D had been prepared to let her down gently, with the consolation that he would be able to hold her as she slept, at least. But this sudden display of boldness certainly caught him off guard. Doris' mouth snapped closed, likely surprised by herself, if the intensifying color in her ears was any indication.
And yet she held his gaze, unblinking, a shuddering breath stealing up her chest. She bit her lip, enclosing an unspoken question behind a supple moue.
Was she doubting herself, or him?
Or was she seeing something in gaze, a glint of that primordial hunger that her words had ignited in his belly?
D's hands tightened into fists at his sides. The movement did not escape her notice. As if answering, she wrung the scarf until she could feel the sharp twist of it against her calloused fingers. The sensation helped ground her, her mind still going a thousand miles a second as she tried to process what she had said.
It had come out so naturally, so easily.
She was a rancher. It was the only life she had ever known. So the idea of using a restraint in a situation such as this–to restrain–seemed entirely logical. It wasn't until her words pierced the air did she realize there were other implications.
Mortification began to mount, closing off her throat. Immediately, she looked to see his reaction, only to be struck by what she saw there.
The gentle warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced with a blazing sheen that threatened to stop her heart in her chest.
The air around them crackled and quaked with his aura. He had gone completely still once again, the subtle rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he hadn't turned to a statue before her eyes. Even his eyes remained still, lids hooded just enough by those lovely lashes to dim the growing glow in their depths.
He was watching her. Gauging her reaction. This apex predator, roused by the idea of playing at prey.
And it made her wet.
She licked her lips.
Slowly, deliberately, she took his wrist and guided him to the bed. He sat stiffly when the back of his legs met the frame, his eyes never leaving hers. She placed a knee between his thighs, her hands coming down on either side of him, her throat inches from the tip of his nose. She moved over him. He followed her lead, sliding up the length of the bunk until he sat with his back against the metal headboard. The frame squeaked softly as she splayed her legs over his, straddling him.
The caramel curtain of her hair fell over his chest when she leaned forward to kiss his clavicle. His hands remained firm at his sides, the soft warmth of her skin and breath a sublime temptation as she pressed into him, lithe muscles coiling over his thighs, his hips. The feverish heat between her legs told him that she was ready for him once more. He could tumble her back and bury himself inside of her before she could even let out a gasp.
An unfamiliar tension wracked his body at the thought, an unnerving cord of pleasure stringing between his throbbing fangs and eager cock. The feeling was disturbing enough to rattle him for his rapturous reverie, his hands fisting tighter into the mattress beneath him as he tried to push it away.
Doris appeared oblivious to his unrest, her lips and teeth seeking to devour him. He had no choice but to obey her prodding, his thoughts scattered, when she lifted his arms up over his head. The metal of the headboard was cool against his wrists.
Doris found D's typical resistance lacking, his movements now soft and amenable as she placed one of his wrists atop the other. Her senses were hyper focused, heightened by the novelty of their position. She could feel his taut manhood between her thighs, the rigid curve of it arching so perfectly against her mound.
His breath whispered against her collarbone as she leaned over him, scarf in hand. It almost sounded like words, but she did not know the language, all vowels and sorrow. She glanced down to see that he had his eyes closed lightly, the slight furrow of his brow so serene and subtle that she had to kiss it. His expression relaxed minutely, his normal cool facade resurfacing.
Doris straightened the length of the scarf, considering. A simple cow hitch knot would be easiest but would not offer any real resistance, especially to a man of D's stature and strength. But the simple fabric was not long enough for something as secure as a fiador, either. Ultimately, she decided on a constrictor knot, the scarf shushing over metal and flesh as she pulled the end tight. D exhaled at the sensation.
"Is it too tight?" Doris asked, uncertainty in her hasty tone.
"No." His voice had gone low and rough. She shivered at the sound, fresh exhilaration making her head feel light.
Pinned and tied, she stared down at the glorious body of the Hunter beneath her. The cascading swell of his muscle began just below his neckline, rippling up his shoulders and arms, down to his chest. The span of his obliques in this position made him seem impossibly large, his rib cage expanding with every breath.
She ran her hands up his sides, mesmerized by the sheer tensile strength of each muscle, hard as carven marble. The countless years–decades, centuries?-it must have taken him to curate such enormous strength…
And yet here he was, bared beneath her, the peerless Vampire Hunter D. Hers for the taking.
Hsr mouth watered at the sight, an idea surfacing.
"D," she breathed with scarcely concealed hunger. He titled his head back and cracked his eyes half-opened. Onyx and firelight. "Can I…?" She touched the waist of his trousers, fingers spreading lower to brush the bulge there.
He pulled the fabric at his wrists taut, testing its strength. His lips parted. "Yes."
Doris loosened his fly, her touch intent but not hurried. She pulled his trousers down with minimal assistance, and soon she found herself nestled between his knees, his drooling member bobbing before her.
She froze, nervousness returning tenfold as she realized she did not know how to proceed. Her hands hovered uncertainly, half-afraid to touch despite her smoldering lust.
How do I…?
Her eyes met his, doubt plain on her face. Of course, she didn't know what to do.
He would have to guide her.
"Grab it by the base," he said around, hoarse with desire. Her small hand gripped the base of his penis, her fingers encircling about half his length. "Tighter," he murmured, "with both hands."
Her other hand came up to meet his flesh and she squeezed, earning a low moan from the Hunter. His chin tipped up, the sharp hint of fangs glinting in the firelight as his lips parted.
Pleased with the reaction she wrought, Doris moved her hands experimentally, maintaining a firm grip. She quickly realized the friction of skin on skin here would be uncomfortable for such sensitive flesh, with D's body only providing a nominal amount of lubrication to help in her efforts. Her loins pulsed at the idea of moistening his manhood within herself.
But she had other plans.
His head was still tilted up, eyes closed, as he resisted the urge to tear at his makeshift bonds. Her touch was maddening, stirring that dark desire within him to take what was so sweetly offered. How easy, how delicious–
The hot, velvet slide of Doris' tongue slid over the tip of his cock, splintering his sanity.