Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Printable Version
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Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 12-08-2014
Rylan was far from virginal, and not particularly inexperienced, but it had been a long time since her body had been used for such a purpose. She could not even remember the last time, as she tried to recall it. Centuries, perhaps, since she'd let another person get so close, but he could have everything he wanted of her, all he would have to do is ask.
She couldn't resist the brief swell of pride, as his body reacted to her words, and her touch. "I'm not nearly so fragile," she warns between kisses, between moans drawn from her lips by invading fingers. His use of French simultaneously tugged at her heartstrings and aroused her.
Her hands fells to her sides again, when he took over. Palms flattening against the tree, as if the feel of rough bark would help her keep some wits about her. Despite her efforts she was all but undone when he entered her. Each thrust was paired with a sharp inhale; short, staccato sounds, that were by no means indicative of pain. "A-Ah!" When he lifted her leg, the length of his cock was sheathed inside her at once and she cried out. She attempted to stifle the noise by biting her lip, a press of sharp teeth that left indents in her skin.
Her thighs tightened around his waist as she did as she was told. She draped her arms over his shoulders. One hand curled around the back of his neck, fingers splaying into damp tresses at the nape. The other hung limply across his shoulder blades. She met luminous blue eyes with her green ones, almost as if she had something to prove. To show that she wasn't all cowering and down-turned ears. That she was deserving of his attention.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 12-08-2014
Maybe less French, when it was so bittersweet for her. But it was such a lovely language – there was a reason it was his favorite, of those languages he could speak. Unless he was being really filthy. He liked English best for that.
It was becoming increasingly likely that someone would hear them inside the house.
"Not fragile," he agreed, kissing her again, giving her a moment to adjust to the length inside of her. "But beautiful things are treasures, yes?" He cupped her face, eyes now the color of the sky in summer, acknowledged the challenge in her gaze. "Emeralds, they are not fragile. But we lock them away and we wrap them in velvet, because they are precious all the same." Another kiss, and he began to rock his hips, shallow thrusts that ground him against her.
"Though I admit," he said against her skin, kissing her jaw, "that the collar and the garters bring less gentle treatment to mind." He thrust harder into her for emphasis, slid his hands up her thighs, up her sweater to lift it over the soft swell of her breasts. He used his left thumbnail to slice through the straps of her bra, impatient to have it tugged downward and out of his way. Another hard thrust, and this time her breasts bounced unrestrained; he growled with satisfaction, cupped them in his palms and tugged at her nipples as he dragged teeth over the crook of her neck.
Better ways and better places than to pound her into a tree, and what he'd give to have a better view of her legs wrapped around him. "You have wanted this," he said, and it was a statement, not a question. "Tell me what you imagined, when you imagined being mine."
Confessions of her fantasies were arousing in their own right. He was also, more practically, curious. The downside of being almost a mind reader.
It was becoming increasingly likely that someone would hear them inside the house.
"Not fragile," he agreed, kissing her again, giving her a moment to adjust to the length inside of her. "But beautiful things are treasures, yes?" He cupped her face, eyes now the color of the sky in summer, acknowledged the challenge in her gaze. "Emeralds, they are not fragile. But we lock them away and we wrap them in velvet, because they are precious all the same." Another kiss, and he began to rock his hips, shallow thrusts that ground him against her.
"Though I admit," he said against her skin, kissing her jaw, "that the collar and the garters bring less gentle treatment to mind." He thrust harder into her for emphasis, slid his hands up her thighs, up her sweater to lift it over the soft swell of her breasts. He used his left thumbnail to slice through the straps of her bra, impatient to have it tugged downward and out of his way. Another hard thrust, and this time her breasts bounced unrestrained; he growled with satisfaction, cupped them in his palms and tugged at her nipples as he dragged teeth over the crook of her neck.
Better ways and better places than to pound her into a tree, and what he'd give to have a better view of her legs wrapped around him. "You have wanted this," he said, and it was a statement, not a question. "Tell me what you imagined, when you imagined being mine."
Confessions of her fantasies were arousing in their own right. He was also, more practically, curious. The downside of being almost a mind reader.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 12-24-2014
Briefly, she found time to think on how nice it must have been to continue to be so eloquent with your cock buried inside a woman. Especially, perhaps, one that had been reduced to little more than sonorous purrs and gentle moans. She was offered kisses between words, and she drunk them down like wine, because in each press of lips, and flicker of tongue, any passing idea she'd had that this man her husband were the same crumbled.
Jean was strong coffee and dark chocolate, and gentle touches that made silent promises of rougher treatment. Her husband had been Earl Grey tea and honey, and soft caresses like drifting feathers.
As she stared down at him, she did her best to not look like he'd offered her the moon; to not look at him like he was hers, but she couldn't help it. Despite, how she reminded herself not to get attached to this moment, to not read anymore from it than was blatantly obvious.
Rylan made a habit of growing attached to things she shouldn't, to be swept away with even the slightest show of kindness.
She closed her eyes in an attempt to make her doting expression less noticeable. She leaned forward, forcing his teeth away from her skin and touched her forehead to his, pressed her breasts into his hands with unspoken need. Fingers pressed dimples into wet fabric spread across strong shoulders with each thrust. Her breath hitched, like someone who'd been caught doing something inappropriate, when he accused her of thoughts of intimacy. Chartreuse orbs fluttered opened once more, but instead of immediately replying she kissed him. He wanted words from her, something she did not usually have on the best of days, and now he wanted them in the form of dirty secrets she generally kept to herself.
She was not a mind reader, she didn't know what he wanted her, nor was she particularly clever or articulate. She would just have to be honest and hoped that sufficed. Though, it was terribly difficult to get her thoughts in order while impaled upon has cock as such. She removed her lips from his, brushing them across his jaw, as she moved to hover them near his ear. Lips brushed his earlobe as she spoke in a husky murmur, hot puffs of breath against his flesh.
"I imagined you taking me from behind with your hands in my hair, and about swallowing your cock until you come down my throat. You've put the idea of being bent over your desk in my head; or over your knee for that matter." She paused because another thrust was rewarded with a moan.
"So many other ways you could have me, if you wanted."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 01-03-2015
Jean did so enjoy rendering people incoherent. It was why he enjoyed finding excuses to make them speak. Reading books or telling stories or answering questions, listening to their words give way to senseless moans. A little mean, but he usually was. Such affection that she felt, but though it did not suit their short acquaintance it did not mingle with nostalgia the way he might expect. It was difficult to wonder at her motives when she was soft and sweet, when she felt delicate in ways that he knew she was not. Soft breasts and soft lips, fingers digging into his shoulders
"Will have you," he corrected, and with her mouth at his ear he could nuzzle at her hair, soft as the rest of her. Soft as the slickness still tight around him, tight even as he thrust faster into her. His hands slid upward from her breasts, around her neck and then higher to cup her face, holding her so that he could kiss her again. Their moans mingled in their mouths, a pleased hum thrumming through his lips, appreciation and desire. "Because I want you," he said, "in every way that I may have you, in every way that you desire me, as often as you can bear it."
It was a practical consideration, and not a kindness, that he made it his policy to wait for his partner to finish first. Too easy to get the timing wrong, otherwise, and that was how pelvises got broken. It wasn't the kind of lesson a person needed to learn twice. It wasn't even something he thought about consciously anymore, his desire first and foremost and for so many reasons to drive his partner over the edge. It made for a contradiction, still, that he had to be more careful the less he wanted to be. Thrusts hard and deep, hips hitting hers into the tree, it did not feel as cautious as it was, teeth scraping the skin of her throat and tongue dragging over the spaces between them to taste her pulse.
Rylan wanted to be possessed, and so Jean was possessive; desires mingled, and he could never say where someone else's ended and his began. It was not a distinction he cared about, because the end result was the same. He wanted her, he had her, and he would have her again until he'd wrung every last drop of affection from her heart. Or until another pretty face stole his attention. "Beautiful," he breathed against her skin, "darling woman, lovely cat, pretty little pet of mine–"
"Will have you," he corrected, and with her mouth at his ear he could nuzzle at her hair, soft as the rest of her. Soft as the slickness still tight around him, tight even as he thrust faster into her. His hands slid upward from her breasts, around her neck and then higher to cup her face, holding her so that he could kiss her again. Their moans mingled in their mouths, a pleased hum thrumming through his lips, appreciation and desire. "Because I want you," he said, "in every way that I may have you, in every way that you desire me, as often as you can bear it."
It was a practical consideration, and not a kindness, that he made it his policy to wait for his partner to finish first. Too easy to get the timing wrong, otherwise, and that was how pelvises got broken. It wasn't the kind of lesson a person needed to learn twice. It wasn't even something he thought about consciously anymore, his desire first and foremost and for so many reasons to drive his partner over the edge. It made for a contradiction, still, that he had to be more careful the less he wanted to be. Thrusts hard and deep, hips hitting hers into the tree, it did not feel as cautious as it was, teeth scraping the skin of her throat and tongue dragging over the spaces between them to taste her pulse.
Rylan wanted to be possessed, and so Jean was possessive; desires mingled, and he could never say where someone else's ended and his began. It was not a distinction he cared about, because the end result was the same. He wanted her, he had her, and he would have her again until he'd wrung every last drop of affection from her heart. Or until another pretty face stole his attention. "Beautiful," he breathed against her skin, "darling woman, lovely cat, pretty little pet of mine–"
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 02-10-2015
"Promises, promises," she counters in her purring tones, before his hands were against her cheeks and his lips against her own. If she were to be honest, Rylan would admit that she did not expect to be with him like this again. She assumed this intimacy was more of a conquest; just another woman on a long list to prove that he could. That thought alone should have brought the moment to a halt long before it had began, but the feline couldn't bring herself to care.
Rylan had long overcome her need for love. She had found it shallow and fleeting more often than anything else, but she was a creature of habit, and currently those habits revolved around finding outlets for her desperate need for attention. As time passed Rylan was less and less of a person, and more of a toy.
Fingers threaded through ebony locks, gently, as she pressed his lips closer to her skin. His words were exactly what she needed to hear. The suggestion of possession and a confirmation of being a pretty object. These carefully chosen phrases were rewarded with her climax. She wanted to writhe. To toss her head back and arch her spine, but trapped between Jean's body and the tree she was reduced to purring moans, her body clinging and tightening around his as he coursed ripples of pleasure with every thrust.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 02-11-2015
Lovely, lovely girl.
Or maybe he was biased because she made such a lovely meal.
Jean's eyes went white as she reached her peak, and he was very careful not to move. Didn't want to go breaking her spine, or uprooting his tree. Not to mention any of the other unpleasant things that could happen when he was as well-fed as he was. Still as a statue until it was safe to move again, safe to sate himself in her though he had to do so carefully. Very good at being careful, because it had been years now since he could be with someone he didn't have to worry about hurting, years since he could be the snarling thing he sometimes played at being.
He slid his hands along the skin of her back, behind her to wrap his arms around her, pressing his lips to the crook of her neck. Around her as much as inside her, murmuring lost words into her skin.
«B̧̰̜͙̰̠e̱̱̙̩a̻̳̯̺̱̱u̼͈ṱ̦͍̞̩ͅi͇̹f̝̮͓̀u̜̻l̜͇͖̮͔̠̮ ̞̬̖̺̹̞͔f͏̣̯r͓ͅa̜̱̳̹͓ͅg̶̳̭̖il͖͕̣͓̺͠e͓̭͈͇̩͖͘ͅ ̖̦li̙̙͙̫ṭ̲̦͖̳t̥̘l҉̞̺̞̟͈̙e̻̦͚̞̥̭̬ ͔̜̻̟ͅṯh̴i̡͈̦̜̤͕̳n̙g̪̟̫̰,̵̹̪̲̪ ̯̮̦̫̀a͓̖̪͙̹͈l̛̳͚͎̖̖̰͉l͔͍ ̙f̢o̳͎̟̣̦r̨̼ ̲͕͉̫̲ͅm͟è̼̻̼͚,͏̱̰͉ ̜͍̫͙͡sw҉̥̣̗e̖͎e̼͜t ̠̥̲̥a̘̰̖͔͈̩n̳͓d̟̜͈͠ ̠͉̥̣͎͘s͍͍i̺͔͈͕̤̺͚l̗l̹̬y̻̤ ̲̱̤̥ͅp͓̭̙̥̹et̛̘͉͈̣ ̳͚͇̭̖̞͉a͙͙̯l̞͚̝̳͇̳ͅl͖͚͇͖͔ ͉̫̠͖͓͟m͚̫͎͕i̱̙̣̯̯̫̩n҉e̹̙̖ ̖̫̝̠̗̹m͕͎̮͘í͚͚̙͍n̨͖̯͉ͅȩ ̖m͉̞̟i̭͖͍n̰̦͖̠̺͍͟e̙̩̘͙ͅ,̗̻̖̣̱ e̖̺͙̗̙͇͓a̸͙̺t ̲y̞͔̺ͅo̲̪̝͚͇̞̣u̲̯͟ ̡a̻̭͢l̖̖i̭͈̜vé̦̪ ͚͔̹̳͉y̪̯̦̤̩̟o͙̮̪͡ͅu͕͍̹̬̙͈ ̣̜̥̣̀p̜̹͇͚̙r̨̭͇͓̫̤ẹ̗̹̤͕̮ț͚̦̘̗̭̼͜t̲̞̙̤̞y̶̘̝̯̹̫ ̵̤͚̩̪̼̥g̞̘̜̻̳i͕̮̼ṟ̘̝̗̹̰̭͠l͎̣͎͘.»
Ordinarily he might have used French, or Latin. Something that was easier to pretend was romantic. But Rylan was not ordinary, and so his tongue made shapes typically reserved for Elijah's ears, the one and only who knew what it was he said when he was halfway to mindless. One of many unflattering things that he preferred no one to know; particularly not beautiful women who deserved kindness for kindness. Women who most certainly did not deserve the feral growlings of an unkind man with his twitching cock buried inside her.
"Beautiful," he sighed as he relaxed, eyes still pale and still easily able to carry her. "What a wonderful woman you are," he said, compliments to coax happiness out of her, to solidify the memory in her mind as a good one. "What a terrible mess I've made of you, poor dear."
Or maybe he was biased because she made such a lovely meal.
Jean's eyes went white as she reached her peak, and he was very careful not to move. Didn't want to go breaking her spine, or uprooting his tree. Not to mention any of the other unpleasant things that could happen when he was as well-fed as he was. Still as a statue until it was safe to move again, safe to sate himself in her though he had to do so carefully. Very good at being careful, because it had been years now since he could be with someone he didn't have to worry about hurting, years since he could be the snarling thing he sometimes played at being.
He slid his hands along the skin of her back, behind her to wrap his arms around her, pressing his lips to the crook of her neck. Around her as much as inside her, murmuring lost words into her skin.
«B̧̰̜͙̰̠e̱̱̙̩a̻̳̯̺̱̱u̼͈ṱ̦͍̞̩ͅi͇̹f̝̮͓̀u̜̻l̜͇͖̮͔̠̮ ̞̬̖̺̹̞͔f͏̣̯r͓ͅa̜̱̳̹͓ͅg̶̳̭̖il͖͕̣͓̺͠e͓̭͈͇̩͖͘ͅ ̖̦li̙̙͙̫ṭ̲̦͖̳t̥̘l҉̞̺̞̟͈̙e̻̦͚̞̥̭̬ ͔̜̻̟ͅṯh̴i̡͈̦̜̤͕̳n̙g̪̟̫̰,̵̹̪̲̪ ̯̮̦̫̀a͓̖̪͙̹͈l̛̳͚͎̖̖̰͉l͔͍ ̙f̢o̳͎̟̣̦r̨̼ ̲͕͉̫̲ͅm͟è̼̻̼͚,͏̱̰͉ ̜͍̫͙͡sw҉̥̣̗e̖͎e̼͜t ̠̥̲̥a̘̰̖͔͈̩n̳͓d̟̜͈͠ ̠͉̥̣͎͘s͍͍i̺͔͈͕̤̺͚l̗l̹̬y̻̤ ̲̱̤̥ͅp͓̭̙̥̹et̛̘͉͈̣ ̳͚͇̭̖̞͉a͙͙̯l̞͚̝̳͇̳ͅl͖͚͇͖͔ ͉̫̠͖͓͟m͚̫͎͕i̱̙̣̯̯̫̩n҉e̹̙̖ ̖̫̝̠̗̹m͕͎̮͘í͚͚̙͍n̨͖̯͉ͅȩ ̖m͉̞̟i̭͖͍n̰̦͖̠̺͍͟e̙̩̘͙ͅ,̗̻̖̣̱ e̖̺͙̗̙͇͓a̸͙̺t ̲y̞͔̺ͅo̲̪̝͚͇̞̣u̲̯͟ ̡a̻̭͢l̖̖i̭͈̜vé̦̪ ͚͔̹̳͉y̪̯̦̤̩̟o͙̮̪͡ͅu͕͍̹̬̙͈ ̣̜̥̣̀p̜̹͇͚̙r̨̭͇͓̫̤ẹ̗̹̤͕̮ț͚̦̘̗̭̼͜t̲̞̙̤̞y̶̘̝̯̹̫ ̵̤͚̩̪̼̥g̞̘̜̻̳i͕̮̼ṟ̘̝̗̹̰̭͠l͎̣͎͘.»
Ordinarily he might have used French, or Latin. Something that was easier to pretend was romantic. But Rylan was not ordinary, and so his tongue made shapes typically reserved for Elijah's ears, the one and only who knew what it was he said when he was halfway to mindless. One of many unflattering things that he preferred no one to know; particularly not beautiful women who deserved kindness for kindness. Women who most certainly did not deserve the feral growlings of an unkind man with his twitching cock buried inside her.
"Beautiful," he sighed as he relaxed, eyes still pale and still easily able to carry her. "What a wonderful woman you are," he said, compliments to coax happiness out of her, to solidify the memory in her mind as a good one. "What a terrible mess I've made of you, poor dear."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 02-19-2015
It was hard to determine what a demon did, when it wasn't actively possessing it's host. When it was still there... but not really. If you asked Rylan she would say it felt like a hovering. As if something was constantly looking over your shoulder. However,no one ever asked Rylan. The demon had been content; perfectly content, at that, to linger in the back of Rylan's mind and ignore the two of them as they played. Right up until Jean had to go and make himself interesting. Words, lost on the feline's furred ears and mistaken for something sweet, drew the demon to the forefront of Rylan's consciousness like a magnet.
Rylan was not very good at fighting of the demon when it decided that it wanted control. For Belial it was as easy a slipping into a new dress or a comfortable sweater, but for Rylan it was like being shoved into a cage, pitch black and deafeningly silent. She would be let out again when Belial's curiosity was sated.
It converged upon its host during Jean's attempt at kindness. The gesture was instantly ruined by the presence; ruined further by knowing what he had said just moments before. Rylan did not have the same benefit of eavesdropping that Belial did.
She (because when the demon was present it really did like being a she) uncurled her arms from where they had been draped around his neck and dropped them to her sides. "Quite a mess indeed," she agreed on the tails of an exasperated sigh. She managed to turn the kitten's soft features into something haughty, even as she leaned against the tree, still supported by his arms. Emerald orbs had become a dreadful color more akin to a ruby, and they skirted from side to side as if accessing the situation the demon was in.
Pressed against a tree with a man's cock still sheathed inside her was either the worst or the best of her entrances. She had not yet decided.
She cocked her head, an action more from muscle memory than of her own habits. The lack of accompanying ear movements was a decent way to know which one of them you were dealing with. Red orbs finally fell upon his once more, and she was almost surprised by the paleness of them. She pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, but appeared as if she was testing to see if the activity was at all to her liking.
It was not.
"Imagine the mess it could have been, though. Had you any less self-control."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 02-19-2015
Rylan very suddenly was not Rylan any longer. She tasted instead sulfuric, that hint of hellfire that he had previously detected lurking in the back of her mind. He would have noticed even if he couldn't feel it in her. Like a puppet instead of a person, now, with a very intimate puppeteer. Didn't move in the way that he associated with Rylan, in what short time he had been given to get to know her.
Here his eyes were the palest eggshell shade of blue, and hers had gone all red instead. Fire and smoke, blood and milk.
Jean had at least managed to get what he wanted first, but it still wasn't a very pleasant transition. Like finding an overboiled egg in the middle of a chocolate cake.
He made no move to withdraw from within her, nor to release her from where she was pinned to the tree with his hips and a hand on her thigh. He ran a hand over his hair to clear away some of the mist that had collected there, though there was nothing to be done for the disarray that his wide curls became at the slightest provocation. "A terrible mess," he agreed, "but I have become quite good at not fucking people to death."
A brief attempt was made to set her bra back to rights, but since he had sliced the straps, it was a lost cause. He shrugged, and pulled her sweater back down to cover the problem. Though when Rylan was herself again, she would have to keep her arms carefully crossed. He could only fix her up so much under the circumstances, but one did what one could.
"I do not believe we have been formally introduced," he said, and if Jean was at all aware of the irony of making such a statement while buried to the hilt inside her, he did an admirable job of hiding it. "Since you seem to know who I am, you have me at a disadvantage. All I know about you is that I do not care for the taste of you." To emphasize the point, he very abruptly and very rudely licked her cheek, as if that were even remotely what he had meant by the statement.
Here his eyes were the palest eggshell shade of blue, and hers had gone all red instead. Fire and smoke, blood and milk.
Jean had at least managed to get what he wanted first, but it still wasn't a very pleasant transition. Like finding an overboiled egg in the middle of a chocolate cake.
He made no move to withdraw from within her, nor to release her from where she was pinned to the tree with his hips and a hand on her thigh. He ran a hand over his hair to clear away some of the mist that had collected there, though there was nothing to be done for the disarray that his wide curls became at the slightest provocation. "A terrible mess," he agreed, "but I have become quite good at not fucking people to death."
A brief attempt was made to set her bra back to rights, but since he had sliced the straps, it was a lost cause. He shrugged, and pulled her sweater back down to cover the problem. Though when Rylan was herself again, she would have to keep her arms carefully crossed. He could only fix her up so much under the circumstances, but one did what one could.
"I do not believe we have been formally introduced," he said, and if Jean was at all aware of the irony of making such a statement while buried to the hilt inside her, he did an admirable job of hiding it. "Since you seem to know who I am, you have me at a disadvantage. All I know about you is that I do not care for the taste of you." To emphasize the point, he very abruptly and very rudely licked her cheek, as if that were even remotely what he had meant by the statement.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 02-23-2015
The demon drew her eyes away from Jean as he spoke, almost as if she weren't listening. More interested in her surroundings than him, at the moment. She was processing several things at once. Such as: what she would do if and when he finally released her, and how much trouble she was interested in causing? Trouble was fun, because it was never something she really had to deal with. She was perfectly content in leaving Rylan to sort out the aftermath.
Belial knew, however, that amusing herself too intensely would backfire on her and her host in the end. She could only do so many things at once, and when it came to keeping the two of them warded or causing chaos, her barriers took priority. Somewhere out in the world a very grumpy warlock was scrying for her and that was a acquaintance she would rather avoid.
"I imagine the 'to death' part is the most interesting, overall. Without it... it all seems like a terrible waste of energy." Her tone sounded distracted, but she was looking at him again. An unblinking stare of assessment if nothing else. She was surprisingly compliant as he attempted to set her undergarments back to sorts. Being literally pinned to a tree, left little room for anything else.
She leaned her head back against the tree, but was otherwise limp in his grasp. It would be wonderful if they could do something about the pinning, but she gathered it was likely a preventative measure on his part. Couldn't exactly blame him for not letting a demon run rampant on first meeting.
She did her best to turn her face away from him, as if there were anywhere for her to escape to. When he drew back, she lifted a hand to wipe the trail his tongue had left with the sleeve of her sweater. "Belial," she says simply, before her lips curved in a frown and her brows knit. Preemptive of inevitable disappointment. Once upon a time she would have put a bit more effort into a introduction; at best, some theatrics, but it had been far too long since anyone knew of her- centuries since just her name could have been a threat.
"Ah, but I quite like the taste of you. All that subtle arrogance, and not-so-subtle vanity. It's quite refreshing."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Tindome - 03-06-2015
He would have been perfectly pleased to be out of her presence until the body she occupied was Rylan once more, but somehow this seemed like a bad idea. Elijah had trouble enough with Rylan's presence without her running amok with a demon inside her. Jean was not the in the mood for those sorts of I told you sos. Not that he ever was.
There were less pleasant ways to try and keep a person trapped, as these things went. It seemed gauche to complain. He was strong enough to keep her where he wanted her, anyway, though there was no telling what strength she might have nor how strong her sense of self-preservation. He had no desire to be someone else's instrument in bringing Rylan harm.
"Death is of no use to me without an audience," he said, "and I do not let it go to waste, besides." The ribbon in his hair, he was realizing, had fallen so low and so loose as to be utterly useless. With a touch of irritation he pulled it free, letting his hair fall as it would over his shoulders. Rather than find somewhere else to put it, he took his time tying it in a bow around her ponytail. "Not that it really matters, I suppose, how things seem to you. I do not have much use for you, and so none for your opinions."
Usually that manner of disdain was not accompanied by continued penetration, but c'est la vie. A certain kind of demon could be fun every now and again, but he had a hunch this would not be that kind.
"Hm." He took her jaw in his hand to try and tilt her face to get a better look at it. It would not take much to dissuade him, since he'd no intention of ripping her skull apart. "Does that mean something different where you are from?" he wondered. "I do not doubt the truth of it, but you do not seem the sort to name yourself Worthless."
The corner of his mouth crooked upward. "I do not doubt that I am appetizing," he said, "but it is not your appetites to which I seek to appeal." He did not deny his arrogance or his vanity, because he did not consider it a flaw to be aware of his own beauty. He considered these aspects of her person to be entirely justified.
There were less pleasant ways to try and keep a person trapped, as these things went. It seemed gauche to complain. He was strong enough to keep her where he wanted her, anyway, though there was no telling what strength she might have nor how strong her sense of self-preservation. He had no desire to be someone else's instrument in bringing Rylan harm.
"Death is of no use to me without an audience," he said, "and I do not let it go to waste, besides." The ribbon in his hair, he was realizing, had fallen so low and so loose as to be utterly useless. With a touch of irritation he pulled it free, letting his hair fall as it would over his shoulders. Rather than find somewhere else to put it, he took his time tying it in a bow around her ponytail. "Not that it really matters, I suppose, how things seem to you. I do not have much use for you, and so none for your opinions."
Usually that manner of disdain was not accompanied by continued penetration, but c'est la vie. A certain kind of demon could be fun every now and again, but he had a hunch this would not be that kind.
"Hm." He took her jaw in his hand to try and tilt her face to get a better look at it. It would not take much to dissuade him, since he'd no intention of ripping her skull apart. "Does that mean something different where you are from?" he wondered. "I do not doubt the truth of it, but you do not seem the sort to name yourself Worthless."
The corner of his mouth crooked upward. "I do not doubt that I am appetizing," he said, "but it is not your appetites to which I seek to appeal." He did not deny his arrogance or his vanity, because he did not consider it a flaw to be aware of his own beauty. He considered these aspects of her person to be entirely justified.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Blade - 03-21-2015
Elijah wasn’t one to wait on someone to make a decision. He was polite to a point; however, enough time had passed that the boy should have given a response. Rhys, for her part, only wanted to help. He could not fault her, even if her actions generally steered towards amorous. Was it hypocritical to be annoyed with her for such while at the same time tolerating it so well from Jean? Perhaps, but he would never agree. Biases be as they will and all that.Eventually, he just adjusted his glasses. “Let me know if you require any assistance then,” he told him before turning away from the bookshelf and the boy. In some way, he acted as if Rhys were not there at all—par for the course her, likely.
But Rhys was hardly a worry given what was brewing in his master’s garden. He did not like the tone, the feelings, or the inclination of such changes. There was a reason he did not like the kitten very much, and, it appeared as though such reasons had finally presented themselves. Briefly, he wondered if this would be another case of putting someone on the sidewalk—ungracefully at that. While he had no doubt Jean could take of himself, Elijah didn’t often like him to.
He supposed, at the very least, emotions weren’t woven into this new interlude. Such messy thing, if such were the case.
With a short sigh, he moved towards the front desk and pondered going to the kitchen and pretending to enjoy a cup of coffee… as useless as that would be.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - megs - 03-22-2015
Belial was being very polite, considering her usual nature. All pinned up between a man and a tree with hardly a fidget. She could have removed herself from the position any time she had pleased. Even if her strength was not enough to move him, the large oak was casting plenty of shadows for her to escape through. Yet, she stayed, because she found Jean much more interesting than causing havoc. For now.
"That's understandable," she muses, quietly. She tilted her head slightly to allow him better access to his current task. When the ribbon was secure she straightened and cast her gaze down upon him once more. Garnet orbs widened around the edges and her mouth curved into a quiet 'oh,' as if she had just realized something. Black hair fell over Jean's shoulders and framed his face just so, and she was suddenly very aware of Rylan's sudden attachment to the man.
Brows climbed her forehead. Even without the accompaniment of ears and a tail, Belial was very expressive. "That's not a very nice thing to say at all." Bottom lip jutted forward in a pout, which looked out of place on Rylan's features. Timid, and somewhat forlorn was her default visage, but she very rarely pouted. "I've been nothing but polite, and this animosity is hardly warranted. I can be very charming given the chance."
Her face was turned this way and that, and as before she allowed it to happen. Continually passive against his touch. "It means what it means," she tried very hard not to speak through clenched teeth, but it did not work out. "Not all of us have the opportunity to name ourselves. It isn't any more representative than the given name of anyone else." Oh, but it was. In ways that she wasn't willing to admit. It was hardly a fair comparison. The name had been given to her after very careful consideration, but she would not give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
"I did not come to appease an appetite. I just wanted to see what the queen found so interesting." She referred to Rylan, by a lot of things, but rarely by name. The tendency left others confused at times, but she couldn't be bothered to be consistent. Her voice had taken that distracted tone once more, her attention was as easily lost as it was gained. Belial had turned her head to the side, almost pressed against the tree. The bookstore lay behind them, and she could not hope to see it in her current predicament. Her smirk was feral enough to show pointed canines, eyes rolled upwards towards the establishment. "I think your guard dog knows I'm here."
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Hobo_Bob - 04-25-2015
The poor boy seemed lost for words for such a stretch of time, her mind no longer focused on what she was originally think. Something about another young lad and how this one reminded her of him. Perhaps it was someone from her past? Well, definitely from the past and yet not entirely all that long ago. It was oh so taxing to try and remember things without any real substance in her mouth.
And as she thought that, her eyes zeroed in on Elijah as he moved away, bored of the young lad already. Pouting a little, her gazed returned to the quiet lad and gave him a cheery smile before she let him wander along in the book store. he came here for a reason, and it seemed he did not want to be bothered. Or perhaps she was over taxing the little one. Shrugging that thought away, Rhys returned her gaze to Jean's long time angry companion.
Elijah.
There was a little ghoul in her. Something that wanted to ruffle his perfectly tight feathers and irritate him to either argue or became in such disarray. Hence why she slid away from the shelf she stood near and moved in closer to where Elijah stood at the front desk. There was a small stack of books needing to be put away. Jean did not have much of a sense of organization, yet somehow there were piles or areas for the books.
And they wished to be held in her arms. Whisper their stories to her and one wished to be real. Just like Pinocchio, but not all were fit to be real boys. Or creatures. Hence why Rhys ignored their pleas and stood beside Elijah. Her hands were held behind her back, one grasping the wrist of the other, while she hummed softly to a tune she heard playing a night or two prior at the club near by.
Something about a bass....
Either the fish or perhaps it was the clef in a music bar. None the less, she remained as she was in otherwise silence.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Angel Kimmi - 04-26-2015
Zakiel’s emotions had settled somewhat from Elijah’s approach and the fact that Rhys wasn’t quite so close. He had space to think and breathe, though he found himself staring at Elijah again once the taller male addressed him. If he was honest he was a touch intrigued by him and the sound of his deeper cultured voice, listening to the timbre a bit more than the words in his distraction. His attention further side-tracked again by his unusual colouring once more, for all appearances didn’t seem the type for contact lenses and hair dye, but his colouring was beyond the norm. Of course Rhys’ colouring seemed unusual as well, so perhaps it was popular? He didn’t keep up with trends.It took a few moments to realise that Elijah had stopped talking and there had been a question aimed at him. It took him a few moments to recollect the question. What he was looking for amongst all the tomes? To be honest he wasn’t sure. There was so much opportunity, so many books that called out to him to be read and appreciated, he wasn’t sure if he could limit his search in such a treasure trove.
It was far more enjoyable than searching online. Perhaps he would have to venture out more often to find books – preferably when it was not raining. To be honest he could probably stay there curled up reading for weeks amid all these volumes. Likely forgetting to eat or sleep if given the chance - not too unlike his habits at home.
Though he didn’t understand the filing system here so perhaps he could do with some assistance after all.
It was at that moment he realised that both individuals were still waiting for him to respond. Pale cheeks flushing a bright hue in mortification as it dawned on him that Rhys had been waiting for him to shed his coat, he’d missed her words in his inner dialogue obviously. While Elijah was still waiting for a response to his politely worded question.
Ignoring as well as rejecting hospitality, in addition to dripping all over the floor, he thought miserably as he chalked up more sins to his internal tally. They were likely thinking he was ungrateful…or slow, or bad mannered…or all of the above. This realization was only adding to the disorder of his thoughts and increasing his flustered condition. Zakiel was not used to a lot of attention, even when it was only two individuals waiting expectantly for an answer from him.
He was an introvert as well as a recluse, and the situation was beginning to become a little overwhelming for him - today was an attempt to curb his antisocial ways. Trying being the key word. It was why he’d decided to face the weather and go to some bookstores today rather than looking for the volumes online and consequently order them from the safety of his room. Instead he’d come ventured out which had led to his current soaking wet condition.
This was yet another thing his sisters had teased him about it mercilessly in addition to his girly appearance and phobia of women, though the last issue was probably their fault. Still common sense dictated that when you had siblings like that one would want to be a recluse. Books were his love and comfort in his solitude, they didn’t judge you the way humans did.
Tsundoku - Antique and Well-Loved Books - Angel Kimmi - 04-26-2015
This was not turning out like he had hoped…not at all. He had digressed once more. Getting caught up in his thoughts as he was prone to do wasn't helping his situation. Instead it left two individuals staring at him, obviously waiting for a response while his tongue was tied and his thoughts deviated all over the place in the midst of his inner turmoil. Or perhaps they were not waiting after all...
Oh hell… he thought with a quiet sound of dismay as he finally noticed their disappearance. Not that they had disappeared into thin air obviously. No they had grown tired of waiting for him to get over his tied tongue, or perhaps they’d simply had enough of his impoliteness for the moment.
Zakiel settled back on his heels before leaning forward to rest his forehead against the wood of the bookshelf and he let out a soft sigh as he closed his eyes. Focusing on his breathing and controlling his wayward emotions, though he was both glad for the privacy and dismayed at it. He had ruined a perfectly good opportunity yet again. He needed to apologise, but say what? I’m sorry that I was preoccupied in my own inner world and forgot to answer you?
He groaned quietly and hit his head lightly against the wood in front of him. It didn't sound like an appropriate apology at all.
Opening his eyes he straightened and stared at the books in front of him. What was he to do now? He could beat a quick retreat and pretend this never happened, he would likely be just one of many that the two employees would soon forget about in his absence. But that would be such a waste… such a shame to leave so many books unread.