Finished Playing Games

Bringer of Death · Effing God Moder

Finished Playing Games

Baroness DuMorne · Demonic Nobility

As far as wake-up calls went Rowan preferred her's to be private. Something Varrick clearly knew nothing about. Not that she expected him to. Her bedroom habits weren't exactly public knowledge.

The tug from the bracelet had the Djavo up and very much awake in less than a second. A new record, but when you wake up thanks to a big, white skinned creature somehow the brain always knew when to kick into high gear.

Looking up, Rowan sighed like the annoyed woman she very much was and stared up at Varrick. He looked...different. The white skin and the white hair were an interesting look to say the least. And if she hadn't already gotten her sticky little fingers on the photo and the negative already, the new look might have even shocked her. Instead she felt positively delighted that he had finally stopped putting on that silly mask of his and set the cards out on the table. It made the game so much more fun.

"Well...I am awake Sir Goodwind. Shall we get on with the deed or would you like a bit of foreplay first?"

A coy smile curled her lips upwards as Rowan flung the sheets aside to reveal that she slept in the nude. Shocking. With Varrick looking on, Rowan yawned, stretching languidly in her bed before actually getting up and slipping on a robe, the silk whispering against her skin as she stared at the man's pale eyes.

"No? Very well...I suppose you're here to scold me about Fortune?"

Her voice sounded bored, yet her eyes sparkled like twin stars or something or other. Romantic metaphors were best left for the time of day when people weren't woken from sound sleep. With her arms crossed across her chest, Rowan regarded Varrick with a bored, yet somewhat bemused expression. What ever got his goat enough for him to stop playing pretend human and invade her home, had to be something big. Er go. Fun.

Bringer of Death · Effing God Moder

No reaction was shown as she threw back the covers to reveal her nudity. He merely watched as she stretch, and then finally stood to put on some attire. A scowl crossed his features when she mentioned Fortune, and he was in front of her in a flash, almost as if he had teleported, just as she was capable of doing. Maybe he had done so.

Varrick wrapped his pale fingers about her neck, pushing her up against the wall, leaning close as he spoke. His tone was low, and full of warning.

"There will be no foreplay, nor deed to be done. And you will leave Fortune very much alone, or I will hunt you down and flay you alive, throwing salt on your bare muscles as I do so." The tone was almost seductive with the growl of warning that went with it. He'd found that he had come to rather adore the Human pixie, and it was a fact that disturbed and yet delighted him. She was a precious being, very frail and easily broken by the monsters that roamed around her.

Golden hues, alight with emotion, settled on Rowan's own lightly colored hues. There was promise there, in his gaze, and that feral smile crossed his lips. If he were a lesser Fae of grace, he could very well take advantage of the situation before him. The abomination before him was quite beautiful, even through the darkness that surrounded her. And it would be quite easy to do with her as he pleased before taking his book and his leave. He could smell the attraction in the air, and it was a mutual lust, but he was here for the Book. Those thoughts raced through his mind as his thumb slowly began circles on that bit of flesh just below her jawline, his grip loosening a bit. He was still very much in control.

"Now my dear Baroness," he started, his face still just inches from her own as he looked down upon her. "You have something that I want." As he spoke those words he lowered his gaze between them, reaching up with his other hand to brush at a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. After that long moment, he raked his gaze upwards to her face once more.

"Where is my Book?" He demanded in a congenial, lover's tone.

Baroness DuMorne · Demonic Nobility

Rowan laughed. She couldn't help herself. The chaos in the room and the waves of hostility that radiated from Varrick like heat from the Sun, made the Baroness writhe in pure pleasure on the inside. No foreplay? Did he even know what he was doing to her by just being there? The energy alone was enough to make her want to close her eyes and ride out the sensation to its conclusion but no... He had to keep talking. Calming herself down, Rowan managed to get the laughter under control, at least for the moment, and just stared at him with her blue eyes as wide as saucers.

"Threats again Varrick? Didn't we have this talk already?"

Slowly the expression on her face changed. The wide eyed look of a scared woman slipped away to be replaced with a grin as wicked as his own. Threats. Granted the idea of dying held a hint of fear, but pain and torture at his hand? The Djavo didn't flinch nearly as much as bad as he meant for her too. If that's what he meant. Rowan made it a point to stare at his mouth when he spoke. Licking her lips slowly before she visibly snapped herself out of what ever thoughts that were taking up all of her attention.

"Your Book Varrick? Why what ever do you mean?" Blinking her big eyes at him, Rowan leaned into his hand, pressing her throat into the curve of his hand to the point where he could feel her swallow. She wanted him to feel the words as much as hear them. Men's minds, human or not, tended to wander after all and Rowan wanted all of his attention on her.

"Why don't you make me give it to you instead? Hmm? Oh but if you do that what guarantee will you have that nothing will happen to your little pet?"

Rowan's teeth were nearly as white as Varrick's face when she grinned at him and leaned away just enough so that she wasn't chocking herself with his hand.

"Don't look at me like that Varrick. No harm will come to her as long as no harm comes to me."

Lifting her left hand, Rowan wiggled her fingers which in turn made the diamonds in her bracelet sparkle merrily in greeting to the creature holding its mistress by the throat.

"You want something Varrick. I want something too. Perhaps we can come to an accord." And as she spoke, Rowan reached out with her other hand, fingers tracing the knuckles of the fingers he had wrapped so nicely around her neck.

"Tick tock Varrick. Tick. Tock."

Bringer of Death · Effing God Moder

The Fae said nothing as she spoke, watching the way the expressions flitted across her face, and feeling the way she shifted under his grasp. The part of him that was a very much unsatiated Tuathan male stirred in him as he watched her, but it didn't affect his cunning. He could very well lust after her and still be in the ready to kill her. She mentioned them conversing over such a topic beforehand, and he recalled a similar conversation, though nothing to this extent. At least, not to the depths he was willing to take it at that very moment.

He let her talk, letting nothing show over his face as he listened to her words. He had already revealed too much to her. As she finished, he slowly pressed up against her, letting the chill of his armor press into her flesh. The silk robe she wore did nothing to shield her from the unyielding bite of the bones and blackwood that composed the accoutrement. He knew she would feel both the heat of his skin and the arousal of his flesh as he pressed into her. He reached up with his other hand to capture that wrist that sparkled with his creation.

He leaned into her, his lips just above the flesh of her neck, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin he knew to be just below her ear.

"You know the Book, the one with nothing within its' pages. I could very well make you give it to me, Baroness." The last statement was uttered just above a whisper, and at their proximity, she most likely felt the words in her chest. "How would you like for me to 'force' your hand, hm?" The last word was said with his lips pressed to the junction of her jaw and neck. Such promise was hidden in the depths of his words, to do such dangerously exquisite deeds to the Tiefling before him.

She would know by the tone of his voice and the feel of his body that he was quite willing to take full advantage of the situation, even if they both enjoyed it.