Disjointed Children
04-28-2014, 06:48 PM
Pl-ah time.
The mere thought of playtime was enough to make his haunches quiver in anticipation. How long has it been since dear Imonde has had the chance to lay his teeth and weight into another being? Days? Weeks? Months? He couldn?t recall, his memory would flick between this victim and that, all of their faces blurred together in the fragmentation of his conscious. At first their names used to matter, he would stop and take a moment to ask them before he released them of their shells. But the sad aspect was after a period of time, even that made no difference. There was an intense pleasure to be had with the letting of blood, but the male was starting to realize as he aged that it was temporary. Each time he would have to consume more flesh, let more blood, and allow the skin of his humanity slide off his soul like an apple being peeled by an expert skinner.
Soon his thoughts where rudely interrupted it by the light female. Her words? He wondered if she was like Misha, another female that spoke words but cowered when invited to step outside and play. No. Imonde caught scent of this new girl at the scene of her extravagant crime. This alone solidified the notion that she would indeed come for his blood, and how exciting this thought was.
It was so exciting that his heart rapidly increased it?s pace inside of his chest. The male could almost feel his own atoms expanding, ready to transfuse blood across their membranes. His muscles where now a steady vibration under his coat, the fur rising along his spine, his tail remaining balanced behind him, his haunches lowering even more so toward the ground. The creature curled upward in anticipation, eyes narrowing as he yet again ignores her words, his eyes merely sliding along the base of her tail and the slope of her hips, the saliva pooling between jaws that were now easing open.
How delicious this would be. She continued to move, her words pushing against him, but his shoulders harkened his response as they round under him. His head draws back closer to his body, nose dipping against the peak of his chest, covering the tender portions of his throat. The fur that guards his neck scrunches, providing a protectively fleshly layer between him and incoming abuse.
Now she has his attention again, halting in front of him, denying his eyes the prize they where seeking. Pity. Then she expands, drawing upon her full height in front of him. What is she doing? His mind assess the situation, but more words make their way from her lips, this time she has his undivided attention, ignore the trembled of anticipation, ignore his hind claws grabbing purchase onto the ground under them, ignore the way he keeps his right paw just hovered above the ground, ignore it all.
The words she pooled screamed of anguish, did he care about the demons that circled about them? Nay. Did he care about why they all escaped? Nay. It did not matter, they where free, now the job was to cast them back from which they came. Lips gyrate around his canines, the unearthly rumble echoing from his throat.
Movement. She is instantly sailing toward him, her jaws parted, his throat the target. Foolish. Thoughts murmur as his eyes seethe the primitive rage that caged inside. Right front paw suddenly slams down into the ground, his hind paws forcibly shoving against the ground as his muscles grow taunt as he surges forward but to the right, allowing her jaws to snap shut on the left side of his neck just above the shoulder, even though it was protected by the layers of scruff and thick fur, the blood rises and stains his coat. Teeth sliding into his flesh, the nerves tearing at his skin, the man had to resist the urge to groan his pleasure. This is what it means to be alive of this he is sure.
But as soon as her jaws are latched upon his flesh, as soon as his nerves scream for rebuttal, his left forelimb slides inward, his left paw pushing against the ground as he attempts to rise a bit into the air. His right forelimb is then urged into action, swing upward as he attempts to place it on her shoulder and then shove downward. The creature?s head then tilts, so that the left side of his face is somewhere near her, and the right side is tilted upward toward the sky. In a surge of savagery the male separates his jaws, slashing downward in time with his right paw as he attempts to force her to the ground.
Salvia drips from the mans jaws, the snarl of retribution shaking from his stained body. Play time, what a pleasing thing.
The mere thought of playtime was enough to make his haunches quiver in anticipation. How long has it been since dear Imonde has had the chance to lay his teeth and weight into another being? Days? Weeks? Months? He couldn?t recall, his memory would flick between this victim and that, all of their faces blurred together in the fragmentation of his conscious. At first their names used to matter, he would stop and take a moment to ask them before he released them of their shells. But the sad aspect was after a period of time, even that made no difference. There was an intense pleasure to be had with the letting of blood, but the male was starting to realize as he aged that it was temporary. Each time he would have to consume more flesh, let more blood, and allow the skin of his humanity slide off his soul like an apple being peeled by an expert skinner.
Soon his thoughts where rudely interrupted it by the light female. Her words? He wondered if she was like Misha, another female that spoke words but cowered when invited to step outside and play. No. Imonde caught scent of this new girl at the scene of her extravagant crime. This alone solidified the notion that she would indeed come for his blood, and how exciting this thought was.
It was so exciting that his heart rapidly increased it?s pace inside of his chest. The male could almost feel his own atoms expanding, ready to transfuse blood across their membranes. His muscles where now a steady vibration under his coat, the fur rising along his spine, his tail remaining balanced behind him, his haunches lowering even more so toward the ground. The creature curled upward in anticipation, eyes narrowing as he yet again ignores her words, his eyes merely sliding along the base of her tail and the slope of her hips, the saliva pooling between jaws that were now easing open.
How delicious this would be. She continued to move, her words pushing against him, but his shoulders harkened his response as they round under him. His head draws back closer to his body, nose dipping against the peak of his chest, covering the tender portions of his throat. The fur that guards his neck scrunches, providing a protectively fleshly layer between him and incoming abuse.
Now she has his attention again, halting in front of him, denying his eyes the prize they where seeking. Pity. Then she expands, drawing upon her full height in front of him. What is she doing? His mind assess the situation, but more words make their way from her lips, this time she has his undivided attention, ignore the trembled of anticipation, ignore his hind claws grabbing purchase onto the ground under them, ignore the way he keeps his right paw just hovered above the ground, ignore it all.
The words she pooled screamed of anguish, did he care about the demons that circled about them? Nay. Did he care about why they all escaped? Nay. It did not matter, they where free, now the job was to cast them back from which they came. Lips gyrate around his canines, the unearthly rumble echoing from his throat.
Movement. She is instantly sailing toward him, her jaws parted, his throat the target. Foolish. Thoughts murmur as his eyes seethe the primitive rage that caged inside. Right front paw suddenly slams down into the ground, his hind paws forcibly shoving against the ground as his muscles grow taunt as he surges forward but to the right, allowing her jaws to snap shut on the left side of his neck just above the shoulder, even though it was protected by the layers of scruff and thick fur, the blood rises and stains his coat. Teeth sliding into his flesh, the nerves tearing at his skin, the man had to resist the urge to groan his pleasure. This is what it means to be alive of this he is sure.
But as soon as her jaws are latched upon his flesh, as soon as his nerves scream for rebuttal, his left forelimb slides inward, his left paw pushing against the ground as he attempts to rise a bit into the air. His right forelimb is then urged into action, swing upward as he attempts to place it on her shoulder and then shove downward. The creature?s head then tilts, so that the left side of his face is somewhere near her, and the right side is tilted upward toward the sky. In a surge of savagery the male separates his jaws, slashing downward in time with his right paw as he attempts to force her to the ground.
Salvia drips from the mans jaws, the snarl of retribution shaking from his stained body. Play time, what a pleasing thing.