What a funny little moment to feel pride in something besides himself. Or was that wrong - because behold this beast, this wretched monster crackling with power and devilish light, yet another mimicry of his own powers.
That's his mate.
So long as Vox can catch him, that is - but if Alastor truly wanted to get away, he would simply slink into shadows and vanish into the crevices of the overly dense city. But that wouldn't be any fun.
Alastor's shadow emerged from between buildings, growing and blooming into the gangly, wretched form he preferred for making snacks of large crowds of Sinners. Let the chase resume - the maze of buildings and dense spires of brimstone surrounding the crater city were the trees for the 'doe' to duck and weave through.
Initial tests involved so much pain when he first gave it a try years back. But tonight that pain had been so, so dull, just a beat of discomfort that preceded so much liberation, so much hunger and bliss. He understood why Alastor took such a form, something so twisted yet so beautiful in some alien fashion that the CEO always failed to describe. Velvette had long gotten tired of hearing him fucking rattle on about it-
Two big, red eyes turned and burned brighter, delight unmasked as he spied the telltale shadow. He moved like a shot, as a shark gliding through water, in pursuit of something particularly tasty. He knew these streets. This was HIS city. Cars shuddered as he stormed past, and lights within surrounding businesses and outdoor fixtures blinked and pulsed with the rhythm of the blue lines running down the bared sections of his body.
He plotted a climb. That building...? No. This one. No, this one... he lunged and gripped tight against masonry and glass before he swiftly began scaling. Wires erupted from his back to add more grip to his climb, pull and secure. Once up top, he would leap from rooftop to rooftop. With a higher vantage point, he could widen his field of view.
Ah, what a wish it was of his to be able to do this every night...
Oh, how swiftly things went to utter chaos, like this!! Alastor clawed and kicked his way through buildings without care, cleaving a path of destruction that scratched an unscratchable itch in him that always reared its ugly head in the late autumn.
Scatter, vermin!! You wretched Sinners - murderers, rapists, cruel and pathetic little worms!
The draining of the power, ironically, gave Alastor so much more darkness to hide and dart through. His claws crunched through brick, mortar, glass - Vox would only have the light to see once he caught up, and until then, only the screams of startled or dying Sinners accompanied by Alastor's manic cackling led the way.
It's their song, Alastor... just like old times. Many eyes crinkled in glee, laces of drool connecting glowing teeth as he found himself laughing as well.
Broken glass glittered in stray light, brick and mortar would just gum up traffic for weeks... like that mattered compared to the hunt, and the way the scent of blood always seemed to compliment him. It would turn so many stomachs, but it never failed to put butterflies in his.
Vox lunged down a building, and his wires ripped massive trenches through the walls to slow his descent. But he kicked off the structure to send him forward, landing on all fours in the darkened streets, illuminated only by his glowing lines and the red of his eyes.
His shark's tail whipped and sent a half-dozen cars airborne, while others still crunched underfoot as he began a full-on sprint on all fours. Some couples enjoyed a frolic in the woods. Better ones enjoyed marauding through a crowded city with no goals other than finding each other.
His wires crept ahead, reaching, craving, embedding in any structure they can as he moved in his single-minded focus in closing the gap.
All worries were unreachable in Alastor's mind - any missgivings, any fear of reputation, any concept of exposure or lewdness - all that mattered was the rush as they tore through buildings and mountainous spires alike, the scent of blood and electricity and raw power they exuded.
Alastor saw the glow of blue surrounding him from behind before wire and claw caught him - perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He was caught, fair and square, the two of them almost explosively powerful together - every part of his heat-addled body craved.
But the predator in him still had him whirl around, antlers branching out and crackling with sickly green sparks like massive transmission towers, swiping towards Vox along with elongated arms and claws, demanding wordlessly for Vox to not back down, to wrestle him down, to make his CLAIM--
The wire what sought purchase wound and gripped tight before more of the length snaked further up the calf, a slow and relishing touch. To be kept at such a distance for so long, for as much as they fought, slowly killed him inside no matter how much he enjoyed the cat and mouse game.
His heart lifted when he saw those antlers grow, countless prongs twisting and threatening to gore. Alastor turned and swung full force when Vox crossed that finish line, and he only just managed to duck those wild antlers. One set of claws raked and tore his pitifully ruined jacket and what remained of his vest, bit into skin and added fresh dribbles of red to the crumbled streets beneath them, but his hands were free to set upon him: One to seize an opposing arm of the Radio Demon, and another to clutch where that bow tie always was. The Media Demon advanced, applying full weight to a wrestling match.
More wires flew from his back to thrust into the ground and secure him, while others couldn't help themselves. To be so close like this again was such a rare opportunity, the tingle of electricity his own excitement as technological tendrils set around the red demon's middle, his thighs, a long stroke up his back.
Still more slithered down his own body in kind, tucking beneath and rending what remained of his own clothing asunder. Terrified masses could enjoy a combination wrestling match and undressing session, but it'd be their one warning before this strange blue amalgamation of man and machine would give a sound that was a combination of an electric buzz and a purr. Amid the hard coating painted over countless wires and the bite of clue claws, something softer, hotter began to grind against him, seeking and searching in the struggle. Then a second. He really was more shark-like...
Here. Now. Backed by alarmed screams and some distant car alarms that wailed and gradually died as battery damage in the collateral slowly ebbed the life out of them.
Alastor's free claws and hooves slashed at him, shredding cloth and spilling more and more blood.
It looked good. Red, red, deep angry visceral lively red, it made Alastor feel hungry... and wanting in a way that was still so foreign to him. His body fought because that is all Alastor has ever known... but those wires answered that hunger in spite of his thrashing, tearing at what shredded clothes were stifflingly hot and bringing something of such an unbelievable texture to grind between his legs, against dampened fur, something that Alastor was only ever dead silent about in his right mind.
Well. As 'right' as this madman ever is, that is.
Alastor's bloodlust poured from him, relishing the beauty of it raining down on him from where he cleaved it from Vox, but expanded further as the Radio Demon's shadow stretched and grabbed at those too close, tearing them apart in a glut of violence.
His wounds bled and throbbed but he didn't care. The pain added to his pleasure, the joy of being touched again, even like this. In their struggle against the street, his claws ran up those ribs, ruffling fine fur.
To the chorus of screams and fresh blood letting fly, Vox gripped tight as he lined himself up, then entered in one smooth motion. A few candles lit in a soft and cushy bedroom was something he was accustomed to, but he could see the vision here... this game, this chase, had its own immense allure.
He purred his bliss as he thrust deep, more wires winding around Alastor's thighs, easing him just a little further apart. If they were to give half the city a show on how this shit got done, the two best showmen in Hell couldn't go only halfway, now could they...?
The feeling of abrupt fullness, painful and utter bliss all at once, something FINALLY quenching the hungry flame assailing him - Alastor's deep, guttural keening was accompanied with the whine and sputters of microphone feedback. The scratching grew shallower, less aggressive and more clingy.
God, he fucking NEEDED this. Alastor spread his legs and hooked his claws into Vox's shoulder blades, drooling as he took Vox in and squeezed him greedily.
His screens flickered briefly into black and white snow when he felt that tight squeeze, the huff of breath from his jaws a steam. God... tighter than he'd ever experienced before.
The bite of claws was such a thrill, and each sound from Alastor was music to his ears. His grip adjusted, one set of claws taking to the ruined earth below for that precious balance while the other seized hold of the base of one of those impressive antlers.
Vox's pace would keep slow for a time, and he would use that antler to ease the other demon's head away. That long blue tongue traced the length of his neck, drawing along stray flecks of blood from the city-wide carnage and a little of his own in that coppery tang.
But once he felt things ease, his teeth grazed that throat. He tasted him as he started filling him faster.
Held down, grasped by an antler, his neck bitten and torn into by sharp serrated shark teeth as his body was claimed--
Alastor's teeth gnashed, equal parts frustrated, embarrassed and thrilled and proud. The raw animal need being met, that impossible itch being scratched, the scent of blood and fizzling electricity making his fur stand on end or even burn - what a luxury this heinous rutting was.
Lacking his natural pride, at least at the levels it normally held at, Alastor bared his throat for Vox to tear at even more - tear, bite, eat him, claim him...
This was the first time in so, so long that he actually enjoyed it. He didn't know what that said about him, and right now he didn't care. His heart sang in a primal victory, a successful chase, and it blended with an old, old feeling he only struggled with in the beginning of his damnation: Bloodlust.
Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he hungered with each little touch of it upon the air. But tasting it now as his teeth delved into the flesh of his prize, feeling the warmth of it on his tongue sent a hard shiver through him, right down to the newly-formed tail.
His free hand slid across the concrete, found his. Covered it, curled fingers. There was a ping that sang through the air, a single-minded signal of MINE. Monitors over half the city forcibly changed to a marquee of that word. No sounds. No music. It'd drown out the screams... it'd drown out the sounds he made beneath him...
The way his throat was torn out - leaving Alastor gargling, leaving his body screaming with the high of pain and desperate survival, the fire in his nerves from the desperate spark to survive clashing overwhelmingly with the crackle of pleasure of being rutted into, being so vulgarly filled and pushed to the limit.
And to top all of that off, Vox held his hand? Their claws scratched against each other, but nonetheless, amidst the chaos of feeling the little hint of softness connection tipped the buck over the edge completely. Alastor wetly growled, arching his back and gasping as his body orgasmed - a feeling he rarely chased at all - drawing all it could from the shark that had pinned it.
He felt incredible. He tasted so fucking good. His mind spun from the building, burning pleasure in his core, driving him harder into his rut. His breaths were short and growling, teeth stained with fresh blood, with the scent that made him wish to shiver and never stop. His always smelled the best amid the noisy, worthless masses that continued to overpopulate this place. Not good enough. Never good enough.
Not like him. As the buck growled and arched, the creature hunched over him offered a purr in response, the clutch of that claw tightening. That's it... his new favorite sound in this awful fucking world.
But it was like its own claw, grabbing him by lapels he no longer had at the moment, setting a vice grip before pulling him down, too. He drove in deep and hissed, his grip upon that antler and his neck possessive now as climax hit him in sharp waves. Vox spilled hard into his mate- yeah... that's the word, isn't it...?- and could hardly remember the last time his finish had been so thrilling, snatch his breath and leave him shuddering. The signals he sent dissolved into snow, into a tingling static.
He remained locked for a time he could hardly fathom. But as he gradually felt himself drifting back down, his body rolled to gently thrust, coaxing, pushing everything deeper.
Every languid thrust made Alastor's oversized, gangly body twitch and tremble in aftershocks, his throat gurgling and whining as it regenerated but tore again under the sawblade shark teeth that crackled with electricity that only make his own heat-boiled blood boil hotter. Alastor's signal was a similarly snowy feedback, spiking with intensity with every adjusted grip of the bite, every thrust, all of that stimuli.
Good, he decided, he felt good with pain like this. Raw, and feral, and alive. Couldn't find the will or strength in him to shove Vox away, craving his mate's seed and to grow heavy with fawns--
Pups?
God, they would be so strong...
"Gkkhhk..." Alastor growled, finding a renewed strength to reach an elongated arm around Vox and grasp onto the fin, trying to pull himself upright, trying to fight to push the shark around. He wanted MORE... it was a deep hunger in his belly, and Alastor's neck bones crackled as he strained against the way his antler was held, trying to twist and bite back.
Little more... just a little more until he was done with this one. There was definitely more where all of this came from, but he'd be a sorry partner if he left a job unfinished.
Alastor twisted around, found a hold upon his fin and he hissed, a sound of glee. He'd tasted so much now that old instinct had left him bottomless! He could fight him, chase him with renewed vigor, and he would be so, so glad to give the Radio Demon more of what he craved.
The shark's brain spun. The hand at the antler released after a lavish stroke, always so enamored with the things when Alastor let them grow. But it freed his palm to reach low...
"Tell me..." He purred between blood-soaked teeth, twisting his head to briefly catch one of those ears.
His palm settled upon the other demon's stomach, and as his claws curled, ran the tips with an unexpected gentleness across the skin.
The little gestures of gentleness rock Alastor to the core harder than every bite - Alastor shivered under that gentle touch, his body squeezing tightly around his mate's cock still sunk deep inside.
Four - that's the number that pings through the radio signal, followed by a deeply greedy, lustful or more!
Alastor sank his fangs into Vox's shoulder, growling and snarling as he tore at his mate. Hungry, he's so hungry... gangly hooves hooked around Vox's waist, denying him any ability to leave. His, his, he wants that cruelty and gentleness and the painful, blissful contrast to fill him FAT with fawns, or shark pups, anything he can take--
The signal sang through his system, its own rush over every nerve in him. That was a damn nice number... but he liked the 'or more' even better.
Every wire tightened its embrace in kind with the way those legs hooked around his waist, mutual reluctance to part. The animal hiss he gave as teeth tore into his shoulder was a mingled pain and pleasure, warm and deep red staining the teeth.
Anything he wanted... anything he needed...
The palm at his stomach pressed, held him there as he drove in deep and arched his back with a snarl. The power flickered through the streets, screens for several blocks fighting to remain on signal as this strange creature plunged into that long-awaited rush of climax. Each shuddering grind accompanied a warm pump, mingled blood and saliva running down the shark's chin.
Alastor's dewclaws scratched and hooked at Vox's back and the fins running along his spine, all as those elongated heels kept trying to find purchase with each thrust to hold his mate. To keep that feeling...
It wasn't like swallowing a great bite of food, or guzzling water when one was deeply parched. But each shuddering thrust, the explosion of warmth deep in the belly, the way Alastor wasn't quite sure if the visual snow he was seeing was his usual static effect or just the way his brain was sparking with prolonged pleasure... it was deeply satiating an old, primal hunger that he thought would be impossible to sate.
To feel as full and fulfilled as he always felt after a good hunt... a visceral satisfaction in the body, not of the ego. With a soft growl, almost a purr, Alastor gnawed and lapped at the bleeding wound he punctured into his mate's shoulder and chased satiation there as well, some deep drive in him wanting to feed and strengthen his body, his potential young.
A dozen eyes narrowed in bliss. His tongue swept against his lips, sweeping away the remnants of his treat as he shifted, many cords curling to support rather than bind and caress. He purred in kind in the wake of the sting against the wound, canting his head to nose against a soft red ear.
He was the only one who was allowed to take from him: Attention, focus, money, blood, his still-beating heart if need be... and he wished he could somehow slow his healing factor, if only to let his love feed for as long as he wished. Later, he may go hunting himself, plopping jawfuls of what hapless prey he'd managed to snag in the race for fresh meat at Alastor's feet.
But for now, all Vox wanted was him. Apart for so long, angry and bitter for so long... he was feeling an envy.
The electricity glittered along his fins, and some of his wires embedded in the ground drank deep. With a low boom and the steadily-quieting whine of countless machines powering down, the overlord killed the lights. He ignored the shouts and screams of alarm, content only to be bathed in the red light of that accursed pentagram.
Vox could dress in so much blue, practically bathe in the hue... but he could never shake his fondness for red.
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
no subject
What a funny little moment to feel pride in something besides himself. Or was that wrong - because behold this beast, this wretched monster crackling with power and devilish light, yet another mimicry of his own powers.
That's his mate.
So long as Vox can catch him, that is - but if Alastor truly wanted to get away, he would simply slink into shadows and vanish into the crevices of the overly dense city. But that wouldn't be any fun.
Alastor's shadow emerged from between buildings, growing and blooming into the gangly, wretched form he preferred for making snacks of large crowds of Sinners. Let the chase resume - the maze of buildings and dense spires of brimstone surrounding the crater city were the trees for the 'doe' to duck and weave through.
no subject
Two big, red eyes turned and burned brighter, delight unmasked as he spied the telltale shadow. He moved like a shot, as a shark gliding through water, in pursuit of something particularly tasty. He knew these streets. This was HIS city. Cars shuddered as he stormed past, and lights within surrounding businesses and outdoor fixtures blinked and pulsed with the rhythm of the blue lines running down the bared sections of his body.
He plotted a climb. That building...? No. This one. No, this one... he lunged and gripped tight against masonry and glass before he swiftly began scaling. Wires erupted from his back to add more grip to his climb, pull and secure. Once up top, he would leap from rooftop to rooftop. With a higher vantage point, he could widen his field of view.
Ah, what a wish it was of his to be able to do this every night...
no subject
Scatter, vermin!! You wretched Sinners - murderers, rapists, cruel and pathetic little worms!
The draining of the power, ironically, gave Alastor so much more darkness to hide and dart through. His claws crunched through brick, mortar, glass - Vox would only have the light to see once he caught up, and until then, only the screams of startled or dying Sinners accompanied by Alastor's manic cackling led the way.
no subject
Broken glass glittered in stray light, brick and mortar would just gum up traffic for weeks... like that mattered compared to the hunt, and the way the scent of blood always seemed to compliment him. It would turn so many stomachs, but it never failed to put butterflies in his.
Vox lunged down a building, and his wires ripped massive trenches through the walls to slow his descent. But he kicked off the structure to send him forward, landing on all fours in the darkened streets, illuminated only by his glowing lines and the red of his eyes.
His shark's tail whipped and sent a half-dozen cars airborne, while others still crunched underfoot as he began a full-on sprint on all fours. Some couples enjoyed a frolic in the woods. Better ones enjoyed marauding through a crowded city with no goals other than finding each other.
His wires crept ahead, reaching, craving, embedding in any structure they can as he moved in his single-minded focus in closing the gap.
no subject
Alastor saw the glow of blue surrounding him from behind before wire and claw caught him - perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. He was caught, fair and square, the two of them almost explosively powerful together - every part of his heat-addled body craved.
But the predator in him still had him whirl around, antlers branching out and crackling with sickly green sparks like massive transmission towers, swiping towards Vox along with elongated arms and claws, demanding wordlessly for Vox to not back down, to wrestle him down, to make his CLAIM--
no subject
His heart lifted when he saw those antlers grow, countless prongs twisting and threatening to gore. Alastor turned and swung full force when Vox crossed that finish line, and he only just managed to duck those wild antlers. One set of claws raked and tore his pitifully ruined jacket and what remained of his vest, bit into skin and added fresh dribbles of red to the crumbled streets beneath them, but his hands were free to set upon him: One to seize an opposing arm of the Radio Demon, and another to clutch where that bow tie always was. The Media Demon advanced, applying full weight to a wrestling match.
More wires flew from his back to thrust into the ground and secure him, while others couldn't help themselves. To be so close like this again was such a rare opportunity, the tingle of electricity his own excitement as technological tendrils set around the red demon's middle, his thighs, a long stroke up his back.
Still more slithered down his own body in kind, tucking beneath and rending what remained of his own clothing asunder. Terrified masses could enjoy a combination wrestling match and undressing session, but it'd be their one warning before this strange blue amalgamation of man and machine would give a sound that was a combination of an electric buzz and a purr. Amid the hard coating painted over countless wires and the bite of clue claws, something softer, hotter began to grind against him, seeking and searching in the struggle. Then a second. He really was more shark-like...
Here. Now. Backed by alarmed screams and some distant car alarms that wailed and gradually died as battery damage in the collateral slowly ebbed the life out of them.
no subject
It looked good. Red, red, deep angry visceral lively red, it made Alastor feel hungry... and wanting in a way that was still so foreign to him. His body fought because that is all Alastor has ever known... but those wires answered that hunger in spite of his thrashing, tearing at what shredded clothes were stifflingly hot and bringing something of such an unbelievable texture to grind between his legs, against dampened fur, something that Alastor was only ever dead silent about in his right mind.
Well. As 'right' as this madman ever is, that is.
Alastor's bloodlust poured from him, relishing the beauty of it raining down on him from where he cleaved it from Vox, but expanded further as the Radio Demon's shadow stretched and grabbed at those too close, tearing them apart in a glut of violence.
no subject
To the chorus of screams and fresh blood letting fly, Vox gripped tight as he lined himself up, then entered in one smooth motion. A few candles lit in a soft and cushy bedroom was something he was accustomed to, but he could see the vision here... this game, this chase, had its own immense allure.
He purred his bliss as he thrust deep, more wires winding around Alastor's thighs, easing him just a little further apart. If they were to give half the city a show on how this shit got done, the two best showmen in Hell couldn't go only halfway, now could they...?
no subject
God, he fucking NEEDED this. Alastor spread his legs and hooked his claws into Vox's shoulder blades, drooling as he took Vox in and squeezed him greedily.
no subject
The bite of claws was such a thrill, and each sound from Alastor was music to his ears. His grip adjusted, one set of claws taking to the ruined earth below for that precious balance while the other seized hold of the base of one of those impressive antlers.
Vox's pace would keep slow for a time, and he would use that antler to ease the other demon's head away. That long blue tongue traced the length of his neck, drawing along stray flecks of blood from the city-wide carnage and a little of his own in that coppery tang.
But once he felt things ease, his teeth grazed that throat. He tasted him as he started filling him faster.
no subject
Alastor's teeth gnashed, equal parts frustrated, embarrassed and thrilled and proud. The raw animal need being met, that impossible itch being scratched, the scent of blood and fizzling electricity making his fur stand on end or even burn - what a luxury this heinous rutting was.
Lacking his natural pride, at least at the levels it normally held at, Alastor bared his throat for Vox to tear at even more - tear, bite, eat him, claim him...
no subject
Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he hungered with each little touch of it upon the air. But tasting it now as his teeth delved into the flesh of his prize, feeling the warmth of it on his tongue sent a hard shiver through him, right down to the newly-formed tail.
His free hand slid across the concrete, found his. Covered it, curled fingers. There was a ping that sang through the air, a single-minded signal of MINE. Monitors over half the city forcibly changed to a marquee of that word. No sounds. No music. It'd drown out the screams... it'd drown out the sounds he made beneath him...
Too close. Fuck. FUCK. No, he wanted more...
no subject
And to top all of that off, Vox held his hand? Their claws scratched against each other, but nonetheless, amidst the chaos of feeling the little hint of
softnessconnection tipped the buck over the edge completely. Alastor wetly growled, arching his back and gasping as his body orgasmed - a feeling he rarely chased at all - drawing all it could from the shark that had pinned it.no subject
Not like him. As the buck growled and arched, the creature hunched over him offered a purr in response, the clutch of that claw tightening. That's it... his new favorite sound in this awful fucking world.
But it was like its own claw, grabbing him by lapels he no longer had at the moment, setting a vice grip before pulling him down, too. He drove in deep and hissed, his grip upon that antler and his neck possessive now as climax hit him in sharp waves. Vox spilled hard into his mate- yeah... that's the word, isn't it...?- and could hardly remember the last time his finish had been so thrilling, snatch his breath and leave him shuddering. The signals he sent dissolved into snow, into a tingling static.
He remained locked for a time he could hardly fathom. But as he gradually felt himself drifting back down, his body rolled to gently thrust, coaxing, pushing everything deeper.
no subject
Good, he decided, he felt good with pain like this. Raw, and feral, and alive. Couldn't find the will or strength in him to shove Vox away, craving his mate's seed and to grow heavy with fawns--
Pups?
God, they would be so strong...
"Gkkhhk..." Alastor growled, finding a renewed strength to reach an elongated arm around Vox and grasp onto the fin, trying to pull himself upright, trying to fight to push the shark around. He wanted MORE... it was a deep hunger in his belly, and Alastor's neck bones crackled as he strained against the way his antler was held, trying to twist and bite back.
no subject
Alastor twisted around, found a hold upon his fin and he hissed, a sound of glee. He'd tasted so much now that old instinct had left him bottomless! He could fight him, chase him with renewed vigor, and he would be so, so glad to give the Radio Demon more of what he craved.
The shark's brain spun. The hand at the antler released after a lavish stroke, always so enamored with the things when Alastor let them grow. But it freed his palm to reach low...
"Tell me..." He purred between blood-soaked teeth, twisting his head to briefly catch one of those ears.
His palm settled upon the other demon's stomach, and as his claws curled, ran the tips with an unexpected gentleness across the skin.
"...How many I'm giving you..."
no subject
Four - that's the number that pings through the radio signal, followed by a deeply greedy, lustful or more!
Alastor sank his fangs into Vox's shoulder, growling and snarling as he tore at his mate. Hungry, he's so hungry... gangly hooves hooked around Vox's waist, denying him any ability to leave. His, his, he wants that cruelty and gentleness and the painful, blissful contrast to fill him FAT with fawns, or shark pups, anything he can take--
no subject
Every wire tightened its embrace in kind with the way those legs hooked around his waist, mutual reluctance to part. The animal hiss he gave as teeth tore into his shoulder was a mingled pain and pleasure, warm and deep red staining the teeth.
Anything he wanted... anything he needed...
The palm at his stomach pressed, held him there as he drove in deep and arched his back with a snarl. The power flickered through the streets, screens for several blocks fighting to remain on signal as this strange creature plunged into that long-awaited rush of climax. Each shuddering grind accompanied a warm pump, mingled blood and saliva running down the shark's chin.
HͥI̤̥S̩.̱ No͂bͩ̋ơd̤͂y͉ el̳͜s̢̝e͔'s̸..͑.͋̀͠
no subject
It wasn't like swallowing a great bite of food, or guzzling water when one was deeply parched. But each shuddering thrust, the explosion of warmth deep in the belly, the way Alastor wasn't quite sure if the visual snow he was seeing was his usual static effect or just the way his brain was sparking with prolonged pleasure... it was deeply satiating an old, primal hunger that he thought would be impossible to sate.
To feel as full and fulfilled as he always felt after a good hunt... a visceral satisfaction in the body, not of the ego. With a soft growl, almost a purr, Alastor gnawed and lapped at the bleeding wound he punctured into his mate's shoulder and chased satiation there as well, some deep drive in him wanting to feed and strengthen his body, his potential young.
Mine. M̷i̷n̶e̶. Ḯ̵̘'̶̦̿l̵͖̒l̵̩̾ ̵͇̐g̵͉̊r̷͕̈́o̴̻̽w̷̬̑ f̸̡̊͛̈͘a̴̩̎̒̀͜t̸͓̻̱͆̏̂͑ ̴̰̀f̴̰̾r̶͎̓o̷̟͑m̵̪̊ ̴̱̎e̵̟̓v̶̬̂e̶̙̕r̶͙͠y̴̰̑ ̷̡̀d̷̦́r̷̠̈́ô̵͓p̷̺̆ ̴̢̌o̷̢̔f̶̣̽ ̵̟͆y̴̼̿o̵̞̓ụ̵͒.
no subject
He was the only one who was allowed to take from him: Attention, focus, money, blood, his still-beating heart if need be... and he wished he could somehow slow his healing factor, if only to let his love feed for as long as he wished. Later, he may go hunting himself, plopping jawfuls of what hapless prey he'd managed to snag in the race for fresh meat at Alastor's feet.
But for now, all Vox wanted was him. Apart for so long, angry and bitter for so long... he was feeling an envy.
The electricity glittered along his fins, and some of his wires embedded in the ground drank deep. With a low boom and the steadily-quieting whine of countless machines powering down, the overlord killed the lights. He ignored the shouts and screams of alarm, content only to be bathed in the red light of that accursed pentagram.
Vox could dress in so much blue, practically bathe in the hue... but he could never shake his fondness for red.