Be Not Afraid of Monsters

She practically vibrated in his embrace, every move they made seemed to only stoke the flames higher until she was engulfed. He surrounded her so completely Lurid wondered if she had been swallowed by shadow, and for the briefest of moments, Lurid let her mind run with the image. Alastor had always been something of a dark god himself, he had always matched her, their synchronicity often the subject of gossip back home. Her touch seemed to transform him, to embolden him, while it also seemed to electrify him. She took pride in the fact that she was the only woman to see him this way, that she alone could so easily break him from his sanity without him flying into a murderous rage. It made her feel powerful, even while submitting to his will. That feral growl hit her ears like heroin, reverberating in her chest and making her stomach come alive with excitedly nervous butterflies. What would he do? There was a thrill in the inability to predict the dark mind that was Alastor, he always managed to keep her guessing. Lurid often read others as if they were only words on a page, but one of the things that had drawn her to the future Dread Father was that he could never be pinned down or sorted into a category in her mind. He always stood out to her, from the moment of their first meeting to her dying breath.

When she felt his paw slip from cradling her head to snaking around her and coming between them, Lurid gave an excited shiver and nipped him just before Alastor suddenly moved forward and pinned her to her back on the ground. With a soft grunt and a maddened yet delighted laugh, the glimmering queen landed beneath him, marveling at his weight over her and just how hot that move had really been. He pulled her tightly to him and she was lost in how perfectly they fit together, dozens of little fires igniting over her body wherever they made contact. The alabaster empress was more than aware of every inch of him, keeping her teasing mouth only centimeters from making contact, though the heady scent of him clouded her mind. The decadent sounds he made rolled over and over in her mind, serving to further stoke the fires that already threatened to burn her alive from the inside out. The heat of his breath made her tingle in foreign parts of her body, the sensation making her squirm just slightly under his weight. The moment he dipped his head, Lurid made a tiny feminine sound that has no other purpose than to drive a man wild, arching into his bite to perhaps make him a bit more forceful than he had intended.

They had fought each other in spars, he had bitten her in much the same manner before, though he was usually careful about how he broke her skin. While it had always stirred her in unmentionable parts of her anatomy, Lurid had never experienced his teeth in this setting. The moment his fangs slipped into her skin, Lurid gasped with a keening moan following close behind, her dual vocals bouncing off one another to create a harmony that sang of her pleasure in his actions. Her entire body arched up like a tightly drawn bow ready to fire, pressing her frame more solidly into the steel of Alastor's. A small whimper of protest escaped her as the heathen pulled back from his tasting, only to be silenced a moment later as he grasped her throat betwixt murderous jaws. The teeth that wrapped around her throat had killed more wolves than she could count, these jaws that held her now had torn so many more apart for sport. This was not the grip of death, this was an intoxicating, addicting possession. His grip was tight enough to choke off her air supply, though not completely, the danger of suffocation was real. There was no fear from the demonic goddess, in fact, his grasp had a different effect on her. What had begun as a dozen small fires was suddenly a mass conflagration the likes of which Lurid had never even begun to dream of, the flames of desire burned what was her to ash and rebranded the moon touched hellion as Alastor's.

It was a fierce, raging firestorm within her as he held her pinned between him and the floor of the cave. There was a real ache for him in the pit of her stomach, her limbs unable to keep still with her good front paw scraping down his side and her body arching desperately into the hard planes of his. Lurid sucked a breath in through her nose, the pressure of his jaws making her lightheaded as she writhed and moaned beneath him, whimpering softly with her need in tones she hadn't even known she was capable of. No matter how hard she tried, Lurid could not make her body be still, choked desirous growls taking over as her teeth clicked together. For the barest of moments she questioned whether he would actually kill her, but rather than recoil from the thought, Lurid found herself drawn to it. Her flirtations with death were well known, having had an early proclivity towards violence and murder, it was no wonder that she wouldn't shrink from Alastor even if it had been in his mind to assassinate her. Her heart swelled for him even more at that moment, for making her feel vulnerable and safe, even though she knew he could easily snuff out her light.

Fantasy blended with reality as she watched a small black ring form on the edges of her vision, a crazed sound breaking from her throat - something between a laugh, a growl, and a plea. Whatever the sound could be called, it was highly feminine and one that her duo-toned vocals made especially unique. Shrill, needy whines whistled softly as she almost seemed to serenade him - the entire time she just could not be still. Alastor quickly became the only thing to fill her vision, her mind, her nose, the man surrounded her in the darkest, most decadent of embraces. One that could easily take a seriously cruel turn, there was an undeniable trust between the pair. Trust that would transcend everything else, trust that had built love, a love that would see an empire rise from the ashes. A few more moments passed like this, her pressing against him while he held her in an intimately dominant grasp until she could see dancing colors without blinking her eyes, then she surrendered to him. Her motions continued, but a softly whispered growl of demand was issued on only three syllables. It was said with a desire-maddened whining moan, with a thirst in her tones that would put the people in Hell to shame. "Alastor..." The last syllable was on a growl, with an insistent push against him to give him any other hints he needed that she was beyond ready to leap into the rest of their lives together.