Elysian. Her mouth parted. Elysian. Her lips curled. The King. He eyed her then, seemed to understand the fear in her gaze, the sweet thickness of sour rich dollops wafting from his frame. Her mouth formed words behind the mask that muffled her sounds as he scooped her arms higher with handkerchief clad fingers.
There was no time to think, no time to run because his lips were on her wrist. It began as an almost kiss, a pressure that exploded into a deep radiating pain that burned. His teeth digging into her flesh like a hot knife through butter. He did not provide her with his Vampire's aphrodisiac-like venom, because all she felt was the pain of his teeth scraping at bone.
And her body jerked as he held her tighter, hot mouth clamped noisily over the wound. He tasted the adrenaline that flooded through her veins. But before the scream could bubble out of her throat a strange creeping pleasure danced through her veins. The heat growing and stretching across her skin. And it sang, sang in her soul the way it had sung for so many others before.
Fuck.
Quinn shuddered, breathy as she weakened against his grasp. But like a fucking idiot her clit thumped noisy with pleasure, beating to the sound of her heart. And her knees buckled as pleasure tingled between her thighs, clenched and spewed with running arousal. She bit down a moan.
"Oh," was Elysian's answer, a breathy groan in his throat. The sound muffled against her flesh. "Mmm, oh God. I thought it was you. I knew it was you. Once that shitty coffee touched my tongue, no fucking way the coffee could be that fucking good. There's only one reason. You. It's you."
And with that Elysian's hands seemed to grow desperate. Her own confusion spiking into strange fear as she tried to ponder his words in the haze of his touch. The handkerchief that once separated his touch from hers was gone. His fingers scrabbling over hers for purchase. His arms darting to her waist tugging her close. And then their groins were pressed together, her body flush against his. His body flexed, taut, oddly warm for a vampire. He didn't seem to want to kill her, he looked as if he wanted to fuck her.
"What the fuck?" he came up for gasps of air, before he went down once again, teeth sinking deeper into meatier flesh. But this time there was no pain, his venom seemed to be working overtime, flooding her veins with the thickest relaxant. "What the flying fuck?" he was noisy, confused, but he didn't want to stop, couldn't seem to stop. His cheeks grew pink, flushed with exertion.
He was a messy eater, blood spilling down his chin. But he drank throaty and hungry, so, so hungry that it scared her. The way his eyes burned into her masked face. A furrow deepening as he searched for something in her gaze. His pupils dilating into endless primordial darkness. A predator searching for prey.
"Shit," he hissed, a low groan in his throat as he shuddered and shook seemed to feel it all so much worse than she did. "Of course, you're—You're m-my—" He couldn't finish his sentence with each rush of inhumane pleasure, each bite as he tore into his meal. The spin of his pheromones mixing with her own.
Her own agony pounding between her legs, and she twisted in his grasp almost mewling. Her own moan snagged behind the mask; the sound muffled. But his hips jerked, grinding upwards and she felt the bulge between his legs, the hot length that prodded against her covered slit.
"M-more," he groaned. He tugged her arm higher, his bite marks littering her skin. "Need more." His hands clasped around her waist, fingers moulding against her behind. He groped the flesh and groaned, teeth disengaged with a wet gasp and returned, again and again like a dying man desperate for drink.
Elysian bucked made soft little 'ah, ah, ah' that had her shuddering against him. Her panties saturating with her want. And his gaze lingered on her neck, zeroed upon the vein. The hunger in his eyes seemed to grow as he drank and drank, and her body provided like the monster it was as she held herself and begged for the pleasure to stop.
But it didn't and he seemed to relish in it, grunting as his hips buried deep against hers, seeking until he was digging against the nub of her clothed clit, until she was spasming against his thighs, until there were tears in his eyes. And there was only pleasure in her veins, the spike of it keeping her high, her limbs soft. She could almost cream herself to the scent of his yoghurt, so thick it now grew sweeter, deeper, richer.
His moans against her skin transforming into sobs. She was thrashing against him, her own vision growing only whiter. Her desire spiking as she felt him, warm, hot and thick against her. And God, the knot in her belly only tightened, formed a static like hum that began at the base of her feet and threatened to crash. And finally, the pleasure seemed too much for Elysian, his body growing taut with each rising spike. His hips shaking. He breathed noisy against her skin, hot tongue lapping at her flesh to close the wounds and then biting deep once again.
"Oh," he was whimpering, keening, convulsing against her frame. "Oh f-fuck! I'm going to cu—" He gave a final shaky jerk, and he bit down rough, and messy, tearing through sinew, fat and vein. The ropes of hot semen flooded in his pants, soaking her own clothes. Her clit was overly begging for the friction, but it did not come, and she didn't dare for it too, could not bring herself to grind her cunt against his thigh seeking her own pleasure.
His arms held her only tighter. His nose flaring as he sniffed and sniffed for something that did not exist. And then he was faltering shaking, desperate as the shuddery flooding remains of his twitching cock spewed with the last of his watery seed. And he fell off, clumsy from her, fingers on the oak of the table.
There was a moment as he caught his breath, seemed to stare a little loopy and dazed at her face. Then her throat. The space at her mask where her lips should be. And then his eyes wide, horrified.
Enraged.
"Leave," he grunted. The final bite wound on her flesh remained messy and open, was not closed by the gentle touch of his tongue. And he looked at it, continued staring, his eyes were dilated, doll like. His cheeks warmed and blood smeared messy across his lips as sweat beaded upon his skin. He seemed frantic now. The panic spinning in his widening orbs. He paced, hands on his face, unable to look at her. "LEAVE NOW! TAKE HER AWAY!"
She fell to the ground in a deep bow. And the soldiers were entering sweeping her away on stumbling feet to a closing door. Her exhale was shaky, a breathless whisper of tension. The door closed, and she was rushed away.
But at the very least, he had not recognised her. And he should forget her the very next day.
A/N: Read ahead on my patreon https://www.patreon.com/tinyeyecat