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 Dim light was coming through the curtained windows, revealing a room shabbily decorated in an out-of-date style, as if someone had sealed up the room a hundred years ago and left it untouched ever since.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

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.