Firefly Glen The Witching Hour

@Abbadon

Her tongue rolled out, pressing against the broken skin to taste the weeping blood. She wanted to know what he, the quencher of such liquid, tasted like himself. She let it glide over her taste buds and roll down her throat, lips twitching in a sinister little grin while he growled, apparently in approval. The increasing pressure he applied did nothing to tear her away; she had far from enough. With a guttural rumble of a growl, Tzila practically shoved herself closer, begging him to rip her open further. As she had practiced before, she would use the sensation of pain to fuel her pleasure.

Having not been satisfied by the meager flow of blood from his ear (though it bled quite profusely as ears do), she un-hinged her legs from his neck, dragging her teeth away none too gently. She kept her head and neck angled pointedly down, so he might maintain his grip on her with only minor twisting and adjusting. Standing alongside him now, a contrasting dark flank brushing his pale furred one, she turned her teeth towards another target. The temple just above his brows. She bit down, creating deep puncture wounds in his flesh. Two not so little vampire like marks, which in time would heal long after their affair.