Agnieszka;

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

She was so pliant, so ready for him to tease loose the knots in her, the tangles in her mind. Just for a while, at least.

He never took his eyes off her, watching steadily as she watched him back. Every little inch of her was attractive in this strange, soul-calling way. A gravity he couldn't quite put his finger on. And every moment he remained in the water as she remained on the shore was slowly teasing at him too, bringing an impatient rise in the creature he was beneath this beautiful mask. He ached to growl at her, demand she join him. Now.

And that wasn't his usual way.
His coaxing, sickeningly sweet way that always drew them in.

There was something about her that ate at him, dug claws into him from the inside and scraped. That single step she took shot a jolt of electricity through him, because somehow he knew it wasn't true. It was too soft. She was too powerful, or had been once. Still was? There was something about her. Maybe it was the gleam in her eye, or something deep and intuitive that he didn't care to think on.

Then everything was better. He growled in pleasure as she rushed forward to meet him, brushing waves out of her path and nearly colliding with him. He curled his neck over her as she tucked herself against him, shielding her with his body from another wave pressing in on them as he brushed the side of his muzzle over her bare neck.

The sea froth flowed away to shore, and her lips touched over skin he hadn't realized had gone smooth and hairless. He ignored that he hadn't done it intentionally, returning the touch with kisses of his own, drawing them over her shoulder. His jaws ached, craved to turn flat teeth into needle-sharp fangs to sink into her skin, tug on her blood and taste her. Inject her with the pleasure so she would remain there and pliant for him, accepting of her slow death.

His eyes brightened with hunger, half-lidded as he pinched her skin with a soft groan then released. He wondered if she realized the danger she was in. With slow movements, he gradually led her in deeper, leaving teasing kisses over her neck to encourage her to follow. She was already his, he could already have her. There was no escape now. Deeper would be nice though, would be fun. For him.

"Is it your nature to attract trouble?" he asked in a soft murmur, smiling against her skin and leaving a sharp nip on her shoulder. She had trouble before. She was in trouble now.

[Agnieszka]

Agnieszka

If she could pull down all the mortared brick and concrete in her mind the creature that rages there would still be powerless to save her from the black water and its black monster. It could warn her though, and might turn her aside from this path and send her towards safety. Whether it actually would is another matter, the dark thing had not been so different from tonight’s Eszka. It too might have craved Stillwater. For different reasons.

There are walls though, closed and so strong and fast that only cold whispers, like echos in a tomb, escape only to go unheard. She is beyond heeding even a shout from the shore at this point, beyond yielding to any power.

Agnieszka lets herself be drawn, coaxed slowly into deeper water that breaks over the dip in her short back. It’s not so much of a following, but a pressing. As he pulls she pushes, returning caress for caress and forging further, asking for more with each breath and lingering touch. The painted woman leans into the pinch and pressure of his teeth, drags her own against the too smooth skin of his black shoulder. Her need for more is as loud as the crash of the dark waves, behind them, beyond them, against them.

She picks his words out of the din, and in her fog a dark, languid smile drifts across her lips, which linger inches from his midnight pelt. Sultry laughter that matches that twist of her lips in character meanders up from her chest because he is not the first to ask her such a question. It is a knowing without knowing, another lover’s words come out of her dreams. Ghosts repeating through all her numbered days, echoing on and on the words that proceed the fall of her gossamer gowns to stone floors, or into black seas, as again and again through her lives she bares her breast for one dark man who could tear her throat out. She has been here before and she will be here again. The laughter is not her only reply. She slides along his oil-slick side, lips roaming first along his withers and then tracing her way down the slope of his back.

There is danger here and she does not comprehend to what degree. He might turn the surf red with her blood, but not before she takes a corner of him for herself.

an unequaled gift for disaster

@[Stillwater]

[Stillwater]

Stillwater

She leaned into his every touch, reciprocating helplessly with her own caresses, her own kisses. For a moment, he wondered if his power had gotten stronger, or if she simply wanted a tryst so badly. It didn't change his opinion of her, unless his rising hunger counted for that. His breath came quicker and he thirsted so desperately. Damn, and his jaw ached.

He relented and finally let them glide into pointed teeth in his mouth, sharp enough to puncture flesh without too much sting. If he wanted.

Watching her touch him was driving him wild with a different madness. One he so rarely gave himself over to. Only twice now in the passed years. Ah right. Three times, then. It was what his prey craved but was time and again denied. It wasn't what he was ever here for. This was for the survival of a gluttonous beast, his mouth watering and eyes watching her with predatory precision. He only wished it wasn't so desirable to watch her, to enjoy her touch. Most often, he was the one giving, the one to worship their bodies before taking them under.

He'd been so drained lately, though.
His control slipped again.

With a flash of silver moonlight in his eyes, he lunged for her. His jaws clamped onto her throat with an airy hiss, and he drove them both beneath the surface. The hush of water surrounding them immediately eased something inside him, like he could finally breathe again. His sweet water drowned out the bustling noise of a quiet night. This was where he belonged.

He took her lower into the endless blackness of the sea, pinning her to his adhesive skin if she fought too hard, gave him too much trouble. He held her to him as he released her throat, sighing softly with a stream of bubbles rising. His lips brushed tenderly over the bite, still salivating for a taste of her. He hadn't let himself have the pleasure yet.

"Agnieska," he whispered, his voice deeper with his beast so near the surface. She felt so smooth under his lips, so soft. Flesh was so easy to sink into.

He couldn't decide if he'd rather drink her or drown her. Both were such pleasing options. Obviously, he would do both. But which would take her last breath, though? Hmm, these were the best choices to have. So much better than having to decide which residents of his kingdom would cause alarm should they suddenly go missing.

He should make her sing for him though.

[Agnieszka]

Agnieszka

In a perfect world she would have woken as he dragged her into the black sea. Not from the lust--because is lives like fire beneath her skin as he pulls her beneath the waves--but from the void of memory. In another reality the dark thing would have screamed out of it’s prison with a rage and violence so potent that she could have shaken the monster like loose and flung him back onto the beach for good measure.

But this is not a story where Agniezka wakes, or draws on the well of power that is the vast sea.

Panic comes first. Her lavender eyes are full of the serpentine strike and then her nose and eyes are stinging with cold saltwater. She kicks, twists, pulling against the tension of his teeth planted in her skin but he seals her against him so that she can only kick out toward the emptiness and shudder as muscle, bone and tendon struggles to break her free.

Far below the surface he releases her throat, caresses her. The touch is vile, but her treacherous body would still sway into his if it had the power. Agnieszka throws her head back and he whispers her name into the water, deep and rough, baring flesh to his caress even as she struggles. She knows that if she tried to speak or scream her voice would be a strangled melody without substance but here beneath the waves his baritone is lush and she recognizes that he is a creature aquatic in a way she had not understood before.

She moans and shivers, the meager contents of her lungs escaping slowly from her pink rimmed nostrils. Eszka araches her neck away from him but she is stuck fast, and every moment she recognizes the symptoms of being in his thrall. A sensation of surrender trying to sneak into her limbs. She fights through this, fueled by base memory, dilated eyes training on his reflective predatory ones.

Desire and rage show in her face, fear too.
She is a stupid girl who has tried to fuck danger itself.
The dark thing agrees.

an unequaled gift for disaster

@[Stillwater]