My bad, no pressure at all on that one, really... maybe I should not have given you the link before then.(However, I have to say that hearing this made me smile like an idiot and go all: omg, I'm so happy! Thank you soooooooo much!)
I am not sure how this one bit will come out. It's rather different I have to say. And it's 1.15 am. However, if it doesn't work out for some reason, feel free to bash me on the head with an axe. After all, my goal is to make you happy.
I just have to say that it's more violent than the other one - mainly because it starts of as Lupo wanting to exact revenge on Malfatto - because no one plays with Il Lupo, no one!
On with the fill, and I hope you'll like it, OP!
-------
His target was not far, he could sense it. Too far for him to catch its scent but close enough for him to know. Creeping across the rooftops, he made his way to a conveniently placed perch from which he had a perfect view on the busy street down there. What a stupid idea though, sending him during a festival. Even though it was nowhere as grand as Venezia's carnivale, the fact that everyone was wearing a mask did not help. At all.
A sudden move in his peripheral vision made him focus on the figure walking briskly in the street – cutting through the crowd, purposeful. Too easy – there was to be a trick. The doctor garb was too easy to fake. It was too common – he could be harmless. But he could not take any chance. He knew that man – he had seen him work. A flash of green at his belt – a full syringe. Not the kind normal doctors carried about, that much he was certain. Smirking to himself, he waited for him to turn a corner and launched himself through the evening air, down onto a cart of hay. The chase would be a short one. He did not need to go so far – just glimpsed waxed robes slipping away. A startled yelp. He could almost hear it – the sickening sound of a needle sinking into the skin. It made him smirk in a way that others often related to his namesake. He had known about the doctor for a fairly long time now – he knew his habits, his haunts – his preferred killing methods. None were pleasant for the victim. The man was getting too sure of himself. And since he had received no direct orders as to how he would have to deal with him, Il Lupo decided to go for the interesting one. He was certain someone would mock him. But alas, he had never been a courtesan and thus never was too disgusted with human contacts. If human applied to him. Which he doubted most of the time.
It was almost too easy – the good doctor slinking back to a dark alley – on the hunt for the next one. Rome had long since become a murder manufacture. It suited him just fine. Too close from his previous prey but Lupo could not care less. Blood bathes had never been a problem for him anyway – if anything, it was so normal an occurrence that it lost his previously arousing traits. He could have killed Malfatto three times and counting already – twice from the roof, and another time just as the 'practitioner' made his way in the covered space. Dropping soundlessly to the ground, he stalked nearer, too close for comfort. It was risky. He had seen him spin on his heels to jam a needle in the throat of the one after him. Cahin had just gotten extremely lucky that Malfatto had no intention of killing him at the time. Again, after weeks of watching, he had learned. However, it was just as though Malfatto had not noticed him – his whole body tensed, a sign that his target was close, rather than an indication of him seeing Il Lupo. Just as the doctor took another step forward, he struck.
His arms closed around the man's frame, his switch blade pointed at Malfatto neck. Despite the heavy waxed clothe that usually shielded his skin, the prowler knew better. It might shield him from touch, not from the blade. He could almost feel his pulse under the blade, even without applying any pressure. His deep, controlled breathing. It brought back memories from his last encounter with the doctor. Lucky that he was not facing Malfatto – he could feel heat rushing to his face – shame, anger – and perhaps, just perhaps, a remnant of hunger. He was so close to him, closer than they ever got when working – closer than himself had ever got to anyone without killing intent. He did not plan on killing Malfatto. He did not want to. He should have worried about getting a needle jammed into his side but the doctor remained absolutely still.
“Should I wish you a good evening, Lupo?” His tone was complacent, mocking. It would have sent people away but it only showed that he had let himself caught. And it irked the wolf to no end.
“What now Dottore? You don't even attack me?”
“I should be asking you what you want. Certainly, though you are ever so transparent. Always had been.”
It was meant to make him fall into his snare and get angry and the worst part was that it worked. Lupo was seething. After what the man did to him, poisoning him – forcing him to let go of his control. He hated him for this. His mind brought up the fact that it could have been worse. Malfatto could have forced him – technically, he was the one who forced himself on the man. Nevermind the poison used on him – he should have tried to resist him better. Whether or not he wanted to resist Malfatto was, however, an open question. Of course, he would never have wanted to give in to the doctor on a normal occurrence. That had not been a normal encounter, and somehow, he doubted that anything related to either of them could ever qualify as such. He did not reply to Malfatto – he grabbed him and slammed him into the wall, a hand curled around his neck.
“If so transparent I am to you... what am I going to do now?” It came as a hiss through bared teeth, the low sound threatening enough that anyone else would have cowered. Lupo guessed that his mask gave Malfatto a certain advantage – though he knew what was behind it.
“You won't kill me, obviously.”
There, he had him. Pressing against the cold, hard body of the doctor, Lupo only had to whisper a few words to send him in a panic. Malfatto was struck. He could not be serious. He could not. He had thought the effects would have worn off and that the wolf had been willing. And so he had to ask. Only to be met by stony silence. Malfatto was rarely ever worried by anything or anyone, but it was different with Il Lupo. Something about him made his heart race in anticipation and fear, and he was grateful for his mask. He had a hunch it would not last, mostly because it was not in Lupo's habit to let his victims feel comfort of any kind – that he did not intend to kill him did not alleviate the fact that he was prey. Probably he deserved it. He would certainly get back at anyone playing him or poisoning him.
A sharp sting brought Malfatto back to present – warmth traced after steel – skin not cut. His upper garb, however... no wonder Lupo's victims looked so neat some times, the cut dreadfully straight and clean. Even his sharpest blade was not that sharp. And this blade was a hair breadth from his neck – down his clavicle, finishing to cut off the garment. Held in place only by his hat and mask. As though reading his thoughts, the hat went off, just as a hand snaked behind his head. He could have hurt the wolf, the blade too close to a vital vein for him to move. He was so close, he could have kissed him – he had kissed him. His mask made it hard to see but even so he could see the anger – the starving rage in his cold eyes. In his mind flashed recollections from this very same face contorted in the throes of pain and pleasure. He had been so lovely.
A sudden move, he closed his eyes, his face suddenly whipped by the cooling air. He opened them slowly, only to fall on the impassive features of the prowler. His mask laid on the ground, unneeded. It was a strange feeling, to be fully clothed but naked at the same time and he had to wonder. When was the last time he went to the streets without wearing his mask? Not so much since he had taken his vows as a doctor, which was quite a long time prior. Cold metal moved to his cheek, forcing his face to the side. He could not see him properly, peripheral vision not enough for him to know for sure. However, the growing pressure against his upper body clearly indicated at the the prowler was leaning closer to him.
What was his real name? Did he have any? He had to scoff at this. He was stuck between a killer, a blade and a wall and he wonders about surnames? Surely he was not as sane as he would have thought he was. Probably even less that some of his colleagues would think. His hair stood on ends when he felt the hot breath of Lupo on his ear and neck. “Not so sure anymore, Dottore? You didn't act so coy when I was at your mercy... Is it the role reversal, perhaps?” The blade shifted lower, briefly nicking his jaw before sliding down the waxed overcoat. And stopping. “Or something else entirely?”
“Ever the gentleman, giving me a way out.” Maybe it was not the wisest thing to do. Taunting a man capable of slicing pretty much anything into bits was risky. Doing so when they hold a blade so close to his genitals – and femoral arteries – was pricelessly dumb. He was not surprised when Lupo emphasized this last point and he could not repress a shudder. And the totally inappropriate wave of arousal that coursed through his lower body. Stupid biology.
FILL: Mindless Craving 1/
I am not sure how this one bit will come out. It's rather different I have to say. And it's 1.15 am. However, if it doesn't work out for some reason, feel free to bash me on the head with an axe. After all, my goal is to make you happy.
I just have to say that it's more violent than the other one - mainly because it starts of as Lupo wanting to exact revenge on Malfatto - because no one plays with Il Lupo, no one!
On with the fill, and I hope you'll like it, OP!
-------
His target was not far, he could sense it. Too far for him to catch its scent but close enough for him to know. Creeping across the rooftops, he made his way to a conveniently placed perch from which he had a perfect view on the busy street down there. What a stupid idea though, sending him during a festival. Even though it was nowhere as grand as Venezia's carnivale, the fact that everyone was wearing a mask did not help. At all.
A sudden move in his peripheral vision made him focus on the figure walking briskly in the street – cutting through the crowd, purposeful. Too easy – there was to be a trick. The doctor garb was too easy to fake. It was too common – he could be harmless. But he could not take any chance. He knew that man – he had seen him work. A flash of green at his belt – a full syringe. Not the kind normal doctors carried about, that much he was certain. Smirking to himself, he waited for him to turn a corner and launched himself through the evening air, down onto a cart of hay.
The chase would be a short one. He did not need to go so far – just glimpsed waxed robes slipping away. A startled yelp. He could almost hear it – the sickening sound of a needle sinking into the skin. It made him smirk in a way that others often related to his namesake. He had known about the doctor for a fairly long time now – he knew his habits, his haunts – his preferred killing methods. None were pleasant for the victim.
The man was getting too sure of himself. And since he had received no direct orders as to how he would have to deal with him, Il Lupo decided to go for the interesting one. He was certain someone would mock him. But alas, he had never been a courtesan and thus never was too disgusted with human contacts. If human applied to him. Which he doubted most of the time.
It was almost too easy – the good doctor slinking back to a dark alley – on the hunt for the next one. Rome had long since become a murder manufacture. It suited him just fine. Too close from his previous prey but Lupo could not care less. Blood bathes had never been a problem for him anyway – if anything, it was so normal an occurrence that it lost his previously arousing traits. He could have killed Malfatto three times and counting already – twice from the roof, and another time just as the 'practitioner' made his way in the covered space. Dropping soundlessly to the ground, he stalked nearer, too close for comfort. It was risky. He had seen him spin on his heels to jam a needle in the throat of the one after him. Cahin had just gotten extremely lucky that Malfatto had no intention of killing him at the time. Again, after weeks of watching, he had learned. However, it was just as though Malfatto had not noticed him – his whole body tensed, a sign that his target was close, rather than an indication of him seeing Il Lupo. Just as the doctor took another step forward, he struck.
His arms closed around the man's frame, his switch blade pointed at Malfatto neck. Despite the heavy waxed clothe that usually shielded his skin, the prowler knew better. It might shield him from touch, not from the blade. He could almost feel his pulse under the blade, even without applying any pressure. His deep, controlled breathing. It brought back memories from his last encounter with the doctor. Lucky that he was not facing Malfatto – he could feel heat rushing to his face – shame, anger – and perhaps, just perhaps, a remnant of hunger. He was so close to him, closer than they ever got when working – closer than himself had ever got to anyone without killing intent. He did not plan on killing Malfatto. He did not want to. He should have worried about getting a needle jammed into his side but the doctor remained absolutely still.
“Should I wish you a good evening, Lupo?” His tone was complacent, mocking. It would have sent people away but it only showed that he had let himself caught. And it irked the wolf to no end.
“What now Dottore? You don't even attack me?”
“I should be asking you what you want. Certainly, though you are ever so transparent. Always had been.”
It was meant to make him fall into his snare and get angry and the worst part was that it worked. Lupo was seething. After what the man did to him, poisoning him – forcing him to let go of his control. He hated him for this. His mind brought up the fact that it could have been worse. Malfatto could have forced him – technically, he was the one who forced himself on the man. Nevermind the poison used on him – he should have tried to resist him better. Whether or not he wanted to resist Malfatto was, however, an open question. Of course, he would never have wanted to give in to the doctor on a normal occurrence. That had not been a normal encounter, and somehow, he doubted that anything related to either of them could ever qualify as such. He did not reply to Malfatto – he grabbed him and slammed him into the wall, a hand curled around his neck.
“If so transparent I am to you... what am I going to do now?” It came as a hiss through bared teeth, the low sound threatening enough that anyone else would have cowered. Lupo guessed that his mask gave Malfatto a certain advantage – though he knew what was behind it.
“You won't kill me, obviously.”
There, he had him. Pressing against the cold, hard body of the doctor, Lupo only had to whisper a few words to send him in a panic. Malfatto was struck. He could not be serious. He could not. He had thought the effects would have worn off and that the wolf had been willing. And so he had to ask. Only to be met by stony silence. Malfatto was rarely ever worried by anything or anyone, but it was different with Il Lupo. Something about him made his heart race in anticipation and fear, and he was grateful for his mask. He had a hunch it would not last, mostly because it was not in Lupo's habit to let his victims feel comfort of any kind – that he did not intend to kill him did not alleviate the fact that he was prey. Probably he deserved it. He would certainly get back at anyone playing him or poisoning him.
A sharp sting brought Malfatto back to present – warmth traced after steel – skin not cut. His upper garb, however... no wonder Lupo's victims looked so neat some times, the cut dreadfully straight and clean. Even his sharpest blade was not that sharp. And this blade was a hair breadth from his neck – down his clavicle, finishing to cut off the garment. Held in place only by his hat and mask. As though reading his thoughts, the hat went off, just as a hand snaked behind his head. He could have hurt the wolf, the blade too close to a vital vein for him to move. He was so close, he could have kissed him – he had kissed him. His mask made it hard to see but even so he could see the anger – the starving rage in his cold eyes. In his mind flashed recollections from this very same face contorted in the throes of pain and pleasure. He had been so lovely.
A sudden move, he closed his eyes, his face suddenly whipped by the cooling air. He opened them slowly, only to fall on the impassive features of the prowler. His mask laid on the ground, unneeded. It was a strange feeling, to be fully clothed but naked at the same time and he had to wonder. When was the last time he went to the streets without wearing his mask? Not so much since he had taken his vows as a doctor, which was quite a long time prior. Cold metal moved to his cheek, forcing his face to the side. He could not see him properly, peripheral vision not enough for him to know for sure. However, the growing pressure against his upper body clearly indicated at the the prowler was leaning closer to him.
What was his real name? Did he have any? He had to scoff at this. He was stuck between a killer, a blade and a wall and he wonders about surnames? Surely he was not as sane as he would have thought he was. Probably even less that some of his colleagues would think. His hair stood on ends when he felt the hot breath of Lupo on his ear and neck. “Not so sure anymore, Dottore? You didn't act so coy when I was at your mercy... Is it the role reversal, perhaps?” The blade shifted lower, briefly nicking his jaw before sliding down the waxed overcoat. And stopping. “Or something else entirely?”
“Ever the gentleman, giving me a way out.” Maybe it was not the wisest thing to do. Taunting a man capable of slicing pretty much anything into bits was risky. Doing so when they hold a blade so close to his genitals – and femoral arteries – was pricelessly dumb. He was not surprised when Lupo emphasized this last point and he could not repress a shudder. And the totally inappropriate wave of arousal that coursed through his lower body. Stupid biology.