Page 2 of Primal Urges

Was it true love? Or just a desire to maintain control?

As he said, “love” was the cause of so many tragedies.

Lucas knew that his outlook on love was grim, but in retrospect, how many atrocities had been committed in the name of love?

The bedroom door swung open, momentarily blinding him as the light from the hallway assaulted his eyes.

Lucas jumped, startled as the door slammed against the wall.

He must have heard that sound a thousand times, yet each time, it was just as terrifying as the first. It wasn’t the sound he feared, per se, but rather what came next.

Him.

Stumbling into the bedroom, breath smelling like cheap whiskey, his once knight in shining armor reached for the door and steadied himself.

“There ya are, you fuckin’ prick.”

Lucas didn’t look up. Instead, he pulled his knees closer to his chest and began counting the seconds until he would receive his first blow. It was always to the cheek.

For some reason, that appeared to be Darryl’s signature move. One strong blow to the face, followed by a tug on his arm to pull him to his feet.

Right on cue, the first of many stars flashed across Lucas’s eyes as his boyfriend’s knuckles greeted his cheekbone.

Lucas fell to the side. Given that he was already huddled on the floor, his body didn’t have far to travel.

A large, meaty paw grabbed hold of Lucas’s once-soft skin, tightening his grip before yanking him to his feet.

“Why you been hidin’?” the man he had come to loathe snarled before tossing Lucas’s body across the room as if he weighed nothing.

His body struck the bed before bouncing off and landing on the hardwood floor—the site of countless scraped knees and sore jaws.

No. Those were not the pains one enjoyed in the throes of passion; those were the pains one suffered when they allowed a monster into their bedroom.

“Come here. Give me those pretty lips,” Darryl slurred once again, this time using his free hand to tug Lucas’s face toward his manhood.

There had been a period… once upon a time, when Lucas found all this aggression a massive turn-on. But there was a fine line between macho aggression in the bedroom and full-fledged drunken domestic violence.

This, right here, was the latter.

Lucas struggled against Darryl’s pull, knowing that he only had to fight him off for just a few more minutes…hopefully.

The sleeping pills he had dumped into his boyfriend’s bottle of whiskey should have kicked in by now. He had used triple the recommended dosage, taking into account the massive size of Darryl’s body and the hope that the drugs would knock him out as quickly as possible.

Having a boyfriend who was six foot four was hot in theory, but not when that massive body was being used against you… to hurt you, intimidate you, and even prevent you from leaving. Kind of like tonight.

He knew the only way he could ever escape Darryl’s clutches was to vanish into the night while the man was unconscious. Thus, the sleeping pills.

While Lucas might hate the man’s guts, he also didn’t want to kill the abusive bastard.

Cold, wet liquid splashed against Lucas’s cheek as Darryl lifted the bottle to his lips to take another heaving sip.

Drink. Drink up, you fucking bastard. I hope that you pass out and smash your goddamn face against that hideous dresser that you bought from one of your fucked-up friends.

He watched as the bottle slowly slipped from his boyfriend’s fingers. Lucas smiled. Darryl took an uneasy step backward, nearly losing his balance in the process.

“Wow. That was a trippy… bastar…” Darryl placed his hand on the mattress, attempting to steady himself and regain his commanding position over Lucas’s body.

“Come. Boy. Suck my di…”

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