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 Love can resurrect what death will intercept

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by reverse, Jun 30, 2018.

  1. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Roan was still living somewhere out in the world in his head. It's what she had liked about him from the beginning. But the streams of inspiration reflected a vengeful place, described. Feathers thrown, cutting through clouds of blood. Lips and teeth. Sacrilegious truth about god-things acting like earth's animals. In his mixed moments, he tried to reconcile the divine with its children. Humans were made to believe in greater things, and he'd felt the greater things act like earth's animals.

    Roan didn't know what to say about his knowledge. He knew about heavenly slaughter like he'd known the round wooden brick went into the round hole in the wooden panel. Children know because they are innocent, and they're innocent because they are empty of both virtue and sin. He wasn't a child anymore, and erred largely in the way of wrath. Pride, there, lust, too. A honeycomb pattern of all the bad things. He'd wandered around perfectly fine, putting his truths on paper, or speaking them into thirsty microphones, while nurturing his own sins against other people as people do.

    Then someone put a stray note in a gallery, and a gaggle of someones noticed it. The more people liked his expression of the truth, the more he was made to express. It was hard, living close to the galleries that wanted him, and he couldn't very well take responsibility from afar. It seemed important, somehow, to stay close to the site of impact. Some nights he stood in the streetlamp light until the sun came up. Artists who won't take bloated sums for their vision starve even after discovery.

    She couldn't have that. She was pretty as a day. She understood something about the words he wrote that other's only sensed. Intrigue became a friendship that blossomed mostly in the dining area close to walls where his soul hung. She was his constant in the tides of transient discoverers. So he leaned on her when he doubted himself, and when the cold was too bitter to be chased away by the company of streetlight, he borrowed her roof when she offered. It was convenient. It became intimate. But when his troubles faded in his new domestic cosmos - her couch, her rooms, her scents - he was left alone with his inspirations and her admiration of it, of him.

    It shone a light on the discrepancy of him and the vessel he ought to be. A good person, she thought, when all he'd been before his art was a cesspool of weaknesses - chemical, flesh, impulse. His temper had roiled today, missing the strife of surviving on the concrete, and reminiscing over the bodies it had gotten to let out on. But he'd learned to suffer in silence. Anger can be an inside treasure, too. In some ways, for a beast, a beauty is a shackle. He wore it well, his wrathful presence. It faded on his white skin and stayed around the darker roots of his light hair.

    Today he'd tied it back, it was just barely the length. The prominent details of his face became almost severe, and softened only in the light, when his complexion smoothed out the shadows. Starving, as it was said, but not his lips. They'd been spoiled, somehow, lush flesh that stretched into knowing and demeaning smirks. He would go round her with his primal intelligence, and then assault her with words coming from behind his teeth. Like all poisonous things, his mouth was flamboyantly colored.

    "Welcome home, queen of the castle." he said, tossing his jacket expertly to hang on a hook. The outwear eventually crumpled to the floor but for a few moments, he'd seemed formidable. His long arms flapped once in disappointment, theatrical, and then he laughed. Roan's mood was light, it seemed, when he channeled his brood into motion. He'd been particularly good on their little outing, his usual melancholy pretty left for a more dashing demeanor. Even the waiter had been charmed. All manner of energies lived inside Roan. The drinks had helped.
     
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  2. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    Fables of the world above often told of light and golden happiness, smiles of hope with pretty beings granting wishful prayers. Many believed in the dreams of paradise, to fall into the embrace of peace were shadows never stepped. She knew better, of the skies and unseen truths that humanity failed to witness. There was a time that her own radiance mirrored the minds of children, creating the image of how they believed her to be. Yet with the dress of silk were unseen cuffs to cage her, and no doves could dance patterns around her yellow hair while she held her sword high.

    It was a war that ensued, clashing wings of white and black to spread blood of the divine across the clouds. For years the skies rained crimson, joining the Earth and seeping into her mountains and rivers while mortal eyes remained blind to the carnage. They couldn't see the streaks of pain above their heads, even movies of warring angelic creatures could never compare to the reality of it all.

    The battle finally found it's end, and so did she. What torture was it to take the hand of her enemy, to give her heart with intention of aiding his distress. It was betrayal of her people but she was a rebellious one, and in return the punishment was his death and her wings. Eyes of crystal darkened to sapphire, and her hair flowed to match that of raven feathers. Cast out from the harsh ruling of an enchanted kingdom, Iris fell to live among those she had fought to protect.

    How little their minds were as they grasped on to religious words and houses of prayers, the realm they knew as Heaven held it's sour secrets as did any land. But she danced along when needed, hiding the truth and letting the comforting lies conceal the pain of abandonment. Years passed and time refused to brush over her, they had stolen away her powers but left her immortality. To live and die with humanity would be natural and quick, to continue life after others died would leave her alone and pained. Death could greet her with it's cold claws, but returning to life was just as agonizing. Her world had cursed her with an endless cycle of torture but she strived to fight past it, taking what she could while learning to blend in with the world around her.

    Iris was drawn to his words and depictions of a place she once knew, if only he understood how close he was to the truth. It was welcomed change to step in the presence of one who could nearly see into her life, even as strangers greeting each other he managed to take her breath away. Roan possessed something within him that the woman could not tear herself away from, just as she remained stubborn to stay by the demon's side she found herself declining the thought of leaving his. No challenge was held in charming the fallen angel, one who sought silence and loneliness to escape the crazed world.

    While not sexual, in her loose sweaters to hide well rounded curves, she did allow for her feelings to develop to a point within the romance which bloomed between them. Her virtue had returned months before meeting him, and it was a settled wish to not give herself as fast as she had the previous time. The man that she had invited happily into her home was special enough to take such a gift, yet even as her world began to revolve around him there was something that kept her from floating too close. Nervousness, perhaps fear, pushed the opportunities away just as they began.

    She had been quiet that night, hearing the spite from the one that she had carved into her life. The thin line was not hard for her to see, and so she carefully stepped her path and allowed the fruity alcohol to counsel her. A smile crossed her full lips as she held on to the favorable moments of their night, long hair worn up to display the slender soft skin of her neck. It was no rare occurrence for other men to train their eyes on the beauty with deep blue eyes, but those eyes only remained transfixed on him.

    With a light laughter that echoed his, Iris closed the door behind her before she removed her sweater. That night she had decided to decorate herself for him, a black dress that reached up to wrap around her neck in the manner of a halter top. Not used to the fabric that was much tighter than her wide tops, it took some time to grow comfortable enough to forget about the choice of clothing.

    Snatching up the fallen coat to hand it alongside her sweater, she then turned to Roan with a smile that bloomed with her heartfelt emotions towards him. To others she was distant and a recluse of a woman, but he had peeled away the outer linings of her being to reach something deeper. Secrets still remained, but they were not of importance. At least, that was what she believed.

    "Maybe you had one too many, hm?" Iris teased him, wrapping her touch around his waist as she leaned to kiss his cheek. Drinks had relaxed her enough to touch without thinking, and it might had been herself who had a bit too much.
     
    Last edited: Jun 30, 2018
  3. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    He received her affection and felt it reach outward from where her lips touched. It wasn't unheard of that he'd get a kiss or a peck, they were twined in some way, but it wasn't commonplace either. It had left him somewhat starving for skin, living here. With the pretty, lifted bones in his face, and his clear eyes in the artist's expression, he'd been spoiled with nearness almost whenever he wanted it before her. It seemed out of place now, given their connection, and it put a weight on his heart despite his rationalizations about the needs of the human animal every time he escaped into another body.

    He was looking forward to it not being a problem today. After all, how could there be trifle if he was being a perfect gentleman, and she might be part whore for him - she had been Madonna enough. Iris was beautiful, and that was a problem. Her shapes whispered to him under her unflattering clothes. The affection they felt was also a kind of fuel to this line of trouble. Mostly, he'd be held up in his head, deciphering his heart about his next expression, but he was a person underneath his inspiration, too.

    "I had as many as I meant to, Iris." he replied with good humor as he touched her cheek. Her dress was troublesome. His hand examined it thoroughly on it way down to her hip, to bring her in closer. Dark eyes read the beauty of her face at null distance. A burst of his more volatile spirit had him pick her up and spin her against him. He'd been a beast among more sophisticated men, after all - aloof craftsman of words against their talk of the moods of the market - and only followed convention when convention followed him.

    Their home was simple, though nestled close to the blocks where his displays were, and he'd come to know it well over these months. His nights spent under city lights were fewer, exchanged for hardwood walks and quiet hours sitting on the floor in the kitchen in the undulating light of passing cars. He could enjoy the roil of his own emotions then, even if those waves would swim the corridors and lash up against her bedroom door, all the same.

    He was moving them that way now, spinning her while holding her against him every few steps. Playful, ragged wolf. He put his eyebrow to her forehead so he could sense some of her heat. It was delightful, and all that could think about, most of his day. He stopped by a wall and let her back rest on it as he wrapped fingers around her chin so he could tip her head back against the surface, too. The gesture was meant to be tender, but some of his poisonous frustrations applied more tension than he meant. After all, adoring someone is hating them a little, too. "Are you my friend, Iris?" he asked gingerly before seeking to kiss her, holding her up simply by his hips to hers. "Are we going to play games together?"
     
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  4. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    Little resistance was felt as he led her to him, easily moved as her body sought comfort in his hold. She knew he approved of her lovely display, and the drinks had allowed the flirtatious creature to awaken with soft touches and beautiful smiles. Iris held little worry of the darkness that had crossed his gaze from time to time, instead it called for her. Her wings would have wrapped him so delicately to ease the turmoil of his mind, but without them she could only embrace Roan once a door was opened.

    The warmth of his touch sent a blush to sweep across her cheeks, it was no secret that she admired the gesture. Had she been sober she would had slipped away, careful as she always had been. But she could, not while the look in his eyes ensnared her while taking in her details. A moment had passed and Iris found herself lifted in his arms, bringing a surprised laugh to escape her while she hugged his shoulders. His playful movements drowned her senses, tearing down the walls of her being while no other could accomplish such a feat. She was strong and he weakened her, and for that she admired him.

    Closing her eyes as the cool wall met where the dress failed to cover on her back, she allowed a shiver to roll along her flesh. Roan's hips had been closer than what her sensible mind would have allowed, but in her current state she could only move a leg upward in response. Knee bent so her inner thigh could rest against his hip, her mind barely registered the fabric of her dress which had lifted to display the soft skin of her leg.

    "You know that I am," Sapphires gazed questionably at him, yet became half lidded to the intimacy of his body against hers. Could he feel the heavy thuds of her heart as it shook her form? It was a dizzying sensation, to be in the spotlight of the one she had yearned to keep close. Lips near her own, Iris felt powerless in his grasp while he held her head steady. "Roan.." The woman's breathing had hitched to the next question, taking seconds given to answer as a chance to assume what he meant.

    There was no question in her body language that she approved of the attention, but her gaze turned to uncertainty. She didn't wish to dive too fast, not with him. It could have been a fear of change between them, would her happiness of his company remain if she allowed him inside? Unwilling to sour the moment between them, Iris laughed a gentle tone and traced her fingertips along his jawline as she calmed her weariness, "What are you doing? Just what games do you have in mind?"
     
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  5. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    She was unfolding prettily tonight. They'd left the summer outside for this somewhat controlled temperature, but the mixture of their heats was becoming oppressive on their own. It was good, though. She would usually find clever ways to dance herself out of his advances, or say something to make him remember her image of him was askew. Her laughter made him forget. She was perfectly agreeable, for the moment. Her leg helped lock them together. It was easy to fall into the illusion that their smooth embrace was normal.

    But he didn't know what she was. He knew what she drew out of him, and how frustrating it was. Her addictive eyes, her breath compromised. She was better when she wasn't collected. He prided himself in having lulled her, with wine's help, into this pliable state. He meant to kiss her, to usher her further into this playful mood so he could bring their games to her sheets, but even as he parted his lips and touched them to hers, he saw the meaning in her eyes change. It made him sigh hotly, but retreat without closing the intimacy.

    Somewhat swayed by her touch, he scanned her face again. In so many ways, the gentle rise and ebb of emotions were infuriating. What games? He wanted to tear her apart, and he wanted to advance slow for her. Her loving calm and her eager curves. It seemed unfair, in the end. And what was worse, was that she was ignorant to it. "How about I tell you?" he suggested with a meaning smile. He pushed her harder against the wall, some of his temper flaring. Not the passion in the common sense, not worship. The way his hips pushed firmly to part her legs further, and marry their shapes, suggested intent to hurt.

    It wasn't malicious, only an expression of self. Their faces were almost joined now. He could have had that kiss with a deep inhale. But they were still courting for that. He didn't know why things were so difficult between them. Certainly he'd had his way through less obvious situations. With her, nothing was easy. "Come closer then." it was not possible. it would mean she'd have to take the liplock herself. He slid them along the wall toward her chambers. It was his body that insisted, and Roan was becoming too primal to let his pride argue.

    Despite deeply rooted conflict - she was only that to him, whether it be her kindness or infuriating mysteries, or her loud, wordless draw for him to do heedless sins with her inviting body - he was still addicted to something he'd never truly sampled, and let them both ease down the wall. Soon she was seated on his folded legs, her back still resting against the wall while he pushed her dress up, rolling it to become a belt around her waist. His hand, like his hunger, was automatic, and his exhales were ragged.
     
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  6. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    Her lips tingled to the feel of his own as they brushed against hers, seeking for a kiss. Yet he pulled back, watching the change in her eyes while his expression changed in return. Frustration fueled within the man who had her pinned, keeping their bodies molded together without signs of releasing her. A small yelp left her at the push of his hips, legs widening to his forcefulness in strength which outmatched her during her dizzy state.

    Iris didn't kiss him, instead her eyes searched his as if to find something that she could a way to calm him. She wouldn't fight, she couldn't, not when it would further upset the one who placed a meaning in her life of solitude. "You're hurting me, please.." The woman ran her hands along his shoulders, gracing them along his neck with the hope of calming him. But the heat between them had already begun to rise, and Roan's gaze held no intent of letting it simmer.

    As he slid her form down to the floor she began to stop his hands, her straddled position creating conflict and refusing to let her stand so easily. The black lace of her panties exposed and she ripped her skirt back down, finally showing some sort of aggressiveness in her refusal. "It's too fast, I can't, I told you that I want things to move slow," Holding his gaze she wanted him to understand, but the lust of man did well to outweigh the innocent, "Don't be mad, please.."

    Her hands gripped his shoulders softly before she pushed an effort to stand, wishing to pry away from the intimate tangle of their bodies. Again her words worked on aiding her to slip away from his advances, just as always she worked on changing the topic before she could scurry away. "I need to sleep, I have plans early morning.."
     
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  7. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    He was encouraged when his push had been able to part her. The sight of her panties were like a shock to his own crotch, and it animated it. Even when she told him she was hurting, it felt like it was to entice. Everything she did had an edge. Everything pleased and everything hurt. It was like living in denial, close to release. He thought through his fever fog that it would all be better tonight. He'd have her, and he'd teacher her through the act that he wasn't the good person she thought she housed. There was more to him than some artful clairvoyance into a world that didn't exist.

    His hands became eager, as some things at the beginning of containment, and wouldn't listen to her soothing ones. Her resistance fueled something fanged inside, and it wanted at her. There wasn't much in Roan to oppose, since he was not some water-combed weakling to begin. When she tried to look into him, she'd see the struggling brilliant parts drown in something deeply colored. For a moment he was blind to her question. If there was divinity in her, he felt drawn to it for evil reasons.

    He was somewhat halted by the rise of new animalistic strands when she moved. He followed, shallow air in his throat, and fell to his shoulder along with her when she tried to wrestle for her freedom. A flash of anger from the jolt of the floor. He rolled to lay on top of her. "You're not going to sleep." he said, and it was almost a hiss. He crushed his lips to hers again, and it pushed her scent into his head. He grinded the back of her skull into the floor as his hips pressed down on hers, as though trying to break her bones.

    "I'm not some prince, Iris." a lonely pearl of spittle fell heedlessly from his mouth onto her chin. Roan shook his head and it let loose a disarray of hair from the sloppy knot. His sclera were the only sources of light in his face, like half obstructed moons trying to light a dead night. He held her wrists to the floor. He didn't know he was subduing an angel with his human lust. Better that, because that would have been more enticing. Who doesn't want to violated the pure? Face to her neck, he took more of that bewildering, stupefying scent. He harked out his next breath and rested his forehead under her jaw without letting her go. Why was he so afflicted by her?

    "Say it." he said into her ear. It was both the wail of a dying good man and the birth of a beast. "Just say you're afraid of me, or that you'd rather I take what I want. Just admit that I'm not some pure little boy. And maybe you like that." he demanded through teeth. "Save us from your naivety." he urged, hand somehow finding her throat.
     
  8. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    A wave of black fell across the floor, her long hair undone from it's perfectly kept bun while his movements shoved her down. Barely a word escaped before her mouth was captured, forced into the kiss that raced her pulse for many reasons. The feel of Roan's body ached and bruised her own, and with her hands pressed with his own she could only move and kick her legs in protest. They remained careful however, moving around his form in such a way that didn't wish to harm him in her struggle.

    The taste of his tongue flooded her even after his lips left, allowing for heavy breaths to rise as her wide eyes held contact with his gaze. His words worked in trying to change her mind, tearing himself away from the light that she had seen. Pure? Iris didn't see the purity, it was the darkness that she witnessed within his work and being. Something that rooted her place beside him while her own demons hid, he was the closest that she had seen a human come so close to the truth. To her truth.

    But she did see Roan's gentle nature on good days, times where he widened her smile and made her laugh in ways she didn't know she could. "I can't be afraid of you," Voice only that of a whisper meant for him to hear, her head tilting upward only his fingers brushed across her throat. A look of confusion took it's place where fear should have been, while hurt crossed the dark ocean of her gaze, "Are you really going to harm me, Roan?"

    With the lowering hand having loosened the hold on her wrists, Iris quickly took the chance to release an arm in a sharp tug. Her fingers wrapped from the wrist that had began to threaten her, while her expression remained fearless. It was natural to not be afraid of getting hurt, but the fighter within urged for her to react somehow.
     
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  9. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    So trusting. It sounded almost like fact, her reassurance, and not bravery. It made him feel hopeless. Here he was, a cauldron of all the vile things his real mind could cook up, and she didn't think anything of it. It almost seemed she was without a chance in this, and that she invited it. She read what he wrote, and looked at the large canvasses it was echoed on, but what if she didn't see him, and she didn't, no one would. It should have made him sullen, but it made him mad. Roan looked at her hand around his, where he had a grip on her throat. Her pretty throat.

    A myriad of images of different dismays for her played behind his eyes. They were all delicious, satisfying. "I don't know." he breathed. But he wanted to. It is part of the man, always, to express harm onto the world. She'd be so glorious, wouldn't she, his calm Iris who lived like a benign ghost with him in her house. What if she finally moved unruly, and showed him a part of her that had great emotion? He shook his head at the ill intent that crawled out of every crevice he'd stuffed it. She wouldn't misunderstand him then, in that transference of truth.

    He kissed her again, deeply, rough, like it was vengeance, and then sat up, letting go of her and tossing his head to the side. "No, I guess." he muttered, disappointed - whether it be in himself or to have lost the chance to be so passionate about such a primal impulse - he didn't leave in the air. The thin skin on her neck had given him her heartbeats flawlessly. He tried not to think about it. He'd already chosen not to do something so indulgent and rash. He was in a foul mood again, and stood up without looking at her. He'd put her there, which was unfair.

    He stroked his arm and pulled the tie out of his hair to run his hands through it a few times. A wild, pretty halo, almost too short to be held back, but long enough to be dramatic and to one side now. He sighed and turned away from her, rolling the band onto his wrist before shoving hands into his pockets. Roan found his room and settled his anger into brood finally. Sitting on the floor with the edge of his bed as support for his back, he hung his forearms on his knees. Hands floated like pretty rags. It was a familiar conflict, but it had been a good evening. He bent his head back to rest it on the bed.

    Closing his eyes he saw some slivers of his usual inspiration, and made up stories to come with them. They felt like contemporary relationships, with their rending and their betrayal. Real heaven beside the sacrilegious heights men would take their emotions to. Roan laughed with his outstretched throat. He licked his lips and listened to the blood in his ears. His shoulders shook slightly. Why had be always been these two things? He missed suppressing himself in chemicals. He missed getting to purge into other bodies, and hear them moan gratefully.
     
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  10. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    A sensible woman would have shoved at him the moment his grip had grown loose, demanding him out of her home which he had brought such feelings of dismay in. She would have ran to her room, locking the door before shuddering out cries while calling anyone who could comfort her. That would have been the common thing to do, the common reaction of a human.

    Iris instead remained upon the floor, relaxing her breaths as he stood and diverted his eyes from her. The rough kiss swelled her soft lips, and for a second she almost considered calling him to return to her. Was this natural? To watch the man who had overpowered her with the desire to ravage her body, and still hold the admiration she had grown for him? It could have been a maddening thought, but she blamed the bond they had grown together. At least, she believed there was some form of connection. Angels were emotional creatures, she hid hers well. Instead of wearing her heart on the outside she kept it in, and it didn't fail to call out for him.

    It wasn't until he retreated into his room that she stood, shaky on the heels she had chosen for the night. Her legs stumbled into her own room where she proceeded to undress, focused on seeking comfort in her bed clothes that would soothe where the tight material had constricted. Roan never left her mind, and his scent followed her wherever she went. An over sized shirt pulled down and covered her eyes for a moment, and in the darkness of her sight she could still see his face as he hovered so close to her. Taking in a deep breath, the woman drew her gaze to the bed that he had aimed in getting in to. The neatly flattened ruby sheets became a ruffle of fabric in her mind, as she envisioned what would have been if she gave in.

    Time seemed to pass in painfully slow minutes as Iris finished changing and left the silence of her room, the kitchen being her first stop to grab a glass of water. She assumed he expected her to seek him out after everything, after making it clear once that she couldn't sleep with tension in her home. Even if he ignored her she would feel slightly better, knowing that he understood her willingness to keep him by her side. Even so, her steps made sure to pause at door which remained ajar. One hand lifted to lightly knock on the frame, hoping to gain his attention and any words for her to come in.

    Condensation dripped from the cold glass in her other hand, trickling thin trails down her exposed sun kissed legs. The nightshirt was long enough to cover like a short dress, in truth she would have preferred to wear nothing when she slept. "Roan?" Her tone kept soft, almost pleading to allow her in, "I'm going to sleep, I.. though you'd want some water?"
     
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  11. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Roan listened to her move about for as long as he could. Eventually he heard the tell-tale sounds of her disappearing into her room. He'd been in there many times - innocent, leading, unbearably suggestive. There hadn't been this kind of divide between himself and other women. He hadn't really cared about what they thought. There had only been an exchange of whatever comfort either body held. And equal abandon, and a tandem disinterest.

    Here, it was different. He went away to try and find those flighty nights again. Iris had never been a stickler about curfews. Artists must have roam. And though he put money in her hand as often as a pieces of his were bought, it felt as though he was paying rent with his continued submersion in whoever he was when he produced things. He licked a finger and pushed his palm into his forehead, endeavoring to break his neck by bending his head into the bedding. It was childish, but the pain from the strain was enough to make him shake until he stopped. He did so with a sigh.

    He didn't know how much time had passed putting his stray wondering onto the ceiling when she started gliding through the house again. His head rolled to the side. It was good company, her footfalls and the kitchen alarms. He suppose he'd learned to love and hate the small things about another person from exposure. It made him miss drug-addled outings with nothing to catch you but your next chemical filter. He was still looking at the spring of the door when she placed herself there.

    The room that opened to her was spacious. She'd insisted he have a good studio to work in, and he'd tried to make the excess of surfaces more intimate. He didn't need light, he didn't want echoes. He didn't paint or sing. He needed his thoughts and they escaped him if he let them space to roam. He'd told her after taking the room. It was something they laughed about on occasion. Roan sat up on the floor when he saw her. He'd counted the steps of her coming.

    "You read my mind." but she couldn't. It was their foremost problem. He didn't dwell on it. Roan stood up, hair still a cloud to one side, that wind-touched careless around his handsome, and walked over to her. It was a fucking trap, that outfit with just enough homely pull and more than his recommended amount of next-door allure. He took the glass and had a mouthful. He appreciated the flimsy excuse to see him. His shoulder rested against the wall close to the door when his hand held the glass to her cheek.

    "Are we having a sleepover in my room?" he asked, meaning her clothes, as though she wasn't always dressed like this at this time. He took the glass back and held the same place to his own cheekbone. Instead his other hand came out to touch the low of her chin. He supposed he pulled a little at her, to get her inside the threshold, even though he didn't really know what to do with her if she came along. He went deeper inside, anyway.

    "You can look at me the wrong way and I can blow it out of proportion." he said with a grin as he took steps backward. It was good therapy to make fun.
     
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  12. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    She was thankful to see his temper lowered, yet at the same time it beckoned her to stay longer than reason allowed. The room she had given him was a place she ventured for company, to speak with Roan into the night as the hours passed slowly. It was those long nights combined with his presence that captivated her, and she couldn't help but to imagine what that night would bring if she were to remain.

    The glass chilled her cheek, but she welcomed the sensation as it aided in calming any blush that would have grown. While the makeshift nightdress was probably not the best choice of clothing after what occurred in the hallway, Iris couldn't help but to take in the attention it created. She was beginning to crave it slowly, the feeling of his lips on hers had etched itself upon her in such a way that she couldn't ignore it. True she wanted to keep from offering herself so quickly, but he was burning holes into her mind while she attempted to keep herself stable.

    A shiver laced her skin to the touch of his hand, making it nearly impossible for her to feel the pull of it. Had it been any other guy she would have stepped back, had not even been standing there, but this was Roan. Someone that she felt connected to in ways he was unaware, and trapped her so easily as if she were prey in her own home. His beckoning had worked, and her hand reached out to grab his before it could fully fall away.

    "I've noticed," Her smirk returned, playful as usual while trying to ignore the scent of his room. The steps he took brought her further in, and she continued until close enough settled her eyes upon his own. Seconds idled in the air while she watched him, never seeming to be in a rush or hurry to flee back to the comfort of her room. Human lives were so short, time never gave enough for them to latch on to the hours that would only become memories. She made sure to grasp every moment, disconnected from such a fast paced world.

    "Why do you want me to be afraid of you?" The teasing expression faded, once more showing a canvas that he couldn't read. Iris moved her free hand to cup his cheek before running it along the wave of his hair, attempting to soothe any lingering thoughts, "You try to act monstrous, but you're not."
     
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  13. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    She was affected by him, and it was pleasant to watch her skin awaken under his touch, the same way it had calmed for the glass she'd given him. He drank more as she went along with him, like petals on the lake, moved in the whirl of the koi. Her hand felt like a trophy, like he'd lassoed in something vulnerable and trusting. The play they'd left between them fled when she asked him an always present question. The glass stood on the floor, by some volition, and his eyes darkened. One became obscured by the hair she'd unsettled with her caress. Tilted Cyclops, having brought her to his cave. Why should she be afraid, indeed.

    "Aren't I?" he asked back. From this intimacy it might as well have been a sweet nothing, but the offended wrinkles around his nose, an awakening wolf's face, was not so adoring. This was an old problem that they'd never solved. His hand locked harder onto hers, and the other caught her other before it could leave him, pressing it to his cheek. He tried to have some comfort while he looked at her with displeasure. He was trying to read her in some new way. Maybe to find an anchor as the deep swells in his diaphragm became roaring.

    "Then you're not seeing me." he said, and it was supposed to be a saddened exhale but it became something ground out between teeth. He was becoming the other thing that he was. A fatigue over their drawn out conflict stole some of his resolve to keep her safe from his other faces, and he pushed into her, and locked his arms around her after letting go of her hand. "Isn't all civil things just for the people outside?" he asked, and the issue made him fantastically mad. "It's not for us. I don't feel civil. I don't even feel decent."

    His eye narrowed as he lifted her to set her onto his hips, so he could carry her. With her legs around him, she became unforgivably drawing. He had vengeance and her insides on his mind. He tossed her into bed and it might have felt like passion to her, but he had other hungers too. Roan stood by the edge and then pulled her ankle toward him. Towering spirit of neglected impulses, burning bright, finally. He was being rough, he would be leaving bruises. He laid over her, and the impact might have left her without breath for its force.

    "Maybe I'm this man." he said, looking at his own mind and the flaring thoughts. He took two hands to her collar, and started ripping it. His eyes were saddened and infuriated to see her skin uncovered, like he was parched for her breaths and owed her touch. Out of nowhere and unstoppably, like the lick of water over the dock during turmoil in the sea, his hand rapped over her face. His breath was faster, and what apology lived in his eyes was eaten but dark delight. He breathed, again through incisors. "I can bear it, you know, but I need you to see me." he muttered, hand in her hair to pull her head back, deeper into the bed. "Why can't you just admit that there's badness here, between us?"
     
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  14. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    It was a mistake, the words that left her lips being enough to submit herself into the darkness of his mind. An ache shook through her hand has his grip tightened, but Iris could barely fight to pull away while her gasp jammed in her throat. Her eyes became a sea of emotions, shocked by the change that so rapidly took over the man she trusted. Roan's words were lost after she attempted to grasp them, the sins and inner demons of humans only but a lesson taught by observing. Not falling victim to.

    A yelp broke through the stillness of her lungs once he lifted her, such a lightweight thing that could be tossed around without effort. She winced and pushed at his shoulders, but never did her hands move to strike. Hurting him was not what she desired, it was nearly impossible to purposely inflict any harm to him. There was a tear in her heart when she could almost sense the turmoil of his mind, ravaging her thoughts as the darkness hissed from his mouth.

    "Roan!" Raising her voice with the increase of her shoves, she stopped to cup her palms around his face. It was an attempt to calm him as she peered into his eyes, wishing for him to see the fear that he truly was igniting. But it did little, and Iris was forced down onto the bed that she had allowed for his scent to take over. Dizzying her mind to being thrown onto his place of intimacy, her inhales quickened sharply before a yelp could break out. The skin would bruise easily where he grasped and pulled, giving no chance for her to kick away. During the aggressive demands of his hand her over sized shirt rose, but she paid no mind to hide the design of her underwear as her body was placed in a mode of panic.

    The angel cried out as he wasted no time in pinning her, breaths halted once more as his weight crushed her. She attempted to pushed at his hands, hearing the rip of fabric once they began to attack her pathetic excuse of clothing. Tearing the material would reveal her disapproval to wearing a bra as she slept, but Iris was left stunned and unable to cover her breasts as his hand greeted her cheek with harmful intent. It stung, swelling her flesh and bringing tears to paralyzed eyes. She needed a moment to realize that she was no longer looking up at Roan, but rather staring to the side where her head had snapped to.

    He spoke, and she shuddered. This time fear was brewing, coiling around her heart and calling out for her defenses to rise. This man, this human, struck her. It pooled inside of her as she wept, a weight that heaved her chest down and made it a challenge to breathe. Her eyes turned up at him, but no hate could be seen in the depths of her sapphires. She grimaced at the tug of her hair, and braced her hands against his side as they once more began to push at him. "You don't know what I'm able to see, and what I can't see," Iris gathered her voice, forcing it out with a tremble, "But I don't want to see your fury, is my presence not enough to calm you anymore?" Her face stung with a new wave of tears, but she cried quietly while her hair dampened beneath her.
     
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  15. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    He'd almost laughed, delighted, when she yelped the first time, and danced with her a bit, holding on. It was some kind of malice, awakened by her distress. He'd not felt it before, but he liked it. Some of the girls who shared his powder-lined stupors didn't mind if he hurt them. He'd gotten the taste for that in the dens that considered his money enough. He let her see some of that deviant now, but most of it wasn't an act, anymore, it was just real shards sticking up from his facade.

    His eye were darker still when she tried her strength at his shoulders. A small smile on the lips that would converse with her all night. Like her fight was there to entice him. He felt pangs of anger and want mix in the chest she assaulted so meekly next. She could have become livid, she might have been able to disturb his balance if she tossed herself. She was still treating him like a person, when he was something else. Roan didn't feel validated by her fear. It wasn't enough.

    He rewarded his name off her lips with burying her into the sheets. She looked in awe for a moment, and he was suddenly sure it was because of his scent billowing up from the mattress. How flattering. But it was too late to appeal to his ego. He though her breasts were made to be framed by fabric of her torn clothes. She looked like a gift to marauders. He was already painfully appreciative of her image. The designs on her panties, revealed, was almost too much for him.

    He'd sighed when he slapped her, and she took it beautifully with the turn of her face. She was a buffet of enticing reactions, and while part of him tried to reel himself in from enjoying it, most of him was famished to see her unravel from the gathered, ghost like elegance she usually had. It was a dark pastime, but it gave him such satisfaction. Roan watched her cry with her tits out, and it was the epitome of what he wanted.

    He thought she'd learned, and there was a conversation between his raging, misunderstood creature, and the man that wanted to protect her. But she hadn't seen him. "You never calmed me, Iris." and in that moment he knew it was true. He'd been a speck on his own sea of impulses before, his whims well fed and his veins well filled. It was her imposed goodness that had divided him like this. Roan didn't know why it felt right to hold his hand over her mouth first, but it gave him some bliss. She couldn't say forgiving words to him, or try to tell him he was better than a beast.

    Her panties tore without leaving her hips. What a bad desire, to cup her there while his hand did the same to her upper lips. He didn't want to reduce her to this, but it was beautiful, controlling her body in both ways. His feelings about this were clear in the hill of his pants. He shook his head with his teeth clenched and looked down at her face as the hand stealing her voice slid to her throat instead. "Iris." he said, condolences in his voice as he laid over her to kiss her. But with the affection of his lips came a need. He didn't know what he needed from her, but he couldn't do without it.

    The deeper the kiss grew, the heavier the squeeze became, both his hands joining in trying to hold on to her. He kept repeating her name, sometimes a gargle of wrath, and other times a vibrating longing. He stuck his tongue in a mouth he'd rendered breathless. Her teeth were such an alarming, awakening texture. "I... I'm not good, Iris. I just want you." he said to her gasping lips.
     
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  16. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    The heartbreak was visible as it stretched across her face, etching lines of pain that coupled with the lingering pain of his hand. She had thought that perhaps she had at one point managed to ease the stress of his turmoil, offering herself as his support on nights where his shadows called to her. He smiled with her, talked and shared his thoughts while she nested in comfort beside him. Was he truly hiding all of those times she spent in his reach, holding back a creature that would one day break free? For a moment she appeared shattered, loosing all fight while her wide eyes took in every detail of the mask he bared.

    She shook her head then, pulling herself to speak but her words only met the palm of his hand. The touch made her flinch, as if expecting another sting to race across her face. Forced to breath in through her nose the woman wrapped her fingers with his, attempting to pry them away with the strength that her fragile form could muster. How weak he made her feel, compared to the strengths she once held. Her body shook and squirmed underneath Roan, bringing more fight as her muscles screamed in protest.

    A breath sucked in against his hand, acting on impulse to the simple ruin of the cloth between her thighs. She threw her head to the side and fought to throw him from her, but a human woman of her size could barely budge a man in his state of mind. His hand gripped the exposed area and her body tensed, torn in a mixture of emotions to the feeling of him touching her so intimately against her will. There had been arousal from Roan's kisses and gentle handling, but it had grown to a sensation that she could not define. Time slowed yet her pulse raced, until finally his palm pulled away from her parted lips.

    Unable to fully breath through her nostrils when her lungs demanded for more, Iris gasped in a sharp breath the second she could. Her chest shook to the intake, trapping in the needed oxygen that would aid in calming her panic. "Please.." Her voice was a whisper, ripping with agony as his hand focused on her throat. Closing her eyes she accepted his kiss while her tears continued to trickle downward, and she couldn't pull away as his grip began to squeeze. Tightly, both bands took their vengeance out on her and stole her ability to breath. It crushed her airway and cramped the muscles, and her eyes looked up at him with disbelief.

    He was strangling her, all while chanting her name as if it was a curse. Fearfully her fight escalated, bringing out her nails as they dug into his wrists and tore lines of crimson. She wanted to speak and plead to him, but her voice was lost to the echoes of her choking as a pressure began to steadily build in her chest. Kicking out her legs she aimed to force him off, the instinct to survive left no room to worry about her lost of clothing.
     
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  17. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    Here eyes were magical while his hand forbid her from talking, from saying anything that would let him know they were not on the same frequency. He wanted her to know him, as he was learning her now. She was so alive under his hand, and then she stilled to such a strange confession, when he felt the heat of her split little mound. Confused, both of them, on what to do with this. Her distress spoke to him, and that was at the center of it all, wasn't it?

    How many things had her eyes said before he let go? Her gasp was enrapturing and her desperation for oxygen conjured more hardness to him. He should have been ashamed, but Roan already knew as much about his own body. Could there be some kind of ceasefire between them, if she was the kind of creature he'd seen when he cupped her? Could he would finally try to be with her? Perhaps release was good. Perhaps it could be healing.

    How invalidated he felt then. He was only thinking things that she did, that had infuriated him in the first place. This wasn't something that had built up. He'd tried to expel it into other women, and he'd still been as rotten for it. Where was the time when his flavor of badness was alright, at least to himself? No, he needed to separate himself from the virtuous person she'd stitched onto him. Or he needed to adore her less. He didn't know anything.

    The kiss was sweet, and it soothed his burning mind and chest, but it didn't save her from his grip around her hair. How infinitely delicious, her skin and its little resistance while he hugged her columns of blood and air deeper. She cried, and it was for him, he thought. He kissed her harder when the smarting cuts from her nails sent signals fast up his arms. Was she discovering something now? He pushed his hips down to keep her in place, and to let his manhood pin her mound.

    It was a delectable task, to hold on to her breath for her, and she became so beautiful in her panic. And he was so full of hate for her then, that wanted to become adoration instead. Roan held on as he crawled up her body, until his hips were beyond hers, and he could sit down on her stomach. His own lips were parted, handsome face in some kind of crisis and rapture. The fingers at the back of her neck tested her spine, savoring every texture and flex.

    She was beautiful, and there was something else in her eyes for a while. They were clean but for the struggle, like she could finally see beyond him. He shook her head by the grip he had, and pressed himself harder down on her to keep her contained, so she would feel embraced and surrounded. He licked his lips, and started breathing slower, collecting himself to be with her in that moment, liquefied anguish in his blood, but with this strange catharsis it was becoming clean of all the wrongs her good heart had done to him. He wanted to see more.
     
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  18. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    Human nature dictated that she should run, to claw her way to safety where she would survive. Even if the chances of living were close to none a human would struggle through, reaching out for whatever ledge they could grasp on to. Their bodies were made to endure the pain and fight until they gave out, shock and adrenaline being the gifts to aid in the game to escape Death. They were only mortal, possessing just one life that seemed so short in the eyes of others.

    But Iris was not the fragile being who shared a short lifespan, she was not a human woman who would turn pale when her life was nearing an end. She clawed, kicked, and tore her muscles at the force she tried to throw at him. Only because it was her human reaction to do so, all while her mind knew well what the outcome would be. It was enough to calm her movements, remembering her curse while his form weighed her down. The taste of his kiss never left her mouth, and for a moment she was sure Roan would take her as the bones of his hips painfully stabbed against her. A gasp would have escaped her lips to the force of his bulge against her sex, and she would have questioned if his abuse was thrilling enough to arouse him.

    Instead she stared up at him, eyes wide as they reflected his image. At that moment he was the most important soul in her life, his hands holding her undivided attention. What would his thoughts bring if he learned the truth of what he'd captured? The distress was clear as the pressure only increased, building behind her eyes and rushing blood through her veins while her pulse screamed. Iris widened the part of her lips, wanting to scream at him but only managing a choked rattle. His weight settled on her stomach when he shifted, constricting her further while weakening legs began to lose their fight underneath him.

    She was sure he could snap her neck, with how detailed his touches were along her spine she expected it. The shake of his hands almost proved her suspicions, his powerful grip had no issue in yanking the delicate throat he aimed to crush. Yet she remained there, alive with nails digging and mouth widening in a silent cry. It almost seemed as if she were suffering through the torment rather than fighting for her life, dealing with a painful injury that would eventually heal. Her fear was not quite completely there, and if he had seen the terror in her gaze it would have begun to fade to something less predictable. Acceptance.

    Her eyes dimmed, vision blurring at the edges while peering past his form. Roan's expression distorted with the clouds that diluted her sight, leaving her to a shadowed blanket that pulled over to take her eyes away. Releasing the stabs of her nails she gave his wrists a tight squeeze, similar to that of a mother's short grip that held the soothing promise that everything would be alright. The effort of her fight fled while her body stilled, hands falling away to settle in the chaos of sheets around her as the darkness pulled her under.

    Heart slowing from it's frenzy, she lowered her eyelids before the pull of unconsciousness beckoned her. He granted her an easy way to end her struggle, the loss of breath that was meant to power her body forced her to into sleep at the end. Her brain would follow in the suffering if his determination refused to lessen, oxygen lost while the strength of his hands cracked fragile vertebrae and refused the flow of her blood. Death by strangulation was not the quickest way to die, but still invigorating for someone who wanted to feast on every last second of a closing life.
     
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  19. reverse

    reverse crusher rusher Member

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    He was paralyzed by her beauty, and held on like she might slip away from him otherwise. Her eyes were large for the moment, which was expected, but her motions were collected, as much as they could be. He didn't understand, and that much was visible for her at the slow shake of his head. But mostly there was just the manic reverence of her reaction in this bizarre happening. He breathed slowly, himself - it is stressful to take the air from someone else, after all.

    He couldn't help but play with the buds on her spine. it was irresistible to try them against his guarding fingertips, like she was a buffet of toys for him. She would know his affection, for what it was worth, by how it swelled and pressed between her breasts, where he sat to keep her down. How morbid, the depths of his grip, but it was beautiful too, how her body would accommodate. Intimate, really. He'd never thought he'd get to be this deep into her skin.

    Her nails stung, but they became a bracelet of novelty rather. It was impossible to refuse her this. Her body seemed to want it, or at least that's what his own told him. How could he be addicted when he'd never tasted it before? In the wake of the frustrations that had built this scene, something fantastically dark was fed instead. He'd not felt it before, but now it would always be there, as any sin worth burning for is. His thumbs petted her, deep.

    His lips twitched with the part of hers, and his eyes narrowed with concentration to see the milk spread in hers. He was aghast at what was happening below him, and couldn't tear his attention away, or his grip from her. It was at once the most horrid event, and something fantastic. He felt ravaged by it, run through at every howling nerve. Beautiful Iris, staring at the result of her mistakes. Lovely woman learning who he was, and still denying it with the wide of her eyes. He could not express himself better than now.

    He followed her hands when they relented to usher in a new stage in her conclusion. Roan was filled with lust for her, as she was now, at his mercy and seemingly abandoned to it by herself, too. Her blind eyes were so telling, and her assuring last hold from her hands had been so forgiving. He gasped when her spine let his pressure in. It was such a novelty to crack something so important. Artisan pleasures. He was with her when she left, even though her death wasn't convincing enough, at first.

    Roan held on until the spit on his lips were cold. He was almost afraid to let go, because then she wouldn't be as lovely as she was now, a monument to him. His manhood was still engaged, impossibly oppressed in the pants he'd chosen for their night out. Roan swallowed when he released her, and then when nothing happened, he fit his fingers back into the indentations he'd made. He pressed his hips down deeper against her unmoving body. She'd become the most beautiful object he'd seen.
     
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  20. Razzy

    Razzy hearts at war Member

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    Dying was always so hard, agonizing and enough to be the only reason why Iris would be terrified of it. She may have been different, far from what he had expected, but it didn't mean she was saved from pain. The curse of her mortal body brought sensitivity to her nerves, like a newborn grown into a woman within her first day of life. Everything was fresh, new, breathing in life and holding a health that was stronger than any woman her age. They lived their years and broke down their bodies, she was still growing accustomed to it.

    Knowing of the sleep that would soon come, she accepted it easily over being beaten or worse. Strata's grip had been agonizing enough, but it didn't compare to the pain it brought to watching his eyes as he hovered over her. Lustful at the scene, entranced as if under a spell. Was her death really so wonderful to watch, as her face swelled with despair and body twitched with it's final moments of struggle? Sad enough she still hoped that he would release her, to laugh and carry sweet words into her ears. But he didn't, instead he watched as her vision faded to black and her senses tore away.

    She was gone before the crack echoed from her crushed throat, muscles falling limp as her limbs splayed out across the bed. Arms draped at her sides and long hair spanning into a black web underneath, Iris looked just as peaceful as anyone sleeping. No sounds nor movements hinted to any signs of life as she became the corpse that Roan created so easily, bruised and dented by the hands she longed to hold in hers.

    Though her body had died, Death failed to trail his shadows towards towards her. Instead the darkness took her, clouding her mind while she remained blind to the truth of what happened. The damage down was thankfully minimal yet time would still be needed, a short while until a new level of torture would rupture through her. Another reason for her fear, and her fight.
     
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