Firefly Glen The Witching Hour

Abaddon wasn't one to lose his tongue easily. A carefree, callous man who enjoyed saying what immediately popped into his head should it be something that would make an interesting scenario unfold. But now, right now, he was wordless as she hoisted herself against his thick shoulders. Her previous words fell on deaf ears, and the skull-faced man stood there with a maw slightly open as he eyed... her.

Or more specifically, that closer, more exposed, neck of hers. She was in striking distance. The world stood still in his eyes, deaf and mute as all he could almost hear was her heartbeat beating under that tender, sweet flesh of hers. He truly was that bastard's son after all. A beast of self indulgence, of pleasures. I will - He said breathlessly, the white smoke reaching around his muzzle and entangling into her fur as he inched closer... I want- Lips quivering - 

Oh fuck it

He had no self control. The bitch put herself in this vulnerable position. Like lightning he struck with hunger, saliva spewing from his lips as he reached to draw blood. Not to kill, no, that would be a tragic possibility but all he wanted was to drink. He was simply being uncharacteristic about it at the moment, blaming the woman for teasing him and almost begging for his full attention.