nysalogs | . all you have's your axe to grind . closed

Entry tags:

. all you have's your axe to grind . closed

Who: Takasugi Shinsuke (

shikomizue) & "Friends" | Closed
What: Catch All For April-May-June
When: Over April / May / June
Where: Mostly Wyver, some Thesa and Olympia
Warning(s): alcohol + graphic violence + bang + will edit as needed

[ closed starters in the comments ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If I'd have run into you, I wouldn't have been fool enough to let you fuck me in public.

[For exactly that reason and more. She'd demanded silence from each of her men that night, and in turn refused to scream or whimper or moan, loath to let anyone know what she was up to. She has no doubt Takasugi would have demanded that from her, too. She can perfectly picture it: his fingers insistent as he kept her hands from covering her mouth, breathing filth against her ear as one mewling moan after another slipped past her lips . . .]

I'm not letting you fuck me in public now.

[But they are going to fuck, she thinks, and drains her second glass, her shiver more pronounced this time. She sets the glass down heavily, heat flushing her cheeks and down her chest, more aware of all the points where their bodies meet.]

Does that disappoint you? Or are your fantasies fulfilled so long as you shove your cock in me in one way if not another?

[Being in public or not has no bearing on Takasugi's desires. They swim in his mind, lilting in and out of focus when he's alone, and growing agitated when he watches her jaw set at the sight of him.

What matters is that she writhes. She twists under him, fighting to get just one more word out of her mouth.

And when he's finished, he's left a mark. Bruises may not sate him this time... not when he's already known the satisfaction of leaving scars.

They've both settled on the inevitability of their clashing arrogance changing courts, all that's left is to actually move.

But he won't be the first. Won't be called desperate if he rises from his seat to find somewhere private, as she's so gratingly specified a preference for.]

Heh.

I don't think of you so often. [Even Takasugi doesn't know whether he's lying or not.]

But if I did, I wouldn't imagine the feeling of being inside you. I know what fucking a woman feels like.

[Thumb pressed squarely against the curve of her jaw, Takasugi presses Rosalind's face upwards, harsher into his cheek. Affectionate, to any onlookers.] I'd wonder what state I'd like to see you in.

On your knees. Or drooling with your face pressed into the wall.

Maybe I'd mark your neck again.

[She lets out a soft noise, protesting, as his thumb hooked beneath her jaw, the movement just shy of painful. She resents being moved in any capacity, but isn't stupid enough to try and wrench away just yet. Not only is she not in the right position to do so, but he'll only double his grip on her if she tries.

So they sit there, looking for all the world like a sweet and loving couple, as Rosalind bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from snarling at him. Arousal and fury twist within her, frustration and a deep-seated desire to see him ruined making her breath catch. One fuels the other, and his filthy remarks only make it worse. She wants-- she wants him to suffer for speaking to her in such a way, imagining her in such an undignified position, as if she'll ever do either for him. She wants to fight him, hurt him, bloody him and bruise him; she wants him desperate for her, begging her, powerless, needing her, wet mouth and blown-out pupils, whining like the little rat he is, all so she can have the satisfaction of denying him.

Her breath leaves her in a shuddering exhale, more anger than she'd like coloring her breath. That quiet reminder of the last time they'd met is enough to have her nails sinking into his hip, and she jerks against him, trying to pull up.]

You'll be lucky if you get to see me on my knees. I shan't even dignify your other fantasy with an answer.

Count your blessings, Takasugi, that I'm lifting my skirts at all for you. Now let go--

[Her nails sink in deep at that word, curling to really hurt.]

--and follow me.

[Her shudder of a protest only whets Takasugi's appetite. He can taste her trembling breath on his lips, sharp with liquor. They both possess the same flavor, and as the night goes on and their mouths become battered and worried, they'll both taste like blood, too.

Takasugi's tongue plays on the back of his teeth, dampening the eagerness that's beginning to lick at his gut.

For all of the fleeting whims that cross his mind - holding her bent until her strength leaves her, fucking her raw until the only thing that aggravating voice of hers can do is scream, prying her jaw apart so she can taste him - Takasugi finds nothing so satisfying as the woman's rage.

Watching it shudder from her chest now nearly makes him lurch forward, press her back into the seat and damn her petty little preferences. That'd piss her off, enough to watch the woman of reason be reduced to a snarling beast.

One he doesn't seek to tame, but overtake.

Only the pain she's digging into him grounds him; Takasugi lowers his hand, sliding it from one shoulder to the other to run down her arm and wrap around her wrist. He pulls her hand away.

Too late to keep his hip from stinging when he stands. He delivers recompense in how tight his grip becomes, shifting bone between his fingers as they depart 'hand in hand'.]

Mmn. [There's nothing worth saying. A taunt, did you plan on this happening, eventually? how much have you thought about it?, would only be lost in the physicality between them.

Instead he keeps his mouth drawn shut in a taut smile, one that threatens to snap along with his restraint the moment they're alone.]

[She has a brief thought, as the skin along her wrist goes white from how tight he's gripping, on how foolish this is. On how the safe, sane thing to do would be to jam a knee between his legs and teleport away, until she could reach home and lock the doors. Or even better: use the power that curls within her veins, savage and bloodthirsty, and sink it into Takasugi, make him scream from the pain of it.

Either of those options would be acceptable. Not walking towards her home with him, her cunt wet and her temper rising.

But Rosalind has never once gone for the safe option. Sane, maybe, but safety is dull. Charming boys with mouths full of polite words and false compliments are dull; men who are human, who are petty, who stare at her and see her beauty and desire only that, are immensely boring.

Takasugi, for all his flaws (and they are many), is none of those things. He's intelligent and cruel, sadistic and ruthless. He looks at her and sees her worst qualities, and it's those he finds beautiful.

They'll fuck tonight. It'll be a savage affair, rough and bloody, as much a fight as anything. And if he crosses a line, if he pushes in a way that she doesn't want, she has more than enough powers at her fingertips to put him in his place.

. . . the thought suits her, frankly. Takasugi, wrapped up by the daemonic powers Ardyn bestowed upon her, struggling and gasping in pure rage as he's rendered helpless, oh, yes. It's almost enough to make her hope he toes the line.

They'll see how it goes.

(And really, the other part of this, the part that she won't dwell on for fear of growing melancholy, is this: she misses her Robert. It's been over half a year since she's seen him, and she's lonely and full of grief, and it's better to be furious and engaged than sitting at home crying to herself).

The journey home isn't far, perhaps a few blocks. Dorian isn't home, thank god, and so it's a darkened townhouse that Rosalind unlocks. She'd wrenched her wrist away from him the moment she could, but her arm still feels the ghost of that warmth as the lock clicks and the door swings open.

Here we go, she thinks, and half-turns, glancing behind her. It doesn't pay to keep her eyes off him.]

Edited 2018-06-12 00:40 (UTC)

[Olympia's crisp night bites his lips, leaves them throbbing with heat he can't stand to suffer alone. Company won't alleviate the need that grows more and more violent in his chest as they walk, but taking will.

He'll rip clothes, tear skin. Knot her hair and twist her neck until it snaps.

If she manages to bring him to the point of losing restraint this time, it will be a release. Not fervor forced from him by alien waters that make a need of anything. Anyone.

They're more intimate than just two bodies on the street.

But not rivals. That's too close, too mired in obsession.

After tonight, nothing will have changed. They'll bicker with and frustrate one another just for the hell of it. As always. Maybe he'll learn a new place to touch, somewhere that will make her mewl, a vehicle for subtle escalation.

A way to tell her he wants again.

Takasugi watches the woman twist the key in her lock like a hungry beast. He's still, deliberate as he slides half-step after half-step closer. Until the darkness of her home is revealed.

He doesn't wait for his eye to adjust.

In a lunge, he sweeps her inside, a hand on her jaw and the other on her shoulder. Once they collide with something - a wall, a mirror, the stairs, he doesn't care - his lower hand descends further, passing over stomach and hip to curl in her skirt and grope her ass.

He leads with teeth, sinking them into her bottom lip without even an attempt to disguise bite as kiss. A groan, he wants to tear into her now. Wants to taste blood and feel her jerk in his arms. Wants to fight and wants to win.

Challenges entice him, and she's always been a pain, but victory is forever the only acceptable outcome.]

[The door slams shut behind them just as her back hits the wall, and in an instant they've begun. His fingers dig into her, stinging even through the material of her skirt, but she might have endured that silently. Truly, that feels good more than it hurts, and she wants badly to moan, but she won't, not from that. He'll have to work hard if he wants to hear her whimpering in pleasure for him.

No, it's his teeth that manage to win the first point of the night. They hurt, sinking down on her bottom lip with no attempt at being merciful; Rosalind jerks in his arms, pain shuddering its way down her spine as she lets out a protesting noise. No, perhaps, and yes all at once, her lip throbbing and her legs spreading eagerly as she grabs his hips and yanks him in close.

He isn't drawing blood, not just yet, but he'll assuredly do so soon if he keeps biting. Which is why one hand threads through his hair, and Rosalind gasps as she yanks hard, wrenching his head back and baring his throat. In a flash she's darted down, red lipstick smearing against his throat as teeth flash and she bites at him. Not as savagely, not as cruelly, but deep, her tongue dragging over each mark she leaves.]

Ask for what you want--

[Breathed out against his throat, and she laughs as she bites down again, intent on sucking a dark mark just beneath his jaw.

Her other hand is at his clothes, pulling at the tie on his yukata, eager to strip him down before he does her. Already her skirt is risen up, stockings and strips of bare thighs revealed, and it'll be a matter of time before he tears them off.

But she'll get him first, and she hums in satisfaction as she feels fabric give and go limp. Even once again.]

Edited 2018-06-12 02:59 (UTC)

[She's already shaken. Her shudder courses through Takasugi, an uneven breath hissed into her mouth. His tongue darts out, lapping at the swell of her lip - he savors the taste.

Savors the way her hands dig into him, desperate. He moves without resistance, acquiescing to the gesture with a roll of his hips. They're almost flush, but Takasugi shifts to slide a thigh against the heat of hers. Pry her leg away, pull the fabric of her skirt taught.

His neck is pulled the same, sharp nails against his scalp bringing budding, static painc where hair is wrapped tightly in hand. He groans as heat spreads in blossoms along his throat, leaving behind a jaw that can't close and lips curled in a snarl.

Knees bending, Takasugi shifts to accommodate for the woman's position. He feels her weight, her teeth, and her haughty little laugh.

She's too eager. This isn't enough.

As her hands work over his sash, his lose yukata, he tangles his fingers in her skirt. When fabric falls from his shoulders, rests draped at his waist supported only by his sleeves, he tears. The very knit of the fabric splits, seams popped audibly as he rips her decency from her.

His hands climb, rough knuckles along soft, exposed stomach before he renders her shirt in similar tatters.

But rather than ruin her bra, Takasugi reaches higher - he wraps his grip around her jaw, sparing her neck for the moment to squeeze where the bone juts. He forces her upwards, prying her mouth from his neck and stretching his shoulders to regain the stature he's lost to her hold in his hair.

The motion drives pinpricks of pain into a sharper ache, but it frees his jaw.]

I'd rather take it.

[There's a protesting-but-not noise as he tears her clothes off her, a gasp for the savagery of his movements and a whine for how much of a turn-on it is. In an instant she stands in her underwear before him, white lace and flushed skin, loose wisps of red hair falling around her face. And yet, though she's exposed to him, she doesn't feel any weaker for it.

Perhaps because he's stripped as well. Perhaps because they both know clothing is the least of what they'll do tonight, so it's little matter if they're both naked. Either way, Rosalind licks her lips, waiting for the inevitable moment when he goes for her underwear.

But no. He goes for her neck-- no, her jaw, thank god, and Rosalind's head tips back, her pulse jumping as she releases his hair. She's far from beaten, not yet, but god knows she remembers what it had been like to have his fingers around her throat. She won't risk provoking him into that a second time.]

So take it, if you can.

[She says it steadily, her eyes locked on his. Deliberately, slowly, she rocks her hips down, grinding against his thigh. The motion brings a flush to her cheeks, her panties growing wetter as she works for her own pleasure.

A light flashes in the window, and for a moment her gaze is torn from him. They're still in the hallway, and there's a large bay window just a few feet away, curtains drawn back and window half-open. There's the occasional voice wafting in, snatches of conversation as a summer breeze cools the house, and that would be fine, save for the fact they're about three seconds away from fucking.

It's just a momentary glance. She won't be stupid enough to fuss about it; that will only encourage him. Instead she grabs his hip, shoving him roughly, trying to get him to move towards the stairway.]

Come on--

[With his hair released, Takasugi pauses. Hisses a breath between teeth bared in a strained grin. He doesn't release her, but his pressure abates, something almost gentle in the way the fingers not pinching her jaw wander along its edge.

He feels her heat, the sort that leaves a cool slick behind on his skin. It halts the rise and fall of his chest long enough for him to shift his thigh into her again, repeat her motion to make more of a mess in her wake.

White spreads over her skin, stark in the flash of light. Takasugi's eye has begun to adjust, vision sharp enough to make out the detail of delicate lace flush against her skin. How the lines quiver and shake with her breath, and the way thin lines of red scatter over the straps of her bra.

He isn't eager to strip her further - she's picked quite the ensemble to wear tonight. Thinking about the possibility of being seen? Or is she always so vain? The reason doesn't matter; the display is for him now, and he'll linger in it as he pleases.

The delay comes in a disconnect; he lets her go long enough to shrug his clothing entirely from himself, loosening the fundoshi around his waist enough for it to fall from him with enough movement.

But he won't indulge the woman's plea - steps following her demands won't be what renders him bare before her.

Chill laps against the small of his back, a breeze from outside drifting through partially opened window. She'd stolen a glance to it, and that's all it takes for Takasugi to know why she'd wanted to move. Not for the comfort of a bed - there's no illusion of comfort between them - but for privacy.

To keep her voice from ringing out over the street when he tears it from her.

His footing remains steady, hip swaying forward only enough for him to grab her wrist. He pulls, yanking her from the wall and into his chest.] Here is fine-

[As if he's doing her a favor.

With her flush against him, Takasugi's hands move to roam up her backside. Fingers curl under the edge of her panties, kneading her ass and spreading her as he pleases. Then the small of her back, curling his hand against spine before delving lower again.

And this time he takes her panties with him, tugging them down from hip so far they stretch. Tear. Pulled from her and dropped to the ground before he presses her back into the wall to look over what he's revealed with hands anchored on her ribs, below the swell of her breasts.]

Edited 2018-06-19 01:03 (UTC)

[She isn't visible for the time being, and so she won't make the mistake of urging him ever more frantically. He isn't doing anything that will earn a scream, not yet, and so she allows the way he moves her. His hands groping and touching feels sinfully good, a heated pressure that she arches into and squirms against hungrily, hips rocking. She exhales shakily as he spreads her open, her head ducking for just a moment to brush against his neck. It's everything and nothing all at once: the barest of reactions, and yet a point in his direction, a small acknowledgement that he's affected her.

She'd expected him to strip her. She had not expected him to tear her clothes even further, but it's over in an instant, a rough tear and then lace in tatters around her ankles, so fast she can't be bothered to complain about it. He shoves her back, his eyes greedy and slow as they stare, and she fights the urge to shift her weight or pull him close.

It's not that she's embarrassed. But no matter how much confidence she has, it's still unnerving to have someone do nothing but look at you, intimate and unflinching. She pants softly, ribs rising and falling beneath his hands, and watches his expression for a long moment.

She knows she's an attractive sight. Wide hips and a pleasantly slender frame, her skin pale in the darkness. She isn't yet so wet she's humiliating herself with it, but it's undeniable he's had an effect on her.

Soon her own gaze flits down, drinking him in. Noting the jut of muscle and what scars there might be; how he's already half-hard, as hungry for her as she is him. How he looks without his clothes, his bearing somehow unaffected despite the inherent indignity.]

Well?

[She looks straight at him, and it's pronounced with a clear air of challenge.]

[There's weight on his neck, her neck's curve and the jut of her spine crested by moonlight filtered through the open window. Takasugi only sees it in his periphery, long enough to wonder what her back would look like arched the same, darkened form lit along its curves by the glowing night.

He'll see it soon enough.

Head lilting to the side, Takasugi gives the woman a rough nuzzle, acknowledgement of her submission, not affection.

From feeling her breath to seeing it - even the air that fills her belongs to him. He can rob it at any time, wrap his hands around her neck until her lips fade dark. And he can watch it as long as he pleases, see how her breasts swell and shift with each inhale.

Her eyes on him do little to disrupt his indulgence. There are scars, littered over the entirety of revealed skin. Some old, some new; the most notable is a knotted oval on his gut, one she'll likely discover runs all the way through him.

Slowly, Takasugi lifts his jaw, until he's looking down on her with a grin of fraying patience.

Well?

His grip tightens in an instant, fingers digging into the soft give of skin between ribs. He turns her, wrenching her body carelessly to slam her into the wall. The sound of her weight colliding fills the hall, and he fills the space between them.

Cock pressed into her ass, he slides himself against her. Too slowly to do anything but build his heat, Takasugi moves to make her feel him, rather than to bring pleasure to himself. He groans, mouth pressed teeth to flesh just under her ear. All while his hands climb, pressing between already smothered breasts and the wall to grope - hard - and claim the rest of her.]

[It's only quick reflexes that save her face from being smashed into the wall; she manages to brace a forearm there first, catching herself as her torso slams forward. It stings, but the heat he slips between her thighs a moment later is the best kind of distraction.

He's angled so perfectly she knows it must be deliberate, and yes, of course it's to tease, of course he'll taunt her with it sooner or later, but that doesn't mean she won't gladly take advantage of it. A soft noise slips past her lips as she shifts her weight, one leg spreading. He presses against her, heated and hard, and her cheeks flush as she rocks her hips back. He slides against her cunt, and oh, but she's gotten him ready in an instant, his cock growing slicker by the second thanks to how wet she is. The feeling is intoxicating, utterly tantalizing, and Rosalind bites back a groan. She won't whine or beg for him to fuck her, not at all, not even if she's starting to feel the ache from not being filled.

Instead: she reaches back, grabbing his hip tightly, pulling him forward so she can set the pace both ways as she rocks against him. His hands creep up her, his fingers warm and firm as they wrap around her breasts, and she shivers, pleased at the roughness. His fingers dig in, and within a moment her body responds, nipples hardening, easily felt through the scant lace.

Outside, another pair of voices drifts in. They're drunken, too loud and boisterous, all but shouting as they slur their words. They've no idea there's an open window above them, never mind what's going on with in the house, and yet Rosalind shudders, biting down hard on her lip to ensure she won't make a noise. Those soft groans from before were bad enough; she won't let another noise slip out.]

[The fingers digging into his hips are sharp. Takasugi's shoulders twitch, the smallest of motion betraying his displeasure. She'll feel it, he knows, he's pressed into her almost wholly, rutting at the pace she's set.

Indulging her desire only because it's so damn blatant, nipples hardening under his fingers and legs opening for him eagerly.

Voices lilt in, and they seem to chill the woman in his arms more than the breeze. She shakes and he grins, all teeth against skin as he pauses. Lets the presence of people be the only thing to think about.

The streets will know her pleasure by the end of the night.

As the sound of errant drunks fades, Takasugi's grip on the woman's breasts lightens.

He noticed the way she'd braced herself. Saved her face from what could have been a bruise, kept her head from swimming with impact. If she hadn't maybe his hand wouldn't be winding around her side, up her back.

Burying palm first in her hair and pressing forward. With all the strength necessary - and then just a bit more - he forces her head against wall. The motion is quiet, slowly intensifying rather than sudden. Her skull rolls against it, then her cheek.

With enough force to displace her jaw, give the illusion that she's slackened for him.

Then he bucks his hips, angling the tip of his cock more directly into her warmth. It doesn't slip inside, but he feels the full breadth of just how wet she's become.

And he laughs, pulls his head away to watch how her body writhes from pain and desire all at once, all but pinned at his mercy.]

[The force of his hand is slow but inexorable, a persistent force rather than the sharp, quick thing it had been before. The benefit is that the pain is minimal, and lessens as she moves with his prompting, letting her head be pinned to the wall. The drawback comes a moment later, as he forces her in even further, fingers digging into her hair, pushing until her mouth drops open and she pants wantonly.

She isn't entirely pinned. Her hands are free, and one still braces against the wall, the palm flat against the smooth plaster. Could she force herself back and break from his grip? Perhaps, but surely he's expecting that.

And then for a moment her thoughts go blank, because then he's pushing in further, and oh, god, but that feels good. It's not what she wants, but it's so close, and she arches her back, her hips moving automatically to push into that touch. The barest hints of slick, overheated pressure, nudging against her again and again before sliding down and teasing against her clit. He keeps repeating the process, over and over, and she feels a whine building in her throat. Again she jerks her hips back with little fineese, trying and failing to force him into giving her what she craves. More, and yet all he does is draw back-- not entirely, no, giving her no relief from that sweet torture at all, but she can see him watching her.

He laughs, and her blood boils.

He wants to make her vocal. That's why he's forcing her mouth open, why he's slowly driving her up the wall. But she won't, not here, she's determined-- not only for her dignity's sake, but because now it's a point of pride. Her fingers curl, and with a force of effort she keeps still, not giving him the satisfaction of squirming and writhing.

She can't stop the way her legs tremble, though.]

You do know what to do next, yes? Or are you going to just stand there and do nothing but get yourself off?

[Her coordination is draining. Arms splayed awkwardly, just to put up the most minimal of resistance to his hold. Hips shuddering at the mere tip of his cock, Rosalind is coming undone.

He won't stop until she's completely frayed.

Takasugi's head tilts, his hips swaying to the side with his gaze. Cock against her thigh, there's nothing but a warm sensation in the wrong place for her to please herself with.

She's quite the sight, hair disheveled and mouth agape. He'd thought he'd need to fuck her raw to see her like this - how will she look once she's sated? The thought makes him shiver.

His body resents the lack of warmth, and he acquiesces to that baser desire. Takasugi leans in, listening to her snarled demand with another cracked laugh.

What to do, when she keeps running her mouth. Goading him step by step, telling him what she wants in an infuriatingly arrogant way. If she thinks he cares about her pleasure enough to listen to demands like this, she's an idiot.

But, more likely, she's just more desperate than she's letting on.

A conclusion Takasugi wants to know, to see in her body writhing more wantonly, to feel in shudders and dripping wetness. He won't give her his cock so soon.

Instead, his fingers release her hair to drag across her face, too sloppy to give even the illusion of a caress. He forces them into her mouth, two digits curling and tugging at her cheek while a third presses her tongue down and slides back into her throat.]

You should find a better use for that mouth of yours.

Ah--!

[That's loud, louder than she intends, a shocked exclamation rendered sloppy and loud thanks to his ministrations. His fingers are deft, stretching her mouth open wide and forcing themselves inside.

With any other man, in any other situation, she'd melt. She'd moan and struggle to wrap her lips around his fingers so she could suck on them and watch her partner grow hotter by the second. She adores using her mouth; god knows she'd gotten off on it time and again during the gala, getting on her knees once her partners had had their fill.

There's a part of her aching for it even now. She wants to show off, to slide her tongue against the sensitive tips of his fingers, to suck on him and let him sink as deeply into her as he pleases, over and over, until she's shaking with desire.

Any other man, she'd indulge.

But with him, it's always, always different.

For one thing, it's hotter. A baser, filthier sort of arousal, something raw and sexual twisted up with the lure of the forbidden. He's awful, he's truly cruel and sadistic and dangerous, he's not normal, and god knows she's always been attracted to that. Hot waves of arousal make her cunt throb again and again even as fury rises up within her. His fingers tease in her mouth, tapping against teeth and forcing their way in, and her eyes water as she struggles not to gag.

She wants this, oh, yes. But for him? She wants to win even more.

So naturally, she bites down. Did he think she wouldn't? He presents such an easy target, fingers sliding down her throat, why wouldn't she take her revenge? Especially on the heels of a statement like that, patronizing and overtly misogynistic--

It's instinctively satisfying to feel her teeth sink deep into skin. She doesn't go halfway with it, but rather bites so it hurts, her canines sinking down sharply, clenching her jaw so that he'll surely tear skin if he jerks his hand back. Let him bleed; she'd like to see him hurt, even a little.]

[Fingers brush against molars, his skin is calloused, but he can still feel the edge of her teeth. How close he is to being bitten; the position he's in won't be easy to slip away from, should she choose to clench down on him.

Unless she hesitates.

Even a moment, and he'll fish all three fingers into her cheek and pull. Hard enough to make it feel like her flesh could tear.

With that threat hanging between them, the pleasure he rends from forcing himself back into her throat needs to be taken quickly. His finger skirts the slick there before pressing down onto her tongue, forcing it to wrap around him.

She'd feel good around his cock too, face held between his hands as he fucks her mouth. His arousal twitches at the thought, and in the moment his attention has turned to the heat of their tangled legs, she bites.]

Fh- [He presses his lips shut, swallowing his expletive - but he can't suppress a groan. His arm jerked against the pain, pulling away just enough to feel her teeth grind against the muscle and bone of his fingers.

She's already done enough damage to leave his arm shaking. He presses his hand in further, into her teeth, feeding the bite until all three fingers are knuckle deep in her throat. It hurts, her bite bruising and scraping skin away, but he needs her to choke.

Give him the opportunity to pull away.

And once he does, he brings the freed hand quickly downward. She won't be spared of his fingers yet. They crawl over her ass before delving between her legs. Two slip in immediately, aching and uncoordinated as they throb. He curls them inside her, frustrated and rough.

Maybe she'll enjoy being made raw, but Takasugi isn't trying to give her any more pleasure here than he had in her mouth.]

Fuck!

[She, on the other hand, doesn't bother to bite back her curse. That intrusion is painful, forced forward, slick fingers too big shoved into something too small. He stretches her open, forces her to deal with it, and she throbs around him, arching her back and spreading her legs, panting harshly to try and compensate.

Which isn't to say it doesn't feel good. Oh, it does. Her cunt pulsates, wetness coating his fingers immediately; the instant he curls them her legs tremble, just for a moment, involuntary and a direct response to the heat crashing through her. It's nothing and everything all at once, but though her instinct is to moan, she bites it back. If he moves his fingers more, perhaps, he'll earn a shriek, but as it is, it ought to count as a victory already: Rosalind with her ass out and her legs spread, wet and aching because of him.]

S-shouldn't you-- ah-- shouldn't you be used to pain, soldier boy? Or are you too used to blades and explosions to remember how it feels under someone else's hands?

[Explosions? There hadn't been any explosions in his memory . . . but then again, she certainly had met his friend from home. And oh, taunting him is absolutely a bad idea, but there she goes, doing it anyway.]

[Weight bears down on his wrist, her body's attempt to adjust to the intrusion making his fingers slip somewhere more shallow. A position he rights quickly; Takasugi brings his body flush against hers. Arousal pressed into her leg, he curls his fingers.

Hooks her inside, before relaxing to spread her entrance. Working her over like she's never been fucked, when they both know she's adoring this. The attention and the inescapable sensations that have her shuddering caught between pain and pleasure.

Something she can't deny, for all her propriety and pride. She isn't suffering-

Takasugi's hand twists, his palm slick with pooled fluid that runs from her hole all the way down his forearm. The angle he wrenches from her enables more motion, a steady but no less violent in and out.

He feels her throbbing, he can smell her heat, but he wants to see her trembling before he gives her his cock.

Since her asking for it, rather than demanding it, is out of the realm of possibility. Somehow, she manages to still taunt - utter things that sink under his skin. He hasn't been called soldier boy in a decade.

His mouth presses into her shoulder, all heat and lip only for a second before teeth dig in. As sharply as she had gnashed against his fingers he works her over. Skin worried until he can taste blood.]

[She's dripping, so wet it's obscene, dripping down her thighs and leaving her shaking from the sensation. His teasing with his fingers only makes it worse: he spreads her open wide, stretching her out and not giving her what she wants. More, she wants something thicker, hotter, something that will leave her screaming (but she can't scream, not here, a distant thought). Her hips rock back again and again, fucking eagerly against his fingers, eyes closing as she exhales shakily.

And then he bites.

It's an instantaneous pain, sharp and white-hot and such a vivid contrast to how fantastic his fingers feel. Rosalind cries out loudly, unable to help it, her body writhing in earnest as she tries and fails to get away. The pain is blinding, more than she's used to, more than she ever wants to feel; surely it isn't as bad as when he'd cut her arm, but right now it feels as though it is.

Skin breaks and blood trickles down, and with a hissed snarl she reaches behind her. She can't get herself out of the hold he has, but she can at least teleport them.

One moment, she's up against the wall, and the next--

--in a breath, in a second, feeling like nothing at all--

--they're crashing onto her queen-sized mattress, limbs tangling, and Rosalind jerks, trying to turn, eager to get him under her before he can do the opposite.]

[Rosalind's veneer of pain melts away, the sloppy rhythm of her hips an embarrassing display of desperation. She's not in pain, but maybe she is suffering, yearning for something she can't have until he decides to give it to her.

Wet and lewd, a mess that can't stop thinking about his cock.

A sight that's almost as satisfying as feeling her skin give under his teeth, and tasting the sharp iron flavor of her blood. He'd prefer her outcry had come from getting fucked, but the release of her voice is a victory-

A passerby stops, there's a muttered exchange between friends, before footsteps resume.

He barely hears it, the sound of his lips dragging over her skin and his palm hitting her cunt in errant intervals throbbing louder in his ears.

In a moment, all of that falls away.

Ground no longer under his feet, but beneath him - Takasugi braces for the drop without realizing what's happened. Scattered hands anchor to the woman flush against him, one gripping forearm and the other hip.

What they hit is soft. A mattress.

In the moment taken to orient himself, she's freed. Crawled on top of him soon enough to see his eye narrow from surprise to aggravation. His cock aches against her, hips shifting so subtly he doesn't notice - he's preoccupied reaching up to try and grab her jaw. Not to choke, but to fling her away and reassert himself.]

No, no--

[Growled and muttered, her head jerking wildly as she grabs his wrists and throws her weight down, trying to keep him pinned. She won't resort to Ardyn's powers, not yet, not least of which because they're incredibly painful to call upon, but they're most certainly a last resort.

Her shoulder is bleeding. Drops of blood slip down her skin, over her shoulderblade, dripping down to hit his torso in meaningless patterns. He lies beneath her, pale skin and sharp expression, and he feels so good between her legs, his cock pulsing, just as hungry to fuck as she is. Rosalind rocks her hips back, working against him minutely, watching his expression with heated eyes.]

Settle down.

[Any direction between them gets lost in a feral battle for power. Takasugi's torso twists, giving his hands just a little extra leeway to grab her hair. Anything to pull her back to him, back under him-

Just as he's tangling his fingers in auburn tresses, her weight comes crashing down. He feels what's in his hands tear away, hasty grip not sure enough to anchor him against her momentum.

His knuckles press into the mattress; he's flexing in her grip, testing her strength. Rosalind's weight isn't anything he can't overcome, but he doesn't break away. Not yet-

The way her heat feels bearing down on him, nearly enveloping him, brings Takasugi's own craving to the forefront of his mind. He groans, eye unfocused as his head keens back to writhe into the mattress before he goes slack.

'Calm'.

Hardly subdued, he waits. Eeks out what pleasure he can from the grind of her hips. It's not enough, each time she drags against him only leaves him wanting more.

With a growl, he wrenches his arms away and sits up. Seizes her jaw, thumbs along the jut of bone and fingers wrapped around the back of her head. It's the closest to behaving as a lover he gets, and the kiss he instigates is more tongue than teeth.

He wants her warmth, and if he can't have it between her legs, he'll have it here.

It still isn't enough.]

[It's a messy kiss, harsh and firm, but that's no different than anything else they've done tonight. Rosalind groans into it, opening her mouth to it as her hands settle on his shoulders. Perched in his lap like this, they could almost be mistaken for lovers (though no one could miss the way they touch each other as anything but rough and frantic).]

W-why-- why don't you ask for it--

[She tucks her head down, teeth scraping at his jaw.]

Ask me to let you fuck me.

. all you have's your axe to grind . closed

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