#also I wrote most of this in the walmart auto care center lmao

[cowboyemeritus]

thinking about, uh, enrichment activities

cw: predator/prey

You tuck yourself behind a boulder, gasping for air. Trying to listen for your pursuer is useless; he can tear through the forest without making a single sound. Your heart races, pounding in your ears like a stampede of cattle, as you allow yourself this shortest moment of reprieve. You’ll have to get up soon. With how you’re sweating buckets already, there’s no doubt he can smell you from miles away.

Heaving a sigh, you force yourself to stand. Your legs already feel dangerously tight, the muscles screaming for a break. Without a doubt they’ll be even worse tomorrow, so saturated with lactic acid you’ll barely be able to walk.

You’ll be bedridden for a multitude of reasons, but at the moment, that’s neither here nor there.

A twig snaps, and a primal pulse of fear runs down your spine. It could be anything, but you get the distinct feeling that it’s him fucking with you. Though he may be nearby, you know the game is nowhere close to being over. You can’t have been at this for more than a half hour, and he enjoys the thrill of the chase just as much as the “kill” at its end.

It takes some coaxing, but eventually you’re able to force yourself to start running again. Your legs, your lungs — everything fucking hurts. But you know he’ll make it worth your while when this is over. He always does.

Secondo controls his urges well enough. It’s something he’s worked hard to achieve, suffering through years of trial and error, of pain and self-hatred. Though his bloodlust is nowhere near as intense as it once was, every so often, the predator instinct rears its ugly head. The desire to hunt, he’s said, is like an itch, all-consuming and impossible to repress. The only way to keep this impulse in check is to indulge it before it gets out of hand, in a controlled environment with a willing participant. That’s where you come in.

Is it dangerous? Absolutely. But you love Secondo and trust him implicitly.

And you’d be lying to yourself if you said the whole ordeal, from the chase to the thorough fucking afterwards, wasn’t extremely hot.

What would your peasant ancestors say if they saw you like this, letting your vampire boyfriend hunt you for sport? You suppose it doesn’t really matter; they’re all dead and you’re here, right-fucking-now, trying very very hard not to break an ankle.

At this point, you’ve ventured so far into the woods that you can’t recognize your surroundings at all. It’s disorienting to say the least, and that animal part of your brain goes wild, desperately searching for a landmark of some kind. Still, you keep running. You would just hate to be a buzz-kill. The clouds break, the light of the full moon illuminating the forest. The trees cast long, black shadows, confusing the terrain even more. It makes it all the more difficult to navigate, unsure of what’s an obstacle and what’s not.

Your foot catches on a fallen tree branch. You stumble, but manage to keep yourself upright. When you look back up, ready to keep charging forward, your heart nearly stops. Directly ahead, no more than five yards away, looms a dark figure. The shadows seem to bend around him, keeping his features obscured. You gasp, backpedaling a few steps before turning to run in the opposite direction.

You slam into a hard body. It knocks the wind out of you, but before you can even try to breathe Secondo is on you, sinking his fangs into your neck. With the adrenaline coursing through your veins like poison, you can barely feel him puncturing the skin. Your beloved groans as your blood coats his tongue, shuddering as he takes a long pull. He gulps you down like he hasn’t had a meal in years, and though the sound of it is a little gross, you’re morbidly fascinated by it. You wonder just how much he could take from you before your life is in danger. The thought of it, of how much power he holds over you, has got whatever blood you have left traveling straight to your core.

Already you’re dizzy. Your knees buckle and he sinks to the forest floor with you, holding you tight to him. He’s as affected by this as you are, cock straining through the fabric of his pants. You try to grind against him, but the combination of exhaustion and blood loss makes it difficult to do anything other than moan and whimper weakly. Secondo seems to get the memo, though, a strong hand coming to your waist. His fingers, perpetually cold, hook under the waistband of your running shorts and underwear, tugging the garments down. He finds your clit immediately, drawing tight circles around the bundle of nerves, quickly working you into a delirium. It’s all so much at once, it doesn’t take long for you to fall over the edge, your vision getting fuzzy.

Secondo finally detaches from your neck as you come down. His lips are stained red with your blood, trails of it running down his chin. He’s a mess, paints smeared and eyes blow out as he lays you down on the leaves, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. He kisses you, the taste of iron filling your mouth when his tongue bullies itself past your lips. Then you feel the hardness of him against you, prodding at the apex of your thighs. Secondo takes his cock in hand and grunts as he gives himself a few strokes. Drunk on your blood and the satisfaction of a good hunt, he says nothing as he finally pushes inside you. All you can do is cry out, deliciously overstimulated and reeling, though the night is far from over.

Oh, the things you do for love.