(no subject)
Lips painted an obsecene shade of red opened wide as the elegant looking man bowed one arm swept in front of him as his head tilted towards the audience. The rush of applause was phenomenal and gave Victor a flush of excitement. It was, of course, always a pleasure to be able to please so many people by only doing what came naturally. The lines that had rolled from those bright lips hadn't been his, but he'd learned them and pumped so much emotion into his actions that they'd been easily swayed.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." Once more he dipped, and when he came up turned on heel and strode confidently off the stage. Off stage, where his personality and demeaner became that of a scoundral. Someone full of himself, sure he could beat the most impossible odds without even a seconds thought.
Waving off the pesky producers and other actors, he slid off into the background people pulling off the large powdered wig and tossing it off to the side as he pulled the sleeve of his royal purple costume up and smeared the paint from his lips. The rouge was still bright on his cheeks, but he was going to leave it for now.
Sliding from the back of the theater he pulled off the heavy royal seeming costume leaving him in the leggings and trousers with a ruffled type of shirt one might see poets wearing. Tossing the jacket to the side he strode down the alley, grimancing at the disgusting scum that littered the streets and dared to even be on the same pavement he strode on. Deciding it was best to completely ignore their existance he moved on coming upon one of his favorite places and pass times. The local tavern. Pushing himself inside a broad toothy grin pulled at his lips as he quickly made himself at home.
In near to no time there was a wench on his lap and a cup of good strong ale in his hand. The woman, Bethany, spoke of nonsense and he only agreed and laughed at her attempting to appease her odd fantasies of ever becoming an actor. When, finally, she wondered off his leaned back relieved to be rid of that cow. Snorting he shook his head, taking a swig of his drink before surveying his surroundings. They'd faded into background while his wits had danced with the annoyance of how to be rid of the wench.
A head full of ringlets caught his attention, the ebony locks the complete opposite of his lengthy blonde main. A woman eyes bright and bosom bouncing was giggling as if she'd heard the funniest joke to be told, and when she did Victor continued to study the woman. Her shape was that of an hourglass, the hips to bear children and the breasts to feed them, even if she was a tad more on the pale side. Like the milk of a cow, yes, that was the creamy color of her skin. Rising, he made his way to her side entranced by the vibrant blue eyes that seemed to draw his soul into them.
"My lady, may I have a word?" He spoke, raising a slim brow in question as he offered his hand. The giggling halted, and the head tilted sending the ringlets moving in adorable directions. A slight nod indicated her willingness as well as the gloved velvet hand she slid into his as she rose. The dress she wore was just as dark as her hair, eccentuating her curves and pushing that lucious bosom to it's fullest. Leading her off to the side, he smiled. "Might I know the name of the lovely creature I have the pleasure of seeing?" Of course, he thought, he'd easily woo her into sleeping with him. There wasn't a woman alive that could resist his charms.
"Mary, good Sir." The voice poured from those lips like silk, wrapping around him like a gentle blanket as he soaked up every single syllable.
"Would you...?" He said, tilting his head to indicate his mug of ale.
"Victor..." the name was breathed against the skin of his neck sending shivers down his nude body his fingers digging into the bountifull and firm flesh of her hips grinding her against him as he grunted in pleasure.
Fingernails dug into his chest, but that was hardly relevant as the pair lay on the bed of his home. Elegant, clean, and they'd stripped each other of the clothing they'd been wearing. Her body was warming, he thought, and as he continued his motions he felt his pleasure heighten, continue. Climax, sweet release. Punctuated with an odd feeling of pain in his neck that mingled into the ectasy of her body. "...drink." The word was demanding, he'd closed his eyes to enjoy the wordless pleasures of the fairer sex and now something warm but liquid was pressed against his lips. Licking it, he tasted the metallic of something familar. Eyes still closed, mind in a distant place he frowned shaking his head slightly as if to clear the fog from it.
"Drink." The word wasn't wraught with silk, no, it was cold as iron and demanded his instant obedeiance. Shivering, he pressed his lips and began to suck, the liquid in his mouth burning like watery fire as it oozed its way down his throat and into his gut. When the soft flesh against his lips left, he let out a small groan.
Burning. It burnt, so bad, he could feel it in his stomach but now it was worse. A throbbing was in his neck, and the pounding of his heart was thumping like a loud drum against the inside of his skull as he attempted to think beyond it. Fire, spreading through his body now. Inside of veins. Twisting the pounding of his heart slowed, and as he writhed on the bed a scream clawed its way from his clenched jaw and into the room as he curled up around himself.
The agony continued, for a moment, and then his heart stopped and the fire reached every single pore of his wonderfull body. For a moment, he saw, his life flash before him. Every whore, play, audience member flowed into his vision and then out. When it was done, he felt alive again but he could hear no heart beat and the fire in his veins was gone. Instead his eyes slowly fluttered open only to see that Goddess of a woman standing off to the side in the moonlight, studying him.
"Painful, isn't it?" She prompted, and when he saw her lips his eyes widened a bit. Blood decorated her face, like she'd been a gleefull child in a goddamned candy store.
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." Once more he dipped, and when he came up turned on heel and strode confidently off the stage. Off stage, where his personality and demeaner became that of a scoundral. Someone full of himself, sure he could beat the most impossible odds without even a seconds thought.
Waving off the pesky producers and other actors, he slid off into the background people pulling off the large powdered wig and tossing it off to the side as he pulled the sleeve of his royal purple costume up and smeared the paint from his lips. The rouge was still bright on his cheeks, but he was going to leave it for now.
Sliding from the back of the theater he pulled off the heavy royal seeming costume leaving him in the leggings and trousers with a ruffled type of shirt one might see poets wearing. Tossing the jacket to the side he strode down the alley, grimancing at the disgusting scum that littered the streets and dared to even be on the same pavement he strode on. Deciding it was best to completely ignore their existance he moved on coming upon one of his favorite places and pass times. The local tavern. Pushing himself inside a broad toothy grin pulled at his lips as he quickly made himself at home.
In near to no time there was a wench on his lap and a cup of good strong ale in his hand. The woman, Bethany, spoke of nonsense and he only agreed and laughed at her attempting to appease her odd fantasies of ever becoming an actor. When, finally, she wondered off his leaned back relieved to be rid of that cow. Snorting he shook his head, taking a swig of his drink before surveying his surroundings. They'd faded into background while his wits had danced with the annoyance of how to be rid of the wench.
A head full of ringlets caught his attention, the ebony locks the complete opposite of his lengthy blonde main. A woman eyes bright and bosom bouncing was giggling as if she'd heard the funniest joke to be told, and when she did Victor continued to study the woman. Her shape was that of an hourglass, the hips to bear children and the breasts to feed them, even if she was a tad more on the pale side. Like the milk of a cow, yes, that was the creamy color of her skin. Rising, he made his way to her side entranced by the vibrant blue eyes that seemed to draw his soul into them.
"My lady, may I have a word?" He spoke, raising a slim brow in question as he offered his hand. The giggling halted, and the head tilted sending the ringlets moving in adorable directions. A slight nod indicated her willingness as well as the gloved velvet hand she slid into his as she rose. The dress she wore was just as dark as her hair, eccentuating her curves and pushing that lucious bosom to it's fullest. Leading her off to the side, he smiled. "Might I know the name of the lovely creature I have the pleasure of seeing?" Of course, he thought, he'd easily woo her into sleeping with him. There wasn't a woman alive that could resist his charms.
"Mary, good Sir." The voice poured from those lips like silk, wrapping around him like a gentle blanket as he soaked up every single syllable.
"Would you...?" He said, tilting his head to indicate his mug of ale.
"Victor..." the name was breathed against the skin of his neck sending shivers down his nude body his fingers digging into the bountifull and firm flesh of her hips grinding her against him as he grunted in pleasure.
Fingernails dug into his chest, but that was hardly relevant as the pair lay on the bed of his home. Elegant, clean, and they'd stripped each other of the clothing they'd been wearing. Her body was warming, he thought, and as he continued his motions he felt his pleasure heighten, continue. Climax, sweet release. Punctuated with an odd feeling of pain in his neck that mingled into the ectasy of her body. "...drink." The word was demanding, he'd closed his eyes to enjoy the wordless pleasures of the fairer sex and now something warm but liquid was pressed against his lips. Licking it, he tasted the metallic of something familar. Eyes still closed, mind in a distant place he frowned shaking his head slightly as if to clear the fog from it.
"Drink." The word wasn't wraught with silk, no, it was cold as iron and demanded his instant obedeiance. Shivering, he pressed his lips and began to suck, the liquid in his mouth burning like watery fire as it oozed its way down his throat and into his gut. When the soft flesh against his lips left, he let out a small groan.
Burning. It burnt, so bad, he could feel it in his stomach but now it was worse. A throbbing was in his neck, and the pounding of his heart was thumping like a loud drum against the inside of his skull as he attempted to think beyond it. Fire, spreading through his body now. Inside of veins. Twisting the pounding of his heart slowed, and as he writhed on the bed a scream clawed its way from his clenched jaw and into the room as he curled up around himself.
The agony continued, for a moment, and then his heart stopped and the fire reached every single pore of his wonderfull body. For a moment, he saw, his life flash before him. Every whore, play, audience member flowed into his vision and then out. When it was done, he felt alive again but he could hear no heart beat and the fire in his veins was gone. Instead his eyes slowly fluttered open only to see that Goddess of a woman standing off to the side in the moonlight, studying him.
"Painful, isn't it?" She prompted, and when he saw her lips his eyes widened a bit. Blood decorated her face, like she'd been a gleefull child in a goddamned candy store.