, a surge of pain sprang through his nerves as hot wax dripped onto his nipple–then onto the other one. The pain set his nerves on fire, somehow slipping round the horseshoe to return to pleasure. As Pete felt the wax harden, he could feel Vegas’ mouth at his nipple as he simultaneously swiped his thumb over Pete’s tip, dragging his teeth along the soft skin of his chest before biting to tear away the wax. Pete made a muffled wince. As Vegas increased the pace even further, he ripped off the wax covering Pete’s mouth, leaving the skin on his lips to tingle and sting as he finally let out a soft moan.

“Vegas-”

Pete cried out as he came, spluttering come over his chest and Vegas’ hand as the pressure around his cock released. He kept in this position for a few more seconds, his hips up a little and his neck craned back as he let the waves of pleasure crash over him. He heard nought from Vegas. He opened his eyes, expecting any resistance from the wax but instead found his face untouched and his body lying in that same familiar corridor. The whiplash was strange, but as Pete came to his senses, he questioned why he’d just let Vegas use him like that. This was the monster who was keeping him captive, and he was sure of one thing. Pete had to escape. It couldn’t wait until the morning–something was deeply wrong with this house. Had Pete even entered any of the doors? He wasn’t sure, each time he thought he stepped through he was greeted by a dimension devoid of any sense, where the rules of the world he knew seemingly didn’t apply. His brain melted into goo, unable to think or feel anything other than pleasure, even when that man–that creature was treating his body so corruptly. Then, when Pete woke up in the corridor he finally gained back his reasoning and the weight of what happened pushed down on his chest. He felt sick to his stomach, the meat deep in his belly now churning as it threatened to escape to the floor with a wave of bile. He took shallow breaths as he shakily stood up and began running as fast as he could down the dark corridor.

His feet felt completely disconnected from his body as they hit the flooring in a rapid rhythm, his breaths quick as he sprinted out of the corridor, a spiral staircase coming into his view. He gripped onto the deep wooden bannister and used it to fling himself up the stairs, taking hurried step after step for what seemed like endless flights. Finally, he reached the top and fled through the gate into another corridor. A corridor filled with doors. Shit–was this even a different room? Did Pete somehow loop back on himself–no he couldn’t have. He furrowed his brows and continued running, if he could just work his way through the house he’d find the exit eventually. His head felt funny with the ways in which the room bent around him, countless doors which whispered vices into his ear like poison.
He couldn’t
let them be
a source of
distraction,
he ignored
the calls of
        lust                                                                  and                                                     hedonism,          
of
dark                                                                 and                                                             light,  
equally
enchanting
in their
promises to
him.
But their calls only grew stronger, speaking softly to him: ‘didn’t it feel so good just to let go?’ ‘Don’t you wonder what lurks behind each door just waiting for you to enter? Waiting to sink their talons of fetish deep into your flesh, brought like a snow-white lamb to the slaughterhouse’. He gripped his eyes shut and continued forward, what waited for him behind the doors could only hurt him, he thought. He needed to leave. Now. He walked further before he reached a large door which he was almost certain he recognised as the entrance to this hell–and more importantly the exit. He gripped the doorknob and shoved his body weight against it, falling down onto the grass outside.

Chapter Text

Pete squinted as the bright sunlight hit him. He’d been in darkness for so many hours now that the light made his eyes sting and instinctively close. After a moment of adjusting, Pete looked up around him. Never before had he been so grateful to see the miles of trees, the canopy above him that weaved like lace to allow bands of light down to the forest floor. He grinned hysterically before kissing the leaf-covered soil beneath him and letting out an ecstatic laugh. After the oddest night, Pete was finally free from the nightmarish castle.

,,ₚₑₜₑ﹖,,

A voice called out from behind him–quiet and concerned. Pete’s eyes widened as his legs sprung into action, bolting off the ground and sprinting as fast as he could through the forest. He had no idea which direction he was going or where he was even trying to go–all he knew is he had to get away from the thing that kept him prisoner there last night.

,,ₐᵣₑ ᵧₒᵤ ₒₖₐᵧ, ₚₑₜₑ﹖,,

The voice sounded like it was closer now, no longer muffled by the deep halls of the castle. Pete spared no time looking back and continued through the trees, as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran straight forward then made a sharp turn left, hoping he could lose Vegas if he was following him, although even if he wasn’t Pete didn’t want to take the risk in checking. He swerved around trunks and over roots, the adrenaline pushing him to keep running–whether to save his life or to save his mind he wasn’t quite sure. After some time Pete came to a stop and slumped down against a tree. He was out of breath, panting hard as he tried to formulate a plan. Pete was no stranger to running, he’d been running all his life from anything that threatened his sanity or his safety and this was no different. A thousand things floated through his head–he needed a source of potable water, food, shelter for the night, but one priority emerged from the hoard of thoughts: get away from Vegas. Now that his breath had returned to a more normal pace Pete slinked up, careful to avoid making too much noise, and continued jogging in the same direction. It wasn’t a brutal sprint like he’d done at first, but Pete needed to conserve energy and any distance was better than none.

“ᴵˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳˀ”

How the fuck was Vegas following him? He’d been running as quickly and quietly as he could but apparently it wasn’t enough. As his pace increased to a sprint once more, he wondered if he should try to reason with the man, or if fleeing was his best option. Somewhat reassuringly, Vegas didn’t seem to be angry. No, his voice was concerned and kind, like a child calling out for its lost pet. There was a strange promise carried in his tone, one that told Pete he’d find him and take care of him–thinking on it, Pete wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a threat. Warm tears began to well in his eyes as he ran, one dropping down his cheek and now his face was damp and salty. Pete’s foot caught on a bulging tree root and he fell face first onto the ground, the soft skin of his arm catching on some tree bark as red began to ripple up to the surface of the scratch. It stung, and Pete winced as he gave a quick glance to it, before the sound of footsteps behind forced him back to his feet, pushing off with one ankle. But as he landed onto the other, a surge of pain shot through his foot and he folded to the ground. Fuck. He pulled himself up once more and hobbled forward, doing his best not to bear any weight on his bad ankle. Iron permeated each breath he took. He could hear footsteps approaching him getting closer and closer. He tried to hop forward but simply fell down again. Eager not to give in he dragged himself forwards with his arms, scuffing a small cloud of dirt up as he pushed with his good leg to try and gain more distance.

“Oh, Pete. What are you running for?”

Pete gave no thought into answering and continued clawing forwards away from the man, who took tauntingly slow steps behind him, following casually as Pete desperately tried to get away. He felt a heeled shoe press down on his back, pushing as he let out a whine from the sudden pressure. He tried to pull himself forwards but was locked in place. Pete supposed this was it. After years of running his time had finally come to an end, the clock had run out and now Pete was going to die. Here, killed by a man he’d willingly taken aid from. He’d gotten so close to escape but it hadn’t been enough. Pete closed his eyes and prepared himself for death.

“You really think I’d go through such effort just
to kill you?”

Pete shook. He felt wrath boiling inside his gut as the man prolonged his torture.

“Kill me. Eat me. Whatever a fucked up
monster like yourself does to people.”

Vegas chuckled and knelt down to Pete’s level, keeping his foot securely on his spine as he used a hand to grab a fistful of Pete’s hair and yanked his head up.

“But you’re not people. Don’t get me wrong,
I’m sure your flesh would be the most tender,
supple thing I’d ever tasted. In fact, when you
walked in here so eagerly coming to me it was
as if a little lamb had wandered into my home,
plump and ripe for me to sink my teeth into. I
let my mind wander as your scent got stronger
on exactly what you’d taste like. The way your
juices would squirt onto my tongue as I bit in
and chewed. How nicely your meat would sit
inside my stomach, helping keep me full and
satiated.”

More tears had started to well in Pete’s eyes, dripping down his cheeks in soft warm ribbons. Vegas spoke of eating him as if it was the most loving act he could commit.

“But then, you proved to be much more
interesting than I’d first thought. I could see
all the thoughts you kept pushed far deep
down inside of you–that desire for blood, to
relinquish control and let yourself be
consumed. In just one second, millions of
visions shot into my skull of the things I
could do to you–the things I could bring you.
And those visions weren’t mine, Pete. You
keep so many things to yourself, you just
need a little help to unwind, don’t you?”

In one swift moment Vegas flipped Pete over onto his back and Pete let out a sharp cry as he was violently reminded of the worn state of his body. His arm was scratched up and his ankle twisted, his shins bruised and his body covered head to toe in grime, sweat, and tears.

“You were the best meal I’d ever devoured
before I had the chance to even taste you.”

Vegas craned his head to Pete’s neck and placed his slender, wet tongue just above the collarbone, dragging it up with a lingering worship for every inch he covered. Pete shuddered underneath him, and Vegas finally flicked his tongue off at Pete’s jawline.

“Sweet. And sharp. And wholly satisfying
inside my mouth.”

Vegas continued licking up the side of Pete’s face, drinking the hot drops that fell from his tear ducts before he reached his eye. He paused for a moment, letting his tongue rest just at the soft skin below Pete’s eye, and giving Pete time to consider what Vegas was about to do. Vegas quickly brought two fingers up to pull his eye wide open. Pete’s stomach dropped as he saw Vegas’ mouth move closer to his eyeball, his tongue making contact with the white just to the side of his tear duct. Pete’s eye instinctively tried to close from the intrusion but Vegas’ fingers kept it pried open. It stung and tickled. Pete had automatically darted his pupil to the opposite side but Vegas swiped over the whole of his eye, covering both the milky white and the deep hickory brown of his iris in saliva. The thought permeated Pete’s head that the fluid coating his cornea had been lapped up onto Vegas’ tongue, and that Vegas’ own spit was coating Pete’s eye keeping it wet, even worse the two would have mixed into some unholy elixir of both their bodily liquids. Vegas chuckled with a smirk as Pete was completely frozen.

“Every part of you is delicious, dear. And I
intend to savour you.”

Vegas moved his hands to pin Pete’s wrists above his head, then turned his attention to the gash on Pete’s arm. A flicker of hunger came over Vegas’ gaze before he brought his mouth to the wound, drinking the beads of scarlet that dotted the surface. He was careful not to use his teeth–only letting his tongue slip across the graze.

“Your sweat is salty like waves of ocean
crashing on my tongue. And when it mixes
with the flavour of your blood, rich and metallic,
and your warm tears that flow as a fountain
endlessly for me to lap up, it sparks every
neuron pathway in my brain, every cell of my
body becomes new, reborn as it remembers
the purpose it was created for. To taste you.
To worship you. You aren’t the only one who’s
been starved all these decades, dearest lamb.
I too have been desperate–feeding on carcuses
of men who are no more than ants or mere dust.
Dry, dull, and dwarfed entirely by your flavour.”

“I lured them in, once, with promises of their
desires most deep. For some, jewels and riches,
piles upon piles they could never spend even in
centuries. For others, a love. Fair and true that
saw their purest, most wholesome heart and
devoted themselves to it. It was easy to trick them,
a simple change of my form and trick of the light
was all it took. Their eyes would sparkle with
pure bliss at the luck they’d stumbled into,”

“then”

“all at once,”

“I’d open my jaws wide and snap my teeth shut around their throats.”

Pete should’ve been scared. By all accounts, he should’ve been dead. But something other than fear was fermenting in his bloodstream—no—not entirely isolated from fear itself, but like a strange relative of fear. Something equally gripping, equally tense but with a lining of lust around the edges.

“But not you, Pete. Precious little Pete,
stumbling in here with no clue where he was.
No hidden motives for entering my home to
steal or seduce–nothing of the sort. Simply
seeking a place of refuge from the harsh
storm outside. And, when you realised the
castle was occupied you slunk away oh so
politely, so ready to subject yourself once
more to the cruel rain on your back just to
not be a burden in my—a stranger’s—life.
So eager not to overstay your welcome.
There was something so pure in that, I just
couldn’t help but look deeper into your brain.
And there I saw the lusts you harboured.
That insatiable appetite that had never been
fed, not even a crumb, but that grew each
and every day. Both of us know you’d never
let it escape yourself, Pete. You needed
somebody to help you… fall apart.”

Pete stared through half-lidded eyes at Vegas. He felt all his will, all his resolve fading away. Those bonds he kept locked tight around the hunger that festered were loosing apart with every word Vegas spoke. He tried to remember his reasonings for escape but any thoughts slipped out of his grasp, floating further and further away from him.

“That’s it, dear. You don’t need to think
anymore. Just relax.”

He couldn’t give in–he had to grip onto his thoughts, anything at all. Any semblance of sense or trace of the reality that he’d lived for all his life, but he found nothing. This world felt entirely different to him but not foreign. It was as if his previous life had been an escape from this, a dream, and this was his home. Pete was no longer alone inside his own head.

“Are you here?”

“Where?”

“Inside.”

“Inside you. Outside you. Turning each cell
of your body and brain inside out, corrupting
you into my masterpiece of sin. With every
second your mind is becoming emptier and
emptier, each thought I worm out of your
head is more delicious than your flesh could
ever be. You are a gift from the heavens,
and I will deeply enjoy tearing apart your
pretty wings.”

Keeping one hand securely around Pete’s wrist, Vegas used the other to pull Pete’s shorts off in one swift motion, tossing them carelessly into the forest. All Pete could do was gaze dreamily with drooping eyelids as Vegas used his knee to part Pete’s legs, pushing them to open up his hips. He slid his hand up the inner side of Pete’s leg, feeling the delicate skin before stopping at his upper thigh and darting his mouth to the area, biting savagely as Pete cried out. The pain was sharp, forcing Pete to arch his back as it dulled to a soft throb, Vegas’ teeth still lying in the indents in his thigh. The bite was hard enough to draw a little blood that seeped directly into Vegas’ mouth but gentle enough not to remove any flesh. After a moment of keeping his teeth pried around his leg and lapping up any spilled blood, Vegas released Pete’s skin and admired the bite mark. Vegas drifted a hand up Pete’s chest, up his throat and let his fingers splay on the underside of his chin, keeping it tilted upwards with strength so that his fingers dug into the skin around, causing it to turn paler. Then, Pete saw an unholy sight as Vegas’ form shifted before his very eyes. His demonic grin warped, his teeth dripping like stalactites growing sharper and taller with every second, interlocking like iron bars, and his smile growing unhumanly wide. From in between his fangs a strip of pink emerged. A crease lined the middle like an ordinary man’s tongue, but the surface was covered with symmetrical ridges. The end diverged into two like a serpent’s. It stretched forward out of Vegas’ mouth, a strand of thick saliva trailing between his bottom lip and the forked tip, and kept growing closer as Pete wondered quite how long it actually was. How nicely it could fill him up.

“Patience, dear.”

Vegas hissed. The tongue made contact with Pete’s collarbone, working its way along in a hypnotically smooth motion before sliding up Pete’s throat and coating his neck in the viscous liquid. The ridges gliding along his skin and length made the movement torturously pleasurable and Pete whined desperately. Vegas just chuckled and snaked his tongue away from Pete’s chin, slipping it down Pete’s navel, closer to where Pete was desperate for Vegas to touch him, where he was already hard and dripping precum. His cock was burning hot and ached, he couldn’t stand the neglect much longer and wanted to say as such, but just whined out and thrust his hips upwards hoping for any friction. Vegas chuckled as his tongue retreated back inside his mouth.

“So eager for my touch, aren’t you?”

Pete made a moaning noise.

“What happened to that bite in you? That boy
running as fast as his legs could carry him to
get away from me?”

Vegas caressed the side of Pete’s face.

“You buckled so easily under the pleasure.
I can’t say I blame you, after all it’s so simple
to give in when you let yourself. The world
outside can’t offer you anything other than
cruelty and bitterness. But not here, Pete.
Here I will show you the indulgence I know
you crave, and that you most certainly
deserve. The others were far too easy,
so desperate in their folly that they never
even saw it coming–but I have to pull the
sin out of you, it hides deep inside of you.
And you make the hunt so interesting, dear,
you were such a stubborn piece of prey,
and now look at you lying underneath me
so pliant, so ready and desperate for me.
Do you even remember thinking you had to
get away from me? Running and running
and running until your body gave up on you–
do you remember it at all?”

Pete shook his head. He couldn’t think if he remembered anything or not, he didn’t want to remember. This felt too good to let go of, and any logic behind why he should choose freedom was extinguished entirely when Vegas’ tongue made contact with his skin again, this time wrapping around the base of his cock and spiralling upwards around it. The natural lubrication provided by Vegas’ thick and abundant saliva made for slick and easy movements of his tongue as it slipped around Pete’s cock, twisting and squeezing it in a way that both felt painful and horrifically good. Pete cried out and squirmed as Vegas curled his tongue even tighter and began moving it around him faster. Vegas had barely started and yet Pete felt his pleasure rising to a crescendo, but as quickly as Vegas had begun, his tongue slinked away from Pete’s cock, eliciting a desperate groan.

“Not yet.”

Pete moved his hips, desperate for any source of friction as he wriggled underneath Vegas, but he was firmly pinned to the forest floor. Vegas brought his teeth to the base of Pete’s throat and dug a gash into the beginning of his chest. It burned intensely and Pete could feel cool blood spilling out of his neck and dripping down his shoulder blades. Vegas swiped his fingers across the cut, collecting the dark scarlet liquid on his fingertips and bringing his pinky to his mouth, pressing just the end firmly against his tongue and licking, letting Pete’s blood leave a stain in the cracks of his lips. He then let his hand drift downwards, avoiding Pete’s neglected cock and instead beginning to work his fingers around Pete’s entrance. As Vegas slipped a finger inside of him the question crossed Pete’s mind on why Vegas didn’t use his spit as lubrication as it seemed tailor-made for that.

“You relish the pain, Pete. I told you I’d give
you what you needed, didn’t I?”

The sting as Vegas thrust another finger inside Pete, barely allowing Pete to open up, confirmed Vegas’ sentiment as Pete whined, the pain mixing with the pleasure to create a cocktail of sensations igniting his body. The blood did little to provide friction, but the thought that Vegas was using the liquid from Pete’s own body that kept him alive, kept his lungs respiring and his heart beating, to fuck harshly into him made his already aching cock even more eager. Vegas pushed his fingers deeper, thrusting them roughly in a rhythm so perfect it felt as if Vegas was entirely in tune with Pete’s brain, able to see with exact clarity when Pete needed him to push and anticipate it, forcing Pete into a state of pure bliss. Pete’s chest was heaving, he gasped out gargled breaths as his body tried to cope with Vegas breaching its limits. As Vegas continued working his fingers inside of Pete, maintaining a steady pace, he dropped his other hand from Pete’s wrists to the wound on his neck, using his sharp fingernails to push the cut even deeper open, more blood spilling out and pooling around Pete’s head. Vegas adjusted his body, bringing himself closer up Pete’s chest. As he kept his fingers still inside Pete, Vegas slipped his cock from out of his pants and positioned it against the wound, his tip gleaming with Pete’s leaking blood. He began to thrust inside the cut as he pushed his fingers deeper into Pete’s ass, hitting his prostate with perfect precision while simultaneously dragging his cock in and out of the raw wound. Pete made a guttural noise–somewhere in between a gargled cough, a moan, and a scream. The breaths melded together with the taste of blood as Vegas fucked into the wound even deeper, the pain and pleasure becoming all too much at once as Pete let out a cry with a voice he didn’t even recognise.

It was desperate and animalistic, and Pete released ropes of come onto his chest and Vegas’ wrist as everything blended together–the blood tears and come, the suffering and indulgence, where he ended and where Vegas began. Everything was becoming one. He looked up through a veil of tears as Vegas continued fucking his throat still chasing his climax, and saw the world melting around him. Lost in a blissful daze, drips of sky fell onto Pete’s forehead, cold and deep light blue as the forest dissolved like turpentine onto an oil painting. Then the sunlight began to melt too, everything melding into a muddy blur yet one thing remained constant–Vegas. Vegas, here, pursuing pleasure inside of Pete’s body. It should’ve felt unusual yet it didn’t–it felt perfectly natural, as if every aspect of Pete’s body and mind had been made to be emptied and filled up with Vegas. There was no difference in God carving his body when he was first birthed than to now, with Vegas carving his own space into Pete just for himself, as if no matter what he did to Pete it was what he was fated for. Vegas let out a violent groan as he came inside Pete’s throat, his hot come filling up the space where Pete’s own blood should have been. And all Pete could do was smile. It all felt so perfect–in fact as Vegas removed himself from Pete and grinned at him Pete felt empty, but Vegas slipped his fingers into the wound to push his seed deeper into Pete’s bloodstream. There was nothing left except a void of sunlight and inside it, them. Or maybe it was all Vegas. Pete would be content with that.

In a blink it was all gone.

The sunlight, Vegas, everything.

That blissful haze faded as Pete’s ability to think returned. He reached a hand to his throat only to find his skin was pristine, not only that, but his hands were no longer smeared with the dirt from the forest floor and his blood. He flexed his ankles and found no pain. It was as if his failed escape had never happened. He furrowed his brows and tried to make sense of anything that was happening, what was reality and what was fantasie.

“Pete?”

A voice cut through the silence like a blade as Pete’s ears began to ring and his legs sprang into action, pushing him to run further down the hall. He had no clue whether he was sprinting towards freedom or just deeper into this dizzying maze, but either option was preferable to facing the beast confined within its walls.

“Where are you, Pete? I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yet that was all he’d done–hurt him. Hurt him and tear apart the structures of his mindscape, replacing them with an unreality of his own crafting. Vegas had confessed the qualities of his design–luring in those he deemed guilty and sealing their fates, feeding on their bodies. This was no man, nor anyone Pete could trust. And yet, Vegas hadn’t killed him. Plenty of opportunities had arisen and yet his heart still beat. Was it the thrill of the chase that enthralled him such? Would stopping dead in his tracks, prostrating himself like an offering before Vegas cause him to lose interest or simply make things easier for him? As he tried to be sensible, his brain clinging onto any strand of logic it could, his body made the choice for him.

“Come here.”

The man’s voice sent shivers down Pete’s spine and a surge of adrenaline through his blood as he slipped down another corridor, identical to the others as always. He fled past more and more doors, each calling out to him yet this time Pete’s strength pushed him forwards, past the temptations and further away from Vegas until he saw the end of the pathway. No corridors or openings for Pete to escape, only a door standing tall on the furthest wall. Bile rose to Pete’s mouth as he turned around to face Vegas. Vegas bore a frowning expression–like some unhuman replica of pity, and walked at a steady piece towards Pete.

“What now, Pete?”

Pete backed into the door, startling a little as his spine hit the wood paneling.

“Submit yourself to me by walking forwards
into my arms, or by walking through that door?”

He chewed on his bottom lip as his damp hand struggled for the doorknob, the metal rattling.

“Mhm, I see. Not that I mind. This one in particular
is quite interesting—well, I take great interest in
everything of yours, Pete—but!”

Vegas chuckled darkly.

“Nobody could tell just from looking at you that you
harbour such… unconventional cravings.”

Pete took in a fractured breath as he gripped tighter onto the doorknob, the sweat creating a slickness between his skin and the cool silver. Vegas leisurely continued towards him, only about a foot away now, and stretched out his arm.

“So, Pete? What will it be, dear?”

As soon as the heat of Vegas’ hand made connection with his face, barely grazing the fine fuzz of his cheek, Pete twisted the doorknob and ran backwards into the room, sprinting deeper into the emerald light. As he glanced behind him, he saw the midnight silhouette of Vegas standing at the entrance, perfectly still.

Chapter Text

As Pete continued further into the room, he felt a deep humidity pervading his bones and dampening his marrow. The threat of Vegas’ capture was slowly diminishing, so Pete finally took in his surroundings. Lush jungle covered the landscape, every inch of ground covered in abundant greenery. The hum of cicadas and the call of birds blended into a thick blanket of noise that rested on his ears gently. Thorned vines hung from branches like thick velvet ropes, swaying gently in the wind. As Pete walked past them, the chirping clouded the noise of them slithering along the ground, drawing closer to him. Pete maintained his steady pace as the vines slinked through the bushes before striking and snapping around his ankles, causing Pete to fall face-first into the grass. He tried to move his foot to stand again, but was met with resistance from the vines wrapped tightly around his feet. Pete turned his head and, seeing his new shackles, tugged as hard as he could, desperately trying to free himself. The vines didn’t budge. They’d long sunk their teeth into his flesh, gripping onto his body like a parasite.

Pete felt himself being dragged along the rainforest floor. It started slowly, barely noticeable, but soon Pete was being pulled at full force and dug his fingers into the dirt trying to slow the inevitable, yet all this served to do was create ten lines in the dirt. Pete screamed out as he struggled–he wasn’t entirely sure why, nobody was around to save him. He supposed it was a natural instinct to scream out when your life is in danger, or maybe your sanity–some desperate final plea to frighten the predator away or call for help, but Pete’s natural instincts had failed him all his life. They’d brought him here, after all. As Pete was hauled up by his ankles, blood rushed to his head making him feel woozy. The vines continued dragging him upwards, further into the canopy as the details of the ground got smaller and smaller. Pete clamped his eyes shut, he didn’t want to see how far up he was now. The damp monsoon air tickled his skin as he was lifted higher, his feet now beginning to sting as his face went numb.

“So pretty.”

A soft voice hissed out, causing Pete to squeeze his eyes shut even tighter like a child frightened from a nightmare.

“Look at me.”

Pete felt something–something cool and thick and scaled slink against his cheeks, caressing his face. Pete didn’t want to see. But the smallest call from inside his gut told him to open his eyes, to give in and relinquish himself to Vegas’ torment. As Pete’s eyes fluttered open, he saw a serpent towering above him, wound around a tree. Its face was only a few inches away from Pete’s, and he stared into the creature’s beady red eyes. After a few seconds, Pete broke eye contact to inspect the snake further–he couldn’t work out how long its body was, it seemed never ending. Its thick skin was a deep green, the same colour as the vines that wrapped around his ankles. Pete let his eyes flick back up to meet the snake’s cold stare, his heart pounding inside his ribcage.

“You’re beautiful.”

The words broke free from Pete’s lips–an unmistakable fact.

“As are you, my dearest.”

Pete felt drawn to this creature like a magnet. Its deep ruby eyes and rippled skin seemed more bewitching than the freshest sunset or the holiest star. Something sang inside Pete’s chest, melodic and liberated, calling him to worship the serpent, to mold his own flesh and bone into a shrine, his body solely devoted to prayer.

“Hush now. You can honour me in time, sweetest
one. For now, let me prove my devotion to you.”

                                                                                   Two more vines s
                                                                                                             l 
                                                                                                            i
                                                                                                              p
                                                                                                             p
                                                                                                              e
                                                                                                                d around Pete’s wrists,

stretching him out pulling his hands behind his body. Even more vines snaked out from the branches, slithering around him and wrapping Pete up tight. They slowly coiled around his limbs and positioned him, his legs and arms tucked in neatly while two vines pushed his knees apart, opening his hips up wide. One coiled around his tummy and spiralled over his chest, then began squeezing his body tight. Pete let out a sharp exhale as the air was pushed from his lungs and his ribs were crushed, a tightness so overwhelmingly loving.

“I love watching the way you sink into my touch.
Seeing you squirm as I swathe you in my flesh,
pushing all that stale air out of your chest.”

The vines continued pressing into him, making Pete whine as the final gasps of air were squeezed out of him, the tendrils giving one final burst of pressure before loosening their grip around his abdomen and allowing Pete to take in oxygen once more.

“Such a strong little thing, yet so fragile under my
possession. It’s that dichotomy swirling deep within
you that intrigues me such–not only your purity and
innocence but your perfect strength, that drive within
you to stay alive, to keep pushing no matter the
circumstances. But here we are, in a reverie by your
design and you’re completely powerless to resist.
The choice that led you down this path was yours.”

A thinner scaled vine spiralled around Pete’s throat, then rose to rest a few inches from his face, stroking down his cheek as Pete shuddered before landing against his lips. Pete knew what to do, it was encoded in his very DNA. Each atom of his being instructing him to open his mouth, let the tendril slip inside him. Pete didn’t even register the exact moment he widened his lips, only that the vine was now sliding along his tongue. Although it was smaller than the others wrapped around his body, it still filled him up nicely, Pete feeling the ridges of its scales against the inside of his cheeks as it penetrated into him. He gagged as the tip of the vine hit his soft palate, receiving a cooed shush from Vegas, and a slight tightening of the ropes around his body in return.

“This will become easier the further we go, dear.”

As Vegas spoke, the vine thrust down into Pete’s throat, squeezing through his vocal cords and down into the beginning of his oesophagus. He made a gurgled sound around the intrusion as his eyes opened wide, revealing the beautiful creamy whites that encompassed his irises–pitch black from his blown out pupils. It forced its way even deeper, and Pete could feel the texture of the cool tentacle as it slipped all the way down his oesophagus, filling the tube perfectly. As it reached his stomach, Pete felt it coil around inside him, snaking in ribbons to fill up his stomach. As more of the vine packed snugly inside of him, Pete let the sensations wash over him–the scales around his neck, the tentacle pushing against the lining of his oesophagus, and the gradual filling of his stomach. The thought entered Pete’s mind that his stomach acid would soon start to digest Vegas’ tendrils, absorbing the nutrients from the living tissue and beginning to break it down. His body would work to feed on Vegas whether he wanted it or not, and Vegas knew this. Vegas was feeding him.

After filling his stomach, Vegas worked the tentacle into Pete’s small intestine, feeling his way around the curves and twists as more of his length went into Pete’s mouth, the vine crawling from his stomach into his intestine being replaced by more to keep him stuffed full. Vegas gave no break once he’d worked through Pete’s small intestine, immediately moving forward into his larger one, making sure to loop the tentacle back on itself to pack Pete full of himself. Vegas fit inside Pete like a key twisting into its lock, perfectly filling up the ridges and bumps. Made for each other. Soon Vegas had completely filled Pete’s large intestine, too, and Pete was adapting to the sensation. As the tendril neared the end, Vegas pressed a little against Pete’s prostate, eliciting a whine, before slinking the tip out Pete’s ass. Pete groaned out as he realised that Vegas was filling him up wholly, stuffing Pete’s body full of his tendrils. It felt right. The vine began rocking back and forth slowly, providing just a little stimulation to the inside of Pete’s body as two more, even thinner climbed up the side of Pete’s neck, curling around his ears and waiting at the opening before they pushed inside, forgoing any resistance to slither into his ear canal. The sensation was strange, ticklish but pleasant as they burrowed deeper into his head, only stopping with a loud bang once they hit Pete’s eardrums. Then, those tendrils too began to thrust back and forth, creating a beating rhythm resonating deep in his skull.

As Pete squirmed around the tentacles already filling him up, two more hovered in front of his face–however these ones were even thinner and also appeared to be hollow. They stayed eye-level with Pete for a few moments, before dipping down to enter his nose, one inside each nostril. Pete writhed as they bored into his face, slipping along and entering the beginning of his windpipe, before joining the pulsating rhythm of the others. It took Pete some time to become accustomed to it—the feeling of his and Vegas’ breaths becoming intertwined—but once he did, Pete felt like it was the most natural thing he could do. Pete could see the serpent’s body subtly rising and falling with each breath, perfectly in time with his own. Pete let his eyes flutter shut, completely losing himself in the sensations as more vines fled to his body–two tugging and toying with his sensitive nipples, and another wrapping firmly around the base of his cock and spiralling up it. Pete wasn’t sure if he moaned or not, he was unable to hear anything other than the deep thump of Vegas hitting his eardrums. Besides that, due to Vegas’ presence in his throat and windpipe too, Pete could have been unable to produce a single sound or crying out constantly, only Vegas would know. The tendril around his dick lapped up the precum dripping out of his slit, coating itself in the thick liquid as it slipped over Pete’s raw flushed tip, causing Pete’s body to thrash against the tentacles which still held him tight.

With a swift movement, the tentacle pushed into his slit and a burning tingle ran through Pete’s nerves. It tickled as it pushed deeper, the precum doing little to ease it into Pete’s body. It was unlike anything Pete had ever experienced. Any previous experience Pete had with his own desires—hot nights spitting into his palm, stroking roughly at his cock desperate for any stimulation—all melted away as Vegas burrowed his tentacle deeper inside Pete’s urethra, at the same time pushing against his prostate and pulling on his nipples. As Vegas built up his pace, Pete could hear muffled sounds coming from the serpent–similar to human moans yet with a gravely quality to its timbre. Pete wasn’t the only one getting pleasure out of this. Vegas sped up even more and Pete began to work his hips up and down, thrusting himself desperately around Vegas’ tentacles and relishing in the feeling of being completely full. Pete could feel his pleasure rising to a crest as strands of cum spilled out of his filled cock. He twitched in the grip of the tentacles, drool spilling out from his lips and tears dripping from his eyes as Vegas continued fucking him, the feelings torturous in how intense they were–yet Pete was grateful. Pete wanted Vegas to fill his body, not only with his tendrils but also with his seed, pouring inside every crevice of his body, ready to fertilise, ready to become host for Vegas’ DNA. Then, Pete felt it. The rush of hot liquid into him–his sinuses, ear canals, throat and stomach and ass. Pete pushed himself even deeper into Vegas’ tentacles as come leaked out, dripping down from his face and down his neck.

For a moment, Vegas let his tendrils sit snugly inside Pete, before he began slipping them out–the ones inside his ears leaving first, then those in his nose and urethra. It felt just as good going out as it did coming in, the tentacles tickling the lining of Pete’s guts as the residual come fell out in slow, warm drops. More come was pushed into Pete’s mouth as the vine in his stomach exited, Pete making a gurgled gasp as it slipped free from his lips, leaving a thick strand of drool and come trailing from Pete’s mouth to its tip. Pete let his eyes open softly and was greeted with the lustful ruby gaze once more.

“Beautiful. A lotus-eater by your own design and
yet set free by my touch. How good does it feel
to let unbridled pleasure wash through you, your
body a mere vessel for the indulgence I can pump
through your veins?”

Pete whined out, his throat dry.

“Your lips were made to purse around the sweetest
fruits, and my tongue to lap up the juices that spill
down your chin. As I split the apple with my bare
hands I worship the bite you take, eager to taste its
honey-perfume and waxy skin. I worship the dilating
of your pupils as the chemicals hit your bloodstream,
coursing their addiction throughout your body and
changing your very chemistry. The gift you’ve given
me—to worship you—is the sweetest embrace to
my soul.”

Pete could barely get a sound out, all of his tubing fucked raw, and yet he managed to push the air out of his lungs speaking in a barely audible whisper.

“More.”

A smirk traced the serpent’s mouth displaying its two milk-white fangs as its eyes narrowed, the unmistakable instinct of a predator eyeing its prey. Then, its pink forked tongue appeared from between its lips as it bobbed its head down to Pete’s aching cock. Pete threw his head back as the tongue grazed the base of his length, teasing him with feather-light strokes up and down. The regained freedom of Pete’s throat allowed him to sing out from the pure pleasure that sparked in his nerves as the serpent slid its tongue up Pete’s cock with greater pressure now, easing up his shaft and curling its tongue. It slowly began to speed up its movements, his cock still well lubricated from when Pete came before. Vegas’ tongue was smooth and hot, working in a torturous rhythm that hypnotised with each stroke up, down, up, down. On the faster upstroke, Vegas let his forked tip brush over the head of Pete’s cock, causing Pete to come once more, coating the serpent’s tongue in his salty-sweet come. It felt too good, a delicious aftershock to the all encompassing orgasm he’d experienced earlier. He trembled in Vegas’ vines, whining as his breathing slowly returned to a more normal pace.

“Don’t let me wake up, Vegas. Please.“

He said, his voice full of urgency.

“Let me have more. More. Please.”

Pete wriggled in the grip of the vines, desperate to have them inside of him once more–or even just tighter, crushing his lungs.

“More.”

He screamed out. He was met with a cruel chuckle from the serpent’s mouth causing two warm tears to spill down Pete’s soft cheeks.

“Patience, dear. Did you not wish to worship me?”

“Yes.”

“Then let you worship.”

Chapter Text

Pete’s eyes shot open, greeted by the sight of the dark hallway around him. His body felt empty once more and the wetness of his passageways had cleared, leaving him uncomfortably dry. He let his fingers drift up to his bottom lip, desperate to find any trace of semen or saliva–some form of tangible proof that Vegas had been inside him, yet found nothing. Pete formed his hands into fists, his arms trembling as he brought them up and pounded down on his thighs, the dull ache soothing Pete’s anger. He slammed his fists against his legs a few more times, hoping that tomorrow purple-blue bruises would bloom–some mark to prove the experience with Vegas had really happened–that it had changed him. He took in a shaky breath as tears began to well in his eyes, coughing and spluttering on the exhale. Pete used the back of his hand to wipe the tears and spit from his face, standing up and looking around him. He needed to find the next door. As he began to walk, he heard soft whispers spilling out from underneath each door. Faint coloured light, too, poured from each.

One offered a peachy glow,
promises of sweetness,
mango juice trickling down his neck and numb
bee-stings on his lips. 

Another, a gleaming aquamarine–salty ocean
pouring into his throat, filling up his lungs and replacing
the oxygen with swirling water,
‘til his body becomes bloated and stuffed.

Another, sultry gold.
Reverence in the preservation of his form
still in time, cast in molten
metal. An object to let gleam in the light.

Fantasies swarmed behind every door, calling him to come and taste their feasts–but it wasn’t right. No, Pete needed to resist temptation and venture onwards, to find the altar he could use to worship at Vegas’ feet. As he walked past even more doors, he noticed their unique shades and words. 

Devotion to a cause unknown, inky tentacles
wrapping around his chest.
The taste of salt on his tongue, and purest
pleasure in the hands of a demon.

The sharpest needles
weaving underneath his skin,
the trembling in his spine
as his warm and holy blood pours out.

Liberation beyond anything felt before:
his mind dripping
out of his skull, safe in the loving hold
of his owner.

Then, Pete heard whispers so sweet, calling to his soul like a tragic recitative. It sang to him:

Come into me,
let you melt in your desire,
I promise you
a chapel
to rest your head
and pray.

Pete slinked closer to the door and pressed his ear to its wooden face, feeling it beat beneath his flesh.

Come into me,
bodies hot, old body’s pyre,
I promise you
still waters,
stiller ripples,
calmer still.

Pete spoke in language clear and precise.

“Do you have what I desire?”

“Plenty.”

The voice was unplaceable–neither man nor beast.

“And He?”

“He waits for you here, my child.”

The more it spoke, the more Pete realised how similar the voice sounded to his own.

“Let me pray.”

“As you wish.”

Pete stepped inside, cold moonlight hitting his fresh skin as his foot made contact with the ground–icy marble. He made his way calmly forwards, his arms outstretched in the low light. A figure stood not far in the distance–its arms, too, outstretched and its eyes a potent lilac. As he walked closer, Pete saw his own image before him.

His forehead gleamed with sweat,                                                                                                              his bare breast too, dripped.
His eyes shone with                                                                                                                                            sweet newborn light.
He let his mouth slip into a smile                                                                                                         bearing his teeth in a peacocked
display of violent plumage.                                                                                                                             He reached out his hand,
letting fingertip press                                                                                                                                                into fingertip and
palm to                                                                                                                                                                                     palm.
Another image caught his eye                                                                                                                   in the peripheral to his right.
Him once again, those same lilac                                                                                                           eyes, the same ravenous smile.
Staring into the reflection, countless                                                                                                   duplicates of himself looked back,
stretching on for                                                                                                                                                            infinite space.
Pete let his hand push                                                                                                                                  deeper into the cool glass.

                d                                                                                                                                                                     d

          r            i                                                                                                                                                          e           D

 m           i           s                                                                                                                                                   f           e        w

       i         p          t                                                                                                                                               o         l         a

The   r        p         o                                                                                                                                              c         i        t   ran

         r         l          r                                                                                                                                             u         c       e

      o         e         t                                                                                                                                                 s        a        r

  r            d         e                                                                                                                                                    e        t           s

           ,           d                                                                                                                                                            d         e

                  ,                                                                                                                                                                      . 

across its surface as coolness swam round Pete’s fingers. He pushed deeper, letting his skin intertwine with his reflection as a bitter cold took his knuckles, his hand, his arm. He took in a deep breath, clamping his eyes shut as he pressed his head inside the mirror. The world inside the reflection was not entirely liquid or solid–some in-between state untraceable by science or logic. His eyes drifted open to take in his surroundings. Strands of his hair drifted aimlessly as if underwater and specks of dust floated around the silvery blue. Pete stepped inside, immersing his whole body in the mirror and finally allowing himself to inhale. He could feel the atmosphere pouring into his lungs, fuelling his body in a way entirely unfamiliar yet comfortable. He let his gaze drift back to the mirror he entered from, staring at the Pete on the other side. Taking in his reflection, he saw a smile come upon his lips and yet his own face remained still. A hand came into view, its ring finger tracing along the soft edge of Pete’s jawline. He looked to the side and found no hand tracing his chin, only his reflection’s–and yet he felt the touch just the same, the softness of Vegas’ fingers brushing past the fine fuzz on his chin. The hand slipped down from his face to his throat, Vegas’ touch hot as his fingers ran over his chest and found their home firmly on Pete’s shoulder. Pete watched, completely spellbound as Vegas came into view, standing directly behind Pete, his grip still possessively strong on Pete’s shoulder. With his other hand, Vegas placed his index finger at the nape of Pete’s neck, then quickly let it run down his spine causing a rush of shivers to jolt through Pete. He quivered as Vegas smirked, the man devouring him with those eyes.

“Such smooth, supple skin.”

He watched as Vegas moved his lips to the side of Pete’s throat, trailing hot kisses from just below his ear down to his collarbones. Vegas’ soft hair tickled Pete’s skin as he bit down, forcing his sharp canines into Pete’s flesh.

“A perfect canvas for me to mark.”

Vegas’s sharp fingernail ran along Pete’s collarbone, carving a line of deep pink onto his chest, blooming the blood vessels beneath the surface of his skin with the touch of his finger. But in Pete’s peripheral vision he saw no such mark appear on his own chest, no flushed streak on his cool expanse of skin. He was entirely unmarked.

“Go deeper.”

Pete saw Vegas pause, not with hesitance but with a sense of pleasant surprise, before he ran back along the mark pushing his fingernail harder this time. The scratch deepened, growing into a harsher red. The sensation deepened too–a sharp sting with an aftertaste of heat. Pete laughed, relishing in the pain, but his laughter grew bitter as he noticed the lack of a mark still present on his own skin. He stared at his reflection, the beautiful blush that spread around the scratch, the proof that Vegas had been here and had chosen to mark him–chosen him. 

But his body was unmarked.

A white-hot rage took over Pete, who found his hands gripping at Vegas’ wrist pulling it closer to his mouth and sinking his teeth around the flesh. He saw not Vegas’ hand in front of him but feeling it was enough–the warm and salty skin along his tongue, the iron-tinged blood that spilled out onto his mouth. As Pete dug his teeth in deeper, feeling the hollow he was carving into Vegas’ flesh he heard the man hiss out a cry of pain. He finally released his grip on Vegas, both letting his mouth and hands ease off Vegas’ flesh. Pete stared into the mirror, trembling with pride as he watched Vegas inspect his hand–the red finger marks around his wrists and the deep bite wound just below his knuckles. Pride sparkled in Vegas’ eyes, causing joy to blossom in Pete’s gut. Vegas wasted no time in expressing his emotion, letting his mouth work on Pete’s throat again, placing kiss after kiss, lick after bite. While Vegas continued worshipping Pete’s neck, he brought his bitten hand up to Pete’s lips, offering the wound as a gift. Pete took it gladly, sucking at the mark to bring Vegas’ blood out and into his mouth. Pete committed the taste to memory: salty, but with an undertone of sweetness that clung to his throat, cloying in the most beautiful way. Vegas withdrew both his hand and mouth at once, gripping onto Pete’s chin and forcing him to look straight into his reflection. The reflection that kept him caged, away from Vegas’ real touch and real marks. Pete’s trembling became more intense, his chin shaking as Vegas held it steady. 

“Calm, my dear. Is worship not intended to be
selfless?”

“Yes.”

“Then let you prove your devotion. Let me take
from you and leave no proof for you to marvel
at. Religion needs no proof for her to plant her
roots deep into your soul, only belief. Do you
believe I am marking you, Pete?”

Pete knew he was. He had felt Vegas’ nails against his collarbones, his teeth on his neck.

“You are.”

“I believe as such, too. Therefore I am. Do you
wish to worship me, Pete?”

“I will.”

“Then let me take my fill of your wine and bread.”

Vegas began biting his reflection’s skin once more, and Pete watched as red-wine marks bloomed. Pete let Vegas work, worshipping the craftsmanship of his tongue and teeth, both sharp and kind as they sunk into this holy act of communion. He bit along his chest, lining his breast with bruises, before he moved down his torso, dragging his teeth along the subtle bumps of Pete’s ribs.

“Confess your prayers to me, dear.”

Vegas whispered into his flesh, biting and kissing his hips.

“I thank you for the gifts you bestow on me.”

Pete whined out, the pressure of Vegas’ mouth and fingertips intoxicating as he slipped them down Pete’s hips, over to kiss along the soft curve of his ass.

“I thank you for your love and kindness.
The grace you show in allowing me to
worship you. I thank you for creating
me, my Lord. My God.”

Vegas’ tongue worked deeper as he spread Pete out with his fingers, giving himself easier access to Pete’s hole as he ran his tongue around it.

“My God.”

“I hear you, dearest one. I will bring out your
deepest desires, distill your essence and
bring them to the surface so that I may make
each and every one come true.”

Vegas’ tongue did not cease as he began his liturgical speech, in fact his voice seemed to come from inside Pete’s own head.

“I devote my life to you.”

“And I to you, Pete. I cherish you as my follower,
my sole devoted worshipper. A single other who
so much as tried to hear the words I speak
unto you I would strike down before my first
syllable could reach his ear-”

“No.”

Pete spat out. Vegas stopped working his tongue around Pete’s hole, slipping it out as his curiosity spiked.

“They don’t deserve your wrath, your
touch to end their life.”

Pete shuddered as he spoke, the mere idea of Vegas’ skin in contact with another’s filling him with hatred. Nobody else deserved Vegas’ touch. Only him. Pete wanted to lock Vegas up, to isolate them both in a tower no one could reach and hand Vegas his leash. Nobody else was worthy of Vegas’ touch.

“I’d kill him before he could even look
at you. I’d grip my hands around his
throat and push until his body gave out.”

Pete smiled as he spoke breathlessly.

“Choke him until his life ended. Make
sure that his final thought was
free from you, from the purity of
my God that he doesn’t deserve to
let clean his dying thoughts.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Yours.”

Pete spoke barely above a whisper as he turned to face Vegas, realising that he was completely surrounded by mirrors–himself and Vegas in every direction, every possibility laid forth around him. 

“Yours.” 

Pete dropped to his knees, ready to continue his act of worship. He used his reflection as a guide as he began to unbutton Vegas’ black trousers, pushing down his boxers with desperation and immediately stuffing Vegas’ cock fully into his mouth. Vegas moaned and tilted his head back as Pete started sucking with all his strength. He swiped his tongue over the tip, let the underside of it glide along Vegas’ shaft as he took more of his cock in, then hollowed out his cheeks as Vegas hit the back of his throat. Pete devoted himself to Vegas’ moans, memorising the exact speed, the exact pressure that Pete needed to please his God. He closed his eyes tight, after all he didn’t need to see, only to feel. He wanted to prove his worthiness, prove his pure devotion so with every thrust in, Pete took it deeper. Deeper, constantly bruising his throat as Vegas began helping–thrusting in and out of Pete’s mouth as if he were made for this. He was. Pete was made to worship in every way–his body made to be filled, his mind to praise Vegas. Pete quickened his pace, and within two more thrusts he could feel warm semen pouring down his throat as Vegas made a final cry out. Pete kept his cock snugly in his mouth for a few moments, milking any remaining come out of Vegas before he let his lips slip off.

“All yours.”

Pete looked up, eager to see the pleasure painted on Vegas’ face, to let pride swill in his heart–but something else caught Pete’s attention. The reflections–countless men like him staring up at Vegas, on their knees in servitude after having worshipped him. 

It was wrong.

Pete looked around–he should’ve been the only one to worship Vegas. He looked at their bodies, adorned in bruises and bites, traces of come on their lips and he ached. Pete should’ve been the one marked, he was supposed to be the only one Vegas would let worship. Pete pounced, springing up from his knees and slamming through the mirror in front of him, stretching out his arms to reach for Vegas. Instead of leaping into his arms, however, Vegas turned into vapor before his very eyes. Pete gritted his teeth and looked around, staring at the reflections of himself that looked back–Vegas nowhere in sight. He looked further around, reflections inside reflections, casting mirrored images of Pete that sprawled on for infinity. As he looked through the endless space, searching for any trace of Vegas he spotted it–the blood red of his shirt. Pete followed the man with his eyes, watching as he disappeared once more. Pete began to shake. His eyes began to water. He couldn’t let Vegas slip away from him, he couldn’t let someone else worship him–the thought made bile rise to Pete’s throat. Only he was allowed to worship Vegas, he’d strike a dagger into the heart of anyone else who dared try.

A noise broke Pete out of his thoughts–a soft moaning coming from behind him, skin slapping against skin. His eyes widened as he turned around, body stiff to see a distorted image: himself in a state of pure bliss, head dropped back, bangs sticking to his forehead as he worked himself up and down, sliding on Vegas’ hard cock. Vegas was seated, his legs spread wide to offer Pete a full view of the show. He watched in horror as he bounced on Vegas’ cock, Vegas’ hands playing with his nipples as Vegas kept eye contact with Pete. Marked. Stuffed full of Vegas. Pete seethed, gripping his hand into a fist as he screamed out, striking right in the middle of his reflection and shattering the mirror. Shards of glass fell to the floor, a few clinging into Pete’s knuckles. Warm blood began to drip down his hands, droplets falling onto the shards on the floor. 

Pete saw only himself in their reflections.

He looked at his hand, the blood dripping was his own yet it was proof, proof he was the only one Vegas could have. Proof Pete would do anything for him. Proof he was devoted. He shakily turned his head round, watching as another warped reflection came into view. Vegas was holding Pete down, one hand sprawled tightly over his wrists while the other was wrapped around his flushed cock, stroking roughly as Pete whined out. Before Vegas’ head could reach Pete’s chest, to plant some kiss or mark, the illusion was shattered with a swift kick. Pete smiled as the blood welled in his foot, wasting no time in turning back around, the glass crunching underneath his heels. This time, Vegas was on his knees–head down as he spread his tongue into Pete’s ass. The mirror broke easily with a punch. Pete rutting up against Vegas’ leg like an animal in heat, a quick strike and it was shattered. Vegas’ mouth wrapped around Pete’s cock–a kick to his forehead, Vegas’ lips on his, another punch. Pete lost himself in the spiral, the horrific perversions filling him with adrenaline to strike again, and again, and again until no more reflections remained. Only Pete stood, in a pile of shattered glass that reflected blood red. Pete, and the reverence for his God, whom the blood on his hands was for. Proof of. Pete dropped to his knees, ignoring the way the glass opened up new wounds on his legs, and grasped his fingers together.

“I thank you for the gifts you bestow on me.
I thank you for your love and kindness.
The grace you show in allowing me to
worship you. I thank you for creating
me, my Lord.”

“My God.”

Chapter Text

Pete awoke in the hallway on his knees, his hands still clamped together in prayer. He let his eyes close again, this time neither anxious to run away nor to find the next door. Instead, Pete took a deep breath and focused his attention solely on the thought of Vegas. Vegas’ eyes–the way they’d shone a ruby hue like Pete had never seen before, pure seduction in their penetration of his soul. Vegas’ words–his voice soft and sweet like honey inside his head, whispering sweeter still adorations of Pete, promises of the things he would do to him. Vegas’ love–worship, servitude, the kindness Vegas showed in allowing him to pray, and in turn praying at Pete’s feet himself. Pete didn’t need anxiety to guide him, or any emotion. Vegas would show him the path to take.

“Dearest one.”

His voice tolled—the source clear—Pete’s own head.

“Dearest.”

“Yes, my love.”

His love. His Lord.

“Stand yourself, and walk forwards. Keep your
steps slow. We are in no hurry.”

Pete found his body obeying before his mind even registered the words–rising up from his knees as if being pulled by marionette strings and placing one foot slowly in front of the other. There was no need for Pete to stretch his arms in front of him, the room was dark but Vegas would not let him fall. As he walked, Pete placed his arms behind him, crossing his wrists and pulling his arms taut to ensure his posture was perfect for Vegas.

“Wonderful, Pete. You trust me dearly don’t you?”

“My faith in you is unwavering. You will guide me
where I must go.”

“Yes. I will, sweet boy. Keep walking for me.”

Pete obliged, not worrying where he was going or in how long he’d get there. There was no room for doubt, not even a hint of it in his mind, no, Vegas had made sure of that when he poured the fear out from Pete’s brain. It was beautiful, the feeling of his skull being cracked open and the plaque removed, leaving him fresh and reborn all without Vegas laying a finger on his head.

“We’re closer, now. Can you feel that?”

Pete could feel it. He tuned into his organic senses–feeling his heart thump louder, stronger, his breaths begin to rise and fall faster and a heat spread through his skin.

“Can you see me?”

“Of course, Pete.”

“Tell me what you see, please my Lord.”

The voice paused for a moment before replying, and Pete swore he could hear the tinge of a smile colouring his timbre.

“I see a devoted beast, one who’s system of
religion goes beyond what others can
understand. It takes a ewe to follow, but it
takes a bloodhound to craft his own path. You
crafted it beautifully, too, slicing through thicket
and thorn with your teeth, following the scent
of your master even when you didn’t know who
he was. I once told you, many hours ago now,
that you were like a lamb, Pete. But you’ve
evolved since then, and I’ve been lucky enough
to see your transformation into a beautiful hound,
so soft in my arms as a lapdog yet I know what
you are capable of. Soon, my pet, I will let you
hunt. I look forward to watching you bear your
teeth and growl, drool pouring from your primal
canines as you await my command to bite. But
for now, the intermission is over. The next act
awaits.”

“Let’s put on a good show.”

As Pete opened the door, a gentle breeze ran across his body–tepid evening air that carried a fresh scent. Pete inhaled and closed his eyes, deciphering the notes of the wind. He could make out the clear smell of pine needles, the earthy richness of soil and sweet flowers–perhaps roses. The sky bled a dusky hue, faded clouds painting over most of it. He appeared to be in a meadow of sorts–rolling hills stretched as far as the eye could see, each one coated in a blanket of flowers. He crouched down to pick one of them and inspected it further–it appeared something like a wild indigo, one central stem tall and proud with drops of purple sprawling to its sides. He brought the flower to his nose, letting the petals tickle his skin, and inhaled. Its smell was incredibly sweet, yet far from cloying–more like a ripe fruit than saccharine. It brought Pete a wave of nostalgia, for what exactly he was unsure, but the scent brought with it a certain familiarity that made Pete feel safe in its embrace. He tucked the flower behind his ear and began to wade further into the field, keeping his steps light to avoid trampling any of the indigoes. It was unclear what precisely Pete was searching for aside from some semblance of Vegas, but one feeling pervaded his chest–the feeling that the more he was surrounded by these flowers, the closer he was to home. He could almost feel the soft grasp the petals had on his soles as they clung on with each step, begging him to take pause and rest. Pete supposed he could. He sat down into the sea of flowers, their scent immediately becoming stronger. He smiled. His muscles began to relax and his mind to calm, this was peace. As Pete laid down, letting his body become completely submerged in purple a simple fact entered his mind. These flowers were Vegas. Pete breathed in their intoxicating scent with this in mind, pride swelling in him that he was inhaling Vegas, that this was what Vegas wanted for him. Perhaps Pete would die here. 

If not, just rest. He imagined the flowers growing taller over his wrists, swaying in the wind like a barely moving metronome. There was pure contentment in staying exactly where he was, simply letting the scent of the flowers permeate his nostrils and the spring air lap its tongue over his chest like an over-eager dog. Pete watched the clouds move above him, slowly drifting along the sky. A flock of crows danced overhead, he watched as they metamorphosed from tiny black specs into worldly fowl, then back into dots again as they flew off into the horizon. The sun, at first barely visible but still clinging on to the afternoon light, had slunk below the hills in what must’ve been the west, and the moon had begun to rise, casting a rabbit-light on Pete’s cheek. As the air began to cool to twilight’s shadow, Pete heard the thumping of hooves in the distance, clomping a bright allegro. He turned his face to the side, watching as the dark silhouette grew larger and more details were exposed the closer the creature came. Soon, the features of a wild stag began to appear as it charged nearer to Pete–perfect elegance in its strides. Its hide shone with a silvery crepuscular glow, and two antlers sat tall perched upon its head. Yet no fear planted roots in Pete’s heart, as he knew that just like the flowers beneath him, the sky above him, and even his own body, this stag too was an extension of Vegas.

He smiled weakly at the beast, eager to show his pleasure but his muscles lazy from the intoxicating perfume of the flowers. It continued darting towards him, getting closer now, and Pete could see the detailing of its fur, soft spikes swaying in the wind. Closer still and he could stare directly into its eyes that reflected back the evening sky. The eyes that bore right into him, that saw him for all he was and all he could be. As it approached even closer to him, it began to slow its pace down to a trot, coming to a halt at his feet. Pete looked up at the stag towering above him through half-lidded eyes and admired its beauty. Up so close he saw the crescents of white around its large hazy pupils, the kindness in the starlight-speckled irises. There was great beauty in the elegance of its limbs, yet the creature struck a dichotomy in the sheer power of its body. It used its slender legs to propel itself forwards and its interlocking antlers to thrust into battle, a mess of weaving bone clamouring for dominance. This creature held in its muscles great power, yet it stood sweetly in front of Pete, observing him. A part of Pete wished to reach out his hand, to feel the deer’s soft fur against his flesh and intertwine himself with Vegas, but the kind bed of indigoes made him far too tired, his limbs lazily locked to the ground. He was, however, just able to stretch his arms above his head and cross over his wrists, arch his back a little and open up his hips. The perfume intoxicated him yet the unquenchable need to offer himself to Vegas, to spread himself out as a sacrifice with subtle movements begging Vegas to take him, still persisted deep within his being. The stag seemed to delight in this, its stout tail wagging back and forth as it walked forwards, standing above him. Pete closed his eyes and tilted his head back, baring his throat for the beast in hopes it would take it. He felt something warm and wet gently tickling his skin in short stripes, coating his neck in its saliva. A giggle escaped Pete’s lips which quickly grew into a laugh, his body rolling around as the deer continued.

Unbeknownst to him, the creature began to shift–first its snout retreating and flattening, then the fur falling away into thin air as it continued licking even through its transformation. A wet nose turned into wetter lips that began to caress Pete’s throat, planting kisses and marks in between brushes of its tongue. Its torso shifted and curved, taking the form of a human’s, while it shed its hooves, too–five slender fingers growing out instead. In fact, when Pete opened his eyes again he was greeted by the sight of a human almost exactly—soft raven hair like Pete had seen when he first arrived and supple olive skin that clung to his sharp cheekbones. Only the climbing antlers perched atop its head gave any indication that he was not a man. Although the desire to reach out and touch was stronger than ever, a far stronger part of him felt much too tired. The lips on his neck retreated, and Pete could feel Vegas’ warm breath crawling up his skin, over his chin until their faces touched–forehead against forehead, nose to nose.

“Hush, my love. Let me bestow unto you my
gifts. All you must do is take.”

Pete let a smile play out across his lips–of course. If Vegas had wished for something more, Pete would have known it. Vegas had given him instruction now and Pete was powerless to resist, he needed to obey and let Vegas give. And Vegas did, first snaking his left hand up Pete’s arm, taking his time over the soft skin until he reached Pete’s wrist. Instead of pinning it down with great force, he wrapped his hand around softer this time, sliding his index finger to nestle into Pete’s palm for added restriction. Vegas let his mouth return back down–nibbling along his jawline then planting firm hot kisses over his neck. Pete whined, throwing his head back further to subtly allow Vegas more access, causing Vegas to withdraw both his lips and hand.

“You must take what I give you, Pete–it is not
your place to decide what or what not that is
now. You must let yourself relax. Take a deep
breath in, Pete. Smell the perfume of my
indigoes.”

Pete inhaled, his nostrils flooding with the strong scent. With each particle that entered his nose, he felt his body growing weaker once more, that same laziness spreading in his mind. No sunlight shone, yet Pete felt the warmth of it just the same–hitting his body in a perfect embrace. So calm. So sleepy. Pure safety in the blanket of purple tucked snug around him. Pete’s eyelids began to flutter closed, only a hint of milky white peaking out as a small smile formed again on his face. This prompted Vegas to smile too, gently stroking his cheek.

“Don’t they smell good, dear? Nice and sweet.”

Pete tried to acknowledge Vegas’ question with a word, but all that came out was a soft moan. Pete couldn’t even press his cheek into Vegas’ hand, it took far too much energy that Pete simply didn’t have. No, Pete only had enough energy to lay and breathe in the floral scent, simply appreciating whatever Vegas deemed him worthy to have. As Vegas continued stroking his cheek, Pete moaned out again–not asking for anything more, but simply relishing Vegas’ touch.

“Doesn’t it feel so wonderful for your muscles to
melt away? With every breath your body turns
softer, gelatinous, as your mind too becomes
mush. It hurts to think, doesn’t it my love? It
feels so, so bad to even try and bring anything  
into your pretty head, never mind moving those
useless little muscles of yours. If you need help
to be pushed into sin, Pete, help is what I will
provide you.”

The scent of the flowers got even stronger, pulling Pete’s body deeper into the ground as his mind became hazy.

“Though, I suppose it is a testament to your
determination that sloth is what comes least
naturally to you. A boy, running his whole life.
Running from his father and running from his fists.
Run far from a home that was never his.
Then, from the strangers that eye him up like
hungry slobbering hogs, offering baht for blow,
a hundred for each tooth spat out. Betting on
him like a game dog. They’re sick animals, Pete,
who we will soon bring to slaughter. But as for you,
my dearest pet.”

Vegas dropped his tone, whispering as if confessing a secret shared only between them, yet known by every element of the universe.

“Never again.”

“I will teach you what it means to rest, to relax and
let yourself melt into pure bliss. For the thought of
wanting more to never even enter your mind, as it
would simply be too much effort. Relax, Pete, you
need not even breathe nor think. I am the air in your
lungs, I control the contracting of your heart and the
stretching of your diaphragm, and I will ensure that
your body continues all its natural functions to keep
you alive. All that you must do is take.”

Pete smiled as he breathed in and out slowly, blinking lazily. He could take. It was easy to take.

“My sweet boy.”

Vegas cooed as he brought his lips to Pete’s, pressing a rewarding kiss into his mouth. Pete returned the kiss, mirroring Vegas’ exact level of intensity and no more. Tongue slipping into his mouth and Pete let his own brush against it, but the moment it withdrew so did Pete’s. Taking what he was given. Vegas let his teeth give a quick nip to Pete’s bottom lip as he ended the kiss, Pete swiping his tongue over the slight indents left behind on his flesh, gratitude blooming for the marks. A hand ran through Pete’s hair as Vegas admired the sight of Pete staring up blissfully at him–not anticipating, simply appreciating Vegas looking at him. A hunger washed over his gaze and soon his lips were back on Pete’s, this kiss more desperate—fervent even—Vegas using more tongue and far more teeth. There was pure passion in the way Vegas kissed as if he was consuming Pete whole, to which Pete let himself show his passion too, bringing his lips closer around Vegas’ as he melted into their symbiotic display.

Continuing the kiss, Vegas drifted his hand up Pete’s chest, circling his right nipple with his thumb before swiping over it, his fingernail catching and sending a small jolt of pleasure through Pete’s body. He gripped Pete’s nipple between his thumb and index finger, kneading and squeezing the tender bud until it became perfectly stiff. Pete twitched–the heaviness of his muscles preventing him from squirming or his hips from bucking, the instinctual reaction his body wanted to give. But there was something meditative about being almost unable to move, it made Pete far more aware of the exact sensations when there was no escape from them. Vegas’ fingers moved from Pete’s nipple up to his neck, gently holding his throat as he began to trail kisses downwards–over Pete’s chin, his neck, his chest. His lips worked softly, sucking small marks onto Pete’s skin that tickled much like the stag’s tongue. As Vegas licked down his navel, he gasped–the sharp inhale of air coated with that thick sweet scent. Pete could feel it blanketing the lining of his olfactory organs, changing their very purpose–no longer to provide him context to the world around, instead another way for him to experience the pleasure of Vegas, of Vegas inside him. Vegas paused at the expanse of skin just above Pete’s tender cock, planting a firm kiss before looking up at Pete who trembled under his predatory gaze.

“You are perfect, my love. So sweet in learning
patience, allowing me to take my time with you.
Worship is no quick gratification–was Job not
rewarded for his suffering? You will be too, dear.
I will sing high praises of your bones, sonnets for
your skin and hymns for your hips. Only when I
have committed the map of your pores to memory
can I allow myself to taste your sacred flesh. A God
must not be quick to lie with his creation–no matter
its beauty, it needs time to be worshipped to make
the most of its body. To honour it.”

In a swift movement Vegas’ lips dipped to Pete’s cock, swallowing his entire length in one mouthful and sparking an eruption of pleasure through Pete as he gasped, caught entirely off guard. Vegas laughed, grinning as he kept his lips wrapped firmly around the base of Pete’s cock, careful to keep his tongue tucked away to avoid giving Pete any stimulation. Pete forced himself to appreciate the sensation–the wetness and heat of Vegas’ mouth, the pleasure of Vegas surrounding him even with no friction. Pete felt fingers on his legs, running up his thighs and squeezing the firm flesh, leaving pale marks behind in their wake. They found their home on Pete’s hip bones, his right thumb tracing lazy circles along the taut skin teasingly slow. A voice rang out inside Pete’s head.

“Breathe in.”

Pete’s lungs obeyed unconsciously, filling up with sweet air that made his body relax even more–that made his mind fill with gratitude for what Vegas was giving him. The sensations of Vegas on his skin heightened, his soft and pillowy lips cradling his cock, providing a warm home for it to stay. Vegas was safety, he was comfort, and Pete wondered how it had taken him so long to realise that.

“You learn fast, my pet.”

Vegas’ voice dripped with praise, lined with a patronising edge as it echoed and bounced around his skull.

“Such a good dog deserves a reward for obeying
its master’s commands. I know just what will
make you fall apart, dear.”

Vegas’ teeth clenched around the base of Pete’s cock, sending a searing pain shooting through his nerves and forcing a guttural groan out from between his lips. Vegas laughed darkly, parting his lips but keeping his teeth clamped around Pete’s tender and reddened flesh. He began to slide his mouth up–providing Pete a cruel source of friction that burnt as much as it felt wonderful. Vegas took his time stretching out the process, making every inch he moved up Pete’s cock torturous. His muscles clenched up then released, spasming in confusion at the pain, the pure pleasure. Once Vegas reached the tip of his length, he swiped his incisors over it, causing Pete to scream out once again, the noise gargled from the saliva collecting in his throat. Eager to milk another delicious groan out of Pete, Vegas used his tongue to gently lick Pete’s tip, giving him a touch of relief before he sunk his canine directly into Pete’s slit. Pete didn’t recognise the noise that came out of him. The scream of pure agony sounded much less like a man and more like some wild creature in heat, desperate and powerless to its primal urges. Vegas pushed his tooth in deeper, Pete spouting sobbed out whines in return as his cock stung, until finally there was relief and he was only left with a dull aching tip wet with saliva and precum, and the unforgiving night air growing cooler around his cock. A harsh contrast to Vegas’ warm and comforting mouth. He relished in the afterglow of the pain, giggling too as Vegas began to laugh out in awe. Vegas crawled up his body like a serpent yet his motions were angelic as he leaned his head against Pete’s throat, his soft hair against Pete’s skin, the warmth of Vegas’ body and their shared heartbeat.

“The sight of you is unbearably beautiful, spread
out, languid among my flowers. Tell me, Pete.
Do you wish to see?”

Pete stared at Vegas through half-lidded eyes, but forced a weak smile onto his face, the movement hard but Pete eager to see himself. Vegas returned the smile, slipping his fingers into Pete’s hair as he pulled him into a passionate kiss. He let his eyes flutter shut. The deeper Vegas’ tongue fought into Pete’s throat, the stronger the colours from outside the veil of his eyelids shone, like fireworks bursting behind drawn curtains and cloudy glass. A sea of purple washed over, one shadowed spot of black remaining in the centre. As the image became clearer, Vegas’ tongue pushing against the back of his throat, Pete could make out the silhouettes of two men–one with antlers sprouting from his head, sticking kisses to the other who was laid on the ground. Vegas was right. They were a beautiful sight. As Vegas let his tongue retreat, the image blurred once more, their two silhouettes becoming one–until they became everything. He bore his teeth a touch, smiling wider despite the struggle. The two stared into each other for a moment, the knowledge of their shared beauty locked tight in the smile lines of their eyes. Vegas’ hand slipped from Pete’s hair to cradle his face, his thumb mindlessly drifting over Pete’s bottom lip. 

“Breathe in again, dear. Nice and deep for me.”

Pete could barely register Vegas slipping down his body as he took another inhalation–only the feather-soft touch of Vegas’ hair let him know. He let his head fall back and his eyes flutter closed as Vegas placed his hands lightly on Pete’s knees and pushed them apart, opening his hips up. The fingertips drifted up to his thighs then splayed, and suddenly Vegas’ lips were against his hole, kissing around it with a touch so gentle, as if Pete were made of porcelain and would shatter at a greater pressure. Pete’s breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling fast as Vegas continued working his lips on the delicate skin around his hole, kissing and drifting his tongue around it in intoxicating movements. Pete whined, the sensation too good. His cock still ached from Vegas’ teeth on and inside it earlier, giving a sharp edge to the warmth of the pleasure. 

Once Pete’s hole had relaxed, Vegas worked his tongue inside, lapping at Pete’s ass with primal desperation. It tickled a little at first, but as Vegas began to penetrate deeper the feeling evolved, pleasure sparking in his nerves and running through his body, up and down his spine like electricity. Pete pried his eyes open through the waves of pleasure crashing down at him to be greeted with a beautiful sight–Vegas at worship between his legs. Only his soft midnight hair gleaming with the purple hue of the sky was visible, swaying gently with the movements of Vegas’ head. Vegas was establishing a steady rhythm, one that had Pete whining with every inch deeper Vegas’ tongue went in and out. Vegas moaned too, the vibrations singing through Pete’s bones, adding yet another layer of pleasure, forcing him down into the depths of bliss that Pete never knew was possible. Yet finally here, entirely surrounded, all he wanted to do was sink even deeper. Pete could feel the weight of his body dragging him down, the pressure from the water pulling him deeper under and his feet were inches from the ocean floor, so close to salvation. He wanted to kick his feet, scuff up a cloud of sand with his toes but he was powerless to move, he needed it–Vegas, to let him reach the bottom and he was so close.

Pete was yanked from the tide pool as the tongue slipped away, the once strong crescendo dying away to a meek pianissimo. Pete bit down on his lip, mourning the loss of the pleasure as he took another breath and was flooded with pleasure of a different kind. One less intense, less sexual and more spiritual, spreading warmth through his body and making Pete feel a sense of gratitude for what Vegas had given him. The pleasure was a gift in itself, one that Pete relished even without the final reward of coming. Pete released his lip, reddened from his own teeth and Vegas’ earlier assault on it, and instead smiled. He smiled at Vegas, at the beauty of his master and the pleasure he was showing Pete. Although Vegas’ tongue had ceased its pursuit inside Pete, Vegas still remained between Pete’s legs, watching him with curiosity that reminded Pete of the graceful stag. The deer-like eyes softened as Vegas grinned, reaching out a hand to caress Pete’s cheek.

“My darling pet, you have learnt wonderfully.”

Then, the heat of Vegas’ hand drifted away from his face and back to his thigh, and Vegas’ mouth was back inside Pete’s hole. Pete’s eyes widened at first before relaxing into half-lidded moons, a sliver of silver just peeking out beneath his violet irises and blown-out pupils. Pete watched as the antlers atop Vegas’ head began to rise and grow, snaking out into the air and closer to his body. New branches grew, sprouting new branches which bore newer branches, an entrancing display of fractals webbing out over Pete’s flesh, casting him in a cage of living bone. Vegas flattened the tip of his tongue, giving himself a greater surface area to work into Pete and causing Pete’s pleasure to increase tenfold. Dew formed along the waterline of Pete’s eyes. The antlers continued growing, sprawling into an unwinnable maze that stretched over his ribs, collarbones, dangerously close to his throat. For every inch the antlers grew, Pete’s bliss did too, and he could feel once more the ocean floor was growing closer again. The tips of the antlers near Pete’s neck sprouted new tendrils that clutched around his throat, locking him in place and pinning him down.

They were cruelly rigid and kept a pressure strong around Pete’s neck, making him fight for each strained breath he could take. His head began to get dizzy with the lack of oxygen his brain could use. Vegas worked deeper into him, and Pete could feel his toes just touching the sandy floor, ecstasy so close he could taste it–the sweetness on his tongue. His pleasure peaked, his body twitching as he came untouched, letting out a hissed cry and ropes of come as the antlers breached the sacred barrier of his skin, piercing into him. His warm blood pooled out around the wounds, the sharp stinging pain mingling with the afterglow of his orgasm. The antlers still penetrated deeper inside of him–carving pathways into his chest and throat, claiming him like a beautiful war spoil. With great effort, Vegas reared his head, lifting Pete up by the antlers strewn throughout his body. He hung, his body limp yet his brain buzzing with pleasure as he was lifted even higher up into the air, mounted like a hunting trophy. He could feel the blood oozing out from him, the come trickling down his thighs. He closed his eyes.

This was bliss.

Chapter Text

Pete’s eyes drifted open. The weight of a hand hung on his back. Warmth against his bare skin. Pete was kneeled in the corridor, Vegas naked and kneeling to his side with his face buried into Pete’s neck. Pete slowly craned his head to look at Vegas, resting his forehead against his hair and planting a kiss on the top of his head. He was in awe–Vegas was with him.

“You’re here.”

Pete couldn’t believe it. He looked around at the dimly lit corridor–it was brighter now. There was nothing to suggest that this was another fantasie, a tale as beautiful as it was strange. No absurdity bore into the crevices of the walls, no tendrils to pierce him or vines to bind. And Vegas was here.

“Of course, my dearest.”

His voice came out muffled, his face still pressed into Pete’s skin like a desperate animal clinging on to comfort. Pete reached his hand to nestle into Vegas’ hair, stroking it in slow motions, eliciting a soft exhale from him–warm air breathed into Pete’s skin. The two stayed in silence for a moment, locked in their embrace, Pete enjoying the softness of Vegas’ hair under his fingertips.

“Pete.”

Vegas broke the comfortable silence, his voice strained. Pete answered with a curious hum.

“Soon, the night will be over.”

Vegas spoke robotically, as if forcing himself to read out a script. Pete’s hand paused its caressing of Vegas’ head. He swallowed. This couldn’t have all been for nothing, Pete couldn’t go back to his ordinary life, clinging on to its high and wishing he could’ve stayed. He pushed Vegas’s head closer to him.

“The doors will open for you.”

“The tempest has cleared, I am sure. I cannot
prevent you from leaving if you so desire.”

Pete’s stomach dropped. Bile rose up to his throat. Was Vegas asking him to leave? How cruel a game to show Pete his deepest desires then snatch away the opportunity to make them come true. No, how cruel a game to show Pete love then snatch it away. Vegas had taught him what it felt like to love another selflessly, and to be loved in return, worshipped. Pete couldn’t have his God ripped away from him, not even by death. He gripped his fingers tighter into Vegas’ hair and squeezed his head closer as tears welled in his eyes. Pete gathered his strength and spoke with determination.

“I won’t leave.”

Vegas looked up at him, his countenance shocked. His eyes had widened, showing milky white all around his pupils as he stared up at Pete like he couldn’t believe that Pete was here. That Pete would stay.

“Pete.”

Vegas tackled Pete to the floor in a moment of overwhelming love, resting his forehead against Pete’s and laughing against his lips, tears dripping down and spilling into Pete’s own eyes. Pete reached his lips to place a kiss on Vegas’ mouth, which was eagerly returned with loving bites interspersed with tongues locking together.

“Every day I will show you a thousand reasons
why you are right to stay. I will worship you
how you were meant to be worshipped, bestow
unto you all my love and all the gifts I can give.
My darling. I love you.”

Vegas kissed into Pete once more, full of love and passion. It was a kiss that spoke promise between them, whispered echoes of ‘I’m here to stay’ in the wet sounds of lips crashing against lips. Death had no control over the lovers’ fates, only each other had the power to destroy and rebuild themselves, as they were each other’s Gods. Vegas owned Pete, and Pete owned Vegas. Pete embraced Vegas’ cheek, gripping onto it as he felt Vegas do the same, holding each other's faces in pure worship. As the two finally pulled away to breathe, Pete dragged his thumb over Vegas’ lip, feeling the hot soft skin and collecting a thin layer of saliva—their mixed saliva—on his thumb. Vegas was here. He had chosen Pete. Pete had chosen him.

“I love you, too.”

Overwhelmed by emotion Vegas reached in to kiss Pete once more, somehow even more intense than the last time–a battle of tongue and teeth. Pete moaned as Vegas thrust his tongue deep into Pete’s throat, his hand trailing down Pete’s chest. Pete bucked his hips, squirming and grinding into Vegas’ leg which caused Vegas to push his knee inwards, helping provide Pete more stimulation until it was cruelly torn away. Pete whined, earning a coo from Vegas.

“Hush, my love. Do you not wish to receive the
night’s final reward?”

“Desperately.”

Vegas took Pete’s hand and smiled.

“Then we shall go.”

Pete knew the path to the last doorway instinctively, like the knowledge had been etched into his brain all these years waiting for Pete to use it. This house was no longer a maze to Pete, no longer stranger to him but kind and familiar. His home. This time Pete was not searching for an exit, or anything–in fact, Pete was walking hand in hand with his love. Pete led the way, Vegas’ hand in his as the lovers reached a door of deep wood, much like the rest. Pete reached for the doorknob and pushed it open, rose light immediately flooding out from the entry.

“Are you ready?”

Pete smiled and gave a quick nod of his head, before stepping with Vegas through the door.

Inside, it looked the most like an actual room out of all the doors Pete had gone through tonight. Its decoration was sparse, candles illuminated the room in a soft rose glow, and the left wall was lined with shelves holding jugs, leather, lace, steel. The right wall bore a large closet, the door to which weaved over and under itself, an intricately carved panel of cherry wood. In the centre of the room stood a large canopy bed, its bedding a creamy white silk that shone back a peach hue in the warm light, tucked neatly into the corners of the bed frame. Transparent white curtains draped down in seductive ripples, and Pete caught a glimpse of the mirrored top of the canopy peeking through the silk chiffon. Vegas placed his hands gently on Pete’s shoulders, standing behind him with his body pressed right up against Pete’s. Pete burned even more. Vegas brought his lips to the shell of Pete’s ear, pressing a wet kiss before dragging his tongue down from the helix to his earlobe and softly biting.

“Do you like it, Pete?”

Vegas whispered into his ear. Pete let his head fall back as Vegas’ hands moved from his shoulders to drift over his chest, feeling his collarbones, the warm skin of his breast.

“Perfect.”

Pete managed to get out breathlessly, words not coming easily to mind nor mouth. Vegas relished Pete’s stuttered response, rewarding him with a lick to the inside of his ear and hands gripping onto his chest, fingers playing with Pete’s steadily hardening nipples. Pete’s sharp breathing transformed into a warbled cadence of moans, to which Vegas laughed and grinned. Vegas’ hands drifted to his waist, settling just above his hips then sliding, sensuously slow, underneath the waistband of his pyjama shorts. Pete moaned softly as Vegas slipped the shorts off his body, revealing his plump ass which Vegas practically salivated at. Pete pushed his back deeper into Vegas’ body, grinding himself against Vegas’ hardening cock. After a few strokes of Pete’s body up and down, Vegas swiveled Pete round and pushed him onto the bed, his limbs sprawled out helplessly.

“You’re doing beautifully, my love. But I have many
more things in store for you.”

Pete pouted and bit his lip, crawling onto his hands and knees and making his way to the edge of the bed. Vegas greeted him there, cupping Pete’s face in his hands curiously. Pete didn’t speak–he only sprang himself to Vegas’ throat, placing kiss after kiss as he gripped onto Vegas’ hips to keep himself steady. He eagerly pulled away and moved down to Vegas’ cock, greedily taking it into his mouth and beginning to suck. Vegas was still stunned at Pete’s desperation, yet he settled into it–holding Pete’s hair and making little circular motions with his thumb as Pete began to take him deeper.

“So full of surprises, you are.”

Vegas’ voice was airy, his sentences ended with little groans–little morsels of proof that Pete was doing well to serve him.

“You really are such a beautiful one, Pete. So
submissive and eager to please me, yet equally
eager to be rewarded with my touch.”

His words became more and more strained as Pete increased his pace, hollowing out his cheeks too. A thick coating of saliva formed around his lips and Vegas’ cock, dribbling down his chin and falling onto the floor. There was an insatiable drive causing Pete to take it deeper, to make Vegas come–to provide pleasure to his master. A noise formed in the back of Pete’s throat, a muffled primal moan that shot tingling vibrations through Vegas’ cock and made Vegas smile.

“Fuck, Pete.”

For once Vegas dropped his eloquent phrasing and metaphor to simply moan out two words–one of them being Pete’s name. This only spurred Pete on more, as he began to gag on Vegas’ thick cock with each thrust he took, ensuring it hit the back of his throat hard. While Vegas’ pleasure was rising his fingers never once stopped their caressing of Pete’s head, nor did they become any harsher. In a way, it was comforting–like Vegas was ensuring him that he was doing a good job, that he was being a good boy and therefore should be rewarded with praise. On another level, a level that made Pete’s gut burn–it was a reminder that Vegas was still in control. Even when Pete brought him to the crest of bliss, his hot seed crashing into Pete’s mouth as he let out a soft moan, he maintained complete control of even the micro movements of his hands, orgasm not enough to pull the reins from him. Not enough to stop him from rewarding Pete. Vegas’ head fell forward as he panted, droplets of sweat dripping down his flushed skin and falling to the floor. Pete released Vegas’ cock and looked up at him, proud. Vegas smiled in awe at Pete, the stars reflecting back in his eyes.

“My darling love. You truly are my blood moon. I am
blessed that the heavens sent you to me to let free,
to feed.”

Vegas let himself fall onto Pete, straddling him on the bed as he continued to stare like Pete was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He cupped his cheeks once more, pinching at the damp flesh with his thumbs.

“You’re my saint. My fallen angel. And I will worship
your descent into sin every second I live.”

Vegas took Pete’s hands and pressed his lips against them.

“Kiss these bloodied hands that tear and scratch,
grovel at the feet you used for so long to stamp
down your vices. I intend to stuff you to the brim
with sin til you’re bursting at the seams with the
pleasure I can bring you, Pete.”

He ravenously began sucking kisses onto Pete’s fingers, trailing down over the bones of his wrists and the soft skin of his arms. He dragged his tongue along Pete’s throat, up his chin and straight in between his lips, lapping hungrily into Pete’s mouth. Vegas’ forehead rested against Pete’s, body heat transferring between them as Pete deepened the kiss, bearing his tongue like a sword to thrust into against Vegas’, hot and sticky and wet. After already tasting Vegas’ come, Pete was desperate for more. He needed more of Vegas–around him, through him, inside him. He needed Vegas’ semen in his stomach, his blood on his teeth and his pulsing heart in his ribcage. Pete had become inhuman. Some creature that ached for more, that begged its master to feed him more and more and that was rewarded for its greed. Rewarded for its sin. Vegas’ tongue slowly snaked out of Pete’s mouth, a trail of saliva bonding the lovers’ lips.

“Darling, let me retrieve some toys for us. I
promise you will have your fill very soon.”

Reluctantly, Pete sat back on the bed and let Vegas go, watching as he walked over to the shelving and traced his finger along the cabinets, looking spoiled for choice. He settled on a large silver jug which he picked up and brought over to the bed, perching down and resting it on his thighs.

“Kneel. Spread your legs wide and open up
those hips for me.”

Pete manoeuvred himself onto his knees, resting his ass against the soles of his feet and stretching his legs apart until he felt a burn run through the muscles of his inner thighs. His lips were open a little and his eyes glazed over, just like his mind. Only one thing ran through his head–please Vegas, earn the right to come and milk his come. Pete stared at him, awaiting his next instruction.

“Spine straight, neck tall. Stretch your shoulders back
for me. Place your hands on your knees, palms up.
Fingers together. I expect you not to move from this
position, Pete. Understood?”

Although forming words felt like a foreign concept to Pete at this point, he forced himself to recall a basic knowledge of language, as nodding his head would be breaking his pose.

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Vegas smiled, looking at the jug before moving his attention back to Pete. He ghosted his fingers over Pete’s cheek, over his lips, watching as Pete’s drooping eyelids fluttered shut rapidly and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Next, he moved his fingers to Pete’s nipples, an area he was learning Pete quite enjoyed–just as Vegas did, too. He kept his touch light at first, barely touching the surface of the sensitive buds before he pushed deeper, trailing firm circles on them that sent tingles through Pete’s spine. Pete closed his eyes, using all his energy to concentrate on keeping still.

“No no, eyes open.”

Pete felt a sting of shame as he pried his eyes back open, though it was immediately quelled when Vegas smiled and planted a kiss to his forehead.

“There’s my sweet pet. Now, you’ve had enough
of a warm up.”

Vegas picked up the jug and brought it to Pete’s chest, tilting it until a stream of clear, steaming liquid poured onto his collarbones. Pete did his best not to move, truly, but a shiver may have slipped out of him. He hoped Vegas wouldn’t mind. He seemingly didn’t, as he focused his attention on the oil dripping down Pete’s breast, coating his skin in a glorious sheen. He placed the jug back down and began to work the oil around, running his hands over his flesh until it was left shining beautifully. The oil highlighted all of Pete’s natural curves, especially the fullness of his chest. Vegas couldn’t help but imagine how delicious Pete’s ass would look as it was even fuller than his tits, shining in the light like Pete had been reborn. Reborn to be worshipped. Vegas poured more of the warm oil onto Pete’s neck, watching hungrily as it trickled down his body. He rubbed it in once more, this time covering Pete’s throat with both his hands, perfectly symmetrical, in just enough of a firm grip to slightly constrict Pete’s airway. Vegas’ hands against his body and the warmth of the oil made Pete want to melt away, to ooze out onto the bed in front of Vegas and spread his legs open wide, to be fucked til he was left a used puddle. But disobeying Vegas’ orders would not earn him the reward of being filled, Pete knew this, and yet he still yearned. He tried to focus purely on Vegas at this moment and the fingers spreading oil around his skin, but the thought kept crawling back into Pete’s head that those fingers should be inside of him.

“It’s not your fault, my love.”

Vegas explained, buffing the liquid over his shoulders.

“Behind each door is a part of yourself, Pete. Some
part of you locked deep away. Each room is
designed by your own subconscious to play to your
strongest desires, and help you let loose those sins
you’ve denied yourself for so long. Like watching an
opal reveal its full spectrum of colours under different
light, you too are opalescent. Therefore, each aspect
of this room is plucked from your head, expertly
crafted to drive you into insatiable lust.”

As Vegas spoke, he poured more oil into Pete’s skin, this time smoothing it along his arms until they too shone bright.

“This is my design.”

Pete whispered breathlessly, acknowledging the words as the pure truth. Vegas smiled and hummed in agreement.

“I know what you are thinking. How you burn at my
touch, yet know that to receive what you wish for you
must obey my command. Your poor little mind is at
war with itself–one side desperate for pleasure, aching
for me to just fuck into you like a primitive animal. The
other needs my permission, my approval and praise.
You want so desperately to be obedient for me, yet you
can’t control what you are, Pete. A slut who needs to be
used.”

Pete whined tuning into Vegas’ words and not his soft hands over his flesh, but Vegas’ words were also cruelly mocking. Vegas knew the torment Pete was under, he loved it, and Pete loved it too. As much as his body and mind was under stress, desperate for some form of relief–the dichotomy felt so good. His head was full, but full of Vegas. The way it always should’ve been. Pete pushed back his shoulders to bear his chest out further, realising they’d begun to sink from the position. Pete could see in the corner of his eye his body glistening, buffed and shiny. He felt like a statue as Vegas lacquered him up–something to be stared at and admired. He was beautiful. Vegas had made him beautiful.

“No, Pete.”

Vegas’ hands paused on Pete’s skin as he sighed, staring at Pete with a reprimanding yet pitiful gaze.

“You have always been beautiful. Only now have
you begun to see it in yourself.” 

Pete’s lips grew into a smile as the words rang through his head again, again, again. He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful. Vegas poured more oil onto his tummy, then trickled even more down his thighs. The bedding was beginning to dampen, the pure silk stained and slicked. As Vegas ran his hands over Pete’s legs, he pushed them apart a little, inducing just a little stinging in his muscles and reminding Pete to keep his hips open. He coated all around Pete’s thighs, then moved Pete’s lower legs to gain access to his shins and feet. He was extra gentle working his fingers around Pete’s toes, coating each and every crevice in oil and in the process sparking tickles through Pete’s feet that threatened to make him squirm. Yet he kept his body tight, only shaking a little but desperate to keep in position for Vegas. After covering both of Pete’s legs, Vegas moved to perch behind Pete, placing the jug to his side and taking a moment to drink up the sight of him as still as stone.

“I saved the best for last–I couldn’t help treating
myself. Do you know how much I love this ass,
Pete?”

Vegas gave Pete no time to respond, immediately digging his fingers straight into the swell of Pete’s ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh.

“Ripe and juicy, delicious both to the eye and to the
tongue.”

He sunk his nails in before releasing, leaving pink crescent marks on Pete’s cheeks. Pete’s body trembled in a desperate effort to keep still. His cock was hard in between his legs, the tip flushed and dribbling out precum. Pete felt oil pouring on the back of his neck, dripping warmly down his spine. Vegas placed his hands on Pete’s shoulders, beginning to shine his skin once more with a teasingly gentle touch. Once the upper portion of Pete’s back was oiled, he slipped his hands round to Pete’s front, gripping onto his chest and using it to pull Pete into him, spreading the liquid with his own chest. Pete could feel all the details of Vegas’ sculpted torso rubbing the oil against his back–his muscled chest, his hardening nipples. Vegas grinded his body left and right into Pete’s spine as Pete kept rigid, only moving when Vegas positioned him, though his cock was growing more desperate, aching to be touched.

“Fuck me, Vegas-”

He spat out, still keeping his body in position as to not disobey Vegas’ orders.

“Fuck me, Please. I need you inside me, I need
you filling me up, fuck me please, Vegas. Fuck me.”

Pete begged, his voice strained and full of desperation as if he was begging for life itself. Vegas didn’t entertain Pete, only leaned back and returned his hands to run over Pete’s back again.

“What an eager slut.”

Pete whined out in agreement.

“Eager. Desperate. Every word you call me is right,
just please fuck me.”

In the back of Pete’s mind somewhere, he was aware that he was acting rather demanding, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to consume Vegas whole, for their ribs to intertwine and their blood to flow as one. He needed Vegas now, and he’d do anything for it.

“I know you want to, Vegas. You need me just as
bad as I need you. You need to fuck me, Vegas.”

Vegas had instructed him to stay still, but he hadn’t told him to keep quiet. Pete was going to take advantage of this as much as he could. Vegas bit his lip, unsuccessfully trying to stop Pete’s words from affecting him. Although he kept up his indifferent facade through continuing his mission of oiling Pete’s body—working on the area just above his ass—his tender cock weeping precum betrayed him.

“I won’t stop begging you, Vegas, because I know
you like it too. You love to hear me talk about how
I need your cock, how you trained me so well to
salivate at the sight of it, at the sight of you–to
purse my lips and let you feed me, yes, you trained
me too fucking well because now your little pet
has gained a taste for it, I’ve grown greedy and-”

Pete was cut off by Vegas’ fingers in his mouth, yanking at his cheek while pressing his other hand into his waist, forcing Pete to double over as his mouth ached. Vegas brought his mouth close to Pete’s ear, so close his lips touched the skin.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, Pete?”

Pete slipped his tongue against Vegas fingers, craning his head to suck on them, forcing Vegas to finger fuck his mouth. Vegas sneered before ripping his fingers out from Pete’s mouth and settling them into his hair, gripping it while coating it in saliva. He lifted Pete up and off the bed by his hair, supporting him a little at his waist but still causing a shooting pain to run through his scalp. Vegas tossed him down onto the floor in front of him, then stood up to stare down at Pete.

“You knew I am the flowers in the field, the sky
at night, even your own body and the air you
breathe. Every part of this castle is an extension
of myself, Pete. And now you too have sunken
into my jaws. Therefore, if my bitch is in heat,”

In one quick sharp movement, Vegas slammed his heel down onto Pete’s cock, crushing it and sending a searing pain through his body.

“He can fuck himself on my floors.”

Pete bit his lip as he stared up at Vegas through half lidded eyes. He probably could’ve had Vegas’ cock inside of him by now if he’d just waited, but this was a reward in itself. Pete manoeuvred himself–first getting on to his hands and knees, then sprawling himself flat on the floor, his head tilted to look up at Vegas. Despite Vegas’ degradingly cool mask, it was obvious that he was enjoying this just as much as Pete. His ruby eyes sparkled, Pete’s pathetic reflection speckled with stars, and a smile tugged at his lips. This made Pete yearn even harder, and he began rutting into the hardwood flooring. At first there was pure pain–Pete’s cock stinging as he thrust it along the lacquered panels of wood with no lubrication other than his precum and the sparse amounts of oil that had transferred to the floor. Pete clawed the floor with his right hand, slowly dragging it down his throat to oil it up as he continued humping, then down his chest and over his nipples, down his navel where Vegas’ voice made his hand freeze.

“No, pet. You had your chance to fuck yourself
earlier. You’re going to come from grinding
your slutty hips against the floor like the pathetic
bitch you are.”

Pete swallowed and forced his hand back along the floor, away from the place he desperately craved pressure. He’d have to settle for friction from the unforgiving hard floorboards. He wiggled his hips, thrusting his face down as he grinded the head of his cock into the wood. The little friction he could get felt undeniable heavenly, especially knowing he was gaining it in such a humiliating way. He was humping the floors which Vegas walked on, prostrating himself at Vegas’ feet all because he was too horny just to wait. The ridges where the planks locked together were sharp and stung the head of Pete’s cock, yet Pete couldn’t help wanting more. He looked back up at Vegas to see him staring intensely, sucking on his bottom lip as his chest gently rose and fell in short breaths. His cheeks hollowed out before he spat onto the floor just in front of Pete’s face.

“You want some help, doggy? Then you can get
yourself off with my leg and my fucking spit.”

Pete crawled forwards to the patch of spit and dragged his cock in the liquid, coating it in a thick sheen of saliva and precum. He gripped onto Vegas’ hips, using them to drag his body up so his cock was against Vegas’ shin. He began to thrust desperately at Vegas’ leg, rutting like a desperate animal in heat. He felt like it, too–like his brain had been reduced to that of an animal’s and he was bound to his primal urges. To feed. To procreate. To survive. He threw his head back, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he let out a deafening howl, his voice metamorphosing into an animal’s–the creature Vegas was driving him to become. He looked back to Vegas with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Vegas was entranced by him, utterly and entirely. Vegas’ breathing had become rapid, his eyes half-lidded as he chewed on his bottom lip and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His hand reached for his cock, grabbing frantically at the base and immediately beginning to work up and down.

“Just like that–keep fucking yourself on my
leg, pet.”

Vegas’ voice was soft and airy, his words pushed out with great force. Pete responded with a whine that wavered with his thrusts. Vegas’ body served as a good object to thrust against, not only because his flesh was much softer than the hard wooden flooring, but because of the warmth of his skin. There was blood pumping through Vegas’ body, his master’s body, and he was allowing him to use it to rut against. Vegas had seen Pete and deemed him worthy of drinking his holy water, of feasting on his flesh. Hearing his thoughts, Vegas used his spare hand to rest on Pete’s head, guiding it to his hip. He pushed Pete’s head until his lips were wrapped around the skin, his teeth beginning to indent on the flesh. Pete needed no command this time, as Vegas’ actions were clear enough, spoken directly into his head. Pete slowly sunk his teeth deeper, gripping onto Vegas’ flesh as it squeezed and bulged inside his mouth until Pete ripped his head away, taking the chunk of flesh with him. All the while he continued to hump Vegas’ leg, the pleasure combining with the salty taste of Vegas’ blood in his mouth to send him even deeper into bliss. He kept eye contact with Vegas as he chewed on the meat, taking note of the texture of the flesh and skin–familiar like that first night. Pete swore he could see Vegas’ hand grip tighter around his cock and his movements get more intense, as if witnessing pete eat a part of his body drove him even more insane. Pete made a show of it, sticking his fingers into his mouth and pulling them out coated in blood and saliva, all the while staring at Vegas. Pete kissed his fingers and hand, smearing Vegas’ blood all over his face. He let his fingers run down his throat, making sure all of Vegas’ blood was on his skin, that it would stain and be absorbed into him. Pete placed his hand back on Vegas’ hip, using it to fuck himself even harder at Vegas’ leg.

“You drive me fucking crazy, Pete. When you
stare at me like that–when you bite and chew
and tear off my flesh, it makes me want to flay
myself for you and present my meat on a silver
platter. Only the finest for my dearest pet. You’re
hungry and desperate and I fucking love it, pet.”

Pete moaned, grinding faster into Vegas’ leg and staring up at him with huge lustful eyes. He stuck his tongue out, showing Vegas the lump of half chewed meat, still coated with blood. Vegas smiled before craning his head down, pulling Pete deep into a kiss as he slipped his tongue over Pete’s, taking the morsel of meat from him. Vegas pulled away, their lips coming apart with a pop as Pete focused his energy on thrusting at Vegas’ leg urgently. He threw his head against Vegas’ tummy as he came, painting Vegas’s shin with hot come. Pete trembled for a moment, frozen as he let the afterglow of his orgasm rush through him, but Vegas continued working at his cock, not far from his own climax now. Pete swiped his tongue over the wound on Vegas’ hip, leaving a stripe of blood up Vegas’ torso. He looked up to see Vegas chewing, masticating the meat with his sharp canines. Pete desperately wanted a taste of it, of Vegas seasoned with Vegas’ saliva.

“Open your mouth wide, pet.”

Vegas spoke, his mouth still full of food. Pete obliged immediately, kneeling directly in front of Vegas, his hips wide and his palms up, and let his jaw drop down. Vegas spat the chewed up flesh into Pete’s mouth, the wet ball drenched in blood and saliva dropping straight down onto Pete’s tongue. a few splatters of it hit Pete’s chin, but Pete would make sure to lick those up later. Vegas grinned and spat again, getting the rest of the meat out of his mouth and some extra saliva into Pete’s, too. Vegas gave him several a couple more strokes before placing the head of his cock into Pete’s mouth and shooting come directly onto the pile of masticated flesh. Vegas caught his breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he removed his cock and looked down at Pete, who was still kneeling with his mouth obediently opening, perfectly showing his hip flesh on Pete’s tongue, covered in both his and Pete’s saliva, his blood, and now his come. Pete committed the taste to memory–salty and rich, full of iron and a little musky, before he closed his mouth and swallowed, adoring the sensation of it slithering down his throat. Pete licked his lips, covering the tip of his tongue in blood and catching the stray strands of meat.

“Beautiful boy. I do hope that will keep you satiated
for now.”

Pete nodded eagerly, his hunger had been quelled for the moment.

“I never got to see your pretty ass shining for me,
and you’re already being so obedient–palms up,
hips wide, ready to give whatever I take you. It’d
be a shame to waste such a good slut.”

Vegas turned around to retrieve the jug of oil, poured a little into his hand then, without warning, dumped the remaining contents onto Pete’s head, greasing Pete’s hair and making oil flow down over his face, open eyes and lips. Pete smiled, watching Vegas toss the jug carelessly to the side before caressing Pete’s face, rubbing his cheeks and swiping his thumbs over Pete’s eyeballs, coating them with oil while Pete’s eyelids desperately tried to flutter closed. When Vegas’ thumbs retreated, the world was left masked behind a hazy veil of oil. Vegas laughed in pure delight, moving behind Pete and pushing him onto all fours. Pete sank down from his hands to his elbows, giving Vegas better access to his hole and wiggling his hips up a little as he arched his back.

“You look delicious, darling.”

Vegas ran his tongue along Pete’s spine, gripping onto Pete’s ass as he began to spread the oil around.

“Does it turn you on, Pete? To know how much I
want to eat you?”

Pete moaned out one response, burying his face further between his fists.

“We have infinite lives to live. Every desire to fulfil
and new ones to forge. I will eat your flesh
countless times just as you will eat mine. And my
love, I will consume you.”

Vegas spoke with such authority, but even without his words Pete knew it was true. Vegas would consume him–had consumed him and would continue to over and over again, just as Pete had consumed Vegas. Their love was an ouroboros of obsession, infinite in their lusts for one another. Vegas gave a quick slap to Pete’s ass, watching as the oiled skin rippled from the hit and a red mark began to form. He slipped one finger, still coated in a thin layer of oil, inside of Pete’s hole inducing a moan from Pete. This was what Pete wanted, Vegas’ fingers inside him–Vegas inside him, and it was a thousand times better than he imagined.

“Vegas-”

Pete worked his ass up, penetrating himself deeper on Vegas’ finger, desperate for it to reach further inside of him. Vegas obliged him, thrusting another finger inside with a little sting, Pete’s hole barely accustomed to the first.

“You need to be fucked that bad, huh?”

“Feed me, Vegas, Please.”

“My sweet pet.”

Vegas cooed, his tone mocking as he continued to thrust his fingers into Pete.

“Don’t you remember what happened the last
time you got greedy? You weren’t even allowed
to touch yourself. You’re lucky I’m being so kind
in fingering you right now.”

“Please, I’m going to go fucking insane if you
don’t let me come again or don’t let me take
your cock.”

“Maybe I’d like that. To see you made slave to pure
carnal urges, to see the beautiful sweet lamb bloom
into a fresh, dangerous creature, its power great yet
entirely uncontrolled–even the creature itself bows its
head and kneels beneath it. You would, I’m certain of
it, be entirely beautiful in your insanity. And I would
love being the owner of such a beast, proudly walk
you on the finest leash, your fur shining, your jaws
never muzzled.”

Vegas added a third finger, continuing to open Pete up while painting a vivid picture for him of the life they could live–the life they would live.

“I’ll take you into the forest where the scent of fresh
blood will soon linger–let you lift up your nose and
trace the scent of our prey. Then, I’ll unhook your
leash and let you run free, watching as you bolt
ahead, your mind filled with only one objective:
to hunt. It will be pure beauty to witness you in your
element as you leap to attack our victim, tearing into
its flesh with your talons and wild teeth. Then, we will
drag the animal home. I will prepare a feast for you as
you wash the blood off your hands. We are the deciders
of who lives and dies, Pete. The others are just meat
between our teeth.”

Vegas thrust a fourth finger inside Pete, sending a slight burn through his hole as it stretched. Pete smiled into his fists, letting saliva coat the back of his hands as he sunk his teeth into them. Pete arched his back and pushed his ass deeper into Vegas’ fingers, desperate for Vegas to be inside him. 

“Your transformation is already complete, my love.”

Pete gripped his fists tighter, the skin gleaming with sweat. His sharp fingernails dug into his palms, leaving red indents. Pete could feel his spine growing out from his back, his vertebrae erupting from his skin and sprawling out, much like the antlers of the stag. Vegas slipped his fingers out, causing Pete to whine and drop to the floor, suddenly empty and cold. But immediately Vegas was lifting Pete up by the antlers growing out his spine and tossing him onto the silk bed, now stained with oil and blood.

“You’re beautiful.”

Pete looked up at Vegas then down at his hands, his nails had grown long, sharp like a falcon’s but the colour of ash. He ran his tongue over his teeth–they had grown sharper, shaved down into fine points by Vegas’ words. Pete had grown into a monster, a living weapon chained to Vegas’ wrist, and Pete had never felt more alive.

“My wonderful beast. Now we are one, you are
just like me.”

“Just like you.”

Pete whispered, mirroring back Vegas’ statement. He and Vegas had become one. Vegas slinked up to the bed and pushed Pete onto his back, the spines tearing into the fine fabric of the sheet. Vegas thrust his mouth at Pete’s, wrapping his tongue around Pete’s and swiping over his fangs, drawing little beads of blood onto his tongue that Pete too could taste. Vegas used his left hand to pin both Pete’s wrists down, while his right held his cock and positioned it against Pete’s lubricated hole. He pushed it in with a swift motion, Pete throwing his head up as Vegas filled him up perfectly, like a key into a lock. He moaned as Vegas slipped his cock out and back in again, hitting his prostate and eliciting a sharp groan from Pete.

“You’re beautiful, Pete–you’re mine.”

“Yours.”

Pete shouted out breathlessly.

“Fuck.”

It was everything Pete needed–he needed it more than oxygen. Vegas’ cock stuffed deep inside him was both a necessity and a desperate want, something Pete would give anything for and that he finally had. Pete took note of the way his and Vegas’s bodies slid together, made slick with sweat, spit and blood. He thought about Vegas seated deep inside his ass, Vegas’ flesh, cum, and blood sitting deep inside his stomach–the atoms of his own body, the pathways of his brain all being Vegas. Vegas kept a comfortable pace, thrusting into Pete not aggressively but lovingly, all the while hitting his prostate again and again, making Pete whine out inhuman sounds. 

“My beast, my corruption, my masterpiece.”

“You corrupted me-”

Pete reaffirmed, gasping in a breath as Vegas thrust into him again before continuing.

“Now you run deep through my bloodstream.
You are the opium injected into my veins,
rewriting the cells of my brain and my very
consciousness. You can never take back the
monster you’ve made me, Vegas.”

“And I never want you to.”

Pete’s final word morphed into a primal scream as his pleasure crested, coming right as Vegas hit once more against his prostate. Hot tears ran down Pete’s cheeks–an overwhelming amount of emotion and love was bubbling up inside of him and spilling out. Vegas, quickly noticing them, darted his tongue to Pete’s face, licking up his salty tears as he continued to thrust into Pete’s ass, melting Pete’s mind entirely into a creature of pure pleasure. Vegas was the incubus that drained him, and Pete wanted his soul sucked dry. As if hearing his wishes, Vegas came inside Pete, his lips against Pete’s, consuming him. Pete could feel the warmth spreading inside his hole, filling him up–Vegas’ seed, his claim on Pete. He owned Pete. He always had. Pete began to laugh, a blissful floaty feeling taking over him as he smiled purely–a smile he’d only discovered within the walls of the castle. Pete looked back at Vegas’, whose cock was still seated snug inside Pete’s body, and he saw reflected back a perfect image of his own smile—not in the sense that their grins were equally wide, nor that they even had physically similar ways of smiling at all—but Pete could see the same shared love. Promise.

Pete slipped free of Vegas’ hold on his wrists–his strength had grown exponentially since Vegas fed him, and reached out to Vegas, gripping his head and pulling him into a kiss. Vegas didn’t even seem taken off guard, he too was filled with a great strength and likely could have kept Pete pinned if he wanted to. Instead, he reached his fingers to touch Pete’s warm cheeks, holding him and dominating the kiss. Vegas slipped his tongue inside, clashing against Pete’s as their saliva tangled together–inseparable. When the two ended the kiss, Pete let his head fall back and his hands move from Vegas’ hair to his neck, stretching out his body for Vegas to see. He slunk his dark fingertips down his neck, and his chest, turning his hand to the side to let only his middle fingernail—sharp as a razor—split open his sacred skin. Blood began to pour out of the cut, yet this only spurred Pete on further, dragging his nail further to his navel and arching his back to open the wound further. Vegas watched in awe, his eyes an even deeper red from the blood shining in them.

Vegas caressed Pete’s waist before bringing his hands to Pete’s tummy, just either side of the wound. He stared into Pete’s eyes, searching them as if forming a map in his mind of every detail of his iris, before he slowly brought his lips down to the wound, slotting his tongue inside as Pete felt a burning hot pain. Vegas dug his face deeper, and Pete realised he could feel Vegas’ skin against his organs. As Vegas kissed and licked lovingly, Pete could hear the wet sound of Vegas’ lips against his stomach and his intestines, as well as the warmth of the blood leaving his quickly paling body. Vegas paused his worship to look up at Pete–Vegas’ hair messy and his mouth and nose stained with blood. Pete had never seen anything more beautiful. Vegas grinned once more and dived back into the cut–this time letting his sharp canines rip up and pull out Pete’s guts, chewing on the intensities like they were the most succulent meat he could ever find. He hooked his tongue under a length of intestine and pulled, pulling higher and higher as the pain too grew, all encompassing until Pete saw his own organ snap easily in front of his eyes. Vegas made it look simple, like tearing a sheet of paper apart. Blood erupted, splattering onto Vegas’ face and Pete’s skin, the tainted silk of the bed. Vegas took some seconds to breathe heavily, just drinking up the sight of Pete–the taste of him.

“I was right.”

With each word he spoke, Pete could see the sharp blood-stained teeth that sat in Vegas’ mouth.

“Delicious. Succulent. Perfect. Made for me.”

Pete found his grin growing even wider as he dug into his own guts, pulling out a handful of intestines and offering them up to Vegas. Vegas kissed them gently, containing his ravenous gaze through closed lids before he opened them and softly gazed at Pete, opening his jaws and sinking his teeth into the organs–the meat. Pete screamed out, gripping desperately into the bedsheets as he watched Vegas work his mouth at Pete’s innards like a man starved. There was something so pure about watching Vegas eat him, in the simple act of feeding on him Vegas was showing him the greatest love he could. That Pete was inside of Vegas, a part of him, just as much as Vegas was of Pete. Vegas sucked on the intestinal tract, filling his mouth with sweet blood before he gently laid it back down on the wound. Vegas took Pete’s wrist and brought it up to his chest, pulling his finger up so the sharp nail rested against his skin. He began to cut himself open using Pete as his blade, exposing his own organs just as red as Pete’s, just as intimately revealed. He ran Pete’s finger down to his navel, grimacing in the burn of the pain.

Pete couldn’t take his eyes off the ropes threatening to spill out from Vegas’ body, exactly like his own, he thought. Vegas grinned at Pete’s wonder, the blood stuck to his teeth now beginning to dry and meld itself to the enamel. He let Pete’s hand fall free, though it just hovered mid-air as if Pete was much too spellbound to even move. In a swift movement, Vegas dug his fingers into his own guts, ripping out his intestine and bringing it to his mouth, where he cut through it savagely with his teeth, blood squirting out. He moved his body on top of Pete’s, their skin and organs squishing together and blood mixing as Vegas lovingly brought the length of his intestine to Pete’s neck, looping it snugly around his throat before tying a knot. Pete suddenly found it easy to move his hand–he needed to, he needed to feel Vegas’ organ wrapped around his throat with his own fingertips. Pete felt relieved when his fingers touched the warm, wet collar that hung proudly around his neck–it was real. It was Vegas. Exposed and raw, tied around Pete’s throat. There was something even more beautiful about this natural collar, too, it came with a leash. Pete was tethered directly to Vegas, the leash being made of Vegas’ very cells and leading directly into his guts. The lovers were bound together entirely.

“My love–I’ll get you a permanent one soon.”

Vegas promised, his voice weak from the loss of blood. Pete beamed, affection rising in what was left of his gut. He wedged a hand between his and Vegas’ bodies, finding the place where their wounds met and digging in, pulling out Vegas’ guts and pushing them into the hollow of his body where his own were supposed to lie, and forcing his own into Vegas’ body. Their bodies, their minds, their souls blended together permanently. A testament to their love. Pete felt the weight of Vegas’ whole body shift as Vegas placed his lips onto Pete’s—not kissing—just breathing into one another. Pete let his eyes flutter softly closed. No pain remained, no–the tempest had cleared now and Pete was safe and warm inside Vegas’ ribcage. Fully satiated, Pete took simple note of Vegas’ heart beating against his own as he drifted into the hold of a dream about a pet and its owner.

Chapter Text

Pete laid sprawled out in the bathtub. He was naked, save for a black leather collar that sat snugly around his neck, although bubbles covered his flesh and lapped the ends of his dripping hair. He let his body sink deeper into the hot embrace of the water, feeling it fill up the crevices of his body and relax his muscles once more. He drifted a hand through the water, clearing the bubbles and admiring the reddened colour the water had turned, before cupping his hand and scooping some up to his face, washing the thin layer of sweat and droplets of blood off his cheeks. His head drifted backwards as he breathed in the smoky scent of candles, sweet jasmine and saffron. The mirror reflected his beauty in all its glory–his satisfaction, full. The hot water began to cool to a reserved warmth, by no means uncomfortable but Pete had learned now, he deserved the best. He craned his head to place a kiss onto the surface of the water, leaving a residue of frothing pink bubbles around his lips which he wiped with the back of his hand. He dove his hand deep into the water to pull out the plug, then gave one final feline stretch before stepping out of the bath and staring at himself in the mirror.

Bruises and marks adorned his body,                                                                                  spots of brown and purple dotting his skin.
His posture was relaxed, as it always                                                                                  was now, and his head held tall and proud.
He admired for the                                                                                                                                       countless time the collar
around his throat–bringing a hand up to feel                                                                    the simple strip of leather as he stared at the
dangling scarlet o ring.                                                                                                                                     It was a tube of glass,
filled with a holy blend                                                                                                                                        of the lovers’ blood,
equal and blended                                                                                                                                            together–inseparable.

Pete smiled and made his way to the dresser, wrapping a black Egyptian cotton towel round him and picking up the fine clothing chosen for him. He ran the towel over his body, clearing the stray droplets of water that still clung to his flesh. He stepped his legs into black silk underwear, the edges lined with an intricate lace, admiring the way the fabric clung to his body perfectly. Next, he slipped on the black trousers that sat just below his belly button, leaving the curve of his hips visible. He lifted the fabric of his shirt over his head–a mesh lace that hung off his shoulders, showing off beautifully the markings on his body. It appeared black at first, but looking closer the lace was a dark indigo swathing his flesh, deep like the midnight sky.

“Beautiful pet.”

The voice rang out in his head. Pete was beautiful. After taking a few more moments just to admire his form, he stepped out of the room and made his way through the house following the path his blood told him–back to his master. As he stepped into the grand dining room he was greeted by a wonderful feast of various side dishes, noodles, fruit, and of course a whole roasted lamb in the centre of the table. Vegas walked up to him, dressed in a gorgeous red shirt, unbuttoned to show off his chest. Pete salivated.

“Honey roasted with wild chilli and lemongrass.”

“Freshly caught.“

Pete added with a smile, which Vegas mirrored.

“Mhm.”

Vegas eyed Pete up and down, staring at his body hungrily and licking his lips. He walked over to Pete and pulled him into a kiss, passionate yet domestic. He pulled away and gave Pete a quick sniff kiss, smelling the sweet scent of bath water on his warm skin, soft and homely, before he took Pete’s wrist and led him to the table, where he pulled out a chair and sat down. Pete immediately sat on Vegas’ lap, melting into his embrace and resting his head against Vegas’ as he pressed a small kiss to Vegas’ hair. Vegas sunk his fingers straight into the body of the animal, pulling out a marbled chunk of meat and placing it into Pete’s lips, Pete opening his mouth right as Vegas’ fingers neared his face–perfectly trained. The meat was succulent and tender, beautifully rich with a slight kick from the chilli. He closed his eyes and made a noise of bliss as he chewed, then swallowed.

“Gorgeous.” 

Vegas picked more meat–each time taking several seconds to decide which section looked the fattiest, the juiciest before picking it up. After a couple more bites Vegas alternated between meat and the side dishes, each served from his own hand, which Pete licked clean after every bite. Vegas grabbed a bottle of wine and sprang out the cork, placing the lip against Pete’s mouth and tilting it up to let him drink, all the while sticking kisses to the side of his neck. Several bites later, Pete gave a noise of contentment signalling he was full, although Vegas’ stuffed one more thing into him–a single red grape pushed through his lips that burst sweetness over his tongue as he bit down. Once Pete had finished, he blissfully slinked down underneath the table and began working his teeth over the buttons of Vegas’ trousers. Once he’d opened Vegas’ pants, Pete pushed his underwear down and hurriedly shoved Vegas’ cock straight into his mouth, not sucking, only keeping it warm. They had quickly settled into this routine–Vegas hand-fed Pete the most tender meat and food, then once he was finished, Pete slipped down and got to hold his master’s cock in his mouth while he ate. It was a gift to be able to hold the most intimate part of his owner safe in his mouth while he fed–Pete could hear the scratching sound of a knife and fork against plate all the while saliva pooled down his chin and onto his thighs. It didn’t take Vegas long before he was pushing away from the table and turning his attention to Pete, who stared up at him with huge submissive eyes–desperate to please, to sin.

“Good boy.”

Vegas praised, petting Pete’s head then wiping away the drool on his chin with his thumb.

“My dearest pet.”

Vegas held Pete’s chin and bent down to pull him into a kiss, then hooked his thumb onto the ring of the collar to pull Pete up, the blood inside swirling and moving. He scooped Pete up into his arms and carried him out of the room, taking him through a winding path to their master bedroom. He placed him down in bed and planted a kiss on his forehead, before tucking the covers over Pete and climbing in.

“What corrupted desires lie in that head of yours
tonight, pet?”

Vegas caressed the side of Pete’s face as he stared up at Vegas, his eyes warm and welcoming.

“Let’s see, my God.”