It all happened so quickly he barely had time to react aside from tensing muscles and shifting hands. His lips parted but his teeth instantly clenched with a light groan that fluidly formed into a pained moan from the grip in his hair. On instinct, his lips silently moved to summon more strength in himself, but he was swiftly reminded of the dead zone when nothing changed. No, he was left under this man. And while he was quite strong on his own, there was no true risk of danger and rather than fight it, he decided to give in. After all, it was he that had first tempted the man above him.

His fingers were around him, and he breathed in softly from the grip; another sound of pleasure pulling from his lips as his head tipped back. Just as he had expected, his touch relayed his virginity with this form, but it was the first touch he’d been given thus far and he relished in it. Without thought his hips began to slowly roll against his grip. The hand that was left free was now moving up to grip around Kuval’s neck; feeling both his pulse and breathing and finding his own pleasure building from each sensation.

A quick wince pulled between his teeth from the anticipation of his fingernail on such a delicate area, but rather than move his hips back, he slid his feet along the floor boards; bending his knees and cradling Kuval between his legs. His own fingers gripped tighter around his neck, but not dangerously so, and pulled him down closer towards his lips. They stopped short of his, and like before he pressed his thumb along the center of his throat. His own chest rose and fell deeply as he tilted his own head just enough to run the tip of his tongue along Kuval’s lips. Parting his own, he bit the other’s bottom lip and pulled him closer that way before shifting them to press and part. That taste of blood lingered and his eyes fluttered closed from the reminder.

His fingers kept their grip on his neck, but his other hand moved to Kuval’s side; fingers curling to scratch down the smooth curve of him until he was able to feel his length once more. It was for only a second before moving his fingers around him to the small of his back where they curled to pull him down closer. His hips rose up, slowly grinding himself up against Kuval’s hand as well as his length and for a moment he felt them move with one another; the hand at the small of his back urging him to move in time with his own hips.

Another moan rang out against him before moving his tongue past his lips, but not before catching against one of the sharper points of his teeth. The pain was light, and rather than be deterred, he tried to eagerly lift his head into the kiss even more. Even as he felt a thin trickle of his own blood spill from the corner of his mouth.

Kuval swallowed against the hand around his throat, his eyes halving as he moved with the urge down. It was clear to him that Dorian knew what he was doing, how to taunt and tease him into action. The pull of him by his lip was no less than this and he eagerly repressed his lips when they met. He felt the man’s tongue sliding against his own, tasted the flow of blood and it only sparked his primal nature more.

His fingers turned from him as their hips touched, turning his hand instead to grip his hip and urge his to continue to meet. The heat of each other, pressing and touching, was a tease of what was to come and Kuval knew he couldn’t wait any more.

Moving his hand from his hip, he slid it down to touch his entrance as if to ensure he knew the location before it moved up to his own length. Without pause he pressed the head of himself to the warm split skin of the witch, touching along him until he found his mark. His other hand moved quickly from Dorian’s hair to his chest, pressing him hard as he thrust forward into him.

A wince left his own lips at almost painful the tightness and pull around him, but it was quickly lost to a moan as he pressed deeper still until nothing of him remained exposed to the air. The intensity of the heat hit him next, the contraction of the man now impaled by him, claimed by him. He felt the witch’s nails from the shock and likely pain of his entrance, but he didn’t move.

No, he stayed like this above the man, panting slightly as his eyes opened again to look at the one who gave him such pleasure. He reveled here a moment, unmoving, just enjoying the pulse and breathing beneath his crushing hand. Enjoying the frustrated face, the dig of the nails. Enjoying the lingering taste of blood between his lips as he slowly smirked, matching the one given to him before this all began.

Kuval’s fingers moved from him and his eyes closed tighter in frustration; his hips moving up against the other’s in an attempt to continue to feel the shift against himself. This was encouraged by the other man’s grip, and his lips broke away from his with a shaky exhale though they stayed close enough to brush. He wanted to hurt him, to hear him cry out in pain, while also feeling the same sharpness against himself. Fingers touched lower and his eyes just barely opened, realizing now what was to happen mere seconds before it began.

His first instinct was to grip him, push him, shift his knees to get at least one of his kidneys, but that powerful slam of his hand against his chest kept him there and all thoughts of escape were gone. His back arched against the floorboards and the hand at his lower back scratched around to grip his opposite hip; encouraging that press he felt against himself. No matter how many times this happened there was still that first bite of pain, but the anticipation of pleasure eclipsed it as he parted his legs just enough for him.

And then he felt him, cautious at first as they all were, but also like all of them that caution was soon forgotten in lust. The other’s hips pushed hard towards him, and he felt the arch in his back deepen as his head tilted back with a hard bite of his lip that instantly brought forth blood. Fingers dug into Kuval’s hip where he kept him pulled close to himself, while his other arm locked around his back to grip his opposite shoulder. His breathing caught in his chest, cutting short a much stronger moan. Even so, Kuval’s hand did not shift from his chest, keeping him well pinned and that force only built him closer.

His eyes opened, weak from pleasure for a split second before clouding with primal lust. This man above him now wore the smirk he had donned earlier in the night, and he found it returning. Laced in with his gaze was an air of pride: pride that he’d given in to his primal self, fed the lust of his natural design. And he tightened around him slowly before scratching along his shoulder to the back of his head; red trails rising against his skin. Never breaking the lock he had with his eyes, he began to slowly roll his hips with his, all the while keeping that tightness as he did so. His heart trilled faster, his chest attempting to rise deeply despite the press Kuval held over him, and he just barely tipped his chin in his direction; his lips parting in offering to his.

With their eyes locked, everything seemed almost at peace. Strangely at peace in the chaos of this action, uncharted waters as they may be. Kuval couldn’t have imagined this any other way, nor would he have wanted it to have been a soft action. This form seemed to demand attention and Dorian, with that expression of lust and pride, was just as demanding.

The nails in his back brought blood to the surface, tracing down the curve of his back slowly like rolling water. A groan escaped his lips, but his expression was nothing but pleasure as their hips started to move together.

He knew that the witch wanted to feel his lips again. He saw the tilt, saw the inviting red stains, but Kuval didn’t want that right now. He wanted more sensation, more touch. Dorian had mapped his body and how he wanted nothing more than to do the same.

His eyes left the mans, trailing down him lustfully. Both of his hands moved now to grip his hips as he straightened up for a better view, pulling his hips into his own and watching the way the vulnerable body shifted beneath him. Despite moving his hand from his chest, he didn’t want the witch to sit up and he’d make that known if he tried.

Kuval’s hands shifted again, unable to keep them still, gripping his thighs instead for a moment as he started to work harder against him. Finally one of those hands slid back down his thigh to find his length, pressing it up nearly flush with its owners skin and curling his fingers over it like a possessive cage. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he knew none of this was truly his. None of it would matter tomorrow.

But tonight, this body was his. Was theirs. He’d given himself to Dorian and now he took what he wanted in return. And it shone there in his eyes, a demand as he finally lifted them back to meet the man’s. It was there, unspoken: You’re mine…

Kuval’s hand left his chest and his breathing grew shakier for a brief moment when he felt the grip at his hips. His fingers were growing even more eager; their grip tighter with need. He knew the feeling well and let his head turn to the side since it was made apparent that their lips would not be touching any time soon. The force of his hips continued, and his toes curled against the wood of the floorboards as he moved his own to keep pace. Like this he could feel that depth within himself, and his eyes softly closed from that incomparable sensation.

Just when the painful stiffness grew to a near unbearable degree, he felt an aching relief: Kuval’s fingers travelled up his thighs, one moving a pressing trace along him and though he wasn’t working him, any touch was good right now. A groan laced in pleasure escaped through barely parted lips, and he opened his eyes to meet his again. The look he saw now was much different than before; the possession unmistakable, undeniable. It caused a twinned glint in his own, and his arms shifted so that he could raise up onto his elbows.

The depth shifted in him, and he fought back any signs of pleasure as one hand rose up to grip into Kuval’s hair. White locks twisted and tangled around his fingers, and he made sure to keep a hold close to the roots as he pulled him down quickly towards his face. His nose barely brushed against his just before their foreheads pressed, and he reveled in feeling his breathing so close to his lips. The muscles in his arms tensed, his abdomen burning from having to use so much of it to keep a constant roll of his hips at this angle. Despite the pleasure, he managed to keep his voice steady, though it was barely a whisper against his lips, “Now…” His fingers slowly gripped tighter into his hair, curled against the floor, “Make me bleed…”

The sounds of it all grew almost deafening, no matter their softness. Kuval’s own heavy breathing and quiet sounds. Their bodies connecting. Dorian’s nails on the floor, his groans. It was music, as beautiful to Kuval as the man’s violin had been back on the beach an eternity ago.

When that was added to those eyes… Kuval couldn’t look away. His own possessive expression was met by one that matched, dragging that building sensation down to the pit of his stomach again. He couldn’t hold out much longer, that was obvious, but damn it… Damn it, he wasn’t done yet…! He wasn’t ready to be done yet!

Kuval’s own breathing caught in his chest as he felt the change against him as Dorian sat up on his elbows, leading him to wonder what this would feel like in other positions. He wanted to know, needed to know, but he wouldn’t make it that far today. Maybe later? Maybe again…?

With Dorian’s grip in his hair, that jerk down to press them close again, Kuval felt a wave of pleasure hit him. The command, as that’s clearly what it was, would be graciously heeded. Really, he wanted nothing more right now than to sink his teeth into the witch’s skin and hear that groan again.

Briefly he tipped his head, pressing his lips to his before he reached a hand up and ripped Dorian’s own head back, exposing his neck. Kuval looked down the line of it. There was lingering blood from the earlier attack. The Adam’s apple shifted with each swallow of sound. The vampire wounds remained angry indents in the skin.

He wanted to bite there, over his Adam’s apple, but he didn’t trust himself not to accidentally cause much too severe damage. Instead he turned his eyes to the next best spot. Kuval lowered his head, parting his lips against the skin of Dorian’s shoulder in much the same place as the scar on his own. He felt the connect of the collar bone and the meat of the muscle above…

It was there that he bit, lower jaw hooking right above the collar bone and upper jaw nearly in the neck. His four sharpest teeth sunk in first, nearly twice the depth of the more human set that followed quickly behind like an after thought. Blood pooled into his mouth instantly and Kuval knew that if he bit hard enough, he could take inches off this man’s shoulder… but he didn’t. He resisted and instead reveled in the sounds and reactions beneath him, moaning into the wounds he created.

As he locked his teeth in, he let his fingers shift and wrap around the Dorian’s length again to begin working him. This time, having to visual and no mental distractions, his hand moved as if it was his own. He worked it naturally, in pace with the own slam of his hips. Without thought he was pushing harder, faster, as if trying to force Dorian through the floorboards that surely creaked tellingly to anyone beneath.

For a brief moment, he felt his lips again and eagerly tipped his head into the kiss. He could still taste his own blood lingering on them like an afterthought, but a shocked sound quickly pulled from him as his head was ripped back. His eyes opened on the ceiling, feeling a strong pulse at his own length from that roughness. His lips remained parted, his bottom one just barely trembling from the mounting pleasure. It wasn’t enough and his hips moved more against his, his stomach muscles tensing and pulling back from each press pushed deeper within himself.

A feather light touch of Kuval’s lips graced his shoulder and he found a strange longing ache from the contrast. Gripping tighter into his hair, he tried to urge him closer, to feel more than just his lips at such a vulnerable spot. And then he felt the sink in of teeth, so sharp and intense that it combatted the feeding bites he’d already received that night. Here though, in the safety and control of his room at the inn, amidst these actions, he was unable to hold back the strong begging moan that escaped. It pitched into a groan half between pleasure and pain.

In rare form, he wanted nothing more than to be taken to the brink of breaking, that course being ushered through Kuval’s hands, his teeth, the strong thrusts of his hips. Even visualizing it was enough to push him closer to the edge, and he shakily groaned through gritted teeth when he felt his fingers wrap. Despite himself, he nodded as much as he could against the grip of Kuval’s fingers; his hips rolling not only to meet his, but the guide of his fingers.

These fingers he’d witnessed wield a weapon with deadly accuracy, fingers whose strength he was only just now learning, these fingers weathered by time, practice, ocean salt…he had the potential to be lost eternally at the thought of them. Knew in this moment that when the night was over he’d still yearn for the grip and trace of them just as much as he would long to feel them tremble in anticipation. Or fear.

He lifted just one of his legs up, locking it tightly around his hips to feel that shift in the muscles of his lower back; the curve and bend as his hips thrusted down into him. He turned his head, his face touching into the messy locks of his hair where he could still smell the lingering touch of the sea.

Rough wood scratched against his elbow as he shifted his arm enough that his nails could bite into the flesh of Kuval’s side, gripping there enough to trail blood as he slowly scratched towards the crease of his back. With that slow cut into flesh he was brought closer to the edge and weakly shook his head: both wanting to feel that release and not wanting everything else to end because of it like it undoubtedly would. As usual, he chose pleasure over delay and moaned softly into his hair, “H-Harder…”

By now, the smell of blood was thick around them. Kuval had lost track of the amount of bleeding wounds on his own skin, much less the ones he’d caused. The smell of it rose in the air, a completely new sensation to him. It wasn’t dulled by the water, wasn’t just faded taste. No, this was an aroma of wanting battle. Sweat and blood, intermingling.

He felt the wrap of Dorian’s leg first and arched his back as if to encourage it. It felt like a lock, a command of compliance, and part of him loved it. In this moment, in this action, neither one of them were ‘human’. They were animals, lost to primal need, entirely focused on physical desire, and Kuval hadn’t felt so at home on land as he did right now. This, this felt like home. There was no need for clothes, or the foreign language he’d learned, or propriety. This was what he’d missed about home and it was given back to him here, now, by the witch.

A groan left him as nails bit into his back, but he found himself tilting into the much softer sensation against his hair. Lifting his head, Kuval panted against the wounds he’d created. It occurred to him that Dorian enjoyed the dominance, the pain. It was a darkness that they both felt in the moment, and he was more than willing to comply.

Kuval moved his hand from Dorian’s hair and instead quickly gripped around his neck, pressing him more into the floorboard. He didn’t want him to move, needed him to stay here. The pressure was building and the need of it only made him more desperate for Dorian to remain.

With fingers around his neck, a portion of his weight was left there and the rest spread to his burning abdomen, unwilling to let go of his length. No, this he worked more as he grew closer still. He was almost growing light from the anticipation and, to ground himself as much as he could, he turned his head further down the man’s shoulder and sunk his teeth in hard again.

He could feel the heart under his hand, feel the struggle for breath, feel the sounds trying to escape. As the blood pooled around his lips again, Kuval felt himself at the brink. With a final slam, forcing himself as deeply as his body would allow, he released into the witch with a deep pleasure moan.

His shoulders shook down from his release and, finally, his fingers eased again on the man’s throat to allow him breath as he struggled to find his own. The syreni lifted his head slightly, halved eyes watching the blood roll along the nearly mangled shoulder, but he didn’t move further than that… He wasn’t entirely sure that he could.

Those fingers wrapped tightly around his neck, all but slamming him back into the ground. He swallowed around the grip and found that he could hardly get in air, if any at all. Panic formed but rather than dwell in that fear, it fed into exhilaration, anticipation. As pleasurable as he was finding it to be, it still didn’t stop his body from reacting; lips parting shakily to attempt a gasp, body shifting in a weak writhe while his hands tried still to bring him closer rather than push him or his hand away.

His eyes quickly opened to find Kuval’s, his own both begging as well as urging him to be rougher. The animalistic need was consuming; feeding off of the other’s even. His heel pressed into his side harshly in an attempt to guide his hips how he wanted them to move with his own. With the hard bite at his shoulder he knew it would be over soon, unable to hold back the pained cry out that reverberated around the room. Only then did his eyes flutter closed, his head growing light from the last bit of air in his lungs leaving him.

Strong hips moved against his with a thrust so final that he knew there would be bruising left on the curve of his own lower back; unforgiving floorboards were already rubbing his skin closer to rawness as it was. That final push was enough, accompanied by the warmth filling him, and his own hips rolled up against his hand as that peak of pleasure finally overcame him with a pained moan. Heavy gasps of air filled his lungs when Kuval released the tight grip on his neck, and he felt as if he could experience that release all over again. Instead, he winced from the physical reminder that he was unable to.

Both hands moved to grip into Kuval’s hair, though there was less strength in his fingers due to his state. However, what little he did have left in them kept a sharp tangle into his locks. His hips began to slow against his, though they kept a deep roll to enjoy the feeling inside of him for as long as he could. His leg slowly slid from around his waist and he blindly pulled his head down towards his as if driven by pure magnetism. He tasted his own blood against his lips as they pressed and a softer sound melded between their lips as his tongue tried to explore further.

Kuval felt the length between his fingers pulse, felt the release on his fingers and past to Dorian’s own skin. He tilted his head down to look at it, finding everything so strange and different. So incredibly curious. A million questions buzzed in the back of his mind, behind the still present experience, just waiting for the calm so they could come rushing out.

But right now his attention was entirely focused on the sounds, playing them again and again in his head, and the fingers weaving into his hair. Kuval turned dark eyes back up to Dorian’s as he was pulled, moving his hands quickly to press on either side of the panting body beneath him as their lips pressed again.

Another moan, softer this time, intermingling with the others as they kissed. His own wounded lip, the blood of Dorian’s shoulders, stirred by their own pressing tongues. Hips slowing, he remained here in the kiss as his body tried to wind down. He pressed closer still to the man, still not wanting him to move away just yet. Though his touches were no longer harsh or painful, the possessiveness had yet to dwindle away.

If it weren’t for the pain, he’d have thought it all to be a dream. It wouldn’t have been his first carnal one since inhabiting his body in this form, but he hadn’t ever pictured it exactly like this… It was perfect, somehow. Hard to put a name to. He wanted it to happen again, and again, and again. He wanted to memorize this body, every inch, every sound and moan and desire.

Unsure of when the next moment would be, if it would come, he tried to keep his full attention on this one….