I've always been fascinated by him. Vincent. There's something about the way his skin pales like ivory, the way it bruises so beautifully under my touch. I never thought I'd be the kind of man to obsess over someone's skin, but here I am, tracing every imperfection on his flesh like it's a masterpiece made just for me. His skin tells me stories-stories of how delicate, how fragile he really is.
I can't help but love how expressive his eyes are, those dark depths that once pierced me with coldness, now filled with something else. Fear, maybe. But I prefer to call it attention. He can't look away when I'm near. Not anymore. It's the way his eyelids flutter when I press against him, when I hover just close enough for him to feel my breath on his neck. Those little gasps, they do things to me. His chest rising and falling as he anticipates what comes next-it's intoxicating.
I love the sounds he makes. God, the sounds. The whimpers, the hitched breaths, the stifled screams. At first, he tried to stay quiet, but now... now he gives me everything. Every sound, every tremor. I can't get enough of it. I crave it, the way he shivers when I touch him, the way he tenses when I lean in close, when I press into him just hard enough for him to know I'm in control. He knows there's no escape, and yet, he reacts so perfectly. So beautifully.
His body-his body is a work of art. So responsive, so vulnerable. Every flinch, every twitch beneath my fingers is like a symphony, one only I get to hear. I know every inch of him now. Every scar, every bruise. I've marked him, claimed him in ways no one else ever could. When I push him to the brink, when I hold him there, trembling and exposed, it's like nothing else in the world exists. It's just us. Just him and me. His body, my hands, the way he struggles beneath me-it's perfect.
He's so much quieter now. At first, he would scream, fight, beg for it to stop. But I never stopped. I couldn't. Not when I needed him so much, not when I craved the way his body responded to everything I did. Now, he just gasps. His voice cracks sometimes, barely a whisper, and it sends shivers through me. It's like he's giving me a piece of himself every time he lets out one of those soft, broken sounds.
I wish I could say I hate him. I wish I could say I despise him for what he did to Manon. For what he took from me. I should want to kill him, to end him for what he's done. But I don't. I can't. Because, in truth, I need him. I need to feel his pulse against my fingers, his warmth under my hands. I need to know that I have him, that he's mine, fully and completely. He's all I have left, now that she's gone.
It's strange, isn't it? How love and hate can twist together so tightly, so seamlessly. I should hate him for the way he ruined everything. For how he took her from me. But instead, I find myself obsessed with him. With the way he moves, the way he breathes, the way he looks at me with those wide, terrified eyes. He's beautiful in his suffering, in the way he trembles beneath me. I tell myself that this is love. That I'm doing this because I love him. But maybe... maybe it's something else.
Maybe I just like watching him squirm.
His skin is so pale now. He's not eating much. I can tell. His body's weaker, more delicate, and it excites me in ways I can't explain. I run my fingers down his arms, over the bruises, the cuts, the marks I've left. His muscles twitch beneath my touch, and I smile, knowing that he can't do anything about it. He's mine. Completely. Utterly. Mine.
And when I press the knife to his skin, just lightly, just enough for him to feel the sharpness, I hear that delicious intake of breath. That tiny gasp that tells me everything. He's scared. He's terrified. But he's still here. Still breathing. Still mine.
It's almost funny. How I once thought I'd never touch him, never want him like this. But now, I can't stop. I can't stop wanting him, needing him, craving every little reaction he gives me. It's not enough to make him hurt. I need to make him *feel*. I need him to know that I'm the only one who matters now. That he's nothing without me.
