A Flower Blooming In The Slums

The emptiness of the abyss that Fiametta floated in was quiet and calming, with nothing to take away from the sensations she was delivering to herself. Her breaths, her every sound she coaxed from herself with her paws drifted into the nothingness, floating in a place where only she was. Until the shadows heard her breaths and moans. Until the darkness took note of her and paid her ceaseless attention. Then the abyss came to life. There was no shift in the void, and yet all of a sudden everything about this liminal space seemed different. Less calming and more suffocating. Not a peaceful sanctuary, but a never-ending prison. From inside the dark, the demon became aware of her, the call of his blood in her veins awakening him and freeing him from his senseless hell. For a creature like himself, sensation was his greatest pleasure, and to be devoid of it was his greatest hell. Now he was freed from that purgatory by her self indulgent paws, and just like a drop of blood in shark-infested waters, her carnal pleasure drew him in.

Maybe she heard the low grumble just barely audible over her heated exhales, the sounds of her labored breathing stirring something in the darkness. Nares flared, drinking in the sweet scent of fae. Abyssal eyes appeared in the void, but they blended in like a chameleon, black on black as they leered at the wanton display with a feral hunger. A voyeur in the shadows. She was young, nubile, painted in the colors of his bloodline with eyes that mirrored his own. She was of his blood, but that mattered little to the demon at this moment. No, what mattered was how her lascivious show was rousing appetites he had not slaked since his son banished him from the mortal realm. How long had it been since he'd had a fae beneath him? He almost salivated at the thoughts of claiming her, slaking his lust with her body, reveling in the sensations and pleasures he had been robbed of. It wouldn't be the first time he'd satiated his primal urges with his own blood, after all.

The eyes vanished into the dark, and then the darkness was shifting again as an invisible shadow slid through the dark closer to her. Behind the flame-marked woman, the darkness molded together into his form, shadow flowing like liquid to solidify into rippling plains of muscle, massive in stature and imposing in physique. Once he had taken form, the darkness melted away like ice in the summer sun, revealing the deep crimson fur and those obsidian eyes that had been watching her with ravenous intrigue. He said nothing at first, allowing the young fae to continue enjoying himself and giving him quite an enjoyable show. His nose flared, breathing in her scent of lust and pheromones once more. Then he smiled, a show of sharp teeth, and he sat back, watching with a smoldering lecherous gaze. He would not interrupt her yet, waiting to see if perhaps she would notice she wasn't alone anymore or if she'd continue to entice him to the point where he wouldn't be able to resist taking her as his. She had come here willingly and brought him from his cage, so clearly she wanted this too.

"Moros"