FILL: Heat: The Beast/Casey [Dubious Consent]

Date: 2017-02-15 06:15 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
He throws the last of the food to the ground; she's struggling to get away, trying to crawl, and he digs his teeth into her leg, relishing her cry as he tastes blood once more. But, he decides, he wants something else from this one, the last -- he doesn't need this last one, They are powerful and perfect already and something in him -- someone -- wants to see her pure (impure) unworthy (beautiful) bareness, exposed, helpless, he just wants to touch, that's all, just wants to see -- With a hard yank, he turns her onto her back, rips her long-sleeved shirt with a loud tearing sound like it's nothing, rips her last shirt to leave her bare and squirming beneath him, chest heaving with panicked breaths, and then he sees the raised scars decorating her skin like jewelry, like a belt. He bends to place his mouth to them, to kiss those above her hips, reverent, feeling her shaking under him, her terror palpable, her skin hot and cold at once. Her hands are free, yet she doesn't stop him. "Fear nothing," he tells her, kissing his way over her stomach, up to her breasts, to the bumped scars over her collarbone. He looks into her wide, wide eyes. "You are perfect. The broken are the more evolved."
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