Intangible.

"It's torturous, not being able to fuck you senseless."

He ghosts the cool barrel of his pistol across the length of his middle finger, eyes fixated on his movements. His thumb caresses the safety lock affectionately, perhaps even lovingly.

He seems to be contemplating something.

"It's like this insatiable hunger, and all that's ever on my mind anymore is fulfilling it."

His eyes are swarming with a myriad of conflicting emotions. Lust, anger, desperation, frustration. He fixates all of it on the gun.

His once steady grip becomes one of shaking. His knuckles turn white and his smirk widens to become almost psychotic.

"There's so many fucking things i want- no, NEED to do to you. But how am i supposed to do that when you're intangible?"