Chapter Text
two.
The scent was absolutely intoxicating. His big nails –claws, really– were holding the sleeping body with incredible delicacy, also with one arm, and with the other, opening the balcony door. The dangling ornaments on his costume were being loud because he was moving too much. Pierrot moved the curtains very slowly once the balcony door was opened, trying not to move too much and wake you up, which was almost impossible, the dose he put was enough for a few hours.
He laid you on the bed extremely slowly, and watched. He could feel his eyes going from a frantic and neon yellow, moving like crazy, to just black. His vision was getting blurry, like he was the one drugged. He couldn't focus his eyes and neither his mind, but he had not yet lost his other senses. He touched your hand, and sighed, a looooong sigh, as he began to mumble incoherent words to himself, and sometimes, to you. His claws were penetrating the skin, it could almost wake you up. He got close to your neck, his hands moved from your arms to your hair and they other side of your neck. Pierrot began to sniff your hair, smelled it like it was the last thing he was going to do.
"You smell so... good, darling." His eyes narrowed, his knuckles trembled as he was holding your hair with such force, and fear of it all disappearing.
Pierrot positioned his face between the hair and the neck, and continued on sniffing and biting. Your arms were being pressed, your whole body was being pressed by his own. He was letting himself get carried away, and parted your legs to position his figure between them.
Was this sickening? Would've you mind if you were... conscious? If he looked at himself in a mirror, he would've seen the shift of his pupils from pitch black to neon yellow, the constant fight of the morals on him.
Your neck was delicious, the smell was everything, your hair, your ear... Your mouth.
Pierrot looked at your parted lips, red like cherries, even if they were dry. He put his hand on your arm, as if that distance meant anything now. His claws were like a cat playing with a toy.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
One of his claws went from your upper arm down to your wrist and it marked you, not too much that it was dangerous, but enough for blood to come out. It was one long red line, drops of blood began to drop, Pierrot looked at what he had done once he stopped trying to control himself from biting your lips until there were no more lips.
He got scared, as he looked to the scar and to you, to the scar and then to you, again.
"I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry."
Pierrot looked away from the bed and began to desperately look for something to clean the blood with, a towel, paper, anything, before it was all a mess he couldn't clean. His eyes stopped on a towel on the desktop chair, he didn't even have to get up, he stretched his arm and grabbed it, beginning to clean the little drops of red that were coming from your arm.
Pierrot was getting hard from it, the whole situation, the smell of iron from your blood. He stopped cleaning, and smelt the towel. He moaned. Then threw the towel to the floor and grabbed your arm with one hand, smelt it, too. He moaned louder. His lips were kissing the blood and the dry blood too, with the other hand, he went to his pants.
Pierrot did not dare to do what he was planning to do, not yet, at least.
It was too soon, it was all too soon.
And he needed to calm down immediately, before he regretted not taking his time with you.
"Oh, dear. I have–I need– to restrain myself." He mumbled his words to you. "Everything has to be perfect. Like you..." Pierrot grabbed your hand and put it up to his cheek, as he began to kiss and softly bite your palm. He licked your fingers. "I want you to want me. Conscious. Present. You are mine." He put his face to your face, almost touching lips. "Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine." Kissed your chin. "Mine."
Pierrot got up from the bed with tremendous sorrow and pain, he was going to let you wake up, at some point. He looked for the chain he had left in your bedroom early that morning, when you were gone, under the bed it was. This was his plan ever since you helped him a few weeks ago. He had thought about his own place on one of the tents in the circus, but it was going to be too much trouble, and he wanted to have you all to himself. To own you. To consume you like a drug.
The chain was put around the bedpost, and your right hand around that same chain. It was going to be impossible for you to get out, Pierrot thought. He could just sit there, in front of you, and watch you sleep, as he had done so many times before. He could touch your lips, trace them with his finger, touch your hand, your chest, your hair, neck, stomach, legs, thighs. As he's done so, so many times. His favorite part was restraining himself, but it was also the idea of ravishing you, fucking you until you begged him to stop, or to not, to be so overcome with desire that even his violence was hot.
But he couldn't stay. He had to go to the circus, no suspicions, he had to go on with his life as if it hadn't change at all.
He grabbed the chair, and sat directly across from you on the bed. Looking. Watching. Scanning for any movement at all. The blood was dry in his hands, he was savoring it on his lips.
There was a strange smell when you finally woke up, a dizziness in your head and mumbling in your ear. Like a million bees on your brain, like you had drank and drank until your body couldn't contain itself no more, you looked around, there seemed to be some light from the balcony that slipped through the curtains, it was definitely your bedroom. But you did not recall when you got here at all. You closed and open your eyes a few times, and tried to rub your eyes, but your hands were not moving. You looked up. You were tied to your own bed by a chain. You looked directly in front of you. And screamed.
"Don't! Please!" It was Pierrot. His costume was half-buttoned, his hands were dirty, his lips plumped, and his eyes... "Please don't scream!"
"What did you do to me?" You were hysterical, he got close to you and covered your mouth with his big hand, trying not to cover all your face with it.
"Please. Please. Please don't scream. I had to-I couldn't. I wasn't going to do anything you didn't want me to!" You began to frantically move your head, and your whole body. "Please calm down, dear." You tried to bite his hand, but he blushed in response.
He... what?
You moved even more, with his finger on your teeth, you tried to bite as hard as possible, it was not moving him, instead, he seemed to get redder. Blood began to fill your teeth and mouth, and you felt like choking up, felt your eyes getting watery. Pierrot looked at you as his yellow eyes were turning to literal blackness, and he got close to you.
"Swallow it." He put his long finger inside your throat and made you swallow the tiny drops of blood. Your eyes opened as big as possible in surprise and you tried to spit the blood, instead, you began to choke and coughed when he removed his finger from your mouth. You looked at him with tears in your eyes.
"What the fuck did you do?"