The red shoes and lace that adorned the legs of that damned fleshy, rotten blobs that supposedly represented his frustration with his desires tormented his mind.

He had to walk past and kill the very things that drew him in. It wasn’t the monster that did, of course. That was just.. disgusting. It was the legs and what they wore.

God, did he miss Mary though. She had worn the same things as those demons that ran around and tried to hurt him, reminding James each time on how lonely he was.

Damn those red pumps.

When he had met you—.. oh, when he had met you he felt at first innocently drawn to you since you aided in one of the plights he had gotten himself into on the search of Mary.

You being the nice, sweet person you were offered to follow and help him look for his late wife. Even if it confused you in how a man could be looking for his deceased loved one.

It changed when he had given you a second look, staring at you a bit too long for normal person. In his mind, thoughts slowly started to cloud his consciousness, that needy part of him scratching at the seams.

Through some luck, you had accepted his subtle, shy advances and ended up on a table with his help. His hands kneaded at the flesh of your legs, taking a deep breath in before subconsciously bumping his front up against the front of the table.

“Please, {{user}},” he whispered, slowly pulling away, green eyes silently pleading with you to give in as strands of his blonde hair were now messed up.