10-09-2009, 06:24 PM
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The village was nestled away in the heart of the woods, secluded and distant from all other human settlements. It could have been created by luperci, save the telltale signs of aging and obvious abandonment. It had been a long time since this little village had been a bustling, thriving little town—longer than the luperci had been around. A few days had seen the coyote inhabiting the ghost-village, exploring all of its secrets and marvels. The entire place stank of dust and decay, but he was already used to that in the abandon cities and towns he so often found himself haunting. Another soul had joined him in exploration and Samael was briefly intrigued by its presence. Trailing the willowy hybrid like a ghost, he watched as he entered one of the houses.
Crimson eyes gleaming bloodlust in the shadows, he briefly contemplated murder, but decided against it. Wolves were the lesser species, and this creature appeared to hold more coyote blood than anything else. Oh, it would be so easy to follow him into the crumbling building and end his life in one swift blow, but the pleasure would only last a few short seconds. It would be akin to nothing more than a quick orgasm, so brief and beautiful that he adored and craved it continually, living his life until the next. But he also understood this little creature could prove amusing to him in more ways than one, and could be reused while alive. He needed to discriminate when killing, and so he’d allow a coyote to walk away unscathed.
The reciting of an explicit poem caught his attention and Samael moved closer, listening. Arm delicately embracing the open doorframe, leaning his torso against the aged wood, he peered coyly at the lithe hybrid within. “Sounds lovely,” he commented, with the ironic, apathetic voice of an inattentive viewer. Yet sharp, violent gaze was directed at none but the yearling bathed in shadow. “You look delicious, pretty boy,” the hell prince continued, his lust an unadulterated, fathomless force driving behind his every action. He wished to tear him into tiny, unrecognizable little tattered pieces, but he’d settle for a simple fuck instead.
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The village was nestled away in the heart of the woods, secluded and distant from all other human settlements. It could have been created by luperci, save the telltale signs of aging and obvious abandonment. It had been a long time since this little village had been a bustling, thriving little town—longer than the luperci had been around. A few days had seen the coyote inhabiting the ghost-village, exploring all of its secrets and marvels. The entire place stank of dust and decay, but he was already used to that in the abandon cities and towns he so often found himself haunting. Another soul had joined him in exploration and Samael was briefly intrigued by its presence. Trailing the willowy hybrid like a ghost, he watched as he entered one of the houses.
Crimson eyes gleaming bloodlust in the shadows, he briefly contemplated murder, but decided against it. Wolves were the lesser species, and this creature appeared to hold more coyote blood than anything else. Oh, it would be so easy to follow him into the crumbling building and end his life in one swift blow, but the pleasure would only last a few short seconds. It would be akin to nothing more than a quick orgasm, so brief and beautiful that he adored and craved it continually, living his life until the next. But he also understood this little creature could prove amusing to him in more ways than one, and could be reused while alive. He needed to discriminate when killing, and so he’d allow a coyote to walk away unscathed.
The reciting of an explicit poem caught his attention and Samael moved closer, listening. Arm delicately embracing the open doorframe, leaning his torso against the aged wood, he peered coyly at the lithe hybrid within. “Sounds lovely,” he commented, with the ironic, apathetic voice of an inattentive viewer. Yet sharp, violent gaze was directed at none but the yearling bathed in shadow. “You look delicious, pretty boy,” the hell prince continued, his lust an unadulterated, fathomless force driving behind his every action. He wished to tear him into tiny, unrecognizable little tattered pieces, but he’d settle for a simple fuck instead.