Craving

{Materialising onto the Penthouse balcony to the backdrop of the pulsing Caldwell city lights, the night so much warmer here than up in the Adirondacks where I left Tory with the twins. The cold breath exhaled from my lungs condensing into a plume of vapor. Hot air meeting cold... goddamn, like that's not a recipe for a fucking tornado, true...and fuck, but something inside of me is all stirred up, a fire in the blood, born of frustration and unexpended sexual energy, heightened by the sultry, electrically charged, summer atmosphere, the frisson of returning here to the Penthouse, where it all began... raking a hand through my hair, shame knotting a tight coil my gut, loathe to acknowledge that it actually feels good to break free from the endless feed-change-sleep-repeat routine with the young and the constant chafe of feeling like a piece of shit SOB for making demands on Tory that, despite a stoic front, she is clearly too bone tired and caught up with the twins to meet. No amount of punishing my body in the gym or gutting lessers taking the edge off this major case of the goddamn frustrates. Wound so damn tight, last time I stood behind her something snapped. Fuck I'd been ready to just slam her up against the wall, cheek to cold plaster and fuck her senseless, right there, willing or not, with the young crying for attention in the next room. Scrubbing a gloved hand down my face. Thank fuck Tory didn't see the expression in my eyes... feral, animal, out of control. And so I wind up here, alone, full circle, needing to do... something... to release the pressure. Diamond gaze dropping to the steel toes of my shitkickers, planted right on the scorched mark where she ashed my little black book...shit... Lids closing as I palm the flat of a gloved hand over the nape of my neck... very fucking inconvenient, true, this was going to create...complications. The services I require... specialist, underground shit, true, not the kind of contacts you keep on your speed dial friends list...lifting my head, diamond eyes narrowed as my feet take me to the glass sliders and into the Penthouse}


{Willing the glass sliders to part, black candles flaring to life, casting pools of light around the huge black cathedral of an open plan room, studiously avoiding the mess of black silk on Tory's and my mated bed, where her scent lingers still, shitkickers eating up the distance to the statement piece of furniture that dominates the room. The rack, with its coordinated backdrop wall of toys. Sucking in a breath. Fuck. Nothing says home sweet home like a hard-core BDSM set up and the scent of old candle wax, true. Letting my hands run over the wooden surface, familiar as an old friend, the rough edges polished smooth with the patina of blood and wax and sex...not unlike myself, I guess you could say, but fuck I had some rough edges right about now. Trailing my fingers over the wall of whips and floggers, the flails running through my fingers, chains and clamps, leather masks, barbed and studded, calculated to elicit just the right amount of pain and fear, a master at knowing just how much they needed. That was the reason they came to me. So many memories here....but only one replays in my brain, over and over...Tory, gripping the wooden sides of the rack while I carved my name in her skin, and after, the cheeks of her ass mashed into the hard wood, my fangs buried deep in her throat as I pounded my release inside of her. Not fucking helping, V. Slowly pushing boundaries with Tory, opening the release valve on the demons of her past, exploring the knife edges of control and trust.. I could see the direction our relationship would have taken. She, the perfect foil to my needs, me the key to freedom from a toxic past. But that was before she carried our young, true and somehow shit got derailed. Centuries of control, release on demand, a gourmet, à la carte menu of depravity just a call away. There was no internal switch you could just flick to turn that shit off... reaching out my gloved hand to take hold of one of the leather binds ... yeah, derailed.. not like Tory and I would be getting our freak on here, with the young looking on, a peanut gallery of cute, gurgling innocence. Happy fucking families. Not. Story of my life. Who was I kidding, we couldn't even pull off the straight vanilla shit right now. So something has gotta give and there is nothing..nothing.. I won't do to get my future with Tory back on track, even if it means trolling Zerosum to get what I need to get this shit back under control.....}