Red Nightmares at Midnight

Sometime around midnight, Dante staggered from his study, more than half drunk and not giving a shit. He needed a shower and about a week’s worth of uninterrupted sleep. Wasn’t likely to get either, in his sloshed state. Not one, not two, not three, but six whiskey bottles littered his cherry-top desk. Lucille had bitched at him until he finally told her to shut the fuck up and get the hell away from his study. He didn’t need any mothering computer to poke her metallic nose in his shit when he was trying to get sensibly drunk. But he was in a mood, damnit and everything else could just trample off. Miraculously he made it to his bedroom, Lucille not even closing the door unless instructed to. Dante pulled from his closet his guitar and amp, plugging it in and plunking down in his chair, running long skilled fingers over the strings. It’d been a while since he’d been drunk enough to play, but by God, he’d do his damndest. Closing his eyes, he tuned the guitar expertly, adjusting the volume on the amplifier, slowly and easily settling into a slow bluesy melody, tapping a bare foot with the swanky rhythm. He might not be able to carry a tune in a bucket, but by damn, the man could play the guitar, and well. He just had to be in the right mood. That being partially pissed and more than a little drunk.



Douglass : At first she'd thought something had gone wrong with her CD player, eyeing the thing questioningly she stopped it to check the CD; it was then that she realized the music was coming from somewhere else. The chords weren't familiar; no song she ever recalled hearing; legs slipping to the floor she hoisted herself up and followed the sounds; stopping at Dante's bedroom door, she leaned against the jam, unsure about entering. True she'd entered without his permission to change the sheets; but that was just a courtesy; this was impeding. The corners of her mouth curled into a light smile as she watched him sitting there, strumming the guitar strings. Had to admit; he was pretty damn good. Her head quirked thoughtfully as arms crossed under her chest, toe beginning to lightly tap along to the beat.



The music wasn’t written, it merely lived and thrived in his human soul. Eyes closed and brow furrowed as he played, dexterous fingers moved over the strings as the melody slithered from the amp to fill the room. It wasn’t often he could play, but he sometimes wished he could just throw it all away and go herd goats somewhere. Yet, the music held an edge to it, that of restraint. It wasn’t completely free. Because he wasn’t. He could never relax his will, never truly cease fighting. To do so would be to unleash the beast that lurked inside. And that he’d never do. He would not dishonor his father’s name. So he played on, completely unaware of his audience until he ran out of chords for that particular piece and let the last throbbing note fade quietly, opening blue eyes to see Douglass leaning against the door. Turing a tuning knob slightly, he didn’t speak for a minute, but finally had to break the silence quietly. “Was I disturbing?”



Douglass : "No, you were quite good." She eyed the inside of the room a moment, "May I?"



Dante quirked a brow, but shrugged. “If you wish.” He let his fingers idly drift over the strings, playing around with a few chords and skittering a bit, trying to find something that fit his mood.



Douglass : She entered cautiously; slipping onto the end of the bed nearest him. Hazel eyes drifted over his frame; something wasn't right; there was a hesitation in his movements; so slight that it was nearly un-noticeable; but she picked up on it immediately. As she sat before him; the smell hit her; he'd been drinking. "Dante, what's wrong?"



He grinned, flashing a brilliant white smile. “I’m drunk. Or should be, anyways. God knows, Lucille’s bitched about it enough.” He continued to diddle with the strings, humming quietly, not completely on-key, but close enough. For a surprising change. His ear was always better when he’d been swilling liquor.



Douglass : Oy; he would be the death of her. "I can see that; but why are you drunk?"



A snort. “Cause I been drinking, Douglass.”



Douglass : "Jesus Fucking Christ…" this was going nowhere. She shook her head and sat back; "Fine."



Dante stopped his fiddling with the strings and leaned back in his upholstered chair, leveling a look on the woman. “What difference does it make what’s wrong? It’s the same old shit, different damned day. I’m annoyed, irritated, hungry, need a bath, and am damned tired of having to run out every half hour to ‘save the fucking world’. Why can’t it just save itself for three seconds? Shit.” He snorted and rolled his eyes, waving a hand. “Besides, it’s nothing you ain’t heard before, so why do you have to ask? I believe you women call it PMS. Well, men don’t have a name for it, but it’s basically the same thing, but be damned if I haul my ass out to Lilly’s for it.”



Douglass : "Yeah, I get the idea." She stood up, going to the door; apparently he needed a self pity-party. But as she crossed the threshold, his last sentence entered her mind; "Who, or what, is Lilly's?" She turned and looked back at him, unsure.



He squinted at her as she stormed to the door. “’At’s fine, Douglass, run, just like you always do. Close the fuckin’ door on the way out.” He zipped fingers over the strings. “And Lilly’s a rather high-priced whore downtown. Yet for some strange reason, I never have to pay her.”



Douglass : She blinked at him; a whore? But that's not what got her; what got her was his latter comment; "Yeah that's right Dante; I'm running. I go six doors down the hall; and as soon as you start crying I'm right back in here; running just like I did last night." She forced blond tresses away from her face; shaking her head in disbelief; "You know, I really don't know what to do when it comes to you; my presence does nothing but annoy you; and as soon as I give you some space you're bitching me out for running away. Please explain this to me because I just don't fucking get it."



An extreme look of consternation crossed his face as he leaned forward elbows on knees, white hair falling over his eyes. “Have I ever said you annoy me, Douglass? Or do you just assume so? Hm?” He snorted, leaning back, returning to his plucking. “Pft, fuck it. I’m too drunk to give a shit and you’re getting mad. A no win situation. Just go if you damned well want to.” But his teeth set. “And next time I start bawling, feel free to just let me die in peace.”



Douglass : She was exasperated; hit me, slap me, break my legs but just stop talking. Words stung deeper than any amount of physical pain ever could. "God," she uttered, just slumping down on the foot of the bed; heels of her hands pressing against her temples; just what was she supposed to do?



“He doesn’t answer,” Dante replied absently, starting in on another slow song. “Trust me on it.”



Douglass : She just sat there; blond tresses spilling out between sprawled fingers; what in the hell was she supposed to do? Eyes closed as he began playing; listening to the chords, she tried not to picture him with a whore; but she couldn't help it; the girl from the bar, that's what she saw. Do I stay? Do I go? I'm damned if I do; and damned if I don't. But something cut into her mind; something so clean and fresh she'd forgotten it was there; 'Be strong doll face; hold true.' Alright Daddy, I will. She let her arms drop, folding over the ends of her knees.



Dante just closed his eyes again and played on, settling into another blues rhythm, humming along to the dark melody leaving the amplifier. Brows furrowed as he just let his fingers drift over the strings, no rhyme or reason to his playing, just drifting along with the song. True freedom, that.



Douglass : She rose from her seat, taking in a deep breath; here goes nothing. She walked over to where he sat, standing but an arms length away. As his most recent song dwindled down to an end, she swallowed; "Do you remember telling me to be careful?"



Opening one eye to gaze up at her, a bit unfocused, he stilled fingers and opened the other, having to blink in effort to remember. “…Sorta. I think so. Not really. Kinda fuzzy at the moment.” But an eyebrow arched. “Dare I ask why?”



Douglass : She knelt down next to him, one knee resting in the lush carpet. One hand rested upon the arm of the chair, the other went crossways, dashing across her middle. "I'm done being careful Dante; the rest is up to you." She looked into his eyes, seeing the haze of a drunken stupor.



Usually he took more care with his expensive toys, but whether it was from surprise or post-drunken-twitchiness, he just plunked the guitar down beside the chair, the strings protesting quietly. Dante stared down at Douglass hard, kneeling before his chair. There was no hint of playfulness in those now dark indigo eyes. He’d not moved, yet he’d changed from nearly happy-go-lucky drunken buffoon to personified predator, still and cold. “Douglass…” he hissed quietly, “you better know exactly what you’re playing with before you tempt it…” The one warning she’d get.



Douglass : She just looked him right back in the eye; her own visuals unmoving, unscathed by his sudden mood swing; he had the mood swings of an old woman. "Educate me," it wasn't a challenge, just a statement. "Believe me Dante, you're not the only one that's been taking cold showers lately."



Somewhere, some part of his brain dictated this little conversation madness; the other couldn’t believe it was taking place. “Douglass…” he began, but shook his head and sighed. In one smooth movement he got to his feet, hands grasping her upper arms, pulling her up with him. He was about six inches taller, a bit of an awkward angle, but Dante was versatile if he was anything. Lowering his head, lips whispered gently at the outer shell of her ear, “What shall I teach, Douglass…?” as blunted nails of one hand drew down the indentation of her spine, the natural heat of his body inherent in just a touch. Nose gently nuzzled the pulse at her throat as words were mouthed against her skin. “I have to know where to start…”



Douglass : Her muscles ached as shivers went down the very spine he drug nails down; part of her screamed that this was a bad idea; to stop the insanity at once, but part of her cried for more, yearned for the touch of a lover. Her head rolled to one side, opening up her neck for him, her own hands moved up his back, fingers tracing lightly over the sinewy muscles that contracted and stretched beneath the skin; her tongue split her lips, dampening them before speech; "Teach me what I tempt; I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with." The words were spoken to the ceiling, her head rocked back in lustful wanting.



Shoulders shuddered just slightly under the slight touch, thanks to years of pain and scars. But Dante resolutely forced his brain back from the base instinct that slowly began to heat beneath his skin. Fingers of both hands met at the small of her back, parting to slide slowly upwards along her ribs, sensitive digits leaving small trails of heat in their wake. They drifted, mapping the contours of flesh along her back and sides, trailing tapered tips along the colored scars that decorated her body, so like the hands of a wandering lover. Teeth lightly scraped the edges of the beating pulse before he lifted his head to stare down at her upturned face through hooded eyes, gone dark and hazy. “You know what you’re dealing with, Douglass,” he answered huskily, breath wafting across her lips, about an inch below his mouth. “You’ve seen it…touched it…all you have to do is accept it.”



Douglass : Eyes opened to scarce slits; "I did that a long time ago." Petal soft lips partially parted brushed against the tender flesh of his neck; they quivered slightly; as if to speak words not attainable by the human mouth. Feather soft fingers of the right hand continued to dance across his back; leaving behind a trail of barley attainable sensation. The left hand traced around his ribs, following the contours of an uneven scar. To the point that it disappeared under the cuff of his jeans her touch followed that mapped route; then after it disappeared from yet attainable flesh, her fingers diverted upward, eventually ending up angling off down his shoulder.



It was strange, this situation. But he accepted it, had been yearning for touch for damn near eleven years. He didn’t stop her fingers, merely let her explore at her leisure. He was known as a gentle and light lover, for good reason. What burned and roiled within his blood. Control. He had to keep it, else…the alternative wasn’t even feasible. So he forced the snarling thing back down, way down and locked the cage, making it snap and gnash inside. But he would ignore it by God. He returned hands to the small of her back, splayed fingers just resting against her hips. A ragged sigh left his mouth as he swallowed to the almost innocent brush of lips against his throat. One hand drifted to mussed blonde locks, fingers tangling in the tousled strands, pulling her head back slightly as his own lowered, a tentative brush of lips as he kissed her softly, a mere caress of skin to skin.



Douglass : She allowed it; his lips to press against hers; but she would not return the gesture. To kiss; it was something of such a deep connection, a connection she had yet to find. They passed lightly away from his, moved down to just below his chin; just under his jaw line. Lips touched lightly to flesh, and her tongue joined them, pressing delicately against his skin. Fingers of the left hand moved back up his arm, ventured over the crook of his neck to find the nape; daring to tantalize the fine hairs that resided at the base of the skull. Right hand moved down his frame, slender fingers dragging along the small of his back, just atop the hem of his pants.



All right, xnay that. Lifting his head a bit, lashes fluttered closed over smoky blue eyes as gooseflesh littered his skin beneath her gentle mouth. Dante bit back a groan at the fingers playing with his hair; that’d be the death of him surely. Maneuvering his foot, he pushed the guitar fully out of the way and sat back down in the large chair, pulling her down astride his lap. Hands splayed at her hips, he shifted her around a bit, getting her more settled against his hips. “Ah, better,” he murmured with a snarky smile. “Now I don’t have to crane my neck…” So saying, he leaned up a bit, lips pressing into the hollow of her collarbone, teeth grazing slightly along the protrusion of bone. Soothing the minute pain with wet laps of his tongue, fingers splayed over her rump, strong hands pressing her up to his mouth and hands. Digits slipped beneath her top, sliding slowly up her ribs, only to find the way barred by damnable women’s contraptions. Brows furrowed as teeth sunk into her pulse just a bit, licking the stings away as he removed one hand, flexed his fingers and growled softly as only his fingers shifted, nails extending into taloned claws. With one quick movement, he slid the sharp nails down her back, slicing the restricting garments from her body, yet never touched her skin. Fuck it, he’d buy her new ones. Forcing his talons to recede, he replaced his hands on her sides, slowly trailing fingers up her ribs, thumbs brushing beneath her breasts, calloused pads trailing over the soft side-swell of flesh as lips and tongue continued to map her throat, a rumbling sigh escaping beneath her ear, teeth nipping lightly on the fleshy lobe.



Douglass : Damn good thing she'd chosen to pull on a clean pair of workout clothes instead of jeans; the restricting denim just might have made this difficult. Legs parted, angling wide to accommodate his lap beneath her. The slightest of shivers rippled across tender flesh as his fingers pressed to the bare surfaces of her skin; but she gasped slightly; quick breaths sucked in through a slightly agape mouth; she could feel his hands upon her right side. The trails his fingers forged burned like wildfire along her body; she didn't have to imagine his touch; it was real. As he nibbled at her collar bone, her own head bowed forward; blond tresses spilling over both of them; pressing her cheek to the side of his head, hands roamed down his torso as the bra straps fell loose; either he was damn talented, or he'd just ripped them away; oh well, not like she only had one. Lacey fingers sprawled wide over the curves of his sides, just adjacent to his belly-button; ever so lightly nails dragged back and forth, so gentle, so light. They moved downward, pressing ever closer to the hem of his jeans; thumbs curling into faded denim belt loops she pulled slightly; firmly but lightly.



Of their own accord, his hips rose to her slight insistence, back bowing off the chair a bit. Roaming over her shoulders, one hand fisted in the thick blond hair, pulling her head back and inducing her to lean back over his arm as skilled lips trailed moist soft kisses down the column of her throat, tongue delving into the valley between her breasts. The free hand, the right, crept around to her front, feathering splayed digits across the fine muscles of her stomach, fingers trailing upwards to cup the full globe of the left breast, rough palm harsh against the sensitive tip. Steel muscles beneath his own flesh rippled and jumped under her seeking fingers, responding eagerly to her soft almost hesitant touches. Eyes closed, he carefully drew his tongue across the mound of one globe, spiraling his unhurried way to circle the aching tip with his tongue; teeth caught the nipple and pulled it into his mouth, lips closing and sucking gently, then harder, feasting on her warm flesh even as his hand paid utmost attention to the other, fingers manipulating and enticing, calloused skin rough upon velvet smooth. Yet there was still the tentativeness; he was waiting for her to push him away, decline and refuse. Ears were attuned to the slightest noise of assent or demur.



Douglass : She moaned softly, nipples becoming firm under his tongue and touch; delicately drawn tattoos glinted against the cream colored hue of her breast; the contrast sharpening as sensitive nerve endings pulled under his caress. Her left hand left his belt; textured finger tips pushing away his tussled platinum locks; starting at the temple and brushing back until slender digits became entangled at the back of his head. Fingers pulsed ever so slightly, gently ruminating through the soft strands. The arch of her back caused full woman's hips to push into him; push against that which made him a man.



He tilted his head into her touch, the sensation of fingers in his hair arousing him further and his head lifted, giving her breast a perfunctory lick, slightly glassy eyes opening to stare up at her as she pushed against him, denim rasping against cotton. His blood pressure was rising, slowly licking fire through his already heated blood. Parting his lips to run his tongue over the lower, he deftly slid his hand from her chest down her stomach, deft fingers following the line of the tattooed scar, dipping skillfully beneath the waist of her pants. Indigo eyes never leaving hers, his hand slipped lower between her thighs, pads of fingers pressing against her through the thin cotton barrier that separated flesh from flesh. With a flick of his thumb, the digit slipped beneath and stroked along the warm moist folds, gently seeking and finding the small muscle that awaited a soft touch.



Douglass : His hands were heaven; her flesh felt alive beneath his warm, encompassing touch. As calloused fingers slid down the contours of her tinted scar; a low, yearning moan escaped nearly quivering lips. Fading hazel eyes remained on the deep, cerulean hue before her, even as fingers slipped beneath the hem of her undergarments. She found herself wishing, wanting to imagine that nothing but a woman's body resided beneath those protective barriers; those barriers that kept her hidden form the worlds eyes. Just above the sensitive clitoris, and slightly off to the left; a quarter sized, irregularly shaped scar bit the sacred flesh of her woman hood. Biting her lower lip as his fingers sought the most sensitive organ of a woman, she inhaled a shaky breath. It was the only scar upon her battered body that hadn't been painted over by gold-flecked lines; it was the only spot of her body that remained as it was. It was her most intimate detail, not easily overlooked by a lovers caress. As brows donned the lines of pain, lips parted as if to speak; but no words would leave her breast. Full lips closed and teeth clenched as she threw the concept of speech from her mind; forcing her knees to support her, she rested her forehead against his; her own fingers slipping under the hem of her pants, catching the cord of her underwear as she pulled the left side of her cotton pants down, slowly revealing that which she guarded. Licking her lips, the words did not come easily; "… it goes deeper than you might think…"



Fingers holding more sensitivity then a human could ever hope for realized just what she was feared of, right there beside his thumb. He didn’t shift his eyes; he didn’t have to. Touch told him just what she revealed. But his touch was gentle, fleeting, warm thanks to his naturally heated hands. He just stroked her, soft feathering touches accentuated by little scrapes of fingernail along the dark moist flesh. Nose pressed against hers, he spoke against her mouth, “I know, Douglass…I can feel it.” A thread of concern laced his rough voice as his hand stilled. “Does it hurt…? Shall I stop?”



Douglass : She closed her eyes; the fear of rejection had taken precedence over his lingering touch. Turning her face, her temple came to rest against his; soft lips brushing slightly against the sensitive flesh of the ear; "No… please don't." Fingers of her left hand came to rest delicately upon his shoulder, slipping lightly down the back of his triceps, rounding the elbow before the sensation of flesh on flesh tapered away until her fingers found the hem of his jeans. Sensitive digits followed the hem to the clasp, a single finer-nail plucking at the metal button for a moment before fingers slipped to his inner thigh. Tenderly the tips of four slender digits tantalized his loins, a twitching sensation firmly sensed from beneath the thick denim. Her middle and ring finger pressed firmly against the center of his crotch; dragging them upward in a steady pet.



Dante swallowed hard. He better get his brain back in gear before he took her right here in the damned chair. Lucille would no doubt have something snarky to say about that. But all thoughts of sassy mainframes and hollering cops left his mind as inquisitive fingers slid between his thighs, teeth gnawed the inside of his cheek. Suddenly he didn’t have near enough room. Removing hands from her body, he snaked arms around her hips and rose from the chair, pulling her knees around his waist and striding to the bed across the room. Bending a knee to the mattress, he carefully lowered her to the newly made covers, fingers leaving her hips and sliding down her thighs, pulling the pants and undergarment with them. Finally he had her naked before him. But he didn’t return to her, merely remained on a knee between her ankles. Strong warm hands gripped her thighs, holding her still. “Let me look, Douglass,” he said quietly, words carrying enough heat to stroke a furnace to life. But touch was soft where his hands gripped. Moving unerringly, he maneuvered over her, head lowering to her stomach. Lips touched the gold scar along her side, tongue flicking against the marred skin gently as his mouth followed the lines down her body, hands sliding under her hips to gently lift her for his mouth. But his lips deterred for a moment to slide over her stomach, following the pattern of smooth muscle until his tongue dipped into her navel and lapped. But he digressed, back to business. Sliding a hand down her rump to the back of a thigh, he lifted her leg slightly, the better to fit his broad shoulders between her knees. Lips placed small nipping kisses over her lower stomach, skilled tongue dipping just into the warm folds between her legs, carefully and tentatively brushing against the small uncolored scar before continuing to tantalize the muscle beside with little flicks and nips.



Douglass : Strong leg muscles wrapped around him as he rose; the sensation was foreign, to be maneuvered against her own will; but the tentativeness of his touch hinted not to threat, but to a sweet caress. Arms draped about his shoulders as he walked, leaning forward gentle pressure from her lips applied to the soft, sweet flesh of his neck. As he laid her upon the crisp sheets, she went to reach for him, a slight motion forward stopped dead by his words. "Let me look," shoulders slumped back to the soft bed, her head tilted back as she once again bit her lower lip; nodding lightly. Yeah, look at the damaged goods before you sell into them. But his touch would not reflect the bitterness she felt towards herself; gentle, caring fingers caressed her bare thighs; reassuring. As he began to kiss the hide of her stomach, both of her hands lay flat palms to the flesh of her neck, sensitive digits laced down the front of her chest, passing over the hump of her breasts. Her left stopped just below the crescent of her bosom, but the other dared to venture further, fingers curling into the hair just behind his ear. Raged breaths of desire passed between her lips as his moved lower, eventually falling away from her reach. The first tantalizing lick sent waves of shivers throughout her body, a sharp breath inhaled and held for a long moment before being released. Her breathing following had quickened, slightly deeper and a tad rapid. Fingers of her left hand moved to the sheets; taking in a full handful and gripping for all she had; she tried to remain still under his skilled tongue; but as he teased; tantalized; and satisfied low moans and jittery squirms erupted from her being.



He eased back a bit to let her wiggle under him, licking his lips and easing a palm between her thighs, long fingers delicately stroking and caressing, parting the soft lips, index finger probing and easing just inside her body, testing the waters. But the long sensitive digit moved in and out gently, slowly, as if priming her body for later. The white head lowered again, tongue snaking from parted lips to replace the passage his finger previously invaded, rubbing his nose against her clitoris gently. Hands lifting her hips a bit, wedging her knee over a shoulder, his tongue speared her body, withdrawing only to thrust back inside again, over and over. Taking no thought to his own roiling blood, he wanted to make her writhe, to let her know she was worthy of pleasure.



Douglass : Teeth held in a vise as back arched, squirming, twisting, jolting; she wanted him to stop; she wanted him to drive deeper; she wanted less; she wanted more; a flurry of sensations suppressed behind tense muscles. Knuckles were white under extreme stress; pulling the sheets as she moved. She fought to hold back grunts and moans; never would she give in so easily; just melt beneath the hands of another like ice cubes under the summer sun. However, his warmth penetrated deep; causing low cries to emanate from her throat from time to time; despite her best efforts hips rolled slightly, forward and back with the rhythm of his tongue.



Dante held back a slow purred chuckle at her actions. Letting her slide back against the mattress, a bit of a reprieve, he rose on elbows and nosed, kissed, and licked his way up her body, pausing at her bosom to give rapturous attention to her breasts as a still-jeaned thigh slid between hers, the rough denim grinding roughly against sensitive skin. Lips closed around a dusky nipple, tongue lashing the small bit of flesh to attentive hardness before teeth nipped and lips suckled, repeating the gesture to the twin. Continuing upwards, his mouth nuzzled soft skin under her ear as his body pressed against her, hips wedging her thighs apart to cradle him. “Douglass…” he rasped, rocking against her slightly, straining flesh aching beneath rough denim.



Douglass : A small smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth as he whispered into her ear, a pink tongue slipped between her lips and traced up the contour of his ear, nipping lightly at the lobe before words would pass. "My turn," she chortled quietly, as thighs compressed against his hips. Lips grazed skin lightly as she turned her face, her body sliding slightly down his; still aroused nipples tracing lines down the front of his torso. Soft, full lips pressed to the delicate skin just beneath his Adams Apple; tongue guiding gentle suction as she led with her own body, causing him to roll little by little to his back. Gentle fingers slid down his ribs, passing across the top of course denim. A flat palm applied even pressure to his inner thigh, hand moving up and down slowly as it passed across his center; beneath the fabric his aching limb twitched at her touch; threatening, daring her to release it. Lips moved down the center crevice of well defined pecs, teeth grazing the mangled flesh of his body, followed closely by lapping tongue and soft lips to mundane the tingle of teeth. Hazel eyes flitted up to peer at him as lips pressed gently to the sensitive flesh just next to his own nipple. Pink tongue snaked out from between luscious lips, tip carefully tracing the circumference of his hardening teat. Teeth pinched the bud lightly before lips encompassed it, sucking tenderly at first, then more firmly; all the sensual digits attending to his yearning, tantalizing for the moment soon at hand.



Glazed eyes blinked a bit to her quiet chuckle, but he let her take initiative and explore as she would, falling willingly to his back. Not truly submissive, the demon within lashed and raged at such, teeth ground behind closed lips as soft lips and hands flittered and stroked his long frame, the sensation of her teeth on his scarred skin nothing less than delicious. Couldn’t be too rough, really. Pressing his head back into the pillow, one hand rose to tangle fingers in tousled locks, tips massaging her scalp slightly. Hips reflexively lifted against her fingers, male flesh swelled and hardened further under the tender torture. Mirroring her gesture of earlier, one hand fisted in the sheet, fingers opening and closing. Skin was sensitive, far further than a human, senses were heightened considerably. A raw moan left his lips as her mouth suckled, back bowing a bit. It would be the death of him, this innocent seduction.



Douglass : Providing such tentative care to the companion pec, tongue teased and teeth grazed; she could taste the salt of his sweat, tongue dampening skin and relenting to the sensual flavor, "mmm," she couldn't keep it in; her own body howled for the final embrace, but she sequestered it; he'd attended to her, now she would do the likewise. Teeth nipped beneath soft lips, leaving a trail of sensations down the midline of his abdomen. Sinewy muscles stretched and heaved under her light touch, warm breath added to the already radiating heat of his flesh as lips stopped atop the hem of his pants. Cheek grazed the line between his jeans and bared flesh as lips scarcely touched his skin. Fingers slid up and down his thighs, a constant reminder of her lingering presence so close to that which ached him. After a long moment of tease, she lifted herself upon elbows, slender fingers slipping just under the hem, starting at his hips and slowly moving towards the center. Sensitive fingers curled around the buttoned clasp, slowly prying it form its hold, the fabric parted further as she slowly slipped the zipper down. Both hands held the denim apart as tongue pressed lightly to the freshly uncovered flesh, teeth grazing lightly until a small piece of skin became pinched between.



There were times he damned his demonic blood. Like now. Every cell in his body was zeroed in on Douglass’s mouth, trailing so happily along his body. Hard muscles jumped and writhed beneath her gentle touch, Christ, his chest was heaving already. But his hand left her head to press both firmly against the mattress, strong fingers seriously straining the fabric as flesh was bared, finally released from the Levi prison. He’d thought he might have run mad here shortly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he really wasn’t prepared for the slow soft tongue that teased, nor teeth that razed and his hips bucked upwards, eyes flaring open, streaks of scarlet littering the white. Fingers cut into the covers as he heaved a breath and forced himself to relax and not just attack her in a wanton frenzy of lust. But he couldn’t have stopped the moan of her name to save his soul as his head fell back to the pillow, spine bowing slightly as he twitched beneath her.



Douglass : As he bucked she backed off slightly; back and shoulder muscles tightening in remembrance of the prior night; when he was beside himself things got hurt. As he relaxed back to the sheets, her cheek nuzzled the sensitive flesh so recently encaged under the denim; fingers traced over his ribs as they passed down the sides of his body, slipping under the loosened jeans they pulled them down completely. Permitting them to crumple into a heap upon the floor just next to the bed, fingers slid back up the inside of his legs. So soft and lacey her fingers ran along the flesh of his inner thighs, still refusing to attend to what he so desperately wanted. Lips dotted about the flesh surrounding his groin, nose nuzzling against his loins as a pink tongue traced the crease of his hip. He was visibly twitching due to her negligence, purpose now fulfilled; her right hand came to caress his hardened manhood. Angling it towards her face, the tip of the head pressed against her cheek, just above her mouth. Lips kissed lightly, barely grazing the side as her face turned ever so slightly. Her tongue gently coaxed the end of his throbbing manhood inside her mouth; the chlorine like taste of pre-cum filling her taste sense. At first, a gentle tongue simply massaged the underside of his member, slowly adding suction with each passing moment. Finger tips of her right hand began to gently apply pressure to the shaft of his member, stroking back and forth slowly.



It was damning, this weakness, but he could no more have stopped her than he could have stopped the groan that echoed from his lips as rough denim scraped along sensitized skin, falling to a heap on the floor. Cool air hit his flesh, but had no effect on the raging blood that romped through his veins. Dante dared lift his head to stare down at Douglass as she worked, breath hitching in his throat at the magnificent sight afforded his eyes. But he shivered and shook as she caressed him, paying scant attention to the attentive flesh that so craved her touch. A gasp of soft relief, followed by a strangled groan escaped burning lungs as her hands finally sought and fondled. He jerked in her hands, hips bucking a bit in reflex. Fingers ripped the sheets in restraint as he felt the soft warmth of her mouth close around the head of his throbbing erection. Dropping his head back to the pillow, top teeth sunk into his lower lip as lips and tongue tortured him, breath whistling softly through clenched incisors. He wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this…



Douglass : Her tongue lapped at his limb as if it were made of sugar; sweet and delicious on her tongue. Teeth grazed lightly against the sensitive sides of his erection, scarcely nipping at the tiny point of its end. With care, she eased his wood deeper into her mouth; too fast and the chance of a gag reflex was prominent, too slow and he'd lose interest. Silken fingertips kept him well stimulated until finally her lips encased around the base of manhood. Lips dragged along as she pulled away, it slipped from her mouth, dropping for a moment to touch her chin before her tongue once again coaxed it back inside. Pushing his erection deep into the back of her throat, the fingers that had been so attending to his lust lightly stroked the excessive skin of his testicular sacs, placing gentle pressure with fingers sliding around; so sensitive this part of a man, so easily injured; she took great care to keep from hurting him.



She could have impaled his stomach with an iron spike and he wouldn’t have minded in the slightest. Hissing as she sunk him deeper in her warm wet cavern, all he could do was lie there and writhe. Fabric ripped as fingers tore at it, shredding the rather expensive sheets beneath his hands. Sweat broke out on his forehead and chest, thanks to the racing of superheated blood all through his big shaking body. But as fingers drifted below to cup and stroke hot flesh, his throat closed and he gasped for air like a beached whale. It took him three tries to form coherent words. “…D…Douglass…s-stop…” In a surge of movement, arms grasped her shoulders and heaved as they lifted her, a bit abrupt but he had no intention of letting her reduce him to an even more incoherent babble of nerves. Putting her on her back, he loomed over her, sweat-damp white hair falling over his forehead as he stared down at her, eyes dark and hooded. A knee slid her thighs apart, pushing her leg higher to drape against his hip. A wicked smile creased his mouth as his head lowered to lick the length of her throat. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, babe, but did you intend to drive me mad…?” One large hand flattened over a breast, calloused fingers plumping and plucking heavy aching flesh before sliding down her body to pull the same leg over his hip, draping her calf along the back of his thigh. “That’s not the way it needs to go, sweetheart, not this time,” he purred beneath her ear, teeth sinking into the pulse beating in her throat.



Douglass : She nearly decked him one as he put her on her back; defenses tightly wired into her natural reflexes. "Shit, next time give me a warning will you?" Her shoulders slumped into the mattress, muscles relaxing as the possibility of hostility passed; but she smirked at his comment about driving him mad; wasn't that the point of teasing? The point of foreplay? To drive each other insane until you simple couldn't go without any longer? She didn't resist as he repositioned her legs; if anything she pushed her hips up against him. Her vessel pulsed with anticipation; his touch still lingered there, leaving her wanting more. She swallowed a few times, the sensation of his flesh still fresh in the back of her throat; fingers absently wandered up around his arm that kept him propped above her, fingers snaking into damp, platinum locks as he caressed her neck; God how she loved that feeling, the feeling of lips against her neck. It had to be the danger of it, the possibility that teeth could gnash and tear away the carotid artery, leaving you to die in splendid pleasure.



A throaty chuckle left his lips to vibrate against her throat. “What’s the fun of warning you, Douglass?” he asked mischievously. “Just takes all the fun right out of it.” Lips latched to her throat and sucked hard, leaving marks on tender skin as deft fingers once more delved between her thighs, thumb seeking and finding the small muscle that controlled her body’s pleasure and stroking as fingers slipped inside the slick warm passage, stroking and returning languidly. But his own body screamed for what awaited and a low sibilant growl hissed from his mouth. Parting her legs wider, he maneuvered further over her, bringing lithe hips flush against hers, replacing devilish fingers with the head of his throbbing erection. Pushing forward, he teased her as his tongue feathered lazy circles over her shoulders and collar bone. But his stomach coiled and muscles bunched; the beast was getting tired of waiting. With a growled moan, Dante’s hips pushed forward, seating himself to the hilt inside her, head flung back on the sharp penetration, shoulders rippling with the strain. He remained still for a moment, letting her adjust, then began to move, so achingly slow at first, nearly withdrawing completely, only to shove forward once more, pushing deeper inside her.



Douglass : A low throated cry emanated from her lips as he penetrated into her; such force, such hunger. It mirrored what her own body called for; what it had been calling for. How long had it been? She'd been here for at least six months now, chaste the entire time, but not in lack of want. It had been months before that since the last time she'd bedded Sam; oh fuck it'd just been too long. A sharp breath inhaled through teeth hissed in his ear; but was released in silence; a passing of warm air through platinum strands. The first few thrusts caused her body to buck; shivers quaking down the center of her spine. Fingers clutched at platinum strands while the other drug light nails up his hip, over the small of his back and up to his shoulder. As the shock of initiation wore down, her head tilted back, pressing into the soft feather bed beneath her; back arched, forcing her hips into his as he plunged deeply inside of her. Vaginal canals rippled around his sound erection, seeking, receiving and giving pleasure.



She caught the rhythm quickly, praise Christ and he moved within her a bit faster, groaning quietly as her willing body received him smoothly. Dante pressed his forehead to her shoulder, hips lifting and falling in the ages-old dance. His breathing quickened, rasping in his throat. But he kept the steady pace, every third thrust or so jerking harder into her, just to accentuate the spiraling pleasure. Hands drifted to her thighs, pulling both legs around his waist, the better to rock and plunge deeper into her willing body. Damp tousled hair fell over his forehead, shielding his eyes as his head lifted to stare down at her, countenance contorted with her passion. His body moved and rocked atop her, skin sliding against skin in one long deep caress. The fire in his blood banked, smoldered as he grunted softly, teeth sunk into his lower lip.



Douglass : She could feel it building; every muscle in her body tensing; preparing for that glorious release. Her breathing was becoming quicker, lighter as hips met hips. Low whining noises came with each exasperated breath, the decibel slowly rising. Her head tilted back, eyes closing, fighting off the orgasm; she wanted this to last; but at the pace he was going, she'd be spent in a matter of moments. Fingers clutched tightly to his shoulder blades, no nails involved; she figured he'd had enough pain the night before. Legs tightened around his waist; keeping him close, not letting him pull out quite as far as he had been, the illusion was then he'd drive deeper.



She clasped him so damned tightly it almost made him faint. But he could see the strain in her body building, the tensed muscles, the furrowed brow. He groaned, a sharp strangled sound from a nearly closed throat, long body heaving atop hers, filling her fully, stroking all the right places deep within her thrusting body. Lowering his head, he once more sank teeth into the wildly beating pulse in her throat, even as fists clenched on the mattress as he thrust harder, impaling her soft wetness with turgid flesh that throbbed with delicious urgency. So close…



Douglass : She couldn't even begin to fathom stifling the cry that erupted from her throat as her whole body went into convulsions. Her back bowed wickedly; thrusting her hips as deeply into him as possible, every last inch of her was trembling. She lay beneath him; panting for air, legs sprawled wide, with each additional pass of his manhood her body would ripple with small tremors; but she wouldn't; couldn't deny him the same. But she couldn't help him; her muscles protested even to breathing; she could just lay there like a limp fish.



Her yell resounded in his ears as she convulsed around him. The sweet strangulation of his length buried inside her made Dante’s eyes cross, his own back bowing with the urgent thrusting of hips. She eased, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t stop. The beast, thwarted of blood, demanded another satiation. Her body, though replete, continued to grip him and five heartbeats later he crashed, a strangled roar leaving his throat, hot flashes of red light escaping his hands, blue eyes faded to black-on-red as he erupted inside her. Straining, the spasm finally passed and all demonic gestures faded as he collapsed atop her, sweaty and spent.



Douglass : She'd heeded to him; and now he to her; as his body fell atop her, eyelids drifted shut; Holy Fucking Christ. They both lay there; panting like dogs under the summer sun; but God how her body thanked him. Somehow she managed to lift one arm, drooping around him so that fingers nestled into the hair just behind his ears. She could barely move, even her fingers; they just propped there, their intention known but unfulfilled.



Dante knew he’d have one bitch of a hangover come daylight. But he figured it worth it. Right now, summoning an army of angelic hosts seemed easier than summoning the will to move, so he forwent it. But he closed dark eyes to the fingers in his hair and an exhausted grin curved his lips as his head rested on her shoulder, breath wafting against the column of her sweaty neck. Words didn’t seem necessary for either, and Lucille damned knew better. One arm lifted to stroke fingers over her shoulder and down her upper arm, over and over, reveling in the mere warmth of touch.



Douglass : Slowly her breathing returned to a regular pace; planning out to a steady rhythm of inhales and exhales. His fingers blazed trails down her arm; and she could feel the previous path even as the next forged on. His ejaculation lingered inside her; some seeping out to trickle onto her leg; or was that her own body's climax? Shit, what did it matter, they were both there. That was something that would need to be taken care of sooner rather than later; less mess. Her own blond tresses were nearly soaked with sweat; and as the tiny beads abounding upon her flesh evaporated away, shivers littered her skin.



He would have been insanely content to just lie there for the rest of his life, however long that might be. Another nuance that surprised him. Always before, with nameless human women, he’d never lingered, never remained. But shit, this was his own damned bed; he could be a pig if he wanted. But his back twinged, forcing a grimace across his brow. “Hell,” he muttered sourly, maneuvering from atop her. Rolling to his back, he sighed, then somehow managed to stagger to his feet, lifting arms above his head, stretching contentedly. Muscles and joints cracked from neck to ankle, nearly making him topple to his nose. Miraculously, Dante managed to stay standing and plunked back down on the bed, turning a bit to look down at Douglass. A small smile played at his lips. “Comfy?”



Douglass : "Cold," she answered shortly. Knees came together and bent upright, toes curling to hid underneath her feet; by damn they would find warmth if they could. The fingers of her right hand ran through blond tresses, cascading them out upon the bed around her. "You?"



He leaned over on one arm, shaking his head. “Nope. Don’t get cold. Demon blood. Runs hotter than a furnace.” He pinched her side lightly. “Get under the covers if you’re freezing.”



Douglass : "Hmm, never would have thought of that on my own." Sarcasm dripped from every word; but she smirked at him none-the-less. By damn she felt good; but before she'd crawl into his covers, she needed to take care of business. Her back groaned as she hoisted herself into a sitting position; despite the tumble they just had, she still felt modest; unsure about scatting around without clothes on. Oh fuck it; not like anyone was just going to be waltzing on in. Swinging legs over the side of the bed she stood herself, immediately feeling the night's events wanting to drain with gravity's help. Mirroring his stretch she turned her back a bit; her right side fully visible to him. For the first time he'd actually see her scar in its entirety. Starting just beneath the cup of her bust it dripped down her right side, the drips following the curve of her body, mushrooming out as it reached her hip. Nearly two and a half feet in length, her entire side was a flashing flame of gold, small curls and billows artistically crafted into the tattooing. Every last one of the others radiated from that spot, twisting and curling away to encompass her body, devour her whole like the fires of hell. "Be back in a minute." Gooseflesh erupted all over her body; her nipples becoming erect with the pulling of skin; shit she could almost cut glass. Quickly scatting off to her own bathroom, she took care of the 'evening's business'; washed her face and gave her teeth a quick once over. No more than five minutes for the entirety of it all. Grabbing a throw from the chair in her own room, she wrapped it about herself for her return, an attempt to keep the gooseflesh at bay. Slipping onto the bed through the side opposite of him, she ditched the blanket to nestle under his coverlets; immediately noticing the tears in them, she shook her head slowly, a petite smile crossing her lips. "That bad huh?" she held the end up for him to see.



He watched with idle curiosity as she rose and mimicked his stretch, eyes following the trail of the golden scar. A brow rose. Jesus. But he nodded as she exited the room, Lucille quietly opening doors along the way. Getting to his feet, he meandered to his own bathroom, about twenty feet away and splashed cold water over his face, slapping him from grogginess. He knew he should shower, remove the sweat and booze residue, but he was just too damned lazy at present. Eh, fuck it. Taking care of everything else, Lucille flicked off the light as he exited, falling facefirst down on the mattress once more. But he did manage to kick down the covers and slip beneath the rent sheets. Head pillowed on his arms, he glanced over a shoulder as Douglass returned and slid in beside him. He grinned at her as she held up the sheet. “Instinct,” he said with a naughty grin. “That happens when you’ve got talons for fingernails, babe.”



Douglass : "Guess the same thing happened to my bras huh?" The question was playful, hinting on good nature though a single brow rose high. As she started to settle under the covers, she hesitated; unsure what exactly to do; should she slip right up next to him; leave some space between? Still propped up on an elbow she considered her choices.



“Professional hazard,” he shrugged with a smirk. “Comes in handy sometimes, though, I’ll admit.” Yawning, he shifted to his side and extended an arm along the mattress wordlessly.



Douglass : Instinctively her chilled flesh was drawn towards his body heat; well if he didn't like it what was the worst he'd do; kick her out? Daring to take her chances she slid closer, close enough that with the slightest movement, skin would touch skin.



Jaws near splitting on another yawn, Dante just slipped his arm under her shoulders and hauled her closer, closing both long arms around her middle and cradling her head to his shoulder, cheek leaning atop her head. One bare leg tangled with hers beneath the covers as he sighed softly. Lucille quietly flicked off the bedside lamp and Dante pulled up the covers over them both.



Douglass : She melted into him; thanking God silently that he didn't push her away; at least not yet. As his warmth enveloped her she nuzzled against his shoulder, letting eyelids droop shut. Yet again sleep would not come easily; for hours she lay there, awake and unable to catch the Sandman's sweet kiss. But she was happy, she felt safe folded in his arms; by damn could it be possible? For the last ten years she'd been content with her life; content but without happiness; but now, with him, with Dante, a man she'd set herself to hate, only to find out that she owed her life to him; while carefully taken in his arms she felt safe. Hours after he drifted off into the slumber land a sigh exuberated from her breast, and eyelids finally closed for sleep.


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