She is a wicked little thing.

He had expected as much if not from her but he doesn't have to wait long for the crazed girl delivers.

Thick, pink muscle glides along flesh and he jolts alive. Eyelids peeling back as a growl explodes from him. His icy gaze flashes, hand gripping the earth as grass and dirt are ripped from their domain. Her tongue glides along his battered flesh, a euphoric feeling of pain and pleasure seeping into his pores. Her purr spills across his body, washing over him in a desire filled wave. He trembles, eyes fixated upon her own as she works, tending to him and his needs. Well, only some of them for others were becoming more and more urgent.

Her voice once again echoes in his mind and his lips tighten in response. Do your worst. Take it out on his body the emotions you might feel. He welcomes it, craves it, a desire so strong he is unaware of anything else in this moment. Ruin him, break him, tear him from the inside out. Let him feel your power and your anger. And she does. Talon gliding along the inside of each wound. He roars, body shuddering as sweat breaks out along his tattered flesh. His brows furrow, eyes remaining upon her own. He can feel the silver's poison leaving his body, a pleasurable cleanse in this dark world. His flesh crawls, tensing before she works on each wound as claw meets flesh he rumbles, a low menacing thunderous sound that echoes in the silence of the night. The clouds come, hiding the stars from such a horrific sight as this.

But the madness is far from over.

The sound of her shift brings an enlightenment to him. Her fur splitting away to reveal the softness of her painted body. He basks in the way her rich skin glows in the moonlight, the scars igniting upon her body like flames. He rumbles again, body shuddering from more than mere pain. He is helpless in this moment, chest heaving as he takes these ragged breathes. Not just because of the wounds but literally, the girl stole it away from him. Perhaps it is the high from a victorious fight, or perhaps it is the lack of blood finally getting to him but the male has literally started to go crazy. And none of what she was doing was helping. Flesh meets his own and he growls, body lifting instinctively as her lips meet his own. Tongue finds its way into his mouth sending shockwaves through his entire being. She tastes of the blood of his enemies that stained his flesh, a hint of poison and death lingering in her mouth creating a floodgate of desire.

All too soon she leaves him, granting her a daring growl of anger in return as his gaze flickers darkly. He deserves this though, torture him further.

Her grin is mind blowing, the wicked devil inside her daring to come out. His lips part slightly, teeth flashing, the pain is at an all time high, but he is even higher. Her finger slides inside of the first hole and he clenches, body tensing as massive hands ball into fists. Teeth grit, jawline flexing as she takes her sweet ass time to pull the first one from him. Like a release it comes, the wound now pink with healing and the cleanse already beginning to heal. How slow it will all take, the effects of the silver preventing his perfect all too soon. She moves, slowly, horribly so, peeling away the remnants from his battle won. Each is worse than the last and yet he maintains composure, sweat beading upon his forehead as body twitches, there is a groan, one of pleasure and of pain the spills from his mouth. And on the last one she hesitates. Nails slide along his flesh and he snarls "come on."

She finishes him.

Lips meet his own again as fingers dig into his wound. He growls, ravenous and pain-filled as his massive hand slides into her hair. How gentle he had been with her days ago. Where was that man now? Hand twists in her waves. Pushing her into him deeper, deeper, tongue sliding into her mouth and caressing her from the inside out. Other hand reaches for her desperately, hungrily, gripping the smoothness he has grown so accustomed to and dragging her onto him. He rises, wounds twitching as he does so even in his weakened state. Each one seems to have a heartbeat, heat pulsing through them as they throb from the damage done and the torture she has unleashed.

It only drives him crazier. His hand leaves her head, the other leaving her ass as those massive arms wrap around her torso. How small she is, his hands almost able to meet each other as they slide along her ribs. He grips her, kiss long, deep and slow with a daring need behind it. His chest presses into her own, her soft breasts full against him. Perfect, it was all so perfect. His lips break from her, a demanding growl escaping him as his lips meet her cheek, sliding dangerous hot kisses along her jawline and to her neck. Here he sucks, tongue flicking out to grace her skin as teeth dare to leave a mark. It is rhythmic, this moment, and he attempts to leave his mark upon her. She smells fresh, another shower he presumes and he growls again. She doesn't smell like him enough, doesn't have enough of him on her. He snarls at this, the needy kisses falling to her collarbone. There is no pause, no ask for permission. Stop him if you want, hit him, make him bleed, do your worst.

It will only make this better.

Iórkæll dværg