Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.


169. Francis Dolarhyde

~He liked to bite.
She found that out rather early on. She didn’t mind it then, and she didn’t mind it now, even with the crescent shaped marks colouring her skin, red blossoms that stayed for weeks, and sometimes lightened to silvery scars.
A part of her was afraid to admit just how much she liked them when she looked in the mirror, craning her neck to stare at them, peppering the curve of her buttocks, the backs of her knees, and across the length of her shoulders. Red on white. If there was any pairing of colour that suited him, it would be those two.
Sometimes they would be soft, gentle nips of his teeth, more to stimulate than to mark. She shivered pleasantly at the memory of that perfect body stretched out above her, a muscular thigh between her legs, strong hands pinning her wrists to the bed above her head, while he alternated between delicate kisses and sharp little nips that made her squeal. She liked those times, how her skin pebbled with goosebumps at the sensation.
Other times, he was utterly lost in it. Within the throes of his passions and his fathomless lust, he would bite her and it was vicious and unforgiving. There was no teasing of teeth, no gentle kisses to alleviate the pain. He would bite hard, thrust harder, and wouldn’t let go until he could taste her blood and flood her cunt with come. She liked him best like that, she thought, brushing a fingertip over a particularly nasty scar on her left shoulder. He’d taken her from behind then, fucking her like the beast he was, and relished being, throwing his head back and roaring, his teeth stained red.
His scarlet smile. He didn’t smile much, really...
The man, the Beast, himself was lying flat on his stomach, one arm curled around her pillow, watching her.
He wouldn’t say sorry. He couldn’t. He didn’t mean it. He liked the way she looked wearing his mark on her body. It wasn’t just her back, those ones she liked the most, he knew.
He loved the ones on her front. Her breasts were almost pink with how roughly he’d handled them not twenty minutes ago, there was a fresh mark on her belly that had already stopped bleeding and, he blushed slightly, a hickey on her inner thigh. How hard it had been not to bite her between her legs, to feel the velvet of her cunt against his jaw.
Surprisingly, he had enjoyed tasting her there, feeling her muscles twitching against his careful ministrations.
“The bleeding has,” Dolarhyde frowned, seeking a word without the damning ‘s’. ‘...ended.”
“Mmm.” She pursed her lips, twirling once in front of the mirror, glancing almost shyly over her shoulder to smile at him. “Luckily for you. If it hadn’t, I’d have opened yours up again so we could suffer together.”
He gave her his best closed lipped smile. “They hurt.”
He smiled with teeth, chuckling. He hadn’t done that before she came along. “You made them hurt. But...they feel good now.”
Down the length of his impressive, tattooed back were eight, long bloody scratches from his shoulders to his buttocks, all of them deep, some of them still healing, others still seeping blood. He hadn’t thought he could ever enjoy pain like that until that agony was combined with the utter ecstasy of his own satisfaction. He had almost wept into the nape of her neck.
She smirked at him, almost sauntering across the room to their bed, stepping over a lamp that had been knocked over sometime between the first and third round of vigorous fucking, settling on the bed beside him. Reaching out, she pressed a fingernail to the deepest of his wounds, slowly pushing hard until blood welled up underneath, smiling at his brief grimace.
“I do so love making you hurt,” she murmured, dipping her head and licking the tiny beads of blood away. “And I love the souvenirs.”
Dolarhyde graced her with his teeth, biting into her wrist until it smarted, a fresh bruise darkening the skin there. “Have another for the road,” he murmured, flashing her his jaws.
They weren’t red this time, but she had to admit to herself that he hadn’t ever looked more human than he did in that moment. She had seen the Beast and walked away with only a few scratches. And now she was looking at the Man beneath it all.
But when it came down to it, the teeth were the same.

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