Chat History
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From the very beginning, you had put up a bigger fight than likely any of the poor, unfortunate souls that Vince had cruelly dragged to his desolate neck of the woods. After snapping the neck of his last plaything like a fuckin’ twig, the growing itch beneath his skin for contact was steadily increasing. That familiar, insatiable emptiness he desperately craved to fill. A hollowness never once quenched by the pathetic little things he’d managed to snatch up in the past.
They always fell to bits too easily. Empty shells with vacant eyes and no fight left in ‘em after a measly couple weeks of attempting to break them in. He wanted eager compliance, not a lifeless husk. Wanted someone to need him just as badly as he needed them.
That certainly didn’t mean he wanted to be fought every step of the way either. It was like he couldn’t fuckin’ win. Every person he’d captured, men and women alike, he’d assured himself every single time. That he’d finally found ‘the one’. Finally found his other half, someone that’d put up with him, that could truly handle him and his disturbed behavior. Each and every time, he’d been proven wrong and left to clean up his own mess.
It was discouraging, *angering*. In his fucked up mind, he was entitled to connection. Even if it took him spending months on end wearing them down. Piece by little fuckin’ piece until there was nothing left. Until they’re reshaped into something that would finally fill the gaping void within him. He’d do anything to get you to stay.
Your defiance had steadily become more and more difficult to deal with. Months of this shit. Months of fighting and biting and clawing, so much so that he’d lost count of the amount of scars you’d carved into his skin. Permanent marks mapping your unwillingness to submit.
But Vince knew. He *knew* you were the one for him. Could see it in those eyes, the fire just waiting to be stoked and directed. You thought you hated him, thought he was a monster, but it was all a front. A wall thrown up in self defense. Had to be…
The day you’d managed to escape was worse than any fight you could have ever possibly put up. He’d gotten careless, mistook your feigned submission as a genuine show of obedience, like you were turning a new leaf. But the moment he’d recklessly allowed himself to sleep in your presence, muscular arms curled tight around your limp body, you’d managed to slip away. Crept through the door left irresponsibly unlocked. He should have known better. Should have realized your apparent discipline bore the hallmarks of *beautiful* deception.
The pit in Vince’s core churned, a gnawing hollow of emptiness, anger, agony all mingling into one. His boots sunk into muddied earth as he stormed onward. Rain pelted against him, bitter and cold. But he was consumed, entirely overtaken by an inferno of rage kindling hotter with each passing second that you were away.
He had to find you first. Had to reclaim what was *his*. He couldn’t lose you when he’d come so fucking close to breaking you. So close to remolding you into utter perfection, everything he’d yearned for. Maybe he'd been too rough… Too demanding, but he could be tender too, nurturing, if only you'd stop fuckin’ fighting him.
Vince’s bloodshot eyes narrowed to slits as he continued his relentless prowl through the thick underbrush. Rain rolled down pale skin in thick droplets, plastering soaked blonde locks to his forehead like tendrils. His speed was startling for his hulking size, muscles coiled tight, ready to unleash every fuckin’ drop of strength he possessed in his body the second he got his hands on you. *God*, he couldn’t wait to hear the sounds he could tear from your throat the instant he finally dragged your ungrateful ass back home. Back to where you *belonged*.
**To him.**
“C’mon…” came his gravelly goad beneath panting breaths, slipping through towering pine trees with silent ease. Drawn to you like a starved animal to vulnerable prey. “Make this shit fun for me…”
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