Why did he care to stare at her hands? She would much rather he fuck her into oblivion as she wanted. His tongue soon brushed upon her bloodied fingers as if curious of the taste of himself upon her flesh.. As if he wanted to taste the gore from her. How she was mesmerized by his mouth which turned almost exploratory. It felt erotic, that mere act executed with meticulous care which might as well stunned her. Her body reacted to those touches, gone was that animalistic sexual hunger and in its place was something new that her made her body clench in need. He teased her, tormented his queen as she could not help but watch his every movement or that as he sucked her fingers clean. He moved with confidence, with his own purpose to explore her so that she ached with the impatient passion he ignited. How the tables had turned.

Enough.

She wanted more of him. She could not help that nearly pitiful sound of protest as she arched in an attempt to draw him back... as arousing as it was to watch his mouth work. To make her wonder what it would be like to feel him between her legs. He did not stop his assault. This was true torture! Was this some kind of strange revenge? Her own control was so put to the test and seemed to fail her as she sunk her own fangs into the plush sensitive skin of her lower lip, the fresh sting enough to slice through the dominating creature that she was. If he did not give, she would take. She lifted her hips to simply take what he refused and yet he remained just infuriatingly out of reach.

Her words became threats. He dared her then to take back that control and she nearly made that happen before he kissed her hand in the most delicate of ways. Distracting from his prior torment. What was this devilish trickery? His expression was just that, impish in every facet that caused her to narrow her eyes. If she took back that control, the simple fact that that he would never get it back. He would regret it. Just as her muscles bunched and coiled as if she was about to spring, he claimed she was running out of time. What did he mean by that? He toyed with her then. But not any longer. Just as she was about to act, he collided with her with such demanding force, filling her so abruptly her body forced to shift up that seat. She cried out a sound of pleasure that had all but ripped from her. He stole it. Then he was crushing her with a kiss so passionate, mingled with blood that drove her nearly into a frenzy. He gave and she met him. There was no such thing as reprieve between them. Until his blasphemous fingers found that spot that he knew all too well. Oh no he did not just choose to unravel her. She moaned into that hungry kiss as she tightened around him just so. Her body betraying her as if she was completely lost to that lack of control. How she forgot in those moments just who she was. Just where they were.

She fed into that kiss, greedily sucking the very blood from his wounds as if she refused to let them heal and close.

Risque ripped her mouth away, panting those final accented words that doomed her and she hardly cared. She wrapped around him as if she could bring him impossibly closer, that need drove them both as she grasped his hair, demanding as she simply cannot help what is in the fiber of her being. How she made him yield his neck to her. Those feminine fangs barely took a fraction of a second before they plunged into his neck with that sweet abandoned control. The blood that welled from the wound rushed into her just as that climax exploded from her in a maddening rush. He seemed to hold out, thrusting into her as she came apart beneath him, as she took back some of the blood he had stolen. Her wicked jaw clamped down harder as she rode wave after wave until he finally could no longer hold back.

His body stilled in his own release just as she rode that final wave, moaning her pleasure only for him. It was as if she had forgotten she had pinned him with her fangs. Only when the she-devil finally released him from her punishing fangs, they untangled themselves like the clouds of a dissipated storm.

Darcy rolled into the passenger seat, that very act almost symbolic to him returning to that submissive role. The pair remained silent, exhaling in a sated sigh. Darcy pulled his pants up half-heartedly, without bothering to close the clasp those pants as if exhaustion clung to him to. They remained in their respective seats, her own blood slick as she didn't bother with modesty of clothing in any respect besides those boots. He seemed to pant, as if he truly needed that air. Risque too felt that need to breathe if only to feel that rare, delicious ache in her lungs from exertion. For a moment they remained until she accused him of not fucking fair as he made her fall off that brink before she had intended.

It was all him. It earned her a sound of amusement as a rare smile found his lips that did not match the monster of a man. A glimpse of the man only she saw.

How fully sated she was in a way she didn't anticipate fully. How did she manage to allow him that control? How did she like it that much? A single syllable of a laugh and a scoff escaped her at his teasing words. Although she is riddled by her own disbelief she doesn't truly linger upon it. "I do suppose it is my fault." In that moment it wasn't like she seemed bothered by that revelation all the same.

It was, as it seemed, that dominance he had found had stripped away and replaced with a fully content male. It was like Darcy was two beings, both of her own making. How curious. It was Darcy who broke the satiated silence.

Risque? Oh, for every time she heard him utter her name in this way she anticipated instantly that something was coming. All she afforded him was a look that was anticipating, one that spoke the words she didn't bother to say. Out with it.

How she thought those requests were forgotten. Conveniently forgotten until now. How quick he seemed to remember as if tactfully saving them for later. She should have been foreseen that ploy. Or perhaps she didn't care that he exploited it. That question escaped him. It was a surprising question she most certainly didn't expect from her lover. He had never been asked to be compared to anyone before. It was like he was content to erase anyone but him. But now he wanted to know how he stacked up in comparison after he knew he was fresh in her mind. When she was thoroughly sated. She knew all too well of her lover's jealous tendencies but never did he question her about the others before him.

Did he truly wish to hear about the many men she had been with in her long life? He was either that confident or wished to torment himself. How beautifully masochistic. She felt the need to draw it out. He was far too satisfied with himself.

She stretched herself out like a cat, infuriatingly taking all the time in the world as she appeared to be sifting through countless memories. One in particular drew to the surface of her mind, one that was far too long ago. He knew she had been around for almost seven hundred years. Did he actually want her to say the words out loud? It felt almost petty to make him wait. Yet she allowed her tongue to taste him still upon her lips as she practically felt his eyes burning into her. " Of course you want me to say it." She enjoyed the sensation of the cool air upon her bloodied naked flesh. "In my undead life, Darcy, that was the best sex in an unmoving vehicle." Her lightly accented words, left her.

How content she was to just lounge there for a while, to simply be lost to the haze of excellent sex. That was until his voice pierced the quietude once more. She turned her head once more to peer upwards, noting the sun roof for the first time. The first request barely spoken before he had another.

Another!

Give an inch and they take, take take. She afforded him a look that said all she was feeling and yet her temper was soothed like a well-fed tigress. Perhaps she would hear him out. If only for her own entertainment, inquisitive as to what he would even ask for. Surely, he didn't want to hear of her other sexual partners in depth. Although, she would have no qualm of it, if only to watch him squirm.

Darcy seemed to watch her as always, constantly gauging her vacillating moods. Very well. "Another request? Well look who suddenly remembered them. How insatiable. Continue." Those final words uttered in French, her tone hardly chastising. If anything a loose amusement lingered.

Risque turned her head, catching that rare grin that found his handsome bloodied features as she idly traced idle, languid circles through the painted blood around her navel thoughtfully. He was exceptional tonight, she could not deny him that. More than she ever demanded of a lover. He was everything she had crafted and yet something all of his own... Something different beneath that facade of her loyal, submissive mate. How curious she was of this side of him. How unfinished she was with it and yet... still.

Did he not realize the significance, or the weight of what he asked? Did he not realize what he wanted from her? Could she offer him this again? She was an utterly complex creature and yet in his own way he was becoming his own.

Yet how surprisingly sated she had felt when she thought she would be left... almost slightly unfulfilled. Sex had always been done her way. Could she afford him more of this? This was a true test to her tolerance.
Her eyes that appeared near depthless narrowed and yet it was more out of considering those possibilities, taking into account. She lifted a long elegant leg as if examining the cowboy boot upon her foot. How surprising free of blood they were as if her man somehow willed it to be untouched. They faired far better than the seats. She lowered her boot, back into the darkness. It was one thing to have sex away from Syn, within that truck far enough away from her instincts to be on top of every aspect in her life.

It was another to offer him this within their shared bed, within her dominion.

Her mate. How she was realizing that bond had far more weight than she had once realized when she had first accepted. The bond that seemed to shift and consume as it went. The answer should have been clear. A resounding no that would not be questioned. No matter how good that sex was.

Yet, how she was far from done with that newfound monster she had found deep within the layers of all that she had created. The one she had been cultivating without realizing that she had designed him to be the perfect mate. How long had he lusted for her in these forbidden ways. "Perhaps, I might entertain the idea.." It was spoken so nonchalantly as the feline queen rose from her seat to prop herself up, her midnight hair framing her face. She was uncaring that the only thing she wore was their blood and those boots.

However.... He seemed to distractedly notice the state of his vehicle suddenly. It hardly looked like the same vehicle. He was right. They truly did break it in. What was a truck if it could not withstand them? They were supposed to be more durable than the rest of her fleet. "I might task one of the initiates with it." A task that they would surely dread. She looked around that spacious truck cabin. "This truck does suit you... I... like it for you." However, she was hardly finished with their prior topic as it still lingered within her mind.

"So what is it that you propose then, cowboy? You have my intrigue and my ear." She shifted within her seat, pale eyes spearing his own. It would be far too easy to tell him how it was going to go, even though, ultimately, she already knew what she was willing to attempt and what she wasn't. A sharp manicured brow rose impatiently, not offering him a moment to collect his own thoughts. "Well?" She could offer him that rope to hang himself with and yet he was far too clever for that.