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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
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.