Firefly Glen The Witching Hour

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Possible sexual themes.

She rested there, exposed and vulnerable beneath his massive frame. Usually she liked to be the one pinning the others down; not vice versa. But with this man, the son of Vengeance, Tzila felt differently. She welcomed his power, his domination...his thirst for her blood. It excited her in words that dared not slip off her tongue, but were expressed in the serrated rise of crimson stained hackles.

Wired muscles twitched and flexed beneath her bruised, bleeding skin, the cool press of his nose like the inviting warmth of a flame. She wanted more of it...was drawn closer. Tipping her inky crown up towards him, with a purr-like growl, she snapped at the loose skin of his throat, then nibbled her way up to his chin. Any red beads that might have been shed, she kissed away with swift flicks of her tongue. Her shoulders heaved, rolling against the solidity of his chest, spine arching. Hiking her haunches just inches off the ground, rear legs splayed, she deliberately brushed her pelvis squarely between his legs. Her heat had not yet hit, but with the way things were going now, it might as well have.