[M] the devil made you look

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 04:18 AM

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Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

He was breathing heavily, but only half of it was from exertion. The skin around his wrists was marred by her claws, many little cuts growing steadily bloodier as her frenzy increased; But he felt no pain, could feel nothing but the fire within his body, the ultimate glory of power that thrilled him as no other. Triumph gave his bloodied arm strength, and though the damaged muscle that had taken the worst of her blows trembled with pain that he would soon feel, the man's grip about her throat was iron. Like a bulldog to the bait, he was relentless as she shook and heaved, snarled and scratched, a banshee caught by the hair.

Finally, suddenly, it stopped. Her body collapsed beneath him, and grew still; The frantic beating beneath his fingers slowing to a flutter. His bloody facade remained a mask of terror, awaiting some new burst of energy, yet none came. A soft sound permeated the ringing within his ears - A sound he had not heard her make for many, many moons.It was an eerie sound, misplaced amongst her ravaged, bloodied face, wrong to have been heard during his aroused frenzy, and it offset a strange portion of him.

Sirius blinked, and saw the strange glossiness of her eyes - Only then, slowly, did he ease the pressure from her throat. The entirety of his body thrummed and pulsed with a mass of excess energy, the build up of a fatal fight, one that the primal beast within him had been so determined to end in death or rape. But, monster though he was, Sirius was no true sadist, nor was he a murder unnecessarily. The businessman within him still held too much control for that. He teetered on the brink of it, certainly - His mind considered how her throat would taste as his fangs sank into it, how her body would feel as his own claimed it, dominated it, in the most poignant of ways - and yet slowly, acid eyes were left to focus on her battered form, the broken face that awaited him.

Suddenly, his sexual drive was gone, and in it's place was a deep feeling of repulsion. He rose swiftly, face betraying no hint of the searing agony in his arm; Black lips, one torn, writhed over his teeth in disgust. He spat at her, a glob of blood and saliva, before speaking in a voice that slided like rusted metal against his bloodied tongue. "Get out of my sight."

Perhaps this was mercy, but there were only thin strands of consciousness that were currently restraining him; If she showed any sign of disobedience, her death would have no such restraint.

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