Post by Sporky on Jun 20, 2010 1:17:20 GMT -5
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Tiny droplets of warm lifeblood dripped onto the floor. What had once fuelled the soul of a talented and happy young songstress now temporarily quenched his thirst. He tossed her to the floor, where she lay twitching, barely alive. If, fore some unforeseen reason, she did survive this experience, she would sing no more. He had guaranteed that.
He walked to the balcony, and leaned on it, staring out at the city-state he ruled. The moon was high in the sky, casting her pale light on the desert city. The city that, through his will and funding, had risen anew, like a phoenix from the ashes. She was beautiful, truly. The buildings, from the brick and steel modern ones to the ‘retro’ ones built of claystone. Then there was his palace. The heart of the city. Yellow-white stone formed the majority of her construction, though he had insisted on massive black and white marble pillars surrounding her.
His ears flicked at the sound of feet padding across the bedroom. Soft, feminine paws caressed his shoulders, moving down his back to stroke his wings. He arched his back, and smiled. “Hello to you too,” he said softly, parting his wings as he felt his empress embrace him, resting her chin on his neck. He gently held her head, leaning his own against hers. They remained like this for some time, just enjoying each other’s presence.
After a few moments, he felt the lick on his neck that was so very familiar to him. He gave the tiniest of nods, then bit his lip as he felt the rush of pleasure brought on by the flesh of his neck being penetrated by unnaturally sharp fangs. Again, they remained in place, a twisted version of the loving embrace they had shared moments ago. She drank from him, and he stood there, enjoying the dark pleasure it brought. Pleasure only their kind knew of.
Eventually, the fangs withdrew, and she embraced him again. She continued to lap at the wound she had made for a while, before once again resting her chin on his neck. Again, they stood in silence for some time, before she nudged his head and let out a playful growl. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that the dying husk of a girl on our bedroom floor is the one who called me a copycat. Hmmm?”
He chuckled nervously, and hung his head. The things a man would do for his wife.
Tiny droplets of warm lifeblood dripped onto the floor. What had once fuelled the soul of a talented and happy young songstress now temporarily quenched his thirst. He tossed her to the floor, where she lay twitching, barely alive. If, fore some unforeseen reason, she did survive this experience, she would sing no more. He had guaranteed that.
He walked to the balcony, and leaned on it, staring out at the city-state he ruled. The moon was high in the sky, casting her pale light on the desert city. The city that, through his will and funding, had risen anew, like a phoenix from the ashes. She was beautiful, truly. The buildings, from the brick and steel modern ones to the ‘retro’ ones built of claystone. Then there was his palace. The heart of the city. Yellow-white stone formed the majority of her construction, though he had insisted on massive black and white marble pillars surrounding her.
His ears flicked at the sound of feet padding across the bedroom. Soft, feminine paws caressed his shoulders, moving down his back to stroke his wings. He arched his back, and smiled. “Hello to you too,” he said softly, parting his wings as he felt his empress embrace him, resting her chin on his neck. He gently held her head, leaning his own against hers. They remained like this for some time, just enjoying each other’s presence.
After a few moments, he felt the lick on his neck that was so very familiar to him. He gave the tiniest of nods, then bit his lip as he felt the rush of pleasure brought on by the flesh of his neck being penetrated by unnaturally sharp fangs. Again, they remained in place, a twisted version of the loving embrace they had shared moments ago. She drank from him, and he stood there, enjoying the dark pleasure it brought. Pleasure only their kind knew of.
Eventually, the fangs withdrew, and she embraced him again. She continued to lap at the wound she had made for a while, before once again resting her chin on his neck. Again, they stood in silence for some time, before she nudged his head and let out a playful growl. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that the dying husk of a girl on our bedroom floor is the one who called me a copycat. Hmmm?”
He chuckled nervously, and hung his head. The things a man would do for his wife.