vatheon | [ ♑ ] it was inevitable

who: grand highblood + summoner
when: 9/26 evening
where: their usual forest playground
style: prose
status: closed

The first message had been a tease, and the Grand Highblood hates being teased. But as much as he hates being poked fun of, he's no fool to go off on a rampage trying to find the ones who dare poketh their stick into the lion's cage. That just comes off as way too desperate, especially if he did manage to find the Summoner who would've likely been in no mood to indulge his bloodlust. Though there's also a 50/50 chance that he would've indulged him, which only infuriates the highblood more, being way too used to being The Most Fickle One of them all.

The second one was the message he had been waiting for. Finally.

He takes all the shortcuts from the cave and into their usual forest area, finding no reason to prolong such an anticipated meeting (and of course having very little else to do), and finds himself standing in a large clearing. The trees, rocks, even the ground itself shows wear and tear from their previous clashes, and the forest itself along with its wildlife seems to sigh heavily at his presence.

Then he cranes his neck up, and a wide grin slowly stretches across his face. The winged troll is perched high up on a tree, staring down back at him.

"Still in the motherfucking mood?" He wanders close to the tree, stretching out an arm to brush his hand against the bark. His fingers wrap tightly around the trunk as much as his hands will allow and shakes the tree viciously.

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When those claws dig in, he snaps out of his slight daze, hands jerking at the body parts that he's holding onto. He tugs hard on the horn, almost pulling his head off the ground, and his claws dig into the leg, leaving short but deep gashes. He wheezes, more claws around his neck, but wears a wide grin on his face.

He answers anyway. "There's always a motherfucking TIME AND PLACE for a good conversation," he says almost amiably with a chuckle. "Usually find your motherfucking gums all up and flappin' when you've got something between your motherfucking legs?"

This time he doesn't thrust his hips forward, just letting his weight lay naturally down on him. For now, anyway.

Another gasp, his head starting to pound a little from all the rough housing going on with his horn. The grip on his leg only adds to the pain, causing his torso to curl a bit more, the wound on his side to sting worse, more blood staining his shirt.

"Something between my legs-?" A questioning glance before he looks down.

"Uh, like what? Currently it's a little void there, if you, uh, know what I mean." A small chuckle, looking back up. "But before any of that, if that, might I suggest we flip this 180 style before your weight crushes me to death? I think dying might ruin this for me."

The highblood lets out a huff through his nose, growling at the suggestion. He wars with himself for a second, deciding whether it'd be in his best interest to have this shitblood on top of him or not. But at this point, whether Summoner is below him or not, it really makes no difference. He would find a way to make things difficult regardless, aside from the fact that maybe, yes, he COULD crush him in this position. And the highblood would gain little from it. Crushing things to death without meaning to is possibly the lamest thing.

"Ruin it for you, but maybe make it motherfucking better for me," he snickers, despite his reluctant actions to move off of him. "I sure had no motherfucking complaints about it before." A suggestive tone, strongly hinting at when Summoner had died and he had taken custody of the body.

You-

"I, really don't-" Know what to say about that... Give him a second.

"Wh-wh-what the flying fuck!?" Okay yeah, shoving hard now. Kicking that wound if he can and getting his claws into you as much as fucking possible. Hopefully all the anger covers up the fact that his face is bright orange.

Because seriously, what even!?

That sends the highblood in a motherfucking rib-aching laugh, his grip suddenly tightening again as the Summoner struggles to injure him some more. Yeah, like the numbness isn't already settling in as it is, whatever. The biting pain from claws and kicks to his side only makes him throw back his head, chuckle lowly, groan from pain shooting up his side.

"SURPRISED, MOTHERFUCKER?"

And with a strong pull, he lifts the Summoner off the ground as he pulls himself off into a seated position, dragging the body with flailing limbs into his lap. His hips thrust up as his hands push the Summoner's body down, energy renewed by such an explosive reaction, and if Summoner isn't flailing too hard to notice he could feel something move inside those ridiculous pants. Don't think he doesn't see the flush on your face. This highblood notices everything.

The knife's even back and he's tempted to shove it into the bastard's neck, but damn he doesn't want him dead. He could probably get it in there nice and deep too. Summoner clenches his fangs, clicking his tongue on the back of his teeth as he presses the blade to the Highblood's neck hard but doesn't puncture too much, doesn't pulling his hand to cut.

"What the Sufferer!?" He thought, maybe something, since well, he knows the Highblood had his corpse for a while, but it's a different thing entirely to hear it. His stomach is churning and his mind's going to a rather terrible place despite him fighting against thinking about it all together. But that black tar that pumps through the veins of their relationship just rushes faster as he bites and shreds.

Damnit, moving again, but at least he can breathe a bit bette-

"Ahh- haa-" His eyes flutter, feeling a chill slide down his body as soon as he's being forced against the Highblood's hips. Summoner's hands quickly move to grab the indigo's forearms tight, the blade between his palm and the guards of the Highblood's arms. Hard to think of anything else besides how that feels and he breathes deep, pushing back a bit, trying to sink his claws into skin deep.

What was it about the thing that was stressing him out earlier? The thing with the person with the drama and the- Welp, looks like he successfully managed to busy his mind with something else.

"Ah-" His head droops down a bit, glaring with low lids up to him, wings shaking and teeth bared.

"You're f-fucking crazy-"

Bringing the knife is a nice added touch and heh, he does appreciate all this effort the Summoner puts into this. It's real motherfucking nice and considerate, really. He hisses at the cool thin sensation at his neck, but it doesn't deter him from his task.

He snarls instinctively at the usage of the Sufferer's name, but he lets it simmer into his blood, let that feeling absorb in through his skin.

"Nnyeah-" Hips continue to undulate, slowly but with a good amount of force. Hands now off his horns and leg, just wrapped around his waist and hips, hands large enough to go around that slim body. Nails scrape against soft skin, taking care not to scratch the wings, just pushing him down in rhythm.

"But we already motherfucking know you got the motherfucking darkest bloodlust for some crazy," he mutters, his hand slowly moving towards his own pants, fingering the waistband. "It's all up and scratched into your motherfucking face, burned into your disgusting flesh-" Then moves his head forward, teeth bared, to sink those chompers into Summoner's lower lip.

Hey, Summoner's got style, though it's a little hard to tap into right now with that mix of freaked out, angry, and aroused, granted, those three things probably work as style for the Highblood. As for that name? Despite it being the name of the individual causing him some anguish, Summoner doesn't think of him when he says it. It's a curse, fairly common for him and his men, it just falls from his lips naturally.

And now he's fallen into the pace of this, pushing up against him as those wider hips from forward, making his own arousal grind and churn in the pit of his stomach.

"Y-yeah-" He says distantly, lifting his head a little, his voice hushed, a growl in his throat. Summoner breathes deep, mentally preparing himself, glancing down the to playful fingers at a waistband before staring back up at him. His nose wrinkles a bit, that smell of death leaking from between the Highblood's fangs only pissed him off more.

"Just shut the hell up-" The taste of blood fills his mouth from the pain on his lip, but the comment still slides out with ease before he pushes forward, kissing him and snarling his fangs into his lips.

With their anger and hatred set onto solid ground, the highblood feels his arousal ramp up dangerously. It's been such a long time since he felt such a hatred and longing all at the same time, and he has to admit that he missed it.

His fingers slide into his pants, more than prepared to pull them down at any given time. They seem to be fondling between his legs, though it's hard to tell with how he moves his hips up. His claws bend slightly in anticipation, scratching his back just a little, shivering at the give of skin beneath his claws.

"Heh-" Is pretty much all he can get out as their mouths and teeth mash against each other, their blood flowing and mingling, bloodying lips and chin. He breathes in heavily through his nose, impatient snarls and growls reverberating deep within his throat, and his free hand busily tugs down the front of Summoner's pants.

Final-motherfucking-ly.

[ ♑ ] it was inevitable

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