on a steel horse I ride

What was that? Her silken words punctuated the previous silence of the office. Her hypnotic gaze fixated upon the mismatched pattern of his own. That momentary....slip in his control so hardly having gone unnoticed, no matter how fleeting it had been. She had felt his grip upon her wrist tighten, felt his teeth grasp hold of her thumb more firmly in an unspoken treat of promised savagery- a wildness he had not displayed in years and yet, so instinctively, still existed within the very depths of his being. Instinct, after all, was a powerful thing. An inbuilt thing. A facet that could not ever truly be overcome even if it could be tamed to some agreeable compromise. Risque, for well over a century, so having worked to subdue his instinct into something willing to yield to her command. Her training had been so wholly successful and yet within the very depths of his soul that...wildness still persisted. Promising a violent savagery if it were ignored too wilfully. Yet, this time, it was so hardly Risque who sought to press that instinct back in that precarious moment. Darcy, for perhaps the first time in so many years, so readily seemed to master those inbuilt urges to bite, to maim, to fall upon anything that bled with reckless abandon. The very lack of self preservation that was his species greatest assets and eternal ruin. His jaw so simply....relaxed. Inexplicably and without explanation. Releasing his hold upon her thumb. That perilous moment upon the proverbial knife's edge suddenly seemed to cease as his entire figure seemed to relax to some degree in turn. As if some switch had been flicked. That destruction mode abruptly turned off as quickly as it had presented itself. A single thought, after all, had so found its way out of his mind. A single, simple consideration. One that overruled even his own instinct. He would not...bite Risque. Not badly enough to sever her thumb anyway. How surely he knew it. He would not- because he could not. Yet her question still hung within the air. What was that?

"I dun....want ta bite ya."

It was simplistic, perhaps. Far more simplistic than the depth of complex emotion and instinctive reaction the Southern vampire had overcome to offer those near basal words and yet how utterly significant they were all the same. How reaily they represented that victory of his own desire over the very genetic code of his species. That display of his own will, a strength that had, only moments ago, been near perilously lacking as the fear of having his fangs touched had driven him to a near feral-ness. How utterly complex that Southern cowboy was despite the simplicity with which his nature so often presented. Fear and instinct and training and desire and will so resulting in a potent and yet ever shifting blend within that vortex of his mind. One his very mate had, perhaps, not anticipated any more than Darcy himself and yet oh, how their relationship had changed in that past year. How readily that shift to mates had so seemingly expanded upon any capacity for ambition either had held. Even if they so surely denied it. Darcy's grip upon the vampiric Queen's wrist so hardly lessened, the cowboy so refusing to relinquish his prize as his tongue dared to continue to lap at that blood in an effort, perhaps, to distract himself. To allow himself to be distracted. To offer her that view of his fangs she had requested. That desire to comply, after all, remained so wholly intact. Even if he was certain he understood her game now. At least to some degree. Her efforts to...coax him into offering that broken fang had hardly been missed and how readily he called her out upon it. For the first time in well over a century. Darcy so softly uttered that insistence that he was allowing himself to be lured. Distracted. Drawn in. He knew her plan.

That momentary look of surprise upon Risque's features was as fleeting as the beat of a failing heart and yet how assured he was that such surprise was not that he knew her intentions but rather- that he had dared to suggest it. Darcy, those past few months had become...bolder. More so than he had ever been before. A part of the Southern cowboy so relished in meeting his lover on a more...level ground. One that had been so often denied to him when he had merely been her....employee. Risque's words held a distinct edge. Her tone of voice held within it a cautionary note he so hardly missed and indeed held every intent to heed as she insisted she had not been planning on tricking him. Darcy's own head simply shook, his tongue sweeping across her thumb, stealing those last glorious droplets of blood that held within them a plethora of taste and irrevocable delight her blood alone was capable of giving him- as if to soothe that wildness within, offering that more....controlled nature its chance to present itself.

"I didn't tink yar was gunna trick me."

That had not been her intention, no. Perhaps it had been at first and yet her intention had changed in the same fashion as his own. Neither vampire, in that moment, was the same being they had been at the start of that night. How readily her gaze seemed to fixate on his broken fang. Darcy, once more, forced himself to focus upon that taste of blood and the feel of her flesh agianst his hand as he held her wrist. As if those very things were...grounding in some fashion. A determined refusal to slip back into that fearful....violence that seemed to eternally threaten. Yet that question of why he seemed so suddenly accepting still persisted. That thought had taken several moments to solidify within his own mind. Its discovery perhaps not so jarring to himself as it surely would be to his lover and yet how readily that play field of love was a battleground Risque so often and so violently refused to tread no matter how many times she was cast upon it. This was not her battleground- but oh, how assuredly it was his. That very insistence that he loved her far too much to ever bring her that level of maiming harm seemed to coax a look of blatant...disbelief to her features as his own figure seemed to relax all the more. That tension between them evaporated near instantly. Risque's features so readily seemed to shift once more, eyeing him as if he were crazed and yet how readily used to that look he had become any time he dared mention the very love he had professed to her throughout their centuries together. A love that, one day, he held every intention of prying from her.

Her own words were guarded once more as her mind struggled to perceive them. Darcy's grip upon her wrist still refused to lessen. The vampiric cowboy merely watched her with a near....laconic calm that seemed to have settled upon his figure even if his tongue continued to steal at remnants of blood. Her very words, however, were met with yet another shake of his head as Darcy's own features frowned once more in consideration, again, of his own shifting intentions.

"Naw. If yar 'ad grabbed me and 'eld me down when I first came in i'd 'ave bitten yar for sure. Yar didn't do dat. I aint expectin dis."

Darcy's free hand gestured to that sofa they sat upon. The vampire so clearly failed to anticipate her efforts to simply....talk to him. He had so readily anticipated....violence perhaps. Force. A lack of choice upon his part to do anything save submit to her will and yet he had presented himself to her office all the same even anticipating that painful encounter. Obedience, it seemed, had surely played a role and yet- Risque had....altered her approach. Offered him a fair more even ground. Afforded him a chance to push back his own demons without the force of her own hand.

"Yar gave me a chance ta tink on it. When I was tinkin' 'bout it. Summthin' changed. I dunno why or 'ow. I dunno much bout dat stuff, is jus like.....yar ain't a bitch ta me- so I ain't bite ya. I dun want ta bite ya neither. I dun....want to 'urt ya. Unless it's sex but dis ain't bout sex."

That explanation was decidedly....basic, perhaps- and distinctly southern. Darcy's very efforts to explain that display of respect and care and consideration and love upon his mate's part had prompted him to return that same behavior in kind was....lost within his grasp of words. Those emotions perhaps too complex for him to explain- they were, after all, something of a new discovery and yet how certain he was of that shift all the same. Even if he could hardly name it. Something had changed. Something potent. Darcy simply placed the entirety of those emotions beneath the banner of love. It was easier that way and, he was certain, wholly true. Risque was quick to rise to her feet. Darcy, perhaps, was anticipating that very response. His lover's ability to discuss love in any sense was...much as it had always been. The southern cowboy so hardly anticipated anything else and yet his own words were quick to find her once more. Daring her. Baiting her. Goading her. Forcing her to play this game. Did she really not trust him? Her very eyes seemed to narrow in a fashion that prompted that hint of uncertainty within him one more. The cowboy momentarily considered that notion that he had gone too far this time and yet that sudden 'fine' snapped sharply from her lips. First irritated- then almost haughty. She would not lose- no matter the challenge placed before her.

That sudden demand to put his lover's words where his mouth was prompted a near curious look from the cowboy, one so laced with wariness in turn. She moved suddenly, slipping almost seductively into his lap. The feel of her, the scent of her- enough to fixate his attention upon her readily. Wholeheartedly. Her words were near a whisper as she pressed closer to him, into him, agianst him. The feel of her coaxing a near instant reaction from his own figure as her lips pressed seductively to his ear and her bloodied thumb rang across his lips in that request for entry. One tainted with that blood he could hardly ignore. That ever-present hunger so readily prompted his lips to part. He could feel her fingers brushing across every fang, boldly seeking every bladed point as no one ever had before. That desire to bite down prompting a near quiver to his jaw and yet how adamantly he refused to succumb to it. Her hand was firm upon his chest, coaxing him backward agianst that sofa. Her touch was hardly harsh and yet how readily he knew of the force that existed behind it. Of iron chains nestled within a seemingly silken hold. She would hold him down if he tried to move. Darcy near determined to...prevent that very thing. Her fingers brushed agianst that broken fang, Darcy very figure tensing near dangerously beneath her before she uttered that insistence that trust...cut. The sudden yank of her fingers readily saw that tooth give way- roots and all torn from its socket with vampiric ease. A yelp of surprise forced from his lips.. That pain seemed to take several moments to show itself- as if his own mouth struggled to come to terms with that shock- before that inevitable stinging burn seemed to slam him all at once. Her final words almost lost upon him as his features contorted sharply, his gaze eyeing the fang she held between her thumb and forefinger.

"Ow."

It was very near a whisper, Darcy lips parting all the more- only for his own blood to well freely from them now. That gaping wound would be quick to heal and yet how freely it bled in that moment.

"Jesus fucking chirst, ow! OW!"

How readily those words became near shouts, Darcy's legs kicking against the ground in a veritable...tantrum as Risque remained poised within his lap. The vampire eyeing that offending fang within her hand.

"I didn't tink it was dat fuckin' big. I love yar less now."

How he hardly meant those words and yet that tantrum, it seemed, was determined to run its full course as Darcy opened his mouth entirely- offering Risque an uninterrupted view.

"Is dar a bloody big 'ole in me 'ead now?"

His mate, after all, always was....fascinated by wounds of any kind. Darcy, in turn, wholly curious of what sort of crater had been left behind and how long it would take that fang to grow back. The vampire, for now, certain he looked far to...southern with his missing tooth then he had ever intended.

Darcy

I'm wanted, Dead or Alive