Oh how blissfully ignorant he was of the situation.
Words & actions contradicted one another, creating a paradigm of anomaly to sweetly enchant her senses to view him under the heavenly light. He was a soldier of the night, the one who yearned for a little taste of her metallic blood that ran within her veins — he was the child of Satan almighty, the emperor of the underworld. Yet, there had yet to be a moment where she feared his existence; he was predictable & lost, a mere child that sought for attention & redemption. While she was no saint sent by a higher being, fortunately for him, she was of grace when needed be.
Nails relentlessly dug into his flesh, creating pretty reds embedded onto his skin to informally mark her property as her own. He belonged to the one & only, but she was of free will. (What a hypocritical being she was). Seconds ticked by, inevitably exposing the mindset of the helpless underneath her uncharacteristically overpowering ones. Hesitation was for the weak and uncertainty was for the lost; a symbol that marked her existence. A twitch heightened the corner of her lips into a lazy smile at the saccharine words whispered into her ears, the amusement she had been concealing resurfacing once more.
"You can't infect what has already been infected."
Lips delicately (elegantly) press onto his, reminding him of the bitter tension that existed between the two unlikely yet similar figures. There isn't a desperate need to keep him around as much as it did for the other, but she does regardless for pure amusement & mirth.
"Let's set something straight," she muttered her hushed words, "I own you. Nothing more, nothing less."
pulling him into a maze of thirst & lust.
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