Her grip upon him was as painful as it was pleasurable. Her hand was near vice-like agianst that most sensitive part of his figure. That very length, despite its hardened state, both loved and loathed that very pressure she afforded it. How he desired that friction. How he desired to press himself into the very depths of her figure and claim her entirely and yet her grasp so refused to permit it. That very hold alone seemed, at last, to puncture that haze of bloodlust that gripped the Southern vampire. Enough to coax a groan from within the depths of his throat. The very sound was all but uttered agianst her bloodied arm as Darcy's fangs continued to puncture and ravage her once pristine flesh. How freely that blood ran. Heated and potent. Her arm was all but bathed in it. Darcy, in turn, had become very near coated within that scarlet paint. The scent was....intoxicating. The taste equally so. Darcy was nothing if not content to take his pleasure from her pain as much as her own body seemed to find its own waves of delight within each ravaging bite. She had been the one to teach him this. She had forced him to take pleasure from that pain over and over until the two had all but mingled within his mind. Until pain had become near....arousing and the scent of blood so provoked within him that intoxicating excitement. This was so merely his first chance to explore it upon his own terms. Darcy, for the first time, fighting to control that fucking as he never had before and oh- how quickly he so fought to seize control. That dominant nature, so often contained, so often held back, so readily seemed to take hold. The cowboy's very demeanor seeming to have shifted entirely in those moments to present his lover with a new being entirely. One so crafted by her own hand- one kept at bay so many years.

Her legs rose, wrapping around his figure, drawing him closer as that desire for friction saw him shift agianst her hand. A low growl of frustration rose within his throat and yet- she had his attention. At least for now. Those very words she uttered were near a compliment- one that was perhaps far more meaningful then she truly intended. Some part within that vampiric cowboy seemed to seize upon it. His own words were little more than a growl in response and yet he would not forget her admittance. That he was like her.so many years and perhaps she was finally inclined to admit some....equality. Yet how little Darcy cared to dwell upon such a thing now. Not when those other needs all but clawed at his throat and groin. Lust, desire, hunger- how readily that combined to form a new beat entirely. He wanted her, all of her, in every way possible. To take her, have her, claim her as he had so always desired and she had never permitted. How dangerous that game between them had become. That line, tonight, seemed lost within a blur of outrage and bloodied need. Her lips met his own near fervently and yet she hardly hesitated to allow her fangs to slice at his lips and tongue, that sinting pain so seeming to prompt another hiss from within the depths of his throat and agianst her lips as he only returned that forceful kiss. She was everything. She always had been- and how desperately he desired her now. In every way. In his way. Her grip upon him seemed to loosen, that lack of pressure so readily felt as Darcy's hand moved suddenly to ensnare her own, locking her wrists and drawing them above her head as she had done to him so many times before. Denying her the use of her arms and so preventing her hands from seizing him again. Her fangs flashed in retaliation, Darcy's own lip merely inclined to lift in response. An equal warning. A boldness unlike he had ever dared to show before and yet that caution that so clung to him- that had kept him alive so very long- had all but fled into the abyss of the night.

Her name was a growl upon his lips and yet that word, very near a command, was so designed to seize her attention. To meet the hypnotic blue of her gaze with his own. Her napped response seemed only to prompt his tongue to brush over his lips again, savouring that taste, savouring that feel of her beneath him as she had never allowed herself to be before. Yet- that position was still only by her allowance, and his own determination. How better it was to keep her distracted, pleasured, fulfilled. That very threat to turn her over so seemed to spark a moment of surprise within his mate. One he so hardly allowed to linger before his hips rolled abruptly forward to enter her. God. That feeling. The gasp upon her own lips was all but lost beneath the groan that rolled from within his own throat. She had always felt....exquisite. As wet and tight and flawless as the first time. A goddess in every way. How certain he was that this was the only heaven he would ever see or feel. Yet how hardly he cared to make love tonight. How desperately he desired more. That plethora of emotion so demanding that fucking in the very way she had taught him. His hips thrust forward again and again, sheathing himself within her over and over as her own hips shifted to meet him thirst for thrust. Her leg tightened around him, drawing him closer, deeper, as he other foot rested upon the dashboard, that very positioning allowing her to meet each thrust with her own eagerness. How utterly....intense that pleasure was. Risque's head fell backward, that moan that left her lips nothing short of arousing as those sounds of his own satisfaction rose to join her.

That very tilt of her head so offered the pristine flesh of her neck. That sensitive, intimate place and oh how quickly that hunger tore at him. Sex and pain and blood had for so long gone hand in hand. That want for even more of her was so equally demanding. How fortunate their bodies were so near...indestructible. That simper upon his lips had hardly gone unnoticed, Darcy acting for all the world as if he intended to bring his lips to her own and yet how quickly he struck- his teeth burying into the flesh of her neck. Those rows of sharpened canines pierced flesh and sinew- offering her nothing but pain as the pleasure of blood, her blood, flowed freely upon his own lips and down his throat. That very taste so only prompted a more ardent roll of his hips. That pain and pleasure so both offered at once, in unison and so perfectly blended. The taste of her was nothing short of divine, it always was and oh how greedily he drank at that blood. Darcy so long ago having ceased to care for the state of that truck or those numbered requests she had given him. How little his mind thought of anything at all beyond that sex. He had very nearly forgotten her hands. Her own strength was far beyond his. Darcy so simply incapable of holding that grip upon her even if he had desired it. The southern cowboy forced to release her arms, his teeth so merely biting down more firmly in retribution and yet how quick she was to retaliate in turn. Her nails found his back near instantly, those talons content to rake his flesh open. The pain was sharp, shocking, enough to prompt his figure to flinch agianst her as he felt his own blood rise to the surface as that hiss of pain rose from his own lips. Yet how quickly that pain seemed to shift to a...burn. A burning, heated pain. One that seemed to only spur him onward. The rhythm of his hips hardly shifted, hardly faltered.

His name was an utterance agianst his ear as the fingers of her free hand dug into his hair, threatening to rip him from her neck as she offered those words near sweetly. A chastisement not to make threats he could not uphold. Along with that command to release her neck. A command the likes of which he had never before disobeyed. At least not since those early days so many years ago. A command that even now, it seemed, he was inclined to heed- or seemingly so. His fangs pulled back from her flesh, his tongue running across that bloodied wound to cease that bleeding and close it- for now. Darcy's head rose and yet his hips so continued that thrusting motion, Darcy hardly breaking that rhythm as his gaze met her own once more. That southern cowboys mismatched gaze was nearly....wild. His features utterly bloodstained from his feast. On hand shifted, moving to catch her own again and lift it from his back before bringing her hand around- as if to eye her bloodied fingers and her broken nails. His figure stilled atop her then, Darcy withdrawing nearly fully if only to provide his own mind with but a thread of thought.

"Hmmmm."

That very sound was near thought and growl all at once. His wild, mismatched gaze content to contemplate her bloodied fingers before suddenly, slowly- lifting them to his own lips. How eagerly his tongue brushed over them. Darcy near sweetly licking his own blood from her fingers in a fashion entirely...seductive. Each action was slow and deliberate and so very...contrasting to the heat and destruction of only moments ago.

"So dun show me no mercy den. Take back dat control, darling. If yar can- but.....yar runnin' out o time."

How very cryptic those words and how little he cared to explain them as that almost devilish grin found his lips, a single sweet kiss so pressed to his lovers hand before he released it- only to abruptly thrust forward and enter her again with a renewed passion. Darcy so rapidly increasing those thrusts now in a fashion more forceful and ardent than before. His lips lent forward then to seize her own, his tongue pressing between her lips, offering her that deep, sensual kiss- while slicing his own tongue upon her teeth as if willingly offering her that blood. Yet how far from done he so surely was. Darcy's hand moved to slip between them, to offer that most intimate part of her the caress of his fingers in time with those eager thrusts. How well he knew her, her body- and its limits. Darcy so determinedly attempting to push Risque over that edge before himself. After all- she had so always controlled even that release. Oh, how close he knew she was to that very edge...

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth