i’ve been both a saint & a viper
His hungry and abysmal eyes click to her face when she speaks his name, genuine surprise shining in their cold, bottomless depths. Even in this terrifying state, where he fades into the shadows and his very bones seem to break the surface of smooth, black skin, she recognizes the insidious beast beneath. Inwardly he withdraws, uncertain and equally disgusted at the abomination he has become, but the sickly sweet scent of her blood keeps him lurking, hovering dangerously across her pearlescent skin. Even in the settling darkness of Sylva, she remains bright compared to the creature that stands stoically beside her, ragged breaths rattling in his chest.
Pressing against the sharp blade of his shoulder, Balto’s breath hinges in his throat. His obsidian lips peel back to reveal the sharpened teeth that came with his transformation, damp with saliva that shines in the dim light of the now-familiar forest. There is no caution in the way she pulls herself into him purposefully as if his demons had whispered his devilish desires in her ears and she was keen on bringing them to fruition. I am not a cannibal, he would muse to himself, and the dark voices that haunt him would shudder with laughter in response and his hunger would only deepen.
Balto tips his head, curving the slenderness of his dark neck as she folds into him, scraping the sharpness of his teeth ever so gently against her skin. His breath is but a shadowed whisper, heavy and staggered. How much blood would pour from her chest with the stake removed? It is an idle thought, one that fuels him as she speaks again. His tongue - pale and dry - attempts to moisten his lips.
“You tempt me,” he growls, not unaware of how his demons dance in the shadows, howling gleefully. Balto’s mouth ghosts across the plane of her chest, careful to avoid the javelin that sprouts from her heart, staining his lips with her blood. The shining black of his eyes disappears as his eyelids fall across them, swallowing what little of her he could taste on the tip of his tongue. Hadn’t she always tempted him, though? It’s nearly as if she knows his capabilities far more than he does and, in most cases, Balto doesn’t mind.
He’d rather not think about anything at all.
When his eyes open, he is surprised that his mouth is flush against the paleness of her skin, greedily tasting each morsel of blood like a starving hound. There is no caress in the gesture, no thought behind it - almost as if she were no longer there as the taste of blood soothes the ache in his stomach. With a hiss, as if regaining himself, the skeletal stallion throws his head upwards suddenly and staggers backward, his eyes glinting darkly. He may not be able to stop himself if he continues.
Balto
@[Sabra]