// smile like you mean it //
This had always been the problem with this for the Butcher. The step of craving and needing that control, of giving gentle agreements and concessions only to have them blow up the second the blood hits his tongue and the spark blooms that sharply. It’s a predators instinct that has him latching on, and whatever plan she’d had, whatever she thought she could do to keep him docile doesn’t really work with the deal she’s made.
He did warn her.
Her hiccupped voice is difficult to hear from the blood pumping through his veins and roaring in his ears, and if it weren’t for some deeper hidden thought barking in the back of his mind that he needed to restrain himself, he might have actually chomped down harder than the rough handling of her shoulder between his too sharp teeth. And while he was close, it wasn’t so close that his orgasm crests, especially not with the sudden change to this dance.
Instead, he’s faced with the sudden pull, having half a mind to unlatch his jaw, leaving her shoulder fucked up but at least mostly intact – no chunk of flesh missing but certainly jagged cuts. His hands fall back to brace him as the tide jaguar appears, its weight a heavy thing against him and it has him inhaling a sharp breath despite the mouthful of blood, dark eyes swallowed up by both lust and the bloodlust tracking from Flora to the beast between them – recognizing it nearly immediately, before he looks back to the doubletake and her shoulder. With a flare of his nostrils and the tightness of his jaw, Astaroth tries to bring himself back. “Flora, I –” he starts to say through that very same hoarse voice, tight from the weight of the jaguar, the back of his hand lifting to wipe at his mouth, to then run through his hair to push it back, trying to become more and more like the impeccable Ancient she’d seen before now. Still in her, though the tension has dropped immensely on that pleasure and arousal within him, he can’t help the janky shiver that races down his spine in the mixture of emotions. Emotions that hit a belated moment as sanity races back in.
His hands try to push at the feline next, trying to give him some air lest he feel so trapped between it and her and fuck, he’s still buried inside her. Suddenly everything feels ice cold and he’s both too exposed and too stuck. “I’m sorry – fuck,” comes the next little gasp of sound, markedly less into the moment as he had been. “Flora, get off of me.” Comes the next rising request, punctuated with the "right now, please" that passes through blood stained lips and too sharp teeth, around the spotted tide jaguar that presses between them.
He did warn her.
Her hiccupped voice is difficult to hear from the blood pumping through his veins and roaring in his ears, and if it weren’t for some deeper hidden thought barking in the back of his mind that he needed to restrain himself, he might have actually chomped down harder than the rough handling of her shoulder between his too sharp teeth. And while he was close, it wasn’t so close that his orgasm crests, especially not with the sudden change to this dance.
Instead, he’s faced with the sudden pull, having half a mind to unlatch his jaw, leaving her shoulder fucked up but at least mostly intact – no chunk of flesh missing but certainly jagged cuts. His hands fall back to brace him as the tide jaguar appears, its weight a heavy thing against him and it has him inhaling a sharp breath despite the mouthful of blood, dark eyes swallowed up by both lust and the bloodlust tracking from Flora to the beast between them – recognizing it nearly immediately, before he looks back to the doubletake and her shoulder. With a flare of his nostrils and the tightness of his jaw, Astaroth tries to bring himself back. “Flora, I –” he starts to say through that very same hoarse voice, tight from the weight of the jaguar, the back of his hand lifting to wipe at his mouth, to then run through his hair to push it back, trying to become more and more like the impeccable Ancient she’d seen before now. Still in her, though the tension has dropped immensely on that pleasure and arousal within him, he can’t help the janky shiver that races down his spine in the mixture of emotions. Emotions that hit a belated moment as sanity races back in.
His hands try to push at the feline next, trying to give him some air lest he feel so trapped between it and her and fuck, he’s still buried inside her. Suddenly everything feels ice cold and he’s both too exposed and too stuck. “I’m sorry – fuck,” comes the next little gasp of sound, markedly less into the moment as he had been. “Flora, get off of me.” Comes the next rising request, punctuated with the "right now, please" that passes through blood stained lips and too sharp teeth, around the spotted tide jaguar that presses between them.
Astaroth
// take a chance and you could seize it //
