Shaun thought it might make him jealous, the way he sometimes got that pang in his chest when he saw embracing couples leaving bars and clubs. He’d imagined pulling the nameless couples apart and taking the place of whichever person he considered less desirable, less deserving of lust and affection, inserting himself between them and ousting the other to take what he wrongly believed he had earned instead.
But watching Rake and DJ only made him yearn to be a part of it.
A part ofthem.
Shaun didn’t want to see the couple torn apart like the others he’d imagined. No, Shaun wanted to crush them together, to push them closer than ever. He wanted to be there right along with them, between them and beside them and having them surround him.
The ache Shaun felt for the couple was worse than any manic hunger pang or bloodlust. It was stronger than the intense depression he’d gone through when Lawrence took everything and everyone from him. Deeper than the hatred that burned inside of Shaun for his creator, or that twisted part of him that was unwillingly devoted to the monster who’d stolen his life and made it his own.
But Rake and DJ were an unobtainable dream. Lawrence’s hooks were embedded deep, and he had no intention of letting Shaun go.
It didn’t matter that Rake’s dark eyes had met Shaun’sacross the club floor that night, intense and deliberate, a silent invitation Shaun couldn’t accept.
It didn’t matter that DJ’s hand had enveloped Shaun’s own and, just for a moment, he’d thought DJ might hold on forever.
And it especially didn’t matter that Shaunwantedthe two of them more than he’d ever wanted anything before.
Shaun moved closer to the flat, taking a cursory look around. Gripping the stonework, he climbed up to the second floor, grabbing onto a convenient iron bracket. He guessed it was designed to hold a hanging basket, but it also worked well as a handhold for twink vampires to dangle from whilst peeking through windows.
Like. A. Creep.
Shaun was being driven by his instincts, reduced to a primitive, inhuman desire to covet what he couldn’t have. As an only child, he’d been given all he demanded from a young age. He’d been a needy kid, and it hadn’t been until years later that Shaun had become used to the idea that you couldn’t always get what you wanted.
But,oh, how he found himself wanting something now.
DJ lay curled up on the sofa in the open-plan kitchen and living room. The TV was on, but DJ’s eyes kept drooping shut. He snuggled further under the blanket Rake had tucked around him before going to the kitchen. The kettle began to boil, and teaspoons clattered on the countertop as Rake fetched what he needed.
Shaun shifted on the sill, spying Rake’s back as he reached up to a high shelf and pulled down a packet of biscuits. Rake took his time to lay the biscuits out in a precise pattern ona small plate which matched the mug he made the tea in. It appeared to be a ritual of sorts, Rake moving seamlessly through the steps. Shaun imagined Rake did this every time they got home from the club.
Rake clearly doted on DJ, and who wouldn’t? DJ was everything someone like Shaun wanted to be: fearless in his expressions and revelling in his submission.
Rake brought the steaming mug and biscuits over to DJ, placing them on the coffee table before settling himself on the sofa. DJ made the most of his boyfriend’s presence, leaning close up against him as he cradled the mug in his hands.
It was so simple, so domestic, so perfect.
And so out of reach.
Shaun pushed off the wall and dropped to the ground on silent feet. Luckily, the couple lived on a short, quiet road. It made it easy to avoid prying eyes as he strolled back to Lawrence’s.
The longer Shaun took, the more trouble he’d be in, but he didn’t mind. The sun would be up soon and, this time, Shaun had no desire to meet it. He wanted to hold that last image of Rake and DJ in his head for as long as possible.
He took the collar off the second he got in the door, hanging it on the hook as usual. He’d left it looser that night than how Lawrence would fasten it, but it wasn’t until his throat was bare that he felt the lack of constriction.
“Where have you been?” Lawrence’s question wasn’t surprising.
What did surprise Shaun, however, was his own response. “I went hunting in the park,” he said. A bare-faced lie.
Lawrence appeared on the stairs. “If you were hunting,then why did you not bring me back any food?”
Shaun still reeled from his successful lie, yet managed to scrounge up another. “I didn’t find anyone to your taste.”
Lawrence harrumphed, but seemed to accept the excuse. “You’re still late. I don’t recall permitting you to leave the house at all. Belt, cane or whip?”
Shaun followed Lawrence as he moved into the living room. “Whatever you think I deserve, Master,” he replied with only the slightest hint of reluctance. It was the tightrope he balanced on every time he spoke with Lawrence.
Too much unwillingness, and Lawrence would punish him harder for it. Too much enthusiasm, and Lawrence would double down on the pain to make sure his message sunk in.
“We haven’t had the cane out for a while, have we, pet?”
