sulatus.

@Abaddon mainly but anyone is welcome ofc 0:

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[size=xx-small]

the dark damp; the murmur of water, again.[/size]

[size=xx-small]but astarte wakes above the earth and beneath one of the many evergreen boughs of this more southerlying, snow-sown plain. her lips gummed themselves shut, when sleep had taken her; dream-dredges leaving her to cradle a moment that was no longer there. her lungs fill with the coniferous tang and soothe the piercing brush left behind by the ending of winter. for all the wisp knew, that great, burnished creature from eves before had just been a vision borne of her star-addled mind.[/size]

[size=xx-small]and there is sunlight, now;[/size]
[size=xx-small]and astarte closes her eyes to it, supine. drowsing as the veils of early-ish noon finger through the green-needling curtains, peeking. the fairylight only shies from it, humming; nestling further into her billowing bed of frost. a rabbitsoft paw cards over her ear and onto unmarred cheek. tucking herself back beneath the blankets of last night's snow.[/size]

[size=xx-small]and she does not want to leave.

[/size]
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As the sun peeked over the horizon, his eyes began to burn.

Perhaps it was with the lack of time he had spent in its presence, for him, it was only natural for a vampire to avoid the bright light that caused him nothing but pain. Soon he would have to find a place to rest for the day, away from prying eyes, but he had yet to find such a place here. And he loathed thinking about curling up in the open despite mostly blending in with the snow that still clung to the ground.

So focused on his own needs the boy was oblivious to the other pale one already hidden in the mounds of white in his path, immediately hissing when tripping over whatever it was as he turns around with spite burning in his oculars at the white fluffy thing curled up on the ground. “Pretty bold of you to sleep out in the open like this.” Still the words laced with malice, bitter about the trip she had nearly given him moments ago.

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[size=small][size=medium]

[/size][/size]
[size=small]"out in the open?"[/size]
[size=xx-small]beneath the lyrical notes of her strained chords, her words are a wince; strung tight beneath a dull ache that begins now in her side and grasps unwelcome hands along her spry ribs. her own eyes tear as she peers up at the male who eclipses the seasonal sun — puffy and petulant and now with pouting lips.[/size]

[size=xx-small]lips that cannot resist the tug of an errant, inherent and certainly once-was impishness; until she simpers up at this irate wanderer who seems to promise her a slow death for his own almost-falling. [/size][size=x-small] "as you can see, my darling, i am quite under this tree,"[/size]
[size=xx-small]or, she mostly was, or had been; and the sweet curl of her mouth became a smile with too much teeth.[/size]

[size=small]"i would hope that your pride is not too bruised."[/size]
[size=xx-small]and with as unbothered an air as ever, astarte's chin finds a perch on her paws; eyes glimmering with a slow, drowsy amusement before her lashes promptly flutter shut once more.[/size]

[size=xx-small]oh — something half-heard within her has missed this![/size][size=small]

[/size]
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She dared to talk back to him. After being in his way. “Not nearly out of the way as you may think.” He sang back with the same attitude. If she was not aware, they were in a bloody forest and there were trees everywhere. The woman took a shot at his pride, all smiles and clearly amused by it all despite the unknown danger she may be in.

Although he may not be his father and Abaddon had more control over his rage, even if one was to call it rage as dull as it was being inspected side by side with anyone else; the boy still had teeth and was not opposed to using them if needed be. “I hope your skin isn't black and blue.” He stepped forward, still the sun's light bouncing off the snow irritating his eyes.

It didn't help with his mood either. He wanted shade, a den, a cave, somewhere else than out here in the open. “Although... I'm sure it would compliment your pale figure.” Grimly he cooed sick flattery, sweeping paws through the snow as he approached wondering just how thick her balls must be should she actually, truly wish to play these games.

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[size=xx-small]

[/size]
[size=xx-small]she did; listening to his words with lax ears, and looking once more only when she heard him start to sweep his way towards her. ah.[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=x-small]"i am sure it would,"[/size][size=xx-small] [/size][size=xx-small] stretching, sighing up at him,[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=x-small]"if you're to be the one who'll gift me such a thing."[/size]

[size=xx-small]as he nears her, she sits up slowly, sleepily;[/size]
[size=xx-small]and gazes upon him with a fogged, lurking gleam.[/size]

[size=x-small]"and i'll sing you a pretty song,"[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=xx-small]too-white, her smile,[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=x-small]"to make up for it all." [/size]

[size=xx-small]then, for a moment, her impling eyes have widened in half-innocence; pale lips parting in slack wonder.[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=x-small]"but you wouldn't like that, would you?"[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=xx-small]and then she's simpering once more; the glimpse of fangs teasing the pale seam of her bottom lip; leaning in close for only a heartbeat,[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=x-small]"you hunger for something else,"[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=xx-small]murmuring, coquet,[/size][size=small]  [/size][size=x-small]"don't you, darling?"[/size]

[size=xx-small]and then, astarte left him; drawing away from him and the draw of him. instead, she turns, heading for the evergreen copses that thicken the paths with each step; all at once flushed and fluttery and fillying.[/size]

[size=xx-small]the may queen picks her way through the snows at a mere walk, for now;[/size]
[size=xx-small]aquiver with that old, muted deliciousness of being chased by something.

[/size]
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A sharp grin split his maw as she spoke. She was a freak, just as he liked them. Of course, she could also just be telling him pretty little lies to seem tougher and fucked up in the eyes of a stranger, but to him, it was a siren's song luring him in with sweet promises. “I bet you would.” He purrs softly, almond-shaped eyes letting their lids fall half-way down as he gazed at the little saucy minx.

“And what is it that I hunger for?” She spoke as if she knew anything about it. Sure, he was a man, a man with needs and desires of his own - but should he tell her the deep dark secrets that separated him from the average Joe, would she scream and run?

Then she is off without any word. He stood for a moment, pondering what to do next. Certain that she wanted him to chase her. Was he above that? Not quite... did he want to give in to her petty little game and indulge in this childish chase? Again, he wasn't certain. There wasn't anything else in life that tugged him in any direction, and so, he followed.

Stalking through the woods as he followed her from behind, making sure his pace matched hers without catching up just yet. If she wanted to play this little game of cat and mouse then why not play the part of the big bad wolf and hunt the girl who decided to poke the wasp nest?

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[size=xx-small]poke it, prod it; she'd set the damn thing aflame just to burn within and glow from the thousand furious stings that came with it. a more sensible female would have feared the form that ambled behind her. but astarte was not sensible. she was sensual  ( or, she hopes she seems such a way to him ) and there was a sort of reachingness now within her step;[/size]
[size=xx-small]and she was nervous, too —[/size]
[size=xx-small]not of this male and what-ever he was, but of her inexperience beneath this masque of anything but.[/size]

[size=x-small]she wanted him more, though:  [/size][size=x-small]"won't you show me?"[/size]
[size=xx-small]so she let him see that glimmer of vulnerability; [/size]
[size=xx-small]the tremor that plucked itself to life along her thigh, shuddering up through her bony hips. an ache kneaded its way about her belly, and began to mold itself ever lower.[/size]

[size=xx-small]and on the fringes of those winter-laden, needlepoint trees, she turned her cheek aside to eye him from over an unmarked shoulder. unnecessarily, sillily, unbedded-ly:  [/size][size=x-small]"... please?"[/size][size=x-small] [/size][size=xx-small] [/size][size=x-small]chords becoming taut and betraying her own longing;[/size]
[size=xx-small]greedy, foolish and fumbling; she might have delighted in her temporary tethering him along had she more adamancy. [/size]

[size=xx-small]but she didn't  —  and he may very well not be interested in this quivering far-nothern thing of a wanderer, nor the virginal truth writ into her, now.[/size]

[size=xx-small]she could only wait; [/size][size=xx-small]could only want.[/size]
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“You little tart.” He huffed, taking in her little act as if she was just teasing and egging him on - which was working, he was picking up the clues she was tossing down. Following her little breadcrumbs through the path she laid down for him.

Her innocent little lash flutters, the uncertain twinkle in her eye that could only belong to a virgin. Or a well-trained whore who knew just how to entice a man into thinking a certain way she wanted. He would only know soon enough, once he tasted her. And he would. With all these teasings he would not allow her to simply saunter away without a little prize for his patience on the woman who had tripped him up just moments ago.

Eventually, they met again, fur brushing against fur. It was his turn now. She yearned for him, pleaded for his intimacy, the intimacy of an absolute stranger. Sliding his cheek and muzzle against her neck, bumping their hips together in a familiar dance he felt he had done a thousand times before, and his body betrayed him with raging hormones that had yet to be tamed.

Excitement grew like a flame through his body, greeting her ever-growing abrasive bumps and pushes. Even weaponized ivories found their way around her neck, desiring to satisfy one other need that he could not tame. It was now to see if she was all talk or not as he paused.

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[size=xx-small]she might have laughed at his words in that low and lazy temptress' taunting way  —  had he not so suddenly crowded into her, against her like he did. weak-kneed and whiny, fair near wanton; not sensual at all, it dimly occurs to her, but so very terribly sensitive. [/size]

[size=xx-small]it takes everything within her to not fall upon him then and there;[/size]
[size=xx-small]all at once she is patient and impatient, pliant and insatiable as he presses himself and his need against her the way she's always wanted to ken for herself. she arcs against him; that fever climbing through her, conquering; she greeds for his voice again; she greeds for him to loom large and everything around her, above her and—[/size]

[size=xx-small]—she is moony and he is eidoloic.[/size]

[size=x-small]"tell me,"[/size]  [size=xx-small]she carries on prettily, as if his tongue doesn't lave at that great, hot vein,[/size]  [size=x-small]"how you might kill me."[/size]  [size=xx-small]a whittling, thin breath through her rosebud nose; a tremble up her throat,[/size]  [size=x-small]"how lovely would you make me?[/size]"  [size=xx-small]muted blue gaze rolling, gleaming up at him with nothing short of ardent anticipation;[/size]
[size=xx-small]astarte decided then, girlishly, that if her end came early she would favor his gobbling her up.[/size]

[size=xx-small]strained-soft pants fill the waning noon quiet around them.[/size]

[size=xx-small]and then, maddeningly, a snarl ripples from her breast and through moonmade features; but it is gentle, almost timid, and of a savage and silent ardor that comes with the ache of waiting. [/size]
[size=xx-small]she quivers so entirely against him; a crease crescents between slim brows; and her lashes almost began to tear.[/size]

[size=xx-small]and he hasn't truly done anything to her.[/size]
[size=xx-small]yet.  ( yet! for it has only been moments for him )[/size]

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He paused, and everything seemed to be clear again. The feverish desires of a young boy faded as Abaddon found his feet again. Perhaps it was her words, and so he grins. The devilish imp that he is. His grip upon her neck squeezes lightly as he grins, ears curling with malicious delight. Her desperation almost palpable and what else could be worse, more deliciously sinister for a woman ready, pleading for a man's touch - than to be dropped like a sack of nothing.

Letting go of her neck, he slithers his maw closer to her ear. “Spiritually.” He cooes softly in a whisper before turning away from the woman, giving her one last hip-check against her shoulder as if this was his way of calling out "check-mate" to his chess partner after a grueling match.

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[size=x-small]and she is emptied; boneless.[/size]
[size=x-small]he'd ran himself along the edge of her  ( or she upon him )  and left her suspended, stilted. lingering and lost, again, again; what-ever he had set alight within her goes instead with him and astarte is left a husk riddled with the clammy cold shivers that come after a deep fever. [/size]

[size=x-small]spiritually —[/size]
[size=x-small]he'd taken hers by the bit, in some way, and ruled and reigned even as he sauntered from ... this nothing, of course. without it and without what she'd near begged for, astarte might have stumbled. she might have crawled on her knees after him, had the heat of possible passion still swathed 'round her and stifled her so entirely. [/size]

[size=xx-small]but she doesn't; and will not allow him to see how she begins to fracture inside.  ( or, tries to. fails. )[/size]

[size=x-small]"mm. and is this usually your way?"[/size]
[size=xx-small]tatters, tatters;[/size]  [size=x-small]"how unfortunate. i expected more."[/size]
[size=xx-small]knew she pranced along whatever line he'd carved between them, now; and perhaps still she was not enough of a female as to warrant his caring in this nothing.[/size]

[size=xx-small]foolish girl.[/size]

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Though she may have expected more out of their impromptu meeting, he too, the vampire, expected more from himself than to give into the throws of teenage lust, of the body with which he was reborn in. His older mind being nothing but disappointed in himself but proud that he managed to shake it off before it was too late. To quickly find himself chasing a woman was not for him, and so, as she voiced her dismay over the situation, the vampire simply walked off without another word.

He had control over himself after all, and wouldn't be drawn in by a siren unless it was what he desired... and not just because she had a flame between her legs that needed to be satisfied. He was above that after all. A bigger, better man than a slobbering, desperate child.

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