If the script gets followed to the letter, you are not really playing. You're holding a funeral for Eros, squeezing a modicum of clammy pleasure from his corpse. The entire realm of extreme sex attracts us because we know we are sickly and overcivilized. But inspiration is a fanged and feral state. If you go knocking on the door of tough love, you ought not to piss and whine if its claws are sharp and its breath a little fetid.
Predators are like that.
They can't help it and won't. As your elder and better, I sincerely advise you to stay at home and watch televised pictures of tigers hunting and copulating. Do not willingly go among them and offer your own flesh for their consumption or instruction.