wolfgang von strucker does not sparkle (fangulation) wrote in superbabies, @ 2013-06-10 18:07:00 |
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When Wolfgang dreamed, and he did often, it was never of the horrors he had worked so hard to suppress from his psyche. He tried hard to keep the nightmares out, to meditate before bed when he was angry, to drink tea and calm or to just not sleep. It worked, usually. But beneath the surface lie dormant the darkness he never wanted to sucumb to, scratching at the door to be let in.
He rose, out of his shared bed with Sophie, sleeping so delicately beside him in her cream night shift, to hover over her. Watching her breath rise and fall. Her skin had healed so nicely since time had passed, he could barely detect where his mouth had bitten through the flesh to the life below. Saliva pooled in his mouth.
Wolfgang kneeled over her, intoxicated from the sound of blood, the beat of her heart, the gentle pattern of her breathing. The smell alone infuriated him, drove him madder and madder. How long ago had it been that he had allowed himself to taste, to really taste, the succulent flavor of skin? let his teeth bite through the outer layer and lick the tattered edges and feel them heal from his spit only to rip them right back open, over and over and over. Oh! To feel flesh between his teeth and to lick up warm blood again.
A hand to cover her mouth to muffle her eventual screams. Wolfgang pressed his lips to her cheek, his sweet Sophie, always so delicious. He had always wanted to taste her again. She was orgasmic and he wanted her in him, he wanted to devour her whole. Her fear was tantalizing, delectable.
Teeth nipped nicely once, twice, then in to the muscle of her neck, crushing through the sinew, tendons, blood cascading out. Eating her was reawakening memories, he had done this before, his body knew how to do it again. Her screams and thrashings just made it better. This wasn’t just drinking her blood; he was determined to consume her whole. Sophie’s body protested strongly yet still as her blood ran freely down his throat until she grew weaker and weaker and then still. Still he devoured, still Wolfgang drank from the being fountain that once was his girlfriend.
It had been months since he allowed himself the pure joy and freedom of a human, alive and warm and so delicious that is just overwhelmed him. Filled him with giddy joy.
He wanted all of her lifeless body. He pulled open her neck, ripping through the bones of her shoulder, rib cage. Prying them apart to reveal the still heart, warm but not beating, the best part of a person. The heart held so many emotions and feelings and he wanted it. Wolfgang tore through the veins and arteries that held her heart in place to devour it, wiping the blood that clung to his hands on her scraps of nightdress, the walls.
The heart was piquant, warm, perfect. It needed a little pepper, some garlic, but nonetheless. Wolfgang straddled the lifeless body while he ate, smearing blood and tissue on his face in his haste to fill his stomach whole.
Predators always ate the intestines. Nature knew where the nutrients were stored and he did too, it was hard wired into his animalistic side. Wolfgang slid off her body, blood from her heart dripped on his pale thighs, thin boxers absorbing what he came in contact with. His lap looked like a murder scene.
Fingers for claws made tissue out of the remaining scraps, pulling apart the skin underneath. He pulled until the thin layer of fat was expose, slurping it up in ecstasy. Sophie had always been in such fine shape that her muscles were just as scrumptious: not too tough or tender but like a good filet, just right.
The casing was tough but good, he dug in with the ferocity of a wolf. Sophie had a good diet, her body was proof of that. He was eating her last meal, tasting the ingredients that overwhelmed her body, reliving the last twenty four hours through her stomach. Wolfgang savored each inch.
When he was done, he sat back and surveyed his meal. He licked the blood off his fingers, pushed back his blond hair with dirty hands. It stuck up, congealed blood acting as a wax. Sophie had been heaven, his heart surged with love for her sacrifice to his body and he grinned, dipping a finger into a pool of thickening blood. Pudding, it reminded him of pudding.
A sound by the door was distracting, he turned, he looked and saw Hakeem. Blue eyes glared and judged him, the olive tone of his skin darker in the shadows. Smoke and dust rose around his friend, a snarl on his lips.
Hakeem had told him not to eat people.
Hakeem had seen the horror he was capable of.
Hakeem had to die.
Wolfgang lurched off the bed, arms outstretched and reaching for his friend’s neck, to grab it and wrangle it, to pull his head off and drink from the fount there. To kill the evidence where it stood.
As his fingers touched cool skin, Hakeem vanished in a cloud and Wolfgang fell forward, too quick to stop, smashing into the floor.
Sophie was gone from the bed. This was not her room. This was Wolfgang’s room, the suite he shared with Lux. His bed was an arm’s length away, he fumbled and felt it, solid beneath his fingers. He was dressed in a shirt and shorts. He was alone.
But the horror was real. His arms were covered in blood to the elbows. Frantically Wolfgang turned to the mirror. Hair was clotted with red, his face painted in crimson. Sophie’s perfume hung on his shirt. Was it from before? Was it from now?
Wolfgang’s slow beating heart picked up pace and he felt trapped by the walls. They would come for him. Everything he touched left traces of blood on it. The desk, the mirror, his bed, already spotted with brown under the sheets where he had laid.
He felt delirious, how could this be? He swore he’d never hurt her and she was gone, dead. By his hand. Wolfgang panted and pawed at his face, looking for an escape, he needed out, to run, to hide. Flee the scene of the crime before they followed him.
Out the door, down the hall. They were already coming, Shay and Sean and Hakeem with his angry dust storm. The beat of Yassir’s wings against the air. Heard their shouts as he ricochet off walls in frenetic energy, chest seizing in fear as he burst through the front door. Behind him they came with their torches and pitchforks, crying for his blood.
Into the forest he went, the blaze of the torches fading in the background, deeper and deeper until he collapsed in a heap of dead leaves, shaking in horror and fear at the sins he just committed.