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Post by Willow on Feb 18, 2011 1:26:27 GMT -6
Mm, he smelled so delicious covered in all of that blood. Her tongue flicked against his skin again as scented deeper, picking out the specific tone of his own blood beneath all of the others. Her lips parted, dainty but sharp fangs poised not just to nip and play, but to rip into him. Mm. Oh yes, she wanted to taste him. But no, he had to ruin her fun.
She flew, rolled, and was crouched before him with a snarl rumbling from her chest, the heat and desire that had warmed her tainted by a stab of irritation. She had been one nip away from tasting his blood again, and she wanted it. Oh how she wanted it.
The need pushed at her and she snarled again, pushing past irritation and into anger as he loomed over her. She hated that. Then he crouched down to her level.
A little smirk flitted over her lips as he crooned to her in that delicious, barbaric growl of his. Just the sound made her body heat with bloodlust and other things that made her blood feel just as electric. Just as on fire. This was what he could do to her, what he did to her pretty much just by existing. He was so vicious, so arrogant. A thing of power and destruction. A demon to make all other demons weep either in fear or envy. Well, all other demons except for herself.
Her eyes flashed gold as she let out a low, maniacal snicker. “Mm, nothing I can’t handle,” she promised. They were faced off against each other, just a few feet between her and his skin, his touch, his blood, his power. His claws.
Then she did not wait for him to move or respond, she just pounced. Her movements were lightning-fast, her claws out and her lips curled back in a vicious snarl as she attacked him with enough force to send them both tumbling to the ground. Her attention was gravitationally drawn to the pulse of his neck.
There was this need to shed blood. Asina needed to rip, to destroy, to kill and maim. To torture. She needed to torture something. Something that would scream, and continue to scream as she did unspeakable things to it.
There was a flash behind her eyes, reminding her of her rage moments before the agony had struck and her lust had followed thanks to Ciel’s proximity. (Of course, Ciel’s proximity pretty much always made her body react at least somewhat lustfully.) That flash was disjointed, but she knew what it was. She needed to rip, kill, destroy, maim, and torture because that was who and what she was. For the fun of it, for the glory of it, for the power in feeling the life of some undeserving creature get snuffed out under her hands. Innocents were no fun, and she had no idea why there was so much stigma against demons slaughtering virgins and innocents.
Oh no, the best victims were the sinners, the best kills out of vengeance.
“Are you going to fight me, demon?” she crooned against his ear. “Or are you going to come with me to find someone more fun to slice up?”
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Post by libellule on Feb 18, 2011 2:17:09 GMT -6
He loved to watch that anger bloom over her feature as his height only enraged her. It was amusing to him. He could almost chuckle at her annoyance. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Hm… sure she could. He flashed her a dark toothy smirk and she launched at him. Her golden eyes brought her true self to life in that body of hers. To an onlooker she seemed like a lithe, frail little thing. But when those eyes came to life… she fooled no one. She became Asina when that power rolled through her. Rolled through him.
He growled, annoyed as she tumbled them to the ground. He wanted to play rip and shred. It was no fun if they kept tumbling to the ground. He wanted her on her back, glistening and painted in her own crimson. The want blossomed in his reddening eyes as she cooed in his ear. His claws reached up and dragged themselves viciously through her soft supple skin. He bared his teeth into her neck, the scent of her driving him.
Then the wave of her blood hit his nostrils and he groaned in such a sadistic lust. He was possessed as his fangs dug into her flesh, his tongue darting out against the jut of her collarbone. His claws could only dig deeper into her as the taste of her washed over his sense once more. The things she doused him in. The feel of her against him, that lithe naked body of hers.
His teeth released her as his tongue continued a soft lapping onslaught. “I was planning on fighting you, my dear,” he cooed in a rasp voice, his claws scraping across her bare stomach and breasts, “because the thought of you writhing underneath me…” His devious chuckle could only fill his intimate statement. He loved it when she shuddered against him. The thrill it brought him and the limitless pride.
“Please understand Asina,” he purred darkly, his red, wet lips helping his hot breath against the neck of his mate, “That you will always be the most fun to slice up… Mm… but it seems as though you may have some /other/ poor soul in mind…”
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Post by Willow on Feb 18, 2011 2:37:16 GMT -6
Blood flowed and it was glorious. It felt free, so endlessly free, and she responded in kind, allowing her talons to slice through his flesh. The scent of that crimson drug was overpowering her senses and making her act outside of her plans and technical desires. With his teeth against her skin and the sensation of his claws ripping into her, tearing into her, her blood intoxicating him as much as his did her, she stopped thinking altogether.
Any idea she had just had was forgotten in the red haze of blood, lust, and violence.
A sinister rumble of twisted joy rolled from her lips as she ran her hands over his chest and then his shoulders, her claws leaving gashes like open, crying mouths in their wake. Mm, the feeling of him. The scent of him. It was enough to make her mad with want, and she let it. She didn’t pause, didn’t stop to think, she just took.
Oh and there was so much that she wanted from him, craved from him.
But first, first she wanted to feel the way he writhed under her touch. She wanted to feel how she made him tense and shudder with the prick of her claws and the grazing of her teeth, the motion of her body against his. By tackling him to the ground, she was on top of him, straddling him. Now her knees tightened on either side of him and she smirked down at him. Claws dug deep into his shoulders as she leaned over and down to take his lips, possess them, mar them with his own blood as sharp little fangs cut them up so nicely.
Only then did his words touch her, his mouth against her neck as his claws raked over her naked skin, causing her to shudder in that lovely gnash of pain he caused. So delightful. So delicious.
“Mm,” she crooned, and her voice was husky and low. Devious. “Is that so? I knew there was a reason we worked so well together.” Her body rolled, moved, her buttocks grazing over his groin even as she dragged her claws down his chest and over his sides, carving pretty lines of fresh color and nuance into his flesh. The old wounds were already healing on both of them, so she felt the need to keep him bleeding. His blood pooling, dripping, all for her. This was the affection of a demon. In their logic, they healed so quickly from the slice of another demon so quickly for a reason, right?
Her body arched and she smirked down at him again, snapping her teeth at him. “There is always time for both, Parallel,” she purred, sex and darker things saturating her voice. “And what I have in mind involves a long, painful torture followed by a slow death, then a gift basket.” A quirky smile here, which quickly melted into that sensual smirk that fit so well across her features.
“And then, naturally, a celebration.” Which always meant more blood, and in this case, their own.
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Post by libellule on Mar 15, 2011 16:05:09 GMT -6
He loved to pull at her strings. That snarl was one of the most beautiful things that could ever be placed on her, except for him. Those eyes and the beautiful of molten gold that matched his own were enchanting, hypnotically so. She was his ultimate opponent. His ultimate prize. Something he would beat and never beat. She would always be his and his alone, through eternity and the gods themselves, no matter how cursed by them he may have been.
He felt her craving, her carnal desires that whispered red drenched desires. He roared powerfully at her pounce as they tumbled to the ground. He growled a vicious love-filled sound. He noted her obsession with his neck, his finger skimming up over her bare chest, up to his mark on her neck. His eyes grew arrogant and pride filled them to the brim. She had draped herself across him like the smallest blankets.
He trailed his hand across the small back of her, skimming it with a soft touch. “Mm I was planning on destroying you, my dear… But that might be a little… upsetting when I’m done with you.” His voice was drunken with dark pleasure almost like her was in fact leaning towards maiming her. Which he was only in a way that would have her blind with other things…
“Tell me, my lovely queen… What did you have in mind…?” His hands had snaked across the small of her back, forcing her tight against him and his chiseled figure. He propped them up as he bent his elbow, the other arm remaining draped protectively, possessively over her.
He couldn’t help but ponder about that stake. The way it had imprinted itself in his mind. Those purges and that ancient pain he felt from it and everything that witch had caused his kin, his queen, and even himself.
Ciel eyed the shackle on his wrist and the scars of trying to escape its hold underneath it. It was old, so incredibly old, it should’ve crumbled into ash by now. His power should have crushed it into oblivion centuries ago. He’d had it on since he could remember. It had never, and it seemed like it never would, come off unless his hand was cut off. Something in his mind whispered blurrily to him that it had something to do with that golden bitch, but he couldn’t remember. It was so strange that the oldest parts of his mind were the strongest memories, but then somewhere in between it all pieces went blurry and then it became clear as yesterday once again. He didn’t dwell on it, some intuition told him that it was nothing that wouldn’t come back eventually. Ciel also decided that if that bitch would be dead soon anyway those blurry instances wouldn’t matter. He only remembered two names and so many shadowed figures. The more he thought of it the more it made his head hurt.
He hadn’t noticed his light snarl that had woven itself across his features. It was clear the thought irritated him and his memories were an annoyance. But they kept the other viral ones out of his head.
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Post by Willow on Mar 15, 2011 20:19:55 GMT -6
That touch of his hands dragging over her skin, sometimes petting and sometimes cutting but always caressing, it was more a comfort to her than anything else. Because it was his touch. Ciel’s. Her mate’s. Her Parallel’s. That touch of his had some power over her that could soothe or excite to his whim. It was a heady power, and one she knew that he was fully aware of. He would have to be an idiot not to notice the way she molded to the flux of how he touched her. Oh, if she really wanted to she could pull back, regain control over herself and her actions, her state of mind. It was that sense she backed away from all that power for. The only time she was truly unable to control herself was when she went fully berserk, or when she was so weak that her mind could get caught in the past.
And when that happened, Ciel was there to pull her back and hold onto her until she had her senses back. That was part of the link that they set when they invoked Parallel, but it was also a thing special to him. Special to them. Because even before they had invoked Parallel and had been accepted by that power, he had been able to pull her out of her mind. She wasn’t sure he would have been able to back her down out of her berserker without the Parallel link, but he had been able to pull her back into herself both when she was too weak to do it herself, and when she had been power-drunk and was pushed over a line that she shouldn’t have been forced to cross, not by who had pushed her.
The thought made her face suddenly darken and she snarled against him, her talons digging into the muscles of his chest for a moment as the rage washed over her and she allowed herself to let it go… for now. Demons did not forgive and forget, and one of the worst things you could do to a demon is betray a personal trust. Zanen knew that. When they returned, she would deal with him, but for now she would save her rage for him for later and instead indulge in the wellspring that was the bottomless pool of loathing she had for that wretched bitch who ruled the other half of Relmalir.
It seemed that she wasn’t the only one with a drifting mind, she noticed when Ciel snarled in correspondence with whatever his thoughts may be.
Asina wore a soft smile that made many an adversary and nearly every single newcomer that saw her underestimate her. It was the sweet smile, the one that fit the image she presented of a pretty, delicate young woman with a heart of gold who liked to make flower-tiaras with the village children. This was a natural smile for her, but anyone who knew her also knew that it wasn’t a smile to associate with sunshine and flowers. It was the smile of tender, vicious bloodshed.
The smile of the Queen’s Justice.
At least, that was what the soldiers called it. Captains would smirk at the terrified young men after the long, hard days of training and then whisper about the Queen’s Justice. Up in the mountain camps and in the great canyon, the term was used as a threat, a promise, and a curse. To wish someone the Queen’s Justice was to wish upon them the most painful and terrifying experience possible. Not death, or perhaps just not only death, but something worse. Something that can only be delivered by that sweet, soft smile. Some said that you knew it was the Queen’s Justice when she gave you that smile and kissed you gently, sweetly on the cheek. Chaste. Then the pain began, pain that was individually designed to suit your horror.
Now she wore that smile and she kissed Ciel softly on the mouth, pulled away half a breath, then sunk into him again, kissing him deeply. When she pulled back she locked eyes with her mate and stroked his face with one hand. The other one slid down and over his arm to rest on the shackle about his wrist, her eyes following it. She had never asked about his shackle, and she never would. It wasn’t in a demon’s nature to ask about things that had nothing to do with them unless it was freely offered information. So she didn’t say anything, she just smiled at him.
“We are going to take something from her that she cherishes,” she crooned softly to him now, her hand leaving his shackle and drifting up over his chest, just touching him. “And we are going to destroy it.” That sweet, dainty little smile. “And I’m going to mess up her stuff. She hates it when I mess up her stuff.” That wicked gleam in her eyes flashed as she leaned forward to kiss him again.
“Sound like fun?”
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