Bite The Poison Apple

To say he was upset was a gross understatement. Saracyn was furious, aggravated, and more than a little embarrassed at the current predicament he found himself in. Were it any other wolf that had ambushed him on his way home, it would have been a traditional fight that he no doubt would have been able to hold his own in. Scylla had taken some sneaky underhanded route and poisoned him from afar. Had she just tried to attack him, he would have broken her in half life a dry twig. Knowing that he had been a random target of her macabre fascination did little to assuage his humiliation either. Scylla tried to reassure him that she'd look over him while he remained incapacitated and take good care of him, but the way she purred those words out with a mischievous little glint in her mismatched eyes did nothing to bring him any comfort. If anything, it just made him all the more wary of her, especially when that gaze shifted back down towards his lower half. He knew what she was looking at; that grin on her lips told him everything that was on her mind. His leer stayed fixed to her, having nowhere else to look or no other way to communicate, shooting her a warning look as if to say "Don't you dare".

Scylla, of course, dared. Saracyn was forced to watch with uncontrolled impassivity while the slate and cream fae lifted her slender body up and stalked towards him, looking at him like some wounded animal she intended to devour. There was an eagerness in her eyes, an excitement that sent chills down his spine. Her nose grazed his cheek, a cerulean eye holding the gaze of her gray jewel, and a slow exhale from the brute formed a thin fog at the end of his muzzle. Although he could not move a muscle, he could still feel every touch she placed upon his body—in fact, some sensations even felt heightened by his drug-induced paralysis, his nerves hypersensitive when her warm tongue pulled over his vulnerable throat. Electricity rolled over Sara's skin from the contact, drawing a shuddering rumble from the brute, little stuttering breaths of steam pouring from open lips. Scylla sampled his scent here, breathing in his natural musk hinted with the smell of Alias' woods and the bergamot oils he bathed with. He felt her fangs on his tender throat, nipping at skin right above his beating pulse. She was expressing her dominance over him in this moment, flexing the power she held.

The sound of pleasure the slate and ivory fae made sent another shiver through him, followed up by another lick and kiss to the soft spot on his neck, this time coaxing a huff of breath and lower rumble from Saracyn in the process. He was resisting the sensations Scylla was giving him as best he could, but the little minx was targeting all of his erogenous zones like she had a map to them. Where the hell had she learned to do this? His eyes shifted down, trying to follow Scylla's descent as she vanished from his view, but without being able to move his head at all, Saracyn was instead left with a rather good view of Scylla's shapely rump while she continued to tease and torment him. The pheromone-laden scent of her heat pouring off of her in waves was indeed senses by the brute, and with breathing being one of the few things he could do, Sara was forced to drink deep of the intoxicating aroma, those pheromones activating primal parts of his brain regardless of his own personal feelings of their situation.

Down and down he felt Scylla's touch descend, moving over his torso and belly at her own leisure. Each surprise touch sent a little quiver through the crimson wolf, making all of his muscles tense and flex, including those between his thighs. He could feel Scylla drawing closer to his maleness, and then all at once she was there. Warmth and wetness surrounded him, drawing a surprised sound from Saracyn as pleasure suddenly lanced through his body. The striped fae touched and teased him with expertly placed motions of her tongue, teasing and pleasing in ways that made Sara's hips twitch and toes curl. Hypersensitive nerves sent hot waves of pleasure radiating out through him, and despite his initial resistance, Saracyn couldn't stop cerulean eyes from rolling behind fluttering eyelids and his breathing turning short and sporadic. Scylla's own moans as she fed at him made his core clench hard, and once she got a taste of his flavor, he felt the warm embrace of her maw slide off of him.

Saracyn nearly groaned in disappointment when he felt the cold winter air touch his bare flesh again, but Scylla's words swiftly silenced him. The lust in her whisper made his fur stand on end, ripples of ecstasy jolting through his every nerve like electricity. Saracyn was no stranger to the touch of a female, but being rendered so helpless and in Scylla's control while she took her pleasure from him and used him as she pleased did things to him he never expected he would enjoy the feel of. He rumbled deep in his chest in reply—that rumbling soon turning into a deep, throaty groan as Scylla swallowed him down til he felt her nose meet his belly and her warm maw surrounded the length of him. Blue eyes rolled back in his skull again, thighs flexing on reflex but unable to even buck or thrust. He held nothing back from her now, forced to enjoy the ride he was a hostage of while she manipulated his body like a master, making his male parts respond in ways she wanted and earning her as much of his flavor as she desired. The brute's breathing grew faster, shifting and changing with everything she did to him and communicating what he enjoyed as she pulled him closer and closer to euphoric release.

"Saracyn Mendacium"