Apex Predator

[CharlieWasHere]

The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

*Note: This is something I wrote on FetLife a long time ago. Thought I'd re-share it here.

Part 1: Ruse

Ever wonder why hierarchy is so prevalent in our society? Because no one wants to be on the bottom getting fucked. So we fight. Go for the throat and hope that we get to them before they get to us. That's what lions do. Dog eat dog world.

So what is it that separates us from the animals?

A sense of morality?
A purpose in life?
Opposable thumbs?

What about our ability to reason? To realize that compromise may sometimes be in our best interest. Adam Smith is famous for his supposition of the "invisible hand," that just because a decision is made it wasn't made from a place of goodness but rather self-interest. Sounds pretty conceited.

Right?

You may work not necessarily to contribute to a larger cause but more likely to bring home a paycheck. Just as a lion may kill a gazelle not to maintain a manageable population density but simply because he's hungry.

Instinct.
Self preservation.
… And enjoyment?

Does a lion ever kill a wildebeest because he enjoys the feeling of blood trickling across his tongue as the wildebeest's pulse slows to murmur? Maybe, maybe not.

Would a man ever take a woman against her will simply because he enjoys it? Invisible hand mind you. Under normal circumstances he would court her; take her a few times to a fancy restaurant, or maybe they would gallivant in the local park. He learns her favorite color, flower, what type of music she enjoys the most, and, if pheromones should have their way as nature intended, the relationship would involve sex. Never mind whether it's good or bad.

Not him. He was not what you would consider… normal.

Sure, he didn't mind the idea of dating, and sex by all means was fun to him...

But she...

She elicited a primal desire deep in his gut. Primal not primitive mind you. No, he was very aware of the nature of agreement. Adam Smith wasn't the only one to consider self interest. John Forbes Nash, Jr. developed his own theory in which all parties are aware of each other's strategies. Each party has made the best choice possible while aware of the others’, but if everyone does not wish to change they have reached Nash Equilibrium. Put simply, if three friends all decide to go out to eat they must all decide on a food upon which they can agree. Do what's best for yourself and the group, and you'll have the best outcome overall.

Still he played the game. He made friends with her, shared laughs, stories, and the likes. Information exchange was crucial to him. But information could only satisfy him for so long until instinct took hold.

A giggle.
A gleam in the eye.
A grin that would put the Joker to shame.

No, he was not like most people. Most people prefer the sunshine to the overcast above. A quick tip of his head alerted him to the light rain. But he liked it. He liked how the rain brought the cold with it. He did not care for the sunshine, as it mostly hurt his eyes and elevated his body temperature to an uncomfortable level. Yet, he understood the need for the sun. Yes, the rain brings life… but so does the sun.

Opening his umbrella to cover the both of them brought temporary relief from the prickling rain. He asked her if she would like to go inside to perhaps watch a movie or that TV show with the funny cops. Agreement. Her ascent up the stairs to the door offered him a chance to pat his right pocket. They both shed their coats and grabbed drinks in a ritualistic manner. The TV was only an illusion of a distracted mind. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't just going to take it like some animal.

… Right?

Remember that thing aforementioned about Nash Equilibrium?

This isn't one of those moments.

Part 2 - Choke Point

He sipped on his drink like he always did, watching the TV as if it were gospel. At least that's what his eyes did. His mind on the other hand preached a different sermon. He was careful to look calm, casual, and collected. No need to cause an unnecessary stir. His anticipation gnawed at his stomach and tapped the inside of his skull demanding some kind of action.

Patience was never his forte… at least when it came to what he had in mind.

She watched the TV as well, like always. Her demeanor matched his. She was calm, sipping her drink with habit. Not once did she look over to check if something was amiss. She didn't notice the shaking hand or the heavier breathing or even the look of unexpected attention. All came from the seat next to her.

"Hey can I see the remote?"taphe asked. She handed over the device and he paged through the channels, searching for something of interest. Finding a channel they both liked, he traded his remotetapfor his drink. Taking another swig, he said, "Would you be opposed to knife play?"

She tilted her head, "Mmtapm I wouldn't be opposed to it I don't think, as long as I don't lose an arm or anything crazy like that." She took a drink. "Whytapdo you ask?"

Without looking away from the TV he said, "Just somethingtapI've been considering." His right leg shifted. "I mean, aside from blood play, it can also be used as a tool to incorporate fear."tap

"Yeah, it could."tapShe looked at him and smiled playfullytap, "Why?tapAre you thinking of using a knife ontapme?"

He inhaled.tap"Yeah acttapually, Itapam."

"When?"Tap

He took his final drink. "Now."

TAP

He reached for the back of her head, entangled a mass of hair in his fist, and shoved her off the couch and onto the floor. "OW! What the-?" Her voice was cut off by the sight of the knife he kept patting in his right pocket. Now open, it reflected his intentions. Pouncing on his unsuspecting prey, he brought the knife closer to her throat, ignoring her jeers to knock it off. Instead of complying with her demands, he caved to his wishes and began tracing the tip of the blade across her trachea.

He didn't tell her to not move.

She didn't need to hear it.

He tracked the path upwards towards her jawline then onto her cheek. She eased away, prompting him to push the flat of the blade oh so closer into her delicate skin. She stopped, eyes wincing in uncertainty. He wasn't really going to cut her...

Was he?

No, of course not. He had better self control than that. No, he just teased her with the possibility of physical harm. While he held the knife in place, he gave a simple but firm command.

"Turn over."

Part 3 - Absolution

Lions. Nash equilibrium. Self-interest. All relative.

All unimportant at a moment like this.

He began his attack with a bite to the neck. Hearing the distressed cries of his prey only added to the excitement and heightened his arousal. He tossed the knife aside in an almost cocky manner. No longer was it needed to instill fear and uncertainty. His hands gripped at her throat and hip, ready to tear into the prize writhing underneath him.

I'm not going into detail what happened next because it's unnecessary. A lion attack is bathed in practical sense, not finite curiosity. You know what happened.

And yet… is it enough?

Is knowing what happened enough to satisfy the desire for understanding?

Why?

Why did he yank her jeans around her knees and undo his own buckle? Was it not enough to instill fear and display power? Why is it that he let her bite down on his thumb so that when he entered her from behind he felt her pain? Was it not enough to see the dread in her eyes and to hear the distressed sound of a feminine voice? Why is it that when he finished, he kissed her on the cheek and asked her if she was alright? Was it not enough to just sit there and admire her beauty?

No. It wasn't.

He needed to understand: understand why he found her beauty mesmerizing, understand why the sound of her laugh painted a smile on his face, understand why the thought of her stirred desire in his body, understand why the smell of her own desire caused a craving for more.

Desire is tricky… and at times unbearably intoxicating.

He began to realize that he may never understand why desire prompted him to do the things he did. To know that he held desire for her was important to him. To understand its origin remained an enigma.

He laid next to his prize, stroked her hair, and smiled rather subtly. After all, he was rather… fond of her. She lifted a tired head and gazed in his direction. A quick smack to the face gave him his answer.

She was fine.