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| It's Warmer In Hell, So Down We Go; for Da Kano | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 18 2010, 06:44 PM (146 Views) | |
| Gray | May 18 2010, 06:44 PM Post #1 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Name: Ansleigh O’Brien Nickname: Sly Age: 43 (turned at 25, and so appears to be that age) Gender: Male Sexuality: Bisexual Ethnicity: Caucasian; an American mutt. Race: Vampire Appearance: Sly Sly often appears to be of a remarkable height; he is, in fact, only six-foot-two, but his lanky torso and broad, angular shoulders cause him to appear more imposing. There is also, perhaps, a more subtle factor. A certain confidence of carriage, an intimidating, upright bearing for which no scientific measurement exists, which might lend the illusion of greater height. Dark auburn hair, shot through with vermillion, blonde, crimson, and umber, falls in rough, uneven layers; often obscuring his eyes or brushing the joining of his neck and shoulder. It is a sign of vanity – ironically, as one ventures lower and lower on the economic ladder, vanity grows inversely to the amount of wealth. The eyes he so often hides behind unremarkable dark glasses are molten gold in true light, but may pass as a pale brown in dimmer settings. The fair skin with which he was born has only lightened with time. His garments are the second-hand cobbling of a downtrodden bohemian; long, fraying sweaters, ripped jeans, fading t-shirts, supple leather trousers, myriad belts and chains, denim jackets and scuffed boots. Bio: Sly was born amidst the last rush of baby boomers into hash hazes, love beads, and radical political philosophy. But by his teen years, disco was dead and the flower children were a vague, oft-mocked memory. Most had chosen to overdose, starve, or become respectable businesspersons. He grew to adulthood in the disillusionment of the 1980s, drew in like air the ideal that superficiality was all that truly mattered – that it didn’t matter what you did so long as you looked good doing it. He found his niche in his twenties: he dropped out of med school and moved out west to Los Angeles, much to his mother’s horror. Bouncing between jobs (one week a waiter, then a mechanic, then a garbage man, a waiter again, a valet, a factory worker) he devoted every breath of free air to the band he formed with equally rootless strangers: a small-time punk operation that was never quite named. It could have been The Dobermans, Iggy Ziggy, Unapologetic Wastrels, depending on when you asked. Playing furious bass and chiming in with rough backing vocals was exhilarating, even if it didn’t pay the rent. This sort of lifestyle was most certainly not what his newly minted accountant parents had in mind. It was quite easy, therefore, to fall off the radar when necessary. There had not been so much as a word exchanged between them in years. Quite useful to cut all ties, even fraying ones, when he woke up after a one-night stand feeling as though his eyes had been scalded, his stomach roiling with acid. He was hunched over cold porcelain for nearly an hour, feeling as vomit became dry heaving became bile, before he even noticed how sore he was – in his neck, his shoulder, the crook of his elbow, his inner thigh. Shaky as a lamb, feeling as though the thought of a breeze might knock him over, he tried to remember the drunken night before. An angular, feral looking man with black hair and pale eyes, the most fascinating tattoos twisting over his arms. He found himself unable to leave his apartment that day – every time he attempted to do so, that same paralyzing nausea gripped him, stole his control over body and mind. It was the same the following day, and the day after. And after. Only at night was he able to walk freely outdoors. And in that regard, his freedom increased a thousand fold. He was stronger – strong enough to rip a steel door from its hinges, as he discovered in a difficult to explain accident. He was faster, able to sprint like an Olympian. And he was magnetic, somehow; the eyes now drawn to him were unmistakable, much as he tried to discourage them. It was hard to explain, but it seemed as though most of those he met were suddenly eager to please him – to sell him suddenly discounted items, but him drinks, flatter him, hold his attention. It was an annoyance tolerable only because of its use. Suspicions of a fantastical sort took root when he found himself unable to tolerate sunlight, and only grew when he found that no matter how much he ate, he was constantly besieged by a gnawing hunger. And so Sly reluctantly accepted his new vampiric existence. For several months he tried to live in the manner that seemed most logical; found himself a crypt, caught rats and birds, refused to wash his hair or clothes, until he looked truly monstrous. Then he got sick of smelling like decay, of being cold at night and sleeping in a crowded coffin (he felt uncomfortable discharging its rightful occupant) and of picking feathers from between his teeth. His old crappy apartment was still up for rent – he convinced his suspicious landlord to take him in again, this time without sudden disappearances. His crappy clothes were in cardboard boxes in the boiler room, as even his stingy landlord felt cruel giving such pathetic garb to charity. The only change was his job – he could hardly explain his sudden peculiarities to his bandmates, or work by day. He found dull occupation in joining the custodial staff of a nearby hospital. It was simple, quick enough, and it paid the rent. And if he happened, on occasion, to find his way into the blood bank… that was just a happy coincidence. He waited a few slow years, then rejoined the club scene to keep himself entertained. Performing was too high-profile, but there was loud music, easy sex, and a steady supply of discreet sips in shadowed corners, the donors too drunk, high, or generally exhilarated to notice. Hell, the ones who did enjoyed it. In a new millennium, Sly watched music changed, fashion, culture, politics, wars, even disease – he nearly went thirsty when AIDS broke out. And he’s still the unobtrusive figure in the back of dark clubs, the silent custodian, the forgettable tenant. Personality: Sly is, in a vacuum, a practical being. He does things efficiently and without maudlin sentiment, goes with the flow. He is quite reasonable and logical. But confronted with even a hint of being coerced or forced, he becomes quite different. Where before he was level-headed, he is impulsive, contrary, quite willing to cut off his nose to spite his face. He will often act not out of personal motivation, but to confound expectations and stress that he is not owned, claimed, or controlled. In a general sense, Sly is quick-witted and conversational, but he is also reserved, shameless, arrogant when necessary, and easily offended. He has come to regard his city as a kingdom, his domain, and has only contempt for any transient mortals who might attempt to challenge him in any context. Suffice to say, his ego has only grown with time. Likes: Punk, metal, and grunge; leather pants, hair gel, studded collars, Mohawks, piercings, tattoos, vintage guitars, German and Italian sports cars, stitches, strangers with very poor memories, Chinatown, street markets, hot tea, motorcycles, nail polish, modern art, bubblegum cigarettes, Hitchcock films, incense, bubbles, brain and heart surgery, yogurt, records, jeans, tourists, cats, crowds, scars, libraries Dislikes: Alternative rock, hippies, neighbors, scrubs, mops and brooms, the terminally ill, doctors, jazz, drugs, cemeteries, butterflies, teenyboppers, public transportation, street lamps, airplanes, large bodies of water, heights, Mexican food, construction workers, gum stuck under tables, chain stores, MTV, summer, dogs, cab drivers, Impressionist paintings, wool, blow-dryers, “friends” Other: Should really stop disappearing to Vegas on free nights to mock shotgun weddings. Should also stop consorting with a certain disreputable acquaintance from New York, as the smartass is going to get him arrested one of these days. ___________________________________________________________________________ Sly rolled over groggily on his sagging mattress, awakened by the evening scents of hot tea and stir-fried vegetables drifting up into his one-room apartment. He didn’t need to focus his acute hearing to catch the cheery murmurs of building conversation, the clink of plates, of occasional burst of laughter. Idly checking the presence of the key around his neck and the hair tie around his wrist, he stumbled from bed, readjusting his boxers and rubbing away an ache in his neck. Without true thought, he pulled on a frayed pair of jeans and a threadbare hooded sweatshirt, proceeding to shuffle his way to the first floor. Sly was stopped at the foot of the peeling stair by a very irate Chinese woman. Which would not have bothered him overmuch had that same tiny female not been his landlord’s wife. In broken, exasperated Mandarin, he assured her that he would be getting his paycheck this weekend, the same as the month before, and the month before that. It always seemed, however, as though Mrs. Wong believed that by glaring at him fiercely enough, she could will the cash into his pocket (and therefore hers) well before payday. The amused occupants of the cramped restaurant looked on, familiar fingers utilizing their chopsticks in the pursuit of dumplings and rice without even looking downward, eyes trained instead on the harried tenant who had so often entertained them before with his placating responses to Mrs. Wong’s wooden-spoon-wielding wrath. Slipping past the gesticulating madam and hoping that her sharp-eyed husband would not catch him as well, Sly escaped through the front door. In the falling twilight, the neon of the restaurant’s sign bathed him in fluorescent color. He knew the route from Chinatown to the nearby hospital so well that his feet carried him there without direction, freeing his mind to return to semi-consciousness. In much the same fashion, he found the side entrance, the custodial locker room, his patina-adorned lock. Then off went the clothes, on came the uniform. His hair was securely tied at the base of his neck, a few non-regulation strands falling into his face. It was a peculiar power, he mused. While stares occasional found themselves drawn in his direction, they never quite held him – his own unintentional magnetism was negated by the invisibility of the lower class worker. When the hall he was currently mopping fell empty, he paused, leaning comfortably on the wooden handle. It allowed him to pause and truly inhale. Beneath the smell of antiseptic and decay, he could trace the odor of blood seeping through a tourniquet, of stitches torn loose, of an open gunshot wound in the ER. Almost an appetizer. And yet he left after midnight unfed, unsure as to why he had not sought out his evening drink. Hunger twisted in his intestines, and yet the idea of sustenance was oddly abhorrent. Pushing such ponderings from his mind, he managed to sneak up the fire escape, thereby avoiding Mrs. Wong, and change into his real evening wear. Once satisfied that his leather pants were indecently snug and thin tank (the term wife-beater had always annoyed him, if only for its implications) pulled over his lean torso, his Doc Martens well-laced, he roamed the streets again, this time alert. Any number of locales was available for the evening; the only thing left was to choose one in particular. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Name: Erik Race: Vampire Age: 400+ Bio: Erik is a stubborn and proud individual, and one who likes his comforts. He’s a creature of touch and sensuality – deriving pleasure from the smallest things. He is an extremely dominant personality, and is a bit of a sadist. He likes handcuffs and collars to adorn his pretty pets with. He also has mild telepathic abilities. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Erik peered at himself in the wavy glass mirror one last time, checking to make certain that his appearance was satisfactory. His long black and blonde hair stuck out around his head in long, spiked out clumps, giving him the effect of wearing an off-color and angry halo around his face. His intense brown eyes were ringed with khol and his mascara had been applied with an abnormally heavy hand. His mouth was slicked with black lipstick, giving his already pale skin an almost ghostly pallor. His long, lanky body was clothed entirely in black - a tight, form fitting tee-shirt that showed off his muscular chest and arms; tight black jeans that hugged his hips and clung to his heavy thighs; and hard, black, steel-toed boots adorned his feet to complete the outfit. Perhaps it was cliche, but it was the look and style that he preferred. Hey. At least he wasn't wearing a tux. Giving a disparaging sigh and curling his upper lip in a silent snarl, he looked around the dinky apartment that he'd rented for a mere pittance. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to sell his large, rambling house and move into something far smaller. He'd gotten tired of being alone all the time in such a big house, and had decided to rent an apartment. At last way, he might still live alone, but he wouldn't be alone in the building. Now, though, gazing around at the place, he thought he might have gone temporarily insane. The thought depressed him slightly. And there was only one thing to do when he got depressed. Thus, he was dressed in his best evening gear, and, with one last pitiful glance inside his dismal apartment, Erik closed the door and headed off down the hallway. He simply brushed past the chattering woman who was after him about his rent, ignoring her screeching as he descended the stairs. He'd only just moved in, for heaven's sake, and he'd already paid for three months rent in advance. He wasn't about to listen to her whining any longer than he absolutely had to. Shaking his head and sending his wild hair to swaying, he stepped out of the building and headed off to begin his night. Perhaps he'd meet someone new... someone who could hold his interest for longer than a single evening this time. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A long line, wrapping halfway around the narrow block, caught Sly’s eye. Such lines were a common occurrence in the neon-infested rainbow district, but their catalysts were rarely worth the effort. More often than not, it was the -idea- of being trendy and exclusive that caused a club to become so, rather than true merit. But, refreshingly, Sly did not hear remixed eighties pop tunes filtering past the open door. It was a scream, perfectly pitched and raw, twisting in and out of agile, violent guitar and throbbing base. Sly paused and reevaluated the tableau anew. The club was likely the only representation of metal, Goth, or any kind of hard rock in the gay hotspot – once the novelty wore off, and all the shimmering, vain fairies waiting in line tonight grew bored, it would be unable to support itself. Best, then, to enjoy it while he could. He walked directly parallel to the impatient “waiting area,” his mouth quirking upward at every set of rolled eyes, every hiss of laughter, every murmur at his stupidity that he caught wafting on the still evening air. The petite, tattooed young man standing smugly beside the massive bouncer, clipboard clasped in one artfully ornamented hand, was an easy mark. Sly paused, gave him the slow head-to-foot-and-back gaze that, when properly applied, was as efficient as a blowjob. The kid preened and murmured something low that he likely meant to be sultry. Sly didn’t bother listening – just inclined his head smoothly and brushed past them all. “Mori,” as it was called, was even better inside. Industrial, packed with writhing bodies that created a steam of raw heat. Walking in was like a sudden orgasm – a wall of flesh and throbbing blood crashed into him, then subsided into a luxurious sensation of taste and smell and warmth, the richness of the air pooling on his tongue. Better yet, he could keenly hear other, more broken sounds under the shrieking decadence of the music. It was like Christmas, like free candy – he followed the path as if it were lit, found the entrance of the small, humid room tucked behind a pillar. Turning back, he allowed his eyes to scan the pulsing crowd. Thankfully, there were many other predators out, albeit of a different sort. Within a few moments he hooked a mature man (didn’t they always taste richer?) nude above the waist, carefully cultivated musculature bared and gleaming. He was vain enough, self-assured enough in his prime, not to glance around to verify that he and no one else was the object of Sly’s roaming eye. Just as well. It saved time. As the kindly gent approached (a top, most likely, but he was well beyond caring) Sly allowed himself to appraise him, for the moment, as a sexual partner rather than food. He had never quite been able to discern the point at which sex had become his second priority – as a member of the human race, it would have been impossible for him to conceive of. Food was good, but it was always “chocolate is as good as sex,” not “sex is as good as chocolate.” Donor Number One of the evening was tall and exceptionally well-formed, a powerful build topped by a sculpted, feral face and thick dark hair, its exact shade indistinguishable in the dim lighting. He smelled clean – both sober and disease-free. Sly turned and ducked into the shadows, relishing the heat of the body behind him. He was eager but secure enough for a measure of patience, allowing Sly to practice a well-tried maneuver. He kissed him fiercely, then moved to his jaw, and by the time he was sipping from over… - he would call the Donor “John,” he decided, prostitution in reverse – -John’s- collarbone, the practiced ministrations of his hand on –John’s- dick had him suitably distracted. The only real surprise of the evening, aside from the discovery of Mori itself, was when dear John stilled Sly’s pumping fist, catching his earlobe between bleached white teeth that still carried the faint scent of nicotine. When he cupped Sly’s groin, understanding was instantaneous – and Sly found himself benevolently amused. John didn’t want to be selfish. It was almost laughable, almost adorable. In answer – talking over the music was a futile effort – Sly hooked one leg over John’s lean hip and ground their arousals together roughly. The fellow was efficient, utilizing his leather belt to knot Sly’s wrists well above his head against a bar set into the wall, most likely provided for just such a purpose. He let John roll a condom over his weeping erection, let him feel responsible, but pressed a knee against his hip when he moved to stretch Sly with his fingers. He offered a thin, masochistic quirk of the lips when confusion spread over his flushed face. This was, however, a little too precise to communicate effectively in gesture. Mirroring John’s earlier gesture, he caught his fleshy lobe between his teeth like candy, then proceeded to project his voice, low and clear, into the winding shell of his ear. “Do make it hurt.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Erik had gone to the clubs that he was familiar with first, the more ritzy and fashionable places that pandered to his usual taste of petite, pretty boys. The blood from these was sweeter than most, bolstered by a decadent lifestyle and the sweetest wine money could buy. They turned their well-bred noses up at first when Erik walked by, pretending as though they weren't interested in his kind. He knew better. They were all the same, and pretty soon, one of them would come crawling over, wanting to see how bad Erik truly was. They wanted the danger and the thrill of excitement they could sense around him, tired of their boring, sad little lives and so certain that this wild male could rescue them from their dull existances. Well, of course he could. But he never chose to. Not for more than a single night, anyway. As soon as his interest waned, and the desires of both his body and his blood had been sated, they became useless. Whimpering, sniveling, weak creatures that would beg him to stay; addicted to the feeling of being so close to something so deadly without truly knowing the danger they were in. The simple truth was, Erik was bored with it. He was tired of the pretty boys who were too eager to please; he was tired of the played out clubs that catered to the same groups over and over again; and mostly, he was tired of himself. He needed something new tonight. And so, based on the advice he'd gleaned thanks to his supernatural hearing, he decided to give this new goth club a try. "Mori," as he'd heard it, was quite exclusive, even if it did pander to goths and metal-heads. Best then, to make certain he had an in. Erik stood outside the club for a few moments, scanning those who stood in line, those who passed the entrance, and the bouncer and skinny kid who stood at the door. Shaking his head, he walked forward, already focusing on the younger of two. Eye contact was made, Erik offered a naughty grin and a sultry wink, and the door was opened before him, granting him admittance. The people on the dance floors held no interest for him... no, what he wanted lay closer to the back, in the sweaty, panting couples and obscene sounds he could already hear filtering through the heavy beat of the bass. And the smells... ah. Erik inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of sweat, and sex, and... blood? Immediately, his senses focused on the rival vampire in the building, and, like a bloodhound, he began to scent out his prey, amused when he arrived in time to hear the husky demand to "make it hurt." Leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his muscled chest, the German immortal simply watched the display, his intense brown gaze locked on the eyes of the man who was tied to the bar on the wall. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Sly began to count the indistinct tiles of the ceiling above his head. When that failed, he angled his neck to better observe the occupied males further down the dark corridor, wondering how long it would take, exactly, to find a satisfactory replacement. Because "John" either had a very limited understanding of pain - had he encountered so little of it, himself? - or thought that the slim, angular male into whom he was thrusting was too delicate for such abuse. But even human, Sly thought mockingly, it would have only barely qualified as rough sex; as an immortal, it was downright tedious. He emitted a few exaggerated, flat groans before ducking back to focus on the still-bleeding column of muscle, finding a small pool of crimson in the hollow of one collarbone as if a gift laid out for his pleasure. It was not until the john bowed his head, on the cusp of release, that beyond his shoulder Sly was able to see the wild-haired male; fully clothed and composed, solitary, and watching him. Watching without shame, furthermore - if nothing else, the blazing gold of Sly's eyes tended to intimidate, but the dark-clad figure showed no discomfort resulting from either Sly himself or the obscene juxtaposition in which he was currently engaged. He was momentarily distracted as the large male finished, ignoring the john's embarrassment over the unreleased hardness against Sly's stomach with a careless shrug and a roll of the eyes. It was sufficient dismissal for the offended partner, who jerked away his belt and nodded curtly without even offering the empty pleasantry of exchanged numbers and insincere offers to stay in touch. Sly found himself laughing, but the sharp sound was swallowed by the pounding music. Smoothly shrugging the leather back over his hips, he eyed the bulge – but the tedious intercourse had been enough to lower any sexual excitement to half-mast, and such a physical display would hardly cause any stares in here. It was with faint surprise and growing suspicion that he returned to the unblinking brown eyes still on him, his own beginning to narrow. The man was attractive, but too… The right words for his growing sense of unease failed him. But the staring was growing ever more irritating, and that irritation took hold. It was the work of a few long strides to reach the opposite side of the corridor, one hand at the end of an outstretched arm bracing him against the wall beside the dark-haired male’s head. Condescension was good, he reminded himself. Condescension was delicious. “Is there something you needed to say to me, or are you just wasting time here?” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Erik noted with amusement the way the bound male seemed to quickly lose interest in his partner, even though the bigger man was still pounding into the body beneath him as though it was the last thing he might ever do. Well, with two vampires so close to him, it might very well be the last thing he ever did. Erik certainly hoped he enjoyed himself, although it didn't look as though his partner was enjoying the current activities. His lip raised in a wry sort of smirk when the human was pushed away with barely more than a nod, the scent of blood and sex still clinging to him heavily enough to cause Erik's sensitive nostrils to flare as the man hastily fled the dark area and blended back into the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. Erik, too, noted the unrelieved hardness in the other vampire's trousers, and felt a moment of pity for the other male. It was short lived, though, as he'd obviously gotten what he wanted, considering the scent of the blood that lingered on his breath as he leaned on the wall by Erik's head. With a feral grin that showed off a hint of his lethal fangs, he reached out and gripped the other vampire's face almost brutally, his thumb and forefinger grasping the slightly pointed chin and preventing him from moving away. Leaning forward, his breath whispering over the other male's lips as he spoke, Erik purred, "First off, pet, you should be more careful where you dine." To demonstrate, he leaned forward and lewdly licked a drop of blood away that lingered at the corner of the other's mouth. Pulling away, his intense brown eyes hooded and cruel looking, he snarled, "And secondly, you should watch whom you speak to in such a way, else you'll discover the true meaning of pain at the hands of a master sadist." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ he illicit corridor was shoved into a far corner of the dark club, and yet it felt as though the whole complex - the whole universe, even - was centered on the single spot in which Sly stood. And why not? Two vampires merely a breath apart, when the only other immortal Sly had encountered in nearly two decades was the one who had made him. He had never truly assumed that he was alone, but had thought... Had thought, on some abstract level, that such an encounter would be formal, ceremonial, some dramatic tableau. Instead, it was a humid alcove which reeked of sweat and sex, and now coppery blood. The threat was instantaneous, and Sly could practically *feel* hackles which he did not possess rising in agitation. The same strength which allowed him to mangle car doors at will was in the authoritative grip which pinned his jaw. And it *hurt*. Properly, deliciously so. It disturbed him. He had grown accustomed to seeking rougher fare, because it was certainly more interesting than average mortal practice, but with any partner, no matter the circumstances, control remained entirely his. Yet he found he wanted to do nothing so much as surrender to the promise in the iron grip and cruel eyes. Then there was that mocking tongue, sexual and invasive, that - *pet*?- Disturbed swiftly bled into enraged. Because beneath the protective shell of irritation and baited pride was longing, urges roiling deep in his gut which had gone unsatisfied for so *long* - he managed not to shiver at the thought. It was a weakness he could not afford. With any human he held the safety of superiority, but an equal, as he grudgingly acknowledged the other vampire to be... an equal could destroy him. Maybe. Desire, heedless of reason, whispered alluringly in his ear. It was a vast, sprawling city. If he had gone two decades undisturbed, how difficult could it be to evade the other afterward? There was no reason to think he would ever see the dark one again, so his pride could not suffer too greatly. One night, one taste - like any addiction, want slowly eroded rationality. Funny math, indeed. Indecision still gnawed at him, torn between preserving self and safety and finally... fuck, *feeling* again, the shuddering, sweet electricity of pain. He stepped away, allowing himself room to breathe, to consider. "I assume you know how to play hide-and-seek?" With some effort, he kept the foxlike cunning in his voice, the mocking grin turning the corners of his mouth upward. "Count to ten," he shouted over the beat, stepping away. *And try to catch me*, he mouthed, throwing himself into the dark, seething mass of bodies. Darting in and out of the slimmest gaps, he wove a tangled path through the crowd, spreading his scent as chaotically as possible. Finally he ducked behind a broad pillar at the opposite end of the floor, relieved to find that the narrow corner between column and wall was empty and dim. What worried him was the twitch in his gut, the hope that he had not evaded too well. It galled him - the nagging, unarticulated urge for the the other to find him, goddamn it, *find* him. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The response surprised a chuckle out of Erik, and he let the other go before he'd meant to. He'd expected anger, certainly, and a certain measure of self-righteous indignation of course. But playfulness? With calculating eyes, he watched his prey dart off into the shadows, and decided that this needed to be pursued. Each flutter of the other vampire's pulse was like a towline, tugging at Erik's senses and betraying exactly where he'd gone. Still, the chase was part of the fun, and he gave the other time to escape, choosing instead to simply stalk forward slowly. It lent a heightened awareness to the whole affair, and Erik gave a feral grin as he spotted the dense pillar behind which his prey had darted. He could practically smell the apprehension oozing from the other's skin, his accelerated heart beat pricking at the immortal's ears like a faulty metronome. From the moment the unnamed vampire had darted away in an attempt to hide, all other living beings had ceased to exist for Erik - his world dwindled down to this; the prey, the chase, and ultimately, the catch. And there would be a catch. The German was too old and too skilled to lose to someone who smelled no older than a few decades. On silent feet, he approached the pillar, his brown eyes alight with the excitement of his catch, and, coming up behind the pillar to lean over the other male's shoulder, his breath just brushing over the other's neck, he murmured, "I win." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ There was no way to determine the passage of time. Even the beat of the music was drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears, and Sly grew almost dizzy with restless anticipation, like holding one's breath the moment before the roller coaster comes crashing down, every sense straining for the faintest stimulus. He didn't know if what passed were seconds that felt like hours or hours that felt like minutes. And that straining was rewarded not by a hint or subtle observation, but warm breath gusting humid and invasively sensual over the back of the neck. Even as every muscle seemed to pick itself up off his bones and shudder with hedonistic delight, traitorous gluttons for sensation that they were, he was jerking away, spine slamming against stone in the narrow passage. It was *very* thin; useful for hiding, but not for escape. If he wanted to escape. The whisperings in his mind were becoming ever more beguiling and persuasive. Just... something. One solitary lapse, please, one drink for the Sisyphus before his punishment continues for another eternity. One taste, one touch. Languidly he leaned against the wall, every ounce of arrogance and preening hard-won under the combined onslaught of his mind and senses, conspiring against him as they were. The quick grin, somewhere between feline and fox and charming wolf. He tilted his head back, baring his neck defiantly, mockingly, as if there was no vulnerability in being half-nude and fully-aroused, trapped. "You were saying something about being a," he cursed inwardly, feeling even as the phrase took shape in his mind that it was with hunger, not scorn, " 'master sadist'? Was that it? You startle people. Oh, my," he drawled. "I'm just quaking with fear. Is that all? What next - you'll steal my lunch money?" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The reaction drew a wry grin onto Erik's lush mouth, and he came forward, despite the taunting words of the other, younger, vampire. Relishing his victory, the wild-haired male inhaled, savoring the rush of anticipation that poured off of the other. Moving forward minutely, using his well muscled body to crowd the amber-eyed male, Erik lowered his head and peered out through a fringe of heavy, dark lashes - a sultry, flirting sort of expression on anyone else, on Erik it became something sinister, though no less sexy because of it. Like quickly striking snakes, his hands shot out and captured the younger vampire's wrists, effectively pinning him to the wall. His body followed suit and, forcing a knee between his quarry's thighs, he roughly ground that well-muscled leg against the erection that still stretched out the front of the other male's leather trousers. Lowering his face to the crook of that fragrant neck, Erik's tongue traced a damp, sensual path up the long column of his prey's throat, only to nip sharply at his earlobe in a taunting imitation of the earlier actions with his first catch of the evening. Rather than speaking, his sharp fangs worried at the delicate bit of flesh, and he spoke with his mind instead. "Are you always this poor of a loser?" Erik's mental voice was every bit as husky as his physical voice, although slightly more smooth due to the nicotine and alcohol that regularly abused the vampire's vocal chords. His words were mocking in tone, taunting and goading in a deliberate attempt to rile his prey. "Does it bother you that I don't need my belt to restrain you?" came the purred question in Sly's mind. "Or is it the simple fact that you know I can give you what your little fucktoy couldn't?" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ As if floodwaters bursting beyond a straining dam, the more primal part of Sly's mind, vying for dominance, overcame rational thought as the predatory male advanced. What was left was most primal and powerful, that which gloried as cunning, threatening eyes peered up at him through dark lashes lowered in some parody of modesty. Then hands caught his wrists and fuck but he knew that he was truly restrained, god, finally - and an aggressive leg ground harshly against his neglected erection through the leather, the sudden assault forcing a low sound - half snarl, half desperate keen - from Sly's throat. By the time that tongue tasted his neck, he was panting, eyes narrowed as he fought to repress his body's reactions. It took a moment too long to realize he was being addressed not by the mouth distracting him with sharp, electric nips at his earlobe; to complete the invasion, that sultry bedroom voice was projected directly into his spinning mind. Does it bother you that I don't need my belt to restrain you? He gave his arms an experimental, savage jerk, and the hands pinning them did not so much as twitch - the grip was steel, stronger than steel, and he was truly captive. A shudder not of fear wracked him at the realization, and he bit deeply into his own lip, trying to distract himself with the tang of metallic blood on his tongue. Bother? It was exquisite. Or is it the simple fact that you know I can give you what your little fucktoy couldn't? As if the words were playing the strings of his body, the purring, violating words caused his hips to jerk reflexively, grinding against the hard muscle and wringing another, bone-rattling shudder from his strained nerves. He could fight and he could argue and he could deny it all but he was an addict and his drug was in his hands, close enough to taste, so-fucking-close - His lips rolled back, baring his teeth in a feral snarl. Once. Just once, and he could forget it in the morning and still the itching need beneath his skin, one anonymous dose and never again this allowed vulnerability. Or so he told himself, at least, as glazed amber eyes met too-clear brown. All pride was gone, for the moment, just strained desperation. "If you can, then fucking do - just hurt me." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Ah... the anticipation... the exhilaration... the fear... Erik could practically hear the other's thoughts as he fought with himself over whether or not to give in, and a sudden realization dawned on him. This fledgling vampire craved the pain as a meth addict craved his drug... and yet, he fought it as well, not wanting to give up his control. With a wicked smirk, Erik bit down cruelly on the other's neck, his leg thrust up brutally hard into the other's groin, his hands holding his prey captive as easily as a man holding a child. Still, he'd need at least one hand for this, so he simply raised both of the amber-eyed male's arms above his head and pinned them there in one fist, his grip like iron and even less flexible. He'd likely leave bruises on the other's flesh that wouldn't heal as fast as his vampiric regenerative abilities would normally allow. The thought made him smile wickedly as he licked away the trail of blood that dripped down the youth's neck from his vicious bite. Using his free hand, Erik made short work of the leather trousers that encased the other's length, his long fingers shredding through the material without a thought as to what he'd wear home. As far as he was concerned, that wasn't his problem. The fledgling had asked for it to hurt, and Erik intended to fulfill that request to the best of his abilities. There would be nothing to ease the way; no stretching of his muscles; no nothing... simply a brutally hard and fast coupling. Once Sly's erection was freed from it's confines, Erik turned his attention to his own groin and only opened the fly of his pants enough to fish out the stiff column of flesh that had, for the past few minutes, been throbbing painfully against the seam of his jeans. Easily, he lifted the younger vampire by his captured hands and used his own free hand to line himself up with Sly's entrance. With no warning, he again slid his fangs into the fledgling's neck, simultaneously dropping him down on Erik's turgid arousal, fully impaling him on the elder vampire's impressive erection. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Fangs tore into the ever-sensitive skin of his neck, cruel and sharp and sudden, and Sly was lost. In an inarticulate haze of want and sensation, he bucked and writhed just to feel the steel of the hand grinding the bones of his wrists together, the unyeilding hardness of the leg between his thighs. It bled together into perfection, exquisite - the freeing of his length, heedless of the real world and its expectations lying just beyond the shadowed corner, the insistent press against his entrance; no permission asked, because wouldn't that just ruin it? In some distant, detached part of his mind, he both thanked and loathed the disappointing john who had already begun to fade from his memory. It was doubtless because of their backroom activities that he had encountered the elder who promised such sweet, welcome agony - but if the idiot had been content with recieving a handjob, the experience now - one which could not be repeated under better cirumstances - he would have been able to wring as much excruciating sensation as possible from the sudden entry. Even slightly stretched as he still was, he could feel flesh tearing, but it could have been even more - ah. The vast majority of his consciousness, however, was in the white spasms of pain shooting up his spine as he was impaled. The need for pretense was gone, allowing him to snarl, and (not mewl, certainly nothing so undignified as that, but what other word to use for the sound?) freely, contorting, head slamming so hard against the stone that he felt blood trickling down. His long legs, shaking with the delicious strain, wrapped around the elder's ribcage, feet tucking into the muscled small of his back and pushing, urging the continuation of such brutal ministrations. It felt as though he were being ripped apart by the merciless, invasive hardness. Decades of strained dissatisfaction found a howling outlet, begging greedily for more and more and more, his hands clenching so tightly with the need that deep gashes sent thick rivulets tricking down his bound arms. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Ah... the taste of submission, however reluctantly it was given, was sweet on Erik's tongue, making the fledgling's blood more potent than the richest wine as it coursed down his eager throat. The thrashing against his aroused body only served to inflame him even further, driving him deeper within the male that he currently had pinned to the wall. Oh, it was bliss... this forceful taking... his entire being cried out for him to tear into the body beneath him; pound him into a whining, mewling acceptance; and then make him crawl back for more. Erik's very nature demanded that he take every unwilling moan and gasp of painful pleasure and turn it back on the other male tenfold - make him scream with the force of it. Disengaging his fangs from the delicious neck and licking away the tasty treat that still flowed sluggishly from the fresh puncture wounds, the elder increased his pace, seemingly determined to drive Sly right through the wall that he was braced against. The feet digging into his lower back only pushed him higher, harder, and faster, and, growling into the pinned vampire's mind, he released Sly's hands. "Grip the wall if you must, but do not move your arms." Roughly, Erik slid his hands down his captive's lithely muscled torso before curling his long, elegant fingers around jutting hipbones in a brutal grip, lifting the smaller up and slamming him back down again viciously, driving himself forward and feeling the flesh tear and bleed under his cruel onslaught. Pulling his face away, his intense brown gaze rested on Sly's flushed, sweaty face, almost disturbingly calm in spite of their activities. In a near purr, his voice as feral as his eyes, he spoke again in the fledgling's mind. "I wonder... will you scream for me...?" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ There was the burn, the sharpness of breaking skin and tearing flesh, all of it overpowering his starved senses like a decadent feast after so very many years of fasting. And it grew sweeter, more excruciating, a deeper penetration that threatened to shatter him, break him irreperably. The small of his back slammed against the stone with every animalistic thrust, and his spine screeched its protest, causing him to arch further into the exquisite invasion. His neck throbbed sluggishly, and god but there was blood everywhere, the coppery tang overpowering, another erotic layer to what was already the most sublime intercourse of Sly's unnaturally lengthened life. Grip the wall if you must, but do not move your arms. The command... The words alone, rough and domineering, sent a spasm through Sly's already aching member. The pain, and the submission as well - the ripping away of pride and control, the absolute domination, was the perfect accompaniment to the bloody symphony the elder was coaxing from his all-too willing body. Another, and how could he possibly be going any deeper, any harder, but he was, and Sly felt his fingers digging into the indentation between cement blocks, nails cracking as his clenching fingers ground the mortar into a fine powder which dusted his hair and his rigid shoulders gleaming with sweat and blood. An erratic series of keening and gasps escaped him, building into a mantra. It was perfect, reverberating through every nerve and cell, this trembling ecstasy which settled in his mind to a delirious haze of gluttony, when he met brown eyes that threatening to devour him. I wonder... will you scream for me...? Even as he registered the question and fed it to the adrenaline pumping through him, and to his ragged pulse, his body knew the answer well. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The fine coating of dust that tried to settle over their sticky, writhing bodies didn't have much of a chance to stay put - not with the way Erik was so viciously pounding into the unknown vampire beneath him. He gave a few more rough, invasive thrusts with his hips, cruelly ignoring the weeping erection of his captive, before he slowed down and nearly pulled himself out entirely. With a wicked smirk on his finely chiseled lips, the elder released one of Sly's hips and reached around to his own back pocket. He pulled out a pack of piercing needles and a small-gauged silver ring and held them up for the amber-eyed male to see. Slowly pumping his hips forward, he slid back into the waiting warmth as he chose one of the needles and inspected it closely. Deciding that it would do nicely, he gave only a quick warning, "Something to remember me by...." before he shoved the wickedly sharp instrument through the other male's right nipple and quickly threaded the silver ring through the fresh hole. Pulling away to admire his handiwork, he slipped the pack of needles back into his pocket and leaned down to lick away the few drops of blood that had escaped from the sudden piercing. Grinning once more, he chose a spot just to the left of the fresh adornment, and bit down into the flesh savagely, simultaneously picking Sly up only to slam him back down on the elder's waiting arousal. Roughly, he closed one long-fingered, elegant hand around the fledgling's bobbing length, his grip nearly cruel as he pumped the column of flesh in time with his vicious thrusts. He was bent nearly in half as he leaned over to lick away the blood from his bite-mark, but he straightened up and darted in to capture Sly's lower lip delicately between his sharp, lethal fangs. Giving a quick nip to the delicate skin of his mouth, Erik immediately turned the kiss into something that was as savage and brutal as their intercourse. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ So dazed was Sly, body protesting in screaming tones at the sudden lack of penetration, that his mind was only barely able to identify the gleaming utensil as it was held before his eyes; certainly not grasp its purpose. And the return of that incredible length, sliding home inside him, was effectively blinding as his eyes fluttered shut and he rocked helplessly against it. A sudden sharp, stinging pain in his nipple brought a shout from him as his body jerked reflexively, forcing a startled shout from his throat. He glanced downward in time to catch a dark head ducking to lick away the blood, and - fuck - teeth sank savagely, brutally into his flesh, and he did scream, even as his hips snapped and betrayed his pleasure. Another cruel entry, and a sudden onslaught of sensation to his neglected member, carrying his scream into a string of desperate, inarticulate sounds. Blood pounded and his nerves seemed to hum with electricity, warning him that climax was not immediately imminent, but approaching. He keened and pushed, as if to drag every millimeter of Erik into his body and keep him there permanently, until that wonderfully cruel mouth swallowed his sounds, the delicacy giving way to brutality. Sly opened his mouth as widely as possible against the onslaught, as if to mimic the receptiveness of his body, wanton moans continuing as he writhed and squirmed in the delicious, tortuous embrace. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Ah... there it was... the scream that Erik longed for. He relished it and savored each change in pitch, grinning when the sound finally died away into whimpers and moans that sent shivers shooting over his spine. There was no sound as sexy as another man begging for more... moaning to be taken harder... screaming because it hurt but unable to deny the pleasure that the pain caused... It was delicious, and the sadistic elder reveled in it. He kept his mouth fused with with the fledgling's, using his teeth cruelly on the tender skin of the other male's lips and tongue, even as his hardness slid slickly in and out of him, the passage made a bit easier by the blood that covered them both. The friction against his overly-sensitive flesh was exquisite, a sort of torture in itself; an exercise in stamina to see how long he could hold out against the beautiful sounds that drifted past his ears and the spasming channel he was still ramming himself brutally into. He could feel the small silver ring that he'd just pierced through that nipple rubbing against his chest, and Erik pressed even closer - if that was possible - just to agitate the tender, abused bud. "Perhaps, if you're a good pet, I'll give you a matching ring the next time I happen to see you..." His mental voice was taunting, betraying none of the strain that he felt from their vigorous activities, the sound as fluid and smoky as ever. His hand on the younger vampire's rigid arousal stilled and gripped brutally at the base, cutting off any hope of orgasm. "You've screamed for me... will you beg me now?" He pulled away from the other's bloody lips and ran his wicked tongue up the side of the fledglings neck, feeling the corded muscles beneath the svelte skin. "Beg me to let you come..." |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Gray | May 18 2010, 06:46 PM Post #2 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Kano: Even as his breath built to a broken, ragged string, Sly felt the dizzying pressure of orgasm pulsing low in his groin - only to be cruelly cut off with the grip of long iron fingers. The fledgling’s gold eyes snapped open in shock, the force of their glow bringing faint light to the narrow alcove. A violent shudder wracked his entire frame with the force of denied climax. The authoritative taunt was clear in his mind even as the lewd tongue tracing his neck made him bite his lip – odd that such a superficial act could arouse him even further given the throbbing length already buried inside his bruised and bleeding channel. "You've screamed for me... will you beg me now? …Beg me to let you come..." His abused nipple throbbed painfully, as though mocking the very idea of his free will. More than anything, Sly knew that he wanted to let the feral German master him, bend and break and humiliate him even as he generously offered more of the intoxicating pain Sly so craved. And because he knew this, his pride rebelled, his ego as fierce as though he were not pinned to a wall and allowing himself to be wantonly ravaged and dominated by a stranger. The elegant line of his neck titled away from Erik’s ministrations with mocking nonchalance. He held his imprisoned body in so sultry a manner as if to proclaim awareness of his own desirability, daring the elder vampire to deny the lust that the fledgling inspired, the hunger which had made the darker chase and ravish him. Molten gold eyes were heavy-lidded to match a thin, taunting smirk playing over the fledgling’s lush mouth. His husky voice was not perhaps as steady as he would have preferred, but he ignored the betrayal of his need. “Shouldn’t you be begging me to let you keep going?” he drawled as though he held any semblance of power. His scorching gaze moved languidly over the German’s sweat-slick frame to where his throbbing member remained buried inside his own body. Sly felt his trapped cock jerk helplessly at the erotic sight, and he prayed that the other would not notice. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, after all. How about this - ask me nice and pretty and I'll let you make me come.” Gray: The denial of his demand had Erik grinning into the silky flesh of Sly's neck, his pleasure increased tenfold upon the discovery that this was not just a pretty body to be used, but one with a mind of his own who would demand things in return. Still, there was a lesson to be learned here, and the elder vampire held himself very sternly in the role of teacher in this case. Roughly, he slammed his hands against the fledgling's shoulders and pinned him to the wall, his grip brutal and bruising. With Sly pinned there, he didn't have much of a choice but to accept what Erik did to his body - and, as punishment for the cheeky demands, the elder slowed his thrusts and nearly pulled himself completely out of Sly's writhing body, leaving the tip of swollen flesh embedded within the other immortal. Snarling, his face a threatening few inches from Sly's, he demanded, "Are you certain you want to go there with me?" To emphasize his point, he ceased all movement of his hips and immediately felt bereft when the beautiful friction ceased. Still, he wanted to make his point, and ruthlessly held himself still until he got an answer. Kano: Sly's body hated him very, very much. In fact, he was fairly certain that if his body could overcome its loathing enough to actually speak to him, he would be addressed with a string of violent, venomous curses in response to his stupidity. The German had called his ill-concieved bluff, and now he was forced to suffer for it. The younger's long frame twisted involuntarily even as the abused muscles of his channel rippled and tensed, desperately seeking to trap the sadist within his body. But the elder pinned him without lenience, his grip stern and punishing. He bit savagely into his own lip to stifle the instinctive pleas which crowded his tongue, all begging Erik to forgive his impudence, to take him and allow his climax. Though he berated his stubborn ego even as the thought formed, he knew that he could not so easily fold, breaking as though his declaration were no more than empty pride. Well, maybe it was, but that was his own concern. He painted the arrogance and nonchalance across the gleaming white of his sneer, flickering his tongue out to dab his bloodied lower lip in a taunting, sultry display of defiance. He preened languidly as though the incensed immortal and all the potential ecstasy he represented were not mere inches away, as though the intense brown gaze boring into his own didn't send electric tremors along his spine and long legs. "Are you certain you want to go there with me?" "Now, I don't know any German beyond ja and sauerkraut, but I'm fairly certain that wasn't begging in any language." As much as he was able when so contained, he rocked his hips against the black-clad male, wondering if he might just be able to bring himself off on friction alone while the other was preoccupied with restraining his shoulders. It would mean surrendering any chance of a plea from the elder, but desperate as he was even stolen frottage was beginning to seem an appealing option. To mask these thoughts he kept his eyes heavy-lidded, voice husky. "It's a little late to pretend you don't want me." Gray: The response only served to amuse Erik further, and his grin was a savage and lethal expression that clearly showed the repressed monster within. Even as brutal as he'd been with Sly, he could be more so... there was so much more that could be had, and it was all laid out in the open in that single, frighteningly direct gaze. "Ja," he taunted. "I want you. But will I beg to have you? Most certainly not. You seem to forget who it is that's in control, pet." The lazy endearment was added to the end of the statement only to inflame and rile his prey in the hopes of obtaining yet more of an argument. Dipping his head forward and simultaneously drawing his hips away to prevent any more frotting or disallowed movement, Erik nibbled and licked at Sly's neck while his mental voice taunted and teased. "Who is it that's pinned to the wall? Which of us is impaled by the cock up his arse? And which of us has the control to stop this, right now, and walk away?" The shivers that raced up his spine from the desperately clenching walls around his aching shaft were studiously ignored, as was the demanding pounding in his head that screamed at him to forget the control and simply take. "After all," he reasoned cruelly, "I can finish with any one of the men in this club... they'd all suit my purposes just fine. They'll beg and scream and moan, though I doubt they'd be as delicious as you, or as hearty. You, however, will be hard pressed to find anyone who can give you what I can. Still... if that's your preference..." Erik stepped back, withdrawing his body completely from Sly's and shuttering those cruel eyes with a blank look of indifference. Without bothering to tuck himself back into his jeans, the elder vampire turned and made his way through the crowd to go back to the little alcove where he'd found Sly. A single look at any given male on the dance floor would have them running to him, and he knew it. What's more, he hoped that Sly knew it. "Perhaps I'll see you again. Pet." Kano: There was another term in his limited German vernacular, one which had seemed unwise to utter in his foolhardy declaration. Bitte. Sly knew how to say "please," and every frayed fiber of his pathetic, tattered self-control was needed to keep from shouting it, screaming it at the retreating figure until his throat ran ragged. Watching the elder walk away - this kismet creature who was everything he needed and wanted and craved, so long denied - was clawing at the edges of his sanity, and so he forced his hungry eyes to close, tilting his head back against the bloodied wall. Every nerve in his needy, oversensitized body shivered for stimulation, and in humiliated desperation he sought the release of his own hand. Nothing. Nothing close to his body's demands that he follow, prostrate himself and plead for the release Erik could give him. "You, however, will be hard pressed to find anyone who can give you what I can." The knowing jeer reverberated through his mind, forcing him to clench his teeth so hard his jaw throbbed with the strain. Release was desperately needed, and with his internal clock telling him he lacked the luxury of wasting time he moved into efficient action. First came clothing. He had to get home for this to work, to allow for more time, and he could hardly make the trip with his cock hanging out. Some crystal twink of roughly his height and dimension was passed out on the bathroom floor, and Sly brusquely stripped him of his jeans (the boy was slightly heavier through the legs, and Sly was grateful for the extra room and concealment that the slacks offered) and discarded the leather which the German had so efficiently shredded with no more than a faint shudder as he was reminded all too directly of where he had been and what had been done to him only moments before. At the thought, he glanced down with a scowl, eyeing the silver ring glinting its ridicule from his bruised chest. Briefly he contemplated tearing it out and allowing the wound to heal, but he found himself strangely resistant to the idea. It would be a warning, he decided; so long as it remained in, he would not forget the evening (as if he could forget) or how pathetic and vulnerable he allowed himself to become, of how indeed he could not give in to even a taste of his addiction. Well, not after tonight, at least. For now... he purposefully avoided the shadowed hall in which he had found... him, though his hungry pulse drew him toward it like a towline. The throbbing in his groin (and every bleeding, abused point which begged for further attention) promised him that he could not refuse the sadistic elder in such close proximity a second time. Finally, he found the only possible subsitute. Lean and radiating intensity, he was exactly the sort of top who others feared to bring home, their instincts for self-preservation warning that he might well strangle them after - or hell, even before. Sly was too strained to play his usual games; he strode up without pretense or coy glances, grabbing the strange male by his belt loops and slamming their hips together, growling into the part startled, part furious face only inches from his own. "I'm going to bring you home with me on the condition that you fuck me like you're going to rip me apart. As hard as you can, or I'll rip your throat out. Got it?" "Keane" was dominant enough to bristle at the command. Good. One large hand closed around Sly's wrist with enough force to fracture that of a human, and the thought made him smile wickedly. The walk to his apartment had never seemed so swift, even with Keane pulling him aside every few minutes to slam against walls and lamp-posts, the long fingers tangling painfully in his hair as welcome as the teeth grinding into his collarbone. Mrs. Wong was already asleep, luckily, because he didn't have the patience to pretend he was doing anything but bringing home a male screw. Finally, finally they slammed home into his mattress, and Sly stripped hurriedly out of his stolen jeans. "I'm not kidding, you know," he said lightly, tone belying the razor-like danger of his grin. "Fuck me like you're trying to kill me, or I will kill you." And he proceeded to do just that. Or close enough, anyway. Sly screwed his eyes shut and bit deeply into his lip, moaning raggedly to cover the uneven breathing above him so unlike that of the cold German who had reduced him to this state. So long as he didn't look, he could be back there, submitting as he wished he had in the narrow hall of Mori. It was not perfect, it could not have been without the other immortal, but desperate as he was it was enough that he could feel climax approaching once more as the human slammed into him brutally, the scent of the vampire's blood rather than the mortal's heavy in the air. His wanton cries swelled to a violent crescendo as if in defiance of Erik's promise that he would remain unfulfilled. Well... perhaps it didn't count when he was just imagining the sadist to bring himself off, but there was no reason to admit to that. And then... Sly froze, staring up in infuriated shock as the human shuddered his completion. His best chance to get off was pulling out and shrugging awkwardly, leaving worlds of ecstasy and pain beyond the vampire's grasping fingers. He hadn't really planned on ripping out the mortal's throat, but in his rage it was a thoughtless reflex. Which left one very hard, very pissy vampire with a body in his bed and blood on his tongue that assauged none of his hunger. |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Gray | May 18 2010, 07:35 PM Post #3 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Gray: Erik ended up doing exactly what he'd said he would. He found numerous males to use for his pleasure, their bodies simply a tool to be used - and not a single one of them found it in themselves to complain about the harsh treatment. He left countless men staggering after him, bloody and bruised, but elated with the force of orgasm that the German had managed to pull from them. He was bloated on the taste of blood and felt heavy and thick with it, and though it was one necessary hunger that had been fulfilled, his body still throbbed for the unknown vampire that he'd nearly had. Snarling as he slammed out of the club, he tossed one anger-filled, dark glance back over his shoulder at the small throng who'd thought briefly of following him to ask for similar treatment and had them scurrying back inside like so many mice - ever afraid of the lurking cat's glance. It amused Erik to think of himself as a cat, though he supposed it was apt enough. No ordinary, trained, house-cat was he, though, but a predator. And his prey had slipped through his fingers earlier in the evening and disappeared in a cloud of self-righteous indignation and anger, leaving the German to curse himself and his damned hotheaded control issues. The anger faded somewhat as he walked, though his eyes still held the glint of cruelty and were shuttered and hooded against the harsh street lamps. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, and though his cock had been well taken care of and he'd managed to achieve a rather pitiful orgasm in the dingy back room of the club, it hadn't appeased the hunger that he still felt. Still snarling as he slammed open the door of his apartment building, he paused just inside as his sensitive ears picked up an intriguing sound. He knew what that meant... the harsh groaning and labored breathing; the cut off screams that were more than likely muffled behind a hard, domineering hand; and the faint squeak of bedsprings and the thud of a headboard against the wall. Erik knew those sounds well, as he was normally the one causing those moans and screams. Someone was - literally - being fucked into the mattress. With a feral grin, he wished whoever it was well, then began to climb the stairs, his thoughts immediately going back to the young vampire he'd met so briefly. When he was about halfway up the stairs, he caught another scent, one that intrigued and infuriated him. It was the smell of blood - and lots of it - and another scent overlying even that. One that he was rather intimately familiar with and that teased the edges of his conscious mind with long, subtle fingers. "The hell with subtlety," Erik thought as he paused just outside the door where all the sounds had been coming from. It was oddly quiet now, the thumps and bumps having stopped, and the harsh breathing had been reduced as well. Leaning his shoulders against the wall, the elder vampire simply paused there for a moment, allowing his own scent to permeate the air around him, and, biting his thumb viciously, he deliberately left a smear of his own blood on the doorframe to signal that, yes, he had been there. Sucking on the injured finger until it healed on it's own, Erik quickly made his way up the stairs and let himself into his own apartment. It would be interesting to see if his calling card was picked up and accepted, or if he'd have to chase the fledgling down once again. Kano: Sly eyed the still-warm body bleeding into his mattress distastefully. Useless for what had been asked of him, the disappointment was now a burden as well, a body which he would have to dispose of quietly before it began to rot. For the briefest of moments, an impulse flashed; perhaps with his own blood he could resuscitate the mortal. If he were vampire kin, then surely he could provide the required pain - Sly slammed his temple viciously against the wall to cut off the thought. Where was his pride, his common sense?! Had one asshole inflamed him enough that he would make an immortal creature just to get off for the evening? Bundling Keane's corpse into the bloodied sheets, Sly stuffed him irritably into the cramped closet. Still nude, he pulled on a pair of baggy black sweats which mercifully both masked his present state and did not irritate the throbbing organ which he was too disgusted and weary to even attempt relieving again by hand. Sweatpants were good. Cozy and asexual, exactly what he needed to get through the coming day before heading out again in the night and... what? Admit his unsatisfied yearning and seek another subsitute? He could not even consider visiting his usual haunts for fear he might even glimpse Erik in the gay district and lose any semblance of will. When he focused, he could feel that iron grip over his wrists, that vicious cock slamming into him as teeth ripped into his skin. He could hear the smoky voice, smell the musk of him amid the blood... Sly's nostrils flared, eyes snapping open in panic. He could smell him, and not from memory. Feeling as though he had been caught in a B-rated horror flick, he moved slowly toward his door, pausing with every creak over the aged floorboards. Swinging the door open sharply on protesting hinges, he found nothing, the hall empty and dim beneath the glow of a bare bulb orbited by moths. Only a fresh, taunting smear of vermillion on his door frame to complement the very male scent permeating the air around him. The German was here, or had been very recently, and a more primitive awareness gripped Sly. The elder was stronger, more powerful, and could likely destroy him if he had a mind to do so. A concern for his life which he had never considered in the dark corners of Mori entered his consciousness, and he snarled spitefully at the empty air. It could not be allowed. Logically, he knew he should get away before he was further noticed, disappear and avoid provoking the anger of one more deadly. The same fury which had seized him in the club found him now. This was his. He had been here for years, and his life worked in a mundane sort of way. Mrs. Wong, for all her fishwiving, showed more maternal concern for his health and well-being than his own mother ever had, and he was used to waking to her lectures. He liked the smell of fried rice and crab rangoon, being close to both the hospital and his clubs, knowing his area like his own skin. And he refused, his very marrow refused, to be forced out by a newcomer who knew nothing of his life. Though it sounded shrill alarms in the back of his skull, he stepped out of the haven of his apartment, stalking down the narrow hall and up the stairs as he followed the taunting scent to another door not unlike his own (though he noted in his irritation that the paint seemed to be in far better repair). Without bothering to knock, he projected his low voice, husky and rigid as it was with rage, directly through the wood to the occupant within. "You're kidding, right? One of the biggest cities on the planet and you live in my building? Get the hell out and go shack up at the Four Swastikas or something." A moment too late, a faint shifting of the air reminded him that he had not bothered to don a shirt, and the fresh piercing was glinting in full view of its maker. With a venomous scowl he crossed his arms loosely over his chest, poorly shielding the source of humiliation. Gray: As soon as he'd entered his apartment, Erik had shed the clothes that still reeked of blood and sex and Sly. He'd gotten into the shower and washed himself with all the vampiric grace and speed that was at his disposal and, when he'd gotten out of the shower, he'd quickly reapplied the makeup that he'd worn at the beginning of the night, though with less heavy of a hand. The khol that rimmed his eyes was still black, though the line was far slimmer and only added a bit of enhancement to his face rather than overpowering black everywhere. He again applied mascara, though he left his lips unslicked and free of any color. His hair he quickly brushed and tamed down into a less noticeable style - his bangs falling forward at an angle to shield and cover his eyes with the rest falling to just below his shoulders in pin-straight layers of black and gold. He donned a pair of low-slung, tight fitting blue jeans and added a black studded leather belt. He left his feet and chest bare, and once he'd turned on his TV and many game consoles, he looked like any teenager or early twenties young man - staying home to play video games. Or at least, he would have looked like it, were it not for the intensely cruel golden brown eyes that he kept artfully shuttered and hooded. The silver stud in his right eyebrow gleamed in the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling in his apartment, and he only just had time to double check his appearance in the mirror before he heard the agitated footsteps coming up the stairs. Quickly, he turned the TV on to blaring and popped in a game - he didn't care which one as he didn't plan on actually playing - and settled down to wait for the other immortal's appearance. It was with an amused grin that he heard the frustrated voice outside his door, and, pasting on a curious expression and making certain to hide the fury and lust that warred in his system, Erik rose from the couch and crossed the room slowly, blinking lazy, seductive eyes when he finally opened the door to view the other vampire's angered countenance. *"Verzeiht mir? Kenne ich Sie?" he asked quietly, gazing at the man who - for all intents and purposes - appeared older than he himself was. Erik knew that wasn't true, but the appearance only lent to his charade, and he wondered how far this vampire would allow it to go before he demanded that they finish what had already been started. [*"I beg your pardon? Do I know you?" Thanks to Kanousei for providing the translation. <3] Kano: Sly blinked rapidly, the quasi-typical image with which he was presented warring with memories of very mature, very inhuman cruelty which he could still feel throbbing resentfully across his body. The polite young man eyeing him warily was nothing but illusion; he knew it in his bones, could still smell the intoxicating musk of him as clearly as when their bodies had been crushed together in the club. But a hopeful suspicion stirred in his gut, knowing the army of masks paraded in Los Angeles. If he really was younger than Sly had assumed, perhaps he was less dangerous as well - perhaps the iron-willed sadist was a role he stepped into for fun, for kicks, but not his true self. Sly latched on to this unlikely suggestion like a raft, ignoring the instincts which told him that the icy cruelty in the other vampire's deadly gaze could not be a performance. It was a relief to his ego and fears even as lower parts of his anatomy cooled in disappointment. Feeling more confident, he crowded Erik in the narrow doorway, his bravado allowing him to forget the embarrassment of the piercing as he braced his arms against the frame. With his predatory grace returned by the seeming shift in power, he leaned forward, invading the elder's space as he hovered with their lips only inches apart, silencing the parts of his mind which pushed him to take advantage of the position. It was the sadist he was remembering and desiring, he reminded himself, not a boy playing dress-up. "I won't pretend to know what you're saying, so let's just cut the shit. You were fucking me in a club called Mori all of an hour ago, and this bewildered innocent act isn't about to fly. Try playing the confused little human card again and I'll turn you into a snack, got it? I'll say it one more time. It's a big city, and you have plenty of room to get your ass out of my neighborhood and move somewhere else." The eyes were the same, no matter how the rest of the package altered, and Sly found himself wavering, growing uncomfortable. If he was as stubborn about this as he had been in the club... A wicked grin, all flashing white teeth, spread across his face. Between one long pianist's finger and thumb he pinched the ring, the brand which had been so tauntingly applied. "But if I'm wrong," he drawled mockingly "hell, maybe I imagined it all. No reason to keep this in, is there?" Though the sore flesh protested, he caught and pulled the metal in such a way that, given his inhuman strength, it stretched and threatened to snap. |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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| Gray | May 18 2010, 08:03 PM Post #4 |
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Braaaaaiiiinssssss~~!
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Gray: Erik nearly grinned at the bravado that suddenly began to radiate from other vampire's body, but that would have ruined his guise and kept his plans from coming to fruition. With wide eyes, he bent his lithe body backwards in what appeared to be a fruitless effort to keep away from Sly, and took a few backwards, stumbling steps into his apartment until he could stand straight once again and was out from beneath the other vampire's heavy shadow. Raising his hands and shrugging in a helpless manner, he said, *"Es tut mir Leid. Ich weiß nicht, was Sie besprechen." He kept his voice quiet and, as much as it irritated him, respectful - as though he recognized someone stronger and smarter than he and automatically deferred to them. All the while the Erik carried out the ruse, he was planning ways to make the fledgling pay for his earlier defiance in the club - and there was no doubt that it would happen. Erik was not a man to let things go unsatisfied, and his system was still craving this particular male. His nerves were jumping, and his skin was prickling with the need to simply slam himself into Sly and brand; take; devour. With wide eyes, he stared down at the ring that was being pulled on so unmercifully, his expression full of teenaged horror and angst. As though he couldn't understand what was happening, he gestured to Sly's slender chest, and asked in halting English, "But... why?" Inwardly, he promised himself that if his brand was, indeed, yanked out with so little thought, he would not only re-pierce the nipple, but he would make the pain last and stretch on endlessly. Such blatant disrespect of his apparent ownership was not to be tolerated, and Erik was eager for the lesson to commence once again. [*I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about.] Kano: The continuation of the ruse pushed Sly just over the edge of his tenuous self-control, and the slender ring shattered in his furious grip. Irritably jerking the remaining shard from his flesh, now bleeding anew, he growled his incoherent frustration. The fledgling stalked into the apartment and kicked the frail door closed behind him, determined that neither of them should leave until they found closure, whatever form it might take. "Stop fucking with me!" he snarled, molten eyes blazing. He chose not to examine himself too closely; the part of him which felt that more of his venom was derived from his ever-growing disappointment than from true anger. The part which saw the loss of his release, decades worth of yearning, swept away as even that for which he had sought subsitutes apparently did not exist. There was nothing for him, and he would simply want forever. But he had not hoped before, had not thought that his denied ecstasy might have been possible, until some boy playing dress-up stalked in and spun his head around, made him so dizzy with want that he hadn't even seen through the mask. Scornfully, he tilted his head to stare at the German. "Do you know, I really thought I had found something tonight. This bastard who could make my body scream and sing and give me everything no one else ever could. I really thought you were this stone-cold sadist, but you're just some kid playing men's games, aren't you? Get out of my town, and find somewhere else to screw around." Gray: Erik ducked his head and flinched when the door to his apartment was slammed closed, and the other vampire yelled at him. His long bangs fell forward to shield his face, and to hide the smirk that danced across his lips when Sly took those final few steps inside and sealed his own glorious condemnation. "At last," he thought giddily, barely able to restrain himself from jumping on the redhead and tearing into him as his instincts were screaming at him to do. This had to be played out properly, with the right amount of attention paid to the details in order to keep things perfectly under his own domineering control where they rightfully belonged. He listened to Sly's ranting tirade with his head bowed as though he were ashamed of himself, and his hands clasped tightly in front of him as though to shield himself from the other's wrath. When the words ceased being flung at him like arrows, Erik finally opened his mouth to speak. "And what makes you think," he began quietly, his English as flawless as it had been at Mori and his voice once again both sultry and husky, "that you have any control over where I live and what I do?" When he raised his gaze, gone was the bewildered teenager who had cowered before Sly and been so polite in halting English. Gone was the fear and trepidation, to be replaced by the cruel mask that he usually preferred. His eyes, no longer shuttered and hidden by his hair, glowed an eerie gold and carried a cunning, threatening glint within their depths. Stepping forward, his hand shot out and wrapped around the fledgling's neck, trapping him there and pinning him with only that single hand and his burning gaze. "You seem to have forgotten, yet again, who it is that's in control. Who has been in control since this whole encounter started." Stepping forward, Erik dragged Sly closer to him and deliberately crowded the other male with his body, leaning into him so that they were chest to chest. "You didn't beg for me at the club when I told you to... but you will. Before the night is over, you'll beg me." The words were as much promise as they were threat, and when his eyes drifted down to the once-torn nipple, now healed thanks to Sly's regenerative capabilities, those golden orbs burned with fury. "You will learn not to treat my brand so lightly..." Kano: The perfect English, low and dangerous, was as effective as being doused in ice water. Any notions he might have harbored about the German seemed as ridiculous as a child's fantasies now. Erik was every inch as lethal as he had been in Mori, and all the more victorious for lulling him into thinking otherwise. It was a major miscalculation on his part, to say the least, a defeat most humiliating. Which was doing nothing to diminish a certain organ springing back to full awareness, the throbbing heat matching the immediate thunder of his pulse and all too evident as the other crushed them together. Somehow, despite all logic, some shred of the pride which had so ruined things for him at Mori remained, forcing him to grin, lazy and foxlike, rather than wrapping his legs around the elder's waist as his body desired. "You seem to have forgotten, yet again, who it is that's in control. Who has been in control since this whole encounter started." "I won't deny your power. It would take a fool to even try. But I do hold some fragment of the power here, and the most crucial one of all. You could just take me, it wouldn't be that hard, but you need me to need you, to beg you and submit, so you can get off properly. And that isn't going to happen, so I suggest you take the fact that we're both ungodly horny and run with it, because it's all you're getting tonight." The fledgling tilted his chin defiantly. "And no more fucking branding. Go find some little twink to be your bitch if that's what you want." ...On a rational level, Sly knew that there were things you simply didn't say to very strong and pissed off people who have you by the throat. Gray: Absolutely delighted by the angry little tirade, Erik threw back his head and laughed, though the sound held no mirth - it was flat and every bit as cruel as the rest of him, and it sounded scratchy as it grated from his throat. "Handing out the rules now, are you?" he asked tauntingly, bringing his face closer to Sly's and closing the vise-like grip of his fingers around the other's throat. "I wouldn't get so cock-sure just yet, if I were you," he taunted. "I don't need you for anything. Want you, most certainly. Desire your body and crave to be buried within you as I was at the club, without a doubt. But need you? Decidedly not." Still keeping his hand closed like steel around Sly's throat, Erik dragged him from the front room and into the bedroom, where he threw the younger vampire down with enough force to send a crack along the length of one side of the metal bedframe. Conversationally, he began to speak again, even as his fingers went to the buttons and snaps on his jeans and belt. "You see, I found the bodies that I needed while I was still at the club. I drank, and I fucked. And that was all I required. You, on the other hand, got lucky enough to find someone who might have been able to replace me and perhaps replicate what I can do to you. But it's quite obvious," Erik gestured toward the hardness that had sprung up again within Sly's pants, "that even he didn't give you what I can." Smirking now, he drew off his belt and enjoyed the quiet sound that it made as it swished over the denim of his jeans. Still grinning, and before Sly could guess what he was going to do, Erik brought the broadside of the belt down on the tender, unprotected skin of the fledgling's chest - right over where he'd briefly had that nipple ring. When he drew the belt away, the welt that marred the pale skin was bright red and already raised up, with blood tinging the edges of the mark and making thin trails down the slender ribcage. Pausing for a moment to admire the lovely sight, Erik growled into Sly's mind, "Move, and I'll leave you here, unfulfilled, for the rest of the night. Obey me... and I'll give you what you want. What your body so desperately craves..." Kano: Sly jerked, startled, as the heavy belt slapped loudly against his skin, immediate and sharp pain radiating from the welt. Though surprised (other than the brief piercing, all of Erik's previous ministrations had been performed by hand) he was hardly as resistant as he would have liked; heat pooled low in his belly in response to the sensation, and he felt his eyes growing heavy with desire, impossible to mask. The thought of defiance for its own sake teased him, if only to preserve his integrity (well, that was way to look at it) in the situation. "Move, and I'll leave you here, unfulfilled, for the rest of the night. Obey me... and I'll give you what you want. What your body so desperately craves..." Both rebelling and shuddering at the authoritative statement, Sly froze absolutely, though he wondered abstractly as to how the directions might be interpreted. What if he didn't leave the bed, but one hand conveniently strayed to the throbbing ache between his legs? Tempting, but as yet too great a risk given the possible consequence. Though still, no restriction had been placed on his mouth, and he felt it necessary to slide in another jab, lest the German think he was getting his way too easily. "You want me," he taunted in a lazy drawl, mouth turning up at the corners. A thought struck him, and he rolled his eyes casually. "By the by, do you have a name to go with that kink? I like to know who to address when I'm coming - and BastardGermanSadist is a bit of a mouthful, you'll agree." Gray: Erik very nearly rolled his eyes at the so-called taunt. He'd admitted that he wanted the other, had he not? In fact, he'd said that very thing only a scant few moments earlier. "Don't make me gag you," he threatened, though it was only halfhearted, as he rather enjoyed hearing the sounds that his prey would make. Pulling back his impromptu whip once again, he brought it down with staggering force, then leaned over to lick away the trails of blood that dripped so prettily down the other vampire's sides. Unable to help himself, he bared his fangs and sank his teeth into the flesh just above Sly's hip, though he didn't drink. He simply craved the taste of this man in his mouth once again, and, pulling away to deal another stinging blow to the red and welted chest, he savored the flavor. His eyes were hooded once again, and bright with desire. At the question, his lips quirked up at the corners faintly and he answered, "My name is Erik. Though I rather like the sound of BastardGermanSadist. Has a nice ring to it." At the mention of "rings,' the elder's eyes honed in on the empty nipple and narrowed there, almost as though he could re-pierce the hole solely with his intense gaze. Dropping the belt onto the bed beside Sly's prone body - he didn't bother to ask for his victim's name, as he could learn it on his own if he chose to dig around in his mind - Erik straddled the fledgling's thighs and reached out to begin divesting Sly of his clothing. His hands were quick and brutal, and his long fingernail raked deep furrows in the pale flesh that the elder licked at with relish. The rush of blood, just there, beneath the skin, was intoxicating. Still, there was the matter at hand to attend to. Once he had Sly's bobbing cock released and bared to his hungry gaze, Erik stood, giving the mental command of, "Do NOT move," and strode to his bedside table, from which he retrieved something that he kept from the fledgling's gaze. Coming back and straddling those streaked red thighs once again, he reached out and began to tie the length of cord firmly around Sly's arousal and heavy balls. Once done, he sat back to admire the pretty sight, and touched the tip of a finger to the angry and swollen head of his prey's erection. "Didn't I tell you you'd beg for me before the night was over...?" he taunted quietly, before standing and shucking his own jeans to leave them in a pile on the floor. Crawling back up Sly's body, he lowered his head and claimed those plump lips in a savage and demanding kiss, while his mental voice taunted, "I'm going to make you scream..." Kano: The combination of stinging blows and teeth - fuck, but the German's teeth were up with the Wonders of the World in his esteem - had Sly purring as surely as any feline, his body opening like a blossom (a wonderful symmetry in that, to match the crimson flowers Erik was raising on his skin) under the ministrations rather than recoiling. Once divested of his admittedly unsexy sweats, Sly spread his legs wantonly in silent encouragement. His own eyes, hooded and hungry, roamed over the skin which the elder displayed when he rose and moved from the bed. "It's a shame I can't move," he murmured lowly, fighting the near-giddiness which threatened to take hold. "There are things I'd love to do to your body, Erik." The sudden constriction of his hardness, however, had Sly jerking in protest, molten eyes sudden wide and very alert. The mouth which was proving more dangerous and addictive than any cigarette he had ever encountered swallowed any complaints he might have uttered, and without thought he parted his lips wide, seeking to draw the elder's tongue into his mouth and nip it teasingly. "I'm going to make you scream..." Thus occupied, replying vocally was somewhat precluded. It demanded a response, however. Unsure if he would be heard, he projected a thought as clearly and directly as he was able (was it a two-way connection? Could Erik recieve another's thoughts as surely as he could force his own?) "I'm only here because I know you can make me scream." Frustrated by the teasing, he squirmed ever so slightly, abused hips seeking friction. For once, his inner voices were mercifully quiet - minus the stubborn, insistent one which reminded him that there would be no begging, no matter the circumstance - allowing his body to revel, the anticipation of what he knew the dark male could do to his body keeping his pulse quick and ragged. Gray: His name on the fledgling's tongue brought on a round of shivers that he masked well by grinding his hips down onto Sly's restrained erection harshly, feeling the cord biting into his own skin and knowing that it must be nearly excruciating for the younger vampire. The thought made him grin, and he pulled away from their bloody kiss to gaze down at the other's face and to watch the reactions flit across. "You'll have your chance," his mental voice murmured in response to the statement about Sly wanting to do things to his body. "But first... you're going to scream for me. Later, after this... need... on both our parts has been eradicated, then you may have your way." And it was a need, something that gnawed at him and demanded to be appeased - the need to dominate someone; own them; possess them... just as he knew that it was a similarly demanding need that found Sly here in his apartment. Erik was able to pick up on Sly's thoughts, but only because his focus was so completely on the younger vampire lying beneath him. If he had been focused on anything else, or his attention diverted by something, he wouldn't have heard Sly's statement. Because he did, he only grinned wickedly and captured the youth's mouth once again, his fangs biting and nipping at Sly's lips while his tongue licked away the blood that was brought forward. Sinking down, his tongue possessed the redhead's mouth at the same time that Erik drew his hips back and reached down to line himself up. Sly was unprepared and not stretched out, but that was just fine with Erik. Rearing back, he drove his hips forward, impaling the young vampire once again on his swollen length while his mouth plundered and took and, hopefully, swallowed any screams that Sly might have give him. Kano: Sly could not help bucking, the sharp, unfamilar constriction and abrasion of his genitals causing his cock to throb in frustrated need even as he snarled at the punishing sensations. At the promise couched in Erik's threats, the fledgling arched auburn brows as wryly as he was able when flushed and panting. "I'll hold you to that, bastard," he murmured almost affectionately, nipping briefly at the elder's jaw. At the push of the other's tongue forcefully possessing his mouth, he moaned fiercely, sucking on the questing muscle as though to mimic the receptiveness of his body, the intensity of the intercourse anticipated. The instinct to mask and conceal took hold, however, when the German's turgid member ripped into him once more, his body having already neatly repaired and contracted from the mortal's attentions not long before. That first, piercing moment was overwhelming, the pain so sudden and extreme that for a terrifying moment his vision went black and breath froze in his chest. But even as the raw scream built and tore from his throat, he was jerking his mouth away from Erik's and burying his teeth in his own right bicep, feeling muscle tear and pour blood at the vicious bite. It cleared his head ever so slightly, distracting him somewhat from the length forcing him open even as the flesh muffled his agonized screaming. Seeking purchase, any link on which he could concentrate other than the swollen hardness brutally opening his channel, his left arm hooked tensely over the elder's shoulders. Pale, clenching fingers dug into the thick hair at the back of Erik's neck, yanking sharply in his thrashing. The stifled sounds he made were bleeding into ragged moans, though even in his quest for pain he was unable to will his hips into motion yet. Gray: Erik sighed in bliss and tipped his head back when his lips were released so that Sly could muffle his instinctive scream. Closing his eyes, he buried his nose in the other male's neck and murmured, "It's all right... I want to hear you scream. Don't hide it from me..." As though to force the sounds out by sheer action and volume of pain, the darker vampire arched his hips backward, pulling himself nearly completely out of the brutalized channel he'd just rammed himself into. Pausing for a few tempestuous, heart-pounding moments, Erik finally shoved his way forward, once again feeling flesh tear under his merciless onslaught. Reveling in the sensations, he lowered his dark head and licked at the blood that was trailing down Sly's arm from where he'd bitten himself. Reaching down, he lifted both of the fledgling's legs and hoisted them roughly over his own shoulders, opening Sly up impossibly wide and leaving him nearly vulnerable to Erik's cruel and vicious ministrations. Glancing down, he felt a shudder rip through his spine at the sight of his own pulsing cock, covered in blood, sliding into and out of the wildly spasming anus of his partner. There simply was nothing sexier, and the German groaned and closed his eyes lest he lose himself and this beautiful encounter was over before it had really begun. The fingers tangled in his hair drew a low growl of pleasure of Erik's throat, and he demanded huskily, "Hold on to me..." With the command in place, he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around the fledgling's waist, the long tips of his fingernails biting into the skin and breaking it in some places to send yet more blood trickling over Sly's sides. Thusly anchored, he began to move in earnest, slamming himself forward again and again and feeling as though he was going to send them both crashing through the wall of his bedroom and into the neighboring apartment's living room. Kano: When Erik rammed into Sly once more, the pain shot from his clenching, agonized channel up to the roots of his hair, the tips of his fingers and toes, an instant of electric pain that consumed him entirely. Even with his gleaming teeth ripping into the muscle of his bicep, his lips curled back reflexively and the bloodied flesh was not enough to suppress the screams so livid and ecstatic in nature. The sudden change in position was maddening, shifting ever more of the power to the elder vampire and out of Sly's hands. An irritating shiver that traced his spine reminded him that he still craved the vulnerability, the domination, even as it warred with his pride. Who was he in this room? Never before had he lost himself so completely, shed the identity of feral strength and vehement self-sufficiency by which he defined himself. The rhythm was so very brutal, merciless, their bodies rocking with such force that Sly's hands could not seek purchase. With the blood so thick on the air he was intoxicated and dizzy, and he released his upper arm from the clamp of his jaws so he could better dig his fingers into his hair and arch sharply, using the leverage of his legs to hold himself against Erik's body just a little longer with every thrust, grind his hips so that the blunt head was slamming against the bundle of nerves that sent sparks behind his eyes and throaty moans from his bloodied lips. A wisp of common sense floated to the surface of his muddled mind, and one hand slipped up his body to his groin, the shaft darkened with blood and so hard he feared the skin might split. Long fingers never reached the restraining cord, preoccupied by toying with the weeping slit, palming the turgid length. At a moment of particular intensity, as his thumbnail slid into the slit just so and the other's cock collided with his prostate, he made the mistake of looking up, of finding the elder's burning gaze, and pinned by that stare he felt his body desperately seek orgasm, shudder for a climax denied by the chafing cord. Gray: Erik was in no position to deny anyone anything at that moment, as his own hedonistic body was demanding its release; screaming at him in deafening tones to forget his power play and simply give in. Simply reach for that precipice that he knew was just around the corner, and take Sly with him as he tumbled. But if he did that, he wouldn't be holding true to himself, as it was that partial self-denial that he also enjoyed... holding himself back until the last minute, urging his partner higher, faster, harder, all without pausing for the space of a heartbeat to catch his breath. Thrusting his hips harder, burying himself deeper, the elder leaned down and locked his own lethally sharp teeth into Sly's throat, coaxing yet more blood from the fledgling's already abused body, though he didn't drink it... simply added it to the already-intoxicating layers that lay over them both like a blanket. Though he'd gotten his own release at the club - several times over, in fact - it hadn't been the one person who had so stirred him up. And that person was beneath him now, making beautifully agonized sounds and digging long fingernails into the tender skin of his back. With his body demanding so much of him already, Erik reached down and ran long fingers over the chord that so cruelly held Sly's orgasm from him. As soon as his fingers came into contact with the rough material, he reached out with his mind and touched the fledgling's, his mental voice in a purring drawl as he spoke even as he raised his head from the tasty throat and crudely licked away the blood from Sly's own mouth. "I told you that you would beg me before this was done. Beg me now.... beg for your release and I might grant it to you." Kano: There was the sharp glide of teeth, the ecstatic penetration of the vein. Deft fingers at the base of his pained cock, a damp tongue claiming his mouth, and that brutal rhythm, Erik's ceaseless thrusting never faltering in its rhythm - "I told you that you would beg me before this was done. Beg me now.... beg for your release and I might grant it to you." The fledgling screamed hoarsely in fury, eyes snapping open to reveal an eerie yellow blaze like those of a rabid animal. Narrow hips snapped in defiance, but Sly knew the attempt to be futile - now that Erik had recalled his earlier ultimatum, he would not allow Sly's release under any other terms. He could refuse, certainly; because that had worked so well before. The young vampire was being roughly fucked for the fourth time that evening, and only now nearing release - it had been too exhausting a process for him to possibly find satisfaction at his own hand. Anger made him tense, made his muscles clench, and he winced as he felt himself tighten sharply around Erik's turgid shaft. It was too vivid, too clear a reminder of how much he needed this. Sly attempted to follow instructions, with the best intentions. That his hands suddenly seemed to be wrapped around the German's throat was an odd coincidence. "Let me come, you twisted fuck!" he snarled. Gray: Erik very nearly chuckled, amused as much by the demand as by the hands that had been wrapped around his throat. Removing his hand from Sly's trapped and restrained erection, the elder vampire viciously thrust forward several more times, deliberately holding his own release back in order to torment the fledgling beneath him a bit longer. "That was not, by any stretch of the imagination, begging," he purred into Sly's mind. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to obtain your goal this time around." He didn't bother to deny that he was a 'twisted fuck,' knowing full well that his kinks and desires were out of the norm even amongst his own kind. He had been truly fortunate to run into the younger vampire at Mori... someone who complimented his own desires and craved - albeit unwillingly - the dark things that Erik could do to him. Quickly, before Sly could protest, the darker of the two pulled completely away and slipped himself free of the grasping channel he'd just been brutalizing. Hard, strong hands gripped his companion roughly around the waist and flipped him over onto his belly, grinding his bound cock into the bedsheets and producing a scratching sound from the rough chord biting into the soft fabric of the sheets. Arms that seemed to be infused with steel folded and draped over Sly's shouldblades, effectively pinning him down to the bed and leaving his rear end up in the air for the taking. And take Erik did. As soon as he had the fledgling where he wanted him, he lost no time in brutally reinserting himself into the other's smaller body; his own pulsing length shoving through layers of flesh and blood to strike repeatedly at the bundle of nerves in an effort to force Sly to beg for his release. One arm remained to keep the younger man pinned to the bed, but the other arm snaked lower and dipped beneath the raised hips of the redhead to harshly grasp his brutalized cock. Stroking the hardened flesh roughly, Erik demanded, "I won't tell you again.... beg me." Kano: Sly writhed, feral and furious. The body already so battered shook beneath thrusts that threatened to shatter him, rattle his bones until he fell to pieces. Weeping and turgid against his belly, his cock only throbbed more insistently at the abrasion of cord rubbing tender skin raw, at the elder vampire's rough grasp. Though his jaw snapped at air, vicious teeth sinking purchase, he could not shift enough beneath Erik's insistent weight to bury his fangs in flesh. His long arms were likewise restrained by the position, unable to rip the German's throat away with nails as cruel as any claws. Even as he fought, however, Erik knew what the American's body craved. How the heat gathered in his belly, how he was possessed by the pounding of his blood. Resonant, utterly whorish moans and inarticulate screams of pleasure were not muffled when Sly sought to bury his face in the mattress. For all his fury, his hips continued to snap back against the elder's body, the staccato slapping of heavy scrotum against his skin nearly as loud as his hungry sounds. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? he thought dazedly. He remembered the answer well. There could not be both. They could not exist simultaneously. Either the force could be stopped - or the object would surrender. Fuck, he needed this. The torn muscles of his channel tightened convulsively, heightening the splitting pain to remind him of his motivation. This once - only this once - but God, he had to let himself have this. "Please," he snarled defiantly, refusing to cower; near-quaking with the need to do the other harm. Later. He would redeem himself after all this. "Bitte. Now are you going to get me off or not, you sorry fuck?!" Gray: Through the whole time Sly debated with himself, Erik continued pounding into the smaller body beneath him, spurred on by lust and passion, certainly, but also by a deep understanding of what was needed between them. The fledgling needed someone to control and dominate him, to rip away his pride and humiliate him while still leaving his dignity. Likewise, the elder vampire required someone to dominate, to possess and claim and make utterly his. Then.... the snarled, angry words that drew a reluctantly admiring grin onto Erik's feral face. Finally, the fledgling had broken enough to ask, though he was bitter and defiant about it and would likely bitch and moan about it for hours - if not days - to come. Still, he had done what the elder had demanded of him... sort of.... and with an easy grace and inherent strength, the German picked Sly up and held him close to his bigger body - the redhead's back to the elder's front. Trim hips still snapped and pumped, driving himself into the battered channel he was brutalizing, but long, deft fingers skated slowly downward, then began to pluck at the knot that continued to deny Sly his orgasm. He picked and pulled at the rough rope slowly, even as his thrusts grew greater in intensity, then finally felt it give way in his hand. Immediately, Erik closed his long-fingered hand around the abused flesh and stroked quickly, his thumb skating over the slick, swollen tip and sliding into the slit. At the same time, he released the incredible hold he had on his own self-control and felt his orgasm spiraling up to blindside him. Just before he came, he sank his fangs into Sly's shoulder and bit deeply, moaning wantonly at the hot rush of blood that filled his mouth, even as he coated the younger vampire's inner walls thickly. |
| Humanity is a never ending loop of amusement for one reason or another; you just have to dig far enough past the bullshit and fake faces to find the true core of idiocy. | |
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