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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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Once again the black monster was on the move; he played by his own rules and led the books in his own game. The game was to do anything and everything that he could do to make Jefferson Soul mad, and hurt him. Lucifer had raped just about every female that followed him, The monster took his hand rubbing his chest and his other hand held his male part as he marked a tree, one that he would kill his first female from, he would hang her from the tree. He found these games a blast, because he knew that as long as he covered his ass, and the female knew to keep their mouths shut that Jefferson wouldn’t come after him, but that game was getting boring. He wanted Jefferson to catch him, he wanted to him to watch him take a female, take away her pride, her hope. Then he wanted Jefferson the hard ass watch him kill that female with nothing more than one fluid move.
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All at once, blood both boiled and rushed ice through his veins; coat bristled, and alongside baring teeth was the extension of daggers in his hand... the only hand he had left.
Raising his snout to the air was totally unnecessary — he knew that smell, that stink, that reek of sin and lust. A cloud of such a thing, or perhaps a shadow, had lingered in and around the Valley for weeks, months on end. Jefferson always found the scent just moments too late, always in the wake of the crime, always just missing the shadow. Not this time. He was close. The demon was near. Too near — yet too smart to play with fire.
Breathing hot air from his nose, the cyclops moved like wind; no missing limb would restrain the rage that built with increasing fury at every pounding step, every heaving breath expelled from his lungs. Green eye glowed gold, like a merged emblem of Phoenix Valley, as if the pack's spirit possessed him in blind ferocity. He came upon Lucifer unhindered by silence and weaponry; claws of his single hand raised and extended, Jefferson released a horrible roar of a sound from the very depths of his throat, rising like hellfire from Satan's lair. Jowls released, morbid yet pearl daggers unsheathed from within, and at the dark man's throat he lunged.
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WC:300+
The black monster knew that she was playing with fire, being here and marking over the brown leader’s pack border markings, slowly and surely Lucifer knew that he was going to mark over all of Jefferson’s sent marking and then there was one last step was taking over the pack lands, and when he would have the pack lands to him-self he would have all the females that called these lands home. There was two ways, out. Lucifer knew how he was going to make sure that all the female knew him and feared him. Way one, death. Of course it wouldn’t be quick. It would be a long slow death where Lucifer would bleed them to death. The last and final way was though him, he would cover them, mate with them and they where sire him a litter of pups, and if the pups where up to his liking he would allow the female to leave. Then, and only then could they leave these lands alive.
Lucifer smiled seeing the brute baring at him, like a bullet from a gun. Lucifer squatted down ready for his attacker, as his other hand shadowed over the dagger that rested upon his hip. Surely his mother would not have wanted her dagger to be used in these means, but she was dead and it belonged to him now. The leap from the leader Lucifer hand came down and drew out the dagger as the other arm came up to his neck, protecting the weak area.
Feeling the monster place a death grip upon his arm Lucifer snarled as he drew his foot back, trying to kick him in the gut. The hand holding the dagger swung around trying to stab the male, as Lucifer eyes locked onto the brown male, the shimmer in the blue eyes mocked him. Knowing that everything he stood for, Lucifer had been able to destroy the morals of the lands in months, weeks and days.
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He moved not without reason, but without thought; these were the killer instincts that had summarized Maluki, the raw movements that had embodied the monster who had killed and raped more than Lucifer would ever know. Their combat was no more than criminal versus criminal, sinner against sinner; the cyclops did not believe in a good-always-prevails sentimentality, nor did he personify himself with that title. He was no good creature, no man of innocence: Deep down, Jefferson was no stronger, no better a creature than Lucifer himself. The Patriarch moved and struck for justice and for himself, lunging into a battle of clear disadvantages: The black male had over a year's youth on the cyclops, not to mention full use of all his limbs and, as the light caught the blade, the scarred man realized a weapon as well.
His assault at the man's throat unsurprisingly failed, but in his one-armed clutch Jefferson gripped Lucifer's arm; eye focused on the blade, the dark man drove a kick deep into the Patriarch's stomach, bursting the air from lungs and clamped teeth alike. Though he huffed loudly, he would not be daunted: Throwing the clutched hand to the side with a strength able to throw off his opponent's balance, Jefferson reached his single arm next for the weapon diving for his flesh. In one quick movement, the Patriarch seized the dark man's wrist and twisted, turning the blade upright towards the sky and warping Lucifer's arm uncomfortably backwards. A snarl rising from his throat, the scarred man kicked up a foot at the dagger's heel — one swift connect would send the dagger flying and out of the way. [/html]
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The searing pain that shot though his arm, Lucifer snarled as he twisted his head to the side, to bite down upon anything that his mouth could bite down upon. The brown male had a death grip upon his arms, and it had seemed that kicking him in the gut did not help get the male away from him; Lucifer had thought that this was going to be fairly easy. Stab him once maybe twice, and the male would submit to him or either die. Either way, Lucifer would walk away knowing that he could once again go back to doing whatever he so pleased. That was the plan of course and sometime, just sometimes the plans do not happen as planned. With one fluid motion like he had been planning and plotting for this day for years, maybe since the day they first meet. The brown male knocked the dagger out of his hand, and then twisted this arm into one of the most painful places. Lucifer wanted to shred him, kill him, maw him. Every little thing that he could do to hurt the male, and maybe even kill. The black monster was quickly brought down to his knees trying to twist out of the embrace that Jefferson had his arm in. His eyes watched the male, trying to time his moves and his breathing as his black hand swiftly went out at his thought. With a soft laugh Lucifer watched the one eyed monster. ”Awww you missed me that much you want to play rough?”
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A raw, wicked laugh erupted from his lips at the sable man's chortle; Jefferson threw a foot against his back as if to hold him down, and tightened the devil's arm against his back and furthering the painful twist. Senses alert, Jefferson knew any advantage he brought over Lucifer would mean the male would lash back with double the power; with youth, strength and an extra limb on his side, Lucifer could overtake Jefferson in a heartbeat should he really intend it — but that did not mean the Patriarch would go down.
"Oh, I missed you," the cyclops hissed, daggered fingers digging into the arm, and with a roar jowls parted and lashed for the man's throat in a quick movement. [/html]
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