Be Not Afraid of Monsters

Alastor tensed for the barest of moments as her fangs slipped into his flesh, being so close to him granting her access to every intimate detail, right down to the sound of a stifled grunt caught in his throat. Lurid was careful in her aim, wanting only to indulge in a secret fantasy of hers, one she had entertained for a long while now. The rich, earthy maleness of his scent filled her nose as she inhaled, feeling his body tense and relax in waves. She marveled at the raw power of him, each corded muscle flexing beneath her good paw as it traveled, feeling the hard planes of his frame pressed over hers. The only thing better than his scent hitting her nose was the drug that laced his blood. The moment his life force poured into her mouth, a pleasantly shocked sound escaped her, followed closely by a deep, duo-toned purr of approval. She thought he smelled like spiced pound cake, Alastor was sweeter than that on her tongue, a cocktail made only for her palate. The sweetest Moscato, decadent, warm, like sipping the finest hot chocolate as soon as it was made.

Her eyes rolled shut and she moaned deeply at the taste of him, delighted by the fact he hadn't pulled away. Dark laughter filled her ears, vibrating in her chest cavity, and making her heart flip-flop in place. This was a laugh of pleasure, one she often heard as he lorded over a kill, one that made something deep within her curl and writhe with desire. It drove her insane, made her want more of the maniacal sound. She felt him shudder, her own shiver of delight coursing over her spine, making every hair on her body stand on end as small bumps raised over her skin. A dark paw came up to gently cradle her against him, encouraging rather than halting, making Lurid curl herself to press more firmly against him. Lurid knew very well that she was being cradled in the paws of a killer, just as he was held in the jaws of a wolf who would gladly devour another wolf. Alastor could easily kill her in the position they were in, all it would take is a simple twist of those strong paws and she would be done. Her story could end here.

Trust between them was what made this possible, a mutual understanding manufactured over years spent together, respect of one another's power. The fact he had taken lives with those dark paws, his own father's life at that, made his embrace all the more sensual for her. That she was only a breath away from death, that the wolf who held her so gently now was known to snap and kill in an instant, it all ignited sinful fires of lust that begged to be fed. As she fed from him, Lurid withdrew her fangs and gently rolled her tongue over the wound she left as she moaned softly and purred. When that deep masculine sound of pleasure hit her ears, Lurid felt her stomach clench as desire threatened to turn to violence if it was not answered. Foreign demands came from her body, his behavior egging some primal part of her on, driving her forward in her explorations. Reluctantly, Lurid gently pulled from him once she was sure she hadn't truly injured him, her breaths hard and eyes ablaze with a fire that only burned for him. She planted bloodstained kisses up his neck and to his cheek, then sought to capture his mouth in a searing, claiming kiss.

When the pale queen kissed him this time, she poured her entire being into the gesture, using her body in the contact as well. It was fiery, demanding, and slightly Alastor flavored. As they kissed, Lurid ran her good paw over Alastor's chest, raking her nails against the skin of his stomach. He was half-mad already, but Lurid wanted him to be his true self and would have to push him beyond the mesh boundaries he made for himself. The ghostly woman trusted Alastor implicitly, even at his most savage he had always been able to identify her. He would never hurt her, not truly. Leaving his lips, Lurid kissed and nipped her way to the other side of his neck, her mouth just open enough to give the impression of another impending bite. While the taste of him lingered on her tongue, she held back from latching on, instead, she teased her teeth over his skin to gauge if he had really enjoyed her bite. Would he let her get away with another one or would her teasing finally make him slip the fragile leash of control? There was only one way to find out, there would be no turning back from here.