For whatever unknown reasons, the banshee?s body had decided to fool about with the desires of her mind; hormones teasing and taunting her as they plagued on for longer than they should have. A dame?s first season should have been shorter if anything, why was Eos? dragging itself on for longer? She had fought the natural desires somewhat effortlessly before, but as the sun began to rise in the four corners of her kingdom, a nudging and snide covet began to swirl ever-more ferociously. Her womb, void of life, craved so deeply to be with brood; and what better a time to do so than now? Hell, Eos wasn?t the pup kind at all; there was no doubting her care for her children would be loose, sparse. But in that moment she hadn?t been thinking ?life?, but thinking of the moment she would share with her mate, how it would bring them together. She stood in the opens of the vast, hoary grassland, tail flagging lightly behind her, cranium revolving with awareness; and she would let a few, fleeting barks flee the chasms of her throat; A half-hearted call for her brother to bring himself to her, to satisfy the craving that stirred so mercilessly within her loins.

He was not in the least a perfect gentleman, but he would wait his time, bid his moments, before the carnal instincts that he were bred to thrive upon became the basis of his existence, before he acted on them with wrath and completely and total self idolatry. He would find her, the woman's voice, caressing his ears in wanton need. immediately his flesh would crawl with the urgency to please her, to settle the fire within his Queen's stomach, and yet, he would take his sweet time in gathering himself for her, in moving her way. A sway to his head, slavering jaws, he finally would come before her, his eyes dancing across her svelte frame, everything screams of why he is summoned, and yet, he denies he knows such things, "You called, ma reine?" Words slither from his tongue in eagerness, a serpentine trickery to them as he seethes before her in utter silence.

He entered her presence with no less splendour than customary, his potent male stench sending the muscles of her hinds into a momentary spasm of thrill; ticking and twitching beneath russet leather as nostrils eagerly devoured his leeching hormones. He would pause, and it would execute her silently, the distance that leaked between the pair would send an almost irritated scowl blossoming to her jaws, ears snapping against her skull as her body grew ever-impatient. Was he not meant to be the one that wanted it more than she? The male population was were meant to be uncontrollable sex-machines, were they not? And yet there she was, chassis beginning to tremor as endless cravings continued to claw at her spine; the vibrations of her aching body no less than obvious to her brothers, apparently oblivious eye. Her irritancy only grew as they stood in a few brief moments of silence, tail rising alongside her hackles. She wouldn?t say it, she refused to. Perhaps she could taunt him? Hell, she barely knew how. Instead she would creep forward, a painful sluggishness in each prudent stride, her shoulders dropping to carry her lower to the ground. Beneath him now, jaws would reach up; and without further warning she would snarl, snapping at the loose skin that enveloped his tender throat. She would hope to achieve a hold here, and she wouldn?t allow him his freedom; endless gargling echoed her voice-box, flustered growls that muffled between tense lips as a flurry of mixed emotions would envelope body and mind. The queen was aggravated, misplaced, lust seeping through her pores only to be drowned by the false-anger that prickled her pelt. To hell if he could mess with her; he would give her her satisfaction, even if she had to fight for it first.

IT suited her well that she would be so forcible, that in her moment of bodily ache she would become more ravenous, that her icy glaze would become something nations would simply die for. The wanton lust that brewed in the man would not be revocable for long, and he too would succumb to the same fury that enticed her. Eyes remained pinned to the woman, his offer going unanswered, and yet her movement would not go without notice. A smile would come to taunt her, growing restless on his black lips, and his bony muzzle would aim to turn against the skull of her head. The warmth of her breast angling not far from his own where in the arch of her neck, her head, her spine would turn against him, teeth aiming for collateral damage of the charade she was putting on. Such fine grace, delectable. He seethes in his uncontrollable thirst, the electricity of her body, her volatile touch. More more more!

Ivories snake around his throat, his most vulnerable region, and he only responds by leaning into her, by pressing his head downward. onto her skull. She is allowed the chance to kill him, but alas, he knows she will not take it. Body angles slightly to the right after his right leg attempts to take a step forward, turning to his left he would aim to angle the limb into her side, her left shoulder, there he would attempt to push the woman into the ground, his feral warnings clear, his dire hunger for her growing more prevalent with the passing moments. Tongue would dare to slither from behind a cage of teeth and skin, where he would aim to serenade her with a kiss behind her skull. Eos! Damn you! You'll be the end of me! and yet it pushed him, an ordinance to please, a swear to be enough always forever.

The red fiend would more than tolerate her influential grasp, leaning into the pressure of her jaws, jugular pounding against the roof of her sweltering mouth. A fine path of saliva would begin to crawl down his coffer, the banshee?s hold maintaining potency as the monster?s being seemed to simmer with lust beneath her grasp. Good, let him feel the aching pain he had recently forced upon his lover, let him bathe in the merciless touch of lust as she denied him as much he had denied her. But his tolerance would not last, the powerful forcing of a fore-limb would take advantage of her bodies quivering instability; sending the lady scrambling into her side in a fleeting fit of shrilled yowls. Pain? Don?t kid yourself. Hatred? Hardly. She basked within every moment, struggling beneath the weight of his body with a roaring pleasure she had never before experienced. Jaws would reach ambitiously for the limb that had forced her athwart, clamping it within her orifice, barely hard enough to maintain her hold; simultaneously Syrinx would lean over her, causing raging thrashes of electricity to pulsate her skin as the sensation of his tongue only encouraged her more ravenously on. She wanted him so badly; would he really deny himself of her now? Torso would begin to roll, releasing her grasp upon his appendage; he had shown her his vigor, he had proven to her he was worthy of fulfilling her desires. Would he claim his prize? Limbs would stretch in an attempt to raise her body once more, silent now, spine arching to push against the base of his throat with her nape. She would swivel in taunt, haunches pressing to his chest, only momentarily before she would turn again. But all the while she would maintain contact, creeping along his side with her own, pressing her shoulders to his haunches as salmon tongue would stray thirstily down the back of his leg; chasing it to the earth before beginning again, but this time she would attempt to knaw, nibbling fondly at the divot of his thigh, encouraging him, keeping her own haunches to his ribs, tail twitching faintly from side to side.

basking in the delight of her touch, the warmth that coursed through him, he would continue to shove, to lock her in his ravenous ways, to push her over the brink, to urge and conform not to her wishes nor societies nonsensical reigns, but to his own forebodings. He could feel the pressure applied as teeth grasped his forearm, as they pulled at the muscles with ease, dancing over his skin and leaving the scratches and markers that they would. do you like to make me bleed, ma reine? the question; it were not for her, but it was certainly a punctual thought to be held, and held it was as she was turned from him, forced away following the superior weight he had over her. Things such as themselves, two vampyres, locked in a battle, not of mortality or of war without relent, but that of a wanton tango. Enticed by her turns and twists he pulls towards her, aiming to allow her the ability to stand to lean into him as she would wish. amusement is perhaps the easiest way to describe the feature that claims his face, as he waits in exhilarating anxiety for whatever she beheld for him yet.

Spine would turn and she would angle herself alongside him, tongue and teeth dancing over his thigh and immediately he would press his head over the arch of her hip, leaning with perfect precision into her, daunting and ever so promiscuous he lavishes her hip in kisses, not afraid to bite her flesh, to pull at the fur that adorns her so well, and it is without regret that he is tempted by her touch, her warmth, his prize being so perfectly displayed for him, and it goes with little warning that his hips rotated from her side, that his fore-arms leave the ground and aim to embrace her sides, to lock them together. It would not be with gentleness that his teeth would grasp her nape and pull at the flesh, fur, and fat that encased her neck. Want. Want. Want. A constant mantra in his head demanding release and without hesitation, without the thought more he consecrated their promise to one another, conjoined them in what they both so yearned for, and allowed her to bathe in her lust so resolute.

-fade tooooo red!-

And so the beast would give in to his desires, and his mates requests; quivering beneath her touch before he would unite the sibling pair in a life-giving embrace. She would stabilize her limbs to support his colossal weight, growling and snapping momentarily with satisfaction as the red beast bared jaws to grasp at russet-laced scruff. It was far from an image of perfection, brother and sister, locked together in natures twisted clinch; swaying in unison as the babe?s womb was bequested with potential life. Their children would be burly, unbeatable, doubling their parents abilities and ambitions. Insignificant sphere?s of war that would serve beneath their parents until stretching far beyond the lands of Glaciem. Alacritis was aware of the powers of the Adravendi, but had they ever seen that clout, that capability, doubled? Soon they would. And it would be magnificent. ---- fade to? purple. O.o ----