Rocked against the hard ridge of him. “Tan impaciente.” she chided softly, a smirk playing on her lips. She planted one knee beside his hip and the other between his legs, and lowered herself over him. Like dusk swallowing the last line of the horizon.

“Make you mine?” A soft laugh escaped her. “Garrod, look at you.” she whispered and pressed her thigh against his bulge. “Thrown back on the bed,” she went on. “pouting… panting.. arching… giving me that look, eno encantado querido." She finally rose to her knees over him, slow as moonlight.

"You’re already mine."

Her hands found his hips, her fingers hooking the waistband of his legwear. She inched the trousers downward. Piece by piece, she peeled them off him, past his hipbones, over the strong line of his thighs. Bent her head. Her lips pressed a kiss to the inside of his knee. Her tongue darted out, a quick, wet stripe against his skin, tasting the salt of him. Her breath thin, vision pulsing at the edges with want.

She drew the last piece of his clothes down the rest of the way, sliding them off his legs with a final whisper of cloth. Then she tossed them aside, carelessly, decisively, joining the disgarded pile of armour on the floor.

Pale eyes looked down at him, taking in how he’d thrown himself open, how he’d offered himself without a shred of hesitation. Utterly hers. A low, appreciative sound hummed in her throat. Appraising what had been laid upon her altar. How the sight of him bound and waiting made her pulse hammer against her ribs like it wanted out.

“Saints and devils alike would envy me,” she murmured. “Having you offered up like this.” He was stretched out before her like something she should have taken already if she were the creature he kept calling her. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to just take. Every last thought in her skull burned out by him. Quickly stripped the last layers of clothes from her skin. The linen fell from her fingers, weightless, unlike the hunger that pressed tight between her legs.
 
Breath felt like steam pouring through his teeth. Fingers squeezing and pulsing, squeezing and pulsing. as she went on... teasing him.

Pulling out a roll of wicked laughter with the sinful shift of her hips, and the knowing smirk on her lips. Had his breath all flutter of wings when her leg slipped between his and she poured herself over him, all tangled nightfall, and heated storm clouds.

Her laugh, her whisper. The press of her thigh against his aching want. Had him rumble from the back of his throat. Legs coiled about the meat of her. Squeezed back and worked himself against her. Rhythmic and pulsing. The whole of his set to hitches and squirms. Shoulders worked one way, then the other as she went on. Laying out all his wretched failings so she could just drink them down all the better.

Eye full of her. Lungs panting. Lips pouting. Spine arching, and arching as he bit down his bottom lip and she rose up, all proud, glorious, triumph.

'You're already mine'

His breath quivered. Lips trembled. And the bottom fell out of him. Whole body went slack against her with a shudder and a shiver down his spine. Grinned too wide as he stared from behind the mess of his hair. "Fuck," the word carved out of him like a rune he knew would fail.

Her hands worked fast, until they didn't.

Pealed him open, and stripped him down, slow. Had him hitching against the sudden cool doing next to nothing against all the sticky heat. Wet mess of a stiff mushroom that popped right up as soon as it could. Drooling all over with shameless desire.

Then she kissed him. Licked him. Cool of her spit drawing his eye down and pulling the breath out of him. Spine curling with the want to reach down and grab her. Pull her up so he could kiss her. Bite her. Take that tongue as deep as she'd give it. And everything else she wanted to lay on him.

"Fucking, Daniyah," he moaned as he splayed and moved in desperate, powerless, rubs against her with whatever part of him could still feel her. Toes knuckled, ankles curling, heels hooking. The cool glide of the sheets under his superhot skin. Face rubbing against the mattress, if only to pretend it was her hand.

The last bit of his cloth fell off. His breath grew tight, and his eye found her again. The whole of him heaving and swelling as she took him in with those gimlet eyes.

“Saints and devils alike would envy me... Having you offered up like this.”

"Santa Maldicion," he teased behind his blush warmed cheeks. "Mirando me con esos ojos," his whole body worked to easy, lazy, shift. Arms still taught behind him. One leg splayed opened, the other a sure plank as he beckoned. "Silver pools that make the stars know envy," she dropped his linens. And he smirked. Sharp as a smoke glass knife. As he eyed the glistening wet between her thighs. "Vamos pues, Bruja," he said all fire roasted chiles and rumbling thunder through his teeth. "Come take what's yours,"
 
Garrod was the crackle in the air, the charged hush before the heavens split, the dark sky. Every breath he dragged in was a rumble of distant thunder. Every exhale tasted like the wind that comes just before the downpour.

She was already halfway lost in the gale he stirred in her. Building pressure with every heartbeat.

His hands tugged against the binding, muscles flexing. Lightning trapped behind a cloud. She felt the force of him even restrained. Coiled, charged, ready to break free and tear the sky wide open. His hips lifted beneath her with a slow roll that punched the air from her lungs. The bed creaked beneath the tension of his body lifting toward hers. Heat shot through her spine, her belly, her throat. Like she was breathing fire. Burning for him just as badly as he was burning for her.

"Come take what's yours..."

Like a mare she climbed over him, her knees on either his hips. The heat of her, a brand just inches from his aching flesh.
She leaned forward, and captured his mouth in another searing kiss. Deep, consuming as the storm crested inside her. Knees pressed tighter to his sides.

“Sabes qué eres, Garrod…?”

Her body met his in a slow, claiming press, her hips to meet his. One of her hands reached between them, guided him into her. It was a slow, devastating slide that stole the world. Hips sinking with the inevitability of rainfall meeting earth. Tight, silky, wet, warm, stretching to take all of him. A guttural groan was torn from her throat. Deep, broken, reverent. Made her spine bow and her head fall forward. Her hands planted on his chest for leverage.

“Mi mala suerte. Serás mi muerte.”

Because he looked up at her like a man born of lightning, and the hunger in his eye was enough to soften her bones.
 
Heart thumped like thunder at the ends of her finger tips. All of him gathered up. Pulled to her want. Searing. Dripping. Sweet promise all along the edges of him. Could smell it full swirling in his breath, even through the lavender oil, and honey soap. Her scent. Filled him like it belonged. Like it had never left.

She scooped him up. Scattered him against her lips as he rocked and ran, and pumped for her. Hot. Heavy. Fluid. Her tongue. Como cenizas al viento. Lodo en el rio. Todo un remolino de ardor.

Where her mouth began and his ended was like some viscous dream he didn't dare wake up from. But how it scraped at him. Teeth and buds. Cinders crackling down his lungs. Sparks spidering across his skin as the bounds of leather still creaked against him. And his arms, and chest, and whole of him coiled and strained to her as she drove her knees into him.

Whispered something secret to him. And he just moaned against her ear. "Que, mi amor?"

She came low. Came close. And he wrapped around her. Head all crazy for every bit of silky whisp of river reed that met him. Cheek to cheek. Ear to bone.

Her hand gripped him, felt her finger bones all throbbing through his veins, and pounding in his heart. He hitched. Whined as she squeezed. Made little noises like pleas as she guided him in to all that warm oblivion. Like prayers to the moon. To have him, just as she gave herself to him. Breath shucked out of him as she came down. Slow and agonizing as she drowned him in the deep end with her grind and her groan.

Breath ripped from his chest in a panicked moan like a man ready to die. Ragged excitement through his teeth as he remembered to breath. She bared her hands onto him. Heart hammering like it wanted to give itself to her. Bloody and breathless through his bones.

Mi mala suerte.

His eye opened wide to the haze of her

Serás mi muerte.

Felt a tremble at his lip. A well of salt spilling over amidst all the sweet smithereens they made with each little hinge, and drive to the bones. Head to hers. Coiled all greed and want as his lips peeled off. Kissed her cheek. Whispered soft.

"No me digas eso," he begged, too sweet. "Cuando te sientes tan buena con migo," he said steadier through the ragged shudder in his chest. "Como lluvia entre mis huesos quemados," He kissed her. Hands desperate to grab at her. Hold her. Strained the more against the binds. But she'd tied it too well. So he went on kissing her.

Again, and again. And through the little gaps of lips press, and snuck breaths twisted there with all the heaven they found. "Don't tell me how we'll die," he let his head fall back so he could see her. Let his body go, soft and easy as he stared at her, like she was the world world entire to him. "Tell me how we'll live,"
 
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Tied down, helpless under her, wrists bound in leather, chest rising in frantic, starving pulls of air… and she was the one who broke first. Just small words. "Come take what's yours.” It had slid out of him like a dare, like a promise, like a hand around her throat, and every shred of control she pretended to have had shattered. Her pulse slammed hard enough to bruise her veins. She tie him down, and still, still, he commanded her. She hated that he could do this to her with a single breath, hated it, wanted it, and needed it.

Daniyah dragged her lips down the line of his throat, tasting the pulse under his skin. That small hurt he tried to swallow.
Mi mala suerte. He’d taken it like a bruise to the heart. She lifted her head. “Be glad, witches don’t deal with good fortunes.” She smirked. Her mouth dipped to his lips again, her breath hot as embers. She pressed her forehead to his. Her nails raked lightly down his chest, along muscles tight. “That’s faerie work...”

Braced her hands beside his head. Hips settling against his in a slow, claiming grind. “And I would break every mirror in my way, curse myself.." She kissed him hard, swallowing his breath. “just to have you beneath me like this.” Her thumb brushed his lower lip.

"Don't tell me how we'll die, tell me how we'll live,"

Straightened her back, pausing fully seated, looking down. They traded in danger. He looked at her as if he wished her to whisper sweet nothings to him. Her voice crawled over him like the edge of steel. “In fire and blood, in the wild dark places the world fears. Fighting." Aferrándonos unos a otros incluso cuando el mundo intenta separarnos.

“We’ll live in the mess we make,” she breathed. “in the danger, in the hunger, in every reckless choice that leads us back to each other.”
 
"In fire and blood..."

"Maldita sea" he hissed through flame cracked grin. Vos como miel picosa. Rolled his head in delighted agony. He couldn't hide how much he liked the stab of it. How he knew what he was. Trails of her nails still raked across the plane of his chest. Red lines where twisted white hairs caught the cool air that swirled between all the heat bleeding between their bodies. The sweat. Gathering in the lines of them.

Bit his lip where he could still feel her thumb's press.

Felt all of himself rising to meet her. Duelist to the challenge. Cazadore to the hunt. Steel for steel. If she would go, he would go. Bad luck and all. He'd be a monster for her, if it meant seeing her through. In all her terrifying glory.

"We'll live in the mess we make...in every reckless choice that leads us back to each other.”

Something else inside him cracked. Cold giving away to warmth. Pain, balmed by honey. He hummed. Too pleased with it all. Smiled small, bashful, face red as a rose in the shroud light.

"Your bloody hips," he moaned through his teeth as he watched how her shift and press to the rhythm they set. Slow and steady as he moved under her with long wet rasps between each hinge of his digging hips. Felt her choked around his heat. Give. All velvet and wet. About his cock. "Are making a right mess of me right now," he shuddered a toothy laugh. "And your so far away," he cooed, crackled of lightning. Brought his to slap against her ass. Trying to buck her closer to him as all the rest of him coiled up to her. A storm devil's look in his eye. "Ven paca," he rumbled. All blood and fire and snap of longing teeth.
 
His words rolled through her like lightning, bright and dangerous under the skin. His need pulled at her, like the air just before a thunderclap. She felt him straining upward.

“You want me closer?” she gasped softly. “Then take me, Fiend Bearer." Her smile curved like a sickle moon.

He bucked, all restless lightning. Daniyah met him halfway with a low sound in her throat, pressed her chest to his. Heart slamming against heart. Their mouths a breath apart. Her fingers slid into his hair. She came down to him, hips rolling to meet the storm he drove up into her, drawing a sharp, needy cry from her throat. Daniyah’s pulse kicked, sharp as a lightning fork.

She slid her hand up, along the thick cord of his arm. Felt the tremor running through him like a current, felt the strength caged under skin. She followed the lines of him all the way to his wrists, to the leather loop she’d knotted tight around the bedpost. Her fingers hovered there, grazing the strained binding with a question. “Maybe I should leave you bound?” she whispered.
 
"Then take me, Fiend Bearer"

"Evil," he pant as she moved down to him. "wicked," he laughed, against the slow rumble in her throat. "Wraithbinder," he growled it like a curse that branded him through the smile cut across his teeth as their bones ground together. A pitch, a dip. Reveling in the warm frills and slick grind of her. All wet mortar to hard pestle.

Heart thump. Thump. Thumping against his bones as they moved. All hiss and beg through the gushing press. Felt like so much grind, scattered through yes, and yeah, and laughs turned to dusted moan. Breath spilled out as her fingers traced lines and swells, and bones. All tingle and chilied spark.

"Maybe I should leave you bound?"

"Yeah?" bounced out the back of his throat as he wriggled and shift. Heart thumping so hard in its cage. Hungry to feel the thumps of her heart calling out to his. "Maybe you should, Daniyah" her name hissed out of him like his last breath scraped out from the bottom of his gut.

His teeth snatched at the skin about her neck. Bit. Nibbled. Kissed. "Gods know I deserve it," he whined. Kissed her nape."I've been such a bad Cazadore," Scraped his stubble across her collar bone, breath all dragged in ragged hitch. "I've been so bad to you," laughed, unrepentant. "You need to teach me a lesson," he begged. Voice tight as he pressed himself close. Body still moving, still building the climb, pump after smooth, ass jiggling, pump. Slap after slow resounding slap. Breath desperate, hungry. He hinged faster. Dipped harder. Lightning up his spine.

Hands clenching to fists. "Oh but I want to slap that ass," He groaned louder with a tearing want that rattled through clenched teeth. Knees bent, heels dug in, toes gripping into the mattress as he drove. Breath swirl and wash between the nothing that separated them. Just atoms of charged storm between them. He flexed his arms and pulled himself up by the binds, stomach lifting her up and up as he planked against her. Laughing and grinning, as he moans beneath her. "Maldita bruja, me estas ahogando."
 
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His body was a taut bow, his back arched, his heels digging into the bedding for some semblance of leverage he would never fully find.

I’ve been such a bad Cazadore... You need to teach me a lesson...

Daniyah uncoiled. A viper rising. For a moment, she simply looked at him, every shameless word he spilled hung between them. Her weight shifted, her own slickness a hot glide against his skin as she twisted atop him. His mouth was still open, still moving, still talking, still begging, when her hand, quick as a thought, cracked against his cheek in a clean, ringing slap.

Before he would say another word, plead or praise or push his luck, her hand slid down and clamped hard over his mouth. Fingers on the soft part of his cheek, thumb pressing into the heat of his cheekbone, holding him still, holding him quiet. Her palm pressed hard, muffling any sound, any further plea. Pressing his head back into the pillow.

“Shut. Up.”

She began to move, not the languid, rolling grind from before. A rising rhythm. Slap. Slap. Slap. The wet, rhythmic sound of their joining. Every downward plunge dragged a light, needy groan from her. So filled, so stretched, so utterly connected to the man writhing like a worm beneath her.

Her fingers slipped from his mouth, leaving his breath rushing out against her wrist. She didn’t pull away entirely. Instead, her hand drifted down, tracing the heat of him, the tension of him, until her fingers hooked around the strong column of his throat.. His pulse throbbed wild beneath her thumb. Grip tightened.

“Drowning?” she wondered.
 
Smothering, grounding. Mouth ajar. Teeth bared to all the haze steaming between them. Poison still coursing through his blood.

Slap.

His eye wide. Ears still hearing the sound work across the room. Teeth flashed wider as he coiled up the more to meet her. Gagged down with a thwump. Her hand around his mouth so hard it forced his breath out of his nose in choked jets against her pressing palm.

Burried him down. "Shut. Up."

A roll of laughter boiled through his drunken bones. Soundless save the muted bass that shook against her skin. With her weight, she worked him into dust. Didn't feel a damn thing past the ache. The fullness of it all. Fucking fire wrapped in molten honey.

Slapping and slapping. His head swam as he watched her. Eye hazy. Cheeks red. Giving and giving.

Gagging press of palm, and spidered grip of fingers fell away. And his breath gushed out like blood from a wound. Hot and thick. Sticky across his own lips. His face. Burning red. Felt her fingers grip about his neck. Thumb and forefinger pressed. Just enough to have him wheeze out a pitiful little gasp.

Drowning?

He just smiled. All too happy. "For more," words steamed out, all lilt and hungry blush faced grin.

Didn't stop moving. Didn't stop following the rhythm she set.
 
Then she saw it in his eye.
Blown wide, pupil swallowing up the green, the gold, fever-bright, storm-wild, bliss-drunk.

He wanted more?

Fool.
Another slap, harder.

"Oh, you like that?” she hissed. “Being twisted up like this? Held down?”

He was smiling, which only made her move harder, driving him down into the mattress with her weight, her hips, her grip. Her chest tightened. Pressure rising, rising, rising. Her fingers snugged tighter at his throat, thumb pressing just beneath his jaw, stealing the clean line of his next inhale. She felt his apple bob against her palm in a reflexive swallow.

"Look at you... Eres una cosito rara," she teased.

The closer she leaned, the more it built. A tightening spiral.

Watched a hunger with its own wind, watched for the first flicker of real panic bloom in their depths, the instinctual need to fight for air. Watched the way his eyes glazed, not with pleasure, but with a dazed intensity. She relaxes her grip, just a fraction, allowing a sip of air to flood his lungs. Before he could even fully draw a second breath, her hand tightened again.

“Come on then, Cazadore” she growled, as she slammed her hips down on him. “Make a fucking mess."
 
The world about her. Blurred in technicolor pops that washed into a warm and welcoming nothing. Breath ragged. Hard taken. Silver eyes burned down at him.

The squeeze. About his pulse. About his neck. About his cock. Tighter and tighter. The ache in his shoulders. In his elbows. Feet digging against the mattress.

Body moving on instinct. Following the pleasure of it all. The glide. Slip. grind and squeeze between each pound. And sticky slap. His lungs kicked, hips bucked. She eased up. Eye bloomed wide. A slip of a breath pours into his lungs. Fire given just a bit more fuel.

Come on then, Cazadore... Make a fucking mess.

Squeezed tighter and tighter. "F-uhhuk," choked out. Bit down on the inside of his cheek. Pain spurred him forward. Ass slapping down, and down on his bones. Fat spreading sticky wetness across the base of his fat heat. Face still stinging from the slaps. Sweat trailing down his brow. Cock throbbing in pulses that streamed through every river in his veins, and stomach tight as all his muscles flexed to hold on.

Some part of him remembered.

Being breathless. At the brink of tearing. Going past the break. All the messes he had made.

A guttural sound rattled out of the pit of him. It was like a tear right down through the middle of all he was. Whole body snapped up to her. Spine arched, bone dug down to bown. Strained against the chords of his own sinew and flesh. Leather chord squeaking. Spilled out.

He shout out. Some ecstatic, breathless, murdered curse. Gasped and hollowed out. Gush after hot gush.

Fell back in a smoldering heap. Twitched. Shivered. An utter wreck. Panting. Breathing. Feelings all firing in chaotic rainbow of sensations.

"Me mataste," he pant. Pant. Strung up and twisted. Grinned as he lulled in the moment.
 
A tide she could ride and be carried along with. The ripples of his release still licked at the edges of her. His spilling overflowed, out of her like sea foam. Kept one hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid drum of his heartbeat. Slowly, she relaxed her other hand, the one that had been a ring around his throat. Her fingers uncurled, one by one. The pale marks of her fingers stood out against the flushed skin of his neck, a temporary mark.

His eye, when he finally focused on hers, was a universe of spent pleasure.

She lifted herself off him. Didn’t go far, knelt beside him on the rumpled bedding, her attention turned to his bound wrists. The buckle pressed into the underside of his wrists. The skin around it was reddened, marked by strain and struggle. The metallic clink of the buckle. The long, slow sssshhhht as she pulled the belt free from the bedpost. She drew the leather away, pulling the belt free from his wrists with a soft sound. Tossed it aside, now no longer needed.

Her hands slid under his arms, lifted his heavy limbs, easing them down on the blanket beside his hips. She massaged the inside of his wrists with her thumbs, small, soothing circles over the indented skin where the leather had bitten deepest.

"Me mataste,"

“You begged for it.”

She leaned over him, ashen hair brushing his chest. She placed a soft, lingering kiss on the center of his forehead. Then one on each brow. Then the tip of his nose, before she collapsed beside him, the bed dipping under their combined weight. Her limbs felt like softened wax, every muscle trembling from how much she’d poured into him this day. Again and again until she had nothing left but breath.
 
"You begged for it."

A huff of a laugh. Like a ghost leaving his body. "I did,"

The trace of her hair tickling against his chest. All gentle drag across flesh and bones. Kisses like little splashes of rain against skin that felt made of spent ash. "Can swear I feel myself sizzling," he said with a hazy smirk. "Proper cooked."

Head swimming as she sunk down right next to him. Soft and easy against him.

He lift a hand. Arm felt like it was made of lead. But each breath pulled into him helped lift it up and up until he could trace his finger tips across the sweat sticky slip of her shoulder, down her arm. A pleased groan as he turned toward her. Kissed her on the shoulder.

"Y tu que?" he said. Lungs billowing life back into his dead weight. Propped himself up. Trailed another kiss up her collar. Down to the center of her chest. Let his ear rest on her heart, green eye on her, the ruined nest of his left, against her bones.

His fingers rolled down the landscape of her ribs. Slid over hip, callouses scraped over thigh. Fingers played about the wetness spilling out of her. Slick and sticky. His breath pumped with hers. His fingers played with her lips. He kissed the soft scar adorned skin beneath him.

"Toda via estas viva," he grinned, soft as the curl of a knife.
 
She felt the words rise, sharp as a blade, tender as a bruise. They pressed against her teeth, begging to be spoken, begging to be real. Daniyah let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound more like a sigh of wind through dry reeds.

“I… I’m just tired,” voice thick with the haze of tonight and too much him. She shifted slightly, curling closer, letting the weight of herself rest against him. Her heart thumped hard and fast under his ear. Wanted to tell him everything, how her chest ached with it, how her thoughts were all tangled by him.

But the words felt like a curse.
Saying them felt like summoning ruin.
So she didn’t. A broken sigh left her lips.

"Toda via estas viva,"

His fingers painting sensation on her oversensitive flesh. A sharp, hissed intake of breath. “Ah!” Her hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk. A weak moan escaped her. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed, sizzled from the inferno they’d just survived. Her hands, which had lain limp at her sides, rose to tangle in his white, sweat-damp hair. Anchoring herself to him, the rise and fall of his chest the only rhythm she needed. A thumb traced slow circles over the back of his neck.

"Podría morir ahora mismo y sería feliz" whispered and pressed closer, her fingers threading through his hair.
 
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