Dry Bones Rattle In A Lonely Soul - Tumblr Posts

Maybe this was a mistake. Instinct kept demanding that it was a mistake, that it had to be a mistake, that going to talk to her tonight was only going to end badly for both of them--but that same instinct, Blitz knew, was born out of way too many years of just trying to survive, way too many years of always being at odds with the world, always fighting the world. But now? He didn't want to fight anymore. At least, not against anyone--and not against Vizzy. But damn if the imp wouldn't fight for her... which meant, terrifyingly, that he had to fight himself and his own damn impulses to run.

Dressed simply tonight, in comfortable jeans and a tight but torn white sleeveless top, Blitz didn't entirely blend in as well as he should have, but he still drew a few lingering glances and touches. He ignored all of them, focused on just weaving his way through the crowd to get to her--and trying, desperately fucking trying, to figure out out what the fuck he was going to say to her. Hey girl, you dying inside? Hey babe, what's up, I noticed you looked too long at the abyss and now it's caught you, what's up? Viz, sexy badass, totally still just a fling, I'm worried you're gonna disappear inside yourself one of these days and not going to be able to reach you, so what the fuck, we need to talk? Not really great conversation starters, any of them...

Especially considering that recently, it almost felt like she was suddenly putting the brakes on, suddenly pulling away from him. Which, fuck, Blitz could respect that, he could understand it, and he would respect it--if he didn't get the feeling that for Vizzy, right now, doing that was a form of self-harm. There was something in her eyes, some ache, some kind of loneliness, that if Blitz didn't at least try to reach out and offer a connection for, he was one shit-fuck of a boyfriend. Not to mention, he had seen that beautiful photo on her phone, a moment of love frozen in time and--and what? Held captive by pain? By ghosts and memories? The woman who had been with Viz in the photograph, a Sinner named Dhallia, wasn't around anymore. And not just not around as in not seeing Vizzy, but not around as in, Blitz had used I.M.P's resources to seek this woman out and there just wasn't any sign that she was still alive.

There was, unfortunately, every sign she was dead. And if she was dead, and something to do with that death was fucking Viz up and she was suffering alone? And that was why she was pulling away?

Blitz couldn't let her leap. Not alone.

If she jumped, he would jump with her.

That much was already a given.

He was hers until she told him not to be, and he was going to take that fucking seriously, for once in his life, and be the lover his person deserved.

So although his head was a mess by the time he made it to her, Blitz's heart was sure of this course, at least, and that was something. He walked up to her, gently cupped the back of her head with one muscular hand, and kissed her--slow, loving, but not long enough, not nearly long enough, at least not for him. But the kind of kisses Blitz wanted with her maybe weren't the kind she wanted right now, and he had to respect that.

"Hey, babe." Blitz straddled her lap, resting his wrists on her shoulders. "Working too hard? Or hardly working?"

I love you. Fuck. I'm not going to lose you to depression or trauma or whatever else is happening. If you choose to let me go, that's one thing, but I'm not gonna lose you to the darkness, Viz. Whatever it takes.

Blitz's eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness, but they were focused only on her. However many people might be in there dancing, drinking, and playing away the pain, Blitz saw only one person. Right now, there could be no one else.

(Angsty starter for @doublejango because I have literally ZERO impulse control. X_X -- It was a busy night down at Kingdom Cum, drinks flowing freely and gyrating bodies covering the dance floor and the performance stage alike. Cigarette smoke swirled through the air like church incense and the dark sensuality of the heavy pulsing beats filled the club with an especially vibrant energy that was felt by all. All but one. The club owner, herself, sat at a private booth with an ashtray and half a mai tai on the table in front of her as she watched the throng of partying patrons with a hollow gaze. Even as she sat there in her beloved establishment, surrounded by all the things she loved and had worked so hard to achieve, her mind was miles away--it had all started out so damned simple. Harmless fun, a companion she could turn to when she needed a physical release, be it rampant violence or a heated tussle in the sheets. It had been so uncomplicated and freeing ... until it wasn't. It had been a subtle, insidious little thing at first. Laughing at all his stupid jokes, texting and calling throughout the day about more than just partying and fucking ... and before long, he was occupying her thoughts all the damned time, from the moment she awoke until her head touched the pillow each night. It was all too familiar in the way that he made her feel warm and safe--a paradise that had already been poisoned once before by her own failures. Never again ... she could never risk getting that close again. And yet, as she tried to gently pull away, Visage found herself reeling with the realization of how hard and painful it was to re-establish that emotional distance between them. No matter how much she tried to withdraw, she still found herself instinctively reaching out for him, a yearning that made her chest ache. And the very thought of causing Blitz pain by pushing him away was an unthinkable agony that she couldn't even consider inflicting upon him. The line had become so damned blurred ... but she didn't have it in her to cut him off completely and return to the solitude. What the fuck, then, was she supposed to do...? Well, she was going to need to figure it out sooner rather than later, because unbeknownst to the morose Overlord, a familiar imp was already making his way through the crowd towards her table...

Fuck. Fuck, that rejection had been quick and complete. Blitz stood there for a moment, watching her go and just--fuck. Trying to process. What had he done wrong? Was it the affection behind the kiss? Behind all of this? Was she just embarrassed that he'd kissed her in front of people? His face burned in shame at the thought, memories of Ozzie's returning the humiliation all over again. A hand pulled away then, a body shoved away now. Was it really so different? People might want him in private, but in public...?

No. Fuck that. Blitz shut that thought down, reminding himself of everything he was starting to understand, all the little pieces he was starting to put together about her. Sure, it wasn't the whole picture, and he probably had put some pieces in the wrong places, but this woman? This woman was hurting inside. She was fighting to, what? Be left alone to suffer?

Was that what she really wanted?

If so, maybe there was a solution. Not a big solution, it wouldn't get them talking, because he wasn't about to spring serious emotional topics on someone during an S&M scene, but maybe it would help her. Maybe it would help them.

Blitz hurried to catch up. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the wrist to turn her to him--then immediately came up with a new plan. They were so damn close to the wall, he just pushed her against it. Not hard, and he sure as hell deserved a knee to the groin for it, but god damn it, he was going to fight, not beg, because if he begged with her? Visage was going to walk. She was going to let the darkness within rush up and take her, whatever it was from, whatever had happened, and she might never come out. So although this kind of roughness wasn't usually how he even considered treating his partners who were women, especially the ones who had been assigned female identifies at birth? He was doing it now. Holding her pinned, looking up, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Do you want to be punished, Viz? Is that what--"

No. Don't ask the rest of that, he told himself. If he asked it, she'd slam whatever part of her heart maybe wasn't already closed and locked. Stick to the filth. Stick to the physical. He shook his head, trying for a safer tactic. Well, emotionally safer for her--hopefully safe enough. Fuck, even if he couldn't do anything else for her, maybe he could give her this? A night of just goddamn surrendering, of stepping outside her pain?

Punishment she didn't deserve, for some crime she had probably never committed, but punishment he'd offer gladly if it would ease any of that ache that was slowly but surely fucking killing her, unless he was extremely fucking mistaken about what was happening with his baby.

So, forcing his tone to warm into something more playful and less emotional, Blitz shook his head.

"Couldn't figure it out at first, why you've been the way you have. But then I realized, maybe you're trying to show me you want to play. Maybe... you're being a brat. Looking for punishment. And maybe tonight, once you're free? You text me, I send you an address, and you show up, ready to check out for the night. We'll talk boundaries, I'll tell you..." The spade of his tail slid up her side, every bit as strong and dexterous as one of his hands, before slipping around her waist, "what I want to do to you. And for once, you don't think. Or feel. Or worry. You just let me blindfold you, and be there. Be my very, very good Visage."

Be mine and I will do anything and everything for you. Whatever it takes. Will a night of forgetting help you learn to trust me? Will it help you breathe, give you a moment of peace, away from the memories of Dhallia?

The sound of fast-approaching boot falls soon contrasted against the beat of the music strongly enough to warn the hellhound of Blitz's approach ... but not before he was already upon her, her head snapping up from her blank stare towards the table. Before she could even react, he was pulling her into a deep kiss that left her feeling emotionally concussed. Oh, they had shared more than a few hot and heavy kisses throughout their time together, it was true, but this ... was something entirely new that she didn't know how to process. This wasn't raw desire, this was something far more earnest ... and she once again found herself caught between painful longing and the instinctive need to run. This was danger ... this was vulnerability ... this was more than she deserved. Not from him, not from anyone. Not ever again. She'd had her chance and it was gone now. And you only have yourself to blame. It cut her like a knife to do it, but she sighed and shifted him off her lap while simultaneously sliding out of the booth to get to her feet, an expression somewhere pained grimace and an annoyed scowl creasing her lupine features. "Didn't I tell you that I'd call you after I got off work tonight...?" Too close. He was far too close. Physically, emotionally, in every conceivable way--down into the very marrow of her bones that did nothing but serve to further weigh down an anguished soul that was already far too heavy for any sane person to carry. To withdraw was a mercy, Visage convinced herself. Blitz only wanted her because he had yet to see the real her. The wounded wretch cowering pitifully beneath the badass party girl facade that everyone expected of her. It was better this way. It had to be this way. And yet... ...Even as she found herself starting to turn to walk towards the rear exit of the club--already mentally mapping her escape route towards the hallway that held the front door to her 'apartment'--some weak sentimental piece of her couldn't help but hope against all hope that even in the face of this rejection ... he would follow. For even as every cell in her body screamed 'Run and don't look back,' there remained the quietest of whispers, fragile and pleading, murmuring 'Don't give up on me.'

This had been an act, but it suddenly wasn't anymore; contact with his lover's body, the way she touched him back, the way she licked his throat, that beautiful sensuality in her voice? Blitz had no immunity against any of those things--no immunity against Visage. He adored this woman, and his body had no defenses against her; whenever she wanted to play him like an instrument, she could. Always. He swallowed hard, shivering a little as she got to him, as the arousal hit harder than he had been prepared for.

"All Daddy wants is you, babygirl," he whispered, the base of his spines already thickening against her touch. Blitz usually hated when people took the liberty of touching him there, but not Vizzy. Not Vizzy. When she did it, he loved it. When she did it, he was hers. No, she could touch him anywhere, any way she wanted to, and it always felt safe, like home--

Except, right now? It felt like one more thing, one terrifying thing.

It felt like they were flirting with the idea of one last time. Blitz was good at recognizing that. He'd been the one instigating it all too often. He had been the one preparing to say goodbye so many times. He knew the signs. He knew the little ways it changed things. He knew too much about it--and he knew it was happening now. But that was the point of all of this, wasn't it? They were standing on the edge of an abyss, and if she jumped, thinking she could dive down into that darkness alone? Blitz was going with her.

Until then, he had to act, to play the part.

It helped that she all but lit his body on fire.

"Maybe we got each other figured out," he replied, voice lower and rougher for her, heated by her, darker for her.

Meeting her eyes boldly, he took both of her wrists and gripped them tight in one hand, holding them down between their bodies; the imp's hands and forearms had a vise-like strength, and so although he was always gentle with her--unless there were times she wanted to be bruised--she might as well be manacled right now.

"Tonight..."

Without so much as looking away from her eyes to even pretend at being civilized, without a hint of shame, Blitz slid a hand inside her clothing, between her legs--up against her warmth. Mindful of his claws--always, always so damn careful with them--he caressed the pads of his fingers against her, gentle and patient, familiar.

"Text me when you finish your work. Then get changed into something you don't mind me ruining. Don't worry about what you'll put on after, I'll have something for you." Attentive little circles, Satan what he wouldn't give to be doing this with his tongue right now instead. "I'll send you an address. You show up exactly where the text says, kneel, and wait. It won't take long. When I show up? You will be mine. You'll do whatever I ask. You won't have to think. You won't have to feel." Blitz kissed her throat, but then bit it, holding it between his sharp fangs--the pressure not quite enough to break the skin, but damn close. He only held on for a moment before he let go and kissed again, softer kisses, everywhere he knew a fang had threatened to pierce.

He loved this woman. Fuck, he loved this woman. He wanted to make sweet, passionate, goddamned vanilla love to her--but that wasn't what she needed. At all. And so until it was? Blitz was going to be her imp, to be whatever it took for her to not need to run.

"You will do whatever I ask you to do, because you know you need to be punished. You've been a brat, and Daddy can't let you get away with that. There will be pain--impact play, some of it will sting--but you won't be injured. You'll be safe. And afterwards? Babygirl, after, I will hold you down and fuck you from behind until you don't want to think anymore, until your legs are jelly, until there's nothing but a slick mess between your thighs, until you're shaking.

"No romance. No thinking. Nothing but fucking 'til we're both all better, even if it hurts.

"Say yes, Daddy. Then kiss me, shove me away, and I'll go--and I'll look forward to that text, babygirl."

Confused emotions bounced like ping-pong balls inside the Overlord's mind, flitting from confusion to anger, flashes of masochistic desire, heartfelt longing, then pivoting to guilt before the crazed cycle began anew. It felt like only Blitz could coax this level of insanity from the depths of her truest self, and that grim realization felt even more damning when she knew just how badly she wanted him to stay. Needed him to challenge her rejections, to pursue her regardless of how far she tried to run. But in that moment...? She was tired. Visage didn't have the strength left in her to run anymore tonight. And, if he was going to give her such an easy excuse to stay, would it really be so wrong...? Another night she would muster the courage to get away and end this before it went too far. For now, she could pretend everything was still uncomplicated and free. One last time. Something dark and familiar swept over those luminous silver eyes as she stared back at him, one of her hands sliding up under the back of his shirt in response to that slithering tail, to caress across scarred crimson skin until the tips of her claws teased at the base of his spines. "Damn..." the hellhound murmured, tone low and sultry, barely audible over the crowds and the pulsing beats. "...Got me figured out, mm...? Whatever Daddy wants, he'll get." The she-wolf's head dipped low as the flat of her tongue dragged hard up the side of Blitz's neck, tracing the line of his pulse in one long lick. Surely there wasn't any harm in getting him even more riled up while he had to wait for her, right...? If this was going to be their final hurrah, she'd best make sure it was a damned good one.