Page 45 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

Red.

RED.

“You are devastating, so much strength.” He kisses my shoulder before placing a bite on it. The skin breaks. Not deep, just enough to remind me I still have a body.

The tethers to my sanity snap,leaving only carnal hunger. The scalpel falls from my hand as I turn to Ren, the weight of it vanishing like it never mattered, like I traded in my last tool for instinct.

Smashing my head into his, causing him to fall on his ass, he smiles welcoming the challenge. The violence. The carnage. The invitation.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Take.” As if I needed permission.

I wedge my body between his legs. He still has clothes on, too much for what I need. They cling to him like lies. I want him bare. Raw. I want himreal.

Grabbing him by the neck, and pulling him towards me, I command, “Off.”

Ren gives me a devilish grin. Releasing my grip on his neck, I rip off his shirt while he works on his pants. His breath shudders—somewhere between anticipation and worship. I will bury my shame in his ass. My hand grabs a fistful of his onyx strands, and I crashmy lips into his, causing both of us to moan into each other’s mouths while our tongues dance for dominance. Volcano meeting tornado. Wildness with no intention of mercy.

My free hand moves lower to where the blood is pooled, and I dip my hand into it, coating it with the wet, sticky substance. Pulling back from him, I paint him red. A crown of carnage. A lover’s mask. He is mine now. Branded.

“Beautiful.” I groan before kissing him again, consuming him. He bites down on my lips until he breaks the skin, and the taste of iron fills my mouth. I moan against him—feral, starving, sick with need.

We don’t talk, we just move in sync, our hunger consuming us both. Two beasts in borrowed flesh.

Pressing him into the ground, I take the lead showing him what he should have been shown—love. But not the soft kind. The kind that splits skin. That leaves marks. That says I was here.

Showinghim what it’s like to truly want someone, even if it’s an act of mercy. Even a death row killer gets his last meal, and we will be each others.

Each others’ end.

Each others‘ altar.

I swallow his moans with my mouth as my hand moves between us, and I pull away, peppering kisses along his jaw, and down his neck and chest, then all the way down to his thighs where I place his long, thick cock into my mouth, taking it as far back as I can. My throat burns, but I don’t stop. His taste is heat and salt and violence.

Ren arches off the ground, pressing deeper into my mouth, his hand fisting my curls as he pulls my head up to look at me. His eyes shimmer, wide and wet, almost reverent. Like he’s looking at his god.

“Beautiful.”

Moving from his cock, I use both of my hands to push his legs up, and start licking his tight hole as I work my free hand down my shaft, mixing my arousal with some spit from my lappings to his ass. His muscles twitch beneath my tongue, a tremble that betrays how muchhe wants this. Or needs it. Or maybe he doesn’t know the difference anymore. Neither do I.

Ren moans, and as much as I hate to, I hum in approval of his arousal. His moan isn’t loud. It’s strained, like he’s holding something back—fear, maybe. Or something softer. Something he would never admit.

“I’m going to split you open.” I groan against him. “Do your worst.”

My blood hums from the heat, the need, and the sickness as I stand, lining up my cock with his tight entrance, and using my other hand I tug on his hair to make him watch as someone takes him. I want him to see. I want him to remember. This is what I look like when I break.

“I see you,.” I say, catching him off guard, his eyes shimmer just as I begin to push in, his body reacts, jumping to break free from me, but I wasn’t lying when I said I will split him apart. He gasps, wide-eyed—not from the stretch, but from being seen. Truly seen.

The sun begins to rise, and the room is filthy with blood and sin. Golden light crawls across the red-stained floor like it’s trying to cleanse somethingit never could.

I flatten out my hand on his chest, forcing him still... forcing him to accept me. I don’t ask. I take. Because asking would make this real.

We both groan as my head enters him, and I almost cum right then and there. I have to stop and catch my breath, but when I look at him, I feel hate, devotion, disgust and need. Everything I’ve never said, everything I’ve buried, lives in that single glance.

Pushing in further, he squirms as I watch his greedy asshole begin to take me in. “Fuck, Ren.” I bite into the flesh of his legs as I bring him closer to me, making each painful thrust harder and deeper. The pain makes it real. The blood makes it ours.

I feel the wetness and smell the iron of the blood coating my dick, and I smile. Looking to where we connect, I pick up my pace as I finally see emotions in those voids. Pain. Lust. Something akin to worship.

I fuck Ren with passion, with hatred until I can’t tell the difference between where one begins and the other ends. His name is a prayer I spit out through clenched teeth.

---