1. the beast whos name is lust

Blood on my fingertips. All amidst sighs of pleasure & smells of delight. I can see now red as i draw my index and middle to my gaze. It’s a cherry red that stems downwards as if to find roots in my open palm. A pain grows in the middle of pleasure. Bastian is overcome with passion. He fucks me good & hard. He takes me so deeply that i disappear & it becomes all about him. I live in his presence and thus I am taken to the point where i am revealed to be meek and human. so frail & venerable. its as if i was cursed by a disease where the slightest touch would break my skin and allow to seep out my hearts blood - a profound bleeding that is the expression of love! Thumb & fingers press together for a final wet confirmation, and then they slide sickly apart.

Pain over rides pleasure but i continue with the act. I pull my hand to my thigh & wipe way the blood as he puts his arms around my chest. He holds me tightly, but i want him to hold me even tighter. I remember the blood as he cums. Each of us makes an offering to this beast who's name is lust. Gentle touches ease the passion as well as the pain.

Bastian nuzzles his face near my ear & gently whispers an apology of sorts '...i just get so carried away.... your smell.... touch... didn't mean to hurt ya' i half heartedly mutter a 'it's ok'. I do this not so much cause i doubt his guenuity, but rather because i know that this was my choice as much as it was his. We lie next to each other for just slightly more than an hour. Bastian delayed his necessary departure as long as could be. he dressed as i half slept & half dreamed... every so often i would delay the tiredness so as to look at him... and every so often he would pause from his task of getting dressed in order to look at me. As we look at each other we remember our pact of blood & cum. he fixes his collar & looks at me again with his soft blue eyes 'Jonas?' he calls to me 'i want you to be here when i get home' Its a demand as much as of a request. I of course respond in a yes... it is an answer that lives in the memory of blood.