[private] call me the world's sexiest killing machine; sabrael

[Kerberos]

God, that was fun. My lovely little Lacey - who the fuck names a baby girl Wallace? Lacey suits her much better anyhow, especially now I’ve carved some sweet little designs into her mousy grey-brown coat. Prettied her up a bit, I did, and taught her a few tricks, made her scream, left her with a little present to remember me by. Mmm. It’s fun breaking in new toys.

She’d smelled like a couple of other guys, so I was surprised to find I was, in fact, breaking her in. But it was a delightful little surprise, innocence hidden underneath all that attitude and bravado. Sweet, sweet innocence, but it was long gone now. Now my lovely little Lacey knew loads and loads about blood and sex and losing control. Her lips knew my name like I knew the taste of her, but even the best toys get old sooner or later.

I got bored, wandered off, and didn’t bother going back. Had better things to do, didn’t I? New faces to see, new skin to slice open and paint with blood, new holes to stick it in when the season came ‘round again. Or just for the hell of it, heat or no heat. Whatever, anyhow, bored. Walked away. Had myself a bit of a wander through the forest, my good ol’ stomping grounds, and I stumbled across someone fascinating. Oh, not literally stumbled, no, never that. I may be made of iron, but I am fucking grace incarnate. Or at least, you know, not tripping all over myself and sexy men smelling all too fine and just a touch familiar.

I leered, there’s really no other word for it. Slinked right over, got all up in this business, half a step from burying my face in that gorgeous black mane and dragging in a nice long sniff. “Ohhh I know you,” I purred, catching those pretty eyes of his and grinning. Brown with a hint of gold, so lovely. “I borrowed a toy of yours. Didn’t know she was brand new, sorry about that, friend. Taught her a few tricks, though, and I’m well and done with her now. You can have her back. I left her...eh, somewhere back there,” I nodded back the way I came. “Listen, man, I know how much of a bummer it must be to have somebody break her in before you could get to her. I’d be happy to stand in,” I looked him up and down, licked my lips a little. “Mm. Definitely. And if you’re not into that, well, I’ve got one other thing I can do for you too.”

Because the magic that sexy wench of a fairy had hit me with still sang in my blood, begging to be used. And I’d been too busy using dear Lacey to get to that, hadn’t I? So I reached out and, if he let me, pressed my lips to the hard line of his shoulder, letting the magic flow through the touch. Waking the dragon, so to speak.

No, I actually did mean that one literally.

Well hell, I mean, if it stirred his blood in other ways, I’d definitely be game, as offered. He didn’t strike me as the type to take me up on it, but I wouldn’t hold a grudge or get my feelings hurt over that. Some just don’t swing that way, yeah? This hot piece of ass isn’t for everyone.

Ah well.

Bite my shiny metal ass.

@[Sabrael]

[Sabrael]

The winter seas are not as kind as the summer.

Sabrael makes it to the mainland but only barely.  His stomach roils like the waves long after the shore is behind him.  The gentlest kiss of wind on his hide chills him and sets his teeth to chatter.  He realizes, too late, why Ischia has not received any visitors since the days shortened and the moon shouldered extra hours.  He realizes, too, why few had braved a temporary escape from their island, why life had seemingly stalled inside of its sandy borders.  Compared to their balmy, changeless territory, the common lands are almost unrecognizable for their frozen otherness. 

He shakes and shivers from beach to field.  When the beginnings of a forest comes into view (stunted saplings in the forefront, gangly evergreens and naked oaks rising behind them), he dives into it for cover. 

It only takes a few steps into the woods for Sabrael to warm marginally.  Or perhaps it is the lack of wind that takes the bite out of the air.  Either way, the young stallion is grateful for the stillness.  He is less grateful for the unreasonable darkness that blots out the sky.  It shouldn’t be this dark, this time of year.  Without the leaves knitting the canopy closed, he should be able to walk under patchwork light.  He should be able to catch a glimpse of a passing grey cloud or a rising peregrine through the boughs. He cannot, though.  It is quiet and dark and still.

His stomach twists again, but he ignores the warning and presses on.

There is a wary excitement sweetening the acid in his guts at the possibility of danger.  It has always been there, always burned him from the inside out.  He has kept it tamed as best as he can, as much as decorum has dictated by his parent’s positions.  But there will come a day (soon, it purrs inside of him) that he will not be able to hold onto the chain any longer.  There will come a time that he will erupt and be burned and burn.

The other appears out of nowhere (and shouldn’t he have heard the rustle of dead leaves?  But he hadn’t – he hadn’t heard a damn thing).  Sabrael spins, already feeling behind, caught off guard.  Ohhh I know you.  He looks over the other one time and then two because the feeling is not mutual.  He’s never seen a man quite like this one, in fact.  Purple patches cover him, the color of cresting ocean waves just before daybreak.  Loud in color, loud in the grating closeness of his voice, his body.  A smile lives a quick life and a quicker death on Sabrael’s face as the man talks.  He is just a beat behind him, understanding dawning just too late before the tobiano is onto the next sentence. 

The beast begins to growl in frustration.

And while he has no idea what the man is really going on about (his toy? She?), something about the flippant way he says “break in”, the near-glee when he says “tricks”, makes his blood boil.  But his mind is slower to catch on than his instinct.  Kerberos licks his lips and it is enough to elicit an immediate response.  “I am certain that I am not interested.”  But before he can move away, the other kisses his shoulder.  Sabrael shudders, but if it is from disgust or the magic streaming through the conduit into him, he is not sure.  Either way, he is held in place long enough.

The dragon sheds him like a second skin the moment Kerberos breaks contact.

Or tries to, anyway.  It isn't completely successful.  Glossy, rust-colored wings claw out of his sides.  Twin horns poke their way over his brow, their deadly tips arching over his poll.  The surge of power is electric.  For a moment, he forgets Kerberos.  The dragon relishes its freedom, even if it isn’t fully untethered yet.  But finally, finally, a gentle breeze stirs scents deeper in the forest and brings them to the pair.  Sabrael smells Wallace.  She.  The toy.  The urge to tear the man to pieces wars with his need to find her (because a part of him finally understands).  In the end, he leaves the man with a flash of his predator teeth and a promise.

“I will not forget what you’ve done.”        

Sabrael

@[Ashley] @[Kerberos]

[Kerberos]

God damn, but he was exquisite. Stirred my blood in all sorts of interesting ways, he did, especially when those wings erupted out of his sides and horns shot out of his skull. He flashed those vicious teeth of his in a predatory grin and growled, “I will not forget what you’ve done.” And I swear, I shivered. Mmm, he’d be damn good at it if he decided to pay me back in kind, wouldn’t he? Hell yeah, I’d let those teeth sink into my flesh, soften the iron just enough that he could leave his mark, maybe even keep the scars for a while just to savor it a little longer.

“Promise?” I purred, brushing my lips along the line of his shoulder again. “Maybe you can return the favor someday.” If only. Now don’t get me wrong, I was more of a take charge kind of guy, but there was something about that growl of his that really got me going. I’d let him pin me down and do all sorts of things to me, just about anything his pretty little heart desired. Claw me up some, get those teeth in me, mmm, why not? Especially if it led to--well. Let’s not get too wound up here, hmm? I could tell he was about to take off, to go see what glorious artwork I’d wrought on his Lacey’s skin. Nah, not yet. Not just yet. Let him find her, let him stew a bit, maybe have a little fun with his toy while she was still shiny.

While blood and liquid iron still dripped from her body in shimmering, gleaming rivulets.

Mmm. God, she was gorgeous now. “You’re welcome, baby. Enjoy.” There wasn’t much else to say, not yet. Later, when he was through with her, maybe then he’d want to play. Gods knew I’d let him, too, if he came at me with fang and horn and that snarl in his voice. But for now, I had places to go, more magic to unleash. I walked away, winking over my shoulder at him before I disappeared.

Bite my shiny metal ass.