[M] Dark Souls

Helotes Lykoi · 01-04-2012, 07:39 PM

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Word Count :: 606 OOC

He had been so enraptured by the soft, stroking pleasure on his cock that he had barely noticed when Halo decided to make him bleed. The burn of pain finally pushed pass the block of sexual numbness in his brain and a strange twisted sound, one that sounded like a whining bark and snarl combined, ripped forth from his throat. He relished the pain then, as her claws dug into the flesh of his back and raked down, caused him to bend his spine in blissful agony. Helotes’ skin was thick, but her claws were razors and though in any other situation the tearing of his flesh might have caused anger and discomfort in this case it just made the sex that much more satisfying.

Her ferocity did not diminish him, the only thing the cuts she caused served was to delay the inevitable and prolong the journey. With the spiking throbs of pain now shooting through him, his sexual energy peeked, a sensation that nearly trumped orgasm, and where one paw rested on her thigh and the other moved to her upper arm, claws descended deep into flesh. What had been pinpricks before were now full puncture wounds, the crimson liquid as entrancing as her eyes was drawn from her body to make small glittering pools on the fur of the pelts before melting into dark stains.

Then her teeth found him, alabaster fangs sinking into the muscle of his shoulder which cramped at the pressure. Helotes snarled anew; he knew what she was doing now. While Zana had cried out in ecstasy at his touch she had left him unscathed; the Triarii bitch was not as forgiving. She was marking him, in her own cruel way, to show the world that he had come to her and she had taken him, and it was something he would not soon forget. But Helotes would not let Halo off so easily, no, for as much as he knew she took pride in a visage unscathed, he would not let her forget him so easily either.

Massive jaws then clamped down upon the opposite shoulder now, and the Lykoi male did not hold back the power of pressure, and he soon tasted the hot, metallic flavor of his cousin’s blood on his tongue. It tasted glorious, spicy in comparison to the dull, disgusting taste of wolf’s blood, it was no wonder that sometimes coyotes would turn on their own. Helotes’ pupils were pinpricks, sweat building underneath his fur creating a sweet musk that quickly filled the room. He pulled away, thick strings of blood still tying his teeth to her dermis, and he looked upon her, her teeth and lips stained red with his own blood. It was too much.

The pleasure became unbearable, and Helotes’ finally could not retain the physical urges and his loins let loose the deluge of his seed into her unfortunately unaccepting womb. A deep and throaty half-howl came forth from him at the apex of his pleasure as it seemed all the heat was pouring from him into her. And then, the swelling, the knot of him growing to tie the two together in a physical prison that would last for some time even after the energy of the moment had faded. His breath sounded like the breathing of a dragon, as he looked down at his most perfect conquest; she was marred down, claw and teeth marks having ripping the usually untouched wrapping of her feminine form. He leaned down then to lap at the still dripping crimson at her shoulder; it was sweeter than any wine, and more intoxicating.

Image courtesy of Brujo+; Table by the Mentors!

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