Firefly Glen The Witching Hour

As she nipped and picked at his legs while she walked by, the rolling growl grew until he snapped at the empty air between them, bloodied fangs and lips in a threatening display - he was being playful of course, with no intention to follow through with his empty threat other than to push her further into their little dance. His maw and brow were caked in fresh blood, thick with the substance as he followed her lead.

As she laid onto her belly he was quick to act. Pressing his nose against the sensitive flesh, beginning at the pubis and letting it run up until it met with her bottom rib. Slowly, step by step he crawled his way up. Breath hot on every rib until he found her neck again, that wound, and took another taste of it.

Should she allow it all, the pale man should be above her. Legs on either side of her body. The air was thick with their blood, mostly hers but his was clearly entangled within as well thanks to her won intervention. Oh the things he wanted to do to her. The young man's blood boiled with anticipation and desire.