𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act xxxiii ❞

⎡ act xxxiii - feeling ⎦

┊❝ I really want to do it again ❞┊

── DYLAN didn't know what it was about (Y/N) that he liked, but whatever it was, it made him seek her out nonetheless. Obviously, at first, he was just fucking around with her because he could, finding how altruistic she had been trying to be amusing to the point whenever he thought about it, he wanted to burst out laughing.

Was that the kind of effect she had?

He certainly believed it.

The thrill of seeing how much she loathed him yet feared him at the same time was a sweet and succulent combination that he couldn't get enough of, and eventually, even he realized that he was becoming addicted to the feeling.

Ian saw it, too.

Maybe it was because he was so similar to Dylan that he also craved for (Y/N).

The ability to so break a person like they did (Y/N) was an intoxicating power trip, especially since obtaining her was such a tantalizing notion due to her rather naughty tendencies of drifting away from them. They could see how hard she clawed against the current to try and escape them—perhaps it was also her desperation that Dylan so absolutely found amusing.

She never gave up.

Even in the darkest moments, she tried.

Dylan liked having a little toy that he could spin around and around without ever tiring of it, and he saw that quality within (Y/N). She just kept twirling and twirling even as he closed his hand around her, trying to reach the small pockets of light that she could still see.

Oh, how she tried.

Dylan would make sure to snuff out said light sources, though.

She had no need for them.

To fill (Y/N) so full with his darkness, he would ensure of her corruption which would never allow for her to reach that light. He would keep her bound to him with that, shackling her to the floor on her knees in front of him, only ever permitted to look up to him and only him. He would be the only thing in her eyes, as she was the only one in his. Keeping her right in the palm of his hand, caging her there, he would divulge in her entertainment until death.

Pressing his fingers to his lips, replaying the moment he kissed (Y/N), Dylan smirked.

Her lips are soft.

And so... enthralling.

Currently, he was sitting at the dining table within his mansion, a full course meal spread before him that was as delectable as food could come. Of course, he had no appetite for any such pickings, his mind so consumed with the thought of (Y/N) that one might think she were his feast instead. He didn't think he'd mind such an idea, already able to picture her naked body stretched out across his bed with that hateful look brimming within her eyes despite her lust-filled expression.

If he could, he'd devour her.

Dylan was known for becoming far too attached far too quickly, smothering what he adored until they suffocated. With (Y/N), he wanted to break her before remolding her into someone that only he could ever possess.

Then, she would completely be his.

She would only be his.

Never before did he feel the need to have someone so badly as he did in that moment with (Y/N). When he had her in his arms, he felt as if the very air had been stolen from his lungs from how deliciously right it felt. When he looked at her, she was really the only thing in sight because he would rather shoot himself dead than ever tear his gaze away. It was a truth that ran through his very veins that he knew: he wanted to corrupt her, but she had already corrupted him with a look, with a touch, with a kiss.

Everything but her was trivial.

Anyone but her was a faceless blight.

For the first time, Dylan knew that this feeling—this yearning, this desire, this wanting—was what it meant to be alive.

Chuckling, a deep and sinister sound that wrapped the hallways of the manor in an oppressive air, Dylan leaned back in his chair with a grin that seemed to stretch across his entire face, curved eyes, and flushed cheeks. All he could ever want or hope for was (Y/N) now, as she was the only one who could make this disgustingly electric feeling course through his body like a buzz.

He felt high.

High enough to bound (Y/N) in rope, throw her in his car, and abscond with her.

Perhaps slaughter a few people, too.

His eyes darkened.

Like that fucking friend group of hers...

Or like that BASTARD Sawyer who thinks he can talk to (Y/N) when she is MINE.

"You look as if you want to kill someone," Ian hummed towards Dylan as he walked into the room with a book in his hand, his thumb in between the pages to mark his spot. "Or have you already done that and I need to hide a body?"

"The former," Dylan scowled, watching as Ian sat down across from him.

"I'm disappointed."

"You won't be for long."

Ian raised a brow at that, intrigued.

"I'm thinking of permanently getting rid of Shariah, Sawyer, and those other fuckers that she hangs around," Dylan continued as he leaned forward, his eyes boring into Ian's own. "Suspension is too good for them. I've come to a realization today that nothing else should occupy her mind but me. No... but us. Don't you agree?"

"Certainly," Ian hummed, his fingers twitching upon mention of (Y/N). "But... what happened that's making you say this now?"

"I tasted (Y/N)," Dylan snickered as he licked his lips, enjoying the way Ian stiffened at that little bit of information, his entire body tensing making it was too obvious of the envy swirling like a dark mass in his mind. "And she was so fucking sweet."

"Is she?" Ian scowled.

Envy curled so very deeply within him.

"Oh, she is," he bit his lip at the heated memory. "I really want to do it again."

__________________________________

To be continued...