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Carnal Catharsis	By : PandaBearzh Category: +A through F > DRAMAtical Murder Views: 1220 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own DMMD or make any money off of this work.

Chapter List
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Coupled with the dancing red glow from the crimson lit candles, this night seemed as if it were taking place in some other reality. The angel before him was drawn gracefully upright with pure creamy limbs, those of which seemed to only beckon and draw an onlooker’s eyes to the black cuffs and horizontal stripes blooming on his vulnerable form. His skin was warm to the touch, and alive as the muscle beneath it danced and twitched under his fingertips. Hersha’s attentions varied from the act of dealing pain to the careful assessment of the areas that received it in languishing gentle brushes that likely only added to the complex array of emotions that broiled with his guest’s foggy, foggy mind.

Despite himself, Theo seemed to be calmer now that the gag was secured within his locks. His breath had steadied around it, and his heart seemed to have found a preferred pace. Much to Hersha’s pleasure, the only thing that the gag prevented was the formation of discernable words. It didn’t do a thing to silence the muffled and uncontrollable groans that dribbled from around the sphere, though the knowledge of this seemed to be some small part of what soothed the other male. He couldn’t speak. He was relieved from having to articulate what he felt, relieved from having to pretend to protest, and unbeknownst to Hersha, relieved from the struggle of wanting to give up. Piece by piece, Hersha was wedging his mind from his motor function, and caught glimpse upon glimmer at the Theo which hid from the rest of the world. Still, it wasn’t everything. There had been, without doubt, some sort of protective veil which the foreigner wore to hide his true nature from others. In others, this veil was called “Dignity,” but Hersha had already violently stricken it from him at his first demand for the foreigner to strip. Generally, at this point most people became pliable, and revealed their true vulnerable disposition to him. Spirits were often possessed by one or two characteristics, whether it was greed, lust, some other sin, lack thereof, or some combination of the aforementioned. Theo, however, didn’t seem follow the norm. He seemed a great deal humbler in his disposition from square one, and it was perhaps in this way that he was able to bend as a blade of grass might against a hurricane. Yes, in this way, Theo was a great deal stronger than he had given him credit for. Where was his darkness? Where was his shame?

It roused him. His compulsion to destroy, ruin, and demolish only grew with the challenge he faced. The more that Theo yielded, the more desperate Hersha became. He wouldn’t break, but he flexed. He trembled, he sobbed, he gave in, but it wasn’t weakness. He resisted him spiritually, and barred entry to the inner darkness which every person locked away. It was nearly as if with every crack of his exterior shell that more of his pure light leaked from his core, and the more blinded by it Hersha became, the more he wanted to be the sole possessor of it.

With the cane now resting peacefully against the wall at an angle with the beads of sweat dribbling down it as if it were gentle morning dew, Hersha returned his attention and affection to the target of such use by the instrument. His hands roamed freely and without abandon now, coveting the sensitive skin that blanketed his Adam’s apple with a teasing squeeze, caressing the exterior of his abdominal, and scooping into the depths of his groin. His digits uncurled past the staff which seemed startled to respond, and gave the sac beneath commanding attention. “You’re such a curious, perverse, little thing…” Hersha heard his tone bless to the tune of a genuine groan vibrating against the wall. “Have you not realized yet that I now own your dignity?”

Theodore choked a reply that consisted of trepid shuddering and a brief hiccup of a sound which he was unable to swallow. Hersha’s lips curled with pleasure, but he couldn’t manage a pleased chortle or snicker in the slightest. Why wouldn’t he break? He looked so fragile strung there as he was, that Hersha’s own sadistic nature twisted, fully unfurled within him. Suddenly, for the first time, it became questionable to him, and he found himself to hesitate with self awareness.

What was he doing here with Theo? What did he really hope to achieve from this? His grip tightened, and his victim whined, but the pleasure of it was eroding. It slipped through his gaze like sands in the hourglass. Somehow, he realized with an absorbing fear, Theo was beginning to break him down.

Sapphire eyes snapped upward, sweeping up his back and for a final rest on the curve of his ear.

“Fuck,” he cursed, the terminology straining through gritted teeth. Did he know? Was Theo aware of what he was doing to him? Hersha, in all of his darkness, felt guilt for his attempt to destroy his innocence. He swallowed, feeling an icy, fear begin to raise the hairs on his arms. It came from a place that couldn’t be sourced, but the male knew somehow that it must have originated from his guest. It must have. He had never been swayed this way with anybody else before, nay even Virus, and yet, somehow, this simple boy... He enlivened him. He impacted him. He made him simultaneously feel that he was both the most sinister and cruelly despotic demonic overlord, and a small, insignificant peon that couldn’t cast a blink of darkness upon the brightest of days.

“Fuck.” The phrase plucked from him again as the humbled paranoia waged its wrath against his unwavering confidence. Theo raised his head from its humble arch, and attempted to recognize whatever was influencing Hersha. He was unsuccessful. Hersha didn’t want him to look at him. He wanted his submission, and he wanted his obedience. With a world suddenly flipped on its head, his tactics seemed to mirror the event.

“What’s wrong, angel?” he questioned sarcastically, mimicking a sweetness between lovers that was a little too perfect to have not realistically have signified a true interest by the speaker. Indeed, Hersha wasn’t mocking Theo, but his own condition. “Miss my attention already?” He allowed his lips to kiss the words into Theo’s neck. The foreigner exhaled around the gag and relaxed his stance on his toes, which inadvertently caused Hersha’s hands to move to his staff and worked to reminded the boy not to drop his heels, even now. “Don’t worry,” he whispered into the curve of his hear. It was so soft that Hersha could only imagine the challenge that the blond encountered trying to decipher what language he was using amidst the serotonin which clearly had carried him to a whole new consciousness. ‘Sub space’ it was called. Not everyone could reach it, but those who did felt a diminished capacity for pain, and a slower response time for actual injury. That was fine. The period for pain was over. Hersha was losing control over his objective decision making. He couldn’t trust himself to do it without emotion any further, and so he didn’t trust himself to do it at all. The cane stayed at their side then, silent and forgotten.

The hour passed. It dawned over them like waves upon the ocean, taking, giving, and taking again until Theo’s body slackened in his grip, and the wall dripped with his organic cream. And yet, regardless of what the hour expected from them both, Hersha still wasn't entirely through with the boy. He wouldn't be. He couldn't be. At some point throughout the night, which may have very well been the moment when he released the blond from his bindings, he had also freed his final ace from his sleeve. There was nothing left. He needed to think.

The gag was discarded somewhat carelessly behind them when he had wrapped the boy in a wool blanket, and had hoisted him into two fatigued arms. If his own muscles were in such a sorry state, he could only anticipate the numbness which shielded his guest from the pain that trembled him in his hold. Or, could it be that he was shivering? The fall from his natural high could also cause a fair tremble or two, but there wasn't much of a way to tell until after it had passed.

“Sh-Sh.” The hush broke from his lips with a rapid stutter at the top of the basement stairs. Sapphire eyes scanned the room. Theo, obliging, might have recognized that he was searching for his brother’s whereabouts of not for the exhausted nuzzle that he gave into Hersha’s shoulder. It was clear that he didn't care where they were going, and truthfully he didn't want Hersha to carry him in this way, but his arms were too dead for him to raise them much higher than his collarbone. Thankfully, Hersha hadn't solicited his opinion on the matter. He rather had released him, caught him, and wrapped him into this cocoon without much further direction. It could be that he was moving him to see Aoba, finally. It might have been to the next stage of his trial, or it could have been a dumpster. Theodore didn't care. He was thankful for the kind gesture that he received, and absorbed his body heat through the blanket like a cat in sunlight.

When deemed safe to cross the threshold of the hall, Hersha did exactly that, and managed his way to the bathroom where a tub steamed in wait. Without warning or comment otherwise, he bent at the waist and set his foreigner into it, blanket and all.

“Wwhuu—!” Theo’s eyes snapped alert, and he quickly braced himself on the tub’s rim, peeling the blanket from his skin incidentally in the process. It didn't cling, but it did give him easier traction. A quiet movement at the rim turned his head to view Hersha as he knelt down beside him. There was nothing to do but smile ever faintly. Hersha looked upset. Why? Shouldn't he, Theodore, be the miserable one? Though truthfully, he was beginning to feel pampered. The bath water was clear, clean, and warm, and it reassured him that somehow the male hadn't broken skin. After all of it, it was merely the exotic candles and sweat which made his skin bead with ruby. Oh, but that distant look of Hersha’s…

“What’s wrong?” Eyes rose to Theo’s as Hersha’s chin met the hand that rested on the rim, and so his guest’s question was answered with a soft questioning grunt. He could feel his brows slamming down over his eyes, but only halfheartedly so since he was without the true willpower to keep his strong-confidence façade up any longer. Such an abrupt realization produced a rather loud and uninvited groan from him. This evening was supposed to be about breaking Theo’s light, not shattering his own darkness. He was entirely clueless as to what had gone wrong, and something certainly had. He felt guilt about what he had done, but guilt wasn’t a normal emotion for him. It was supposed to be playtime for him. It was a chance to let his beautiful inner demons breathe the perverse air. He had long since accepted himself to be a force of darkness, so this moment of self-consciousness was absolutely surreal. His knuckle scratched his eye as he rested there under the foreigners perking gaze.
“What do you mean.” It sounded like a statement, but Theo knew better.

“Well, you look a little down.”

The host bit his tongue while a bristling prickle of heat began to crawl up his neck and dust the tips of his ears. How embarrassing. How absolutely and completely embarrassing. It was bad enough to have felt this way, unstable, unsure, and incapable, but it was another to be recognized for being that way. His teeth clamped against his inner lips. The spotlight of Theo’s attention only heated his cheeks further, and the aversion of his eyes didn’t do much to avert Theodore’s.

Theo didn't seem to mind, or, maybe he didn’t notice, and curled, facing Hersha a bit more properly. The heat rising from the water soothing. He was weightless. The serotonin had withered from him, but the lingering sensation of tranquility was pacifying. He couldn't shake the sentiment that Hersha had somehow relieved him of a great burden. His mind couldn’t focus on one thing for very long, and although he recognized that Hersha was uncomfortable, he didn’t want to dwell on it. After the intensity of what they had shared, he imagined that he was the source of that discomfort. As much as it took to accept the pain, he couldn’t imagine what sort of strength it must have required to issue it.

"I wonder," he began voicing something that he had been wondering passively, "If Wilheim feels that high, even if he can't feel the actual blows. I wonder if that's why he used to fight so often. I used to think it was because he didn't know better. I used to think it was because he wanted somebody to stop him. But,” he continued, “no one ever could.” Watching Hersha’s eyes peek up at him broadened his smile. “I'm sorry. That must have been miserable for you to have gone through. You don't even know me, but you did it anyway. You are proof of the goodness in the world, Hersha.”

The male frowned, actually disturbed, and buried his face in his forearm. Had he accidentally pushed Theo too far? Had he been focusing so much on his spirit that he overlooked his mental stamina? Had he already forgotten the speed with which the cane thrashed to him? Sapphire eyes searched the darkness behind his eyelids. Did he not remember the curl of his fingers dig into his hips when he took him? Was the prohibition of complaint such a far off fantasy to Theo now that he was enjoying the comforting bath? It couldn’t have been. Why then did Theo claim that he was he represented the good in the world? Shouldn’t he see him and surmise the opposite?

“I see that you have no idea what I'm talking about.” His guest’s voice jolted him back to reality.

“…You’re wrong, and I can’t believe that you’re still thinking about your brother,” he admitted gloomily, “This was never about your brother. This was never about Aoba. This was always about you. You, only you.” Much to his surprise, the blond nodded, and the smile, though it did fade, didn’t disappear. “Don’t you get it? I never intended to let you leave.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean you know?” He lifted his nose from his arm, and gripped the porcelain rim, “You had no fucking idea, you’re just so… so goddamn innocent!” He grunted and groaned, raking his hands through his hair. He was coming undone at the seams, fraying at the edges. It seemed that what had been done couldn’t be stopped. He felt what might have been an avalanche of emotions dragging his hands into the water to retrieve boy’s hand. It easily laced with his own, and he brought it to his lips. Even from this angle he could see the inflamed band of red that bore on his wrists like a fresh tattoo. Theodore… he wanted him to belong to him. But more than that, Hersha was beginning to realize, the reason for all of his wavering, and for all of the questioning: he wanted to belong to him as well.

Theodore was something greater than he. His forgiving nature was complex in a way that was supernaturally godlike. It wasn’t touchable. It was only admirable.

“If you say so, Hersha.” What was that supposed to mean? The host’s eyes bounced to the hands which laced with his. A pressure was increasing there: Theo was squeezing it. It wasn’t hard, or unforgiving. It was gentle, warm, and light. “If you say so. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“I think you’ve been in there long enough,” He ultimately decided, wrenching his grasp from Theo’s and pulling to a stand. “Grab a towel. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
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Carnal Catharsis