The Haunting: Zeltiva (Matthew)

by **Litani** on July 28th, 2013, 5:15 pm

Have you ever had one of those dreams which, upon waking, you would never in a thousand years admit to?

The kind of dream that lingers in your mind after you wake up, follows you through the day, makes you remember its feelings and its sensations long after its images have started to fade...?

The kind of dream that wanders through your mind years later at unbidden moments, derailing your train of thought and making you gasp for how intense the memory still is, even after all this time...?

Litani was having one of those dreams tonight.

-----

Timestamp: Midnight of the 1st Day of Winter Season, 505

She'd seen him more than once, now.

That first time, in the library? They'd pieced together an odd sort of communion, a curious fashion of conversation that flowed between them, body and words.

And then he'd come to seek her again.

And again.

Each time, they walked closer. Each time, they slid farther apart.

What began as simple academic interest had distilled into the focus of study, had sublimed into the vapor of incorporeal logic. He came to her wanting to learn. He came to her already a harlot, in heart if not in practice. And she? She was nothing but the virgin Konti he'd found to teach him, the unpracticed vessel from which to drink the knowledge of seduction.

They'd taken to meeting in secret. They'd had to. Once the lesson had gone beyond the subtlety of public allure, it had become unseemly for their interactions to be observed by anyone outside their... understanding. And Litani had insisted - she had her reasons and, if he wondered, at least he hadn't asked. He seemed to understand and agreed right away. Anything to get him closer to the knowledge he craved... closer to the knowledge he was demanding.

Whether he knew there were limits or not was something of an unspoken debate. She crossed one line after another with him, let their thirst for experience clash from both sides of the spectrum and find them somewhere in the middle... but this time, this last time, they'd come perilously close to the edge. He'd seen more of her than any other man, but only in slips and purposeful arrangements, only in the ways she'd designed for that day's... study. Arms, one day. Shoulders another. The hands. The face. The legs. But she was quickly running out of ways to teach him without going too far. Without going farther.

Perhaps that was why, after he'd gone tonight, she fell to her bed - unspeakably exhausted and hopelessly restless, both at the same time. He was... getting good. He was getting very good. She'd felt herself so distinctly start to lose control with him that she'd pulled away, breaking professionalism and breaking the touch he had started... sliding along her calf, dancing over the crown of her knee, moving higher to the inside of her thigh. So far, mightily, she'd managed to hold onto that island of calm ice. She'd always sensed that he appreciated that about her. Thirsted for it, in fact. But tonight? Tonight, looking into his eyes, she'd seen the way he lit up when he realized how deeply he was affecting her.

When she'd turned away and asked him to leave, with a whisper, he'd done so gladly. Almost too gladly. And she'd been left within the storm of unabated craving, its winds swirling around that island in her mind.

-----

In the sanctity of a dream, anything can become possible. Reality distorts, feelings shift, people and places change. Our minds drift through scenarios and play out hungers in our own hallowed universe, unique and sacred unto ourselves. So it was that the breathless Konti fell into a passionate dream, the kind of dream that lives with lucid colors and scents and sounds, filling her sleeping mind with the taste of the moment and the all-too-clear reality of the dreamscape.

Tonight, she found herself remembering the past.

-----

The vision of a deliciously handsome young man drifted into her sight, his eyes emerging from over the top of the book she was reading and settling into her mind like so many stars in the sky. She knew he'd be coming to find her - she knew someone would be coming - but she'd no idea it would be him. He was... perfect. She watched him walk closer to her table, drinking in the sight of him and unable to take her eyes away, not even for the sake of propriety. He walked with confidence and steady serenity, fully in control of his body. Everything about him was measured and just so; everything exquisite, everything alive with sexuality. The primal whispers in her mind wondered just how far that control went, and what it would look like for such a pristine creature to lose it.

But instead of saying this, she smiled quietly.

She stood, greeting him, offering her hand as she had done when they had first met, for true. But even as she mouthed the distant words of politeness and custom, her dreamed-flesh was prickling with the sensitive awareness of who he was and what he was. In the dream, she already knew. In the dream, their dance around the subject was unnecessary as memory and subconsciousness twined around each other, fusing one into the next.

In the dream... the walls were ghosts.

by **Matthew** on July 28th, 2013, 7:47 pm

He had simply wanted to learn. He hadn't wanted a haunting. He hadn't wanted the Konti to somehow worm her way into the one thing that terrified him most. He was always in control, merely a man putting on the skin of a seductor and wearing it as if it was natural. He was always in control though, always had been. He had even been in control of her, or at least he had felt like he had. Enough in control to prevent anything dangerous from happening. He was still a man, and with that came the primal desires. He never allowed any of his own, though. He didn't like them.

They terrified him.

Her teachings were almost a dream come true. It could be a purely professional relationship, and he wouldn't have to worry about her body clouding her mind. That was the weakness of everyone. They put so much importance into their emotions, or into the wants of their physical shell. He didn't want to be that. He wanted to be in control.

The dream tonight mocked him, showing him what he could become if he wasn't in control.

There was an island inside of him. From this island, he could see everything. He could see his mind floating in the sea, he could see his body, he could see his heart. He could watch everything on this lonely little island, and with a wave of his hand, he could begin to craft what he needed. He only knew the role of seduction, but perhaps one day, he would find more things to craft. He was eager to meet this teacher that had been suggested to him, though. She would help him refine the seduction even more. From his perch on the island, he saw blue lighting streak through the sky, a sign of excitement. He allowed it. It was appropriate.

Something was surreal. He was alone on the island, but he was watching himself. His body was slowly walking up the Library stairs to meet the Konti somewhere at the top, but he had already met her. They had met the first few times in the library, and then had met elsewhere when she asked it of him. He did not have limits, but understood that they must exist, and therefor had let her build them. He had readily agreed with whatever she asked, as long as it did not cut short the flow of knowledge she was giving him. He had been delighted to see how well it worked, to see that there was a second of true lust in her eyes. But then she had ended it, and for the first time, he had nearly protested. 'Why? It is working! The lessons are working!' he had wanted to proclaim. He hadn't, holding his tongue, respecting her wishes. He had simply nodded and wished her goodnight, and took his leave. Hopefully she would be calm by the next lesson, and they could continue. It was merely flesh his fingers would soon dip into. Couldn't she see that?

Suddenly he was back on the stairs, stepping up them and to the second floor. The library was completely empty, which seemed wrong. But then, there she was, sitting pristinely on her chair. The perfect image of a composed woman, one with wisdom on her soft face, one who had been studying what he wanted to know for many more years than he had. Why was he smiling? This cocky, confident, playful smile. Smirking like he knew what he was capable of.

I will devour her.

The thoughts of a monster flooded his mind for a second, and red fire blazed around the island. He lifted a hand, waving away the flames as easily as he had all the other lessons before. Desire was simply a natural function, easy to dismiss if one realized how simple and primal it was.

The flames did not fade. Matthew paused, blue eyes widening in an actual display of shock. The flames roared back at him, aggressive and demanding, shouting their defiance as they blazed.

I will devour her and she will be remade.

The young man approached her, just as he had before. Watching from somewhere distant, he suddenly realized that he was scared. There was panic in him. What was happening? The young man shook her hand as they had so many nights ago, but there was something different about him. He wasn't standing in that professional and sharp manner that he had been. Instead, there was the grace of a predator. There was the light flexing of his muscles, and the licking of his lower lip. He looked hungry, and his eyes were locked right on those of his prey. It didn't matter that she was older, that she was his teacher, that they were professional and aloof. Everything about the young man confidently stated that it didn't matter a single bit. That every defense she could possibly throw at him would be easily overcome, and then, after the last one was gone, she would be his. It was a foregone conclusion. It was a definite. It was a fact. Fire blazed in his eyes, that very same fire that burned around his island.

Instead of taking a seat across from her, he casually sat down on the edge of the table next to her seat. Careful fingers unwound the scarf from around his neck, and then flicked open the top button of the same exact outfit he had been wearing that first night. It exposed more of his neck and his collarbone, and he casually heard himself mention how hot it was. He screamed at himself from the inside, screamed at her, begging both of them to realize how cliche and horrid that line was. Deep within though, he knew it was a line he would use. It was a line that was purposefully stupid. Purposefully easy to see through. It was a line that was so painfully obvious that it was merely spoken just to make his true intentions that much more clear. You know I am lying. But we are going to play. We are going to pretend like we are a normal teacher and student. Play with me.

The young man was bold with what he was doing. He was unashamed, he was forward, he was hungry, he was eager. His eyes burned with the delight of the hunt, and his tall body leaned forward, arching a bit as it loomed above her own tall frame. Eyes held hers for a moment, then casually roamed down, openly let her know that he was admiring her. Analyzing her. Finding the best way to dissect her down to a level that he had spoken of on that very first night. "I need you to teach me. Litani, was it? I need to be taught something... special. After seeing you... it is only something I think you can teach me."

He moved his hand again, desperately attempting to disperse the flames. This was all wrong. This was not how it had gone. How had it gone?

This wasn't supposed to be how it went. He hadn't come here with this plan in mind. Why was he so bent on taking what was his? No, no, not what was his. Yes, she was his. She would be. She would burn along with him, both of their very souls becoming one in the inferno that they would ignite. She would be nothing without what he would give, when he was through. She would be rebuilt by his fire.

by **Litani** on July 28th, 2013, 10:37 pm

This was a far cry from the distantly caged young man she'd met those weeks before. This was a distant, primal shadow of the masculine beauty that had infected her, slithering through her thoughts as she taught him, learned from him, felt him and fought off the need for him. Those cold, icy islands they clung to? Those were somewhere else right now.

Instead of taking her hand as she stood and offered it, he came closer to her and sat beside her, perched at the edge of the table. Instead of a handshake, his fingers gave her the revelation of a button loosed. Instead of a greeting, his body told her exactly what he wanted before she'd even so much as touched him; were this reality, did she not know who he was somehow, she'd've laughed uncomfortably and walked out, and only later thought about how disturbingly attractive she'd found him. She'd reflect on how handsome he'd been, how sure of himself, and she'd've questioned how reasonable it was to let such a creature get to her.

This wasn't reality. This was her dream, her subconsciousness fueled by the tension they'd constructed between them thus far, breathing sensuality in the real world and soaking it into their senses. This was where she had exactly no reason to hold back from her truest desires. And yet somehow... she was not alone.

She stood beside him in this, their shared hallucination. Her eyes flicked down to his fingers as he murmured something about being warm; she watched him pull off that scarf and go one step towards removing the shelter that covered him from her eyes. When he stopped there, her eyes returned to his and she smiled as if by reflex; suddenly, there was a pause and she tilted her head in thoughtfulness, measuring him as thoroughly as she'd been done by him, taking him into her mind even if they'd yet to touch. The left edge of her lips curved up into a smirk and the blood behind it warmed, leaping into her thoughts with images of just what she could do to him if he let her... if she let herself.

Somehow, this was not the place for holding back and dancing away from what she knew they both wanted. And yet, instinct was hard to bury - she shifted her weight onto her back foot, not stepping away from him but edging back the faintest bit, looking him over as if trying to decide just exactly what to do with him. Unconsciously, she darted her tongue against the edge of her teeth and caught the corner of her lower lip between them; she breathed the faintly smirked laugh of a woman who knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how she wanted to respond to him. But there was still that nagging, irritating layer of herself that hadn't yet been tasted. That part of herself that wanted to hold back.

But let's be honest, shall we?

In this lustful dream, after the carnal evening they'd just shared... she didn't truly want to withhold. Not even a sliver of her wanted that. All she wanted was to strip him down, strip him bare, find that island of ice and smash it with the fiery realization of her... her, alone in this moment... and all she could give him. She wanted to feel what he kept hidden, wanted to experience his desire... wanted to feel that desire and breathe it in, revel in it, let them both breathe it... and then satisfy it. All of it. But, thus far, he hadn't shown her that desire in the real world. He hadn't wanted her. When she touched him, his body hadn't needed to have her.

She didn't quite know it yet, but she'd feed off that, when she finally did catch a taste of it.

When she touched another, she could lose herself in the feel of their body if she wasn't careful... Just how this muscle was tense, how that spot in the spine was out of place and pressing on the surrounding nerves... how the body hungered, how they thirsted, how they craved. It could become so clear that she almost felt it in her own body. It was her Gift telling her the truth... screaming it at her, not letting her avoid it.

And if that need was directed at her? Well... she'd glimpsed that, a time or two. But always before, she'd been able to step back, step away, cut the connection and dismiss the friend or patient without a further thought. She was not marked with Ranuri, after all, not in this dream at least. It was simply her nature... simply herself. It was simply the most feminine, most intimate desire to see the thirst of another and want to slake it... it was simply biology. Cold, chemical biology. It was built into her blood to attract a mate with the force of his desire for her... True, she wanted love to come with that first time, she wanted it to be graceful and beautiful and sensual. But she was too sexual a creature, to intellectual a creature, to deny the flesh.

And then there was him.

Grace and beauty he had in abundance. And whatever emotional lack he had, he more than made up for in the physical - what need do you have, Litani, of emotion when there is such... power... in desire?

Yet she did have that need. She found herself staring into blue eyes that caught her very breath away, so close to her that she could feel the heat from his strong body, yet she wanted more of him. She wanted to get inside his mind and claim a part of him - just a small, delicate, intimate part of him - for herself. He'd gotten to her on any number of levels. Was it so wrong to return the favor?

Yet still... he wanted a game. Very well. Let's play, shall we?

"Me...?" she chuckled softly, not surprised but perhaps amused. Perhaps interested. Perhaps cautious even now. "And just what do I have that you could possibly want...to know?" That the last two words were only barely spoken wasn't important; she raised her head a touch and looked straight up at him, straight into him, meeting him on his own ground and tempting him... beckoning him. Her smile was delicate and sensible, but her eyes reflected that fire that burned so deeply inside him. "Is there something in particular that you wished to know...?"

Having said, the Konti settled one hand on the back of her chair as she stood there, looking the short distance up to him. She was brave and strong beneath the heat, one had to give her that. Innocent perhaps, dangerously at the edge of losing control but... most certainly strong. Any man that wanted to take her apart would have a delicious, deeply complex task on his hands. And oh... but the rewards that waited at the end of that path.

by **Matthew** on July 29th, 2013, 2:02 am

He didn't twitch as she stepped away. He didn't have to. His eyes gleamed and his full lips curved in the smile of a predator. The harlot was curious as to where she could run. Would she try and get down the stairs? Would she try and get behind the bookcases? Any running on her part would be a complete and total lie. He could tell. He could see it. She had hesitated just for a moment, and that meant that there was something in there that wanted what was shining in his gaze. He licked his lips, hungry for it himself. He felt himself shudder, toned muscles rippling and flexing with the desire to tear something apart. The man slowly rose from his casual seat as she smiled hesitantly at him, his blue eyes never leaving her own, that smile only curving even further. When she darted her tongue out briefly and bit her lip, his eyes instantly snapped to that. A look of hunger crossed his face, and he leaned forward, spotting something he liked. That was the best way to describe the look on his face. Matthew wasn't putting on a show. He wasn't trying to be sensual. He was merely hungry, and he wasn't doing a thing to hide it. The fire openly blazed in his eyes, and he wanted her to get burned by it.

Matthew was on the island now. It was both him and someone else that looked like him, desperately trying to make the flames vanish. He could cut off emotion normally. It was a simple task He could disassemble it with the preciseness of a surgeon and then store it away somewhere that it couldn't effect him. But something was wrong with his island. The ocean around him was no longer water, it was heat.

His body was so hot. Rational thought was slowly slipping away from him. He was slowly ceasing to be, and something else was taking over. Flame and hunger. Why was his body so hot? Why was he so hungry?

He needed to feast.

He approached her slowly, each step precise and graceful. His blue eyes carefully flicked over her, taking in every curve, taking in everything. He stepped closer with a plan in mind, his oncoming body tensed and flexed. He looked strong and powerful, threatening to singe her if she came too close. Faintly, he would realize something, and perhaps she would realize it as well. It wasn't anything as common as a game to see who would break first. The breaking was a foregone conclusion. It was a game to see how well they could strip the other down. Not clothes, but flesh. Not the physical, but the sensual. Something beyond a teacher in the University and a cold student of harsh logic. Something primitive, that existed in the very first moment of creation, when man and woman first glanced at each other and felt warmth flood through them. How they handled it. That is what he wanted to strip from her. Everything that made her Litani. All of her inhibitions, thoughts, doubts, wants, needs... he wanted to consume them. Consume. He was so hungry.

Those blue eyes examined her like no other. They openly admired her, delighting in every single piece of her body. They flickered up to stare into her gaze, to make sure she was watching him watch her, and then they dipped back down for more. His slow steps paused, and he soaked her in. He was commiting her to memory. We was memorizing everything so he could effectively dismantle it. He was just standing there in front of her, but his body was screaming so much. His eyes, his expression, the feeling in the air around him.

It was like she was molding him. Where she had saw cold ice before, there was now open windows into an animal of a man. He was open and clear with his desires, his wants, his demands, his passions, his intimacies, his everything. It was an open book. His admiration of her, how beautiful he found her, everything.

"You know." His eyes sharpened, and his teeth showed. Were some of them pointed a bit? No, that was silly. It was gone almost as briefly as it had appeared. His voice spoke out again, sharp and sultry, his lips curling into a playful snarl. "You have taught me so much already." Suddenly, it was like they were a dozen lessons in. She had taught him, he had learned, and everything had remained as professional as before. But now, her folly had been revealed. "You have created me, in a way. I asked you to. I wanted you to. You wanted me as well. You secretly wished that one day I would take all of your teachings, and in a single final test, show you everything I had learned." He rose a hand, his grin teasing as he wiggled the fingers. "Perhaps you didn't do it on purpose. You taught me how to dismantle you, Litani." He breathed her name, a low growl mixing with the spoken word. He stepped closer, his body dangerously close, threatening her to back away. If she touched him now, what would she feel? If his body was so very expressive on the outside, how would it be for her Gift? "There is still so much to learn though. So many more touches for my fingertips. For my lips." He licked his tongue out, burning eyes readily passing along the message. My tongue.

"Please, Miss Teacher." The spoken words dripped with mocking innocence. His other hand touched to the tabletop as he paused, fingertips digging into the wood, his arm tensing and showing off the defined muscle. Like he was anchoring himself so he wouldn't simply take her. "I want to learn how to disassemble you. Just one lesson. One more. Professional." He was mixing in duty with passion, as if giving her some sort of logic to latch onto. It was okay if it was a lesson. It wouldn't be something sinful, something horrid, something amazing. Not that they would admit. It would be a lesson.

Our secret.

He liked that she was strong. It would make it all that much better. He was strong too. They could stoke the flames into a raging inferno. He was counting on it. He wanted no sign of reasonable thought left when they were through with these opening stages. Thought was not something that was required. Only one thing was required.

His eyes flashed over her again. He was doing it. He was doing something she would remember from that first encounter. This wasn't simple seduction. This was a slow and detailed plot to dissect her underneath his fingertips. It was calculating, planned. After everything she had taught him, he had constructed a path on how to use it. He had spent weeks upon weeks finding out how the simplest of touches could make her squirm. Their lessons had all been preparation for the moment when he could toss her on a table and deconstruct her down into something primal and sexual. Her everything. His everything. Simply everything.

by **Litani** on July 29th, 2013, 3:36 am

She felt the shift as well, knew it for what it was as soon as it happened - so many things shifted, so much torn away and so much revealed - all because of what they'd done together. What they'd done to each other. And because of how much was still left to do.

One moment, she was seeing him for the first time. But no, not the first time, that's him. I know exactly who he is. ...The next moment, she knew him, remembered him, remembered wanting him. And then they passed beyond the first meeting, beyond the 'lessons' that he'd come to her asking for weeks ago, and they found themselves in this crystal clear moment.

She felt the heat of him standing so close, yet her willowy body shivered almost as if she were cold. But no, it could not be cold, for there was none of that. Not here, not now. There was only fire, the blue-hot fire of two pairs of sapphire eyes both so focused on each other that the rest of the dream 'world' could all but cease to exist. There were no walls anymore, there was no damned island, no cursedly calm core of professionalism... and for the first time, Litani saw inside him, felt him in the way she had so longed to do.

The realization hit her cleanly, clearly, and scared the living hell out of her for all of a fraction of a second - so complete was the difference, she briefly wondered if this was truly him at all. Gone was the act, gone was the mask, and in their place was only hunger... absolute, consuming, savage hunger. And then he spoke to her, and his voice completed the primal vision. And... then he was closer still.

In the waking world, she might have clung fiercely to her pride and refused him, no matter how badly her blood was screaming for him. No matter how desperate the ache. But here, all those constructed reasons came down in a shattering of senseless logic, letting her mind abandon any excuse she could have found to slip away... or to at least try. For an instant as she watched him, as she felt herself devoured by his eyes, she wondered if she'd have been successful even if she meant to deny him. Haltingly, caught between soft shock and absolute fixation, a smile touched the edges of her eyes. The expression made its way down to her lips where, after just a moment, it settled into a darkly amused sort of half-grin.

He wondered aloud if she'd done it on purpose - if she'd known what she was doing when she... taught him. Of course she'd known. She'd known from the moment he approached her with his request, she'd known every step of the way how many keys she was giving him to unlock her body. And then he said the word that they'd always taken shelter in before.

'Professional'.

That was what kept them centered, was it not? That was what kept them from tasting each other's lips, from savoring one another, from surrendering. 'Professional'. That's what they told themselves, and it's the delusion that defined their odd relationship. But here in this shared, hallowed unreality... there was no place for delusions.

With this thought in her mind, she took a breath to reply but it cut short, ending in almost something of a gasp, as she felt... it. Him. What he was doing, how he was changing the air. Again, she felt it, just like the first time, felt the crawling fire down her spine and the rushing blood through her flesh-- no, not like the first time. She felt it more. Even knowing what it was, she found herself unable or unwilling to resist it, almost exactly the opposite in fact; there was an exquisite sense of release in not resisting, in letting herself feel that pure, raw... want.

Finally, words came.

"I don't think 'professional' is what you really want."

She said the words easily, softly, breathing the sounds in that silky contralto voice of hers, letting the thought settle between them in what was left of the tiny distance. She didn't run, she didn't hide, and the longer she stared up into those piercing blue eyes of his, the less she even considered doing so. On the contrary, that shifted weight she'd put on her back foot now let itself drift forward, pulling her body closer as if on threads of an impossibly powerful, deeply anguished desire. Now that she could see how she affected him, now that she knew just how damn badly he wanted her, she wanted more.

As she moved, the barest edges of her started to brush against his senses - her hair against his arm, the fabric of her simple blouse and the split skirt beneath... and then her skin, just lightly, just for a split second, her hand brushing his. Oh but it was enough... it was plenty enough. Her eyes broke from his and flinched shut as she tasted the strength of him, tasted the animal of what his body needed, felt its unwavering hunger piercing into her mind and melt her body. If there had been reserve still clinging to some back corner of her mind, it was banished now. Forever.

Her eyes snapped open and immediately sought his out again, her body halting only for a split second as if to ascertain that what she'd felt from him just then was real. But it was. He was there, staring her down, daring her to run or give in or answer him somehow. He was still so close, so maddeningly close, and the shroud of suggestion that he so easily draped around her was tightening. She was tightening.

All at once, she moved again, but this time she didn't stop - her lips found his eagerly and she all but demanded his kiss, begging for it and offering up her own in exchange, drinking from him as deeply as he'd let her. It wasn't gentle and it wasn't subtle, the time for both those things was over. This was pure lust, purely raging and thirsting lust, and she let herself open up to him as the thundering fire of his body crashed through her mind. Her Gift burned with the awareness of him, his presence pressing on her and all but crowding out her own thoughts... save that they were all of him, all of wanting, all irresistible.

by **Matthew** on July 29th, 2013, 5:32 pm

His Djed was suddenly suffocating, thoughts grabbing giant handfuls of it and forcefully shoving it into his Hypnotic aura. His body felt hot, too hot, and he needed to get it out somehow. She would once again realize what was going on, instantly understand the feeling in the air. His blue eyes burned, sparkling with something foreign, this raging thing in front of her growing stronger and stronger by the second. Now the lust wasn't simply contained to his eyes, it was pouring out into the space around them, encircling them like an invisible tornado of suggestions and ideas. There was violence, there was gentleness, there was lust, there was love. There was images of tongues and nails, of welted skin and flawless skin. There was sweat and slickness, pleasure and weariness, and then the overwhelming urge to do it all over again. Only one thing was sure, and only one thing remained in the center of it all, once again an anchor to reach out and touch when some sort of control was needed. The anchor itself though was a trap. It was the fire. It was the flame. It was all that would be left.

Matthew found himself alone, surrounded by flames that he couldn't stomp out. He was always alone on the island, but then he was always in control. He didn't know why he was so afraid of not being in control of every aspect of his being. He didn't know why it terrified him so much. It wasn't that he was afraid of her. On some level, he trusted her. But did he trust her with himself? He didn't know if he trusted anyone with himself. He wanted to be the one that molded who he was. He didn't want to be constructed by others, or what they did, or what they made him want.

"Gnora help me." He didn't even know anything about her besides that she was Balance. She was Logic. She was everything that he was unwillingly about to lose.

It was the only thing he managed to whisper out before the fire consumed him.

His magic whipped against her, demanding that she listen. It wasn't anything more than suggestions, but it wasn't subtle. It wasn't elegant. The suggestions were screaming to be heard, lashing against her skin with desperation. He was changing again, right in front of her, the intelligence in his eyes fading. He wasn't going to be manipulating for long. He wasn't going to be following whatever plan he had in mind. He was losing himself, though that was what she wanted, wasn't it? He was slowly stopping all trains of rational and logical thought, and letting himself be swepted up. She spoke, and he couldn't help but grin, the corners of his lips stretching in a full and expressive smirk of utter amusement. "I think it's all you can handle, good little Konti." He threw out the mocking words with all sorts of enticing meanings behind them, challenging her. Telling her what she was, and daring her to define herself as something different in front of him. It was perhaps the last logical and planned-out move the harlot would make. He was almost no longer Matthew, that much was obvious. He was abandoning everything that made him who he was. He was obviously planning on stripping her from herself, but he wasn't shy about doing it to himself as well. He was going join her.

When she touched his body it roared, each and every inch of him shuddering. His desire was apparent, laid bare before her eyes. To her Gift, she would hear the screaming for more, the growling for more, the primal sounds that his body was begging her to hear. It gave her the fire, using her Gift as an outlet to pour molten lava into her. To prevent himself from burning alive, he desperately fed it to her, giving her Gift everything and hiding nothing. He didn't even know if her Gift was something he could hide from in the first place. He didn't care. His need wasn't something simple. It wasn't a craving in the normal sense of the word. It was important. It was everything. It was like life itself. He would die if he couldn't have it. He needed her in order to simply exist.

Then her lips found his, and it was all complete. Matthew was no more. He no longer needed to be. He only needed this.

Where her lips were desperate, his were as well. They almost immediately parted, full and wet, diving into a deeper kiss. His mouth pressed tighter to hers, as tight as he possibly could, ignoring any discomfort it caused his lips. Rumbled noises leaked from his throat, noises of mixed delight and need. He sounded as if he was indulging in a treat he had waited so very long to have, and as if only wanted more. Hands flashed up to her face, grabbing her cheek and lacing through her hair, trying frantically to pull her closer. She tasted sweet, warm, wet, salty. He craved it more and more, and growled, demanding that she give him more. His body pressed to her on all levels, trying to connect them in every place that they could possibly connect. He was well aware of her Gift, and he was planning to take total and utter advantage.

Instinctively a plan he had thought of long ago surfaced, not even an idea, merely an action that his body automatically followed. His hands expertly manipulated her body, dashing down it, fingertips brushing scales and pressing into points that she had taught him. It traced the curve of her sides through her clothes, and intricately detailed the dip in her lower back. He touched places to weaken her in his arms, to give him just enough of a moment to gather her and shove. If she was caught in the trap, she would find herself flung back, the curves of her back slamming a bit roughly into a nearby bookshelf. Books rained down around her, and like a light being cut off, her Gift would be deprived of everything it had been feeling. He ripped it away, leaving her body longing for a split second. But then he was coming, bearing down on her, his plan obvious. Rip a hole in her fire and then refill it, just to let her know how much she needed him. His body was oncoming, his hands working down the buttons of his shirt, merely getting half of them partially undone in his hurry. His blue eyes blazed, no longer rational, and his words leaked out with magic lacing every last husky syllable. "I will remake you." He would tear her apart and then put her back together, but with one corner of her mind forever belonging to him.

His body crashed to hers, all muscle and heat. His lips found her own again, rough and demanding, wet and eager. His strong hands dropped, hooking underneath her knees and tugging her up, dragging her back along the bookshelf to lift her mouth fully up to his level. He pressed tighter, pinning her, seemingly too lost to care for the wellbeing of either of their bodies. Could she say she really cared either?

by **Litani** on July 30th, 2013, 12:23 am

Her eyes were his prisoner as he stared into her mind, dividing all her secrets against themselves and forcing them to turn to him for an answer... The longer the two waited, the harder it would be to tear them apart and they drifted closer with only half a mind, between them, at best. A flash of a smirk met his magic; she felt it, she tasted it, she knew what it was and let it slide into her mind, let it catch her up and drag part of her down into the fire of consumation... while the rest of her soared up, flying into the currents of what they were creating between them.

She heard his words, challenging her, and yet she reveled in the way their lust animated the air around them - the way it had, in truth, since the first time the two had laid eyes on each other. They'd only resisted, for each their own reasons, until the light of unconsciousness gave them freedom to do what they both wanted so desperately. To what they needed of one another. She heard his words, heard his challenge, and smirked faintly: "Think again."

And then they kissed... first she, to him, but then he very quickly took the gesture from her and threw it into the fire to let it burn entire. But no, it wasn't a kiss, was it? No. It was more a devouring, a slaking of thirst that echoed between them so deeply that it was all they could think, all they could breathe. His mouth and his teeth bit against her, pinching her lips and piercing her mind with the sweet pain of how deeply he kissed her. Her voice softly cried desire and all but wept for the trembling taste, the unspeakable nearness of what they both so longed for - the sounds of her voice protested the pain but melted inside it, finding solace in the delicious agony of hurt bleeding into pleasure until his tongue and his lips were all she could feel. She heard his growl and answered it in kind, felt his hand in her hair and brought her own to his shoulders, holding there until he pulled her as close as he could... and then those nails raked deep into his skin as he pushed her away, sending her back clattering against the bookshelf, sending tomes of someone else's knowledge tumbling to the floor. All the knowledge she needed was him, all the justification she wanted was hanging in that space of nothingness he created when he pulled so briefly away from her - at once, her mind and his split in her thoughts and she was alone, but staring at him, breathless, unable to contemplate any farther than seeking him again. Again!

All she could handle?

Think again.

The way his hands played across her - just the way she'd taught him - did exactly what they were looking for and she found herself staring fire into the depths of his gaze as he pushed her back, daring him to come after her, tempting him with what he might have if he did. Her attention flicked down to the way his hands walked across the buttons of his shirt and, in response, hers crossed at the wrist, at her waist, and drew the edge of her own garment up over her head before tossing it thoughtlessly to the floor. A last, delicate shred of a veil stood between him and her flesh, but so sensual was it that it barely hid her at all... Nothing of her curves was shrouded, only the very edges, only the discrete way the flesh changes color when it nears the sharpest points of sensation...

And then he was upon her again, his body undeniable as he promised just exactly what he intended.

He wanted her. Wanted. She not only knew it but found it inescapable; it was delicious in its intoxication, sweeter than any wine she'd ever known, more addictive than the richest drug... He wanted more! ...she needed him to have more. It was her every thought, her every movement, all a dancing fight to give him enough to draw him farther... farther, deeper into her... so she could peel away the layers and satisfy him more. She wanted that island to burn with her signature, wanted him to lose himself inside her and never be the same without her. She wanted to take the logic and ice and fuse them in the hot starfire of an animalistic lust, a raging conflagration that would brand them both.

He wanted to remake her. He wanted to take what made her herself and refashion it, strip it down and break it, then give it back when he was done with it... forever curved around the way he'd played with it. He wanted to remake her? Then she wanted something in return. She was too proud, too strong, too fierce in herself not to meet his eyes in that precious fraction of a moment and answer his darkly needing growl... He wanted to remake her...?

"Then give me all of you," came the murmured, breathy response, words punctuated by nails biting into the back of his neck, curling down the strength of his shoulders. "Give me all of you..."

Her lithe body moved with him as he pulled her up, pulling at her knees, dragging them apart to let him between. In heat and hardness and silken softness they met, kept from each other by threads that could just as easily burn with the heat that forced itself between their minds. She wrapped those long legs around him and tightened against his hips, drawing him against her own, arching her back and gasping with the way he felt... all at once, he was back in her mind, all at once he was so incredibly powerful, so incredibly masculine... All of him she desired, as much as he could give her, as much as he could claim of her. The warmth of her blood left her restless and needful, aching to feel him, to wrap her body around him... inside and out.

She knew who he was, what he was. He might sell himself, he might please a thousand women, he might descend to anything asked of him for the right price... but she had his clearest lust in her eyes, she wanted his darkest desires and his clearest expressions... she wanted him - not the mask he gave up to satisfy, but the creature no one saw, the creature hiding in the shadows within. He wanted to remake her...? Then give me all of you...

"... and don't hold back."