Broken(klamon)

failed attempt part one

It's been months since Damon and Brady made their deal, and their arrangement evolved into a twisted form of intimacy. Damon found himself tangled in an increasingly complex web of lust, manipulation, and control. They had been having sex almost every day, but as time passed, Damon couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in Brady's demeanor. Brady had grown softer in his touches, less aggressive than when they first started. Damon could see the cracks forming in Brady's hardened exterior, a sign that his plan was working.

Yet, despite this small victory, the satisfaction Damon should have felt was tainted. He still saw Brady as just another obstacle, just another pawn in his larger game. The sex was nowhere near as earth-shattering as Damon had once experienced. Damon had been with people, vampires, who could make his undead body tremble and leave him comatose for hours. Brady didn't even come close. There was a time, not long ago, when Damon would have laughed at how inadequate Brady was in comparison to lovers he'd taken over his centuries of existence.

And then, there was the night that changed everything.

Eight days ago, Brady had uttered the words Damon had been waiting for. In the middle of their heated encounter, as Brady's body shuddered with orgasm, he had whispered into Damon's ear, "I love you." Damon didn't realize how deeply those words would affect him. They pierced through his carefully constructed facade, and for a fleeting moment, Damon allowed himself to bask in the intimacy, to let go of the relentless need for control. He came with such force that it left him trembling, mind blown not from Brady's touch but from the power of those three words.

But the high didn't last. When Brady came down from his orgasm and realized what he had confessed, the walls slammed back into place. Brady's expression had hardened, and without a word, he stormed out of the room, leaving Damon alone, naked and vulnerable, his mind reeling. Damon had achieved his goal; he had made Brady fall for him, but the taste of victory was bitter. Brady's absence over the following days weighed on Damon more than he cared to admit.

Instead of the usual routine, Taylor sent others to torment Damon in Brady's place. Each day was a blur of agony, of being beaten and starved, and yet Damon held on, waiting for Brady's return. Even Taylor had come personally to deliver his own brand of sadistic pleasure, fucking Damon so brutally that his spine snapped under the pressure. Damon was left broken, unable to move, staring blankly at the ceiling as hours passed in silence.

And then Brady came back.

Damon's heart leaped with relief when he saw him. He was sure Brady would help him, would ease the pain and offer him the solace of his blood. But when Brady snapped his spine back into place, the cold look in his eyes sent a chill down Damon's spine.

"Thank you," Damon whispered, his voice hoarse, unaware of what was about to unfold.

That night, Brady's rage exploded with a violence Damon hadn't anticipated. Brady tore into Damon with a fury that made all their previous encounters seem gentle. Damon tried to make it better for both of them, tried to soften the edges of the brutality with moans and whispered words of encouragement, but Brady wasn't having it. He was lost to his rage, stabbing Damon's body with wooden stakes, ignoring his screams and pleas.

Damon was helpless.

It was a night that broke something inside of Damon. As Brady raped him with brutal force, ignoring the blood that coated the bed, Damon stopped fighting. He stopped hoping. He lay there, limp and shattered, wishing for death. For the first time in centuries, Damon realized he had nothing left. His plan had worked, but the cost was too high. He had underestimated the monster that lurked inside Brady, a monster that had now consumed him whole.

By morning, Damon was no longer the same. He had given up. Where there was once a glimmer of defiance, a spark of rebellion, there was now only numbness. He had survived countless tortures in his long life, but this... this was different. Brady had taken something from him that Damon wasn't sure he could ever get back.

Damon's only solace was the knowledge that, in a twisted way, he had succeeded. Brady had confessed his love, but now, that love had turned into a weapon, something that Brady wielded with deadly precision. Damon knew that whatever came next would be worse, much worse, and yet he felt nothing.