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Characters: Dionysus and Melpomene
Date/Time: Morning of May 1st.
Location: A room in L'Hotel de Jeu Ancien
Rating: R at least.
Warnings: Severe profanity, nudity, possible violence
Summary: Mortal enemies must work together or die trying.

He'd gone to sleep much as usual--naked, on a couch, one arm around a half-empty bottle, and the other arm around a virtual stranger. As he drifted awake, however, he started to notice unfamiliar sensations that weren't there the night before. The fact that he was lying in a bed instead of a couch, for one. And the metal bracelet around his wrist, that was a new one from the night before as well.
Sitting up, he took a look around the room. Dim light was coming through the curtained windows, revealing a room shabbily decorated in an out-of-date style, as if someone had sealed up the room a hundred years ago and left it untouched ever since. Hang on, he thought to himself, this looks just like--

Oh, fuck.

He forced himself to turn his head, look down at his wrist, and follow the chain to its end. He recognized the face of the woman next to him just as she opened her own eyes.

"Ω, σκατά ζωή μου," he blurted out.

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"If you want to keep breathing, I suggest we 'power through' it pretty fucking fast. Now get dressed," she was practically growling it through her teeth. She was riled up and already wanted to pummel into a bloody pulp on a regular basis. Taking away what few inhibitions she already had was not conducive to his surviving this little trial.

He closed his eyes and tried counting to ten, slowly and deliberately. It didn't help much-- he could feel the beginnings of a serious rage building right behind his solar plexus. He knew that if it came down to punches, it wouldn't go very well for him at all, but he was starting to reach the point where he was too angry to care about that.
"Look," he bit out deliberately. "I can't reach the other dresser with this chain. We're here at this one now. I'll take whatever's in it, if it means so godsdamned much to you."

Her temper was hanging on by a thread, and the only reason she was holding on to that thin thread was because she knew at least half of that was just proximity. She would be damned if she went into a frenzy because of him. She was crazy, but it was her crazy.

"Whatever," she gritted through her teeth.

"Fine. Good. Let's get on with it-- we can't do a damn thing unless we move together."

And then, because he could not stop himself, he added "And would it kill you not to be such a complete fucking asshole for five minutes? I mean, seriously, is your survival dependent on you being perpetually pissed off at everything except my brother?"

Oh, such the wrong thing to say to her.

Her free hand shot up and clasped around his throat fast, shoving him back against the dresser roughly. Her fingers dug in brutally. "I think you should really concern yourself with your own survival. Which would include not convincing me that I'd rather be attached to your corpse."

Millennia of bad decisions, of drink-fueled brawls, of nights leading to mysterious bruises and broken bones the morning after--all of them seemed to explode inside himself as she dug her fingers into his throat. And all the long-nursed grudges against his fellow godlings were just that much more gasoline added to the fire. Quite simply, he was just too utterly pissed off to care any more about living or dying.
His vision narrowed to a red tunnel as he forced a scream of rage out through his constricted throat. His head snapped forward like a striking snake, his jaw moving like a piston as his teeth clamped and ripped at her hand and wrist.

She felt his teeth sink into her hand, breaking her skin, drawing blood. Her control was just no longer existent. All the martial arts training in the world couldn't have aided her in that moment, when all logical thought on how to beat him just flew away in a red haze. He'd brought so much pain to those she cared for, and now he dared to attack her. Oh no. The time for logical retaliation was fucking gone.

Snarling, she rammed her uninjured fist into his stomach, both to cause him pain and to make him release her other hand.

Droplets of blood went flying as the air whuffed out of him with the blow, cutting off his berzerker roar. But he was too far gone into the red now to pay attention to a little thing like lack of breath.
Rebounding off the dresser from the force of the punch, he began to swing his own unchained arm wildly, not caring what it connected with, as he lunged forward still biting at whatever he could reach.

Her free arm came up to block the blows, blood running down her wrist and arm. She stepped back as he moved forward, and kicked her leg out, aiming to knock his own legs out from under him.

It was a solid hit; not even his legendary rage could overcome the law of gravity, and he pitched forward as he lost his footing from the kick, sprawling across the carpet.
Her triumph, however, was relatively short-lived, as his fall yanked on the chain connecting them, throwing her off-balance enough to sprawl right by him as well.

Damn that chain! She landed hard on her bound arm, jamming her shoulder uncomfortably. She made to roll and gain her feet, but the room was small and not at all built for this sort of activity. Her back bumped squarely into the bed before she even got half way on to her side. Instinctively knowing it put her in a bad position to be pinned, she lashed out again with her foot, not really caring where she struck him. She was just looking to buy herself a few seconds to climb to her feet.

Her foot caught him on the same cheekbone she'd punched earlier, snapping his head back again and causing him to bellow out a half-breath in pain and rage. He tried to raise himself up by putting his free hand against the floor and pulling his chained arm toward him in a savage jerk.

As soon as his head snapped back, she was using her free arm to pull herself up along the foot of the bed. And then he yanked on the chain. An actual yelp of pain came out of her as her hurt shoulder was jerked, and her body was pulled forward, hitting him square across the chest in an unintentional tackle, knocking them both back to the floor, now with her sprawled over him.

Even through the fog in his head, he knew this was a bad position to be in; her body sprawled across his meant that he couldn't easily move out from underneath her. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed her free wrist as tightly as he could, pulling her arm out to the side as far as he could in hopes that she couldn't use his position atop him as a lead-in to something that would end up with his neck broken.
A strange glimmer of thought also cut through his rage--you could be doing much better things with her on top of you--but it was gone almost before he noticed it. Lacking other options, he twisted his face into a bared-teeth snarl and screamed into her face as loudly as he could.

His pulling her free arm kept her from gaining any kind of room to do anything, attack or get up. When he screamed she was bare inches from his face. She didn't flinch, only snarled back and retaliated with her own scream. Though hers was higher and on perfect pitch so it sounded more like a long held note rather than a scream. It lasted quite a long length of time, as her lung capacity was rather impressive. When she finally finished, she was panting hard as she glared into his eyes.

He was panting hard as well, almost growling with every breath, and looking right back into her eyes with the same intensity she was giving him. He still couldn't speak, but he kept a death grip on her wrist; with his other hand, he wrapped the chain around it and pulled, keeping her body pulled down onto his own. He could feel the same passionate rage roiling inside her, radiating through her skin into his.

She couldn't do anything like this. She had no leverage to move off him with both her arms pulled out as they were. But then again, neither could he do anything without letting her go.

"Your move," she taunted from less than an inch away from his face.

Still panting, he raised his head up and his jaws flashed again-- but instead of ripping and rending like they had earlier, they closed on the skin of her neck. The bite was hardly a gentle one, but it wasn't intended to cause damage. However, the pressure of his teeth against her skin was a reminder that damage was a definite possibility.
"Are you through?" he growled, his voice muffled by a mouthful of her neck.

She sucked in a hissing breath, and....sagged slightly against his chest. Likely the opposite reaction one would expect, but Mel had a thing for this type of biting.

"Do that a little harder, and I'll end up with a matching set." With no inhibitions to speak of at the moment, she was just saying exactly what was crossing her mind, which didn't necessarily entail answering his question directly.

Now that he was up close, he could see the scar on her neck, presumably the one she referred to. He didn't quite know exactly what was going on, but with the taste of her skin against his tongue and the heat of her body coming through her thin clothing into his own naked skin... well, he couldn't quite stop himself from getting a fresh grip on her neck with his teeth, this time a little harder.

She let out a sound that was something like a groan, and her head fell forward, forehead touching faintly against his shoulder, the skin of her neck straining taut between his teeth. The tension in her arms eased noticeably. She hadn't wanted this to happen, but she couldn't help that she was just wired a certain way, and he'd just pressed a major button for her.

His teeth kept moving around her neck, up around her jaw, down to her throat. They weren't as harsh as the previous bites were, but they came much more rapidly and covered much more ground. His own body was starting to react to hers as well, moving against hers to press himself as close to her as he could as her legs fell to the outside of his.

With her arms still held out, she had to just give over her weight to him. So she was fully pressed against him as bit her over and over, making her shift against him restlessly.

"Harder," she growled softly. Maybe later she'd be horrified at herself, but her capacity for it was gone thanks to their proximity, and the fact that they'd transitioned from straight violence to something else all together. So now she just wanted what she wanted. And that was for him to bite her harder. Then they could go from there.

He let the chain fall from around his hand, and moved both his hands up to move up and down her back as much as they could. With every pass of his hands, her tank top slid up her back a little bit more. His teeth sank into her throat harder than previously-- he was starting to feel himself losing control as well.
His teeth nipped her chin and her lower lip before returning to her throat, sinking in hard.

She felt his teeth sink in, and it drew a very favorable moan from her. But still it wasn't quite enough. And she knew why. Breaking skin on her actual throat wasn't conducive to anything fun for anyone. So with her hands free, she took direct control. She took him by the hair and moved him where she wanted him; the curve where her neck and shoulder met. It was a safe place for this, and plus it would feel ten times better.

She pressed him to the spot firmly, and whispered demandingly. "Do it."