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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| 24 hour Challenge; - Church, Aguirre, Sawyer - | |
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| Topic Started: Sunday, 8. December 2013, 21:25 (1,429 Views) | |
| Mac | Tuesday, 14. January 2014, 16:43 Post #21 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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Starting slow could be a tremendous thing, the playful taunting simply mean that whatever came later was built up to, desired, wanted. God damn if he didn't know how to make her want him so easy, like string he could so easily begin tying in a cluster of sexually charged knots, knots only his hands and body were capable of releasing. His hands setting into her skin, tightening and pushing deep into the muscled expanse oh her hips and belly. Was it wrong she just wanted to enjoy that a moment? Enjoy the feeling of blood vessels popping under his touch, tissue grinding, sweet little rushes of warmth and wanting shooting through her. When they first began this psychotic tango she had been a lot more wary, almost trying to mind each gasp and moan, resist them. Now she didn't even bother covering up the way he affected her, she got more out of what they did than he did she was sure. The ability to come again and again, the sweet bliss of sleeping so hard after a good night that not even nightmares bothered her. She could at least show him exactly how much she wanted him, all the god damned time. "Fuckin...addiction" He said through snarled teeth, the words echoing her own thoughts. Who was addicted to who here though? She'd never been so stupid for anyone, not even Marco. Her stupid for Marco was entirely different, her stupid for Church was pretty much her own stupid... That basic bit of a bond still there, but somehow not so angsted at anymore. Maybe on some mental level, battling it out with her deeply seeded hate, it was comfort. Hazey brown eyes pretty much begged for him, all the while keeping her grip in his hair tight to prevent him from leaning in further. She wanted him to of course, but she wanted him to fight for it. His words about making her scream hitched we breath in her throat, lazily grinning back at him with a look that said "Your my favorite thing." Then he was biting through his tongue, and all her comfort and wanting melted into a confused Pitt of Hunger and fear. Her hand tightened even further, if that was possible, and she wrenched to try and straighten his arm and send him back from her to arms length. What the fuck did he just do? Oh that was fair game for her, who's blood didn't hold a soul binding spell over him... What a mother fucker. Thank god hunting was lucrative in post earth quake Camden, or she'd be a hell of a lot hungrier when she looked at that pretty, slightly lop sided mouth of his. Red... Red with the blood she hadn't had since that first time they'd met, when he'd 'assisted' her ass out of Brent's ditches. God she wanted it, wanted to lean in and let her tongue slide across his, taste him again. Let their blood dance together on tongues and bodies melt into one. The house probably wouldn't be standing if they fucked while bonding... Aguirre would certainly not like coming come to a torn pages and books sloshed about, missing walls and broken couches. Her heart felt like someone had doused a bucket of ice into it, blood running cold as she had to force herself to stay still. Not leap on that offering, maybe even frightened a little because she could almost consider it. Would it be so bad? Being his fair and square? She could stop being so afraid of the Cammies finding out, cuz she'd have a proper owner whom she could just point to and say "nah nah nah! Domain bitches!" And wouldn't have to be worried about Sawyer catchin her independence. But then, she'd lose her independence. Who would she be without that? Old Mac? Marco's kitten? "What the fuck is wrong with you? You think that's funny?" Brown eyes blazed with a sense of near betrayal. She'd come so far, began -trusting- him and he was playing Sabbat teasing games now? "Tell me how I make you -feel-, got me all up in your mind... Wanting... Then what, try and bond me to you? Cuz the fact I'd already rather spend my time with you than in a bar startin fights isn't enough? Cuz I walk around with you on the brain, hoping, waiting for the next time we slide in close and I get to feel you next to me, rock hard and Icy and all bliss, isn't enough?" She'd try and get a knee up if she could, if her storm of words left him open enough to knee him in the gut good and hard. She hoped so, she needed the feel of his meaty body reeling back from a good hard thrust, and not the sexy kind of thrust either. She wouldn't however, let go of her handful of hair. That was a point she was going to make damnit, once and for fucking all. So she never had to do this stupid shit again. "You want pet Mac? More than I am already? You know... What I did for Marco Damon? Toddlers. Infants. That was his thing. That's what I dream about. And I fucking fed them to him... He taught me pure obedience on the bond. You want a submissive, obedient little kitten like he did?" Her words weren't quite the venom they could be, instead, the rage was broken by the softest hint of disappointment. She's thought she'd found... Well, whatever she thought she was wrong right? "Want me to peel my eyes out and crawl across the floor for you? Give them to you like two little gum balls while my face pours blood down my body, while I slip in it? That's what the Bond does to a psychopath like me church...I... I can't fucking fight it either. First step? Yeah, that shits old hat. He'll, I can even deal with two steps sometimes... But for you? When I actually got something there already? I'd lose whatever fragments I still got of my god damned soul you mother fucker... And it's all I got." She let go of his hair, a sudden and soft movement. She'd said her piece. She then motioned to her face with her now free hand, eyes blazing and lips pulled back in a half snarl. "You want that? Then kiss me mother fucker. Let me see who you really are..." Still god damned Dark side right? Fuck her for ever thinkin different. God, fuck the weed for making her so baked her tongue was flapping around too. Jesus. Edited by Mac, Tuesday, 14. January 2014, 16:44.
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| Church | Tuesday, 14. January 2014, 20:23 Post #22 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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I realise all too soon what I just did, what kind of fucked up message I'm sending, as her heart takes an even heavier and more frantic rhythm to accompany her boiling blood. But even so, she eyes it with hunger and intrigue, and I already know she's craving it. I...do I let her? It seems wrong. Seems like something we've already talked out and decided that it would be bad, that it would be potentially deadly for one of us. Something wants me to do it though. To just...slip away from sensibility, to take what I want, to use her how I want. Don't think, just do. Don't give her a choice in the matter. Ram your fucking tongue down her throat and force her to drink it, force her to love you. No... She's wise enough to pull me back, and the manner of which is far from playful. The sting that runs down my neck, it doesn't break the stupid rules because there's nothing attractive about it. Nor is there anything to find in her eyes but shame and disappointment. What is this? What the fuck is wrong with you?Where do I start, or do you want a list? You think this is funny No, baby, I...I don't know what I'm doing. Tell me how I make you -feel-, got me all up in your mind... Wanting... Then what, try and bond me to you? No. No, no, no I don't want... Cuz the fact I'd already rather spend my time with you than in a bar startin fights isn't enough? Cuz I walk around with you on the brain, hoping, waiting for the next time we slide in close and I get to feel you next to me, rock hard and Icy and all bliss, isn't enough? I blink. It's all I can do. I can't even process what she said with this disgusting feeling welling in my stomach. Self loathing, regret, a desire to be punished for being such a stupid asshole. To have her vocalize feeling in such a way for me, as obsessed with me as I am with her. It makes this that much worse, makes me realize what a fucking moron I am all that more. As I stare her glare, angry and confused, she gives me a taster. The knee is sobering, an icy cold reminder that her thick skin can easily be cut if you use the right sort of blade, and I happened to pull it out at the wrong place and time. I double over, head still being jerked around by whatever whim she may have, and growling through the pain I look at her again. The blood on her lips fails to even register now. As far as I'm concerned, that dumb ass bet is over. I got disqualified. "No, baby, please..." A pet Mac? No baby, you're nobodies pet. I don't want you to ever have to go back to that, girl. I'll never let that happen, not to you, not by me or anyone else. Oh Jebus fucking christ, what he did, no-one is ever gonna do to you again. Hell, if that psycho was still alive, I'd tear him to pieces for you, girl. I'd do anything to make you smile, make you forget what happened and make you happy. Not this. Not open those wounds. Hers and mine. I think back...back to a time I was a brother. Me and Victor looking after the lodge, looking after the blood dolls, handing them over to sick and demented fuckers on the condition they come back in one piece. The death toll was...acceptable. That's what Vic would tell me, it's acceptable, that we can find more, that pimping ain't easy. She could've easily wound up there, one of the girls who served the purpose of being used and abused. I could've been Marko to her, just like I was for other girls. Dead girls. But this? Of course not. I don't want her to bend the knee, become a puppet. She wouldn't be her then, and I wouldn't want her in the same way I do today. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I dunno what I was thinkin', I'm-" What is there to say? In this weak pathetic tone, full of doubts and anger at myself. "I'd be lying if I didn't want you to want me an' only me. Cause I don't want no-body else, Mac. I want you, just the way you are, just the way I-" Fuck. I back away from her, a hand on my head yanking my own fucking hair for being so stupid. "I...I wouldn't do that to you." I don't wanna kiss her. I suck whatever fluid is in my mouth, clamping it shut so I don't show anymore of it off, try and somehow seal the smell within. "No I'm not like that. I'm not him. I'm not J...I'm not Marko. I'm nothing like him. I-I won't let it get to that." Fuck. I tremble a little as my back collides with the opposite wall, not aware that I continued to back away at a snail's pace. What have I done? What can I do? I plead with my eyes, beg for forgiveness with the hurt that fills them. I'd drop to my knees and do it, but, that might just bring back memories of obedience and slavery. God damn if I ain't just given us the best chance to make it twenty three and a bit hours without fucking...but lord am I jonze-ing for something. A drink garnished with enough chemicals to numb me to this terrible feeling I have. Don't let him out. Don't let the junkie out. Cause he's even worse...and he would do those terrible things to her. "I'd never hurt you Mac. Pain is one thing but...insulting you, cause that's what that was...I'm sorry. I should've known better. I ain't a fucking Sabbat dog. Not anymore. I'm not." Who are you trying to convince? |
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| Mac | Tuesday, 14. January 2014, 22:22 Post #23 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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There was that petrifying moment as she looked at him, where she could read his thoughts nearly. See the way he wanted to do it, wanted to answer her horrific invitation by doing just that, kissing her. There was a desperate little part of her that wanted it too, the part that missed the simplicity of having that one thing you'd risk your life for. Having such an important, all encompassing world of importance in the face of someone you loved with every fibre of your being. Never stop thinking about them, wanting them, chasing them.... A mirror, they smile and you smile. Sell yourself off bit by bit to make them happy, because their happiness was yours. Their dreams come true were your dreams come true. But she knew that mirror was one way glass, and the image it reflected was a photoshop of the truth. Air brushed and pretty, even the most horrible scum could be warped into something beautiful. The knee was good, it gave her back a bit of herself. Her fire, her resolution. She did love to hurt him, she just wished he hadn't hurt her different first. They had been doing so well, tip toeing, playing the safety of distance with their minds by simply fucking with their bodies. Now she wanted to break his body, break his face, pop out those pretty green eyes like she'd have done for him... Smash them under her socked feet, feel the burst of bloody liquid as she removed the part of him that seemed to fuck her up so much. She had to look away from him, before she did just that... before she launched herself at him and carved those beautiful peepers out of his skin while monologuing about how the eyes were the window to the soul. If they were, obviously he didn't need them as he didn't have a one right? Take them out so people could look inside and see the barren expanse of nothing inside a dead Fanger's animated corpse. She didn't want to think that about him. Not like that, not anymore... but god damned if she wasn't a raging pit of anger and ...something else, something she didn't really have a word for. Something grey and slimey and cold clinging to her insides. She needed to get the fuck out of there, run away as fast as she could before this shit got anymore real or weirder. Before her mouth opened up and all that crap at the back of her mind spilled out, the shit she didn't know how to deal with once it was on the floor and everyone could see it. "No, baby, please..." The pleading in his tone didn't make her look up, it made her fix her eyes on his slowly shifting feet as he backed away. Thats right fucker, back the fuck off before you lose your head. She was glad he wasn't stepping in, trying to answer her telling him to kiss her. Thank god... Thank god... Cuz she might have let him, and it would have broken whatever was actually beneath that bond. "I'd be lying if I didn't want you to want me an' only me. Cause I don't want no-body else, Mac. I want you, just the way you are, just the way I-" His stumbling words made her look up briefly, hands shifting into knots at her sides, taking up handfuls of jeans and causing the fabric to tear away further at those points that had been created to access her harness. She wasn't wearing it... She'd stopped wearing it. She wasn't entirely unarmed, but she wasn't armed to the teeth anymore. She thought she hadn't needed to... The mental melt down at her own stupidity for that was laughable, all her different selves in arguement with each other inside her head. Easy to see why she went so god damned batshit when she was on malk. "I...I wouldn't do that to you." Yeah he would, cuz Fangers are Fangers right? It was bullshit to ever think otherwise. “I ain't a fucking Sabbat dog. Not anymore. I'm not." What was she supposed to say to that? Chest all tight, those sexual knots he's started twisting in her earlier rotting into knots of horror and frusteration. She didn't know what to do, what the fuck had just happened? God damnit, she nearly had something...good. She nearly had something decent in her life and here it was all going to shit again. Cuz everything she touched went to shit in the end didn't it? This strange little family was way to much to ask for, and she should have known that at the beginning. Instead, she'd gone stupid for a Fanger. The sentiment crossing her mind made her laugh briefly, a quiet chirp almost as her chest heaved with the weight of her mind. She could almost cry, except she'd pretty much forgotten how that shit worked anymore. Fucking weed, making her so.. sentimental and feelsy. “ It's tempting Doc, it's so... god damned tempting. The desire to do it... You say you don't want no one else... You want me to want you, and only you?” This was a strange ocean she was drowning in, and the words didn't feel right in her mouth. She wasn't sure what to do with them, how to arrange them, what to do with all of that chaos and hurt. Was he pulling shit right now? Was that hurt and horror in his voice and eyes sincere, or was he just trying to make her feel worse about it? It hurt to see it there, to imagine it was real. He knew he'd fucked up right? Sure looked like it. While part of her rejoiced in that sadistic sort of glee, happy to think it had done it's job and actually made him realize what the fuck he was playing at? Part of her didn't like that puppy dog expression, or the fact it made her insides panick and want to expunge something to stop it. They tore each other to pieces physically to make each other feel good, they didn't need to tear it up inside to do the opposite. Hard words of anger on her tongue choked away, replaced. “Look around you...Who am I here with, taking part in a ... stupid ass bet? You'd think I'd do this non sense with anyone else? I do want you, and only you... But I don't need a bond to tell me that, because the bond would make it ... not so true. You've got Mac, and all of Mac... without the fake voodoo. Aint that better? Harder yeah... cuz I can't have you in all the ways I'd like, but better...” Edited by Mac, Tuesday, 14. January 2014, 22:23.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Wednesday, 15. January 2014, 03:29 Post #24 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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This fucking stupid game I don't even give a fuck about...what the hell has it led to? I was gonna crack, I already had that towel thrown in. I'm pissed, for the first time in a long while. Embarassed and ashamed of what shit I just tried pulling. In the need to kill something. Not fight, kill. Something that only tearing a head off could truly satisfy. That's how good she is for me, she takes it all away, absorbs all my aggression and loves every ounce of my frustration being taken out on that sweet body. She's gave me a chance and it ended up being worth it, till I go and screw things. 'It's fucked Mac, it is. I'm fucked. I just wanna please you baby, I ain't never lied about that. I...I'm a real piece of shit. A wretched thing. Something inside me just wants you to want me more. So it feels that much better, honey. I'm crazy for you, Mac. Hearing you cry out and I see gratitude in your eyes. Your body grindin' on mine? Someone wild enough to get on top of me for a change? I'm alive baby. But this sinful livin' we do so fuckin' well, it don't fuckin' mix with that dark pact shit. I know that alright? I know I'm a fucking jerk off.' But I don't tell her that. I wanna tell her that I understand. Well, understand that I won't insult her by pretending to understand, as much sense as that makes. Cause thinking like that and then opening my mouth is not a good thing. I know that Marko was a dick. That killing him didn't make anything better, that she was still a pet for a fucking sick cunt and did...it's horrible. In the truest sense of that word, she was enslaved and stripped of any innocence or hope or joy that could've been. That regardless of how much a benevolent master I would be, she could never trust a fanger. Rightly so. And maybe what's terrifying for is the fact that the only way to stop to feeling would be with an axe through my neck. Would she do that to me? She could run, at any fucking moment she could get out of this whack job city. I just...don't want her leaving me with the normal people. "Don't misunderstand me. I know it can't happen. I'm a fuckin' moron alright? Maybe I was sick enough to do it just to get a smack for trying." The anger shows, the loathing I have for myself, the desire for that loathing to be released in a glorious shower of violence. It's as good a theory as anything else. Ultimately the fucked up brain is to blame for thinking it was acceptable, and nothing is an excuse good enough to even make feel less shameful about it. "And I'm glad at least one of us can say no." I continue, albeit quieter. I suddenly feel, well, naked - and not just from the lack of shirt. "This is why...I need to keep my mouth shut." I finish my lunatic train of thought. Done. Fuck it. It's only gonna make this hole deeper. I shake my head and let my gaze drift back to hers, cause for the most part there I was too fucking disgusted to. What the hell happens now? "I wanna be your pet, Mac. Not th'other way 'round. I just wanna make you scream..." I whine like a moping dog as I take a fucked up stab at what would be our imbalanced alternative to romance. I just wanna get on my knees and worship her, make up for being such a fucking retard all the time. So much for keeping my mouth shut. |
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| Mac | Wednesday, 15. January 2014, 17:15 Post #25 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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He was happy one of them could say? God damn, so was she. She wasn't sure she could at that first burst of beautiful red from his tongue, and she still wasn't sure that she wouldn't have been happy being a Church kitten... But she wouldn't have been her, and they wouldn't be them. "I can say no baby...and to me, that defines us. We'd slide right into that dark world if we couldn't look each other in the face and tell the other they're a fucking idiot." There was this horrible thing in the air, thick like oil in the space that separated them. Her near against the wall to Aguirre's room, him on the opposite one clinging like it was a lifeline. Like the wall was somehow holding him up and on his feet, His posture all broken and his face so god damned pitiful. She didn't like it. Whatever the fuck was brooding around them was the remnants of their sick and twisted pasts, reminds that shadowed and haunted. "This is why...I need to keep my mouth shut." She didn't know what to do, the need to run and escape the air of strangulation was nearly overwhelming on her senses. Black was fading in, reaching like inky tendrils to creep between them, like a the darkness that symbolized their past was filling their spaces. Or her spaces, her head all disjointed. She was still so mad, even thought he'd apologized and apologized. Anger came so easy to her, it was like a go to emotion. If anything else came up, but she had the chance to twist it to rage, she always took the option. It was so much easier. "I wanna be your pet, Mac. Not th'other way 'round. I just wanna make you scream..." It was to much, to strange. All the mix up inside at his words, the way he made her feel, the weed in her system enabling those responses she normally was a lot more dead too. Panic. The need to run... And her feet were moving. Taking purchase through her plain black socks, gripping the carpet and pushing off on her toes. She was moving like that...the air cool on her skin, aware of the larger air movement through her ripped jeans, heart a heavy drumming that thundered up and into her ears. But she wasn't moving to the door, she was leaping at Church. She had two options, run away, or run to the problem. She went to the problem... Just, not so gentley. She went to the issue with a fist flying for his face, because she'd never get enough of seeing him all purple around the eyes. Green and purple were beautiful together weren't they? And with his strangeness, she couldn't help but look at him like the joker sometimes. They were nuts after all, the joker and Harley Quinn. She'd then try and grab both sides of his face, not so gentley either, And move up on tip toe to look at him with blazing brown eyes. She wanted to hug him, but she didn't know what the fuck a hug was anymore really. Didn't know how to do it, so this was the best she could do, force him to look at her big brown eyes while she spoke. "I don't want no Pet Fanger Church...pets are boring. I want my Doc. Cuz as much as I like you kickin the shit out of me, I've sort of become a fan of the time you spend puttin me back together after..." Resetting bones, popping shoulders and hips things back into the socket, licking small lacerations closed... Making her bacon. She liked it all. "Now... What do we got around here for you to wash that mouth out with hmmm?" That same head tilt she'd offered in the shower so long ago, slight neck exposed by it. Temptation, living and breathing with a wild fluttering heart trapped in it's chest. Shit was getting to crazy, they needed to being it back to what they were good at. Baby steps with all that normal people emotional shit, tiny ones... Cuz she couldn't swim in that ocean. She'd drown. Edited by Mac, Wednesday, 15. January 2014, 17:17.
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| Church | Thursday, 16. January 2014, 19:28 Post #26 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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So what now? I sulk like the scolded dog in the corner, hang my head in shame and get all pouty till she ups and leaves? It's a good plan, or at least it prevents me from making an even bigger jackass of myself than I already have. And when she leaves? Oh I'll probably waltz into the front room, sit my ass down...realise what the fuck I just did and smash the shit out of the place. Oh, that mature - that's what you're thinking ain't it? But you think I give a fuck about anyone's god damn opinion? Cause I do...I really, really do. I hear the movement, the ruffle of her jeans, a pocket of wind brushing my face before-Fuck! "Aaow" I slur while my head spins, the world isn't as clear and level as it should be. Damn she's good. Too good. Once upon a time I told her she was too good to be true and fuck, am I ever wrong? Evidently she's got the brains here, having worded things so well with such ease. Pets are boring. I wouldn't say that, but eventually, that kid with the puppy at christmas gets bored with it. They become too familiar with each other, the master makes the slave obey precisely how they want. Mac's appeal comes from that craziness, that unpredictability, that even if I can atone and become a grumpy old man I will still have some means of releasing steam. I wanna thank her for that, but I won't tell her that though, wont thank her for having mercy for a wretch like me. Cause however uncomfortable I feel right now under her unwavering doe eyed stare, It burns away that shame and demands something else. She doesn't want a moping, self-pitying, stupid son of'a bitch. I gotta agree. Let's get things back to normalcy, back in our comfort zone. So when she asks what we have readily on hand to clean out the taboo from my mouth and my lips twitch into the slightest smile. Oh, Mac. Whatever guilt I feel right now, reluctance to touch her after damaging her trust in me so...it's gone. Maybe that's just the effect Mac has on people, but lord, I know I'll be in more trouble if I acted like it. She wants her man, her Doc, firing on all cylinders as ever. I can't kill her with kindness, but I can be kind by killing her. It's a loving gesture to do when the person craves it, right? My hands may be slow in taking hold of her, but they're certainly not gentle. One cups the back of her neck, an action that is mainly driven by instinct, to ensure that she does not struggle or break away. The other returns to position in the small of her back, not able to grasp, rather press hard that it might drive us back together into the naked mass of writhing arms and legs known as March. Or Chuc? Would you look at that, back to my airheaded ways almost as quickly as one of those heartbeats of hers, smitten with the absolute fucking animal tip-toeing up to my height. Don't get me wrong, as stupid as she can make me feel, there's still anger reverberating through me. I just gotta not get upset. Just gotta channel it the right way. "Yeah...I guess I could use a dose of sense. An' I guess you win. Emphatically." Jeez that's a big word Church, do you even know what it means? I think so, but I get the point. Mouth shut. Only to be opened when latching on for sweet goodness. I wanna bite, lord when do I not, but I need to make her know she can trust me, that I am sorry...and that I'm too damn good to leave. How? I shift my hand at the back of her neck to the throat, pushing gently, not choking her (yet) but motioning for her to get against that wall. And that if she doesn't, I might give her a smack back. I think that, but, I'm sure my eyes are saying something different. They're begging for forgiveness and trust, cause I only wanna sweep this lady off her feet. Send her to heaven and back, even if it's only for a few seconds at a time. "I don't wanna end up too clean, though." I release her throat, let the whole arm wrap around her to lean against the wall and support her head doing so. I lean in to her throat...I mimic a move from earlier, tracing my cool, dumb tongue up the length of it to let her know how very thankful I am. Like how a dog kiss, right? I want her legs around me again, want to lift her off the floor, lift her above even me as I chow down on that blood/vodka. I don't do it straight away, in true jerk off fashion I take a moment to pull away for a second, shoot her a look one moment longer, still praying that she can trust me to make her feel. And then I'm gone. In the blink of an eye my teeth have found their home along that long, exposed keg of a neck. And everything can go fuck itself as all my senses die out one by one. All but taste...and satisfaction. |
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| Mac | Friday, 17. January 2014, 01:42 Post #27 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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There was a moment of somber eye contact, when he'd peeled up from being struck to stare at her face. She could read everything there, his puppy expression raw and hurt. Who had hurt whom here? Why did she feel bad, when it was him that had pulled the dick move? She didn't really understand why she felt that way, was it because of that little bit of a bond they did share? Was she mirroring his emotional state? It didn't feel like it, it felt... different. Confusing. She wanted his hurt to stop. When that first hint of a smile hit his face, she couldn't help but gain a little of her own as well, watching the light in those green eyes catch and start to burn. She begged him with her eyes, to simply let it go, let what just happened between them wash away to create a better right now. Water under the bridge right? Wasn't like she didn't do stupid shit too, she was sure she'd do something in the future to warrant needing to beg his forgiveness. She was as much of a fuck up, if not more, than he was. Please just touch me, please. It's wrong not too, make me forget. Just take it back to what I love about us, take it back to screams and whimpers and laughter. His hand sliding up around her neck was welcome, mirrored in the flaring of thankfulness in her expression. The grip firming, hardening into a demand of control that she instantly wanted to fight against. Forever resist. A shrugging of her shoulders and neck like a half hearted attempt at escape, just to say that she could. It was part of the fun. She breathed in sharp and quick at that first touch, like letting him know how much she wanted it, expected it, needed it. His other hand around her waist, tucking into her lower back to pull her up to him hard and needy. She doubted he could need her as much as she needed him then, to wash away the still small and panicked thing in the back of her mind. Sooth the fear and rage and craft it into something so much better. His hand shifted on her throat, sliding around to grip in the beginnings of a choke. He was guiding her, shifting her against the wall. One hand came up to grip his wrist in the shift, not pushing or fighting it but simply wanting the contact with him, the other sliding with its heated touch to drift down to the jeans he was still wearing, sliding along his bare chest and stomach to tangle into the waist and tug hard. Brown eyes saying what she could not, that she still wanted him in the best and worst ways. "I don't wanna end up too clean, though." Good. It made her grin, a small laugh offered as he slipped his arm to slide behind her and cradle her, her hand on his wrist slipping to slide under his arm and up his back, to take a gripping hold on his thick and meaty shoulder. The first movement of his lips to her neck made her sigh, heart fluttering expectantly. His tongue was ice and wonders on her skin, and she felt some of that grey slime on her insides melt at the intimacy of the touch. It was all very gentle for them, slow, but she caught the meaning in his eyes as he paused to look at her one last time. “Please...” She'd tip her head up a little more, a feeling like cool water dripping opposite the demands of gravity, licking up her spine as she spoke. Eerie words, strange words in her mouth. Uncontrollable want, blissful overwhelming, thoughtless waves of wonder... His fangs where they belonged, in her skin, her blood where it belonged, sliding down that throat. Her hand copied his from earlier, letting go of his pants to slide up to his throat and take a good and proper grip. She wasn't entirely stopping him from feeding, but with her fingers lacing in tightly she was damn well going to control his feed and make him take it slow. He probably would anyways, but she simply... wanted to let him know how much she loved it, by making it go on forever, and not letting him get to soppy and gentle about it. Her body responded like she always did, skin beginning a slow shine of perspiration as her heart hammered away in her chest. Her fingers in his shoulder gripped tighter, nails beginning to bite down into the flesh as she pulled herself up against him. He was bracing them against the wall, she didn't need her feet on the floor. She needed her legs around his waist, so she could arch against him and drive herself against him in a teenager style mockery of sex. Edited by Mac, Friday, 17. January 2014, 01:55.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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| Church | Monday, 20. January 2014, 17:19 Post #28 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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It never gets old, and I'll never lose a taste for her. It's my favourite meal now. She's my favourite god damned everything. Her pleading leaves me desperate, takes me back to the rare occasion where I could find a tweaker when I was fixing to let the world melt away. It's a miracle I don't shake and tremble for those few agonizing moments before finally having her in the best of positions. But I sink in and let our bodies mesh to one another, clash together like fire and ice, her body running on the hot manner I'm so used to and so comforting to leech away. I may not be able to see much, even if my eyes weren't closed to savour the moment all that better. Boy can I feel that tantalizing grind that lets me know she is ready and willing to spend another night taking one another apart. Fuck if I don't reciprocate in kind, and push myself into her like my basic instincts are too stupid to realise I ain't able to get balls deep. My fingers grate into the wall behind her as they curl into a fist to somehow brace better for this intense meal, all the while I hoist her straddling form a touch higher to get easier nibbling access. Not that this is nibbling. Man I wish she could bite me back. She don't need fangs or nothing, but if she ain't drawing blood why the fuck bother? Her nails are one of the few things I can actually feel in through this haze, this glorious fucking moment always takes me somewhere else. Almost makes me feel acceptable as a monster in the night and feeding the horrid fucking thing that lives inside me a positive thing. Her nails are fucking vicious, but can't get deep enough. Can't hope to scratch the itch that takes hours of sweat, blood and unsanitary violation that only she can weather with me. And makes so damned good. I didn't realise that my hand got twisted in the back of her vest, and somehow the fabric managed to get torn...How'd that happen? Might have something to do with the choking, with the sort of teasing and frustrating that this bitch has got patented. I can only ingest blood at such a suppressed rate, a hand on the throat is usually something that is met with a fist to the jaw, but lord knows I'm happy to let these heavenly moments drag on in relative silence. All but her breathing and her pumping heart. The heart more than anything, cause no matter what the hell we do to each other behind closed doors, it don't compare to how very close I feel to her right now. That pulse is so damned strong I could believe it was my own. "Let's never not fuck each other again-" Fuck can I not keep quiet? I feel so damn strong about that statement that I manage to get it out in a hushed and wanting tone before sealing the holes with my wet tongue. I drink relatively little considering, but being as I woke up with a full belly, I wanna leave some room for dessert. At least until she beats me so bad I gotta "Please . Pretty please." It was dumb from the start, we both knew that, and I think I'd rather lose straight away than have the shit crop up again cause it was a 'good idea.' Like she'd ever think that. We do need to try doing something different, cause damned if she don't mean more to me than I'd like. A fuck toy, sure, but the best fuck toy ever. All without being able to munch on me in return. What I realise is that it might be worth to try and get some bonding time after we've blazed through our natural reaction to one another. We're certainly more agreeable when we've managed to satisfy our substantial appetites, however brief that sated feeling may be. I blame her, and her fear of things getting 'adorable.' I have no such fear. Primarily because of the mouth. "I like stoner Mac. I like dirty bitch Mac more." I growl, not relinquishing her from me without a fight. I can just about manage to resist the urge to pin her ass to the floor and fuck her in two. "How 'bout we give this a go...another time." Either she agrees or gets a smack. She'd get a hell of a smack. Then I'd ask her again...with a 'please.' |
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| Mac | Tuesday, 21. January 2014, 01:42 Post #29 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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She wasn't in the apartment anymore, she wasn't in Einfeld or even London. She was somewhere else entirely, somewhere fiery and hell like with it's blissful warmth, to her it felt like heaven. She burned beneath his fangs, between the pressure of his body wrapped around her so tightly. She heard the bit of wall dent beneath his grip behind them, his grappling body so tight around her she wondered if he wasn't trying to breech the seams of their body and bind them together despite the clothing that limited their contact. God, she loved it. This small little teaser, the sound of her shirt being torn under his grip, a soft (and for them) incredibley gentle promise of a what would be a beautiful night ahead. Her heat slowly warming him, his cool bringing her raging temperature down and soothing the beastly creature within. How the fuck did she ever function before him? How did she not burn up from all that resentment and rage? This is was what let them get through the daily grind, this is what let them remain level headed in the situations that otherwise would leave them exploding with anger and rage and beastly sadism. Here, they could let it out and bath in the joy of it. He was like a lullaby, pacifying through violence. Her blood slowly drawn into his mouth, down that throat her long fingers tightly gripped. She could feel each swallow, every little undulation of his throat against her hand. It was... Beautiful. Here he was, getting her addicted to him without blood. Restoring that trust, Proving it again, that he didn't need to -tame- her, he just wanted to ride through the night together. He treated her body like a fucking alter, worshipping her through loving torture. She never wanted that to stop, had she ever craved anything this much? As much as she wanted to carve him open and climb inside his cool embrace? Wanted him to do the same to her? Loved the sound of his mouth working at her throat, the way his grinding hips against hers made them feel like it would pop her hips out of the socket with their pressure. The sweet thrilling ripple that washed through her ended like a tidal wave cresting on a shore far away, the glory of his fangs and lips slipping away from her flesh as he whispered against her. Oh yeah, they were somewhere weren't they? The apartment... His apartment. She bled a moment while he spoke in that husky hushed murmur, making the small welling of blood chill against her neck before he licked it clean and closed. She laughed, chest vibrating with it's quiet offering as she agreed without words. Yeah, it sucked trying to be something not themselves. Maybe there would be time for hobbies after they finished with each other? She couldn't want him this bad forever right? ... That's what she'd thought ages ago. Still, she wasn't even close to bored of him yet. "Another time, really, really far away from now...." Her nails in his shoulder relaxed, although her legs around his waist stayed wrapped and tight like a python. Her hands were seeking both sides of his face again, the one on his throat loosening and skinning upwards with a blazing touch. "Right now stoner Mac wants to see how clean that dirty mouth of yours could possibly be.... " She leaned her head in to his, brushing a heated cheek to his cool flesh purposely before tipping up so her lips whispered, light and ghostly, like butterfly wings beating against his own. "Then dirty bitch Mac wants to see just how much purple I can spread over your body before you can't take anymore.... I think we may get a little... Loud... Got a ball gag?" -Sorry pervs (Yeah, you know who you are....), this scene is closed- |
![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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3:18 PM Jul 11