"Interesting... It's... Not entirely unpleasant." He remarks with an affectionate smirk, looking down upon his masterpiece. Sly as ever, not wanting to make his true feelings slip through. No, the mask must stay on.
"Have a taste." He follows up with another lick of his hand before pushing his tongue into his mouth again, still hungry, still starving for more. Tatyan couldn't put up much of a fight, not after all that transpired. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to fight back anymore, he was so... Conflicted.
Never in all his life did he believe that this would be how he spends his time in the famed Castle Ravenloft. Instead of defeating his foe, he has become food for it.
The not-so unfamiliar tang of blood in his mouth, along with the heat of the kiss, caused an abashed moan to escape into his hosts' greedy maw. Searing hot breath mixed with cool nothingness heightened the sensations. Torn between two worlds, living and undeath. The dangerous sparks electrifying him in a way he had never felt before. The sinking dread in his chest knowing that just on the other side of the wall his dear friends and companions sit, probably awaiting their return in terrible fear for Tatyan's life; Little did they know it was his soul at stake.
The Vampire: Strahd had everything within reach. His precious Tatyana under his fangs, her soft, yet surprisingly muscular form heating his body. Intrigued by her sudden reincarnation into the body of a male, but astonishingly he is not deterred. Of course their love would transcend such petty things such as one's sex, no, his love for Tatyana was much more than skin deep.
The devil watched the mans face closely as he began exploring this unfamiliar body. He could smell the wine off his breath, the panting mortal whose heart was beating like a rabbit in the mouth of a wolf. His left hand assuredly sliding up and down the mans torso, engraving it into his memory, never blinking for fear of the smallest reaction he could miss.
Tatyan was clinging to him now. Unable to hold himself up any longer after being devoured so thoroughly. If not for Strahd's steady body pinning him to the stony wall, he would surely crumple to the floor like the mess he felt he was. He was in the den of the beast and, instead of slaying it, here he was getting fondled by it.
The close proximity mixed with the hot flush of wine was making Tatyan's head spin, he felt shy and unsure of everything that was happening. He allowed his head to slip into the crook of the creatures' neck; to hide? To ground himself? To cool his burning skin upon the monster of the lands? Or perhaps he was reciprocating the affections for someone he knew deep within his soul. Questions he can't bring himself to answer.
