10-15-2017, 10:55 PM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
“Everything.” The scaled creature replies, truthful at last. He wants everything that she will give him, and everything that he can take. He is a more selective predator than the little bat. There is a season to his hunting, criteria for his prey. Karaugh meets them all, and the sweet smell of decaying leaves below the autumnal canopy is enough season for Ivar. She wants him as a stallion, and perhaps as something more. The gasp she takes at his firm hold is more than fear, and for the first time he wonders if perhaps she might give him more than he had previously anticipated. When she slides the tip of her wing against his shoulder, he releases his hold on her withers. Instead he ducks his head, reaching for the forearm of her wing, the solid bone to which the rest of her wing connects. He means to bite it, to crush it between his powerful jaws and render her flightless. He had come to drain her dry, to leave her on the border as a warning to the red-eyed king. Seduction had only been a means to an end, but he suspects that the uptick in her heartbeat at his teeth on her skin was not the easy fear he had anticipated. Karaugh had liked it, he realizes, and he wonders if she will enjoy being pinned to beneath him, her broken wing a sharp counterpoint to the ecstasy of orgasm. He cannot fathom such a thing with his gentle lover; she deserves soft touches, gentle words, kingdness. Karaugh is the enemy, and deserves what he will give her – pain and pleasure alike. |