Unable to sleep properly, thoughts scrambled as thoughts of her cycle through his head instead of sheep.
He wants to stop, but he finds a sense of comfort in those thoughts..
Twilighting was the only word to describe his situation, stuck between the line between slunber and being lucid. He clawed into his pillow and groaned softly in fustration, mouth dry despite drinking moments ago. Her perfume wafted behind his nose, the warmth of her body to his when he used himself to envelop her while they were in a crowded elevator to make himself look chivalrous but in actuality he wanted to- no.. *needed* to feel her. He clenched his jaw, craving the escape sleep granted but he needed a push. Just something, anything...
He closed his eyes and laid back, falling into the memories replaying in his head. A ghostly apparition of that body against his traced her fingers down his chest, giggling mischievously as she slid down his body. He was going crazy but...
Growing up with a silver spoon had many privileges, several in fact, but one thing that was more difficult to obtain with wealth was privacy. Patrick realized that rather quickly between hasty kisses and touches throughout the halls of the Lewa estate. Every shadow had eyes, bathrooms weren’t completely safe, and then with the heir to it all whispering for him to follow her.. He had to admit that the excitement of it all was almost disorienting and the walls that were adorned with fine art and even more of Bella’s trophies made them all stretch on higher like he was in an endless forest with her as a guide. A nymph pulled him into the unknown, but he willingly let her guide him, letting her voice echo through the darkness in hopes that he’d be spirited away. But that was just an elaborate way of saying he was going to fuck her.
She closed and locked a door behind him, a triumphant smile spreading across her lips. The warm lighting of the room was almost comforting had it not been for the obvious fact that this was a study. “His office?” He questioned softly, not sure if they were exactly in the clear. Belladonna didn’t exactly care by the look in her eyes, pulling him further into the office with a few kisses and a hand through his hair.
“Nobody goes here.” She hopped on the empty desk with a matter of fact tone that made him look at her, regardless he boxed her in with his arms. He wanted to see how afraid he could make her. A satisfied expression was nice, but he wanted to see how she’d look in tears and begging him for mercy, whether it be from pleasure or pain. He had the option to give either, but if he wanted to keep her, study her like the interesting specimen that she was. He’d have to keep the bruising light.
“Nobody?” He scoffed dryly, finding her lips again to fill the gaps in their broken conversation. It felt as though while they spoke, their bodies had a different conversation parallel to their own. Her body slotted to his perfectly as her legs wrapped around his waist, both pulled to the hardwood desk that offered them support. Her legs were like a vice, her hips finding his own as she grinded herself against his hardening cock. A breath caught in his throat for a moment, pleased by the sensation. He sunk his teeth into her lip, needing to draw blood. Just something, anything to tell him that this was all real and that the heart hammering against his own was existent.
The commotion of the party seemed so distant as seconds seemed to feel like hours between them, and pieces of clothing were discarded, but they knew better not to completely strip. In their own garden of eden, but the possibility of a pair of watchful eyes loomed over the two. A haunting feeling that he elected to ignore. When he pulled away to admire his work, Belladonna smiled up at him with a bloodied lip and hazy eyes that focused only on him. He’d seen that crazed expression when she looked at her “art”, she saw him the same way he saw her. A small chuckle rumbled in his chest, kneeling before her, the soft light seeming to give her a dreamlike glow as he kissed her thigh. The softness of her skin was so tempting. But he could wait, just a bit longer. He hummed in delight when he finally tasted her, burying his nails in her exposed skin so he could devour her.
Her moans like music, he couldn’t help but lift her up just a bit so he could get a better view of her contorted in pleasure, her hair framed her face. Her lips swollen and shiny with blood fell open as his name fell from her lips “Patrick! Oh my god…” It felt like a prayer, and he yearned for her to worship him as if he were a god. She’d be his disciple.. He moaned against her clit, savoring the taste of her juices like the forbidden fruit that she was. Patrick unzipped his pants, freeing himself from his constraints as he started to jerk himself off for relief. Soft moans and hushed pants echoed around the room, her thighs squeezing his head, her fingers tangled in his hair. He could stay in this moment forever.
“Pat just fuck me already…” She spoke through gritted teeth and he bit into the tender flesh of her thigh to punish her, a whimper of pain made his cock even harder.
“So impatient.” He chuckled, standing so he could tower over her again. Again, all she saw was him. Draped eyes, uneven breaths that came out in small puffs, her hair in a state of disarray. The urge to steal her away was an ever-present feeling every time he saw her eyes, heard her voice, and felt her hands that have taken life like he so wishes to do. It was all-encompassing and natural, their movements like a dance. He kissed her again, wanting to memorize the taste of her lips and find words to describe them in the poetry he wished to write for her, how he wished she was in her purest form; Bare and bloodied, a shewolf ready to pounce at him, unaware that they were so alike. He wanted her sweaty and contorted, frozen in time like a piece of art.
He lined up between her folds and sank inside of her.
Finally…
They were one.
Belladonna’s eyes prickled with tears as pain painted her expression and wondering what he had done to cause such agony (not that he cared), he looked down between them as crimson mixed with her juices in a tye-dye fashion, a sadistic grin spread across his lips as the realization dawned on him. Belladonna bit her lip to prevent another pained cry as he slammed into her again. The stretch to accommodate him made the bravery drain from her face. It was everything he could’ve wanted. He was Belladonna Lewa’s first and one day, he promised himself that she would be her very last. He wrapped his fingers around her throat as he started to form a pace without her, leading the dance as he took her breath away. “You should’ve told me you were a virgin,” He teased, groaning under his breath. Her pussy seemed to suck him in. “Fuck.. Bella…”
“Why…Why should I have?” She spoke breathlessly, her nails digging into the skin of his back, clawing down to inflict pain and equal the playing field. Patrick hissed, grinding his hips into her.
Frankly, he couldn’t think of a coherent answer. The act of claiming her? No.. Maybe… He tightened his grip on her throat, fucking her harder and drinking in her cries and moans. He pressed his forehead to hers and tried to level himself until he felt something cold against his hot skin, a prickling sensation that made him pause and sit up a bit to feel the area.
His own blood coated his fingers, gaze falling down to earth when he noticed the silver letter opener in Bella’s hands, her smile returning as she pulled him back down. Her tongue against his wounded skin made a shudder rack up his body. “There’s other ways to take someone’s breath away.” She purred in his ear, her own hips still moving.
His only reply was to grab her hips and fuck her harder, faster, deeper… Pulled hair and bit lips met in a kiss, they were mixing, a single organism in that moment. It wasn’t love but a word too intimate for either to place. The letter opener and a few pens fell off the desk as they made love to each other.
A mewl of ecstasy in his ear made his core twist, “I’m gonna-” Her shrill breathing melted into desperate keening, and Patrick followed her with a moan. They were so close, he’d fill her and care about the consequences later. But he needed to breed her, make her his. Claim in the best way that he could.
He swore, the welts on his skin throbbing with the beat of his heart. Bella’s legs locked him into place, her brows furrowing to endure the sensations that crashed into her in waves.
Patrick came with a moan, the copper taste in his mouth helping his high as he crashed with her. His climax dripped down her thigh and onto the table in a mixture of red and white. They melted into each other, tied together by their arms. In silence, they listened to each other breathe.
--
He wished he was more lucid when Belladonna pulled him into her father’s bathroom, wanting moments to memorize everything the man used on a daily basis but he instead only saw the unlabeled sapphire blue soap dispenser and a first aid kit as the two tidied back up. Belladonna covered her bloodied lip with lipstick before putting a bandaid on the cut on his neck. “You’ll find your way back to the party first.” She spoke softly, fixing his tie. Patrick hummed, watching her fingers.
“Not the other way around?” He looked at her with a tired expression. She scoffed and shook her head at the idea.
“Too suspicious, my parents know I hate crowds.”
“That explains a few things.”
“You were in my hiding spot.” She gave him a small peck on the lips and patted his chest. “Now go.”
Belladonna was born to a Phillipe Sacha Lewa and Sloan (Church) Lewa. They worked hard to keep their daughter cultured, which involved travel, high education, and a rotation of hobbies. She learned fairly quickly that her parent's word was God and that to defy them meant consequences such as privileges being stripped away or being isolated from others for periods of time. Being the heiress to the Lewa jewlery empire meant that she was groomed essentially to run or marry someone who would run Lewa jewels when she inherited it. She begins showing concerning behaviors because of this, taking up hunting and taxidermy in her youth; finding joy in eating and stuffing everything thing kills. The family home soon filling with her trophies.
As she got older, hunting trips began to space out, and her morbid activities made it difficult to upkeep her appearance as a well-rounded heiress. She moved to a more socially acceptable hobby, insect pinning (She likes to watch them die).
Because she spent most of her youth turning her kills into works of art, she soon grew a love for the arts. She went to Yale for business but rubbed elbows with local artists and birthed a hatred for the culture she was born into.
Belladonna yearns for the more artsy side of life but is confined to the more yuppie lifestyle by association. After graduating, she spends her time traveling to the various locations Lewa jewels own around the world before her parents call her and tell her that she's engaged.
Joshua Lewis enters the scene, and Belladonna is constantly trying to assure herself that he is a good match for her. He's kind and caring despite working Wallstreet. He hates her hobby but still lets her do it, and he's patient. Despite this she feels smothered by him and his affection and often fantasies about him dying in horrible and painful ways.
Because of his new job at Pierce and Pierce, he moved her to New York with him, and she runs into a familiar face.
Patrick Bateman.
Neither could recognize each other at first, but both seem to feel an unspoken connection that Belladonna rejects because she already has Joshua, and Patrick encapsulates everything she hates. Patrick hates Joshua as is, but the fact that he has Belladonna makes him hate him more.
Belladonna is actively trying to make do with her current situation until a little before New years when Joshua mysteriously goes missing and nobody knows where he went. No note, no call home, just a hastily packed apartment. She wishes she didn't find joy in him gone, breathing in a fresh breath of air at the news. To keep appearances, she attends a New Years party hosted by David Van Patten and runs into Patrick again.
Belladonna must figure out why Joshua disappeared and if Patrick was involved. Then ultimately wonder if she gives in to Patrick's advances or not, even if he encourages her to become worse.
Patrick stared at the beast before him, forever frozen in time in the moment it left its mortal coil. He should be socializing with others like his father instructed him to, but he took a brief break in the smoking room, surprised it was open to the public. The elk's glass eyes glazed over, mouth open to simulate an agonized cry. In a way, it was a work of art.
A hardbody woman, black, holding an empty snifter in one approached the animal, a look of pride reflected in her eyes. Patrick noted the Vivienne Westwood cotton jersey dress and black stockings paired with Westwood pumps to match. Modern, artistic.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Her voice was low, hypnotized by the visage of death before her.
"Bit intense, but I'm sure that's the point." He wondered who the girl was but needed the right opening to ask.
"It was." She tucked her curly hair behind her ear, and a smile spread across her lips. "I chased it for hours..."
He raised a brow, usually not listening but made an exception since she now piqued his interest.
"It was strong, tried to fight the inevitable. So I sped up the process -" A manicured finger pointed to a slit across the Elk's throat, and Patrick could imagine this woman delighting in digging into the creature's entrails and letting it stain her skin. The image brought a rare tingle of excitement to his chest, making his heart pound. Instead of showing his excitement, he turned to her again and returned her smile to match her excitement.
"Patrick Bateman." He introduced himself.
"Belladonna Lewa." Patrick almost dropped his drink at the mention of her surname, her father (and the host of this party) had the influence to tank all of New York in a night and still have money to wipe his ass with, and he's here talking about dead animals with his daughter. Patrick hoped his palms would dry just enough before he shook her hand. "Are you in college too?"
"Harvard, third year." He could imagine cutting away her dress like issue paper.
"Yale, second year." Her eyes were staring directly into his.
If he were lucky, he'd have her. He already felt a connection sparking.
