metem_logs | (no subject)

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 Dim light was coming through the curtained windows, revealing a room shabbily decorated in an out-of-date style, as if someone had sealed up the room a hundred years ago and left it untouched ever since.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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

By now, he could only obey, and sank his teeth into her flesh right where she'd presented herself to his mouth, as hard as he could. His own body gave a shudder as he did, his hands trying to feel as much of her as they could.

That did it. She could feel the skin breaking under his teeth, and she let out a little cry of delight, the sensation causing her to basically writhe atop him. Point of no return officially reached.

He bit again and again, her cries and her movements guiding him to how and where to bite her. He half-moaned, half-growled at the taste of her blood along his teeth. He could feel his own arousal pressing against her tiny shorts as she moved on top of him; he moved his own hips in response.

Now that just wasn't going to do at all. She could feel him pressing against her clothes, and it would absolutely not do.

Pulling away from his teeth, she sat up, practically ripping her tank over her head. It stuck along the chain but she didn't care. Then she was leaning over him, one arm on either side of his head, supporting her weight. Her red hair fell around them as a tiny spot of deeper crimson dripped from her shoulder onto his chest.

"If you're waiting for an invitation, this is it."

With a different sort of growl, he reached down to her shorts, pulling at them, ripping at them, trying to pull them out of the way as quickly as he could with one chained hand. Below her, he tried to maneuver his body underneath her so that he could take advantage of whatever efforts his hands produced.

Fabric tore along the seam of her shorts and partly away from the waistband, but it was good enough for what they needed.

She adjusted with him until she felt him line up in the right spot. Then she just pushed herself back and onto him.

He arched his back and moaned as he felt her pushing onto him, drawing him into her. It felt absolutely exquisite, and when she began to move on top of him, it became even better. He was beyond all speech now, his hand on her hip pulling her down onto him harder as she sank all the way down onto him.

She groaned through her teeth when he pulled her down onto him. She held there for a brief moment, and then began to ride him. There was nothing gentle about it. She moved, hard and fast.

He moved with her, pushing himself into her as she plunged down onto him, adding his own groans and growls to hers. The room echoed with their voices, as well as the sound of their bodies meeting together. He knew that he would have the image of her on top of him, very nearly naked and her face twisted in pleasure, burned into his mind forever.

She kept the pace demanding, almost bruising. The display marked by the steadily growing trail of blood flowing down from her neck, between the valley of her breasts and over her stomach.

From the pace she was setting, he felt that it wasn't entirely impossible that she'd end up killing him after all-- though, truth be told, this was a far better way to go. Panting and growling, he put his hand into the blood flowing down over her, feeling its warmth, seeing its wine-like color on his own skin.

This wasn't a nice coupling in any context. There was blood and bruises involved, and it was the way she honestly preferred it. As such, it wasn't overly long before her moans became more frequent, signaling her impending climax.

Her urgent motions atop him were serving to draw his own climax closer, despite his attempts to restrain it. And from the way things were feeling, it was going to be something earth-shattering.

He hoped briefly it wouldn't be body-shattering as well, but the thought got swept away in the moment.