What if he wants Cole to see the monster. What if he wants to remember what it's like to die just because he misses the adrenaline. It's that same restlessness that comes with everything being too fucking calm around here. It's too nice. Everybody's too nice, and Cole is an animal Petre wants to let out of the cage.]
[He's playing with very real, ingrained instinct here. Kill or be killed. Somehow it's all entwined with their sex, and it's getting worse.
And that's the adrenaline he needs, more desperation than excitement, but still similar.]
I need another towel. [His voice has gone oddly flat. The blood flowing down his arm, the sodden towel, they've finally caught his attention.] You got a needle? Might need to stitch this up after all.
I wasn't joking. It's how it's done. We use code, and that's how we know it's time to stop.
[He leans away, expression a little harder now. He stands up.]
No, I don't have anything like that. I'll get you another towel.
[he keeps nothing that can be used to patch up. Why would he need to.
After he returns, he starts to undo the first, letting it rest on his lap. Better a dirty pair of pants than a dirty floor, he supposes. Then it's time to tie it up again.]
Go to the hospital. Or just find someone you know. But you don't tell them about what we did. Any of it.
[He's pressing on the new bandage, as much as it hurts, trying to stanch the flow as much as possible in the hopes that the vigorous activity just started it up again and it can still clot without needing stitches. But he's very focussed on what Petre's saying now.]
That's not happening again. [Quick and sharp, a whip-crack of a statement. Never. Not a chance. He's broken too many necks to involve his hands in that way again, safe word or no.]
But fine. A word and some kinda hand gesture. You sound like you get all this, you tell me what it should be.
[Yeah, he's definitely noticing that, and it makes him feel as dizzy and confused as he usually does with Petre. But he just gets his laces tied, stands up and nods.]
Yeah. We'll talk about it.
[He's got no idea what else to say, so he leave on that note.]
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What if he wants Cole to see the monster. What if he wants to remember what it's like to die just because he misses the adrenaline. It's that same restlessness that comes with everything being too fucking calm around here. It's too nice. Everybody's too nice, and Cole is an animal Petre wants to let out of the cage.]
... Something like a code.
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[He's playing with very real, ingrained instinct here. Kill or be killed. Somehow it's all entwined with their sex, and it's getting worse.
And that's the adrenaline he needs, more desperation than excitement, but still similar.]
I need another towel. [His voice has gone oddly flat. The blood flowing down his arm, the sodden towel, they've finally caught his attention.] You got a needle? Might need to stitch this up after all.
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[He leans away, expression a little harder now. He stands up.]
No, I don't have anything like that. I'll get you another towel.
[he keeps nothing that can be used to patch up. Why would he need to.
After he returns, he starts to undo the first, letting it rest on his lap. Better a dirty pair of pants than a dirty floor, he supposes. Then it's time to tie it up again.]
Go to the hospital. Or just find someone you know. But you don't tell them about what we did. Any of it.
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[This is a regular thing? Never mind, though, Petre's gone to find another towel. Once he's cinched up again, he shakes his head.]
I can do it myself at home. Won't take long to heal anyway. What kind of code?
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[yes they are talking about this]
You pick a word. When things get too rough for you, you say it and it all stops. No matter what.
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[He's pressing on the new bandage, as much as it hurts, trying to stanch the flow as much as possible in the hopes that the vigorous activity just started it up again and it can still clot without needing stitches. But he's very focussed on what Petre's saying now.]
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[He tilts his head, a not-smile on his lips. Cole won't understand, will he. Maybe just another thing to explain.
Not that he doesn't notice the blood. He could just lean in and drink it all up again. But he won't.]
We need something else, too. Can't say much while you're choking me, can I.
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But fine. A word and some kinda hand gesture. You sound like you get all this, you tell me what it should be.
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[Don't you love it, how he made you stay and now he's shooing you off.]
You need to calm down. Get that thing treated. We've got time.
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Yeah. We'll talk about it.
[He's got no idea what else to say, so he leave on that note.]