ISCARIOT
She knew that she ought to go back to the battle, to observe her dear vixen as she had once desired. Oh, Jupiter would look ravishing in the blood of her enemies. But somewhere along the line her physical fixation had developed into something more, something deeper, something which bound the harlot to her and that hurt. Somehow, the thought of her former Queen covered in blood did not override the nagging fear in the serpent?s heart that she would not come back. In her world, such an occurrence had to be impossible. How could a cold-blooded snake exist without the touch of a bright ray of sun? The thoughts and fears distracted her, and somehow they slipped from her mind completely. The bite of teeth on her scruff, the panicked beating of her heart loud enough for her ears to hear it, reassurances that this was what her Mama had wanted her to do. A flash of lightning revealed a dark figure close to her, and for a moment the serpent readied herself, body tensing and jaws pulling upwards in a rare moment of surprise. It was not often that Medusa found herself in such a state, and quickly she relaxed. The face was familiar, the male Sol of the pack if she was correct. ?My, my, a gentleman caller, what am I to do with myself,? she said, teasing of course. ?She did a number on my shoulder, my neck, and I think she sprained my leg too,? she answered, dropping the flirtation quickly. Perhaps if she hadn?t been in such a deplorable mood she would have kept on with it, but for now she felt distant. Games didn?t seem quite so appealing when she thought the most important thing in her insignificant life might be little more than a corpse. He sat next to her, and the proximity was not something Medusa was used to. Well, she was used to it when she invited it, when she wanted it in an intimate way, but not in an innocent manner. Touch, for as long as she could remember, had always been about sex. It had always been about taking from her, and she was not certain how to handle this new situation. He announced that she should know who he was, and she chuckled. ?I know your name, but that does not mean I know who you are,? she told him. No, names and personalities were two distinctly different things. ?Are you an angel or a sinner? Are you a dog or a traitor? So far I only know that, no matter what you hide beneath, when you fuck your pretty little mate she calls you Deteste,? she said, classy as ever. |