Can you tell me now? (Darius) - Darius and Crew

He smiled.

"I believe I can make that work."

She giggled hopefully.

"We are alone, now."

He laughed softly.

"Oh, you wish it now?"

She bit her lip again and nodded, blushing lightly.

"If it's not too forward."

He chuckled softly.

"Elizabeth, I will never punish you for forwardness when there is something that you want. But I do not like to be rude and invade the minds of my people, which is why I can honestly say that with you, I cannot read your mind. Come here, little one. I will always encourage you to do as you please and take what it is that you want."

She moved to wrap her arms around his neck, straddling his lap.

"I will try, but taking is not my forte."

Then she was kissing him. It was an expert kiss, one that asked him to take her.

His arms wrapped around her and he drew her into a long, deep kiss. It was both sweet and sensual at once, a soft growl coming from his throat. He was pleased again -- pleased that she was no shy, blushing virgin. Even if she was a little shy or a little blushing. She knew what she was doing and that pleased him. His hands warmed against her back as he held her, letting her feel the heat that was her domitor. His mouth was warm and sweet under hers and he pulled away from the kiss to meet her eyes with a slight growl.

"Not your forte? You don't want me?"

She mewled when he broke the kiss, then her eyes flashed and she growled slightly in return.

"Mine."

Her hand grabbed the back of his head and she pulled him back into the kiss. She bit at his lower lip, then her tongue pushed it's way into his mouth.

He answered her growl with his own. She kissed him and nipped at his lip, his mouth opening so that he could feel the caress of her tongue against him. But there was a violence to it, too. Not just a normal kiss, she felt the bite of his teeth against her tongue, just so he could spill a bit of her blood into their joined mouths. And his own, just in case she wanted a taste of him. His hands weren't idle, reaching up to rip at her clothing. He didn't care about clothing. He could buy her more. If she wanted him as hers, she really should be careful what she wished for.

He started to rip her clothes, and that seemed to spur her on. She sucked lightly, taking his blood into her mouth, loving the taste of it. And she didn't heal her own tongue, letting him taste her as much as he wanted. Her hands twisted into his hair, holding him tightly.

It appeared she liked violent.

If it was violence she wanted, she would find it there. In his arms, even this sweet time was tinged with the violence, the danger, of the man who held her. Her hands in his hair made him growl, a low sound of both danger and pleasure, his mouth leaving hers to trail little bites over the line of her jaw and down to her throat. He bit her -- no fangs, but enough to hurt -- his hips pressing upward to let her feel him through his pants. Quite large, he was, his hands trailing down over her hips to slide between them for just a moment -- cupping her heat and feeling the soft folds of her flesh against his warm, strong fingers.

She turned her head to let him have more access to her neck, nails moving to rip at his shirt. She was strong, and the fabric ripped easily. Then her nails were digging into his back as his hand found her inner folds, finding her wet and ready. She enjoyed the pain, gasping and pressing into him.

"Yes, more."

He growled as he placed sharp bites along her throat. He wasn't using his fangs -- it wasn't about feeding for the Baali. It was about something entirely different, his fingers pressing inside of her to stretch her for him. His growl was soft but she could easily hear it, his back arching to press into the bite of her nails. There was nothing sweet about the way he pulled her against him, nothing kind or loving. He was much more interested in giving her what she seemed to seek and if it was violence she wanted... he was more than happy to give her that.

She was tight, perhaps a little too tight for him, so it was a good thing he was stretching her out. Her scratches became harsher, and her teeth found his shoulder, biting hard and sharp. Then her hands were moving to rip at his pants, for a moment trying to undo them at the button, then giving up and just ripping. They were in her way, and she wanted them gone. They could both afford to have them replaced.

Oh, he wasn't worried about replacing a pair of pants. The fingers inside of her pulled apart, stretching her even wider -- to the point of hurting her. Because no, he wasn't being gentle. He knew she didn't want him to be. But there was a heat in it, the growl that came from his throat when her teeth found him and sank into his flesh. He arched into her mouth, his hips shifting so she could fully tear the fabric of his ruined pants away from his body. He groaned again, sharp little bites being placed along her shoulder as he moved her, positioned her over top of him. No words; he didn't need them. His growls and moans should be enough.

She gasped as he stretched her, throwing her head back for a moment as her muscles protested the new placement. But she didn't seem to be in pain, merely a tad uncomfortable. Her hands moved to his shoulders, clenching tight to brace herself as she was positioned above him. She had felt his size, and moved to cup his tip, to give him a guide.

This was going to hurt in such a beautiful way, and her head raised again to watch him.

His eyes were open. That was the odd thing about it. His eyes were open, watching her face. He groaned a little as he felt her hand around him, holding and guiding him. He growled for her, let her hear his pleasure as his fingers stretched her. Oddly, his fingers didn't pull away from her. Not even a little. Instead, he was using his fingers as a guide of his own, pressing inside of her between the fingers that was holding her open. Oh, it was going to hurt. But it was a different kind of pain than what he usually gave to her. This was a pain that was mixed with pleasure, rather than letting the pain be its own pleasure. He pressed inside of her, giving her time to adjust to the feel of both himself and his fingers inside of her.

All the while, watching her face. Seeing her reaction.

She tried, hard, to keep his gaze as he pushed his way inside her. But the pain mixed with pleasure became too much and her lips parted in a moan as her eyes fluttered shut. Stretching around him was difficult, but he had tried to prepare her. He was thick, very thick. The thickest she had ever taken. Her vaginal walls protested, clenching, trying to push him out. But every time he stopped pushing forward, she wiggled until she settled around him. And every time she became comfortable again, she gave a slight nod and opened her eyes again.

She was not passive in her own taking. She just couldn't truly take control of something this big without rupturing something.

At least, for the moment, he was taking it easy. He didn't shove his way inside of her painfully. He let her take her time, let her take him little by little. He felt her stretch around him, his lips moving to her throat to press little kisses against her flesh. He didn't move, not right away. Letting her take as much of him at a time as she could handle, along with his fingers. He chuckled against her skin, a soft sound of pleasue.

"Good girl. Such a good girl."

She moaned at the praise, and pushed down a little bit more. This caused her to cry out in pain and pleasure, head falling back as her entire body shuddered at the invasion. She clenched, then released, then pushed down again. A tear pushed from the corner of her eye, her face screwed up as her breathing accelerated and grew hoarse. She was panting, but she wanted to please him. To prove that she could take him.

His lips, soft against her face, kissed her tears away. Slowly, his fingers started to move -- to help stretch her more for him. Oh, he knew it likely hurt, but it would be good for her in the long run. He was letting her take her time, his mouth soft against her cheeks, against her eyes. Then a gentle kiss against her lips.

"My girl. My gorgeous girl. You're doing so well. Such a good girl."

His voice was a soft whisper, encouragement. He wasn't upset with her -- and while he didn't sound particularly pleased at the moment, he was still greatly impressed with her.

She paused, panting, while he stretched her out. Then, in one giant painful push, she took him to the hilt. She cried out and rested against him, breathing heavily, but so very proud of herself.

"Did it. Mine."

She clenched around him, fingers and all, but she wasn't moving any further. She was stretched to the limit, and if she moved while his nails were so close to her skin, she would cut herself on them. But she had taken all of him, and in her mind, had earned the praise.

He smiled at her. Smiled so broadly, pressing little, gentle kisses against her cheeks. He didn't force her to move, either. She could take it at her own pace, do as she liked. Though he was gentle enough as he pulled his fingers free of her -- moving gently and easily, to pull that extra girth from her. So she could be more comfortable. Besides, he had done what he set out to do -- which was to stretch her so that she could take him more easily. He had wanted to feel her, inside and out. And now that he had, he could be more gentle, so that she could experience the pleasure rather than the mingled pleasure and pain.

After a moment, she lifted her head to look him in the eye.

"You are very large. I don't want sweet, but I don't know that this time I can be in control. Take me?"

She looked a little lost, but she obviously didn't mind the pain. In fact, she craved it, holding him inside her. And she wanted more.

He smiled, then pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. He rolled them, moving so that his larger body covered her smaller one. Slowly, he started to move. Slowly. Not gently, just slowly sliding away from her and then back inside of her, his hips pressing hard against her own.

"Is this better?"

He was good at what he did. He could bring both pain and pleasure, even with those careful, slow movements.