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It's arriving in a wave of violence, it's arriving with a loving embrace
Everything is fine. Everything should be fine, so everything is fine. That's what he's been telling himself. But it gets a little harder on the nights he wakes up tasting wet copper. Gets even harder when he understands that they aren't bad dreams.
This has always been about letting a dark part of himself out to play, going somewhere he really can't, not with anyone else, not with anyone willing. In that much, he supposes, there's always been an element of tension relieved, of release in the most primal sense. But now he's finding a new level of reassurance in the steady, even blows that pound a deep flush into Dean's upper back, the rhythm of the crop, the way it soothes. They're close to blood, though he hasn't gone anywhere near as hard as that first night and doesn't plan to, and tonight he thinks it might soothe him even more if he saw some.
In fact, yes.
He lays the crop down and picks up the knife, fingering the blade. It looks like a tongue of flame in the dim light, and for just a moment he's back there, deep in it, the pure dark and ash and the bloody fire and the simplicity of killing, and he's dragged face to face with how appealing it all is.
God, you are so fucked up.
Well. Yeah.
This has always been about letting a dark part of himself out to play, going somewhere he really can't, not with anyone else, not with anyone willing. In that much, he supposes, there's always been an element of tension relieved, of release in the most primal sense. But now he's finding a new level of reassurance in the steady, even blows that pound a deep flush into Dean's upper back, the rhythm of the crop, the way it soothes. They're close to blood, though he hasn't gone anywhere near as hard as that first night and doesn't plan to, and tonight he thinks it might soothe him even more if he saw some.
In fact, yes.
He lays the crop down and picks up the knife, fingering the blade. It looks like a tongue of flame in the dim light, and for just a moment he's back there, deep in it, the pure dark and ash and the bloody fire and the simplicity of killing, and he's dragged face to face with how appealing it all is.
God, you are so fucked up.
Well. Yeah.