Post by carcinoGeneticist on Aug 24, 2008 0:59:04 GMT -5
Don't say I didn't warn you, kiddos. <3 Please read and comment and crit, this is a new realm for me to dive into - psycho sex, that is.
Characters: Rhiannon, Apocalypse
Words: 1397
~*~
The time Rhiannon spent on the run from the nightmare of her children was a terrifying period until she learned the best method to deal with it: To ignore it completely. She hid from reality in the recesses of her own mind and let her instincts take over for as long as she could, and found that it was easy to do. She lost herself in the petty distractions that surrounded her - the feel of ground under her feet, the breeze whipping through her hair, even the pain that still pounded in her abdomen. It all took her far away from the horrors of her home, and with those thoughts she felt invincible and untouchable. Nothing could make her return to that hostile environment.
And for a day, she believed herself fully.
As the weariness crept into her limbs, however, the sun low on the horizon and casting deep shadows across the ground, she felt truth like an iron-grip on her heart, heard a soft voice whispering in her head, its words clearly spoken and impossible to ignore:
"Go back to him. You love him. He's good for you. You can't stay away, you can deal with those monsters as long as you keep him close.[/i]"
Rhiannon did her best to push the irritating words out of her mind with more extreme methods - she started fights with random people in the streets, breaking bones and drawing blood, she drank heavily and threw herself feet-first into other people's business. Through it all, however, she still felt like something essential was missing from her life.
Every day, the voice in her head grew in volume and insistence, shaking its head whenever she stepped to a new extreme to hide from her life. Its shame made her stomach churn, and was wearing her down quickly. She wasn't crazy, not while she was medicated, she couldn't be - she told herself again and again that she knew the voice was her own thoughts manifesting in a way that would be harder for her to ignore. It was working, too, she realized by the third day, her paws dragging along the ground. She could still feel the burn of the vodka, but it didn't effect her nearly as strongly as it used to and it provided her with no relief from the voice. Sleep would give her at least that, she was sure.
"Don't count on it, love.[/i]" The words sounded hollow, and were the last thing she heard before her eyes rolled back and sleep took her.
Rhiannon dreamt. Colors flowed like water across her vision, and she wore a proud biped form, running across a blank landscape of patterns that made no sense. She closed her eyes as she leapt into the water, suspended there, floating in the colors that ebbed around her, shimmering like an oil spill. It was quiet here, just her and her thoughts, but something felt off, as though she was not the only one experiencing her dream. Normally, she wasn't one for lucid dreaming, but now that it was happening to her she felt rather unsurprised by it and was actually rather thankful for the control over her own thoughts. Her ears flicked back against her head and she glanced around, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched - and then she felt it, another body slipping into the water beside her. She closed her eyes, the softest of moans escaping her lips as she felt her body pressed against a muscled human form, teeth gently grazing at her exposed throat.
It would be one of those, dreams, then... That brought a smile to her face as she settled into the embrace, letting the water and arms keep her suspended, her wings extending fully. The mouth at her throat hissed softly and the figure relaxed its grip on her, and the water vanished in a second, leaving her sitting back on a cool tile floor. Her eyes widened with shock and she scrabbled for some purchase on the floor, seeking around. All that she could see was tile and bright lights until she turned and saw -
"What are you doing, Rhiannon?" the voice was soft and scolding and came from a tall chair in a corner of the room. Dimly, Rhiannon could make out the shape of a figure sitting in it, but she couldn't make out any details. Clearly, the voice belonged to this figure. The woman pulled herself into a sitting position, ears flicking back, eyes narrowed to mere slits. Something about the figure was familiar, but she couldn't place it, he was almost completely in shadow. All she could see of him was a pair of orange eyes, slitted like her own, glaring out at her from the darkness. "You keep running and running, but you just run further into your own grave. I can't bear to see you do this to yourself, love..."
The woman froze completely at those words, eyes widening. In a flash, the man was standing before her, gently stroking her muzzle. In the light, he was tall and pale, orange eyes staring at her from a slender and handsome face, burnished gold hair hanging around his face. He wore a small smirk and she could see the glint of fangs in his mouth, which unnerved her slightly and she looked away. She found herself focusing instead on his chest, which was heavily muscled in contrast to his slender legs. He wore tight leather pants, and she felt herself blush despite herself, turning to look at the floor again. "Who are you?" her voice sounded quiet and unstable even to her own ears, and she turned back to look at him.
"You haven't named me yet," he said softly as he took her hands in his own, lacing his fingers between her own, sounding almost sad as he lifted her to her feet. "I'm beginning to wonder if you ever will. You've been wishing for me your whole life... And now that I'm here, you're dismissing me as delusions and paranoia... trying to quiet me with drugs..." Rhiannon shivered despite herself, biting her lip. He sounded... depressed, utterly and completely, and though she still had no idea what he was, it couldn't be fair to treat him as she had been when he was clearly so much his own person.
Gently and hesitatingly, she reached out to him, touching the man's cheek softly. "I-I'm sorry," she responded, biting her lip. His expression lightened slightly as she did, and his hands slipped along her body, pulling her close and staring down at her fondly. "I just don't know who you are... I know I should, I'm sorry, I just don't.[/b]"
The man grinned a little wider, leaning in and kissing her cheek, the teeth familiar on her cheek - so he was the same as the mysterious person from earlier, she thought dimly, enjoying the feel of his hands moving through her fur. His whisper was almost lost in the sound of her quiet moan as one of his hands crept between her legs, teasing her softly. "I'm your friend," he murmured on her skin as if that was all she needed to know. He paused, nibbling delicately at her ear and biting down softly in reply to the quiet moan that bubbled from her throat, slowly sliding a finger inside of her. "And whenever you need me, call me from here." he touched her chest, finger brushing very gently over the blood red heart that shone there.
It was easy to let herself go as he lowered her to the floor, biting into her neck as he thrusted into her, his own moans soft and lost in the sounds of the woman's own pleasure. She coiled around him, her world exploding as she climaxed, and the dream faded around her - finding her laying in the clearing she'd fallen asleep in, still breathing heavily from her dream. Yellow eyes still hazed over with pleasure stared up at the starry sky, a small smile of pleasure curled across her lips.
"I'll name you then, my Pale one," she whispered quietly, but she could feel his presence in the back of her mind, twisting with pleasure at the words. She closed her eyes again, breathing deeply, her nostrils filling with the scent of the wet grass that she lay in.
"My Apocalypse.[/b]"
~*~
Thouroughly Inappropriate Behavior for a Summoner and her Weapon
edited for some typos, thanks Seraluff <3 if you see something that's still off just poke me, hehee.
Characters: Rhiannon, Apocalypse
Words: 1397
~*~
The time Rhiannon spent on the run from the nightmare of her children was a terrifying period until she learned the best method to deal with it: To ignore it completely. She hid from reality in the recesses of her own mind and let her instincts take over for as long as she could, and found that it was easy to do. She lost herself in the petty distractions that surrounded her - the feel of ground under her feet, the breeze whipping through her hair, even the pain that still pounded in her abdomen. It all took her far away from the horrors of her home, and with those thoughts she felt invincible and untouchable. Nothing could make her return to that hostile environment.
And for a day, she believed herself fully.
As the weariness crept into her limbs, however, the sun low on the horizon and casting deep shadows across the ground, she felt truth like an iron-grip on her heart, heard a soft voice whispering in her head, its words clearly spoken and impossible to ignore:
"Go back to him. You love him. He's good for you. You can't stay away, you can deal with those monsters as long as you keep him close.[/i]"
Rhiannon did her best to push the irritating words out of her mind with more extreme methods - she started fights with random people in the streets, breaking bones and drawing blood, she drank heavily and threw herself feet-first into other people's business. Through it all, however, she still felt like something essential was missing from her life.
Every day, the voice in her head grew in volume and insistence, shaking its head whenever she stepped to a new extreme to hide from her life. Its shame made her stomach churn, and was wearing her down quickly. She wasn't crazy, not while she was medicated, she couldn't be - she told herself again and again that she knew the voice was her own thoughts manifesting in a way that would be harder for her to ignore. It was working, too, she realized by the third day, her paws dragging along the ground. She could still feel the burn of the vodka, but it didn't effect her nearly as strongly as it used to and it provided her with no relief from the voice. Sleep would give her at least that, she was sure.
"Don't count on it, love.[/i]" The words sounded hollow, and were the last thing she heard before her eyes rolled back and sleep took her.
Rhiannon dreamt. Colors flowed like water across her vision, and she wore a proud biped form, running across a blank landscape of patterns that made no sense. She closed her eyes as she leapt into the water, suspended there, floating in the colors that ebbed around her, shimmering like an oil spill. It was quiet here, just her and her thoughts, but something felt off, as though she was not the only one experiencing her dream. Normally, she wasn't one for lucid dreaming, but now that it was happening to her she felt rather unsurprised by it and was actually rather thankful for the control over her own thoughts. Her ears flicked back against her head and she glanced around, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched - and then she felt it, another body slipping into the water beside her. She closed her eyes, the softest of moans escaping her lips as she felt her body pressed against a muscled human form, teeth gently grazing at her exposed throat.
It would be one of those, dreams, then... That brought a smile to her face as she settled into the embrace, letting the water and arms keep her suspended, her wings extending fully. The mouth at her throat hissed softly and the figure relaxed its grip on her, and the water vanished in a second, leaving her sitting back on a cool tile floor. Her eyes widened with shock and she scrabbled for some purchase on the floor, seeking around. All that she could see was tile and bright lights until she turned and saw -
"What are you doing, Rhiannon?" the voice was soft and scolding and came from a tall chair in a corner of the room. Dimly, Rhiannon could make out the shape of a figure sitting in it, but she couldn't make out any details. Clearly, the voice belonged to this figure. The woman pulled herself into a sitting position, ears flicking back, eyes narrowed to mere slits. Something about the figure was familiar, but she couldn't place it, he was almost completely in shadow. All she could see of him was a pair of orange eyes, slitted like her own, glaring out at her from the darkness. "You keep running and running, but you just run further into your own grave. I can't bear to see you do this to yourself, love..."
The woman froze completely at those words, eyes widening. In a flash, the man was standing before her, gently stroking her muzzle. In the light, he was tall and pale, orange eyes staring at her from a slender and handsome face, burnished gold hair hanging around his face. He wore a small smirk and she could see the glint of fangs in his mouth, which unnerved her slightly and she looked away. She found herself focusing instead on his chest, which was heavily muscled in contrast to his slender legs. He wore tight leather pants, and she felt herself blush despite herself, turning to look at the floor again. "Who are you?" her voice sounded quiet and unstable even to her own ears, and she turned back to look at him.
"You haven't named me yet," he said softly as he took her hands in his own, lacing his fingers between her own, sounding almost sad as he lifted her to her feet. "I'm beginning to wonder if you ever will. You've been wishing for me your whole life... And now that I'm here, you're dismissing me as delusions and paranoia... trying to quiet me with drugs..." Rhiannon shivered despite herself, biting her lip. He sounded... depressed, utterly and completely, and though she still had no idea what he was, it couldn't be fair to treat him as she had been when he was clearly so much his own person.
Gently and hesitatingly, she reached out to him, touching the man's cheek softly. "I-I'm sorry," she responded, biting her lip. His expression lightened slightly as she did, and his hands slipped along her body, pulling her close and staring down at her fondly. "I just don't know who you are... I know I should, I'm sorry, I just don't.[/b]"
The man grinned a little wider, leaning in and kissing her cheek, the teeth familiar on her cheek - so he was the same as the mysterious person from earlier, she thought dimly, enjoying the feel of his hands moving through her fur. His whisper was almost lost in the sound of her quiet moan as one of his hands crept between her legs, teasing her softly. "I'm your friend," he murmured on her skin as if that was all she needed to know. He paused, nibbling delicately at her ear and biting down softly in reply to the quiet moan that bubbled from her throat, slowly sliding a finger inside of her. "And whenever you need me, call me from here." he touched her chest, finger brushing very gently over the blood red heart that shone there.
It was easy to let herself go as he lowered her to the floor, biting into her neck as he thrusted into her, his own moans soft and lost in the sounds of the woman's own pleasure. She coiled around him, her world exploding as she climaxed, and the dream faded around her - finding her laying in the clearing she'd fallen asleep in, still breathing heavily from her dream. Yellow eyes still hazed over with pleasure stared up at the starry sky, a small smile of pleasure curled across her lips.
"I'll name you then, my Pale one," she whispered quietly, but she could feel his presence in the back of her mind, twisting with pleasure at the words. She closed her eyes again, breathing deeply, her nostrils filling with the scent of the wet grass that she lay in.
"My Apocalypse.[/b]"
~*~
Thouroughly Inappropriate Behavior for a Summoner and her Weapon
edited for some typos, thanks Seraluff <3 if you see something that's still off just poke me, hehee.
