don't fret precious I'm here

[GRIGORI PETREYICH VOLKOV]

A stream of Russian swear words poured from his mouth as he fucked the young nurse from behind on his uncomfortable bed, one hand holding her thigh up in a way that allowed him to get the perfect angle, the other roughly grasping her hair, pushing her face into the mattress so hard into the mattress that she was just barely getting enough oxygen. She didn’t mind this –although even if she did, Grigori wouldn’t give a shit- as the rough treatment seemed to turn her on more, if the muffled pleasure-filled cries and her quick thrusts back were anything to go by.

Finally, with a growl-like moan, he came, digging his fingers into her thigh so tightly that his fingernails pierced her skin and he felt her warm blood cover his fingertips. Shivering with pleasure at the thought of the cuts blood running over the many bruises and bite marks that already littered the area, Grigori almost felt like he could go for round two.

However, his pleasure was not the purpose of this.

Still inside her, he moved the hand on her thigh to the dip between her shoulder blades and harshly pulled her head back by her hair until her neck looked like it would rip open if it went any farther back. A pained moan emitted from lips bloodied by the sharp bites he’d given them, but she clenched around his cock and ground against him, quivering with want. He felt his cock twitch, and the image of him ripping her throat open with his teeth as he came again flashed through his mind, but he pushed it down, pulling out so he could focus on his goal.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against her ear and growled out, “now zat I’ve given you vhat you vant, you vill give me vhat I vant. You are going to report I have shown good behaviour. Zat I should be allowed free of zis fucking little prison you call a room. If zis does not happen, you vill have great regret.”

[/b]

With that, he sat up and threw her to the floor by her hair, chuckling cruelly at her surprised yelp. Still kneeling on the bed, he watched her quickly gather what clothes she could find –chuckling when she couldn’t locate her thong, knowing that it was hidden underneath his pillows- and put them on, trying to straighten them and then her hair out to make herself look presentable before hastily leaving the room.

The next day, he was given permission to the rest of the building and the grounds; the latter being his main goal, which he immediately made use of, as he had felt himself slowly going mad constantly being surrounded by walls and hated that his small room limited his exercise routine.

Grigori just stood and scanned the grounds for the first few minutes, noting that they were empty (not surprising him, since it was still early morning, the sky was a dark, dim grey that threatened the area with heavy snow, and a steady, sharp wind had already built up), which suited him just fine. He knew if their were nurses about they’d nag him to go inside and change, as he was just in a worn pair of jeans and an off-white, unzipped hoodie that revealed the thin plaid shirt underneath; but he didn’t need anything else for we was hot-blooded and had experienced much colder back home.

Plus, he intended to exercise.

For a couple hours he just jogged the perimeter, keeping a steady pace after breaking a path through the hindering snow. Then he strode over to a playground –which seemed horribly cheery and out of place surrounded by the foreboding walls of the asylum- and did pull-ups on the monkey bars until his muscles shook with the effort.

Deciding this enough for one day, Grigori climbed onto the playground and –with some difficulty due to his size– slipped into one of the tubes where he was protected from the wind, which was now bitterly attacking his sweaty skin. Lying down in it, he put his arms behind his head for a pillow, closed his eyes, and relaxed for the first time since he'd arrived. [/blockquote][/size]

tags:[/b] Ollie
words: 703
outfit: click here
song:[/b] Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle

[LORENZO OLLIE SHAW]

Constantly watching, eyes with their different hues never leaving, never giving up. It was only wake up time and already they were there. Lorenzo-Oliver had never had the kind of supervision that he had now, even in prison the guards left at some time during the day for a bathroom or coffee break, but these nurses they just stayed at the foot of his bed waiting for the moment to move. Everything had led up to this; the constant isolation, sneaking out at night, stealing, killing, etcetera, it was all just a catalyst for the custody that now poisoned every one of his steps. Normally the nocturnal high risk patient would wait until the early afternoon to rise from his bed but he hated that the nurses –robots- stared him down like a piece of meat. “Well then ladies I think that is enough sleeping for one night, I'm going to get dressed and then head off to my daily duties.” He announced like some high risen king. He hoped that they would all leave; he had to have some privacy right? But just like the previous day his full time nurse remained seated while the rest left to stand just outside the door. Lucinda had been there from the start, a young woman with curly blonde locks and an attractive hour glass figure. She was the only administration that he would talk to other than vague irritable statements. Lucinda, the woman in white, bags under her eyes and vacant expression. “How come you never give me privacy, I never did anything to you. I never misbehave for you Luci.” He said while taking off his pyjamas and stripping down to nothing. It was just like Ollie to let himself hang out for her to see, wishing she would take the bait, when she never did. After moments of silence he finished growing get dressed, he was tired of her ignoring him like a pet with no ears so he slithered into his tight jeans and a baggy striped sweater that hid his skinny shape. “Well then, let’s go.” he finished, walking past her and opening the door only to be again with the vultures with eyes.

First of the agenda was breakfast, a dual serving of orange juice –mostly because he refused to eat. The bitterness bothered him most of all, the pulp getting stuck in the metal mouth guard that prevented the boy from biting anyone… the juice obviously wasn’t minute maid. All around him sat the girls, too old for his taste in meat but they still provoked his madness. He needed to get rid of them, the tension around the group of scared nurses was too much for a mental patient to handle, and without taking his morning dose of Neurontin which settled his nerves. The wrongly prescribed medication was the only thing that mellowed Ollie out. With that he wouldn’t have been fazed with the eyes around him watching him down a bottle of juice, but without… he was constantly on edge. “ So ladies do you think that I can go outside before it gets to sunny to be out there?” Ollie asked putting fists on the table and causing the woman on one side shiver. He wanted to laugh, but knew nothing good would come out of it so he lowered his head until they considered the risk of taking him outside. After a little discussion it was decided that Luci would take the boy outside while the others went back to their original jobs for the time being. The choice of supervision was sketchy and with it not being time to take his meds there was no telling what the boy could do to the nurse when it was one on one.

Before heading out to the grounds Ollie decided that it would be best to look like a normal person so he put on a scarf and some boots which prepared him for the outside weather. Not like the cold-immune boy needed the extra protection, but he used the winter attire to hide his bare flesh from the sunlight if it so ever leaked through the clouds. Having his allergy to sunlight bothered him and everyone that had ever had to deal with him, mother and father never really cared, they told him to suck it up, and after that his life had to be altered to fit the sun’s schedule. Outside he was pleased that the morning’s night still clung to the world for the moments that he would be outside. Passing through the garden and courtyard he came again to the place where he went when he wanted to burn the world –a perfect place for the rigidness that he felt with the nurses. “you sit over there and I will be over here, I need some space to think I promise that I will be good, and you are still watching me, but from afar.” Ollie told the nurse who looked at him and silently walked away. She was more a silent type since working here, the hospital taking a toile on the young nurse, she was lifeless now, a perfect employee to a corrupt experiment.

Oliver walked over to the swings and stayed there waiting for it to snow around him. He wanted to be in the open if the snow started to fall around him, he would catch the flakes in his hands and maybe feel them, he wanted to know cold.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

TAGGED:: GRIGORI?
WORDS:: 916
LYRICS BY:: SEX ON FIRE - KINGS OF LEON
OUTFIT:: CLICK
CREDIT TO:: RORA AT HOS

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[GRIGORI PETREYICH VOLKOV]

The thrill of triumph coursed through his veins, mixing in with the thrill of the hunt that his heart had already been juicing his body with. Their prey –a male teenager, no older than sixteen, with brilliantly white blonde hair and an ass that rivalled J. Lo’s- had tried to lose them in the alleyways, not knowing it was the biggest mistake he could make. Grigori and his pack knew the alleyways better than the people who made them, and cornering someone in them was considered easy game.

The proof of this once again before him, as the blonde was pressed against a remorseless brick wall, and his pack mates each came from the two alleyways on his left and right, Grigori blocking the last escape route directly in front of him. The female cackled at their prey, shivering with excitement over what was to come, and Grigori let her, knowing that the surrounding buildings were for business’s that had been long closed for the night.

Sharing a hungry look with the male, who he saw already had his knife out, ready to play, Grigori strode over to the whimpering and pleading blonde. Licking his lips, cock hard and straining against his jeans, he reached out a hand to squeeze the teen’s throat; but instead of grasping it, he was grasping his male pack mate’s, who was suddenly was in front of him.

They were back in their home, hands and fronts covered in blood –the taste of it still on Grigori’s tongue, making his mouth water for more- and the scent of sex clinging to them. Grigori loosened his grasp on the smaller male’s neck, but didn’t fully let go, choosing to rub in the half-dry blood that had run down from his mouth. The teen didn’t seem to notice though. Not even the initial tight hold meant to make the blonde struggle made him react. He just stared back as Grigori with flat, glassy eyes and said, “you sit over there and I will be over here, I need some space to think I promise that I will be good, and you are still watching me, but from afar.”

However, as he spoke, Grigori’s sense was going into upheaval: the teen was fading in and out of focus, sometimes being swallowed by red, his body was drifting away, and he could hear doubles of the words being spoken…

With a violent twitch that jolted his whole body, Grigori woke up, disoriented and staring up at the red plastic of the tube with confusion. Until the end, his dream was from memory, and it had felt so real he was having trouble accepting he wasn’t still there. The redness around him told him differently, and the sound of swing chains creaking made Grigori’s curiosity roughly push fantasy aside. Grasping the edges of the tube end near his hands, Grigori smoothly slid himself out. Getting up, he went to the brightly painted railing and leaned against it, looking over the surrounding area and quickly spotting the source of the noise, which made his eyes widen in surprise.

Am I still dreaming? Grigori thought, feeling slightly dazed as he stared down at the oh-so-familiar male. There were some differences, yes, but ones that spending any length of time in the asylum could be the cause of. He could picture that face covered in blood, smiling in contentment over another night of successful violent escapades. How he looked when he found Grigori and the female. The way his mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ when he came.

But I can’t get ahead of myself; the odds are too slim. And how long has it been since I’ve seen my pack? A year, at least –too long for me to have a perfect recollection of their faces.

[/I]He couldn’t even remember their names, as their communication had seemed to mostly be through actions, none of them willing to truly open up quite yet, not knowing that their time together would be cut so short.

Standing up straight, Grigori decided that even if the other male wasn’t who he that he was, he would still be almost as much fun to play with. Loose nurses weren’t his fuck of choice, and their minds either too dull or dumb to bother getting to know.

Jumping off the low landing to the snow-covered sand and striding over to the swings, Grigori grinned wolfishly at the smaller male before sitting on the one next to him, taking in the way his sweater hung loosely on a frame too skinny and his dark, tired eyes that stood out against his pale, somewhat gaunt, face.

“Little pup,”[/b] Grigori said in Russian, his voice low and rough. Even though Grigori didn’t know the teen’s identity for sure, he couldn’t help feeling warmly towards him. In English, he continued, “are you not cold?” [/b][/blockquote][/size]

tags:[/b] Ollie
words: 813
outfit: Same as previous post
song:[/b] Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle

[LORENZO OLLIE SHAW]

Up, down, forwards, back, the wind blowing black hair against skin. Ollie loved the swings; they were the only part of this place that absolutely calmed the boy. The wind started once the swing decided to move which filled the clothed boy with delight. Still, he watched the nurse with shifty eyes. The confinement of freedom from both the watching, and the clothes around him bothered the small wolfish boy, and although he was swinging the anger began to set in. “what if I just killed her, stuffed her in the tube and waited for her to be found like a good boy. It would be an act of random anger and knowing my diagnosis they would have to forgive me. I wouldn’t even bite her; I would just snap her neck and wait. But my… what a perfect waste.” Oliver thought to himself. The thought was dangerous, he was defiantly down the to point where if he did anything bad anymore he would be spending the rest of his time here in isolation. Isolation… a bricked in room with padded walls and no lights of connection of the world. Isolation was like his life here, bricked in, padded, and no connection to his pack. The wolf was truly alone and didn’t care much about the threats anymore. He could kill everyone in this place and even death would be a better substitute to the loneliness. Ollie’s feet kicked the ground hitting the snow with a thud. Ice, it seeped into his worn grey boots giving him discomfort. There was nothing better than wet feet nothing. “Shit he cursed under his breath, trying to keep the nurse out of his business. Oliver then took off the shoes and dipped his feet in the snow kicking the boots just beyond his reach if anyone came and he needed to shove them back on, and then he heard it. “little pup

[/b]” the name caused him to fall back, falling into the snow in shock

Flashing red lights, they chase in the background behind the three wolves. Troubled little things these wolves, only trying to get some dinner but the farmer doesn’t like their choice ‘cause it was his daughter. Down on the ground they trip and fall under the farmer's fork beaten and skinned like the bad little wolves they are. The woman taken away first clawing at the others crying that she’s not at fault but the farmer oh he killed her fast, put her in the van and took her away. Next was the hollow one who took off kicking and screaming meeting his fate in a high brick tower far away from the rest of his pack. The thought faded with Oliver getting taken away for the crimes of the pack's last escapades. What a strange vision, harshest since leaving the streets and coming into this place. Because of the heavy medication he had all but all the memories of his pack had vanished. He was just a patient at Aldridge resort and nothing before or since had changed that. Ollie looked at his nurse before looking back at the stranger. She was reading a Dan Brown novel so he felt as though she wouldn’t notice if he talked to another person.

“No, who’s asking. Anyone with half a mind would know that the cold likes me… unlike all of you. I'm special.” Oliver said before turning his head to face the intruder. Blue eyes, electric with intensity. ‘ il mio fratello?’ Oliver thought, regaining his memory again of the pack that was more like his family than the human one that he had long since forgotten. How could it be that one of his closest mates be in this place, Oliver thought that they were both dead, dead or in jail for life… this must be a hallucination. “hi. Who are you?” he asked trying the find an explanation for the familiar vision in front of him.


[/justify]

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

TAGGED:: GRIGORI?
WORDS:: 684
LYRICS BY:: SEX ON FIRE - KINGS OF LEON
OUTFIT:: CLICK
CREDIT TO:: RORA AT HOS

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[GRIGORI PETREYICH VOLKOV]

Grigori chuckled at the dark-haired male’s reaction and took a moment to enjoy the sight of him on his back.
He immediately decided was the perfect position for the teen.

Not bothering to help him up, Grigori instead took advantage of the daze he seemed to be in to look him over, soaking up all the similarities in his features with a hope he rarely allowed himself to have. In the beginning of his captivity he’d clung to the memories of his pack, their faces constantly on his mind throughout the day (and of course, their bodies often joining in for his more primal thoughts at night). As the weeks became months and it finally hit him that the next twenty-five years at least would be spent following the same current pattern of being shuffled between jails and mental institutions, Grigori finally pushed thoughts of them away since he’d more likely be struck by lightening than meet them again.

Now it looks like the odds are in my favour. A good thing too –being struck by lightening would be unpleasant.

The teen seemed to come out of his daze, though he didn’t immediately pay him any attention, and upon following his gaze Grigori noticed a nurse, absorbed in a book over at a far –but unfortunately still close enough to have a clear sight of them- off bench. Grigori frowned in annoyance at not having not noticed her and cursed the many confining stonewalls for dulling his senses and making him inattentive to his surroundings.

His gaze didn’t immediately fall back to the other male when he spoke, still staring at the nurse and assessing the distance between her and her nearest escape routes (should she prove problematic to them), though he did listen. Chuckling at the male’s statement and turning his gaze back, Grigori met the stare of the teen’s dark eyes, which seemed to be seeing something more than his own blue ones.

If the odds are truly in my favour, than he’s seeing what I’m seeing, Grigori thought wistfully. He hated how hopeful he’d allowed himself to get, but it was too late to turn back now.

And really, I haven’t had hopes for anything in almost a year. If these ones prove correct I’ll consider that my reward. If not…well, lesson learned.

With the teens inquiry to his name Grigori chuckled again, though it was darkly this time. After all, only strangers ask names.

Getting up from the swing, he moved until he was standing just behind the teen’s head and, leaning forward enough so the he could hold eye contact, stared down at him with a smirk, his hands loosely tucked into his jean pockets.

“I am Grigori. And who are you really, Special? I have trouble believing zat you actually are. Especially not in a place vhere everyone is ‘special.’ If ze cold really liked you it vould bid ze vind to blow down ze fence and free you. Instead, it has left you a fool in ze snow.”

[/b]

Glancing down the young male’s body, Grigori noticed that his shoes were off and his feet an angry red, making him want to both backhand him for being an idiot and put him in a safe, warm place. Returning his gaze to the teen, Grigori glared and snarled, “Put your damn shoes on. Just because you’re too much of a fool to notice ze cold doesn’t mean it von’t hurt you.”[/b]

Mentally he added, and you had better put them on, or I will certainly hurt you even if the cold doesn’t![/I]

Only, in an odd way, his behaviour was reassuring. While Grigori couldn’t remember if the male pack mate had been like this when it came to cold (or so careless), Grigori could remember him shedding clothing at the most inappropriate times –not to mention sometimes being a lippy little fuck. He also reasoned that the carelessness over possible harm to himself could easily be attributed to the life-sucking abilities that Aldridge seemed to specialize in.

[Since you didn’t say anything about Ollie getting up and/or back onto the swing, I just assumed his was still lying on the ground. Sorry if that wasn’t your intent. )x
Though really, it seems like an Ollie thing to do, lol.] [/blockquote][/size]

tags:[/b] Ollie
words: 673
outfit: Same as first post
song:[/b] Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle