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A Cowboy's Pet	By : Th3_Wick3d_Mus3 Category: +. to F > Black Cat Views: 1556 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fanfiction which I recieve no payment from. Black Cat and all of it's canon characters, the world, and it's story do not belong to me.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Chapter 3 ~ This one contains some dirty sex, and as always, read and review!

The Westerner led his pet down the halls, eventually making their way back to the large throne room that Blood had woken up in initially. Everyone had gathered in this room, which hadn't surprised Durham. Tomorrow was the day, or so the pale man had claimed. The day they attack and kill everyone in their wake. The day they start a war. The thought made him smile behind his mask, though the curious glances the others sent towards the stripper made the cowboy uneasy. Like their gazes were unspoken threats to take the tanned teen away from the older man the second his back was turned... The gunman tugged harshly on the bandana tied to the little whore's belt, hard enough to make him crash and clutch to his side to keep from falling face first onto the stone floor. The little gasp the teen let out when he fell into his body sent a dark surge through him, and the panicked hands grabbing wildly at him nearly made him shudder. He didn't miss the flicker of rage that flashed in Creed's eyes at the contact, though he didn't approve of the half-hearted kick to his leg from the newest Apostle.
When he turned his hawk-like eyes down on the stripper, they met narrowed brown orbs that accented a rather petulant and angry pout. There was a thought to hit the boy for that defiant kick and annoyed look, but then Creed began a long speech about how it was finally time, Chronos would be brought to it's knees, how this would kick off an inevitable showdown and... And Durham didn't really care enough to listen. He hadn't joined them for a new world or a revolution really, just for power and bodies to burn. So far all of their moves had been under the radar and avoided any true conflict, something that had started to drum on the male's nerves. Now things were beginning, that was all that mattered. The gunman temporarily took his half-attention off of Creed to give a sideways glance to his whore, who seemed to be struggling to hold back a yawn as he looked around the room and its occupants. Suddenly he had an urge to impress the bored male, and would make sure to put on a good show with his power when the time came. He chuckled to himself then, eyes going back to their leader as he went over their plan and the signal to begin. His power always made a bang and got attention, he found himself wanting Blood to be in awe of what he could do more than anyone else. Unconsciously the older male pulled the young stripper closer until he was flush against his side and could feel the boy's body heat.
Blood was beginning to get exhausted with Durham, though he said nothing as he was becoming equally exhilarated with him. Being pulled and jerked along like a rag doll, ignored yet pulled closer, it was a constant tug of war in his mind over whether he was glad or outraged that the cowboy had taken him. Being so close to the male put more of those questions to rest and he focused instead on what he felt with him, not what was right or wrong or dangerous. The gunman felt warm, almost hot, against his nearly bare torso, only protected by thin bandages and a wrap around his shoulders nearly as negligible. It made the teen shift uncomfortably before pressing his groin against the side of the cowboy's hip. Still warm, so warm, it made him shudder involuntarily before a lazy purr started up in the back of his throat. Brown/gold/orange eyes glazed in lewd comfort as his pupils slowly narrowed into cat slits, purr growing louder as he nuzzled the taller male's shoulder and buried his nose into the coat to take in the man's scent. He'd never inhaled an aroma so arousing and intoxicating, and he wanted more, so much more, of that smell. Blood felt secure, content. Not loved or deeply cared for or even safe really, but he knew the gunman wouldn't let someone else touch him, even if he didn't himself, even if he tore him limb from limb. He was only Durham's to tear.
So he let his eyes wander as he molded his body into the taller man's side, a bit disappointed that the male's arm didn't go around him and instead just hung limply down his back and side. Still, the heavy weight of the unmoving limb gave an added sense of belonging as his new eyes roved over the other Apostles. He wasn't completely sure whatever his 'power' was really, but Blood liked it. It was primal and heightened, like he really was a predatory cat. The tanned teen had always like cats. Everyone he'd seen that first day was here, and everyone seemed to hang onto the lavender eyed male's every word. The stripper still wasn't happy with Creed, and it was hard for him to wrap his brain around why someone like that was their leader... Was everyone else here so weak willed? Or did this go back to power? Was the pale male actually the strongest of them, had some amazing ability that automatically put him in command? The cat-like whore turned his eyes up to the cowboy, just to drink in his dark form, though his lips turned up in a childish grin when he saw that the man was probably even more bored with the speech than he was. He looked angry, petulant, and miserable, like hearing the admittedly soft and fluid voice of the other would kill him if it went on much longer. The newest Apostle couldn't hold back a small chuckle at the sight, still smiling coyly as he saw those formerly exhausted eyes narrow into their usual angry slits without turning his gaze from their leader.
Leader.
It was a strange thought, to be expected to answer to someone other than Durham, or see the cowboy answer to someone else. When the Western man had pinned him, threatened him, no one had stopped him. No one so much as moved or opened their mouths. Where was the pale man's leadership then? There was a faint flicker of thought, a line of thinking that voiced that the gunman should be the leader. He was the alpha after all. It was quickly dismissed by the more logical side of Blood, not completely gone as he had only entered a semi-Tao trance state. Before it had been triggered by deep hurt, outrage, and feeling nothing but anger, now he was feeling warm and owned. It was a comfortable feeling, not one that required fighting. Now he could think properly as well as enjoy the primal senses, though it was the thinking that tore asunder any thoughts of Durham being in charge. Anyone with half a brain could see that the Westerner didn't care about others, asking him to lead a group would be akin to asking a lion to care for house kittens. Same family, somewhat; would they kill each other, maybe not; would he care and baby the weaklings stumbling behind him? It was completely out of the question. The only thing that both sides agreed on was a complete lack of understanding just why the gunman was even in this little club. Despite not knowing what the man's power was, he felt certain that his alpha's was the strongest... He wanted to see what the older male could do, he needed to know—
"...That is our plan." The newcomer blinked, realizing he'd blanked out on absolutely everything his kidnapper had said to him as he was lost in his own thoughts and the scorching warmth of the other body. For most it would be mortifying, but Blood had never drowned in pride to the point of fearing embarrassing himself to find out what he was missing.
"Uh, what would be whose plan, exactly?" The tone he'd spoken in wasn't attentive, apologetic, or uncertain. He hadn't even bothered to look at the man, smiling faintly with half-lidded eyes as he rubbed his nose over the cowboy's coat along his chest. The stripper couldn't get enough of that smell, running his hands across the taller man's chest and back simultaneously before lacing his fingers together along his side. He ignored the flustered cough of the woman while he slid his entwined hands down to rest on the gunman's hip, he even ignored the way the body tensed in repulsion at the touches to him, obviously uncomfortable. The thought that he was making Durham uneasy made him smile, absently wondering why the male wasn't simply shaking him off like he usually did whenever he bothered his captor.
The reason Durham wasn't doing so was simple: He liked seeing Creed so pissed off. While it was true that the touches and sniffs and general affection made his stomach turn with repulsion, particularly from a male, seeing this so-called 'leader' glaring and tense was well worth it. Anything to get under another's skin, even if it meant digging into his own, though he had to note that there was a growing urge to educate his teen tramp about how little he cared for public affections. Still, he ignored it for the moment when he saw the pale man walking towards them.
"Blood, if you're going to be one of us, you have to learn how to pay attention," the lavender eyed male chided lightly while a smile graced his lips, "I know things like this must bore you to tears, but it's important for a leader to know what he needs to do." Both the master and pet seemed confused, if not irritated, by their leader's words. The younger male's brows knit together as he tried to figure out what this strange man was all about, smiling almost sweetly while talking to him like you would a misbehaving child or puppy. Beyond that was the strange word choice, almost like he wanted to groom him into becoming an important role in this merry little band of super powered misfits. It made him uneasy, but... Curious. He may have an alpha, but power was always a welcome thing in his world. He'd been thrown away for and because of it many times.
The elder was equally confused, though much, much more offended. He hated the tone and words the other male used to address his pet, soft, comforting, and worst of all, knowing. That really tore on his nerves, how Creed acted like he knew Blood so much better than Durham did. Honestly it shouldn't have surprised the gunman that their leader would think so as he always watched and followed Apostle hopefuls much like your run of the mill stalker or serial killer, as you needed to know who you may be giving so much power to. Creed did know the stripper, his job, his home, his habits, but Durham knew him better without knowing all of those things. The cowboy knew the young tart inside and out, both literally and figuratively. He'd torn inside him every way you could think of, knew his darkest fantasies, kinks, what sick things he loathed, liked, and loved. He owned him.
Though a glance at Blood showed beautiful and curious eyes locked onto the pale man after his words, in fact the whore's arms fell from around the gunman as he turned his body more towards their 'leader'. That irked Durham more than anything Creed could have said, the fact that Blood had allowed his attention to waver from the cowboy to the rose obsessed swordsman... The older man growled from deep in his throat as his eyes narrowed under his hat, the arm that had until this point been limp over the young body shifting so that his hand could grab onto those bright locks and suddenly yank his head back with a startling pop before the male could walk towards Creed like he had started. Everyone jumped at attention at the sickening sound, afraid that the newest member might have had his neck broken from the harsh pull... Everyone, that is, except the Doctor, who knew Blood's body and Durham's control well enough after more than a week of mending the teen after each nightly, and daily, bout. It would take more than such an exaggerated pull to truly break him. Still, even he had been surprised at the gunman's sudden act of hostility towards his toy.
Blood, however, was much more surprised, and angrier than any of the others by at least tenfold as he grabbed the wrist of the offending hand before swinging one leg up in a shockingly swift motion to attack the offender. Durham brought up his free arm to block the blind kick and grabbed his ankle, continuing his downward pull on the male's hair, causing his neck to bend nearly flat to his back before his spine continued the curve. To ensure that the sunset haired male didn't attack him further, he gave a small kick to the back of the only leg able to support the boy. Sure enough, his knee buckled and gave way as gravity dragged him towards the ground. Blood was only held up by the cowboy's hold on his hair and ankle, closing his eyes and raising his arms up to defend his face as he knew what would happen next. As expected, the cowboy let go of him to let his toy crash into the hard floor. The newest Apostle didn't relish the pain that was to come, given how he'd never been keen on having marks or injuries to his face, but... But... Gravity seemed to be on vacation at the moment because he never hit the ground, suddenly feeling a strangely wet yet warm feeling around him that gave a great deal of comfort. What on earth was...?
Curious, the male opened his eyes slightly to see what it was, though the orbs shot open when he realized that he was being held aloft by what he of all people would recognize...blood. Suddenly the blood pulled him down a long red line towards the source, the strange man with the impossibly high top hat from the day before. There was an instinct to fight this sensation and escape the deluge of blood, so he kicked and writhed as he made the journey closer to the blonde. Once the distance had been eliminated, Charden recalled his blood to his body, absorbing the excess he had created as it entered his system. Blood, no longer held aloft, gasped as his liquid transportation was pulled out from under him and he began to fall a second time. Unlike with the cowboy, however, the tall blonde was quite willing to catch the boy in his arms, glancing down at him with his usual smile and obscured eyes. Blood blinked as he looked up at the male, not quite sure how to react as he was being held princess style by a dark clothed stranger who just dragged him away from his punishment with his own blood. Still in his semi-feline state, the male took a small whiff of the male holding him stoically. He smelt of blood, so, so much blood, so much so that he couldn't find another scent on him. And not for a lack of trying, Blood pressed his nose into the coat of the blonde to find another scent, something that was him and not the blood beneath his skin. Of course due to Charden's frequently used power, it was to no avail.
The others gave curious stares to the pair, not sure how to react to Blood's, well, reaction, but they all did in their own ways. Charden himself was the embodiment of impassiveness, facing forward towards Durham but beneath his tinted lenses he was watching the tanned teen in his arms. Was... Was he...sniffing him? Yes, yes he was. This was...strange. Though he was in no way new to strange teenagers. “Wow Charden you saved him! That was great! Is he okay?” The girl, Kyoko, bounded up to them, looking the male over to see if he was indeed alright. Sensing intrusion, the recently kidnapped teen curled up more in the blonde's arms, still sniffing and faintly... Purring? Yes, no denying the distinct sound of a cat's pleasure, though when the overly excited/concerned girl touched his arm he let out a hiss, sending her reeling back and falling onto her bottom. “Hey, he hissed at me!” The girl pouted, earning a chastising chuckle from the blonde as the teen went back to purring and his...sniffing...
“You just startled him is all, Kyoko,” a slight pause as Charden regarded the cowboy, who was eerily still. He wasn't even sure if the man was breathing. “He was just attacked, if you remember.” The body he was watching stiffened, the only indication he was a person and not a statue. Interesting. Looking at the male's clutched hands, he was furious, but wasn't fighting or saying anything. It...unnerved the blood wielder to a degree, it was in direct opposition to Durham's nature to hold anything back no matter how dangerous or trivial. Why start now? The blonde glanced down at the purring male he was holding. It wasn't as if he and Durham were a loving relationship, or even a pleasant one if he was to judge by appearances, but it was clear the man was jealous over someone else holding the quasi-feline. Perhaps his uncertainty of his own feelings, and being unable to claim him without looking 'weak' or 'soft' as he often accused others, was why he remained motionless. Very interesting. His red lenses flashed as he smiled slightly, it wasn't taunting or joyful, just a thin line of understanding. He may not be as dangerous and volatile as Shiki feared, but Blood having such a strong effect on their wildest and most violent member could indeed spell all sorts of trouble. Funny though, how calm and benign he seemed in his arms, not unlike Kyoko whenever she ate one of her gelatin popsicles.
Then the cat looked up, and blinked several times, then narrowed his eyes before sitting up in his arms to scrutinize him more closely. The blonde had no idea what was going through the male's mind, tuning out the voice of Shiki as he, Creed, and the Doctor, turned the others' attention to minor details of the plan that they had already gone over a dozen times. Kyoko watched them with excited interest, Durham with hatred, and the others gave curious glances when they thought it wouldn't be noticed. The blonde tried to catch everything around them, but was keeping most of his attention on the assessing stare the teen was drilling him with. “...You smell like blood.” A long pause, followed by a smile as the male leaned forward and licked his cheek. The blonde didn't react in the slightest, he merely held his thin smile and the other's stare. “You taste like it too. That and...Salt.” The feline tilted his head and laughed, giving a smile as bright and naively innocent as the blood wielder's default partner. Charden couldn't help but return the smile with a genuine one of his own. If the fire breather and this boy were similar, it wouldn't be hard for Charden to accept the role of caretaker Shiki was hoping he would take.
“It's because of my power. You'll see tomorrow, along with everyone else's.” He replied enigmatically, not wanting to get into an explanation of his and the others' powers when the newest member would just see for himself tomorrow. The teen perked a little at that, eyes wide as he glanced to the cowboy with a questioning look before looking back to the blonde, who had to chuckle. “Yes, his too.” He let the male stand at this point as Blood seemed more stable, and was only half surprised when he immediately bounded over to his recent attacker. Kyoko gaped, pointing and giving her fellow teen Apostle an appalled look before turning to her partner, who merely smiled back. “Everyone here has a favored partner, there's no explaining it.” He then moved to the rest of the group, reflecting on his statement. It was true enough, Kyoko was always with him, Echidna with Creed, Shiki with Doctor, and oddly enough, Leon had taken a shine to Maro, frequently pairing with the easterner. Until that point, Durham had been the loner and frequently took solo missions as he never had a 'companion' as the rest of them somewhat did.
That is, until now, and Charden was curious as to how this partnership between Durham Glaster, the loner and violence hungry gunman, and Blood Moore, the playful and defiant quasi-feline stripper, would play out.
Blood nearly ran back to Durham, all memory of the attack pushed aside after his curious discovery of the wonderful blood scent the blond man with the ridiculous top hat emitted. He was a looker and interesting, the feline male decided he liked him very much, but not like the cowboy. When he reached the older man, he hooked his arms under the other's own for a tight hug, rubbing his cheek against his chest with closed eyes and a happy purr. It was easy to ignore everything with the taller male, even how he didn't react to such things in a caring way. Though, it was hard to ignore how tense and stiff the body was in the hug. So...passive. No words, no returning the hug, no hitting or throwing him off, nothing. Looking up at the cowboy, he saw the male wasn't even looking at him, was just glaring elsewhere. Sensing his cat-like Tao fading, as his control was shaky at this point, he took a whiff to find out what he was feeling.
Immediately the scent of rage hit his system, followed quickly by the near constant lust it overshadowed. Though there was another scent there, one he hadn't smelled from Durham before. It wasn't quite like being hurt, it was somehow still angry even though it was clearly an emotionally upset feeling. What was that about? An almost pouty emotion he couldn't quite put his nose on... But before he could sniff it out more his power subsided, though he wasn't upset to inhale the man's natural musky scent. Blood's pupils returned to normal, his eyes unglazed, but the cowboy was still looking off without acknowledging him. “...Durham...?” The stripper prompted as he rose himself up on his toes to nudge the bottom of the mask with his nose to try and get the man to look at him and not whatever else it was that took his attention from Blood. He was the supposed to be the center of the cowboy's glares and rages, not whoever it was he was... What was he...Who was it...
Blood followed his gaze as his nudge was overlooked like everything else, to see he was staring at the blonde, Charden he thought his name was. The teen turned his gaze back to the towering form ignoring him, things clicking into place. He knew that scent now. “Durham?” He asked again, a bit of humor in his voice, as he leaned up again, though this time licked the male's neck now that it was unguarded by the bandana that Blood still had wrapped around his own belt. The taste made him shudder, he tasted so much better than he smelled, better than everything. “Mm, heh,” he chuckled as he slid his hands up the other's back, slightly toying with the longer black hair before licking his neck again. “You taste even better than the blonde.” He purred the words out soothingly, hoping to appease the male somewhat as he traced circles on his back and licked again. He heard Durham release a deep growl from the back of his throat, and he knew he'd succeeded in getting his attention. Whether it was for better or worse, he wasn't sure. He was never sure of the cowboy, he doubted anyone was.
“Blood,” Durham's voice rasped deeply in his mask as he roughly seized the smaller male's upper arms. The teen was certain it was a bruising hold and winced, but it was worth it to see the male finally look at him. Even if it was with hate. He did look as furious as he had smelled, normally narrow eyes widened in a wild glare as his brow furrowed. There was even a muscle in his neck twitching madly, and the already painful grip on him tightened as the cowboy paused, trying to find words for what he was feeling. He shook the body in his grip when he couldn't, then seemed to try again.
For the gunman, this had been a maddening experience. He'd had to use every ounce of control he had not to shoot Charden where he was standing when Blood fell into his arms. The only reason he hadn't was he didn't want to kill the tanned teen. No, he didn't want to kill Blood. Hurt him, ridicule him, rape him, yes, but not kill. And if he changed his mind and did want to kill him, it would be on his terms, not because someone else got him mad and he blew a gasket as he normally did. It was...strange...to hold back because of someone else. It was hard to justify it no matter how much sick pleasure he could get from the boy, because whenever he thought to do something, he did it, no matter what... Though he supposed he could always kill Charden another day, preferably one where his tag along was absent. The idea of someone touching his whore, smiling at him and talking... It was infuriating. It only got worse when Blood smiled back, talked, sniffed, and... Licked. That made him see red and it took everything in him to keep from shouting and screaming and attack them both. He held back because he wasn't sure why he wanted to act out so strongly, lethally, over the contact. The cowboy had never cared about when his past women slept with other men, they were just flings. Well, not usually consensual, but none of them mattered even if they thought they did. But Blood was different. Blood was his, wasn't just a bed mate, but a possession. Like his gun, something of his he would kill over in a heartbeat even if he never used it again.
The fact that he was a human being didn't even register to the cowboy anymore. Blood was just a thing now, one of his things.
When Blood came back to him, the gunman had felt such a rush. It was the first time in his life he'd tortured someone so thoroughly, degraded them all he could, and then had them running back happily knowing they would have to endure more. Much more. Even with the elation, however, he'd still been angry beyond description. Durham refused to look at his pet, just glaring at the blonde as he went to join the others with Kyoko, leaving only himself and Blood on their own apart from the group. The smaller male had hugged him, which felt... Nice. He liked the contact, the sniffs and the rubbing of his face against his chest. The stripper really was more like a pet than a person. Still, it gave him mixed feelings as he'd never been a fan over gentle touches. Even long ago before he became a murderer, people had given him a wide berth because of how violently he could react to unwanted physical contact, even childhood girlfriends had been afraid of him. Hence why he'd never had any for a long time. Yet as much as he was disgusted with the touches, he didn't want them to stop. Then the male licked him.
Then the male compared him to Charden.
Even if it was a favorable comparison, it got him on a whole new level of riled, even more than he was before. He grabbed his pet then, squeezing hard enough to put bruises even on the golden tanned skin. Once Durham had him, however, he had no idea what to say. So he shook him and thought more. It did little to help, he had a thousand thoughts flooding his mind, but not one he would dare vocalize. He wasn't going to give Blood the wrong idea, like he cared, he wasn't going to appear weak to him or any of the other Apostles talking amongst themselves about tomorrow. That left him at a loss for words, and he just stood there as his growl grew louder and his grip grew tighter. Blood chuckled and smiled up at him, which only made him angrier, though it didn't deter the sunset haired male. “...What the hell're you laughin' at, whore?” He barked at his pet as he gave him a good shake, which only inspired more laughing.
“You're jealous!” The teen said with a scandalized grin on his face. He leaned up and licked his neck again and shuddered. “You're jealous over me.” Blood purred out with no small amount of satisfaction, and it made the cowboy's eyebrow twitch in response. It wasn't that the words weren't correct, they were just correct in a different way than the younger male thought. He would have to fix that.
“Blood,” the gunman said again in a tone that reflected his regained control, perhaps from putting a word to this strange emotion? He didn't know, but was glad that his voice wasn't a give away to his turmoil any longer. “I am jealous. Jealous over you as I would be my gun, my mask. You belong to me.” He growled out, one hand sliding from the male's arm to his chin and grabbing it in the same bruising hold before forcing the male's head back. “You are my pet. My toy. My whore. I will not tolerate anyone else touchin' you like that ever again. I will kill them.” A short pause as Durham regarded the male, knowing that killing whoever touched Blood wouldn't do anything to stop him. He didn't know why, but he did know that the stripper would touch everyone in sight to get a rise out of the cowboy. He'd need a punishment that would actually deter the cat like male, but what? The gunman's eyes narrowed back to normal hawk like slits and he smirked beneath his mask as he realized one way to ensure the stuck up, prideful little tart would keep his wagging tongue to himself.
“...But not before I break that pretty face o' yours for disobeyin'.” Durham chuckled darkly when he saw that wide eyed, fearful look cross the male's admittedly beautiful features. Fear was so much better when it was willingly endured. And it was endured, as the male meekly nodded up at the face hovering so close to his own. And it was willingly done, as the stripper leaned up before apologetically snaked his tongue out to lick the mask a few times. It made the cowboy smile, and press the mask against the other's lips in a mock kiss as a small reward for the stripper. It was taken gladly, the smaller male kissed back in an excited fervor. He even licked and sucked on the metal before pulling away with a bright and cheery smile, showing off those pointed teeth and shining eyes. It made him seem younger than he was, which made Durham intensely uncomfortable as he was already a decade his senior. Honestly he'd never gone for someone so much younger than himself before, even for rape. One of many things that made Blood different than all of his past conquests.
“Come on, whore.” He let go of the male completely before moving to finally join the others, though his hand caught and tugged him along with his bandana. No more wandering around for his pet. Blood followed without a fuss, humming happily to himself as they stood with the others in the circle. Again the stripper ignored every word of the plan, while Durham listened with a face that spoke volumes about how little he cared for their voices. Though this time everyone was giving little glances at the humming teen clutching and rubbing his cheek against the gunman's arm as the taller male's hand held onto the bandana tied around his belt. “You done yet? I'm tired o' watchin' all o' y'all stealin' glances o' my pet.” His hawk like eyes focused on their leader, though they shifted to the blonde. If he could poison the blood wielder with his eyes, he would. He'd rather he die slowly anyway. The blonde only smiled back, though his own teenage companion sent him a nasty look.
“...Yes, we're done. We'll be heading out in the morning as planned.” Shiki was the one to speak up, as usual. Always the peacekeeper. “You and Blood may go.” The bandaged easterner gave the scowling Creed a pointed look, and as usual lately, he went stomping off into another room with Echidna following him closely, though the Doctor trailed after them at his own pace this time. Durham's eyes glanced to Charden, then back to Shiki with a scoff.
“I don't need your permission.” He then turned abruptly, eliciting a startled gasp from his charge as he was roughly bumped into as the older man strode past him. He let go of the bandana at this point. Durham knew he had control of Blood in every way that counted. “Come on, stripper. Time for bed.” He sent a cruel glance back towards the tanned teen, green eyes gleaming with a malicious promise of pain if the male did follow. Then he simply walked on, not bothering to check and see if Blood did come with him. He knew he would obey. There wasn't a question of who he belonged to now.
Blood, for his own part, suddenly grew incredibly nervous at the cowboy's parting words. Bed. He knew the two wouldn't be sleeping, as did everyone else who heard what he said. The looks on their faces had been obvious, though oddly only the teen girl made an overly exaggerated face of disgust, complete with gagging at the thought of the cowboy with someone her own age. The boy was the other who'd reacted, merely shaking his head and rolling his eyes. He knew that look from when he was younger himself, it was a passive way of letting adults know that he understood exactly what was going to happen even when they thought he wouldn't. The sarcastic undertone of the physical motion was obvious. It made the teen's lips spread into a toothy grin at him before taking off after the tall westerner who was quickly leaving him behind. When he caught up with him, he stuck close enough to his back to bump into him every time they had to turn.
The trip back was intense for Blood, full of anticipation. Knowing that he'd been touched by Durham in the past and knowing it would happen in the near future were two vastly different things... It wasn't like he didn't want it, but there was fear there. His mind flashed back to when he woke up, body aching, stiff, covered in blood and wounds... Just exactly how much of the sex was actually sex and not mutilation in disguise? Would it be even worse when he was awake? Would his own instincts kick in and trigger him to fight the taller man? The teen glanced up the back of the gunman, suddenly feeling small. He hadn't really thought about how much shorter and thinner in frame he was compared to the westerner. He might as well be trying to keep an ox from mounting him for all the good it would do. In his brief time being awake, there were already several times that the man had overpowered him just for the sake of hurting him, let alone getting the sex he'd apparently become accustomed to. Maybe... Maybe this wasn't such a great idea... Then they arrived at the door, the only new one amongst all the old, and Durham walked in without a thought. Blood stood hovering just outside the open door, thoughts still bouncing around inside his head. Consciously he wanted to go, wanted to feel the pain and pleasure he was sure he could find with the stronger male. But a deeper part, more primitive, feral, and in it's own way smarter than the conscious Blood, said to stay out. More than that, it said to run. That going in would be the end of something. Whether it was his body, life, sanity, he had no idea. It just knew something would die in that room.
Inside the room, Durham glanced up to see the male hesitating at the doorway. Fear and anger welled up inside him when he saw that contemplative look, like Blood was going to bolt any second. The cowboy pushed it down since the male wasn't actually leaving, which meant he wasn't sure what to do. Simple enough to entice a whore after constantly being bombarded by compliments and come ons, though he refused to beg. The gunman turned to face the male completely, shrugging off his coat before casually tossing it onto the same chair from earlier. The older man took his hat off with as little care, tossing it to the side before he pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the same chair. All the while, he maintained his eye contact with the teen, though he was pleased to note Blood's eyes dropped immediately when his hands when to his belts. It made the male smirk beneath the metal covering the lower half of his face as he undid the buckles and his pants, though he stopped short of dropping them. Slowly, the tanned male's eyes rose up, looking over the older man's stronger form. It made Durham feel more powerful. More in control. Then finally those strange, golden flecked puppy brown eyes landed on his own unforgiving emerald orbs, cementing the control he felt. He held the other's gaze as he lifted a hand, curling a finger towards himself silently. The westerner saw the male shift his weight on his feet, still hesitating. That didn't sit well with Durham, but he felt inside that shouting right now wasn't the thing to do. A calm approach, at least, until the other was inside and the door locked tight. Blood could still run, and he was in no mood to give chase. He motioned his finger again before moving his hand back down to his pants, chuckling softly.
“Come here, Blood. Obey.” The words were spoken softly, though there wasn't any kindness to his voice. Just a calm confidence that violence and a raised voice wasn't necessary. Well, not yet. His eyes flashed cruelly just for a moment, but Blood caught it. Glancing down to the hands holding the other male's pants, suddenly he didn't really care. The last word he'd said stirred up his Tao, and the more bestial part of him was wary, but also excited and hungry, in an unbearable way. With a strained, mewling groan, he walked into the room against his better instincts. He closed and locked the door behind him, leaning against the cold metal in a bracing way. It was almost as if he was surprised he'd actually done that. The cowboy chuckled, lifting his chin in an indignant fashion as he relaxed his posture now that he had Blood safely in his clutches. The cat had listened. “Good boy, Blood,” he both praised and sneered at the tanned teen before pointing down at his pants.
“Now come here and help me get these off.” He could see the younger body shudder, then tremble as he slowly pulled himself off of the comforting metal of the door and wander deeper into the room. Into Durham's domain. Away from safety. He took a couple steps before the westerner in question, and control, clicked his tongue to get him to stop. “On your hands and knees. Crawl, like a good pet.” Blood's hesitation was waning as his more feline compulsions grew, and he again obeyed, though this time without pause. He dropped to his knees, then hands, and then made his way to the cowboy like he'd prompted. The gunman laughed darkly at the demeaned teen as he cautiously made his way closer with a look of desperation slowly growing over his cute face. Durham enjoyed the feeling of total domination over their newest Apostle, liked having him subject to his whims. Ordering and having him obey without question, even if he did pause and seem unwilling at times. He could fix that. Blood knelt at his feet, looking up at him with wide and curious eyes, resting his slightly bruised chin on top of his thigh as he waited for the older male's next order. That pleased the cowboy.
“There's my little whore. Very good,” he complimented as he pet the male, fingers running through that soft hair. The teen closed his strange eyes with a small smile, purring and pressing his head into the larger man's hand. “Now, pet, about these pants...” The older man chuckled deviously, lifting an eyebrow as he regarded the teen stripper kneeling at his feet. He really didn't think he'd need to tell Blood where to go from there. Blood's eyes, now with thin cat slit pupils and glazed with the same lust he could smell from his Alpha looked up at the taller man, not needing any further explanation. He knew what the gunman wanted. He planned on giving it to him, whatever the consequences.
Slowly, the tanned teen's hands slid up to grasp his pants to pull down, but Durham's hands grabbed his own. The feline male looked up to express his confusion, not sure why he was stopped after that was clearly what the older man wanted. The cowboy chuckled before he pressed a palm against his cheek, gently rubbing his thumb against his skin while he laughed at his pet's thwarted eagerness. He could never get over how soft and smooth the male's skin was, no matter how many times he tore into it. How easy it was to make that face flush full of embarrassed excitement no matter how much blood he cut out of him. How warm it stayed no matter how close he came to death. It was the perfect body to mutilate again...and again...and again...and again. Though tonight would be special, it would be the first time Blood was awake for his ministrations. The first time he consciously begged for more.
The tanned teen shuddered at how cool and hard the other's hand was, how rough the skin felt against his own. It was almost like stone, or sandpaper, going over his skin. Uncomfortable but definitely pleasurable, unique. He'd never shuddered so from such simple touches like he did from the large hand holding his face, thumb scraping against his skin and occasionally sliding down far enough to irritate his recent bruise. “Ahh...” He whined at the painful contact, arching his back and tilting his head as more color rushed to his cheeks. The cat-like teen truly felt like a pet, completely at his owner's mercy as he was ordered around and pet like an animal instead of a lover. It was nice to be touched by someone who didn't try to dress up the fact that it was all sex and power. It was so refreshingly, wonderfully, brutally honest. It made him twist his head and press a kiss into the gloved hand. He wanted to feel the gunman's bare skin to an almost painful degree, and he eagerly licked the cloth of the glove as he rocked his hips against the man's leg. If he was an animal to Durham, he might as well act it.
Soon he was humping against the male's leg, with enough excitement that he didn't notice when the hand was pulled from his face for the gunman to remove the gloves. Next he kicked off his high boots, and Blood himself though he didn't really notice that, and kicked off his socks. Then he...laid down on the bed? Now thoroughly confused, the pet crawled onto the bed with a painfully pouty look on his face. His face reflected the hurt he felt inside, the betrayal as his excited body shuddered and occasionally bucked, searching for relief. To his ultimate disbelief, the gunman simply crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes to ignore his pet. “D...Durham! Durham!” The male squeaked out in a cracked voice, trying to sound outraged but only succeeding in reflecting the desperation he felt inside. “Durham!” He repeated as he slid on top of the larger body, straddling his waist as he pushed and shook the unyielding form beneath him. It was to no avail. “Alpha!” The teen shouted in a half sob as he grinding his hips against those under him, sloppily demanding attention like the drunk chick at a grope fest. “Alpha, why? Alpha! Durham! Durham!” He repeated the name over and over again, humping the stronger body with each call. Yet he remained as still as a statue, the firmness of his body making Blood wonder if maybe his Tao was to become stone. By this point he didn't care, his own squirming and rubbing against the warming and well muscled body under him brought him close to relief whether his Alpha wanted to help him or not! He'd show him, he could make himself reach that peak without a response from the gunman! “Ahhh, Durham!” He mewled out a searching moan as he humped, trying to bring himself off since the cowboy seemed to not care about sex anymore for whatever strange reason. Blood was there, right there, almost there, but Durham chose then of all times to move. He grabbed the slender waist of the teen above him and roughly threw him off of the bed entirely, laughing when the body hit the ground and grunted in pain. He saw those hips jerk with denied need, and he sneered.
“Don't ever try to finish without my permission again, understand, whore?” The other made a small, pathetic noise, absently rocking his hips slowly in condolence to his missed peak. “Good, now get your clothes off. All o' them.” The older male shifted so he was sitting on the side of the bed, with a much better view of his pet. “Strip down for me, and do it slowly.” His voice had a level of command that was unrivaled in Blood's mind, by anyone. No one could match the certainty and strength behind that voice. The pet nodded as he stood to begin removing his clothing. He started slow, removing the bandages on his arms before the wrap he had around his shoulders. From there he took off the diagonal belt over his chest, then the bandages around his waist. Then the knee length boots, socks. His own belt across his waist, then he was finally down to his pants. Just like the Alpha. The teen looked over at the gunman, wanting to tease him a bit. As he undid his pants he walked over to Durham slowly, savoring the moment as he finally dropping his pants and boxers underneath. He stood naked before the cowboy, securely between his legs. Completely exposed, utterly in his power. Blood kept his eyes down, awaiting his next order. The teen nearly bolted from surprise when he felt the other suddenly put his hand on his stomach. It felt slightly warmer without the gloves, but still cold in comparison with his own skin. So calloused and rough, obviously he'd known hard work at some point. Or maybe he just killed with his hands once upon a time? Blood didn't know, likely wouldn't know, just stood there obediently as the older man ran his rough hands over his softer skin with a scoff. He sounded almost disappointed.
“Good boy. Though I gotta say, I wasn't expectin' your powers to heal up all my... handiwork. Don't worry though, I plan on doin' it all over again.” He laughed behind his mask, eyes eagerly taking in the other's form. Truly the stripper had a beautiful body, shorter height, evenly tanned, sculpted, not a scar to be seen though he was eager to give plenty tonight. It made his lips curl into another unseen smile as his eyes continued to travel. Everything about him seemed to call to Durham, even though to begin with he had a hard time touching the boy. Now he could hardly think about anything else. The gunman's hands rested on his hips, while his emerald orbs settled on what was between them. Now that he had some great difficulty touching still, unless of course it was to cut or burn the appendage. That was something he only gave pain, never pleasure. It wasn't out of jealousy, his own was definitely superior, he supposed it was still a lingering outcry to his sudden orientation shift. Regardless, Blood would be having troubles reaching a peak without that being touched in a good way. Durham didn't care, so long as he got his own kicks. On that mental note, the gunman stood, close enough to press against the shorter male's body. He looked so much smaller and younger like this, naked, exposed, showing both fear and lust in no small parts. It was delicious.
“Now, on your knees.” The male dropped without a second thought, chin resting on his crotch and looking up at him with expectant and hungry flecked orbs. Such pretty eyes. “Take off my pants. With your teeth.” The cowboy sneered, roughly petting the sunset colored locks as he arched his back to jut his hips out against the male's neck. “Like the animal you are, little whore.” The westerner drawled out with a grin, a shudder going through him as the smaller male did indeed take his pants between his teeth and tug them down gently. Not to mention slowly, almost painfully so, but it just made the high he felt from being in control so much better. The male loved this, loved dominating someone else with mere words instead of murder. It only got better when the little tart's eyes snapped open wide when his nose brushed against Durham's own manhood. Apparently he wasn't expecting something of that size to be what he was working with. The cowboy couldn't help but chuckle at his naivete. “Did I say stop, slut?” Blood immediately resumed, actually pulling the fabric down much faster, clearly excited by what was silently promised to him. It was entertaining to see him working so hard and fast, so much so that at times the boy lost his grip. He always quickly bit the fabric again and resumed his frantic pulling, and in little time he had succeeded. Immediately the teen knelt before him so he could look up and observe the body of the one who would be taking him.
The body wasn't perfect, but, that actually made it seem that way. Stronger. He was tall, much taller than the stripper, and wider too. While his own muscles were mostly just for show on a pole, this man's was for use in the deadliest of ways, that much was obvious. The gunman had lighter skin compared to the teen's tan, and it was littered with cuts and scars unlike the younger's unmarred skin. There were even bullet wounds, which somehow didn't surprise Blood given his western look and accent. The imperfections gave him such a strong looking body, he couldn't help but run his hands over every mark. They were beautiful, so much more so than his dull, clean form. His body told a story, of death, violence, and conquest. His own just told of beauty and lust. Perfection to the eye, but so utterly meaningless when looking at someone like Durham. He meant something, the embodiment of power and death. “You're perfect...” He mumbled as his fingers glided over the three bullet wounds in a cluster on the taller male's right side. “...There's so much death in these scars...” His voice mumbled quietly as he leaned up to lick the long since healed wounds, feeling the scars with his tongue as well as the other's body tense slightly from the attention.
“...You're a monster...” He could feel the older man's hardness against his neck and chest, making his own jump. Strange how that part of his body was also colder than Blood's body, though harder and more unyielding than the rest of the gunman's. Like the barrel of a gun in a strange, erotic way. The sunset haired male sat back on his heels to kneel, again looking up at the cowboy. Specifically the cock that had been pressed against him a moment ago. It made Blood feel both embarrassed and excited as it was both longer and thicker than his own, with a slight curve... He'd been with enough men to know that he indeed had something to be very confidant about. It made the male smile softly, wondering how it would feel to have something like that inside him. So unique. From there he looked up, past the shot side and stomach, past the sturdy but formerly cut chest and broad shoulders, to his face. His hair was as long and pitch black as ever, kept neatly he was sure without bothering as he didn't seem the type to preen himself. Narrow, hawk like eyes set behind long bangs that framed the ever present mask. It made him wonder why he wasn't taking it off... Were there more scars? Some sort of disfigurement? Or did he simply not trust those there? Why give them a name without showing his face...? It didn't make sense to Blood and he would ask about it later, but not now. The male may get annoyed and just lay on the bed again without so much as a thought to giving his pet any relief. It did sound like something Durham could and would do. The male being scrutinized eyes narrowed, one brow lifting playfully as he sat back down. Blood leaned forward a bit, his own eyes glued to those of his Alpha while the taller male spread his legs wider.
“C'mere, boy,” the gunman spoke in an amused tone as he waved a hand towards himself. Obediently, Blood crawled closer so he knelt nestled between the older man's legs, gaze shifting occasionally between Durham's face and his cock. “Suck.” The order was barked harshly, and thankfully the smaller male knew better than to keep him waiting as he wrapped his lips around the tip and gently sucked as he was bade. The taste of the silken flesh in the feline Taoist's current state was unbelievable, so much so that his eyes slid closed during that initial suck. “Ahh, that's my little whore,” the cowboy was slightly breathless as he spoke, never having the male suck him during their escapades... You could only get so much from an unconscious body. “More,” The raven haired male commanded, hands immediately tangling themselves in the other's sunset colored strands. “Take it all...” Without warning the taller male suddenly pushed down on the head he was holding as well as bucking up, forcing the young stripper to accommodate his entire length. For a long moment he just held the male there, throbbing comfortably in his tight throat and ignoring the discomfort the other was obviously feeling. The coughs and gagging actually felt good along his member, and knowing the other was having trouble breathing only excited him more. “I knew you could take it, whore.” The gunman chuckled, suddenly bucking his hips without warning to make him shift in the other's convulsing throat. Such a good feeling, to get off on your pet's discomfort... He wanted to take it further.
One hand grasped the gasping male's nose, holding it shut.
The look of delicious panic the teen sent him was priceless, and he groaned and tried to speak with a mouth full of cock. The way his tongue stroked against him only heightened his pleasure, and soon Durham was pulling back on the male's head, never fully leaving his mouth or letting go of his nose, just moving it back and forth as quickly as he could while he bucked with as much strength as their position would allow. Then the tanned teen's eyelids fluttered, body seemed to go limp, and the gun Taoist immediately thrust as deep into his pet's throat as he could, waiting until the boy's eyes slid closed before pushing him away altogether onto the floor. One large hand idly stroking himself as he watched the boy hack and convulse as his lungs desperately sucked in as much air as they could. “Such a tight little throat you have, Blood.” The older man murmured, patting his lap with a dark chuckle. “C'mere and sit, boy.” As soon as the body was able to move after inhaling a sufficient amount of air, the pet leapt through the air to land on his lap. It surprised the gunman, having the almost blacked out teen assault him with kisses, licks, caresses, and even sucks to his skin. “Good boy, you liked when I cut off your air? You like when I make you dizzy and black out? You like that I could suffocate you whenever I wanted?” The teen purred, nodding vigorously as he ran his hands over his chest and stomach and nuzzled his mask.
“Ah, yes, yes, I love it,” the pet panted, humping against the older male's stomach a few times before pressing against it. “I like being used, I like being jerked around and tossed like a rag doll...” The younger man gasped as his hips were suddenly grabbed and crashed against Durham's body, trapping his length painfully between both their stomachs. It was like being caught in a fully tightened vice, only with warm, smooth flesh on one side and cold, hard, and scarred skin on the other. The pain somehow got him more excited, which only heightened his throbbing agony as he was pushed further down along the gunman's body so the older man's shaft was nestled firmly against his buttocks. It was so cold and hard, yet it set the younger male's skin on fire to touch it. He wondered how it would feel to have the cold thing inside of him, so very deep... The stripper shuddered involuntarily, arching forward so the length along his bottom rubbed more against him and his own member was pressed more firmly between them. The stinging pain coming from his member was so good, so different from what he normally had with other men and women. They were always so gentle because of his soft and clean appearance... And those who were rough never hurt him there... He felt a shiver run up his back as the older man pressed them even tighter against each other to give one strong crushing feeling. Just as suddenly, he was tossed into the middle of the bed onto his stomach, with Durham quickly crawling on top of him to pin him in place with his weight.
“Stay.” The older man murmured in his ear huskily before he pulled away and off of the bed. It took everything in Blood not to follow but he did as he was told and remained on the bed, though he did rock his hips at the wonderful change from the suffocating hardness of their bodies to the gentle softness of the bed. He heard some small noises from beside him where Durham had moved to, though before he could look to investigate the cowboy had already climbed back on top of him. “Grab the bed posts.” He commanded with little patience, and the tanned male wasted no time in obeying him. Blood stretched out his arms and wrapped his fingers tightly around the slender metal posts as he was told, and he wondered why it was that the gunman wanted him to do so. It wasn't moments before the older male in question grabbed one wrist to force it flat against the post, then using one of his belts to tie it tightly against the metal surface. He repeated the process on his 'partners' other hand, making sure it was tight enough to bite harshly into the skin of his wrist. Any slight movement made him feel as if his skin was chaffing and blistering under the rough leather, and he was sure excessive movement would break his tan skin. “Lift those hips up, bitch,” Durham drawled out as he harshly slapped the rounded flesh of the teen's backside. He knelt behind the male as Blood slowly did as he was told, and he noted the newest Apostle was being careful to avoid jerking against his bonds. The tart was smart when he wanted to be. Once the boy was up on his knees, the gunman forced the legs wider apart earning a small gasp for his efforts. For a long moment the man merely looked at what he was about to ravage. Tied to the bed, open, vulnerable, shuddering and gasping with both excitement and fear. The cowboy loved fear, and the fact that the boy wanted this.
“Heh. All excited, aren't you?” It was more of an accusation than a question, Blood could feel it as surely as he felt the color rising in his cheeks as his head nodded quickly. There was no denying it, he could feel his cock jump with every brush those hands made over his skin. His body felt so much more sensitive now that he couldn't see what the older man was doing and it intrigued him, made him stick his butt up and arch his back deeper. There was such a strong craving for more touches, he wanted Durham to do something, anything, to his body. He couldn't suppress the desperate moan that had been forming, only gently tugging against the belts to feel that biting sensation against his wrists. “Someone's eager tonight...” The gunman murmured as he opened a drawer on the nightstand, Blood's eyes watching the hand excitedly as he felt the male lean against him to reach and grasp whatever it was he needed. Those eyes widened when the hand withdrew holding a large hunting knife, his heart sinking in fear as his stomach fluttered in sick anticipation. He wondered what the gunman would do with that knife... The teen flinched when he felt the cool metal graze against his skin, involuntarily shuddering when the larger man laughed. “Scared?” The feline male nodded slowly, jumping again when the blade was run along his side. “Want me to stop?” The male shook his head quickly, freezing when the blade was brought to his manhood. “Good, 'cause you'd've lost this if you decided to tell me what to do, little whore.” Blood whined pitifully at that, tugging harder against his bonds though it only earned him blisters and small trickles of his namesake running down his forearms to drip onto the bed. “Mm, now you're really scared...” The cowboy chuckled, running the blade along the younger male's spine. The little shivers excited the gunman, physical symptoms of terror were addictive in a sense....
“Durham...” The dubbed pet whined petulantly, rocking his hips as well as pulling harder against his bindings. The blood went from trickles to a small but steady flow from the irritating leather cutting into the soft skin. “Please, cut me,” he whined again, unaware at how shocked the cowboy was by the words, “Please mark me, please, I wanna be yours, I want everyone to know who I belong to!” His words were rushed with a sense of urgency, like there was some sort of time limit to the act, pulling desperately at the belts holding his hands to the bed to free himself. He needed to be cut. “Your body is so beautiful, I want it! I want my flesh to tell who owns me! Please!” The cries became higher as the cowboy idly ran the knife up and down his back slowly, deliberating on the smaller male's words.
Blood wanted to be cut. He wanted to cut the whore. Blood wanted a sign of ownership. He'd give him one, no, several. Blood wanted his body. He'd use the teen's own body to his heart's content. Blood wanted to be his. He already was. Yet now he was having trouble deciding how and where to cut the male, as he did want to give the tanned teen what he wanted, but there was also a thought to make the teen sorry he ever asked for it. The gunman's lips slowly curled into a cruel smile. Somehow he thought he could handle both. Even if the stripper did cry out for it, pain was still pain no matter how much one liked it. However the taller male started out slow, one long and thin cut along the male's entire spine. Small, negligible droplets of blood oozing from varied points of the cut. It was startling how beautiful blood looked against the tanned skin of the teen who was named after it. The color somehow seemed to be a deeper, richer red than when it was bled from other bodies. “...Durham...” The voice of the boy had gotten quieter, with an almost otherworldly rasp as he again called for the older man's attention. “D-deeper...” That stutter and slight drop in volume relayed his hesitation to the gunman, showed him his fear. Despite his apprehension however, he asked the cowboy for more. This pleased Durham. It was a very good quality in a pet to ask for what you don't want, considering how he would likely give it regardless. Again the cowboy said nothing, simply ran the knife along the same thin cut to deepen it slightly, enough so a line of red rose up to the male's skin along the entire slice. The teen shuddered then, hips rocking appreciatively, before purring in satisfaction. Durham waited a moment, but there wasn't another request for deeper or another cut. Apparently that thin razor mark was enough for Blood? While it was long, it was hardly enough to appease the gun Taoist's own appetite for agony and blood. He wanted his pet to suffer and then thank him for it. He would make the quasi-feline suffer, and he had better thank him for it.
The gunman roughly cut into his back again, but this time deep enough to make blood spurt up from the wound a couple inches. A few places even hit the gunman's mask with the red liquid, making his cruel smirk grow. The surprised scream that the younger male let rip from his throat didn't hurt either... It was such a beautiful sight. The now bleeding back arched downwards in an attempt to escape the blade after the fact, really it only sent more blood flying and trickling down his body, the brightly haired head leaning back with wide shocked eyes as he screamed bloody murder... So expressive. So tempting. The gunman smirked, digging the blade into the male's skin for a second deep and spurting cut along his waist before dropping the knife behind him on the bed. Now the pet was really fighting against his bonds, pulling and yelling and bleeding so beautifully from the torn wrists. The pet screamed many things, most commonly the cowboy's name, but no where in his panicked shouts or words were 'stop' or 'help me'. And those were the only words he could say before anyone would dare intrude on them. “Scream louder, pet, I don't think the others can hear you,” the gunman chuckled, he hoped the pale man would hear them and stew in his own misery. It would serve him right, perhaps finally break the illusion the Apostles leader had of Blood being his. It made him think back on when Blood turned his attention from him for the lavender eyed male... Feeling a tremor of jealousy go through him at the thought, he grit his teeth and cut again, going diagonally from the teen's shoulder all the way down to his hip. So much beautiful blood flowed, always followed by those impassioned screams... It was beginning to make him rather... Impatient.
Whenever his own member throbbed with need, he always sought to relieve it as soon and best as possible, and as good as the male's throat had felt around his swollen appendage it wasn't what he was after. Not at all. With a dark smirk the cowboy sat the knife down on the younger male's back, before grabbing the teen's buttocks and spreading the firm cheeks to look at his prize. Strange to think such a small thing has suffered as much as it has and always shrank back to such a tight fit. Almost like it'd never been touched, it was akin to having a virgin over and over again, though Durham had known the stripper wasn't pure in any sense, even that very first unconscious night. The boy just radiated sexual energy, it was clear he'd had many lovers in his past from the way he carried himself in his flirting. Though he was certain to be the roughest fuck the boy would ever have. He'd make sure of it.
Blood, for his own part, was mewling painfully as his back flexed in agony with every new cut, though also with pleasure. It was such a wonderful sensation, pulling at every part of him. His blood running over his back, warm yet cooling against his hot flushed skin before dripping onto the bed. “Ahhh...” The pet breathed, a weak release for some of the misery he was experiencing, but not much. There was just so much pain, so much embarrassment... It was such a foreign feeling to have his ass spread apart and leered at like a piece of meat, made him feel so small and self conscious. His mind flashed back to the countless faces he'd taken to bed in the short time he'd been sexually active, and none struck him as utterly stupid as the cowboy's did. The gunman was everything that the quasi-feline wanted, needed, he craved him on every possible level. Durham was like a drug, always on his mind and needed desperately no matter how much he hurt him, and he did hurt him. And it was beautiful. “Durham!” He cried out in surprise as the man suddenly cut several diagonal lines from his other shoulder to his opposite hip, though the shoulder cuts were the deepest yet and he could feel more of his namesake spilling than any wound before. Even more so than the copious amounts of red fluid spurting and running down his arms in thick tracks.
The tanned teen bucked his hips in response to the searing pain in his shoulder, which was heightened when the larger male's fingers dug into the wound. He seemed to be dipping his fingers in to collect some of the sanguine substance, but wh�� “Oh!” The younger man gasped as he suddenly felt something wet hit his exposed hole, realizing that it was the collected blood being poured onto him for lubrication. “Ah, ahhh...” He panted, face flushing as the act was finally about to happen, he'd finally get to feel the cowboy inside of him... Another faint groan of pain as more blood was scooped and put onto his hole, then a third though Blood never felt that one connect with his rear which meant... Durham was using that load on himself. His own life blood was covering the older man's arousal as well as lubing up his hole, not to mention running down his arms and back. “Durham, please!” His voice cracked with urgency, hips rocking and wrists pulling against his bonds in an excited fervor. “I need you, please! Please give it to me!” It was easy to tell just from his voice that he was close to crying, his entire body shivering in forced anticipation. “Durham! Durh�� Ack!” He sputtered as the male suddenly speared him violently without warning, it felt like the cowboy had split him in two! “DURHAM!!” He screamed louder than he ever had before, back arching and pushing his hips backwards to invite the gunman further inside his body. God, this, this is incredible! The pet thought to himself as he ground his hips back into the larger man's body.
The cowboy felt beyond perfect inside him, the incredible feeling of fullness seeped into every part of him. Blood had never felt so stuffed in his entire life, never felt so raw and stretched out... It was as uncomfortable as pleasurable though when the older man immediately started a brutal pace the pain began to spike while the pleasure started to wane as he panicked. In truth the blood did little to alleviate the friction aside from the initial push, and now he felt himself tear and stretch painfully with every in and outward stroke. “Ah! Ah! Hurts, hurts so much! Ah!” He let out little whimpering pants with every thrust, though despite his whining brought his hips back hard to meet with the other each time. “Too big, it hurts! Durham! Oh god, it hurts!” The teen yanked and jerked against the belts, body jumping as the leather rubbed his bloody wrists raw. His own arousal had only been getting harder and jumping excitedly since they really got started, occasionally slapping his toned stomach from the force of his thrusts. This was actually happening, he was really, truly feeling Durham's body shoved deep into his own, tearing his insides like he was splitting him apart... The male mewled in a pathetic sort of pleasure, mind reeling at the images of all the things the cowboy would do to him in the days and nights to come... It was a good thing they did have a doctor in the building, but that thought was pushed to the back of his mind as the agony induced high he was feeling took over everything, urging him to hump back against the larger male to impale himself further to reach his peak. It felt so close, so frustratingly, wonderfully close.
Durham, on his end, had never felt so much power as when he forcibly took the male when he was awake. There had been a delight in taking him with the dubious consent he'd given prior to his long slip into unconsciousness, but it simply wasn't the same as making the boy crawl and scream and bleed and whine, all with his unquestioned consent... Even if the tanned teen was afraid, even if he was unsure, even if he changed his mind, he took everything the gunman gave him. It was a beautiful sight to the westerner. The young male's back covered in blood, especially the deep wound to the shoulder, his wrists dripping the same sanguine substance as the leather rubbed and tore into the soft skin, the hole clenching tightly around his blood coated member as he ripped and caused tears in the warm cavern with his brutal thrusts... The best part, though, was the quasi-feline male loved every second. Even the parts that hurt and scared him made the stripper moan and writhe around him, struggling futilely against his bonds just to cause himself more pain. So beautiful. The cowboy smirked beneath his mask as he gripped the male's hips tightly, free hand's fingers running over the bleeding marks on his back and smearing the bright red liquid all over the clean bits of skin until it was covered. All the while he humped into the young body roughly, enjoying the feel of him cling and tear around him each thrust... “D-Durham! I-I'm gonna��” The gunman sneered at the declaration, thrusting harshly inside to further injure the teen's insides as well as hit his good spot. “You're gonna what, kid?” He chuckled darkly, reaching up and digging his fingers into the wounded shoulder as he kept up his forceful thrusting into the stripper's sweet spot.
“Durham I want to cum, can I? Please? Please! Durham!” The teen begged weakly, whole body jerking and wrists pulling to try and gain more leverage in his powerless situation. “Let me cum, let me cum, let me cum!” He chanted his demand each time his spot was hit, only barely holding back from his peak as he was deathly afraid the larger male would end up castrating him with that knife sitting ominously with them on the bed. It was maddening to hold back, something he'd never been fond of doing, but... Durham wasn't giving him a choice, he had to wait until his alpha told him he could let his orgasm hit. The stripper just hoped he would be able to hold out before the verdict was in. “No,” he heard the taller man utter, his heart sinking all the way into his flip-flopping stomach as he was denied. “You cum and you're dead, little whore.” The cowboy warned in that low drawl of a voice, making the teen shudder as he whimpered, not wanting to be denied. “B-b-but Durha��” The brightly haired male's voice stalled out in fear as the blade of that knife pressed against his member, effectively making his approaching orgasm come to a screeching halt as fear filled him from top to bottom. “Don't tell me what to do, bitch, or I'll make sure you won't ever cum again.” The words were hissed out in a delicious threat, Blood's instincts making him reel his decision to close that door but something else in him was so glad to give the male total control over him in this dark room, in this bed. Despite the lingering instincts to fight, the tanned teen merely purred at the threat, carefully rocking his hips so he was only slightly cut by the knife. “Yes, Durham,” he murmured as he felt the faint trickle of his namesake along his threatened member.
It was that moment, that exchange of power and sealing of the teen's submission, that the older man growled out his own release. The westerner leaned over the body at his mercy and groaned, grabbing onto the sunset colored strands of hair in front of him and pulling with all his might. How he loved to hear his neck pop, that gasp of pained surprise as the sudden movement of his head mixed with the stinging sensation of his release burning the open, bleeding tears inside of his hole. It was exquisite, such a beautiful boy... The cowboy's breathing slowly returned to normal, hips tense from remaining fully buried within his teen tramp while he rode out his heat encased bliss. He'd been rather unwillingly chaste since he'd joined the Apostles, never having the time to deal with his urges, until this tanned male came along. Even before then, he'd never had sex consensually once. Now the stripper teased and begged and willingly locked himself in the cowboy's room, crawling to him like his personal bitch wanting everything he could give him. And he would do everything he wanted to the whore. And he would never let him go. The gun Taoist gently pressed his forehead against the male's bloodied back, panting as he recovered. It only a brief moment of weakness, not long enough for his charge to even notice as Blood writhed from the throbbing pain in his backside. He pulled away before it was noticed, and withdrawing from the warm tunnel with a grunt. “Such a good bitch,” he sneered, slapping the stripper's ass before undoing the belts around his pet's wrists. “Turn over.” He barked the command, chuckling to himself as it was obeyed. It was obvious the male was in pain, the way he winced when he laid down, how he tried to rub his wrists to comfort them but ending up gasping at the surprising tenderness to him so he instead let him hover above his skin. Such a cute face when he was in hurting...
“Raise your hands above your head.” A whimper came from the smaller male's lips, big brown eyes looking at him pleadingly. The sight made the sadist's loins flood with excitement, knowing that retying the rough belts to the sore and bleeding wrists would bite and irritate the male all through the night. Just like he wanted. “Do it.” He affirmed, that little pout on the teen's face as he reluctantly complied making him lick his lips. “There's a good boy,” he praised as he refastened the belts around the wrists and headboard. He looked so attractive like that, helpless, hurting, nervous, but somehow still wanting and eager at his more positive name for the newest Apostle. With a smirk, the taller male slid under the male, knife in hand, making sure to shift and irritate the bleeding cuts as much as possible. “Such a good boy,” he spoke again, mask nuzzling into the deeply cut shoulder and bloodying the younger male's neck as well as his own mask. The cowboy then slid his semi-erect member back into the still ailing hole, earning a low moan as he pulled a blanket up to their waists for modesty's sake. Still so tight and warm as he clung to his owner's throbbing member... “Such a soft body.” He commented with a bit of reverence for his toy, one arm draping over his waist possessively as his other hand dragged the knife over the tanned skin, making idle cuts wherever he decided he wanted them.
Blood merely laid there, taking in all the different sensations. The nuzzling, cuddling, idle member inside of him, even the nicks to his skin from the knife were all comforting, but at the same time painful from all the wear his body had taken all at once. So strange, the cowboy, to be gentle and hard at the same time. Controlling yet comforting, commanding but understanding of the shape he was in and not pushing anything worse. The stripper suspected that would change as he got more used to his role, that things would get worse and worse until eventually the westerner would kill him, either from the brutality of the act itself, when he lost interest in his pet, or even frustration after running out of things to do to the kidnapped Apostle. Whatever the reason, Durham would inevitably kill him. The tanned teen knew it in his heart, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and he heavily suspected the male holding him in the sickeningly bloody embrace knew it too. “Such a good boy,” the deep drawling voice repeated, making the masochist in his arms shudder appreciatively with a smile growing across his face. The westerner would use his body, would cut, bend, and break him into a million pieces. Would degrade him, beat him, and dominate him, in public as well as in private. He would deny Blood whatever he wished and demand his obedience, or else. There was nothing the cowboy wouldn't ask of him, and there was nothing the feline wouldn't give him. Even his life. If anyone was to kill him, he wanted it to be Durham. He chuckled at the revelation, then winced as his wrists were bit into by the leather belts, snuggling awkwardly into the hard body under him. The stinging pain it caused made him moan as his eyes slowly started to droop closed after the rather exhausting day he'd had.
“Good night, Durham,” he spoke with a lazy tone, leaning his head back onto the man's shoulder and letting his arms become slack. The unmoving length inside of him was becoming more than a little uncomfortable, but somehow he liked it there. There was a long pause, of both silence and all of the cowboy's actions, before a reply was heard. “Tch. Just go to sleep kid, tomorrow's the day,” the man's darker chuckle reverberated from the metal mask directly into the teen's ear, eliciting another shudder from him. “The day we stop skulkin' around in the dark, and start killin'.” The teen opened one eye, tilting his head to peak at the cowboy's face, noting the toothy mask to be covered in his blood. It made him smile. “...I'll get to see what your power is?” The westerner laughed then, a flick of his wrist making a new cut on the male's stomach.
“Mmhm. Now shut up. I need to rest.” That was the cowboy's last words on the matter, hawk like green eyes sliding closed as he tossed the blade on the nightstand and relaxing his body to invite sleep to come to him. It was much easier with his bleeding toy warming him, occasionally whining from his predicament. The westerner felt a smirk tugging at his lips as he slipped away into his dreams, which were much like what he'd just inflicted on Blood. The stripper was so strange, letting someone do all that to him and then instead of crying in a corner, being content as a cat and wanting to see his Tao the next day. Such a peculiar creature his toy was, though he had to admit, having someone to impress the next day made him more eager for the Revolution to come.
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A Cowboy's Pet