No, Lazarus had never really been one of the most "in control" types when it came right down to it. That temper of his was easily stirred, the brittle bars containing the monster within him all too effortlessly rattled and shaken loosely from their bearings as it paced anxiously, restlessly back and forth, blackened eyes glittering with wrath as it waited for someone to come along and set it loose. It was only lurking there, just beneath the surface as it snarled at the world with a seething anger for almost all things. There was little in this world that could ever reach through that sinew muscle and seething rage always burning at the core of the dark hunter that could ever reach past those cold, thick walls to bring in a warmth or light filled with hope to silence the anger that roared through the fire that raged. No amount of kind words could ever penetrate those walls. No amount of reassuring touches were enough to chase away the darkness that surrounded the man that kept the world and all in it beyond arm's length away. It was only the burn of that smooth liquor and the pleasurable companion of a woman that ever seemed to come even remotely close to quieting the beast that prowled always in the depths of those dark forest eyes. And even then, there was an entirely difference sense of control that the man hardly had a grip on when he would so indulge himself in those two favorite activities that he chose to partake in. While the rage would calm to a smolder beneath his skin, there was a ravenous hunger and greed that would rise in turn when he attempted to satisfy such... primal cravings. Yet, there had been so very few beautiful creatures he'd stolen the sheets of that could snatch away the entirety of that weakened awareness and control always hanging by a mere thread. Some knew how to press him so that he nearly lost what little he had of that sense of self the man had in those intimate throws of a one-night stand, but there were an extremely slight few that had ever managed to drive him over that edge he often teetered on.

As the witch pressed her lips against the skin of his neck, teeth biting at the sensitive flesh as slender fingers twist into those caramel colored locks, he can feel that thread snapping and burning into oblivion as something in Lazarus shifts into something entirely different... something lacking in that ever-present and consuming rage. What little drunken control the dark hunter may have had as his hand explore those supple breasts of the white-haired woman he pressed himself into was so far gone at this point as a starved lust overrides any and all previous thoughts he may have regarded her with, consumes any and all judgment or inhibitions that had made him so very certain that hell would freeze over long before he ever found himself wanting her. All of that was gone, like it had never existed to begin with as his grip tightens on her skin beneath that spandex and a predatory growl emits from his throat as she nearly tears his jacket off only to quickly do the same with his white t-shirt so that his skin was bare before her. Her lips found the skin of his chiseled chest as he slipped her tank top from her smaller frame to reveal two of his preferred things about the fairer sex, that gluttonous hunger raging further in the dark hunter as dark forest eyes drank them in with a wild thirst for those few seconds before they're pressed against each there again, the fire of her bare skin against his own only further hardening his manhood against her. Blue eyes burning with a lust to rival his own tilt up to him from beneath those dark lashes when her lips cease in their exploration of that muscle upon his upper body only to reach up to his own lips once again, those feverish and starved kisses eagerly met by the man as he grips her tighter, that barely alive subconscious reminding him of that supernatural strength so that he would not hurt or bruise her. Even if she could handle it, even if there was no chance that she couldn't feel it if his grip pushed those mindful limitations, there was some reflexive awareness that kept his hands from going to far despite the lust that had him pushed over the edge as she appealed to his male nature in a way like only one other woman had ever been able to.

When that whimper slips through those lips between those ravenous kisses that he devoured her with, his hands hardly ready to leave their posts upon her soft skin he found himself so hungry for as the beast seized all control of the man and has long since stolen away any chance that this would not lead Lazarus to taking what he almost desperately wanted, craved like the first taste of food after weeks of seemingly endless famine, he cannot stand there with her any longer. His name on her tongue as she damn near begs for mercy from the dark hunter has the beast growling lowly as those dark forest eyes burn wildly with a want he hadn't been so overwhelmed by since Isabelle, but even the woman from his haunted past is dissolved into nothingness in the wake of that wicked desire for the witch that engulfed every single one of Lazarus' heightened senses. He could hear it, smell it, feel it, that fierce lust that grips the woman in his grasp and it only drives him further into that black oblivion of no return, no hope of resurfacing from until he made her his in only the most animalistic of ways, though little did the man know that beneath that drunken haze, under that thick lust that drowned that rage and self-control, there was something in him that had shifted entirely. Something that promised things between Lazarus and the witch would never be the same after tonight. However, for now, he was incapable of such awareness as the beast took control, easily destroying all else that might have ever mattered the the dark hunter as he lifts the woman to carry her to that bed. She clings to him as he moves with unmistakable purpose towards that threshold, their lips hardly drawing away from another, leaving them both breathing heavily beneath the heat that enveloped them until he carries her through that door and lays her down on that bed beneath him.

Making quick work of that last vile piece of clothing that hid the witch from him, Lazarus skillfully slips off that underwear as she moves a hand to grasp at his forearm. For only the most fleeting of moments, he breaks his lips away from her own as he allows for his dark forest gaze to ravage her slowly before he leans over her, head tilted down to devour her lips with his own as that hand guilty of undressing her the rest of the way slides to her core and begins the familiar movements that he knew would get the woman to where he wanted her. Selfish in all other aspects of his life, uncaring and unempathetic to the hopes and wants of those around him, it was almost uncharacteristic for the man to actually want to please the woman beneath him. It seemed that when it came to affairs with women in such a state of lust, Lazarus suddenly becomes a giving being. Who would have guessed? He can feel her body tense at his expertise caressing of that so very sensitive place between her thighs, feeling her grip tightens on his arm as her hips press into his hand as she urges him on and he eagerly obliges, allowing for her to guide him, his own wicked lust only growing heavier as his own parts stiffen in wild want and anticipation for what was to come, his name finding her lips again in a moan that has a low groan of his own answering in wordless reply. How he so thoroughly enjoyed making her say his name... Finally, he can feel her succumb to that ecstacy as she is pushed over the edge then, her moan becoming louder now, those nail digging into his skin and yet it only encourages that wicked and wolfish grin to his chiseled features, clearly satisfied though his own hunger was threatening him even moreso now. When she goes limp, those ragged breaths mingling with the rapid rise and fall of his own chest beneath that want that spurred the beast on further, predatory eyes gleaming down to slitted blues that travel across the length of his own body, he moves that hand to grip the delicious curve of her hips. She props herself up into her elbows then, their eyes locked upon the other when at last her voice thick with pleasure and wanting drawls lazily into the man's ears, a roguish smile finding those plush lips as it only widens his wicked grin."That could be remedied", he growls back lowly in those tenor tones heavy with hunger.

She moves herself into a sitting position then, stark white hair falling around her shoulders she steals a kiss before her hands find his belt and swiftly unfastened it and allows for it to drop to the floor. The woman wastes no time in unbuttoning those faded jeans only to unzip them seconds later, sliding her fingers under thay slackened material before causing them to fall down to the ground at his feet, leaving him standing there in those black boxers with his desire showing through as his body lusted after her own. She does not remove them just yet however, placing her hand on his manhood as she lifts her blue eyes up to hungry dark forest depths, a wicked grin on her features as she teases him then and a dark, rumbling chuckle falls from the man. So, she wanted him to show that he wanted her, did she? Lazarus continues to lean forward as he crawls onto the bed so that he is completely over her between the witch's parted legs and his lips begin to press hungrily into hers, his advances encouraging her to fall once more onto her back."Challenge... accepted...", he growls wickedly between each breath he takes before seeking entrance between her lips again. That hand that had driven the witch to that pinnacle of eactasy now removes his own final article of imprisonment, the beast unable to wait any longer. Pinning her beneath him now as his chiseled chest brushes against exposed breasts, refusing to break the assault as each kiss grows hungrier than the one before, that criminal hand grasps his hardened desire to position it at her entrance while the other remains planted beside her head to support his weight so that he isn't crushing her. He didn't need to pull away to search her gaze for approval or permission, he had all the signs of readiness and equal lust that he needed in her gasping breaths and the scent that urged him on. He rolls his hips into hers slowly at first, savoring the feel of her feminine parts as they embrace him, a guttural groan falling involuntarily from him between those feverish kisses so primal and animalistic that one would think him a were rather than a dark hunter in that moment. Moving that wicked hand to grasp at her hip as if to hold her there beneath him, though he highly doubted she would decide to change her mind now, he is consumed completely and entirely in that fierce lust as he takes her, reveling in the friction and heat of their bare skin with every thrust that brought him deeper into her, each one bringing from the man a deep groan of raging lust between ragged breaths and unrelenting kisses as every part of him sought to satisfy the beast and his wild hunger.