(no subject)
Characters:
Rating: R (for violence, in the LEAST)
Time Period: Modern
Location: Isaack's cabin
Relative Date: Currently
Status: CLOSED FOR NOW; MAY OPEN DEPENDING ON OUTCOME
Dorian Gray had been addicted to a number of things in his life. It was easy in his time, when what were now commonly regarded as the most depraved street drugs were absolutely ordinary pharmaceuticals, with no notion of their effect. Cocaine was used to treat children's toothaches, and opium was in nearly anything meant to calm a cough or the nerves or anything at all. Though Dorian had never been 'accidentally' into opium. He usually spent a few nights a week sprawled half-naked on Chinese cushions, a long pipe dangling from his fingers and his mind absolutely gone. When he was home, it was easy enough to lay in bed with a silver syringe and shoot morphine into his thighs. Cocaine could likewise be injected (as his acquaintance Mr. Holmes would well know). Laudanum for sleep could be abused. There was a veritable flood of liquors in his cabinet. Absinthe brought anguish and ecstasy, depending on the measure taken. And there were the endless cigarettes. Dorian could not imagine a moment he had lived in London that he had not had one of Lord Henry's opium-laced Cairo cigarettes between his lips. Sometimes he smoked inferior tobaccos, but Harry's was the best. He missed it dearly.
But nothing in all the world had made him feel the way Isaack's bite and blood made him feel. It was like nothing else he could have dreamed of.
It had taken a day or two before Dorian wanted it again. At first he ignored it, assuming he just wanted the lay with Isaack as a lover. The two urges were quite similar at first. And he wasn't in the mood to deal with Isaack's rough handling in that department. But as the days progressed it became unbearable and nothing he did fulfilled the...itching under his skin. After a week he got physically sick.
So He went down in the middle of the night to Isaack's cabin and knocked sweetly on the door. He aimed to trade Isaack for what he wanted.
But just in case Isaack wasn't feeling generous, there was a long thin knife from the kitchen hidden in his coat.
Rating: R (for violence, in the LEAST)
Time Period: Modern
Location: Isaack's cabin
Relative Date: Currently
Status: CLOSED FOR NOW; MAY OPEN DEPENDING ON OUTCOME
Dorian Gray had been addicted to a number of things in his life. It was easy in his time, when what were now commonly regarded as the most depraved street drugs were absolutely ordinary pharmaceuticals, with no notion of their effect. Cocaine was used to treat children's toothaches, and opium was in nearly anything meant to calm a cough or the nerves or anything at all. Though Dorian had never been 'accidentally' into opium. He usually spent a few nights a week sprawled half-naked on Chinese cushions, a long pipe dangling from his fingers and his mind absolutely gone. When he was home, it was easy enough to lay in bed with a silver syringe and shoot morphine into his thighs. Cocaine could likewise be injected (as his acquaintance Mr. Holmes would well know). Laudanum for sleep could be abused. There was a veritable flood of liquors in his cabinet. Absinthe brought anguish and ecstasy, depending on the measure taken. And there were the endless cigarettes. Dorian could not imagine a moment he had lived in London that he had not had one of Lord Henry's opium-laced Cairo cigarettes between his lips. Sometimes he smoked inferior tobaccos, but Harry's was the best. He missed it dearly.
But nothing in all the world had made him feel the way Isaack's bite and blood made him feel. It was like nothing else he could have dreamed of.
It had taken a day or two before Dorian wanted it again. At first he ignored it, assuming he just wanted the lay with Isaack as a lover. The two urges were quite similar at first. And he wasn't in the mood to deal with Isaack's rough handling in that department. But as the days progressed it became unbearable and nothing he did fulfilled the...itching under his skin. After a week he got physically sick.
So He went down in the middle of the night to Isaack's cabin and knocked sweetly on the door. He aimed to trade Isaack for what he wanted.
But just in case Isaack wasn't feeling generous, there was a long thin knife from the kitchen hidden in his coat.