"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The anticipation of his reply did not disappoint as he encouraged the tightening of her grasp upon him. Stretching the glow once more she tangled the full force of her fear around him, her eyes glossing over as she lost herself to his struggle. Delighting in the sound of his heart as it skipped beats his smile is lost to her. Baring her teeth she wrapped them in the red hot blanket of terror. She could feel his life force as it shuddered and struggled against her onslaught.
He wanted to own her, to hide her away but she would show him that she was capable of so much more than he could possible imagine. The ragged leather of her wings unfurled, the size of them far too small to be of much use to her. They would grow, she knew, and soon she would soar above the land raining down her terror wherever she went. Positioned along the thick bony frame of her wings, pointed barbs interrupted the otherwise smooth exterior. She was frightening to behold and that aesthetic would only be enhanced once her horns fully developed.
He should be proud to have her. A terrifying symbol of all that he desired to accomplish.
Pressing once more she delighted in the strangled rasp of his breath. He was hers and she watched as the life slowly faded from his icy stare.
I'm every nightmare you've ever had, I'm your worst dream come true.
Death was where he became most himself.
He'd always been obsessed with the idea. He'd practiced cutting close to the tender veins of his neck and legs too often as a child, watching as thick pools of blood would gush down his dark exterior. He murdered and stole the hearts of those he pleased, never caring who he harmed in the process.
It isn't much different now, as the familiar feeling of death wafted over him. It never failed to surprise him how peaceful it was. His rapid beating heart slows, the pain in his shoulder subsides. His icy eyes close as he allows her to take complete control of him (which is something he does not often do). Astarael takes him into her deadly embrace and he can't help but feel something different with her...it wasn't like the spark he had with his flame, or the common ground he'd had with his laughing lady. No, this was completely foreign to him.
He was her clown now, and she was his Demon Queen. Oh the trouble they could cause.
Modicum Mortem
@[Astarael] let's just pretend they said their names. lmfao. xD
The anticipation of his surrender is short live and disappointment coarse through her veins as she considers him at her feet. Eyes closed he doesnt see her as she circles him in search of the king she'd heard ruled the Sylvan forest. Prone and submissive she tsked her tongue with regret and realization. With one final squeeze upon his heart she back away, withdrawing her power just enough to leave him stuttering.
"Pathetic," she scoffed in disgust. "You would surrender so easily to me? An Ischain bred bastard?"
She spit in his direction, her stream of sylvia just narrowly missing the red bulb upon his nose.
"It appears, to me," she continued boldly. "That you need me more than I need you."
It was odd, the effect of having one's fear detached. It was almost freeing and she found herself able to speak whatever truth popped into her pretty little head. She was no longer ashamed of her identity. Chosing, instead to don it like a badge of honor - fuel for her rage.
I'm every nightmare you've ever had, I'm your worst dream come true.
She is something of a quick switch, and as he awakens from his deathly slumber, she is there to scold him. A low growl reverberates in his throat as he lifts himself from the snowy floor.
He narrowly avoids the spit, shifting left so that it isn’t able to touch him. She’s disrespectful, hot-headed…and god does it turn him on.
“You haven’t the faintest clue of what you’re capable of,” He states, words biting as he drifts closer once more. What was with him and this cat and mouse game? Usually he wouldn’t continue (but then again, he normally wasn’t the mouse). “Id be foolish to say I didn’t need you. We can harness your rage, use it to conquer everything in our path…” Her aura is not nearly as strong now, as he steps up to her towering frame once more. Ebony maw traces the delicate curve of her neck, breathes in her scent. “You are not a bastard of Ischia. Be a queen, like you deserve.”
05-15-2018, 08:15 PM (This post was last modified: 05-15-2018, 08:16 PM by Astarael.)
The forest is eerily still for a moment as nothing lingers between the horses except the thrum of their beating hearts, his significantly weaker than her own. Gazing down at him she drank in the glories of her efforts, ambition renewed by the sight of his prone at her feet. Patiently she waits as his strength slowly returns to him and, with a growl lifts himself off of his snowy bed. Provoked by her self-degradation a shift within him garnered her attention once more. Inching closer to her hot adrenaline pricked down the length of her body. Stone still she listened, her ears swiveling to catch every spoken word.
At long last he recognized his need for her and she smiled once more. It is then that his mouth is upon her, a gesture that is altogether unfamiliar as the edges of teeth find the soft spot behind her neck. His inhale is not lost to her ears as he names her his queen.
A new sensation rose up from the depths of her as she surrenders to his touch. Almost violently she grants him the gift of her own teeth, mirroring his movements as she pressed herself more tightly against him. She was young, she remembered, and the touch of a man was still yet a complete mystery. Yet, she was willing to give herself completely to the Modicum Mortem, however undeserving he might have been.
OOC: @[Modicum Mortem] sorry if my tenses are all over the place!
EDIT to add, go ahead. He can do whatever he wants to do to her. You have my consent.
I'm every nightmare you've ever had, I'm your worst dream come true.
However wicked and conniving he may be, he was still a man, and he still had urges.
Her teeth on his skin only serve to arouse him even more. She is young, inexperienced, but that doesn’t seem to matter now. Her power exceeds her age; her beauty exceeds her power. He is drinking in every facet of her body - each curve, each smell, each taste. For all the people that have given themselves to him, she is by far his favorite.
Black legs carry him around her, he’s dancing with the devil and he’s loving it. He bites and sucks at her skin as his heart races within his chest. She had a hold on him no one had before - and they’d only just met. What was happening to him?
He finds her backside, and slithers his serpents’ tongue near her tender parts. He licks, bites, sucks, wishing to make her feel what she’s never felt before.
(His demon, his queen)
“Demon Queen,” He pauses momentarily, grinning. “Let me hear you scream.” He allows himself to fully commit to her pleasure, growing more aroused himself as he tastes her.
The demon within her writhes as she welcomes the intensity of his arousal. Her age hardly seems an object of interest to her now. His hot breath on her skin sends shockwaves of pleasure through her, her body craving more. There is an urgency to his movements as his mouth moves along the near black of her body. Every inhale and exhale was charged with his need to fulfill the lust that was boiling up from within him.
The red-hot aura around her glowed bright yet as he travels to her back side and his tongue finds the sweet spot between her legs. Licking and biting, her knees grow weak and she feels the force of her fear stretch out in a million different fingers. Around them subtle thumps adds to the ambiance as squirrels and birds fall dead into the blanket of snow gathered at the trunks of their trees. Pleasure upon pleasure coarsed through her veins and she clenched her teeth against a low moan that rose from the depths of her. He wanted her to scream, demanded it – yet she remained stubbornly silent.
He wanted to possess her, she could feel it in the urgency of his movements and in the satisfaction, he got from pleasuring her. He allowed him his moment, gifting him her small token of gratitude. Besides, it was a queen’s job to pleasure her king.
The waves of her orgasm snuck up on her and her knees trembled as she finally released the moan he’d desired to hear from her. Riding the wave, she reveled in her moment. Only as it finished did she realize that she desired more. Pulling her long black tail out of the way she backed herself into his chest, demanding that he finish the job that he started.
I'm every nightmare you've ever had, I'm your worst dream come true.
(His demon, his queen).
She courses through his veins, red hot like the aura surrounding her. Astarael’s resounding moan only proves to arouse him more (the small animals dropping dead from their trees was but a perk). He licks his lips, the taste of her delectable.
Fuck me you red nosed son of a bitch. He was nothing if not loyal to his queen’s wants.
He mounts her, steadying himself atop her (he always found this part difficult, given his height). He thrusts, in and out, slow and fast. The clown king bites at her rump and back, showing her how much he craves the taste of her. Metallic flavor fills his mouth as he draws the smallest bit of her blood and he goes wild.
With a loud groan, he finishes. His whole body shakes - he’s felt climax before but nothing like this. She’s different, everything about her is.
05-20-2018, 11:09 AM (This post was last modified: 05-20-2018, 11:09 AM by Astarael.)
His passion envelopes her, breaking through the red sharp edges of her exterior. Obediently he climbs upon her back, balancing himself precariously as he inserts himself into her. She feels the fullness of him and a breathy gasp falls past her lips. He is skilled in the art of love making and as he thrusts himself in and out of her she submits herself to the thickness of him. Perhaps the red nosed freak had his uses after all. His teeth rake upon her rear as the ecstasy of their private moment overwhelms him. Her skin flinches only slightly as he effectively opens a small tear in her hide. The taste of her blond intensifies his movements.
With one final moan it is done, his body trembling beneath him as he climaxed.
Perhaps too soon she peels herself free from underneath him, considering the power she now had over him. Come autumn she might even consider allowing him to plant his seed within her. Their child would truly be one bred of darkness and vile intentions. Together they were unstoppable.
