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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FifthMovement|Fifth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Wild Creatures ==
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: She had that moment -- when Iria was her's, wholly and totally, and she took it. Breathed in the other woman's breaths as she brought her to the peak, vampiric kiss locking them together above as her fingers did below. Turquoise eyes stared into grey with a terrible and lustful intensity, holding the gaze with all the hypnotic power of a serpent. That moment seemed to last forever.
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| − | But it did end eventually. Iria lay back on the bed again, Selina wrapped about one side of her. She held the gaze, though she let the kiss off. Slowly. Moving back like a sinuous dragon, corpse eater of the north visible in those eyes. Still holding that promise, the temptation she had whispered to the woman just a few moments ago.
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| − | Her eager voice -- Selina having not gotten her final release as Iria did -- is soft, wicked, deadly. A razored whisper of sin. "Shall we go to him, then?"
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: The other woman sighed deeply. Eyes closed, an arm draped across them, her other arm was looped lazily around the Windian's waist and not a muscle tense. She would have liked nothing more in that moment than to simply stay where she was. Warm and satisfied. To forget all the poisoned temptations the Dark Angel had whispered into her ears. Iria knew the damnable woman had picked just the right moment of weakness to speak of the matter. To fill her mind with those images.
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| − | <i>Bitch.</i>
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| − | But it was too late now. Iria could feel it. An itch she just couldn't scratch. One that not even the talented lover against her could. A burning just bellow her skin, like impatience manifest. Barely even sexual, mostly just... frustrated.
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| − | She sighed again, eyes opened the barest slit glinting down at Selina. "I assume he can wait a few moments while we freshen up?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Lips move upward ever so slightly, a faint and ironic smile, that. "That goes without saying." The Windian says easily, still soft in tone.
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| − | <i>I have grown...from then.</i>
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| − | She disengages from the other woman with a smooth and graceful quickness, stretching silently after getting to her feet, black feathered wings spreading behind her as she moves her arms above her head.
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| − | <i>To grow older, is to grow more wicked.</i>
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| − | The air is fairly chill off the warmth of the bed. Her dress, and its coat, will likely not fix that. They are far too light.
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| − | <i>Soon I'll be burning up again.</i>
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| − | Whether Iria comes with her or not, Selina doesn't intend to let Moon go through the night without peeling that dress off of her. Oh, that would not do at all.
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: The Captain follows Selina off the bed, but instead of gathering up her clothes, makes her way over to a broad wash bowl. Delicate pink flower petals float on the surface of the water, their browning tips making it clear the bowl had been filled far earlier in the evening. Something about that makes Iria frown faintly, as if the bowl or those who'd filled it were part of some greater conspiracy manipulating her into doing this. Kadel was nothing if not considerate to the potential needs of his guest.
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| − | Take a small folded towel from beside the bowl, Iria soaks it in the water a moment and wrings it out. The damp cloth is like ice against her burning skin, sending a shiver through her as she begins to slide it over her body. Cleaning off the worst of the sweat and scents of bedplay.
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| − | She takes her time, consuming minutes in both washing and drying. By the time she's done, the greater glow has finally left her skin and she turns back to Selina with a far less angry desire in her eyes. She moves slowly, picking up each discarded article of clothing and slipping it back on in turn. Taking care to make as little noise as possible for her husband sleeping near by. Taking care not to look at him even once as she does.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Selina does not watch the other woman like a possessive or obsessed lover while she cleans herself, she simply picks up her clothing and arranges it neatly in a folded pile for her to put back on again -- the first items she'd don on top, and so on down the stack. When Iria is done, the Windian does a quicker job on herself, used to doing such things rapidly and not needing to linger on the act. Then she slides into her own garments for the night, as if she had been born into them.
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| − | <i>I am truly a sinner.</i>
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| − | She can't help but notice Iria's reluctance to look at her husband. Ah, but the woman should have known this when she met her. When she saw what Selina was capable of. When she had first desired the Dark Angel. The dangers in that were not purely physical.
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| − | <i>My desire is not a tame thing, easily dipped into once and put aside like a harmless diversion.</i>
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| − | <i>Even for me.</i>
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| − | She looks at the other woman once she's dressed, and tips her head toward the door, careful not to look at Tiomen either. She did feel bad, afterall. It is just that the rest quite outweighs the guilt.
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: The Captain nodded back briskly, hesitating only a moment before she strode towards the door. She could feel her back draw itself up straight, feel herself measuring the distance of her steps to a regimented space, even monitoring the sway of her hips behind the half-skirt draping to a perfect formality. The click of her tall heels sounded out like a drum beat.
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| − | <i>Marching in heels, is it?</i> She thought with a subtle hint of loathing. Just like she did to command her troops. Pulling up a formal mask in the face of this... this what? Betrayal? Submission?
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| − | Perhaps she would feel far less guilty with either word did not send a subtle thrill up her spine.
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| − | Iria stopped before the door, folding her arms as she waited for the Dark Angel to lead her on. Not looking at the other woman any more than she did her husband.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Selina's sandals are similarly high heeled, though she doesn't quite march. Selina can, indeed, move at quite a formidable pace even when she affects a mincing step. In a longer gown that covers her feet, the effect would seem to be that she smoothly glides over the ground. Though she is not doing that now. Instead, moving out of the room, she is wondering where Moon would be.
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| − | <i>Either somewhere obvious, or somewhere by himself, with a woman.</i>
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| − | Moon had never struck her as the type to share his women with other men. This is, of course, assuming that he did not wait for her, the prize he really wanted for the night, Selina reflects as she descends the floors of the building.
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| − | <i>And whoever I may bring along.</i>
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| − | Her question is answered fairly quickly when they come to a place on the ground floor from which they can spy the dance floor. He is there, with some of his gang. In the middle of the place, pillows and cushions strewn around. Asleep, or seeming like it anyway. Selina looks back to Iria, stopping for a moment. "I will go fetch him, so you do not need to be seen there."
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| − | By the gang members, is the implied meaning Selina is obviously giving. She is sure Kadel and perhaps some of his servants will find out about this, if it goes through. But they will not spread it around.
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: Following behind Selina mechanical, lost in a world of her own, Iria nearly walked straight into the Dark Angel when she suddenly comes to a halt. Blinking rapidly to chase shattered thoughts from her mind, she peered past Selina a moment to the monument of bodies decorating the floor of the hall.
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| − | Her breath came a touch faster. He was there, somewhere, in that pile. By Amaranthine, she could almost smell them from here. That drunken scent of leather and booze and sex that seemed to follow their kind everywhere. Repugnant. Vile.
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| − | ... aphrodisiacal. Nearly as powerful as the aura and gaze of the Windian assassin. Far less dark and sinful. Far more... animal.
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| − | Iria frowned sternly, stroking her palm across her belly to smooth out supposed wrinkles in her gown. Far from the first time since they'd left the room. She was almost certain she could see the shank of dark hair atop his head. A head she'd wanted to see dangling from a rope for some time now. Until tonight, those had been the only fantasies she'd ever fancied about the gang leader.
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| − | "Should I just wait here...?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Selina doesn't fall over despite being perched on those heels...though she does reflexively call upon the simple magic which stablizes her footing without even thinking. Stepping forward a few paces, then turning to the other woman, she nods in affrimative, her voice very soft and low. "Mhmm. They don't need to see or hear anything about this. Step back out of sight from there, in fact. I'll be back shortly."
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| − | The Windian turns and leaves, exiting into now much less cluttered dancing area. She spots Moon easily enough, and goes up to him. Bending down once she gets to one side of him, Selina pokes him with an index finger. Not saying anything yet.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon</b>: Pleasant dreams. Warm bodies. There was nothing really sexual in the good old tradition of the 'dog pile.' Just a mass of sleeping bodies fallen over one another, pushed together for warmth and comfort. Sure, there was a stray hand here and there and if a warm face brushed your own? There was nothing wrong in stealing a taste. But far beyond anything else, it was comfort. It was <i>safety</i>.
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| − | It was why Selina's sudden intrusion into the stack brought sleepy-eyed stares and momentary grumbling, offered only until they saw who it was. A few even muttered greetings to her, but most simply buried their faces and went back to sleep. Moon's head rested on the belly of a young woman who'd stripped out of everything short of petticoats, his leg propped up over Blue's shoulder, while a woman with short blond hair had claimed the Lunar's arm as a pillow in turn.
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| − | "Hey darlin'..." he muttered softly, seconds before Selina's finger made contact, a grin spreading across his face.
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| − | Moon knew scent too well, had been waiting for it again for some time now. He didn't bother to open his eyes just yet, but reached up with a gloved hand and closed it over her own, pulling it down to plant a kiss on the back before giving a bit more firm a tug. Trying to draw her down into the pile.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Because of her already active magic, Selina did not topple when she resisted the tug, though her wings spread a bit, reflexively. Instead, the Windian puts a hand up, shaking her index finger from side to side, then looks to the side and makes something of a more 'come hither' motion with the finger. Making it clear she wants him to get up and follow him.
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| − | "Not tired yet." She says in a whisper, playful tone to her voice.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon</b>: When the expected weight didn't fall upon him, Moon finally opened his eyes too look up at the Windian. He could tell something was up when he caught the look on her face, playful and predatory. Like a cat that had cornered a mouse. He <i>loved</i> that look.
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| − | "Me either." He agreed softly, working carefully to dislodge himself from the others with only a minimum of grousing.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Her wings fold behind her once more as she stands up, casting her gaze about casually. Nothing should appear different from how it would were she merely alone. And nothing does. The dress clings to her as alluringly as it did before, as if she had not taken it off at all this night. Something about that little smile, that tone, and that stance and how it presented her, says she wants him to strip it off of her again. Slowly. Very slowly. While he's doing other things to her.
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| − | If that doesn't put the eagerness into him, Selina figures, then there is little right now that can.
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| − | <i>And you aren't even aware there are two dresses to peel yet.</i>
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| − | Such a sinner! Well, she only sins with the willing, yes?
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| − | "I can make you even less tired. Come." She says with the same playful whisper as before, moving away, back toward the main building.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon</b>: Grinning wolfishly, Moon yanked his coat out from under someone and slung it over his shoulder as he followed behind Selina. He didn't need to be told twice. He didn't even need to be told once. Moon had been waiting for her. There had been a few distractions here and there, sure, but that was all they were at best.
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| − | Eyes glowing like silver-yellow moons watched her swaying hips, admired again the way that gown clung to every curve. He still hadn't decided just how much of it could, or should, keep on her. But it seemed he was going to finally get the chance to find out.
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| − | Moon licked his lips slowly, prowling with heavy footfalls behind her. It was really too bad she'd borrowed it some someone else. There might not be enough of it left to return in the morning.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: She is struck by the sheer sense of animalistic desire Moon emits behind her...stronger than many times before.
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| − | <i>Good.</i>
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| − | This is, afterall, exactly what she wanted. She'll see how he handles two women in that state. Or perhaps, how two handle <i>him</i>.
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| − | Moving into the building from the dance area, Selina moves down toward Iria, then stops short of her. Turning halfway around, she raises her eyebrows at them both, slowly. Waiting for reactions.
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: Iria had never been one given to fidget. It was something she prided herself on. No matter how nervous, how frightened she was, she could hide it behind a mask of steel.
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| − | This only made her more acutely aware of the way her feet could not hold still as she waited for Selina's return, pacing back and forth at the foot of the stairs. Or the way her dressed never seemed to rest just right on her skin and the urge to pluck and pull at it came almost irresistibly. Much as she tried to fight down the impulsive motions, they only grew worse as she heard the mismatched pair of footsteps growing closer.
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| − | But that stopped, it <i>all</i> stopped the moment they both stepped into view. Her eyes were on Selina for a second, only because the Windian appeared first, but they quickly snapped past her to the man behind her. And <i>burned</i>.
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| − | So here he was. The shit who'd once been enough of a nuisance to force her to try to deal with him personally. The so-called hero of the city, who'd set off. He still didn't look like much. Taller, broader shoulders than most, but still just a typical punk. Rough, unwashed, low-bred, bitter, violent, feral, dangerous, musky, wild...
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| − | <i>Calm woman...</i>
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| − | But it was impossible to be calm, as she faced her one-time enemy over Selina's shoulder. Her breath came unevenly, calling color into he face. Iria's back straightened, her mouth drawing tight into a trembling line. She breathed in hard, nostrils flaring. "If you <i>ever</i> tell anyone about this," she whispered tightly, thrusting out an assuing finger. "Even so much as brag to your little punk friends, I will not stop until I've mounted your head on my mantle."
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: For a moment, Selina could almost feel pity for her, guessing at what kind of turmoil she must be feeling. Though not a bit of that showed -- oh no. Seeing <i>that</i> would merely anger her.
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| − | <i>Besides, she'll doubtlessly be scratching <b>him</b> up in awhile</i>. The Windian thinks only a bit sourly, still feeling where Iria got her during the heat of their passion.
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| − | "He won't." She says in a low voice, to (hopefully) forestall any reply Moon may say that'd escalate the whole thing. Useless to ask her to be more amiable at this point -- she'll probably be snarling curses at him during the act -- but starting a fight here and now would quite ruin the evening for all of them.
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| − | Except Moon. Maybe.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon</b>: Moon didn't answer her.<br>
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| − | Moon didn't speak.<br>
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| − | Moon only stared. Stared with eyes that knew not if they should reflect hate or hunger. Both held equal ground and the air around him stirred as if something just beyond the realm of perception prowled impatiently behind him. There was nothing that could be called human about him then that first few moments. Just blind animal rage and lust.
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| − | He wouldn't have believed Selina could have done it if Iria had not been standing right in front of him, but then she was right there, wasn't she? Standing there, with only Selina's dark wing between the two of them. So little a shield for someone who usually had an army to hide behind...
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| − | He wanted to hurt this woman. <i>Badly</i>. But that night with Selina in the bathing chamber. The things they had spoke about...
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| − | How much more would it hurt to let her carry around the private shame of knowing he'd had her and she'd loved it? Of knowing that if he came for her again, she'd take him?
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| − | An evil smile split across Moon's face, wicked fangs glinting vividly white. He let Selina answer for him, never drawing his eyes from Iria. Cocking his head to the side, he shrugged. Both accepting and utterly indifferent to what the Winlandian just said. As if to say, it would not have even been worth his time to brag.
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| − | <i>Poor little Captain. I'm gonna fuckin' <b>eat</b> ya <b>alive</b>.</i>
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: That was what she liked. Charmaine had had it, her viciousness put it on her sleeve when she was roused, from what Selina knew. That terrible beauty Vorpal had it -- when she dared to drop some of her ice cold manner. He had it, though not quite like this. But Moon did it the best, mixing that violent feeling with a raw desire.
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| − | It both speaks to the beast inside Selina -- that ravening thing imparted with the hunger of Flesh, Void, and Sin alike -- and to something else. Something that likes being the target. It makes her shiver in delight.
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| − | <b>I want some too!</b>
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: "Let's just get this over with." She whispered, her voice rasping faintly. Iria turned around and started back up the stairs, not looking back at either of them. Her palms left streaks of sweat as they slid along the banister. Her hips swayed with uncontrolled allure and she damned the tall heels of her shoes suddenly for helping accentuate that. The two bellow would doubtless get an excellent little show at her expense. The thought of that was somehow worse than what she was about to do. Sex was mindless physical sensation, but being someone's entertainment?
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| − | She wanted to look back, to peek back and see if they were watching, following, but didn't give them the satisfaction. Barely a week ago, she'd stared into the face of hell. She would have been able to hold <i>their</i> gaze, if it had really been worth her time.
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| − | ... <i>should</i> have been able to hold their gaze...
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: "Yes." Selina says in a voice that is sin incarnate, and then goes up behind Iria, not quite obscuring her from Moon's sight. He'll get his eyefuls. And then he'll get something more. Selina's excitement builds, bubbling up even more so than when she was with Iria and Tiomen earlier. Matching when she approached Vorpal. But not quite the same impulse to dominate, or at least stay on a level. Now it's the sharpness of sheer anticipation that pricks the Windian.
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon</b>: He snickered softly at the Captain as she stormed off up the stairs, but watched the muscles in her pale legs ripple and flex. And watched Selina as well, offering a feral grin to the excitement that radiated from her. Did she even know loudly her blood hammered through her veins? Or the tiny shiver that made her wings rustle like ash in the wind?
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| − | Of course not. Just like her nose probably couldn't catch the damp, heated scent pouring off of Iria.
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| − | Hooking a thumb into his pants pocket, he followed behind them leisurely. A shadow with glowing eyes, stalking at their heels. He took his time, drinking in both women. There was no need to rush now. Every second Iria had to think about what she was going to do would give that many more moments for her to doubt, to grow nervous, to hesitate.
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| − | Moon would love it if she tried to break and run. He'd love to see the look on her face when she realized that it was already far, <i>far</i> too late. Then he would drag her down and teach her howl and spend the rest of the night dancing .
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| − | Prey was always the most fun when it actually realized it was prey.
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| − | He wasn't going to be left out, nor were they going to start without him either. That wasn't going to happen, no matter how excited Selina was.
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| − | <i>Ya had ya fun with her already..</i>. Now that he had Iria's scent, he could almost taste it on Selina. Moon smiled at Selina's back, but mired eyes glared at his Windian lover. <i>She's <b>mine</b> now darlin'...</i>
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| − | He'd be more than happy to share whatever was left of Iria when he was done with her though. In fact, he'd insist on it. Really was too bad Selina had borrowed that dress though. Might not be enough left of the owner to return it to...
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: Iria stood impatiently, arms folded bellow her breasts as she waited for the other two to catch up. It took the Captain more than a few tries to find a room that wasn't occupied. Nothing like the opulence of the bedchamber she'd visited with her husband and Selina, this one was small and close. Simple furniture, sparsely adorned walls. One could barely call it more than a closet. A servants chamber of some sort.
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| − | The surroundings only made the itch inside her worse. It was somewhere low and dirty and dark. As picture perfect for a night of forbidden passion as the bedchamber had been for more lavish pleasures. Her mouth kept going dry as she waited, forcing her to lick her lips. Each second was an hour for her, another moment someone else could burst in and find her here. Or Tioman could awaken and find her missing.
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| − | Her heart froze at the thought of her husband. She pictured his face, the confusion that would not doubt be on it when he didn't find her in bed with him. She could already hear him asking her where she'd gone the next morning and smiling at the lies she intended to give him. Smiling and believing, so blissfully unaware...
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| − | <i>What am I doing...?</i>
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| − | The thought came, but it had only a fleeting moment to enter her mind before a sudden rattle from the doorknob thrust her attention back to the door as it slowly swung open.
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: <i>Brilliant choice of rooms.</i> Selina thinks sourly as she enters the room. Well, not too sourly -- all the good rooms must be occupied by now.
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| − | <i>And it wouldn't do to, um, do this stuff near Tiomen. </i>
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| − | Not at all. Wouldn't do at all. Instead of voicing anything about the quality of the room directly, as she steps to the side and cocks one wing upwards as she surveys it, the Windian quietly says something else.
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| − | "Suits the mood, I guess. Well, 'least it's not a burned out, ruined house. With a bloody half-dead, supposed-to-be-captive Ghost-blood tied up in the corner getting fucking nemissary assassins to ambush you when you least expect."
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| − | <b>Iria</b>: Iria can only wonder at the meaning of that or it's implications. The way the Windian speaks and looks around the room brings up a flare of irritation in her however.
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| − | "It is the best I could find on such short notice." She answered shortly, scowling at Selina. "This <i>wasn't</i> exactly a planned meeting like our own was. Not for <i>me</i> at least."
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| − | She held that irritated glare at the assassin, until her attention was called to the door as it creaked open further. A shadow filled the door frame, lit from behind by the glow of dying candles. A shadow with eyes that glinted silver and reflected red, burning intense at the edges. Eyes that stared right at her... <i>into</i> her.
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| − | Iria's breath came faster as the Lunar punk watched her silently. She felt warmth trickling down her thigh and as it touched her knee, a weakness passed through her legs until she parted them further for balance. And he still wasn't moving, damn it! Just like a man, to dick around when it was time to act.
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| − | "Well?" She demanded venomously, dropping her arms and placing a hand to her hips. "Are you just going to stand there until I get bored enough to do the work for you?"
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| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: "Doubtless the best anyone can find right now." Selina responds tiredly, not wanting to argue with someone in that mood.
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| − | She looks to Moon. Her breath catches for a moment, seeing him like that...and then she feels a bit of jealousy. Just a bit. Of Iria. Though not much. "Your move, sugar."
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| − | <b>Seventh Moon</b>: Teeth joined the eyes in glinting out of the shadowed form. Teeth capped with ivory fangs. Teeth that stretched out into a broad grin. Something dark passes across them with a soft rasp. His tongue, licking across his mouth in hunger that almost froths. Moon takes a single step forward. Iria takes a matching step back.
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| − | "<b>S'right, <i>prey...</i></b>" Moon whispers in a voice that was as much human as it was a rumbling canine growl. He closes his hand over the door, letting the light filter in for a heartbeat more, before he slams it closed behind him and throws a blanket of darkness over the room. "<b>Run.</b>"
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| − | The only light comes from him, from twin silver circles hovering in the dark. From the glint of their pale light against wickedly grinning fangs. He can see Iria, peering into his eyes, her hands drawn into shivering fists.<br>
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| − | He can hear her blood pounding like a forge works in her veins.<br>
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| − | He can smell the sudden fear in her as she realizes now that she's alone and cut off from the outside... and the arousal that she'd only be trying to deny.
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| − | Moon stepped forward again, his heavy boots thumping loudly on the floor and Iria recoiled another step, only to find her passage back blocked by the bed. Her eyes flicked back for an instant, before turning back up to him. She was breathing fast and hard, even Selina could have heard her now. Moon just grinned a little more wickedly.
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| − | It was a nice moment, when the prey realized that it had already been cornered.
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| − | | |
| − | And then the light was gone, the twin moons winking from the darkened sky. Moon didn't need to see to do this. And Iria didn't need to see where he was either.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: <i>I hadn't breathed like that.</i> Selina thinks, trying to recall exactly how it had gone that first time. But it was hard -- there was a shroud over it. Melded it together. <i>Maybe I did.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | Fear? Maybe not so much. But this is a different situation. Moon's actions send a jolt of electricity through her as she watches, hears, senses. "Mmmmm..." Comes her soft, almost unnoticeable hum of appreciation. As sorry as she feels for the other woman, the other side of her is anything but.
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| − | | |
| − | <i>It should be me there right now!</i>
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| − | | |
| − | <i>But at least you'll get the best seat for it.</i> Comes an answering voice in her head.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Iria</b>: Iria could barely hear the appreciative hum Selina offered over the sound of the throbbing in her ears and would have glared towards it if she'd known the Windian could see her. Or if she wasn't too busy trying not to twist back and forth in the darkness, resisting the urge to try and anticipate where the damn punk was.
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| − | | |
| − | It would have been pointless. There was no sound to judge it by. No light to see. She could smell him, that was certain, but then his scent was just one the many that filled the tight confines of the room. She wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. She <i>wouldn't</i>!
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| − | | |
| − | But he only gave her just enough time to start to grow nervous before he set upon her.
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| − | | |
| − | A solid presence manifested out of the darkness behind her, rushing into her back. Iria cried out in surprise as she was thrown forward, her body meeting the door in the darkness hard.
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| − | | |
| − | That was it. He wasn't here for sex. He really <i>was</i> going to try and kill her.
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| − | | |
| − | Instinct kicked in at once and started to wheel about, one hand groping for the doorhandle as the other swung out in a fist to give her room. She never had the chance to turn. Large hands closed over her wrists as the Lunar bore down on her again, shoving her body back up against the door. He pulled her arms above her head as if he didn't even notice her straining to break out of his grasp.
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| − | | |
| − | A soft animal growl rumbled deep in his throat as he pinned her there, let her strain and sweat, let her twisted bellow him. His breath washed over her neck in a hot cloud and she almost expected to feel fangs digging into her flesh. Instead, she felt him begin to nuzzle her hard. He traded one of her wrists to the other hand, pinning them both as he stroked a broad palm down her side with impunity, drew it back up with her skirt tangled on his fingers.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: "The sweet hereafter."
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| − | | |
| − | *<b>tok</b>*
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| − | | |
| − | *<b>tok</b>*
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| − | | |
| − | *<b>tok</b>*
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| − | | |
| − | "Malfeas, Jigoku, the Underworld...whatever one will." Comes the lusty, bemused voice of the First Facet of Damnation from the darkness, once the sound of her heels against the floor fade. She lays a hand on the doorknob, and locks it, voice continuing in the same tone as if her mate isn't beginning to molest the woman right next to her. As if she can't <i>feel</i> the energy roiling off of both of them. "What is it but the home of murderers and...madmen?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | She moves her face closer to Iria's, lips whispering out a sultry, heated continuation. "Justice for the infirm, justice for the slighted, justice for the poor. But nothing for the mad..."
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| − | | |
| − | Her breath that washes against Iria is searing in its desire, eyes not glowing, but <i>dark</i>. Almost able to be seen in that, despite the blackness around them. "Do you think there is justice only in death and torment, shining angel?"
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Iria</b>: She hears the footsteps, the soft click of high heels slowly approaching, each tap in the darkness making her body tense a little more. Some little part of her, a part that is still trying to be the Captain even now, builds hope in every step Selina takes that the other woman is coming to stop this. To pull her lover off. To restrain him somehow. To, pathetically, rescue her from the same situation the assassin had tempted her into.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Cheek pressed to the door, she cannot just hear the lock latch closed, but feel it through the door. The sound is thunderous in it's finality. That last avenue of retreat, that last rope of safety, and that desperate hope that Selina would be her savior shattered in the hollow click of the lock.
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| − | | |
| − | And when it went, Iria let out a moan that was almost a protest, almost a sob, and entirely incensed. Her whole body trembled. It was not in fear alone.
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| − | | |
| − | Panting breaths were the best Iria could answer the Dark Angel with. She doesn't even know what the other woman is talking about it. Her voice isn't comforting and the things she is saying are dizzying in their oddity. Selina's breath is the only thing Iria can grasp, that same burning desire she'd felt against her not even an hour ago. Something so wonderful then, made so terrifying now. Like the breath of the man pressing her to the door – not the pant of an eager lover, but the hungry breath of two beasts, only toying with her before they tear her apart.
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| − | | |
| − | It was the most shamefully exciting thing she'd ever felt.
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| − | | |
| − | Iria couldn't truly perceive when her thrashing had ceased being a desperate bid for escape and became a slow grind back against him. His hand caressed her, moved where it pleased, grabbed where it pleased. It made goose bumps of anticipation rise on her skin as it approached and left an ache behind where it passed.
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| − | | |
| − | He moved his mouth to the back of her neck and Iria shuddered as she felt teeth and tongue work for a moment at the complicated clasp that secured her gown in place, then undo it. She was expecting it when he grabbed her hip and threw her around, making only a token resistance to it that he barely seemed to notice. Wrists still pinned above her head, her arms were crossed over her face now, falling over her eyes and leaving only nose and mouth uncovered. She stopped trying to escape. Only tried to breath.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: Selina chuckles almost with a growling quality, moving back one pace, the sound low and throaty. "He's going to eat you, Iria dear."
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| − | | |
| − | "He's going to eat you all up." Her tone is the same as before, but also a bit self-satisfied. Afterall, it was by virtue of her presence and actions that this is happening.
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| − | | |
| − | She purses her lips in appreciation, listening to the noises coming from directly in front of her. There would have to be light at some point, for sure. Well, she can shed light. And Moon as well, she is sure.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Iria</b>: "No..." Iria whimpered back, shaking her head in denial. But the conviction in her voice was a poor lie that hid none of the excitement churning inside her. She knew what that damn woman was saying was true and it made her shudder violently, the door rattling behind her. He was going to devour her, totally and completely. And she couldn't do anything to stop him. And Selina? She was going to watch. "You bitch... you made this happen... you winged <i>bitch</i>...!"
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| − | | |
| − | Further insults were cut off as Moon closed his mouth over hers and kissed her deeply. It was possessive and hungry, as if he were trying swallow her whole in that one kiss alone. Iria groaned into his mouth in protest, even as her tongue thrashed against him and teeth tried to bite need fully to his lip. He released her mouth and started moving down, teeth clamping onto the front of her dress and peeling the clinging silk slowly of her breasts, the sudden exposure to the air of the room making them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | There was light in the room again, she could see it out from under her arms. The faintest silver glow, radiating off the man beside her. It was only enough to outline the Lunar and the Abyssal beside him. To color her in silver and black, him in reddish-browns. They were like dreams... or nightmares. Half-formed, eyes glowing with malicious glee and inhuman desire. In one way or another, the image of them both in that half-lit room would haunt Iria for the rest of her life, nearly as much as the rest of the night.
| |
| − | | |
| − | He let go of her wrists as the same moment he let go of the collar of her dress, but she kept her arms where the were and pretended they were still pinned. Wanting them to be. Another shiver passed her as she felt him begin to nuzzle under the hem of her skirt, felt him press his face roughly against her thighs, forcing her feet to spread apart slowly.
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| − | | |
| − | "Stop it!" She shouted at him, but it was still a lie. All thoughts of Tioman. All feelings of guilt. All hesitations. Everything was gone. In the darkness, there was only Iria, the animal that was devouring her inch by inch, and the dark beast that watched it happen in delight. This was what she wanted... what that damned Windian had tempted her with... filled her thoughts with... to be overwhelmed. Consumed. It was terrifying. It was thrilling.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: "Fair is fair, my dear." Selina replies with a hint of lust-saturated dignity. She moves her face back up to Iria's once more, that hot breath coming out against the Captain's. "Your man's thrill for mines. I saw its genesis that day..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Her hands ache to touch the other woman. Her entire body does, to press against her and feel her shiver and shudder as Moon pleases her. To feel her mate's attentions attenuated through the flesh of another. It had felt like that for Iria when Tiomen had her, hadn't it? Those eyes are darkness...and then her castemark appears, casting a black light that somehow illuminates along with the eyes.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Iria</b>: Fair? How could this be fair? Iria whimpered softly as she felt Moon pull aside the lacy violet under garments she'd worn for her husband and the Dark Angel. Pull them aside despite how damply they were plastered to her without even using his hands. Those were cupped under her breasts, rolling them together. She was begging him not to, begging him to stop even as she leaned back against the door for balance, even as she lifted her leg and slid it over his shoulder. He tortured her with teasing, slow and methodically tormenting her. Breathing on her hotly. Brushing his lips against her. Sliding only the tip of his tongue against her. Tears trickled down her face in frustration.
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| − | | |
| − | She and Tioman had treated her like an equal in bed. They had made love to her. This was not making love and she was anything but an equal in it. And somehow that was making it all the better.
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| − | | |
| − | The tears on Iria's cheeks smeared with the motions of her arms, mingled with a sheen of sweat that made her face glisten in the mismatched lights both Exalts were giving off. She looked at the woman close to her, Selina's face accentuated in the dark-light from that damning mark on her brow. Sign of the Beast, a different sort of damnation than the mark Iria knew lurked on the Windians belly implied. The caste mark so much more profane, so much more alluring. She wanted to kiss it, to lap her tongue against the darkness spilling off it. Iria stared into the black depths of Selina's gaze with hooded eyes that roiled in desire. Her lips trembled, her tongue running over them. Expectantly. Invitingly.
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| − | | |
| − | Then her head rocked back with an almost choking gasp. Iria's nails clawed into the door, scratching the finish off the wood. Bellow the immodest skirt, Moon's face had finally begun to move in a familiar, rhythmic fashion. A rumble rose from under the silk, something pleased and darkly amused.
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| − | | |
| − | <b>Selina de Windia</b>: She really shouldn't kiss her, Selina thought with some displeasure. Wouldn't that be cutting in on Moon's fun?
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>He already did.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | <i>And his mouth is busy somewhere else, silly.</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>When he puts her on his lap, he can kiss her again.</i>
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| − | | |
| − | But she did want it, the angel of sin decided. Her and Iria both. So she did it, waited for Iria's head to move back down, and caught her in a kiss. A quickly ended kiss, lips sliding down to her neck. And then down her chest, between her breasts as the Windian bent a bit. And further down, to her navel. Giggling wickedly, eyes shining that darkness as she looked up at the woman, Selina kissed her on that spot. Alot of people were ticklish there.
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| − | | |
| − | Her tongue flickered against it, silken-gloved hands steadying the woman as she worked the kisses back up, slowly. Coming up the ribs -- off-center this time -- to the bottom curve of a breast. Eyes those of a predator experienced in running down this sort of prey.
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| − | | |
| − | Afterall, this would be a <i>very</i> long night. And this prey would go down with alot of thrashing and struggle.
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| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | ----
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| − | | |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/FifthMovement|Fifth Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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