Fugue State

a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity

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 The Scent Of Blood, Packhouse | @Mel
Apr 27 2018, 01:37 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Ryan welcomed Mel to his office like he normally would.

“What do you need now, pet?”

It was business, really, at this point. Though she belonged under him, and her little pet she had dragged with, Ryan no more thought her his than she did him hers. But perhaps he was wrong in this assessment. He didn’t even look up in a greeting at her, but by this point he didn’t assume the visual confirmation important. He was bending over his desk, rifling through papers as would an incredibly busy man you had a few minutes with before he was taking off again, on another meeting that would abscond him for the rest of the day. But it was light outside at least, and these late, spring days would keep the skies awash in light for a long time. Ryan might not have been looking at her as he searched his documents for something, but his attention was on her.

On how she moved, her noiseless presence. A predator very much like his own person, though she had aged into this role, and he couldn’t help but continue to believe he had let a snake join his ranks. Her skills didn’t actually help that.

Who needed someone too good at what they did? Were the circumstances different, he didn’t doubt they’d have hoped to end each other. Or maybe he was the more jaded of the two, and she’d have believed they could exist in the same city without harming each other. Although what little he had seen of her suggested the exact opposite-- Mel was too focused on her survival, if she’d come to a fellow original on her own accord and knelt to bargain an alliance, in that alternate version of their universe she’d grab her team and her weapons and hunt him down before he first found her. A remarkable fact, Ryan couldn’t lie. It made her a remarkable, unstupid woman. But it toughened his attention around her, encasing it rock-like and yet winding, flexible like the body of the very venomous snake she was, with her body, with her face and her overall demeanor striking something primal within Ryan that imagined a more physical encounter. And yet tempting her into a match was the last thing he wanted.

Capable just like she was, he’d yet not failed to register her expertise encompassed a different kind of range than his own, making her a trained, skilled soldier rather than a street smarts survivor who’d used cunning and wit to get this far. He believed she was lacking in that, but couldn’t force himself to doubt the look of a sleek, sharpened weapon she had. Often when Ryan looked at her, not that he ever, ever looked at her but if he did, if he ever spared her a look he would see only as the weapon she was. Anointed in the horrors of the last war she had fought in, and the ability to fight in the next that would naturally roll up. She looked poised, and cold, but even when he saw her standing still he disbelieved the lying complacency of it. He disbelieved her breaths, honestly. If he heard them, he thought she was letting him to, and she announced her presence to the world where she willed it, how she willed it, and she’d laced your hearing with the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, deceiving you to a state either comfort, or the wrong, lethal assumption if you heard her you had some chance of surviving after all.

Ryan looked at her and saw someone who decided who lived and died in her presence. She might not have boasted it, she looked hardly the type who’d flash all the aces up her sleeves.

But she looked it, regardless.

Perhaps why he eventually, a second or so upon her entrance to the pack-house office where he typically resided, flickered his gaze up at her and he looked as sly and watchful as she did cold and murderous. It was easy to apply the words on each other.

He leaned back as he finished digging, shoving a few files back into his top and second top drawer, and the one he’d been looking for was left on the desk, neglected for a while. Ryan just pinned gazes, mock wondering as if he didn’t know what she could be here for.

Business, and nothing else. This day died because another hybrid in the city might have, either a stupid, wandering rogue picked off by their common enemy, or worse so, a foolish rogue still who’d been offed by a rogue of other species, vampires, shifters--- the hatred was plenty, enough to go around for all of his kind. He wondered if she had anything to say to him he didn’t yet know, and wondered, too, whether he’d feel her lust for his blood spike and take over.

It’d been long weeks since her joining, after all. She’d be feeling the full weight of it.

He had invited a snake into his home and hooked it on the promise of his blood.

But his cold, knowing eyes watched Mel, his smile sly.

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 27 2018, 11:56 PM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
It was as stuffy and pretentious as it always was, a well tailored cloak for the man who sat in his chair digging through papers. A man who paid her no more mind than she did him—

She paid him every.

Melaina’s pale eyes flicked about, even if they needed to take in nothing new of this place, nothing had changed since her last visit and yet she looked all the same. A habit she’d not break now or here. It’d kept her alive for long whiles now, a trusted companion where even all her current ones couldn’t boast the same length of time at her side. She scanned this room and paid the man so very little attention it was a wonder that she noted him at all. But of course she did, Ryan wasn’t a man you didn’t take note of, to do so would be the biggest failing of your day. And if you lived through the day, perhaps you’d be accounted as something lucky. As haughty as he might have appeared when the door shut behind her and the whole of this place wrapped around her like a fist at her throat, he was not a man she underestimated. Perhaps nothing that trained half as well as she had through the years, but he was still alive and for a species such as their own, this was an oddity in and of itself.

Her movements were silent and carefully placed, Mel walked here as she did everywhere, with caution and careful footfalls. With the intent to not be seen or heard. A woman who walked through life like she were better a ghost than those that had ever died. Pale eyes flicking back to Ryan and they studied him in the seconds that he spent digging, the shift of his fingers were an elegant and poignant thing, as dangerous as everything else of him and she took not this for granted either. Studied this just as well as she did the rest of his office as she wandered. Her feet straight and sure there was nothing that wavered about her purchase on the floor. Nor the wrapping of her fingers around the back of the chair before her as she stood a moment. Long seconds after his eyes had lapsed over her and longer seconds after the question had been left in the air like a fog waiting for the clarity of the sun to burn it away.

What did she need?

Nothing.

What did she want would have been the better question, but she wasn’t here to argue the best turn of phrases with a man who looked about as enthused over her presence as she did being here. Face calm and gaze razor sharp, but there was a weariness to her that hadn’t been there when she’d stood before him last. It’d been whiles. A woman independent and she’d see him tracked as well as she was and then she’d see him off before their mutual presences settled too well beside one another and became familiar. It sounded with a noxious shudder through her head.

What did she want then?

”To compare notes,” the title of her head was subtle as she rounded the chair, her feet slow and meandering, a casual wander that pulled her along the floor like it mattered not how long it took her to find her seat. It didn’t, much. ”And to discuss the ineptitude of your people… your one person,” his. It was nothing she wanted to claim as her own, even if she had in the moment, in a need to self rile and get the job done. Even Melaina knew her faults and how to use them to her own benefit. Her tone was the same chilly cold it always was as she finally rounded and sat. Invited or not, she sat herself down.

A knee crossed over the other and she sat too stiffly though her eyes belied a sense of casual comfort.

There was nothing like comfort here.

Nothing like comfort in the presence of a blood that boiled her own, not a note she was ever comfortable with, twice as much so when it came to the thought of Ryan. She’d have much preferred to get in, do the job, and leave. Shacking up with a man that made her skin crawl, and for a very different reason than most, was nothing she reveled in. An elbow propped on the arm of her chair and the rested touch of a crooked finger would see a soft sigh from her lungs. Almost silent. She was sure she needn’t even address who it was, sure Ryan knew—

”Trinity,” it drawled from her tongue as if it weighed a ton. The weary tinge grew across her features like a shadow, the day on fast forward and it was there and then gone as night set in and washed her over in a dark sort of pensive. She’d say nothing more, let the weight of the man not present pull the air down in the room. A man who made the concept of keeping them safe an almost impossibility. Turned it into a job worthy of he title babysitting. But it was Ryan’s thoughts on the matter at all that she was after. His plans for the other, his view of him, how helpless or useless he found him. A broad and vague array of questions sat on her face and she’d ask none of them but rather would le thte man talk of what he wanted on their third party.

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 28 2018, 03:17 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
He noticed her weariness--

And also how she just danced around the topic of sitting down and for god’s sake, love: sit.

Ryan was sure he’d have barked the order out, no matter if she ended up leaving in a huff. She was finally seated (where he was not) and Ryan looked down at her, his brows furling, his attention pointed on her.

To compare notes, she spoke, an of course somewhere in her tone, along with that haughty, and unspoken and whatever did you think this was, pretty?, like she’d find a way to insult him even if her lips were too tired of it. Unwilling to obey the urge to be petty but her demeanor still spoke it, leaving her efforts slipshod at best and motley; with the crew of every other interfering intent and her own, shared hate, something Ryan didn’t let get in the way (much) except it did (kind of). She was… his. But he also wouldn’t extend the words so, like he hated the no she’d utter even more than he adored his overall role.

Ryan’s lips curled--

His amusement was jarring, cold, eyes narrowing in the warning as though she had best be on her behavior about who she criticized--

Who, since he’d think strongly that his pack was typically full of potential, skills. He had good people under his belt, and though he recalled giving her a free reign about singling out those weak, those sotf that could have a silly change of heart, it didn’t mean she actually could. A trap, for a sure, the most whimsical of sorts responding only to the song of his slight, cool anger--

Trinity, she said, and Ryan gave her an expression that was both questioning, and tired.

Trinity, the tenth generation lab experiment, the man who had pissed on his leg when Ryan ran them into the woodland-- a man who had trashed his room and then had the cheek of masturbating there (though not on the same day) to the vision of his ruler.

Trinity, and Ryan looked immediately a couple of years older.

“He is a special case,” he diplomatically said, finally sitting down. Down on his chair he looked no more relaxed than he had when standing up, and his arms stretched along the armrest, his legs out as well, long beneath the desk-- he leaned forward at once, with the jerk of his body.

Elbows on the desk and his hands at his head level, rubbed together as he contemplated her with a serious expression.

“He’s a lab rat like us,” he explained, conversational even though with the haste that he borrowed from his harried, melodious lilt. He looked divorced from humor. “The latest experiment, I’d want to presume-- alas, I’m nowhere near naive enough to believe the fae had dropped them entirely.”

It did beckon him to lean back a bit, like it helped him distance himself away from this fact, sitting one pace away though by the general stressed and unhappy appearance he put on himself, it didn't help.

The fae had done this to them. What could help if not the eventual decimation of their entire race?

“He’s lost more often than not,” he spoke, “a cheeky… aimless little boy.” In his own eyes, at least. Despite that sweet moment they’d had, Ryan found any chances of himself and said boy getting closer below his point of interest. He was young, he was... a man and though the red blood in Ryan remembered singing out in an ache for rucked sheets, he had killed, ended it so swiftly had it been a woman, she'd not have even managed a shriek.

Ryan would not bed his pack-mates. And he'd not entertain anything outside of who he really was to them: their leader. A necessary, logical distance he thought he needn't explain lest his audience was guilty of the same aptitude for uncomfortable, impulse decisions, as the very boy they had mentioned. Trinity. And had Ryan wanted to confess, then he would have: the faint outline of the man's face appearing in his head at Mel's frank mention of one unskilled man.

Trinity.

And Ryan licked his lower lip, properly, dragged it in to suck on it and settled a look at Mel, asking--

“Do report, what sort of abundant nonsense did get himself involved in now?”

It made it sound like such a habit, this boy Ryan was addressing; a daily order and a pandemonium of a person who’d so far been more harm than help. Ryan didn’t question that. He’d have doubted Trinity was genuine in his continued wander down these streets, but repeat encounters in the room that the bond provided had convinced Ryan of the opposite; Trinity really was a soft child. One grown well into his body though often with the confused headspace of someone who had no idea who they were. Lost. Ryan could tell you that right now. Lost, and with his focus as scattered as the rice you were a fool to throw down on the floor, as though it did you any good to confirm that if you spread chaos then chaos you saw.

Ryan lapsed into his thoughts temporarily-- but even then his attention didn’t waver from Mel, seeing her like she was only one here: in this current, shoddy universe.

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 29 2018, 12:18 AM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
The name was something that seemed to have the same basic effect on Ryan as it did herself. A weariness that settled upon his shoulders like it belonged there upon every mention of this boy she’d offered chances and a future where he need not be the drifting flotsam he appeared to be perfectly happy as in his everyday life. It was a look that bunched the skin beside an eye in soft and faint lines, a threat that almost saw a smirk cross her features. Almost. Wiped away with a slightly deeper breath then the last, an exhale that wanted to be a sigh but would see nothing of its deep or resounding plight mentioned to this room.

Ryan sat.

The note on his tongue would raise a brow, a special case, and she’d not have assumed this man was anyone who awarded such things to anyone least of all boys who had nothing to offer in return. The faint dip of her head would come at the note of what he was, she knew, it was upon her confession of the same that the boy had awarded her some curious sort of trust, one that wanted to belong. They all did, but Trinity seemed… an odd brand of it even as she thought she knew every look of trust and then there would come this boy who wanted, but he wanted everything and nothing all at once. Melaina was almost certain Trinity had no idea what he truly wanted, he simply wanted as it felt like the thing he could best waste his time and energy on; wanting.

”No. Of course not,” her arm would bent then, a crooked finger shift to see her chin rested as she watched this man and his explanation of a case deemed special. There would come no details after the surety behind her voice, after the truth as she spoke it as such. No, of course they’d not ceased, and she’d not detail the dozens of rings she’d found along the way, the facilities she’d swept clean on her road to this place. The last wasn’t so long ago, she recalled, less than a year—

Of course they’d not ended something that also stood to benefit from, the fae were many things and this included greedy.

The appearance of her smirk was less wry than usual when it came, a lopsided almost smile that sat faintly against her cheek before it waned and left her pensive once more. Ryan spoke of him like a beloved son, both irritating and adored for some reason she’d not yet seen in him. Melaina wondered then if he knew the way Trinity’s shone, how easily his attention was captured by a perfect stranger, when she only just uttered Ryan’s name? Likely. She’d not presume the man stupid, after all. Surely he must then. It was a note that amused her though did nothing to shift her features as she yet stared from behind the framing curtain of her pale hair.

”Lost.”

Lids hooding a bit and she’d chance that quiet mock-up of a smirk again, her perch falling away to drape itself back along the arm of her chair. ”I’d hasten to say your more often than not should really be remedied with an always,” tongue smoothing along the center of her top lip as the pale of her gaze flickered around the room in a casual once over that never not sighted Ryan in its periphery. Blue eyes elsewhere and she’d begin speaking moments before she returned to his thoughtful guise. ”Attacked by vampires, a trio of them,” a hand would shift in a quiet waving away of this fact as her eyes focused in with an edge intent and curious. ”They were dealt with. However, he did nothing to fight back. Simply, he let it happen. Had I not been there…,”

Brow furrowing a little and she’d see the tips of her fingers tapped idly along the arm of her chair.

”He’s soft,” it licked from her lilted tongue like a note of detriment. ”A soft that seems to think himself incapable of also having strength and a will to use it. A soft with a very key part of himself missing; a backbone,” she’d not produce a visible frown, though it was there in her voice as she glance to one of the windows behind to to the side of Ryan. ”I gave him a choice. He chose to hide behind my skirts.” It was there again, the soft liquid frown laced around her tongue, it punctuated itself with a sigh.

”He seems to have very little grasp on what he is or how to manage it, how he’s made it this long…,” another flourish of her fingers, though it was clear from the tone of her voice that she assumed he’d not live much longer if he was left on his own as he was. ”Oddly his control seems decent, though the rest of him poses a detriment to us all if he does nothing to remedy his lacking.”

Gaze returning to Ryan then, a flick to the side and Melaina peered, curious and already knowing but seemingly enraptured after the hue of his tongue all the same.

--------------------
user posted image
Apr 29 2018, 02:09 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Lost, was said and Ryan tilted his head back both in seeming offense and then the understanding more would be coming, and so he braced himself.

It bared his neck, for a moment.

When she insinuated Trinity may have died, Ryan’s lips became pinstripe. Nothing on his features talked of shock, nothing would and he’d appear just weary like the parent being sat down (once more) to discuss their dumb only child, the one and only who continued to place himself in direct line of fire and then wonder how was it that he burned, ten seconds and counting stood on the spot? Mystery, my boy, surely a mystery… for sure. Ryan grimaced, faintly--

For… a reason, some, random he’d have asked her to ceased the smirks. To stop licking her lips, to stop smirking. But she did remark the boy was soft, which was awfully accurate if Ryan could so muster, if he wanted to, like she needed him to confirm what they were both well aware and if he began then, next he’d inform her the sun was a star and the world not flat at all. Given, obvious facts that there was no sense in making naked, more so than they were for being all around us without a shame for what they were. He was soft, and when she said Trinity had hidden behind her skirts--

The scoff that Ryan emanated would have been an apparent sound of judgment hadn’t he closed his eyes and smirked. He looked amused, and--

Soft.

It was a chuckle. Ryan rubbed his mouth for a moment.

His eyes opened in a peer and he opened, closed his arms, speaking “Who even knows” but he’d settle his undivided, amused attention on her, looking languid in that moment of this hooded look and that tilt in his head and the whorish splay of his neck he was none too aware of.

When he pressed one hand over to it, however, tickling over it with fingertips, he was all too aware.

The hand returned to the armrest, tighter than before, though. It looked ready to ball. He half-dug his fingers into the leather.

“I would deny he’s controlled.”
He looked at his right hand arm, turning it around to bare the wrist, contemplated for a moment-- the message, despite him saying a further word, was apparent.

Trinity was not too controlled. Not if you were too sublime of a flavor he wanted. Ryan fixed Mel with a look that was a tad mocking as it went with the shape of his eyes, but he shrugged, appearing delicate for a second--

“For all that it’s worth, you did well to protect him. A dumb child or not he’s still ours.”

Confessed in a languid, giving tone but then Ryan had to look down, obviously submerged in his own thoughts. With the frown he wore you were right to assume so, and besides he did tap his fingers onto the comfortable, firm surface of his leather throne, lost for a second or so or even further, counting-- three, four--

Seven.

“Whatever shall I do with Trinity the boy,”
he mused, in a sing a song tone. “I have already instructed him to shift at least twice a week.” He leaned back in his chair--

The king, but maybe one typically tired for a moment. As would be anyone, dealing with this misbehaving, danger-attracting child.

“He is a bit divided. The instinct of the werewolf, and the one of the vampire.” He flicked his hand-- “Goes to prove the entire experiment was nothing if not mortals playing gods.”

Because otherwise they’d have known, right upon seeing what they had created, that hybrids were abominations unfit for living among men. It made one ponder however they survived in packs at all, so strongly driven to by both of their parents and even beyond them, miles, miles more than what was known of shifters and vampires. Their need to belong, for example, never found itself satiated, no matter the pack they were tossed in, the nest or the pard. It curled Ryan’s lips, and unhappily he stared at the desk.

“Anything else?” he asked Mel, although he sounded distracted. He just looked up at her, gaze pinned right on her face.

--------------------
user posted image
May 1 2018, 04:07 AM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
There was an argument on her tongue over this title of ours, one she’d not affix to her voice as her gaze slipped to the window then to avoid the onslaught of Ryan’s whorish neck and his need to touch it like it did nothing to twinge the bond that rested between them with the heat of basal want. It was nothing that tickled her, a thing that also killed the need to stomp out the fire that felt too domestic on his tongue, like this child wasn’t only his but hers as well. Ours. As if she had any right or want to him at all, or any place in this pack to call him hers at all. She’d not. She also had, but as the moment had long passed by now she had also long rescinded her need to title him. However, he was still a thing she considered controlled. He’d not attempted to kill her, and while his lust for the red in her veins was as clear as his salivation at the man’s name that sat across from her, he’d asked upon every itch.

Perhaps polite was a better word, but even polite came with the requirement of some modicum of control.

She’d issue a quiet hum instead, a neutral sound that prefaced the swinging back of her attention in hopes his hands and his chin were back as they were meant to be, not splayed out like a painted lady who’s knees refused to stick themselves together.

Down, his gaze was upon his desk and he looked a man thoughtful and quiet. It was moments like this that allowed a better surveillance of the man himself, one that came without the soft mock of his features and the sly of his smiles, ones charming if you so trusted the wolf beneath the sheepskin was your woolly brethren at all. Melaina watched him for a long moment as he sat there in his pensive and pondered over a man who should have been called boy all along, one who’d never grown and become anything but his teenage ire and need to be away from the people he’d tied himself to. They were new and nothing he understood and still, he’d found running a better answer than facing anything head on.

Her eyes would fall somewhere tot he front facade of his desk in a thoughtful repose, chin dipping in an agreement of thought then, over this notion of shifting. He needed it, he also needed more. To understand himself went beyond just the feel and comfort of his wolf. Tongue flashing to wet her lower lip before the pair were squashed together in a purse that rubbed them, and their acquired moisture together and they’d part some seconds later, gaze traveling once more to meet Ryan’s own. ”I offered to train him. To teach him how to survive, so perhaps he’ll require less babysitting in the future. We’ll see if he follows through,” posture still too strict and she’d see herself relaxed ever so slightly then, in a leaning back that mimicked though did little to match that of Ryan himself.

There was little like confidence in her tone as she spoke this. Knowing little of the lost child and he might seek it out, he also might not, too wrapped in his own little world where soft meant pliant and weak and anything else was hard and sharp edges. The divide was too black and white in a world meant to be colored in shades of gray, but he’d figure it out on his own.

Or he’d perish of his own stupidity.

Mother and father couldn’t be there to hold his hand every waking second—

”Mm,” an amused sound, however light, would purse from her throat. Agreement over the whims of men and their own ending, or rebirth, however the hybrid chose to look at it.

A question and Ryan’s tone was far away, prompting her lids to narrow softly and her eyes to refocus on the soft edges of his face and the pale, downcast of his eyes before they flicked up to meet her own.

”There’s another rogue, he’s done well to remain beneath the radar but he’s yet to pose any real threat.

"I'll keep an eye out,”


The man with the ridiculous name she’d burned into her memory lest she forget his inconsequential presence; Lufti.

”Am I to assume then—” shoulders shifting a little as she settled into her chair a bit better, some seemingly inconspicuous malevolent ruler— ”That your meeting with the wolf pack hybrid didn’t go well?” She’d not seen hide nor hair of new hybrid within their ranks, not for some time anyway. Her tone neutral and her eyes peering, Mel had every assumption it was likely not the hybrid at all, but whomever sat with him, that had seen his hand stayed. In the presence of Ryan, even where his charms might have lacked in the face of his arrogance, the song in his veins was nothing much one so young would have rightly turned away so easily. It cast her eyes distanced and thoughtful, though yet pinned on the man before her.

--------------------
user posted image
May 1 2018, 05:43 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Ryan hummed at that--

“Go on, then, train him, you’ll do a better job at that than me,” he permitted, his tone lilting at that. A flicker of a wrist, a shrug or something, and he was dismissive and relaxed in a rare, surely deceptive sighting serving to honeypot Melaina like she were a pathetic beast, prone to getting herself caught by the stink of the sweet she preferred trickling down her throat. And speaking of her throat--

He looked at it, for a moment.

He detested she hummed, for no particular reason. He saw how it moved her throat. The bob of agreement. The shift at the vibration, flesh trembled by the noise.

Mhm.

He’d have her stop it too, along with the smirks. But he looked up at what she said, his thoughtful repose melting for a second, eyes narrowed in a twitch sudden and a serious expression taking place over the wistful--

Ryan relaxed it a second later.

“I know. Thank you.”

Keeping things short then.

He was expecting her to leave, although it wasn’t that wild of a notion sharing a simple drink. It was on his mind as she addressed something. And that earned his smirk.

Rising up immediately, with a swing of his legs, and the one of his frame, he made it for the cabinet to the right of his person, lovely, ornate and wooden and naturally swung open to reveal his beloved collection of alcohol, which he tended to serve to his guests or his patsies, or whatever nonsense he had told her then-- he’d remember, although depending on what was needed of him deny it, or confirm it.

It was swung open however on an important point, and Ryan just casually drawled, ringing his faint amusement--

“Pet had a mate. A vampire. A very protective one.” It paused him, a look shot her way over his shoulder, like she'd understand the hundred unspoken implications before forward he faced again, rifling through these bountiful offers and coming out with a bottle and two tumblers even though her participation wasn’t certain yet. Slapping the glasses down though the drink remained in his hand, he returned himself to his seat in a strong, backwards sprawl that wanted to place his feet on his desk but he didn’t, though he possessively rested his bottle into his lap, ordering offhandedly, “Close” and he flickered his gaze up in a sudden focused thought just as the cabinet doors closed. Back at Mel, he narrowed his eyes--

“He will come, however.” Certain. The bottle, crystalline, and heavy in the hands of any mortal, was opened, the cap placed between his lips which wrapped just fine around it, and he swallowed as he poured himself three greedy and overabundant inches, immediately sharing two with her as well without even asking.

She’d just leave it be if she wasn’t interested.

Drinks poured, all this enacted with haste he continued on this seemingly hurried point, back flush with the chair once more and himself speaking, casual though nothing about Ryan ever perpetually was, “The young one.” It drifted his gaze up at her.

Met hers in a strong moment.

“He’s curious. Intelligent, too, he wasn’t too tempted.” A shrug like reaction-- “But he was tempted just enough.” Of course. “A hybrid pack will never find competition in a wolf pack, not long term. If he’s truly as intelligent as he made himself appear, he’s doomed to realize this himself soon enough.”

Elbows on his desk, in a lean forward he relaxed, his glass raised and balanced at his face level as though in the best and quickest access to its mouth. He was looking at Mel again, giving his lower lip and curious, subtle bite that whitened and then darkened the abused spot, and he pursed, wrinkled and stretched them right after, into a smirk curious and wrong.

Some wouldn’t call it that, though.

Some would say: luscious.

“What about you, my love?” He sounded mocking somewhat. A flicker down her appearance--

“Settling in I see?”

A look at her neck. An accidental, hard-burn of a gaze like Ryan was the sun himself. It darkened his gaze.

But he glanced up, knowing, and fearless.

And rested his untouched glass against his own very neck.

“Any complaints, so far?” he asked in a low, calculative tone, as though well (impossibly) aware that the teasing press of the cool glass over the side of his neck would only serve to redden it, drawing eyes like a bull’s to the man in the arena.

--------------------
user posted image
May 2 2018, 12:08 AM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
It was all very oddly cordial their dealings as they sat there like they owned a half of the room each. They did not. In point of fact Melaina owned nothing of this place and nor did she have any need or want to. A small parcel surrounded by territory marked int he sweet stench of him and she was sure to go mad if she remained there like it was a home to her lost. Thankfully she wasn’t lost at all and this place, even in its current stink, was nothing that would house her for very long. Only long enough to see their discussion ended and the world returned to its rightful order, where she wasn’t here and this place didn’t house her like its own. But they were cordial, these dueling titans in a city that would wrap around them for a short period of its history, before she could bait the proper beast from its hidey-hole and see the whole of its lineage vanquished beneath the curl of her fingers.

Ways tighter then did they now around the end of the armrest of her chair.

Whatever her delicate attention had rested on a moment before it was entirely his as Ryan rose form his chair in a need to fetch something. Whatever little ease her frame had seen the minutes prior, they were quickly erased for the slow tightening of muscles that would see her rigid beneath the sudden onslaught of her lacking trust. Two wolves (however literal) circling each other and there was nothing in the air that spoke of anything like a bond lasting. Couldn’t have been for all the love she didn’t hold, and the care he didn’t offer, not beyond what one could do for the other. A mutual point in time and they were nothing but allied ships with a common enemy—

And when that enemy was dead?

A flash of bottles and Melaina was better pinned on the sound of his voice, a melodic thing she remembered from centuries back. It had changed over the years, even in this it grew more cunning in the sharp of its edge. Honeyed and warm but its inflection was too mocking to be anything sweet or incandescent against her ears. She heard little of a young man impassioned and oddly soft in the face of his others, even in the face of the men who pressed and took—

Her gaze shifted then, a sweeping of it that felt almost ashamed as it wandered back to the desk he’d settle at once more. Away from the elegant curve of his spine and the still too lustful stretch of his neck. Beneath their hands they’d both lost, lost an innocence they’d maybe also lost years before, but the child like softness had fled better than Trinity had behind her leg in an alley facing the man who’d wanted nothing more than to see him withered and husked.

Melaina’s soft had fled long before Ryan's had, she remembered that better than she even did the lilt of his voice.

Another soft hum would precede her extraction back to Ryan’s desk, their eyes meeting briefly, her own was pensive and quiet.

A vampire mate was nothing easy to deal with, but it did better their own position, tickled the hunger eve better then his lupine half brethren. A beating heart within his own chest that spurned him on even as he slept. Mel’s chin propped itself gently upon the pad of her thumb, the crook of her forefinger bent in a thoughtful rub over the plush of her lower lip. Eyes distanced and pinned on nothing in particular upon his desk as he sprawled, closed his cabinet with magic and saw to the soft tone of his voice again.

When her pale eyes returned it was to glasses and the sweet, deep smell of amber liquid sat just below the sharp of Ryan’s gaze—

The dip of her chin was curt though there was no reaching for the glass on the side of the desk she occupied. ”It’s fairly safe to assume then, that this mate of his is also his sire,” a question that perhaps lacked the rise at the end of itself. No matter the man’s intelligence, the presence of a vampire was nothing small or insignificant. Neither was love. A thought she’d not muddle the air with as she yet sat listening, pondering and listening.

”No, of course not,”

An agreement on a tone soft and rich.

Watching, she did this as well, of a man that leaned forward and found the subject turned to the room. To her. To her under the guise of thoughtful though too teasing not to feel it. Neither did she hide it. Controlled it upon the surface of her, a woman placid and calm as she sat beneath her languid blinking and the cool gathering of her smirk to one side of her face. Below the surface she was a sea born of storm.

All hunger and pacing irritation.

A brow would rise, not upon words but the focus on the stretch of her long neck, on the resting of his glass against skin. It pinked and she irritated further. The beneath of her, eyes flicking to the other glass as she thought about his question and or her complaints. When she finally moved it was as it always was, elegant and swift. Slow in the eyes of those who saw things too crisply. Not a lunge but it wasn’t anything that didn’t hold just a modicum of threat either.

Grasped and plucked and not a drop was spilled as her lean neared them, not close, but closer. Wafted the scent of each other about in a mess of them before she leaned herself back with her filled, crystal prize. ”Only that this is all taking far longer than I’d like,” coolly spoken as she watched Ryan watch her. Predators set to eyeing each other and it was no great relief when the glass pressed against her lip and its liquid slid over her tongue. The taste of it and it was too easy to imagine its burn sliding down the throat of another.

”It’s been too quiet,” and for the sake of being called as wrong in her assumptions over the fae, her eyes slipping to the window for a second or two as they narrowed thoughtfully, she’d correct this and move on. ”Not silent by any means… but the tepid of it all doesn’t bode well for anyone,” when her eyes return it was, first, to the red at the side of his throat. Secondly, to the matching pale of his eyes. ”Not when we’re made to inhabit the same spaces without incident,” the soft flared threat of her teeth across the bond, a famished, gnawing sensation, wouldn’t see a frown across her features as much as it would the slow-burn shift of her smirk across a cheek.

”Especially so when one of us seems to intent to flirt with disaster,”

A faint thing that lingered a longer moment than usual as her voice clucked softly from her tongue.

--------------------
user posted image
May 2 2018, 01:37 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
Ryan hummed. Very likely the man was his sire too, which also included mutual feeding and then plenty related problems arising from it. Did he care? Considering he had tried to recruit the younger man for his pack, he supposed he had no other choice but to judge how they conducted themselves behind the closed door, and know immediately Soren would pose a issue.

Whether he fucked well or not wasn’t necessary to Ryan’s personal thoughts. He dismissed the memory of their tangle, years old and almost forgotten except with his ventures being so few and far between he didn’t easily erase them from memory; it was there, still, that rough, exciting encounter against the walls of San Francisco, the hard showing of hips forward and those few minutes of being relaxed and in heaven, even though the pliant calls of his body weren’t heard; he didn't remember moaning. He didn't remember being a casual bitch in heat, asking for more of him.

He remembered stealing blood from him.

He remembered the bliss.

Ryan banished the memory calmly, eventually, there to observe her in her lean forward.

He’d have flinched, were he any weaker. Instead he watched her with a lick of cold, warning interest that casually dissuaded against any harsher movement, or some unspoken else. He’d never meet her in a fair fight. Her training was superior, his relied on the centuries of fighting people off. Street smarts versus a professionally trained soldier, there was no doubt in Ryan’s mind that his defeat would be eventual, but perhaps not slow. He might have declared that for the sake of his silly ego already trembling raw from this factoid, must not, shall not like it would send him off, careening towards own downfall at the hands of Melaina and her soldier history that spanned for far too long not to consider with respect. It didn’t require him to like it. Or to dislike it, and Ryan personally preferred neither over the other, calm, even still for a moment as he observed her hawk-like motions. Hawk-like himself, a duo of predators caught in a meeting but the audience would ponder, which got the best of which if he could easily order her to walk off, and she heeded his command, spitting, seething for sure?

He could have ordered her to full nudity, too, but--

That didn’t cross his thoughts. And it honestly did not.

She complained about the quiet-- and Ryan took to her face. He defiled her neck while she stared elsewhere, a mere few seconds permitted like a dire gift from the black heavens but it was plenty to smolder over the litheness of the nape, to want it, every sip of the blood tucked in there and covet in a silent yearning stab against his calm lower abdomen, not yet filling the bond with the ache but interesting him, anyway, in some sort of situation that manipulated her blood past his lips for a moment.

She would taste delicious. And she looked back at him, his calculative, mocking eyes calmly back on hers--

Her smirk soured his mood for no reason.

He hummed.

“I see,” he spoke. The drink was leaned away from his neck, leaving the spot it had touched predictably reddened. Ryan drew it up to his lips instead, drinking for a moment and then it was set down with a sigh-like act of someone surely too tired by now, an arch of his brows, theatrics in play and though it would hit the desk-top with a near invisible sound, Ryan’s fingers didn’t detach fully, connected by their warm fingertips.

“And I wouldn’t want you becoming my own… undoing, would I,” came out in a drawling, fearless echo. “Even though I would deny,” he carried on, in a whisper, “that I’d ever flirt with you, love-- surely we both--”

And that a moment, his hand was in motion, rising up to his neck, claw-like in position and the splay and spread of fingers--

“--understand that,” he finished just when his fingers made contact, on his neck and the side of it that suffered as they raked. The skin reddened without a second to spare.

In fact it broke in a place, a small spot that healed immediately with only a hint of a red drop gathering right there, staining his one finger. Realizing it, although quite nonchalant, Ryan brought the hand up for a viewing, and casually plucked with lips and tongue the smearing of blood off his thumb where it had gathered, just as casual in his words--

“My love, I cannot imagine a single situation where I would flirt with disaster. Now, flirting with thrill,” he announced, with dark, resonant cheer, his lips spread into a wide, dangerous grin and a wild power in his eyes, bleeding a bit golden and dark--

That, I would adore.”

The flash of his claw would be noticed for a split second before he balled his hand, and it pierced deep in there, the grunt of pain expressed in the cringe in his shoulders and a narrowing of his dark, seductive gaze into a pitch dark with the golden shine.

And then loudly, in a shrieking scent of everything well aged and sweet, he bled.

--------------------
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May 3 2018, 12:16 AM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
The game he played was a dangerous one, one that Melaina was sure he knew he’d not when if it came down to anything more tactile than they were right now. Anything that pitted her against the whole of him. She’d not sit and defend the notion that she would see to an overwhelming victory, Ryan wasn’t the next up and coming version of Trinity, he had lived far longer than most and there was a reason for that. But their skills taken into account and he would see their own disadvantages tested in a very short span of time if he continued.

The delicate I see on his tongue sounded like he found interest in very little else in that moment, than to the downfall of them both. A quiet spiral they’d share with no one as ferreted away behind the closed door as they were, but a spiral the others were very likely to feel. As much so as Mel knew Ryan felt the itch that colored the disinterest on her face even now as the pinked spot on his neck was allowed to return itself to normal. It still drew her attention in a manner she hated, in one she couldn’t have rightly denied even if she’d sat and chanted into the dark spaces of herself not to look. She did, and would and in that moment the look on her face grew both interested and cold, a detached she wished direly, that she could hold onto.

The pitch of her smirk was a subtle thing, one that gathered nothing of her lips but rather wrinkled the delicate skin to one side and crinkled that beside her eyes. An amusement that went very little ways beyond this superficial showing of itself upon her person. Surely, he’d speak, and surely as he did so the splay of his hand up the length of his neck, and the curl of his fingers was nothing less than a woman lifting her skirts and spreading her knees before a man already unzipping his pants.

It was a disaster to be sure, though Ryan seemed keen to name it a thrill.

The soft give of his skin beneath his nails was nothing she’d not feel on her insides, a lurched like motion that wanted little more than the shift of her from her chair in a pitch forward that bypassed his desk in a movement elegant and ravenous—

Her fingers curled around the armrest they sat upon, digging into the wood softly as the other lifted the biting liquid to her lips. Had they not sat there with a thin red line attaching one to the other and she might have fared better in her settled position within not wanting, would have easily detached and ignored, noted still as any hybrid would the sweet cacophony of their own along the gently shifting air in the room. But he’d not have sung to her like a lover looking to impress himself into the annals of her mind.

Watched him from behind the subtlest hint of burn down the back of her throat as she painted the look of disinterest across her fae like the virtuoso she’d absolutely been born as. The ring of gold around her eyes was faint and itched against her attention, she wanted nothing of it, not half as much as it seemed he absolutely did as his hand left his throat and his grin spread like wildfire across his face. It was nothing she trusted as she sat there watching it burn everything in its wake. Tumbled the whole of her, she’d not call it lust, not in its basal form, not in the one that build heat in her belly but rather the one that set her teeth together and pained her gums with the threat of fangs—

Like a bomb going off, the scent exploded into the air, bleeding her eyes without her will, without any will to stop them as they casually inked over and shimmered golden and wanting. The sun caught in the dead of night and it held no power to shine there.

The dark too dark and it swallowed everything in void.

The tenuous string snapped and while she’d trumpet that her control was well and good, this wasn’t a moment typical and neither was it anything she’d have considered a fair, no more fair than would it have been to pit street smarts against war training—

Snapped and she was on her feet and forward lunging in the time it’d take to snap a pair of fingers.

Mel hadn't risen to anything like her full height, rather, lowly she sprung as the hand that bled was grabbed by the wrist in a vice-like squeeze as it retreated back away from the desk, a piece of furniture she'd see herself over with the ease of something almost feline. Cared so little what was scattered or stepped on as she landed at its other side in the speed notorious of their species. An uncomfortable position she'd pay no mind to as it didn't swell heat between her legs to see the king in his chair straddled loosely, his knees between her own. His throat was too warm beneath hier free hand, the bloody palm pressed to the arm of his chair in a need to stay it well away from her face,though its leaking red liquid still tainted her fingers with its warmth.

His throat was warm still, the cup of her hand clutched around the crook of his jaw, pressing firmly against his windpipe. The beating of his heart pulsed against her fingertips—

Chest heaving faintly, the dark and gold of their eyes pinned together like warring beasts, too close for her own comfort. ”You tease things you ought not, Rian,” too serious and the smell of him, that sweet cloying cotton that bunched in her lungs was nothing she could fight off as it deepened the veins around her eyes. The warm feel of it against the back of her throat, half as warm as the liquid from her glass and even in only its fumes, was an insanity she wasn’t hesitant to let bleed faintly across the short tether between them.

"I hope you're thrilled,"

--------------------
user posted image
May 3 2018, 03:14 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
In a moment, everything shifted.

She was on his lap, his hand grabbed as though she could prevent its meanness. The throat as well. The former down on the armrest in some what the eyes don’t see the throat doesn't throb, hungrily spiel that that wouldn’t work with its scent; blood-stained and painting her in red as well. And then the latter, held nice in a palm like it wouldn’t tease her with the beating reminder of his tenacious heart. A press after a press after a press as it bleated with no real regard for safekeeping his blood inside, for surely if this continued he’d see himself decanting down her throat like the finest bottle of wine she had had in a while. And yet, yet for all this and all that had happened, with her so close and her eyes so crazy and gorgeous, all Ryan could do by the way of a reaction was offer that slight, bare bounce of his shoulders, an easy shrug, appearing all too casual, and nonplussed, and talk--

“I believe we are forgetting something, love,” he said, the shrug almost transferred over to his tongue. He lingered on her with his attention--

“I am not the only one.”

His eyes bled harshly, golden and black immediately. In a jerk of movement, he had stood up and shoved the chair to go skittering into the bookcase behind him, his one, and the only free hand down on the desk in a hard slam that helped leverage him away from the prison of her legs and erect. Even though he didn’t shrug her off, he did plant her on the desk-- and himself over her, bowling her over the desk like in some act of passionate, hasty love-making between lovers who’d been separate for far too long not to lust endlessly after each other.

It’d be then, however, that he’d be stopped.

Down over her and held up by the hand tight ‘round his throat, keeping him away from his goal: her.

His lips gently parted and then closed, concealing view of the fangs that he had popped. He smirked, and continued to lean over her.

He’d have attacked her neck, and drained her off some blood if her hand hadn’t been in the stupid way, and still he felt its palm right there against his Adam’s apple, an obstacle worthwhile hate. He entertained his vapid, shallow hate, a gentle, smoldering expression smoothed down on the woman who’d be least entertained by its presence. His hand moved to hers, fingers wrapping around the wrist in an easy and titillating hold that returned them to the previous suggestion of lovers; it was just too soft. The softness caved however--

As he would her arm, too, loosening it from his hold to stick hand on the inside of it and deliver a severe chop to the wrist, just to detach its grip from his throat.

He only needed one hand. One hand to free his throat and growl in the back of his throat, a sweet, amused noise even if to your common prey, it would be the last noise they heard.

He tried grabbing her hand. Wrestling it in his but he understood, too, she was too skilled to permit what he planned; a dive for her neck, his free hand grabbing hers to give her a new kind of job. If she twisted his other, no matter. Pain, she would learn, was never an issue.

He dived, then, and decided:

To hell with it all. His whimsy rang in his head, cold his eyes, and knowing well that this either ended with him in her throat, sucking her blood out of her or saw her as the victor, throat wet at last with the blood of her chosen ruler. One she wouldn’t make the mistake of naming that ever again, but for as long as this day would last, he was one--

And she was his, in this bizarre, bloodied way.

His eyes were a daring, icy golden-black and that showed his understanding of the situation. An acceptance of the win he’d fight for.

Or the loss he didn’t mind at all.

He had lived far too fucking long after all to crumble just because one woman sucked from him like a whore.

--------------------
user posted image
May 4 2018, 01:36 AM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
Mel could feel it then, the parch of her throat as she warred with control and the need to cling to it. A seal she didn’t dare break and it beat just beneath her fingertips like a wanton whore that battered her lashes from the other side of the room. Once broken, once the sweet ambrosia she knew was nestled beneath his skin had slipped past her lips there was no telling how difficult the control would be to grapple with on a regular basis. It remained a mystery yet, something carefully contained and while her mouth dried at the thought of it, Melaina knew it was only a matter of time before it became an issue she hadn’t the power to stop herself from. But control was hers still, a thing she detested losing at the behest of Ryan’s teasing. A man who flirted and it mattered not what it was he thought he rubbed himself against, it was nothing that would end them well, of that Mel was entirely sure.

But his eyes bled and the world shifted, her back found his desk and the still the space between her legs was full of the warmth of him. She detested this as well, though held him at bay by the leverage against his throat, its swallowing and the furious beating of his heart were nothing that eased the moment. Though his lean was heavy, her throat was yet safe from the wild and dangerous glint in his eyes. The same that had caught the light in hers a moment ago, the need just behind the surface of their dual hues, that would seek possession of the ruby river coursing through their veins.

The cruel slide of her fangs against the inside of lips was never a comfortable squeeze, sprung forth on threat of needed defense, on threat of the warm blood that coursed just beneath her palm as they warded off the other in a game she was sure would be walked in on and considered an easy rounding of second base on straight on the third. Some rough foreplay she’d have hissed and spat at in everything like hatred and a severe lacking in want. The idea wasn’t lost on her but neither was the danger that had nothing to do with lovers at all.

Her arm caved and her wrist wrenched free of his throat—

There was no trust behind her eyes as he dove for her throat, one hand busy warding off its capture and the other would see forearm pressed against chest in a barring to slow his momentum. Her opposite wrist stilled, allowed its capture as the barring arm shifted quickly to weave itself up in a hooking of elbow over the opposite shoulder. It stayed his fangs and saved her throat while giving her twisted frame enough leverage to see them rolled with a shift of hip over hip. Too close, their proximity was intimate and lost on her as the pounding of her heart voided any thought after the friction between them. An elbow planted on the desk beside his throat and her heavy lean over Ryan still saved them both from fang, though not from the obvious.

”There’s no coming back from this, love,”

It felt far more honeyed on his tongue, held nothing like mocking, a fact she lilted over as her arm slid back.

The lean of her was still heavy and low-slung, pinning, as she pressed forearm against his chest. The capture of her wrist nothing that mattered, though she’d keep his hand busy for the time being as they half laid there across the surface of his desk like teenage boys who’d set out to tussle out their differences.

Seconds.

It’d not take long for for her arm to shift, pinning his shoulder beneath her weight as hand slipped over neck to push against his cheek. The stretch curve of his neck was nothing that would remain bare for longer then a few seconds before lips peeled back and fangs sunk into the succulent pale flesh that encased everything that would see the end to the low, delicate pulse of want in the pit of her. Gone were the days of relative ease as blood flowed across her tongue.

Her bite was nothing sweet and kind, it sunk itself in to the gums in a hold possessive and claiming.

Eyes rolled back behind lids and she drew in a suck hard and just as possessive, the blood easing her taunt muscles though her lean was nothing if not heavier still as lips sealed tight against Ryan’s skin. It’d been years since Stavros, since the last time anything as finely aged swept down her throat. The moan at the back of her throat was batted away and denied though she felt it as her arm shifted, hand slipping from his cheek to wind around the other side of his neck, bending in an angle better for the burrow of her fangs. The warm smell of his skin just beneath her nose was nothing that bettered the latched want to see him ended—

Still she clung desperately to the notion of control, the famished draw slowed after the first. Savored and let the sweet, rich liquid pool against her tongue of its own accord while ignoring the warm press of him just beneath her.

--------------------
user posted image
May 4 2018, 04:31 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
She rolled him over.

It came as no surprise to him. Win or lose, the color of the situation, he didn’t see himself truly bewildered, or even offended, or even pliant, and soft in the wake of this loss as it took to his person. Latched onto like a dog. If it wagged its tail it’d be gone. It happened though, him being stopped and in that final moment before he was rolled over, he just gave her a smirk calculative and cold. Not even amused. Aware, conscious of whatever million things that just sped through his attention, all too fast for a mortal though to Ryan and his mind so illogical red and botched, like a surgery and thus predictably unpredictable in terms of function, they were: slow. He noted them just like he did the motion. Rolled on his back and his legs dangled over on the floor, feet down, flat on the ground. He was tall. And he just stared at her, as though he’d search her expression. She uselessly pinned him down, a forearm on his chest.

A hand on his head. He would admit, as she turned his cheek, he didn’t like it.

The spoils go to the winner.

He closed his eyes for it.

The pain that came was almost insignificant. She wasn’t even half as rough as the roughest of men. Even half as bad a pair of hands. It didn’t matter, and she spiked him with it for a moment, and his eyes, though already, narrowed briefly. She flooded his body with oxytocin and he hated what they were for a moment.

His world turned soft and pretty.

Such were the powers of the liquefied trust coursing through him like lust. Such, quick to infect his mind, breeding a sense of trust that was made all the more powerful for her age. His own acted back as well. To tease her, tempt and adorn her with the scent of itself like the best kind of dangled prey since long stalked for its retreating and merry back. He’d spent such a lifetime of running away, you’d think for her attachment to his neck, it made sense she tore through flesh like this were the last and final taste she had.

His age helped him save his face. It was a power that enabled him to possess a lick of useless control, a manner of defying the overpowering sensation spreading on quickly until in every part of his figure. He felt light then, attaching to his ire, attracted on spot. Felt like he adored her (he didn’t), and like he wanted her (never), and he screwed his eyes shut and killed off any sound.

Killed that need, so wrong, so foul to moan out loud, losing somewhat when his lips parted-- when.

His breath hitched.

The world was pretty.

He released his arms and let them slump by his side. He trembled out his breath, attaching to his annoyance. He opened his eyes, amused, and in hate, stilling his frame from whatever silly expression it willed to express next. No arching. No moans and nothing then. He moved his arms. Wound one around her waist.

One to her head. Surely to yank her off.

It didn’t come.

To go through her hair, not pressing, not urging anything except for enjoying her like she, too, was a neck. Something soft, and great. Pliant beneath the sharp of his mouth, pinning after a drink of blood. Like. And his lips remained parted, and then what happened next made sense:

A sigh of a breath.

Bliss sang along the bond.

He took her hand. Wrestled it free and suddenly and to his mouth it went, his fangs out-- her wrist, HIS, his alone. Bitten through in as hard a bite as she’d given him, and a bite that spilled her blood down his mouth, clumsy and so it trailed past. He widened his maw--

Shifted his piercing hold.

Bit in, hard and proper. Possessively so, enveloping the side of her wrist in a maw with a pair of fangs on the upper row of teeth and the lower. Wet by her blood, mean in her sinew. And through the pristine porcelain complexion, and the quivering red of her person. Down, down as though to gnaw, stealing her sweet, sweet blood. Holding it to her wrist no matter what it fucking took.

Ambrosia in his mouth.

His other hand remained stupidly in her hair, tangled through the horrible, red, red strands.

Bliss need and power sang along the bond.

--------------------
user posted image
May 5 2018, 11:11 PM
37
posts
659 Hybrid Owner @ Black Claw
wolf / vampire
Baby, I'll behave, if you let me stay. Please don't think that I'm begging you for love. Is that what you want? Like the other boys. Someone you can flaunt, Like the other toys.
Arawn Pack
Demi-pansexual
single // shipped (Ryan)
Mel / Lany

awards

abstruse ardor
Sarah
she/her/that bitch | PTSD | 3/3/3 | Sarahroo#5726
It was a hard thing to describe, the complex taste of them to their own and even then, Ryan was levels above what the others posed as. The texture silken and warm, like smooth, long-aged whiskey that slid down your throat with enough bite that it riled some basal part of you that excited in a defiance against its burn. It was familiar and both not, but it was something she knew well as it pooled against her tongue until it was too numerous and needed to slide down her throat in a hungry gulp. Melaina’s thoughts were innocent if not bloody, the sudden and strange want to sprawl reverse their positions, not at all to feel the weight of him or the warmth between her legs as he bared down, but rather so gravity did the work for her, allowed it to drip down into the back of her throat until she felt that overwhelming feel of drowning and saw throat opened and liquid to coat the whole of her insides in flushes of heady warmth.

It was such a basal and bestial want to suffocate in small moments, beneath the sheer weight of it as it poured its delicate and difficult taste across her tongue. The moment lost to her senses as the soft pull of suction helped it along its path. Lost so much so that there came no fight when her hand was pulled, stiff and with the natural resistance of a brace needing to give way to the urging of another hand that tugged it in a different direction. It was nothing that gave her any great joy, that he reminded her he wasn’t just a listless body full of sustenance, but that he was himself. Ryan. A man she’d known as Rian for too long to let the name crumble to ash, forgotten and long lost.

But he was Ryan, this man she half loathe and half respected.

Hated the feel of his stupid fingers through her hair, an invasion of her person but nothing so rude she’d break the latch of her teeth. Hated more the feel of him across the bond, and surely the others would look at him like he was everything broken when they next saw him. She’d only been tethered for a few scant weeks and he was never anything but illusive and mildly unhappy. A pensive man that never dressed himself well in his happiness, and yet now he tainted them all with his shuddering bliss.

Melaina's wasn’t nonexistent then, though it would bloom soon after—

Teeth through her wrist and the soft draw from his veins would cease its suction to study this other invasion. Termed nothing she felt as threat, though her jaw tightened in a tick, some fruitless warning that she’d not let go even as his teeth realigned and pain spiked through her again, a constrictor who’d every intent to swallow him whole and digest him over hte course of the next month. A possessive clamping that would have dared anyone who walked in, to rip her away in a need to save their illustrious leader.

She’d not let go until she was good and ready, the neck beneath her teeth claimed and she’d drain the next person who attempted to see her off for the cheek of such a move.

His bite wove her mind with the ease of trust she didn’t much care for but couldn’t also stop. It buried in deep and saw to a fitful relaxation as it hummed across the bond in a manner of lust. Nothing that sought to flash glib fingers across the waist of his pants, but rather the sort that reveled in the presence of one of her own—

One of her own, worthy.

Mellowed her mind even as the fight towards an end that saw him dead and drained in her hold was warred with. A battle that labored her breath in a friction she also hated, chest against chest and she wished he wasn’t so solid and reminiscent of everything from her past that had ever forsaken her. That had cast her aside and made her watch his very own downfall. That had seen to her own once he’d been deemed broken and of no further use. To break their spirit in a wild grasp after control over something that would never be.

Pained her chest in deep inhales and languid exhales, heart pounding with every defiance, hard and slow against her ribs.

The rushing would finally ease and with it the excitement as well, the body still pumping out blood but its force waning even as its reserves did as well.

It was nothing easy, the control that saw her fangs forced back, slipping from flesh even as she stayed until skin began its quick rehealing. She might be a made monster, but that didn’t mean she need make a mess of things, nor waste the taste of Heaven across her tongue to soil the papers stubbornly scattered beneath him. Waited then, until his bleeding slowed to little more than a beading before she pulled herself away. Again, it was nothing easy, the driving itch was there, docile under the press of his teeth through her skin, but gnawing in its need to eat all of him.

Leave not a trace for anyone else.

Leave nothing, as he was inevitably hers.

A lie, but tell the monster that and watch it never obey to agree.

Eyes duel colored yet and she’d leverage herself with her free hand, urging his from her hair though the song across the bond gentled, left her bestial and raw. Melaina would confess to only hatred after the soft nuzzle of her nose against his neck, a product of the lupine she couldn’t reign in quick enough before it’d had its way with her actions. Leveraged herself up all the same, the need to yank away wasn’t there— was in part but she’d not manage it without the panic of impending death on her heels. Instead watched Ryan, his teeth buried into her wrist. He looked almost angelic, his stubborn pale curls and the sound of his bliss across the bond, like babe contentedly latched to teat—

She’d hate it in a while, in a few minutes, and forever after.

--------------------
user posted image
May 6 2018, 06:33 AM
184
posts
662 hybrid owner of a hybrid shelter // Alpha
wolf/vampire
Leave me in chains, strip me of shame, caress me with pain, 'cause I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please as you say-- Don't cry, mercy. There's too much pain to come.
Arawn alpha
demisexual
single//shipped w/ Mel Stavros
Ryan

awards

evil with face
Eien
her/she | GMT +1 | 3/3/3 | Eien#0897
She eventually pulled away.

Blood. It sang down his throat, warm in his stomach, blood. Far better than a woman, far better than the heat between her legs that people so often sought like it was molten treasure, far better than the large palm of your partner, a man who towered. Better, sexless, and glorious, better, and Ryan could have drained her then and there, aged wine with hints of lust. He didn’t want to fuck her. Even though she stirred something primal, he’d shove any suggestion that she poured blood into his loins. He didn’t harden. He hardly registered she was a woman, at least on that basal, red-blooded level that deferred to the space between her legs and the lumps on her chest as a general help when the mood sank.

He didn’t even acknowledge she somehow operated them, as though he actually believed they were burdens to her, and she was more of a robot soldier than a living, warm-blooded person. Even though he felt the evidence of the latter right in his mouth. Pouring in, sucked even when she finally pulled away. Shrugged his hand off her hair and he permitted its descent so immediately she was on fire, possibly. She burned even him. And his hand had never been there just like he’d never put a piece of her into himself.

She’d not sucked his blood.

He’d not liked it.

He didn’t live with the breathing, living reminder she was a woman, a most wasted of sentiments on her person, and the least useful thing to be when he was involved. A woman, as though with the understanding she had breasts he’d suddenly look down at them, and adore them as randomly as he’d viciously hated everything she represented.

If she smirked now perhaps he’d suggest she be gone.

He turned his head.

A small rivulet of blood down his face, tongue darting to lick long its short trail and return every bit of her flavor right where it belonged. Into his mouth, down his throat, her wrist ever so finely scented as it continued to be held at his mouth and his eyes, golden and black, settled on this woman with a passion that ran icy cold.

He hooded his eyes and turned them away once more as he stuck out fangs and buried them into her wrist just when it thought to heal. When he took her, claimed her just by the way of her flavor, his both hands yanking closer hers to his mouth in a clutch that made idealized him as a man often starved.

If he was to be frank, most of people tasted like garbage. But he didn’t compare.

He sucked her, and didn’t moan into that. Didn’t make a sound. Refused that notion like it was wrong.

Wrong, even though he made a lie then and there when he: sighed.

Shuddering past his lips and into her skin in a sign of: relief. She might have blessed him, temporarily, with the taste of her blood like he supposed he had her. And then, finally, he released her.

He tamed the look in his eyes. That feral dark. Paled them and looked at her, reluctant, utterly dismissive about her and even resentful she had still this cheek of being a person, living and breathing in his vicinity in a forced confrontation that wasn’t wanted by either.

Maybe, she too hated him. That he had the similar cheek, an obdurate, crazy man and his need to cockroach his way into every next lifetime despite the hundred tried times to claim his life.

Even now.

Although he didn’t think she’d tried to kill him, he didn’t doubt they’d come near it, possessively. Drunk on the blood and now here they were. His blue, deceptively calm eyes searching her, her face, her lips, brows quirking and his head cocked as he casually released her hand and brought his up to her face, all to wipe, firmly, that bit of escaped blood from her lip.

And when he did that.

Lying still on his back in no matter of haste, Ryan just tapped his own lips (smearing the blood he'd cleaned), mirroring the spot he’d touched on hers and spoke, casually--

“You had something there…”

A pause.

“Me.”

Without a smirk, how did she look.

How did he?

Ryan cocked his head, splaying his hair down on the desk, lying there half supine and half not, and he just looked at her, brows arched, his dry, and cold expression ever so slightly heated like it burned with a tall, but pale fire.

But fire was still fire.

Cold, and all-consuming.

Red at the deep and hidden center like the color of passion.

He glared at her then, suppose you could call it so, he glared at her: casually, with emotion and the unspoken order to move off.

--------------------
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