violenceofourgallows:

     (  Aubrey reveled in the warmth of his insides; however, 
        when porcelain began to burn a surprised moan quickly
        fled her lips. Being used wasn’t something the elder was
        fond of, no. If she knew the extent to some of those feeble
        attempts, perhaps there would be more blood on her hands.

        His thoughts were of no use to Violence— only the tantalizing
        way his face contorted in pain. It still brought great amusement
        to the predator, how someone so unstable could eagerly bring
        knowing ruin to their own figure. Such behavior reminded Aubrey
        of someone, but only slightly. To that she’d give no life, to that
        a grimace formed. 

       Removing her arm from his insides, Violence hissed; tearing his 
       grubby hands from burnt flesh. Licking off the [ sweet ] crimson 
       fluid from her fingertips; teal hues set to his as she did so. This
       wound would need tending to, a minor weakness in the throng of
       supernatural abilities Violence possessed. The inability to heal as
       quickly as most of her species, left for interesting results. 

       Raising the malicious silver again, Aubrey plunged it deeply just
       below his collarbones. This action happened thrice in repetition;
       tiny hips canting towards that of the cosmic’s. Her essence filling
       the room hungrily, indulgent, and clearly unrelenting. Even if the
       trails of burnt flesh stung, it stung properly. )

       ❝Don’t tell me what I like…. ❞

Even if it wasn’t shown outwardly— he knew his power had some effect, and that was all that mattered to him. Though she was the queen of pain, the queen of violence— she wasn’t immune and it was something he let be known. He was not weak— and she would slowly learn that.

              But— that day would not be today. And he was fine with that. Why? Because she was giving him exactly what he wanted. For though it seemed as if he fell for her trap, for her chaotic seduction— she was also falling into his own. She craved the violence, craved his screams. 

                              He craved the pain. He craved the feeling— whatever would rid him of the thoughts of his own end. Whatever could keep the beast within him sated. Be it his blood or another— and right now, it was his own and he couldn’t be any happier.

              As the blades collided and sliced, laughs and screams alternated from his bloodied lips— spitting out crimson fluid, a grin plastered upon his face. Did it hurt? Definitely— but why show it?

                       " ——– Oh, but I have not to tell you.
                                 It’s written on your face, mon petit—“

       He could feel her presence throughout the area— and surely his own could be feels. Full of rage, chaos— uncertainty and instability radiated and pulsed throughout.

             If this were anyone else—- they’d be dead by now by the raw power surging through.

                             But no— they were different.
                                      Good— but different.