Risque could feel her unrelenting control over her clouded leopard, those strings firmly within her control. Those invasive powers so held her fiery leopard on an invisible leash, Her 'champion' as Darcy so distinctly called it. Like they faced a true gauntlet at the foot of their bed. Nothing more than the entertaining whims of two vampires. She knew those odds would hardly please Darcy in the slightest, the man surely one to wager only when those odds suited his favour. Yet... were they not... even enough? That gave Darcy a fragile hope to cling to.. To claim that very victory should Princess earn that victory. After that... rest that Risque was certain Princess didn't need considering her previous battle was against a scraggly orange stray was hardly a challenge at all.

Inside her veins that sweet magical intoxication flowed and pressed like a haze within her mind, it chased back all the initial shortcomings of that earlier evening and with sleep looming so close she felt.. Content. A rare sensation to nestle itself within her chest. That battle was pushed back and yet Risque was far from tamed as she rose gracefully as always to her feet, Mekel's energy fueled by her mistress anticipation at that looming battle ahead of them. Yet... Darcy was hardly free, as her attention honed sharply upon him and his phone. Unwilling to share his attention with anything save for her at that very moment. Her nudging foot a trying insistent thing while she allowed Princess those precious moments of rest. What she didn't anticipate was that shift in the vampire she so irritatingly prodded. Simply because she could. Little did she know it was all... a twisted little ploy or so Risque thought. The truth remained obscure, even to her.

It was that distraction that was enough to catch Risque unawares as she tumbled to the bed softly with her lover so boldly claiming that spot above her, pinning her in place in that act to inspire play and yet all it did was inspire... confusion.. Surely he was not fool enough to challenge her to a match that he would surely lose. Yet it lacked any true intent. She could easily overcome him, make his body submit to her own and yet.. The ever capricious woman retaliated with a mere warning growl, sure enough to prompt some wariness within him.

How bold it was to place her in a submissive position, her moods forever to be like the weather. Any other night she would have been determined as a direct assault. It was a fine line he tread upon, intermingled with the upperhand of surprise. He would bleed for this her mind snarled. One false move and she would show him what it meant to challenge her. Yet that amused, distracting chuckle escaped Darcy and paused her actions entirely as that affectionate kiss was pressed against her neck, his sharpened teeth just barely grazing the long slope of her neck. It was like kissing with razor blades. She flashed her own fangs that glinted as her lips peeled in retaliation as though she intended to meet violence with violence.

He pushed those precarious boundaries of tolerance that usually did not exist... when her dominance was in question. That part within her threatened to rise and yet... his hold was loose. That cursed fae blood did this, broke her well trained mate into whatever this was. Risque could hardly make sense of it as he leaned back, those instincts kicked in, quick and precise even with that gentle influence.

He claimed she was slow, that declaration as it would seem the final straw. Her eyes narrowed in clear outrage at that very statement. In an explosion of inhumane speed, she was nothing but a wicked blur that was impossibly too fast for human eyes to register. The abruptness of it had sent the felines scattering from that bed as if they gained wings while Risque claimed her rightful place, on top even though she had to admit... the weight of his body still lingered within her thoughts.

She was content to make him feel it, his defeat... to show she had only tolerated him for whatever reason known only to her.

He was at her mercy and she should have shown him none.

Risque unable in that moment to grasp the concept of play... and yet Darcy... still lapped it up. He lacked any semblance of fear he should have possessed in that moment. His amusement was clearly written upon his chiselled features as another chuckle seemed to be lost somewhere within his chest.

In an instant the two felines that had fled began pouncing upon one another, those playful growls nothing more than background noise as Mekel pounced the Lynx without her claws. It was precariously like... the vampires upon that bed although Risque lacked the true concept of play. That it seemed lost to the near endless centuries she's walked the earth. She had all but crushed any human part of her to ancient dust. Or so she had thought. She honed herself into some sinful calloused devil.

Apparently.. It was being called slow... that triggered something within her, that desire to prove him wrong. To relish in that sweet victory. Yet something seemed to stir within her, something all too foreign and unchartered that she was completely oblivious to. "Slow?" She begged to differ as she huffed at him, tasting that word that seemed to single handedly inspire a semblance of play within her.

Her expression turned as haughty, perhaps even... dared to be the barest bit playful as her lightly accented words left her parted lips. "I've always been faster than you.." she utters with her hand that had found his way to his throat, her long midnight locks cascaded down to frame them both. It felt strange to hold him in this way without even applying the true pressure that seemed within reach and yet... she withheld. She took a moment to admire the feel of the way her fingers wrapped around him, a perfect fit as they curled into the gentle grooves of his neck. On a human she could feel that steady pulse and yet on him was perfect stillness so much like her own. It was almost soothing. But through this now dominant hold she claimed, it became her game and how she relished within it.

Her knee slid upward to nestle up between his legs silencing him mid sentence, the man wise to hold his tongue when she literally had him by the balls. That mention of being swine-tied however seemed to amuse her even though that term was hardly correct by any means. It was then for at least Risque that game became just as it should be... a game. She allowed her finger to stroke the soft skin upon her rugged man, hovering right over that vein that she could feel that subtle rumble of a growl within, that drew from somewhere within his throat. A sound that hardly lacked any kind of conviction as he followed it with that.... Devoted comment. It nearly caused a laugh to bloom from her, only a defiant note alone managed to escape. Yet it might as well have been laughter.

She rose, perched upon her newfound seat. Darcy was far too quick to rise with her, his strong core lifting him up as if he were on strings as she seemed to flippantly examine her own manicured nails that were more akin to talons as though they were the most fascinating thing. She nearly pressed him back down, bullying him in place. Her chiselled cowboy made a pleasant seat after all.

They were on even ground at that moment. Neither of them holding that dominant upper hand over the other. Darcy appeared as her mirror. She had no intention of allowing him his freedom, a hint of a smirk barely playing upon her lips as she raised her gaze to meet his mismatched eyes. Slowly, methodically his own hand set to intwine within the hand she had admired. She hardly understood what her reckless cowboy was up to and yet she was sure it was something... Her pale gaze flicked toward the sight that symbolized some kind of union.

They both seemed to eye their entwined hands momentarily, Darcy near mesmerized by the sight before he pulled the back of her hand to his lips. That compliment of her very nails uttered. He never complimented her on the colour before, men were oblivious to such things.. Those intricate nuances that went behind every action.

She opened her mouth to speak before he pressed into her, invading her space. For the second time tonight he had caught her by surprise. She should have known better it was a mere distraction before he moved quickly. He moved with purpose to lay them both within that bed, coming up behind her. The length of his body pressed against hers. He was like the frisky cats upon the ground then.. That notion clicking at once within her mind's eye. This was playing? What was its purpose if it had no clear winner? He held her for a second like he hugged her, his hand still holding her own. The term cuddling was banished from the she-devil's vocabulary, the term spooning even more so.

That all too playful growl escaped her mate once more. The once murderous violent man that could saw bone with his teeth like a human garbage disposal... now nothing more than a playful kitten. She raised her hand to bat him away, hardly liking that tickling sensation of his tender, playful nip. "Enough of.... That." She hardly knew how to classify that ticklish act. Only that she hardly liked it. Who would have thought the hellish she-devil could have her ticklish spots.

The leopard and Princess took to playing on the floor more akin to their masters than they had realized. The sounds that spilled from the felines was far from violent, the blend of that soft thudding, chirps, and growls. It was his words that finally spoke out. The television show had long since ended... the tv automatically going into sleep mode. He leaned back, releasing that very hold he had her in and yet he didn't bother to return to his side, rather...the pair.. Rested within the center of the bed in... that uncharted territory a no man's land up until that very moment. He released his full hold, still his body so close to hers and yet she found this far less restricting. His hand settled upon her side where the swell of the curves of her hip began.

How unappealing that thought of a rodeo was... and yet... as her... lover and mate. It was his duty to represent her well in every fashion, that title not only bound him to her... but he was now a clear representation of her in every way. That included decimating the competition at the rodeo. They were the top of that food chain, as well as remaining the apex of that hierarchy in every way. She was above them all and that meant he was too.

Now crushing the competition, that was something she wouldn't mind watching. It had been some time since she saw him perform for her in this way. The vampire queen hummed in thought... her mood hardly what it was when this night began, whether it was the wine that lulled her now or something else was entirely obscure.

Darcy then, wordlessly pulled the blanket over them as sleep threatened them both.

He was already settled once more snuggled in close to her figure... "I will go... on the condition, that if I am to watch you.. You must win. I won't tolerate watching you lose. You represent me." Risque continued on, probably far longer than she had to...

"Right Darcy?" Nothing. How dare he ignore her.

"Move your hand.." She demanded.. But the cowboy had already fallen asleep. What had it been.. Minutes?

"Darcy.. I said.." She lifted her head to turn it to garner only the barest of a glimpse only to confirm what she had already known. But the man was not moving, he was entirely motionless curled up against her like she was a comfort to him as he slept. She reached her hand to his, her hand hovering over it as if she intended only to push him off of her. She was careful not to touch that skin. "Darcy?" Ugh.

Men. They could sleep through anything. That wine and the pull of the rising sun was enough to have him pass out. She too could feel its heaviness and yet she had far more control of it than Darcy did in that very moment. For the briefest of moments she let her hand settle over his, as she pushed it slightly lower so his heavy arm wasn't upon her waist but more on the hip. There. That was better. She shifted herself beneath the sheets, which somehow only pulled him closer. Perhaps only for a few minutes she could allow it as she experimented with the peculiar secure feel of it.

Princess and Mekel had already settled, curled in a tangle together on the floor purring their contentment in the exhaustion in the wake of their play. Her dark long lashes fluttered closed, far heavier than she had realized they were as the day drifted away along with the thoughts of war and destruction at least for a moment.. It was impossible to know who pulled away first in that sleep but at the very least those volatile thoughts a deceptively tamed beast and she... for once... allowed herself to dream.