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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Jun 2, 2014 16:11:06 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers smiled. It was a subtle expression, and therefore might have been shocking to Kereth for that reason alone, considering how the man who currently hovered so close was not often found employing emotional reservation. Her question sounded mocking, but was more honest than condescending, and as she spoke it the Arc’s eyebrows dropped and that subtle smile wisped across his lips as if it were just a curl of incandescent smoke, only seen for a split second and just as formless and incomprehensible. What that smile meant was not to be known, though the former Guardian would certainly speculate on its meaning: however, while the fleeting expression may have been confusing, Viers words were as clear as could be.
“Neither: I don’t have the desire to play games with you. And while I do desire to have you, I also understand that physical diversion might be something better left for another time.”
Slowly, the Arc pulled himself back, drawing his spine towards upright with the languid motions of a bear rising to its hind legs. The smile he had drawn before was long since gone, replaced by a much more characteristic smirking expression, a change that translated the sudden relaxation of Viers’ tension in the same way that the slight turn and slump of his posture did.
“So then: let's speak on what steps need to be taken in order to find out what you need to know about your dead Guardian. Then we can discuss my little problem.”
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Post by Keretheriel on Jun 2, 2014 21:23:06 GMT -5
Keretheriel offered her own echo of a smile at the first word of his reply.
Slowly, he retreated and slowly her form rose with him— her movement mirroring his with the same devastating fluidity that had put her on the bed in the first place.
Those ever-burning eyes dropped to his mouth for the last time, and — unless for some unforeseen reason he decided to stop her— silk softly rustled as she stepped forward, closing the distance between them entirely.
Though her pursuit of him as he'd abandoned her personal space was agonizingly slow, her sudden invasion of his personal space was not.
Her mouth pressed to his only slightly before both palms settled against his hollow of his cheeks, her fingertips resting lightly on his temples. The edge of her teeth would graze where his lips met; the tip of her tongue pushed against his lower lip until she could grasp the full swell of it between pearled bone.
She tasted the same as the timbre of her voice— like darkened honey, thick and rich.
The Siren could drown a man with that kiss. Time could slow and he'd forget he needed breath to live. . .
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Jun 3, 2014 15:36:21 GMT -5
If Rosencrance Viers was surprised at all by the former Guardian’s sudden rise, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, a slight glimmer of the smile that had crossed his features earlier flashed across his lips again right before they were captured within Keretheriel’s kiss, to which the Arc did not hesitate to return in kind.
It would be a mystery whether the man had anticipated Kereth’s reaction or was simply self-assured enough to write it off as inevitable, but once Kereth touched him, she could be sure there was no chance of rejection. Viers’ arms encircled her body, pulling the former Guardian’s body against his tightly, his hands resting on the small of her back as he bit right back against her kiss, his pointed eyeteeth digging into her lush bottom lip with a ferocity just mitigated enough not to cause real damage, though the sensation would be sharp.
Though the thought might have been strange for the Siren to consider, it was not the intoxicating taste or the slow of time that drew in the Arc. While he recognized Keretheriel’s newfound illusory talents, and in many ways admired the precision of their execution, it was not the honeyed taste or the beautiful figure under his fingers that had drawn his interest and attraction. The image within Viers mind was of the younger woman he had met a lifetime before, the held construction of that personality to which he had added these more recent changes. Truthfully, the man found the level of illusion more distracting than enticing, but such distraction was quickly swept away, the errant thought cast to his mind’s recesses as he focused on the sensations he was both giving and receiving.
Someday, perhaps, he would ask to see that which lay beneath the surface, the face beneath the carefully-created veneer. For now, the Arc kept such thoughts to himself, and instead let his body communicate his approval of the sudden turn, his hard fingers grasping into the flesh of Kereth’s waist before sliding to gain purchase on her behind, his mouth responding as a well-trained partner to the ebb and flow of the kiss’ dancelike exchange. Viers let Kereth lead, her body’s motions setting the pace to which his own responded in practiced kind. He hadn’t really wanted to talk about their goals anyway.
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Post by Keretheriel on Jul 24, 2014 14:30:18 GMT -5
The man who called himself Viers was certainly an expert at getting what he wanted, and it was entirely possible the woman who called herself Keretheriel experienced some measure of conflict both at being his object of desire and also seeming to allow herself to surrender to him. There was undeniable merit in maintaining a working relationship with a man like Viers─ especially in a City like Vascxious Sigma. Still, she didn't know the entirety of the board yet. Alpha's potential reaction to discovering her within the Northern City's borders couldn't be calculated based on centuries-old information. Just like her previous encounters with Viers, she and Virianus also had history. And look how well she and Viers were getting along. . . Perhaps Virianus could look past her fickle nature and unpredictability the same as she'd looked past─ for now─ the brutish intensity of Viers.
It was still the same story, wasn't it? She might need something from Viers in the future. The circumstances were different─ and in ways that mattered to her─ but her body was still pliant to his touch. He met no resistance when he pulled her tighter to him, digging into the thick of her lower lip with his teeth.
What did she want?
There was the thirst to rewrite their dynamic, she could admit to herself. There was the desire to lay him bare, make him vulnerable if only metaphorically─ to weaken him with darkened kisses and smother him in the sensation of rich silk. She would crush him beneath her as he'd done to her, only allowing him to rise when she'd gotten her fill of him. She'd leave him empty and laid to waste, her own vitality renewed. . .
This was her Arena now. Lust, sexuality, desire: those were the weapons in her considerable arsenal. Viers might believe he was getting what he wanted, but there would be cost this time. This board was different.
The pads of her fingers dug against his skin firmly, but not painfully, as the palms of her hands lifted away from his face and her wrists pulled down. When the tips of each digit touched the collar of his coat they curled into the fabric, easing the garment apart until it could slide over the wide expanse of his shoulders. The Siren could have encouraged the coat to continue to slide from his frame, but instead chose to fold it back once and pull it closer together and toward herself with a surprising grip. The Arc wasn't actually trapped, but he would find the range of motion of his arms fairly restricted if he made no move to stop her.
The light graze of her teeth suddenly increased in pressure─ just precisely enough that the taste of blood would fill both of their mouths.
”Nothing that happens here changes anything, Viers. This is not business. This is not alliance. This is. . .” Her eyes flashed predatorily as she paused, adjusting her grasp on his coat until it was secure in one hand─ her free hand caressing a path up the center of his chest and around the side of his neck until she could fix a hold where his hair was thickest and force his chin to lift, exposing the line of his throat.
”This is something else. . .” She breathed the words against the hollow of his throat before pressing a kiss to his sun-dark flesh.
”Call it a reckoning, if you will,” he would be able to hear the smirk in her heavily-accented words. . .
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Jul 30, 2014 11:00:46 GMT -5
Contrary to what the woman might have believe about him, this wasn’t Viers’ first experience in the sexual passenger seat. The man always gave off the sort of confident aire that placed him at the top of the food chain, and therefore it was understandable to consider him as someone who held pride in never being in a place of any vulnerability or disadvantage; however, to paint the entirety of the Arc with one single color would be to gravely miss out on the nuances of his personality. Viers functioned as a very simple creature on the surface, and therefore most took him to be simple at his core as well. The truth was far more complex, yet most he encountered never received the opportunity to understand just how not simple the Arc truly was. Viers had some small hope that Keretheriel would become one of the few exceptions.
Viers also was in no way surprised by the turn the encounter was rapidly taking, and like a captain without an oar on board, the Arc was content to let the changing winds drive things where they intended him to go. Retribution was expected, given Kereth’s relatively newfound power, for the last time they had an encounter, and that didn’t seem to ruffle the Arc’s feathers in the slightest. The entrapment of his arms by the coat caused the man to flex his arms, but the act only served to tighten Kereth’s hold by creating a small, nearly-illusory feeling of resistance that played into the woman’s actions. The ‘fight’ would only reinforce her feeling of control.
Yet, when blood was drawn, if the mood was changed, the atmosphere was also suddenly changed with it. Like someone flipped a switch, an electric current was run through the air in a manner so palpable Kereth’s skin would undoubtedly tingle. The room was suddenly filled with a dormant force, as though a gas line of metaphysical energy had been cut, causing the raw contents contained within to spill into the surrounding atmosphere, filling it dangerously. And as for the taste? The woman may have prided herself on her ability to intoxicate, but Viers’ blood would demonstrate itself to be an even match. Even in a normal human, touching the Arc’s blood would feel like they had imbibed living fire, an energetic essence more pure than any drug could hope to be setting their senses alight. It would be disorienting, and when brought into the body, so electric it could induce a sense of absolute euphoria. To a creature as powerful as Kereth, so tapped into magic and power, while the effects might be more manageable, they also well may have been more intense. In a way most beings could never hope to understand, Viers’ blood was his lifeforce, his essence; and, though the amount as tiny, that small explosion of energy would light up the bedroom so completely that it may have even announced their presence to those nearby, were they sensitive to such things. Viers, for one, was unconcerned, but perhaps only because he was used to the feeling of his own energy: Kereth would not be, and she might find herself somewhat disoriented as she began to speak.
Viers licked his lips, but wouldn’t fight her as she pulled his head up and to the side, baring his wolfish eyeteeth in a smirking, satisfied expression as she spoke of reckonings. In a way, Viers knew he deserved what she chose to throw his way, both the good and the bad, and therefore he didn’t see any problem with letting her have her way.
Viers, for the moment, could seemingly do little to add to the situation, save for taste his own blood and feel Kereth’s reactions.
“We can always deal with business later.”
The Arc was strapped in for the ride, and Viers knew it would be a very interesting journey
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Post by Keretheriel on Jul 31, 2014 9:16:46 GMT -5
By the time the Siren was pressing her kiss to his throat, the faint trace of his blood had already burned a pathway down the center of her chest and had begun spreading a very interesting sensation to the rest of her body. No, she hadn't been disoriented when she spoke, but that was only in the way of someone not expecting to be affected by anything. Like a teenager drinking alcohol for the first time and having no idea what the effect would be, Keretheriel had no reason to suspect Viers' blood could be mind-altering. And really, any tingle she'd experienced could easily be explained by very good chemistry. Granted, it was difficult to tell if it was actual chemistry or if the Betrayer was simply so provoked by the prospect of handling Viers: she was a predator at heart albeit not a generally violent one. . .
Of course the effects were beginning to multiply exponentially and in a way Keretheriel could no longer chalk up to sexual tension. The lighting in the room stuttered for a fraction of a second; the smirk faded from black-cherry lips as the Siren slowly stepped away from Arc, her chin lifting so that she could pin amethyst with burning grey. Her grip on his coat had not loosened, but her grasp on his hair adjusted so that he could look down at her with relative comfort.
”What is that?” Her accent thickened as the intensity of her stare honed in on his mouth, and she couldn't stop herself from gently smoothing away any trace of his essence from lips that were now on fire with a tongue that was threatening to become numb. She didn't wait for a response, severing eye contact with him to glance around the room. The lighting had changed: was it her doing?
She was suddenly more aware of how the silk skirts she wore felt against the smooth skin of her legs. How the tightly-fitted bodice of her dress cinched her waist and caused the swell of her breasts to strain attractively beneath thick, furred trim. The rough, distressed texture of Viers' coat was instantly the most interesting thing she was touching: Keretheriel was distracted by the flood of sensation but not completely absorbed in reveling in it. She still had choice. In fact, she felt more alert and alive right now than she had since she'd awoken from her prolonged sleep.
When she reached the top of a particularly deep inhale she realized she'd let go of Viers' hair and had both hands twisted up in the delicious fabric of his coat and, unless he'd stopped her, she was blazing a trail of determined kisses up the side of his neck with the intention of drawing his mouth to hers once more. She didn't notice it, but her touch was becoming less deliberate and more heated. As soon as she wondered what his skin would feel like against hers, considering how appealing the fabric of his clothes were, she encouraged him very strongly to part with the garment she'd used to entrap him earlier. One by one, whatever layers he wore would follow until he stood bare-chested before her. Her arms circled his waist, both hands sliding up the musculature of his back and pulling herself closer to him until she could press her cheek to the center of his chest. The tips of her fingers dug against his shoulder blades, tracing every ripple of muscle until she could visualize it.
”I want more.” She looked up at him and, either not caring for his consent or assuming to already have it, kissed his mouth and silenced anything he might have said― unless he was particularly intent on holding her off until he could react. She'd bite him again, an exact replica of the initial slice. She might be high but she had no reason to want to inflict real pain. Keretheriel wouldn't exactly make a conscious choice to begin inexorably pulling him toward the inviting call of those fine, snowy sheets, but she also wouldn't be particularly displeased if she found him responding and compliant with her desire to push him down into that pillowy softness and climb on top of him. . .
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Jul 31, 2014 20:38:30 GMT -5
Uh oh.
Rosencrance Viers hadn’t been in this sort of situation in a long, long time: the last time he had bled had been in the middle of a battlefield rather than a bedroom, and that event itself had been years removed from the current moment. In a very real way, the effect that is blood had on individuals, especially those of the already supernatural persuasion, had slipped his mind. Naturally, even if it hadn’t, the likelihood at the beginning of the afternoon of Keretheriel ending up ingesting some of his blood had been so remote that it wouldn’t be worth considering, but whether it would have been logical to expect or not, the Arc was completely caught off guard by the situation. Luckily, Kereth was too busy acting on her own to give Viers much time to respond, and therefore the Arc kept his body on autopilot as he rapidly tried to work through the ramifications of the current scenario.
Viers didn’t bother answering the woman’s question, sensing that it was primarily rhetorical in nature anyway. As she trailed kisses across his neck, the Arc admitted to himself that his blood entering the equation totally rewrote the situation in a way that gave him a very clear advantage. It also inadvertently worked to rob Keretheriel of her ability to fully consent to what was going on, something he had worked very hard to establish since the onset of their interaction in the apartment. However, clearly Keretheriel had already made her decision, and the amount of sensation the Arc’s blood added to the equation would only heighten her enjoyment of the encounter . . . and by association, his enjoyment as well. So, really there was no problem.
Except the other problem her ingesting of his blood would bring about. Viers had once used his personal version of the Mage’s Arcanum to control, assist, and often punish those under him when he was a military commander, and he was no stranger to using this particular tactic to gain leverage over potential romantic partners or political rivals. If he kept going, if he allowed more of his blood to spill into Kereth’s hungry mouth, it would mean a lasting tie, though not a permanent one. It would mean that Viers would have a very deadly advantage in his relationship to Keretheriel, one he could exploit for his own gain, and to her detriment. And, since Viers had no intention of detailing the structure of his power to the woman, it would be an ace card in his hand that Kereth would be absolutely blind to. But, that was only if he used it. Which he would have no reason to.
Right?
Viers sighed internally as Kereth brought her lips back to his, and he allowed her to begin stripping his jacket, and then the shirt beneath it, off his shoulders, leaving his torso and arms bare to her fascinated touch. There was never really a question as to what he intended to do in the situation. He just felt conflicted about it because the conflict created some sense of a remaining human morality within him. And like most humans, Viers could choose to ignore it for his own benefit: therefore, when Keretheriel bit as his lip to get at more of his blood, Viers bit down harder at the same time, causing a small geyser of red to flow from his mouth to hers even as she turned him and pressed him down into the soft sheets, her body maneuvering on top of him. The effect of multiplying sensation would be instantaneous: whatever was going on in her head as she kissed him, Viers would begin to encircle her with his arms and tug at the clasp to her fur-lined dress, seeking to even up their states of undress.
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Post by Keretheriel on Jul 31, 2014 21:54:31 GMT -5
The Siren was somewhat taken aback by the sudden rush that filled her mouth, but there would be no time to dwell on how readily Viers had supplied her with no needed encouragement.
Time slowed.
When she finally withdrew from that kiss, a single drop of his blood threatened to spill from the corner of her mouth. The very tip of her tongue lapped up the errant pearl before it became a drip. . .
And then she looked down at him, the smirk returning to curve her lips as she admired the contrast between the darkness of his flesh against the perfect white of those now-rumpled sheets. Her eyes were different somehow― brighter and even more surreal in color. The blend of lavender, blue, and grey was more prominent and the irises seemed to be lit from within. Truthfully, all of her seemed to be lit from within. Her skin was improbably radiant and there was a distinct possibility she'd somehow grown taller. To be truthful, she probably more or less resembled the Keretheriel Viers remembered. Perhaps a few enhancements here and there, but he might not be the wiser.
She was already sitting up, straddling his waist with her thighs when his arms circled behind her, tugging at her dress as if he had some kind of intention to remove it. Her lips stretched wide in a self-satisfied smirk as she reached behind herself, taking either of his hands in hers and guiding the palms back to the front of her dress. The bodice was held to her with the stays of a corset: he wouldn't be able to easily pull her out of her garment until she wished it so. He might want her naked, but she had other plans. . . The flat of her open palms pressed his hands to her, gently navigating until his fingertips were brushing the bare skin of her decolletage. Her breath caught at the sheer force of the sensation and her hips offered a slow writhe against him. The Siren watched the ceiling for a moment or two, lost in the contact between their bodies. Electric wasn't a strong enough descriptor for what was passing between them: the heat and friction were positively molten.
The line of her spine bowed forward so that she could make eye contact with him once more, though she'd be entirely distracted by the lengthy tresses of her own blue-black hair and how they trailed against Viers' naked chest in the most aesthetically pleasant way. Long lashes made perfect jet crescents against high cheekbones as her eyes fell closed and her face turned into one of his open hands. A kiss was pressed to the center of his palm before both of his hands were molded to either side of her face. Keretheriel closed the distance between their mouths, engaging him in another long kiss that caused her pulse to quicken.
Goddess, she hadn't felt so alive in too long a time. . .
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Aug 4, 2014 13:04:54 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers didn't resist her movement of his hands, her soft kisses, or the dive downward to meet his lips with hers again. The Siren’s ability to maintain some sense of control given her highly intoxicated state at that moment was, honestly, something to marvel at. As were the subtle changes to her put forward edifice: the lightening of the eyes, the subtle lengthening of her spine, changing her height to one more similar to the Keretheriel that Viers remembered, all of the changes made her shape all the more familiar to the Arc, and therefore more pleasing, despite how attractive the woman’s constructed appearance had been. Viers was attracted to Kereth herself, and not the niceties that she surrounded herself with. Therefore, the changes were certainly pleasing.
The changes also signaled a slight drop in the woman’s control, however, and that opportunity was one that Viers intended to capitalize on, if in a more gentle manner than his usual approach. As the Siren’s lips met with his, Viers raised his hips and shifted his balance suddenly. Twisting to his right and bucking beneath her to start a roll, all the while holding his grip fast against her face, Viers would attempt to roll Kereth onto her back, reversing their positions and the scheme of the power dynamic, placing his body atop hers, still tangled in her lips and her dark tresses. Swiftly, Viers brought his knees together and up onto the bed, rising himself into a spine-bent crouch and creating a wedge between Keretheriel’s legs, separating them more even then they had been beneath her skirts. Viers bit fiercely again at his own lip, which had already healed from the earlier slices, letting another slow trickle of his life force bleed into her mouth, and in the same second the Arc further intensified the kiss, becoming more primal and forceful with his ministrations. So much so that Kereth might not notice his left hand pulling away from her face in order to deal with his last piece of clothing obstruction . . .
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Post by Keretheriel on Aug 5, 2014 12:39:37 GMT -5
The rush of sensation at being flipped onto her back wasn't unappealing to Keretheriel, not if the slow grind of her hips against the tops of his thighs was any indication. Those cherry-stained lips, already swollen from the force of their kisses, pulled into a smile against his mouth: a smile that turned into a pleasant giggle that was probably muted by Viers. Somehow the change in positioning had become fun and the Siren could admit she was actually enjoying herself. Her fingers curled into his short, thick hairs, reveling in how they felt against her skin. Time was completely fluid: every brief touch and brush against her skin seemed to last eons and really, the Siren could be entirely complacent about never leaving that room again right this moment.
When the next flow of blood passed from his mouth to hers, Keretheriel's eyes slowly opened and sparked.
Both of them were swallowed in light that reflected of blues and violets; the walls melted completely away, leaving them in a lone island of supportive silks and bared flesh. There was no tower anymore― the Siren held nothing but disdain for the sterility of that bedroom― and though she hadn't consciously thought to reformat their surroundings, that was precisely what happened. The woman beneath Viers severed the contact between their mouths and very firmly guided him to far more sensitive places, offering up a low, soft moan as she exposed the line of her throat to his pleasure. She wanted his kisses, his heat to cut a path down her center. She wanted him to relish the curves of her body the way her hands were savoring every indent and hollow of his broad musculature. The Siren was a creature that incited passion and lust, but not one that could generally be enthralled by such things. . .
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Aug 5, 2014 19:46:08 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers might have seemed significantly more in control of his emotional state at that moment than the intoxicated Siren, but even with his level-head, the Arc was so involved in what was going on between their bodies that he didn’t even take note of the sudden change in surroundings. The scenery might have shifted, but the landscape Vies was most interested in hadn’t changed since its initial shift, and the hills and valleys of the Siren’s body gave the Arc more than enough terrain to explore for him to utterly disregard the space around them.
Keretheriel, something of a writhing mess of sensitive pleasure impulses at the moment, nonetheless seemed to have no trouble taking back some sense of control as she broke their lip-lock and directed Vier’s mouth elsewhere. The Arc was surprised enough by the forcefulness of the maneuver that he fell right in line, planting nipping kisses along the side of the woman’s throat before biting down harder on her smooth flesh, dragging his tongue across her empowered skin, giving him a slight tingle not unlike the sensation of licking a battery. This new focus distracted Viers from trying to remove his last clothing obstacle, and therefore his pants were only unbuttoned, but not otherwise removed, before his redirected attention made his hands slide up Kereth’s torso, grabbing at her still-covered waist from either side and squeezing as he brought his oral ministrations lower, kissing across her clavicle and the nape of her neck to draw a center line down to the space just above and between the swell of her breasts. He bit her harder there, drawing his back up in an arch as his fingers glided from their places at her waist to slide over the fabric of her dress, tugging at the line covering her chest in an effort to move it downward, giving him more access to the her female landscape.
Viers had held the high ground for only a few minutes, but as he touched and kissed and licked her electrified skin, Keretheriel was quickly gaining it back, for the Arc’s arousal was rising rapidly through his compact frame, and as it had only a few times in the past, that sense of desire began intoxicating Viers’ mind in much the same way that his blood had intoxicated Kereth’s . . .
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Post by Keretheriel on Aug 7, 2014 9:09:42 GMT -5
The Siren let out a long, slow breath when his hands tightened around her waist, holding her in place beneath him. That familiar smirk curled the corners of her mouth as the heat of him set her flesh afire; full lips, crafted for offering shortened breaths and honey-dark moans, parted as her face tipped back― the first of several liquid motions that reverberated through the rest of her form. The longer line of her spine arched toward Viers encouragingly as both of her hands fell away from the hard definition of his back, the fingers splaying against silk as her arms bent to offer her upper body some measure of support.
The sensation of teeth's edge on her skin drew a burning gaze― the impossibly pale irises actually white hot in her state of lessened control― and her body relaxed, knees straightening and arms rising above the thick, tousled mess of blue-black hair framing her upper body. The sheets above her head became twisted in her grip and she watched him with the intensity of a predator waiting to see which path her quarry would choose. The smirk returned in full force when he'd look to pull at the plush fur that stood as barrier 'tween them.
There would be no resistance. . .
Keretheriel watched him carefully, waiting for the micro-expressions he might make when the garment that had stood so strong against his advances simply melted away at his guidance: the beautifully-tailored silk and steel and fur quite literally fell away from her form, divided down the center of her body and vanishing into nothingness at separation from its owner.
The Siren was hungry.
There was no flinch, no heated squirm, no bated breath. She displayed her body for him as if the very act was a conclusion on its own. For the lesser, it very well could be. That any one form could be deemed physical perfection was subjective― perhaps an onlooker might find cause to discount the merits of those curves, but for Viers? For Viers, there would be nothing― no one― more appealing. To say that she could intoxicate him just as he'd infected her wasn't a stretch: the more he allowed his desire to well up within him, the more influence the Siren could exert. . .
Could she force him to freeze in his impassioned pursuit? Overwhelm him with that hypnotic stare? Would he pause at the sight of all of her flesh bared― the pale tones unnaturally even and irresistibly enticing? Or would he immediately fall upon the taut, compact female spread before him and be lost to all else?
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Aug 7, 2014 15:46:16 GMT -5
If Keretheriel had been hoping for the Arc currently tonguing and caressing her upper chest to be shocked when her clothing began to melt away, then unfortunately the Siren would be sorely disappointed. However, Rosencrance Viers did pause as the dress divided along the meridian line of her lithe form, watching the fabric curl and melt like paper to a flame, allowing the phenomena to complete and give the man a full view of Kereth’s naked form. Viers always took the time to appreciate beauty where he saw it, but it was only a few smirking seconds that held the Arc idle before he dove back to his pursuits, his mouth capturing the center of one of her exposed breast, his left hand twisting its fingers around the other.
Viers’ exploration of the newly discovered terrain of Kereth’s body son led him towards greener pastures rather than rolling hills, and the line of his attentions (and his tongue’s points of contact) trailed down the center of the woman’s chest and across her taut abdomen, his hands anchoring themselves around her waist again.
The Arc took his time, prospecting over Kereth’s skin like an art critic over a newly discovered Matisse, his mouth touching, kissing, sucking, and biting along her stomach before continuing lower still, reaching the apex of his interest after a few long, tantalizing minutes of contact. Viers arched his back as forged his trail to the point where Kereth’s long, smooth legs met, and without hesitation, the man simultaneously slid his arms beneath her spread thighs and lifted them and arched his back, bringing her body upward while his moved downward to meet it, and bestow new attentions on the most well-kept of the Siren’s treasures.
As intensely electrified as she was, Viers couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of sensations his touches would incite in the woman, but he was not timid with his motions. He took his time, languishing with some movements while striking hard and fast with others. The man would act as a caring, experienced partner should, and would respond to his companion’s motions and vocalizations by changing the location and force of his tongue’s precise touch, meaning to drive Kereth upwards and outwards into the ecstatic headspace of absolute pleasure . . .
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Post by Keretheriel on Aug 7, 2014 21:38:56 GMT -5
Keretheriel offered a smooth grin as the Arc paused, taking a moment to survey her form, before continuing his erotic assault on her exposed flesh. Her back bowed deliciously, offering up the soft skin of her stomach to his ministrations eagerly. Every kiss, every nip was an explosive wave of pure pleasure that threatened to drown her. The Siren could have easily spent the rest of the night flat on her back, allowing him to explore her body. When his path moved consistently downward, it was Keretheriel's turn to pause. She watched him with eyes half-open, her lips parted and breathless from the moans and small sounds of delight he'd inspired. . .
The feel of his hands sliding 'neath her thighs, gripping her body and pulling her into a position of unbalance so that he might pleasure her more directly was debilitating to her desire to retain some sense of dominance― or at least some implied distance from how he affected her. The way he maneuvered her destroyed any sense of reservation she might have had.
Both of her hands sank into silk, grasping the fine fabric as if it were the only anchor available.
The moment his tongue touched what was most sensitive Keretheriel melted for him, her thighs relaxing and parting wider. The moans that poured from her mouth were small and quiet, but so dark and rich and thick that it was difficult to tell where one ended and the next began. Every muscle in her body tensed but she made no effort to stop or redirect him. Truth be told, she didn't want it to end. Already she was thoroughly and irrevocably addicted to his touch. Perhaps later she would wonder how that was possible. . .
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Post by Tahliya Carystian on Aug 8, 2014 22:13:14 GMT -5
Dorya stepped off the elevator into the 65th floor penthouse curtly, not even waiting for the lift’s doors to close to step the center of the main sweep of floorspace and survey her surroundings. Gaining entrance to the place had been easy, once she had pinpointed it’s exact location: the Variance was certain that Floraelia would not have been happy to find out that Alpha’s operative had a master keycard that worked on her apartment’s security locks, but what the white-princess didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Calmly, Dorya cast her dark-eyed stare around the room.
Clear.
This apartment had clearly been the source of the anomaly that had sprung up only moments before. It had taken the Operative less than a minute to pinpoint the location f the giant magickal energy spike from her exploratory location in the Basilica: it had been her long ride up the nearest skyscraper’s lift and her bounding travel between building-tops that had taken the other four elapsed minutes since the anomaly first began. In that time, the energy had only intensified, and Dorya knew she wouldn’t be the only one who caught on to its significance – she had to work fast.
The fact that the apartment belonged to Floraelia, who Dorya knew for a fact was currently engaged at the Tower with the other council members, made the anomaly’s location all the more strange. Considering that, without security’s permission, no one could enter the living quarters of the Second District Counselor by any regular means, including magickal ones due to Alpha’s intricate shielding, how and why such a spike was taking place in Floraelia’s domicile was immediately the subject of much concern to Dorya, which is exactly why she had come so quickly. It was a safe bet that one of the two concerns Alpha had mentioned, one to Søren and the other to the Variance herself, was responsible for this anomaly, and Dorya was banking on her good fortune that the mysterious Keretheriel was somehow involved: it would certainly make the Operative’s job of finding the woman significantly less time-consuming.
Dorya felt the intense amount of energy within the apartment as soon as she stepped inside and oriented herself, tapping into her constructed abilities to sense energy in a sonar-like manner to pinpoint the precise source of the anomaly. Judging by what Dorya knew of penthouse apartments in the city, having stayed in several in a sporadic fashion, the Variance could surmise that the energy outpour was coming from no other than Floraelia’s bedroom – the only closed door in the apartment, so far as Dorya could see. The operative had crossed the remaining length of the living room and opened the door witout hardly forming the thought to do so, and as the panel slid away from the archway, Dorya quickly found herself looking at a dazzling array of . . . Nothing.
The Operative’s eyes narrowed – the bedroom looked perfectly place and unchanged, without a being to be seen, but Dorya knew there was more to the story than her eyes wanted to tell her. Something was pouring a titanic (for unknown energy, at least) amount of force out of this room, and therefore the Variance didn’t buy for a second that there was no one in the space.
A grey light lit up a ring in Dorya’s eyes as her body-crossing tattoos glowed, tapping into the complex weave of her body’s energy conversion enchantment to get to the bottom of what was going on. Expanding rapidly out into the space around her, the energetic stasis would wrap itself around and within the magickal energies in the room, surrounding and isolating their individual parts in order to catabolize them, breaking the overall architecture of the energy down into its most base components before converting those components to a non-energetic form, which Dorya would then absorb back into her body’s physical structure.
The result would not be instantaneous, but within a few seconds of the dark-skinned Operative’s tattoo light show, the air would ripple and bend, the illusion blanketing the room’s occupants rapidly being broken down and torn apart. Dorya would blink no more than three of four times before the subject of the energy outpour would come into view.
The sight before her had certainly not been what Dorya had been expecting.
The Variance’s lips drew themselves into a sharp line as she crossed her arms over the front of her jacket. Two beings, one of which matched Alpha’s rudimentary description of Keretheriel in some ways, were tangled up on the bed, apparently mid-coitus. It was apparent to the Operative that they were just getting to the good part, too, considering the state of the woman’s undress versus that of the man’s, who still had his pants on despite the location of his head.
Dorya clicked her tongue once, and then would proceed to loudly clear her throat in order to gain the attention of the entangled lovers. Assuming they decided to stop and look at her (and they would, considering how unexpected her interruption seemed to have been), Dorya would raise an eyebrow and address the prone, naked woman.
“Keretheriel, I presume? I need you to come with me: the Magistrate has requested your presence. immediately.”
The Variance certainly was in no way abashed by what she had found, but if the woman could be called impressed with regards to anything she was seeing, it certainly didn’t show on her face.
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