A Trip To Frozen Hell. [Finished]

[Anonymous]

Not the reaction he'd been aiming for. Of course him going harder and bruising his legs was something Jaks had planned on, but the touches and kiss didn't faze him. The elf tilted his head back, still breathing heavily, his chest heaving he let go of S'ric but his fingers were still curled, head tilted to the side so S'ric could leak at his neck. It stung. The licks didn't feel good or send shivers at all.

Jaks was physically numb.

But his brain was still on high wire and his green eyes watched S'ric. What to do. Jaks didn't want to die, but he couldn't think of any way to leave without freezing to death or – The missions. Jaks froze, letting out a soft cry of pain when S'ric moved away from him and his feet were moved into the cold snow again. Confused noises left Jaks throat when S'ric pulled off the remnants of his shirt and coat and offered up his jacket.

Great.

Juuuust fucking great.

First he practically bites a chunk out of his neck, then he rapes him in an alley, and now he was offering his coat. Way to screw with my head, Jaks thought bitterly before gently taking the coat and putting it on, the sleeves were too long and the waist of it hovered past his butt, but Jaks bent down all the same to put his pants on, hissing with pain when he fastened them and bent over again to put on his boots.

He felt dirty.

Jaks kept the coat closed, it was delightfully warm and Jaks concentrated on that while his neck, legs, and ass stung. The sleeves fell to low and Jaks kept having to stretch his arms to have his hands free. Jaks openly glared at everyone who so much as glanced as him, he squared his shoulders and took a breath. "I'm going back to your cabin." And Jaks started to walk, his steps were slow and he only got six of them before he collapsed to his hands and knees to beat and hit at the snow on the ground, his head going down.

Plan one failed. Fist clenched while he stayed on his knees, he'd think of something. The missions. He'd... Figure something out. He'd be good. A good little pet. He could play that game. Make his body clay for S'ric to mould, wriggle and flail like the werewolf liked. A dark grin played on Jaks mouth before it turned back into a grimace. He could do this. It took some effort, but Jaks stood up again, his head down. "Please? It's cold."

Jaks probably wouldn't have been so keen on going back to the cabin if he knew what S'ric had planned. For now though, he was going to pretend, and act, and then he'd be free, one way or another.

[Anonymous]

While S'ric was resistant to the cold, he was not immune. The shirt would not be enough to break the insistent wind that was kicking up a storm. It'd be better if they were back before it started, thought that was more for Jaks sake than S'ric's. Since he wouldn't shift in town, he'd just have to get over it. The cold wasn't something that bothered him, but in excessive amounts, like heat, tended to irk the werewolf. Given that he was still miffed about the elf trying to run away, well, he didn't want to linger too long. What had been a furious S'ric was now a mildly content one, though he had every intention of punishing Jaks. Except now it'd be a mixture of punishment and pleasure. As with anything that had to do with S'ric and gratification, what was usually wonderful for him was terrifying to others. Beatings and fights were a gentle snowfall to the blizzard that was his knifeplay. He fought viciously, but always with the aim to end it as fast as he could. When it came to other areas in his life that held pain, whether inflicted on himself or someone else, the longer it lasted the better. As of yet, he'd never had someone last a whole night when he brought out his knives. He always struck the limit before morning, sometimes a mere hour or so into it. Sometimes it ended in sex, sometimes it ended when the other person passed out for longer than an hour. Each and every night was different.

He watched Jaks take a couple steps away and declare they were going back to the cabin. Which was fine with S'ric, since he'd planned that anyways. However, he did feel compelled to ask, "Was there anything you needed in town before we leave?"

Then Jaks fell. Frowning a little, S'ric took the couple of steps to bring himself next to the elf. He was about to ask if he was ok, but Jaks eventually stood. The werewolf made a mental note that he should take it easy on him, give him some time to recover after this evening, and before they went hunting. The frown was fixed on his expression until Jaks then added, "Please? It's cold." After which, the frown faded a fraction.

The werewolf wasn't real thrilled to hear this. It'd been awhile since he'd had someone more susceptible to... cold... and bruising... and pain... than he was. Given that he'd already taken Jaks for his own though, it wasn't that he blamed the elf so much as he simply realized he had to adjust his own behavior. It was S'ric's strange possessive nature that made him accepting of any faults, flaws, or weaknesses once he'd selected a favorite. It just never occurred to him afterwards that he could trade in for a better... person... He just quit looking until something major happened, such as the boredom. Which was terribly, terribly rare. Usually, he simply outlived his favorites. The werewolf lived a stressful, hard life. Those that were along for the ride tended to be affected by it, whether the cold and some illness got to them, or one of S'ric's high priority marks did... "If you're still cold, I can carry you back. There's a storm coming." The last thing S'ric wanted was for Jaks to get sick. Well, maybe not the –last- thing, but it was certainly low on his 'wish' list.

[Anonymous]

Jaks stood still, the wind picked up and the back of the coat picked up in the wind, trailing on the ground again. Green eyes looked at his fingers, red, delicate, they trembled along with him, his legs were still cold, his neck ached, his back ached, his thighs ached.

The elf briefly closed his eyes and he ducked his head and sighed, his hair a tangled mess as he slowly lifted his head, turning slightly to S'ric to smirk, his eyes hooded as he looked at the werewolf's chest. "Yeah." His voice was hoase, slowly he lifted a hand to pull it through his tangled hair, pushing it over a long cold ear. "You should get some oil." Jaks gave a nod, remembering that horrible day.

The elf had been on a dig, falling down a hole and landed on his butt, needless to say, his bottom and back hurt, and apparently it looked like he'd been up to something else. One of the more... Flamboyant men at the site had suggested oil. It didn't really help with the back ache, but it made the 'other' part not hurt. It took Jaks a few minutes to understand, but when he finally did he was mortified and he never forgot it.

Who knew it would come in handy.

Jaks had actually hoped it never would.

But now that it had, he'd take the situation by the horns and try not to get stabbed by it.

The elf made himself shudder at that mental image. "I..." Jaks gave a tremble and made a vocal noise to express just how cold he was, he hadn't meant to make the noise, so he quickly turned to look at S'ric, worried. "I'd like that. Being carried I mean. I... Snow." Jaks took a shaky breath, his head still down his voice was quiet and defeated. "I'll wait here. I... Walking hurts."

And it's all your fault, you bastard.

Jaks bit his tongue hard enough to bleed to keep those words behind his lips, his hands trembled at his sides and his shoulders shook, it took all his effort to stay standing, so the little elf stood in the huge jacket with his head down. Looking utterly defeated, and thinking of horrible new ways to attempt to get away once they were out of the tundra.

[Anonymous]

The smirk was unexpected, making S'ric wonder if he should reconsider Jaks' stamina. And the request was strange. He'd heard a lot of mundane ones, but this was a first. Not that he'd say no. It was simple, easy, and cheap, but mainly, he saw no reason to say no. He was about to turn and lead the way to the store, but the sound Jaks made turned S'ric's attention back to him. He was still cold? Now he did frown. And not just the ghost of one. The heat requirement for the elf was a little higher than he thought. Of course, S'ric wasn't leaving Jaks to stand here either. The elf wouldn't be leaving his sight for quite some time since his last attempt to run away. Even if he claimed to be too tired to move.

S'ric eyed his elf for a moment then asked, "How do you want to be carried?" Given what parts of him might be cold, S'ric thought he'd offer his elf a choice. Then carry him to the store so he could get whatever sort of oil he wanted. On the way back, he'd shift into a wolf and be a warmer source. S'ric didn't usually buy oil, save for lights, which meant he didn't know what Jaks would want in particular. Until he had an answer, S'ric altered where he was standing to bear the brunt of the wind. He was tall enough, and bigger than Jaks, so it actually worked. It also meant he was rather close, though waiting on an answer.

[Anonymous]

Again with the surprises.

Jaks didn't think he was being unreasonable with being cold. It was the tundra. It was damn cold!

Nothing up until this point had been so...  Embarrassing. Violent sex against a wall in public? No problem.

Hey, how would you like to be carried?

Jaks looked away and down.

Well... Jaks gave a sigh and looked around for the general shop. Pride was his downfall, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be carted around like a broken toy. "In your arms." Jaks moved his arms so they were bent in front of him, "like this. But after, I can walk for now." His voice was solid and he took shaky steps, slipping and hissing as he landed on his knees to stand up again and walk to the general store.

He went in without permission from S'ric, his head held high, the store keeper gave him a quick look before being interested in writing on a piece of paper and Jaks took quiet steps down the isle, his keen eyes scouring. Like Jaks knew what to get, so he grabbed the one that looked familiar, of course he went bright red when he snagged it between his fingers. Remembering how the man went through the best kind and how to not look suspicious while he got it.

Well, the 'not looking suspicious' was sort of out the window, the shop keeper had a wonderful view of the alley. Jaks walked back to the counter and placed the oil down, his face straight but his cheeks burning, not about to take any more charity from S'ric, Jaks shoved his hand into his pants pocket, a little hidden pocket inside his pocket that held a single silver coin, it was obviously too much but he threw it onto the counter anyway and walked back out, putting the oil into one of S'rics coats pockets as he walked back out into the cold. If S'ric had followed him, Jaks had ignored him while he went about the business of getting something to ease his... Time... with his favourite werewolf.

[Anonymous]

S'ric was about to pick him up as he'd been shown, but apparently Jaks wanted to go a little more on his own. Which only confirmed S'ric's thought that if he'd left him alone the elf would've found some way to sneak off. Though, when he fell, S'ric amended that thought to Jaks would try to sneak off, fall often, and end up with S'ric furious once again.  The werewolf was, however, rather neutral about how Jaks made his way to the store. He wanted to walk, that was fine. S'ric followed a stride or so behind, wanting to get out of the cold now. It was starting to annoy him. Once inside, he let Jaks wander on his own while he picked up some odds and ends that would be needed while traveling. Might as well get them now while he was here. It consisted of things Jaks would need, since S'ric lived mostly off the land. But while a completely carnivorous diet was perfect for him, human and elves needed a little more sustenance. Dried fruits and vegetables, though he disliked them. Having taken care of the minimal amount of shopping he was going to do, he paid the man then waited by the counter for Jaks. Much to the shopkeeper's chagrin.

He didn't have to wait for very long. S'ric did quirk a slender brow when Jaks threw money at the man for the oil, then moved to follow him. He didn't mind, but rather, found it curious. But if Jaks wanted to spend what he had, S'ric was fine by it. He never required his favorites spend any money, but cared little if it made them feel better. Once they'd made it to the middle ot the street, which was now practically empty since the wind had picked up significantly... and it was starting to snow... S'ric took two quick steps and essentially scooped Jaks up, holding him as requested. Since there was no one out and about... and S'ric was getting cold, he shifted with Jaks in his arm. The fur was more of a deterrent to the cold than the undershirt had been. The coat and shirt combo was usually enough to keep the hot blooded shifter content. But just taking one away drastically changed that. As a werewolf, Jaks more or less protected from most of the cold. In this form, S'ric's arms were significantly larger, and while he was bipedal, he still leaned forward some. It created a nice area against S'ric's chest that was relatively wind and snow free.

Walking with the majority of the wind to his back, and in this form, meant he made a little better time getting back to the cabin. Of course, by the time they did arrive, what had started out as a storm had turned into a full blown blizzard. S'ric pushed the door open, then closed while he almost gently set Jaks down. After which he shook the snow from his fur before shifting back. Since they'd been gone, and there was no fire, that was the first order of business. Besides, the fire was needed for what he had in mind. Absently, as he worked on getting the fire started, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

[Anonymous]

Jaks gasped quietly when S'ric lifted him up and held him like he asked. The elf was sure that his head was going to explode sooner or later from all the blushing he'd been doing lately.

Felt weird. Looked weird.

One second there's a huge man, next it's the furry beast who he petted that one night all those days ago. Jaks hadn't really seen the inky coloured werewolf since that night, always being asleep or curled up somewhere when S'ric left or came home. No. Not home. It wasn't his home. It was S'rics home. It was Jaks prison. A frozen hell for him to stay in.

Jaks cuddled closer to the furry chest, his fingers clinging to the fur and his face moving closer, eyes closed. He didn't sleep, but he spent the trip being sleepy and nuzzling closer to the warmth that was S'ric's furry beast form. Hated the tundra. Hated it so damned much.

Once at the cabin, Jaks was set down and he stumbled before falling onto his knees again. Back to the cage. Jaks was pleased for a moment that he couldn't sing or he'd be like a caged bird. Now, what to do. Jaks selfishly kept the jacket as he slowly crawled towards the pile of furs before pressing his face into the corner he'd kept sleeping in when S'ric was finished with him.

It wasn't until he'd curled himself up in the furs did he pull off S'rics jacket, pushing it away while Jaks tucked his knees up and moved his hands to his face, his eyes closed and his hair knotted. He'd finger comb it later. Jaks was more drained than he was tired, it felt nice to have his eyes closed, but he wasn't about to fall asleep.

Still needed to think of things. Running in snow was out. Trying to escape in the tundra was a no. Next time. He'd do it next time. He'd face the music whether it was a bad pitch or a soothing note, for now... But...

Next time.

Jaks lifted his head slowly when S'ric asked if he was hungry, and he gave a grunt. "No. I'm fine. Thanks though, maybe later." To irritated, to angry and far to annoyed with himself to be hungry right now.

[Anonymous]

S'ric didn't mind if Jaks laid down now. He had thing to set up. The fire, mostly, and the fact he was hungry. Once it was rather large, he stood and went to a cabinet. There were several along the wall where he kept what supplies were needed, and stored his knives on the top shelf. One that would be out of reach for the shorter elf. Not that it mattered. He pulled two blades down. One knife was rather dull, and made of simple steel. The other was slender, with a slight curve to it. Almost delicate, with a razor sharp edge. It was longer than the blunt one, with a plain leather handle where the blunt one's handle was metal. He set the shiny blade on the table, his hand running over it almost affectionately, before he took the other to the fire, sliding the blade along the bottom embers. Obviously with the intent to heat it.

Once that was set up, S'ric glanced back to Jaks before shifting again. He was hungry, and he wanted his energy for what he had planned. Without a word, the werewolf pushed his way out of the cabin and into the darkening storm. It'd take him awhile to find food, and a little longer to fill himself and then come back. Hopefully by then, Jaks would have gotten some rest... and his one blade would be very, very warm. It was all part of what he had planned.

[Anonymous]

Jaks heard him move things around, but he didn't pay attention. Too warm and too drained to do anything of interest that involved even lifting his head. Jaks kicked off his soiled pants once he heard the door close, by that time he was toasty warm inside the furs and wearing the pants disgusted him. Blood and... Jaks sat up and finger combed his hair, eyes down casted as he sat, his chest naked.

Giving a quick glance towards the door, Jaks stood up, wincing at the fresh bruises on his thighs. His fingers trailed up his body, hickeys were just about everywhere on his torso, indents from less-than-gentle bites. Jaks moved his hand to his neck and gently pressed on the bite mark, hissing when it stung at his tough.

For an elf, he was far from graceful. What elf got kidnapped by a werewolf? Jaks kneeled on the floor, completely oblivious to the knifes S'ric had left around the cabin, too preocupied with his tangled hair and his bruised self. The bruises on his hips made his face hot, recalling how S'ric would hold his hips when he got to forceful. It was only going to get worse, too. He'd messed up, he'd run, then he'd freaked out at the elf.

Then the snow...

Jaks slammed his fists against the floor with a cry of rage before he dug his fingers into his palms and closed his eyes, turning his head away from the fire. He'd sleep. He'd probably need it. Jaks stood up again, wincing, his hand going to the still new bite marks as he kneeled on the furs and wrapped himself in them, closing his eyes and falling into a light dreamless sleep.

At least Jaks' hair was nice again. There was a plus. He hadn't noticed the knives though, had been to focussed on himself to even bother examining anything. Which was stupid, he could have been waiting at the door to stab S'ric when he got back, but no. Little elfy was taking a nap instead.

[Anonymous]

By the time S'ric had found a stag, caught the beast, and ate his fill, true twiling had settled over the landscape. Given how it was snowing now, it'd been dark for awhile. But the night had a different feel to it, especially to a werewolf. It was like a rough internal clock, where he could make base assumptions on what time it was depending on how close 'night' felt. This became wildly more accurate the day of a full moon. Which was still a week or so away. Rather than rushing home, the werewolf did a small circuit of his territory. He'd planned on being back in his cabin for a bit, and didn't want there to be any nasty surprises.

When he was finally standing in front of the cabin door, he was very awake, and looking forward to what he was going to do to Jaks. He wondered where the elf's limit was, wondering how much pain, how much blood, he'd get before Jaks passed out, or S'ric succumbed and ended the play to have sex with him. Thus far, S'ric had... never... stopped early to finish it off with sex. The desire was always there, strong and insistant... but the sight of blood, the taste of it, and the sounds that he imagined Jaks would make were simply too good to just... end. After this, he'd have to let the elf heal. Which meant he'd have to be thorough so as to be sated for a couple days. All depending on how Jaks healed.

S'ric pushed the door open, shifting into his human self as he did. He was still dusted in snow as the door was pushed shut, almost quietly. The werewolf eyed the furs, not surprised to see Jaks resting. He'd seemed a little frayed earlier. Part of the reason S'ric had taken his time while hunting. He wouldn't put off this much longer than a couple hours, which seemed a decent enough amount of time for Jaks to regain some of his strength. Methodically, he checked the blade he'd left by the fire, pleased to see that it was very, very, very hot. And because there was no separate handle from the blade, when S'ric touched it, the warmth seared some on if palm. He swayed a little, eyes closed as his body took a moment to both enjoy the sharp, hot pain and to refocus his attention on the present. The burn was already healing, as was usual. Actual fire would destroy the tissue, making it impossible to heal at his supernatural rate. Blisters would be fixed. Prolonged handling of the knife however would leave a lasting wound. Much to S'ric's masochistic delight. Jaks would not be the only one hurt tonight. He left the hot blade in the fire. That was later.

S'ric pulled off his shirt and collected his coat from the furs, doing so with silent grace. He didn't want Jaks awake yet. Next came the pants, which he slid off and piled with the rest of his enchanted clothing. He'd rather not soak it with blood. His own or Jaks. Once naked, he picked up the slender, razor sharp knife from the table and made his way over to the sleeping elf. He crawled over to Jaks, setting the blade within arm's reach while pulled on the furs to reveal some of Jaks' neck. Using his arms to keep his body completely off the elf's, S'ric lightly licked one of his previous bite marks before sucking  on it. They had all night. There was no rush.

[Anonymous]

Eyes snapped open when the door was opened and closed, he tucked his legs up further and burried his head against his hair, it smelled like trees and pine needles, which made Jaks stare at his chair, seeing as how he hadn't been around any pine needles or even a forest lately. Maybe it was that natural scent thing of his and he just never noticed it before, having been enveloped in S'rics scent. Jaks nuzzled closer to his hair and kept his eyes closed, fully intending to go back to sleep.

The elf ignored the sound of fabric, though of course he knew what S'ric was doing. The guy had been doing it almost ritualistically the past week anyway, Jaks curled up tighter, his face pressing into the furs, his eyes staying closed when the fur was pulled down and S'ric moved his mouth to Jaks neck. A startled gasp and his brows drew together, his eyes squeezing closed. "No..." He gave a pathetic sigh of the word and nuzzled away, drawing his arms up.

Did this guy ever stop?

Jaks wanted him to rush. The elf wanted to go back to sleep, not be up all night having weird kinky sex or... Neck sucking. Jaks lifted a hand to push at S'rics face with the back of his hand, moaning softly. "Don't." He opened his eyes a sliver before closing them again, ineffectively dismissing the werewolf, turning his head back and away. If it was any other night he'd bark and flail, but tonight, not so much, didn't feel like it tonight.

Rather, Jaks wasn't going to bark and flail until S'ric started what he really planned, simple sex was going to be with a limp glaring body, the knife play would have him twitching and flailing. It wasn't exactly a good thing that Jaks was unobservant.

[Anonymous]

Usually, defiance annoyed him. And usually he'd have been more persistent, which translated into aggressiveness for S'ric. Usually, being the case. Tonight, however, Jaks was being punished for his earlier display. That he tried to wave off S'ric actually made the werewolf smile against his neck. Why? Because every bit of defiance was more of a reason to use the knife on his little elf. But oh, where to start? And how? These little details had S'ric shivering with suppressed eagerness. There was fun to be had in letting his favorite know beforehand what he was planning. The dread of it all was sometimes sweeter than the screams he'd coax from their throat. But the surprise, the first slash of pain where they had no explanation... well, there was a certain wildness about that. Which should he use for Jaks? S'ric actually pulled away with the brush of Jaks hand, as though accepting the dismissal. He recalled how terrified the elf had been when S'ric had found him in the ally. When he had been aware of what was going to happen. Oh, just thinking about that made S'ric shiver again. So he'd tell Jaks.

S'ric chuckled a little as he drew the fur further off of Jaks body, his gaze sliding along the tattoo on his exposed back. His hand slid along the fur and touched the now chill handle of the slender blade, drawing it close. He ran the end of the hilt along Jaks' back. It would be cold, foreign, and rough. Hopefully enough to make Jaks realize that something not so normal was going on. If not, well, S'ric could always prick him to get a reaction. The werewolf was already rather excited, the possibilities.... the knowledge he was going to hurt Jaks, and that the elf would bleed... was a very stimulating thing for him. Even though he'd not so much as made more contact than the sucking along his neck... Oh, S'ric was going to have some fun.

[Anonymous]

He moved away?

Jaks gave a quiet sigh of relief and closed his eyes again, turning his head. Then they snapped open again.

It was cold and It felt weird on his back.

"What are you doing?" His voice was shaky, Jaks moved away from the cold foreign object, his mind going over a few possibilities, of course they were all horribly perverted and none of them were actually what S'ric had planned at all. Jaks couldn't even begin to fathom what S'ric really had planned.

Jaks eased away from the cold object, turning his body so he was on his stomach, his face burried in the furs but his lower half still under S'ric. " Just get on with it already!" he said, his voice strained and high pitched from his distress and general grumpiness towards the situation. He couldn't stop it. Jaks knew that no matter what he did he couldn't stop it from happening. The sooner S'ric started whatever he had planned, the sooner he'd finish and the sooner Jaks could sleep.

[Anonymous]

S'ric found it so terribly amusing that the elf didn't know what was going on. The werewolf's humor was not what some would call normal, or nice, or... anything associated with the gaiety laughter was supposed to represent. Just the sound of a chuckle from the man carried more painful promises than any man holding a sword... who happened to be drunk and already mad. And it was that sound that slipped from S'ric's throat after Jaks rolled on his stomach, away from him. And then proclaimed, " Just get on with it already!"

S'ric was more than happy to oblige. He actually sat on Jaks, straddling him so that his tattooed back was in front of him. He took the flat side of the tip and pressed it to the back of Jaks neck, lightly drawing the blade down. Not cutting. Not yet. "You remember your earlier attempt to get away?" His voice was soft and secretive, like Jaks and he had something personal to discuss that was best whispered unless someone else might hear. "How you ran from me..." he continued, the sound taking on an almost breathy quality as he became more eager to start. The flat of the blade moved down to the of Jaks ass, right above where S'ric was sitting. "And then, how you... misbehaved in the inn?"

What's this? Had S'ric magically learned to converse normally? The werewolf happened to enjoy informing his little favorites just why he was upset. Fuel for the fire, as it were.

[Anonymous]

Wincing at the noise, Jaks closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it.

This wasn't going right. It wasn't supposed to be like this. S'ric was supposed to bend him over, do a poke and hump and that was it. This was... This was making him worry. His eyes widened and his breath quickened when S'ric began to talk. Talking wasn't good. S'ric talking wasn't good.

Jaks sucked in his breath, his arms up and his head pillowed against his forearms, shifting his hips so that at least those were comfortable. The elf stayed quiet, his chest grew tight while S'ric talked to him like a naughty puppy, his fingers dug into the fur and his breath was shaky. Anger was the cause of the tears that welled in his green eyes, that let the puff of breath push past his lips.

The elf took a deep breath before he closed his eyes, two fat tears dripping onto the furs. This was a trial. He'd pass it. It sunk in just what S'ric had planned, and it scared the shit out of him. Before he took a breath and opened his eyes, "Yes. I remember. And I don't regret it." He swallowed and turned his eyes to look at S'ric over his shoulder, his eyes falling into an easy glare. There were two outcomes for tonight, he would either die or survive.

As an elf, Jaks wanted to survive, he was young, this was a pause in his life, in a hundred years this would be a memory of someone else that he wouldn't have to dwell on. Jaks fingers tightened on the furs and he turned his head, his eyes staring across the room and his lip pressed into his mouth between his teeth.

[Anonymous]

Of course S'ric knew Jaks hadn't regretted it. Though he lacked the social skills and time spent in public to know most basics about human interaction and the reasons behind their actions, he was not an idiot. No one was sorry they'd done something, they were always sorry they got caught. The same applied to Jaks now. Which only made S'ric smile because, at least, Jaks was going to be honest. And if he'd learned anything, it was that the elf had quite a mouth on him. And in this setting, he could get it more trouble depending on what he said. Why? Because S'ric would take any excuse to further fuel his actions. Not that he needed one to begin with, but it helped.

With the blade pressed at the base of Jaks spine, he applied some pressure. The slender point of the blade slipped into his skin with minimal fuss. "You should know better than to run away from me," he purred in a deep, soft voice. "You've already proven your ineptitude in the snow. Why even bother?" He pushed the blade further beneath the skin, in that very dangerous area above the base of his spine. Too deep and S'ric would have a handicapped elf on his hands. "Try not to move too much," he continued in what constituted as a deadly pur from the werewolf. "I'd hate to knick something vital and you lose your ability to walk, much less run." He could see the outline of the blade just beneath the layer of skin, steadily going up. The entrance that the blade used steadily widened as the metal did, blood beginning to ooze around the edges. Because of the location, S'ric wouldn't be surprised if Jaks could feel the pressure of the blade along his spine, beneath the skin. Luckily for the elf, S'ric had his blade work down to a precise art. He wouldn't hurt Jaks unless he wanted to, wouldn't severely disfigure unless that was his aim. Centuries of testing and toying, experimenting, had taught S'ric a great deal about knives.

[Anonymous]

Fingers tightened against the fur and Jaks tensed, it took ever ounce of will power to keep his breath from heaving, to keep the blade still. His tatttoo. Jaks squeezed his eyes shut, bit down on his tongue, felt the blood drip past his lips onto the furs. This was a huge fuck up.  The elf's mind reeled, going over the day. Why did he run? It was stupid. There was snow. Where would he go anyway? Obviously there was no way to apologize to S'ric, he wouldn't take it. This was his price to pay.

His blood was hot and wet on his back, welling up underneath the blade to drip down between his legs, off to the sides, he gave a shuddering sob and let his mouth open briefly for a wet bloody wail of pain. "Stop it!" Blood pooled around his mouth when he opened it to scream, his eyes were wet, his ears were red. Jaks didn't move though, he just clutched at the furs and kept his eyes squeezed shut, he had to run, if he became a cripple he'd fall onto a blade on purpose.

A lifetime as a cripple or a night of unimaginable pain.

Jaks was no fool. A night can be forgotten, a dark memory to be outshone by a bright one. It was an odd sensation, the pressure of the blade in his skin while the pain flared up around it. He squeezed his eyes shut, S'ric was at his back, and Jaks had a horrible feeling that the werewolf was going to carve out his tattoo, so, Jaks, being the inappropriate chatterbox that he was, opened his mouth again, voicing his thoughts with minimal grunting and a shaky breath. " Are you going to cut off my tattoo?" Simple cuts and pokes could be survived, Jaks didn't scar, but if something as major as his tattoo being carved out... He'd remember this forever in that case, and that wasn't a very sought after thought for the young elf.

[Anonymous]

The wail made him pause. Not because he was concerned, ooohhh no. Rather, S'ric wasn't going to push the blade further while a shiver shook his form. The sound was heavenly, wildly erotic. It pieced his sensitive ears and caressed a part of his mind that most people never had. There was little he enjoyed more than making people scream. Given that the thick scent of Jaks oh so sweet blood hung in the air... the man was in paradise. He watched the blood create a red line on Jaks' skin, the color so very dark. Only when he sure he could continue did he do so, in essence, sheathing the blade in Jaks' back. The outline was beautiful to see. The upraised portion defined the path the blade took, making it so very visible given S'ric's unobstructed view. What's more, there was a morbid sense of pride S'ric had for Jaks. Despite the pain of the blade slicing through the thin layer beneath his skin, despite the cold pressure of the metal on his spine, the elf was staying very still. S'ric had learned how damaging this could be, had nicked others before. That's what made it so very thrilling. It's not that he wanted to handicap Jaks, he just wanted to make sure he understood what happened when he misbehaved.

"Very, very good," he praised is a hushed voice, thick with desire. As though Jaks had not screamed a moment ago, or asked about the removal of the tattoo. Which was a very, very curious idea. S'ric rather liked the design on Jaks, it was a controlled mar on an otherwise perfect landscape. But there was a dark part of S'ric that writhed with carnal want at the idea of skinning it off of him. He shivered again, pausing with the blade halfway in Jaks.  He closed his eyes briefly, taking soft breaths that almost sounded as though he were panting. It was during this pause that he answered. "No." The answer was almost unheard it was so gentle. "Not tonight." Would he some other time? The chance was possible. And if he liked him with the tattoo, it could always be put back on. Or touched up, if S'ric happened to cut a piece off of Jaks.

Once he'd managed to get control of himself, he then tilted the blade horizontally. Not a lot, as that would be very bad for Jaks. But enough that he'd feel the sharp pressure of one of the edges pressing closer to his spine, while the other threatened to cut his skin. The tilt was minimal, but given the location, every bit of change would feel like an earthquake.  "Don't move," he warned in a throaty hiss as he prepared. It was the expectation that made him hold this pose for several breaths. His free hand moved to rest right next to the blade, applying some pressure and increasing the tension of Jaks' skin over the tilted edge. "Feel free to scream," he said, breathless, before jerking the blade up with enough force that he tore the blade from Jaks' back.

[Anonymous]

Knowing that the blade was buried in his back made Jaks positive that the next place he ran away in would at least make S'ric work to get him back. His thoughts ran wild in his head and his breath hissed out of his mouth, his lips dark red from the blood that left his tongue numb. Eyes were hooded and his face twitched when S'ric said that he'd get to keep his tattoo... Tonight.

Geeze, how generous of him.

Jaks bitterly rolled his eyes before he closed them again and resumed to take even shallow breaths so his chest didn't move. Then S'ric went back to work, tilting the blade, pained gasps pushed past the elfs lips and he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers clawing at the furs. His breath quickened when S'ric spoke, going completely still his breath trapped in his lungs before the werewolf pressed his hand down. No. He wouldn't. Not that.

Jaks did scream, his head threw back, his hair falling into the wound and leaving bloody lines as he moved his head back to press his face against the fur and scream again, shoulders tensing and blood oozing down his back, making his legs and sides sticky. His breath was coming out in hot pants, his lips wet with blood and he gave a shaking breath before he moved to wiggle away. His hands clutching at the furs and dragging them towards him in a failing effort to get away.

The knife wasn't in his back anymore, so he didn't have anything to keep him from freaking out. Jaks hand dipped behind his back to press against the wound, his breath coming out in a loud hiss as he jerked his hand back, bloodied. "What the fuck did you do?!" His voice was higher, hysterical almost, he was leaning up on an elbow, dark hair stuck to his cheek and lips by the saliva and blood.   "I get it, I shouldn't have run away, please stop." This hurt. Jaks wasn't down with things when they hurt.

[Anonymous]

The scream was better than S'ric could ever imagine, they always were. And he got not one, but two for that cut. His body went rigid as he watched, wanting the moment to be ingrained. From the way Jaks tensed up, to the quivering of his body, and the bloody trail his hair created... It electrified the werewolf, made every fiber of his body singe with want. The supreme attraction, the deepest bout of emotion he'd ever feel, came from inflicting pain such as this. Nothing measured up to causing that sort of response. It was a wild mix of predatory hunger, sadistic ecstasy, and plain old cruelty. All nicely wrapped up in a sort of possessive need. Jaks was his, the body he'd just marred, the one with the rivulets of blood sliding down his sides, belonged to S'ric. Through that, he wanted to touch, taste, feel....

S'ric's heart hammered in his chest, his breathing soft and shallow. He smiled just a little as Jaks yelled at him, though he wasn't paying attention. Rather, he brought the blade up, studied the glint of blood along the metallic surface, before promptly licking it clean. He didn't even care he cut his tongue while doing so, growling softly with pleasure at the mingled taste. S'ric loved blood. Seeing Jaks wounded, bleeding, was arousing on a level nothing else ever was. The werewolf was aware that Jaks had said something to him, but he didn't care. He wanted to hurt him some more. Without caring what the blood would do to the fur, or the pain Jaks would be in, S'ric grabbed a leg, using it to tip Jaks on his back, before pulling him to S'ric, dragging his wounded back against the fur. He was positioned as he had been before, legs to either side of S'ric's hips. The fur would need replaced, which was hardly a concern of S'ric's right now.

With a focus intent only on what he wanted, S'ric's free hand caught one of Jaks wrists, then the other, before pinning them over his head. This meant S'ric was leaning over the elf, his gaze peering over the expanse of unmarred skin. Where to cut next? His breathing was shallow, excited, as he thought of all the possibilities...