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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divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
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.