Christmas-Present for Whitney [ @vantrece ] ♡♡♡~
Distinguishably inhuman - his very own ways to mingle about with mortality. The inclination of holding no care for himself. The very sorts of playing own game [ with victory unattainable ]far too dangerous to not be accounted for anything less than perilous darkness.
And how she desired that fact so dearly. Playing with him, no matter which while [ as if he was only possible, the perfect partner to tease her back ], a delirious little dance and in such moments and days – it would drive them even higher. Higher, spiralling endlessly higher. With each passing moment’s of time where mortality’s worthlessness would call upon their aid and still find none the like but their mutual interest in seeing the world burn, enact by each other’s hands [ oh, how delightful it not truly was ].
It had been quite a fight [ laughable truly, for him nothing was even remotely tempting ]. Exclaiming itself, in a frantic aftermath. Oh, the very moment’s passing time that came after wash of power would finally abate - would assuredly die down.
It’s a new form of picture that unfolds before far too attentive eyes. Before those that took in and in, wanted to feast upon those that were such truly unattainable, and only had eyes for one another in those haunting few seconds where hundreds, thousands, of enemies, had been brought to ruin by the very sweep of one broad and powerful hand. The Vampire had not bothered to heal those slight lacerations [ his mind, it was quite tangled after carnage ], leaving a few splashes of blood to drip and trickle down his knuckles, coating wrist and finally, suitably – embellish the otherwise charred and unrecognisable floor. Splatters, slightly, to be of a fine film upon the burnt ground. Whatever attack that had obliterated solid surface, it scathed himself not at all. The scratches, the flowing crimson, a beautiful spectacle unfolding before cowardly eyes - as there was only one person [ one to his mind ] daring enough to approach and not flee [ oh, had they not tried it as well? desired it just in the same breath sweat would break out in numb and chilling fear? ].
Only brief seconds the Vampire gave towards shining wound was when his hand had been graced, caught and long fingers of cool touch to torn skin, made to lift it up nearer to scrutinising gaze. It got nothing but a mild snarl from the male – the grace of fingertips, in moving so gently over cuts and splits, catching descent on artificial texture, but still – there was this smile on lips – with feeling that [ yes ] such blood of his was hot and the slight sting present. He smiles as if he had devoured hell. And was about to spew out a hundreds of a different demons, laying them to his Queen’s feet in a reverent way of adoration for her bravery. Her pride. Her joy and make the world a chaos living disaster [ as the both of them were meant to rule ].
It’s interesting [ with all they hide from one another ], that his mind would mingle about with those unexpected pieces of the past [ oh, surely enough, Mistral would learn about it ], while his voice’s soothing tenor would growl and threaten. Would have her pinned down right before him, right in reach of a beast that could tear her to shreds.
How often could it not have happened in the past?
How often had she not teased him to bring an end to her very self and how willingly, openly, wanted and desired, had the pretty little cyborg not thrown herself in open jaws?
It’s quite the same, in moments just like these. With the slithering mass around them, like a maelstrom similar’s paradise, coiling in a snake-like way, to tempt and charm them both. Those that stand and still, and wanted to move [ wanted to be in places destining their ends ], wanted to be like him - like her - how daring they just were. Her hand that curls around his wrist. The other meant to have the monarch open up his own, to have long fingers spread apart and show, and provide the whole spectacle - the streams of blood to gloriously coat pale skin whole. She laughs as well, as if the sounds that fall from snarling lips, meant little to nothing for her sanity. That sanity that wanes more and more with the subtle sound of a returned purring growl, with eyes of chilling blue that would clash with heavy hellfires flaming in peril.
The air, it suddenly so feels, turned suffocating in simple ticks of the clock. Rising, to a warmer and warmer feel [ what a strange little illusion, were they not caught up in the middle of a winter’s snow? ], near unbearable to breathe in, by heavy armour donned by those around.
Why could they not tear their eyes from them?
Even knowing that on a whim, either of those warriors would take them as a price?
Could not tear those seeking gazes, lusting with a different want [ they were scared, terrified, and ached for more and more ] from the way those rivulets of boiling crimson, was now set to plump and softened lips. The way she kisses each knuckle anew. Leaves another form of sting, of heavy breathing pain, set beneath bent and torn ripples of skin. She had broken that contact of eyes he sought so thoroughly with each breath that threatens a chiming ring into her ear [ offered to him, as if waiting for sultry whisper to fall from lips - and nothing else those sounds of heavy danger were for them ].
She’s set to rile him up. To get more out of a man quite like him. More and ever more and how surely and deliberately greedy had they not become, wanting to hold each other’s last bating breath, in the delirious spirals of unknown pleasures [ how the Count would truly make her scream tonight. would have her worshipped in utmost delight ]. There hasn’t happened anything past the subtle grace of lips over each and every slightly open wound.
But it was enough - so that all changed the second it took for him to breathe.
Changed with the heavy bite of anodyne when her tongue soothes the open cuts. When her grasp tightens upon his wrist to keep him in place, her fingers slightly holding harder, to help the warrior from closing fist anew [ he was compliant by an inch. expectingly waiting for another twitch of a whim ]. That slight gracing fever running beneath pale of skin. The way those small trickling pulses, feasted upon, licked up and away, with each pulsing beat of a heart she so truly delights herself upon.
He might have just made her a bit too interested in his powers. Might have made her desiring all that was coursing through tall and monumental form, and keep for herself as greedily ready provided as he only sets her to behold. It’s an interesting little encounter. An entertaining back and forth in finding what boundaries there were still to cross [ none, none at all, he would give her his all, like she was his completely to devour ]. It was enough to leave a burst of energy to push back and away each and every single soul that lingered about instilled panicking arousal.
It was enough to have her laugh. That low and soothing cadence set to the depths of her throat that chimes out in a beautiful serenade only for themselves to observe [ nobody else would ever know about the intricacies of their songs ]. She’s shivering with the might coiling around them in endless waves, and shivers just with the same set of fine and light trembles she blinks away with those lidded eyes and softened smile when her head does tilt and lift, and she finds herself anew reborn.
How beautiful does it not look? Each and every moment that had been used to lick up darkening slivers of crimson from his hands, she would lick - in the same motion riling up a slumbering beast - her lips that begged for a subtle and still claiming kiss. How desirable was she not for all those that were drowning in a monster’s chaos, with how they would be pressed to the ground, writhing and turning themselves inside out [ how dare they think they would have won. for only both those that hold the reign, would decide who would get out with their measle rests of life ].
Had decided, what was now here and right in these ephemeral moments.
They could lay eyes upon something of monstrous pulchritude, and beg and plead and pray for it to be the last thing they ever encounter, they ever behold, in the gracing allure of a single monster’s prey.
She was all those little tidbits he ever wanted to have [ like watching and searching and finding her amongst a sea of billions of souls ], and all else he ever craved with the kiss placed open lips slightly apart. With how he could devour her, drink in her soul. And still would numb mind and body, perceptions sharp and unwavering, with the gentleness only a beast, a Count, a King could truly give. Truly offer. Truly know, that she would want it all, would want to burn just whole.
