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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 0:21:12 GMT -5
*Thatcher glanced at the wound on his back and grinned.*
"Think nothing of it," *he said with impeccable good manners, as though she'd just trod on his feet. Instantly, the wound closed itself, only a few drops of blood remaining on his skin.*
"Welcome to my world," *he said, taking the hand which had dropped the dagger and kissing it.*
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 0:35:08 GMT -5
*Sylvia stared at the wound unblinking as it healed. Her knees felt wobbly.*
"Forever." *The word drifted out of her lips as if she was seeking some understanding. She lost her balance and landed hard on the floor. She looked blankly at the blood on her hands.*
"You...me...."
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 0:41:29 GMT -5
"When the empires of tomorrow have crumbled to dust...we will remain..." *he said, a strange light of triumph in his eyes as he hauled her to her feet, a little roughly.*
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 0:49:55 GMT -5
*Sylvia instinctively picked up the blade as he pulled her up, but didn't fight him. A strange expression washed over her slowly a smile curled her lips. She giggled softly. She drew the blade gently over the skin of her arm, wincing, but smiling as she watched it heal. Then she swiped the blade quickly across Thatcher's chest, her eyes filled with child-like wonder as he healed quicker than she did. She covered her mouth as a sharp laugh escaped it. Her eyes sparkled up to his for a moment and then she lunged, kissing him hotly as she wrapped every bit of skin she could manage about him.*
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 0:58:23 GMT -5
*Thatcher held her against him, gradually pushing against her until they fell back onto the bed. The knife kept switching hands, and they took turns goring each other only to watch the wounds close up, the scars fade into nothing. Sylvia's healing quickened as her blood raced and she learned how to focus her energy upon the wound. Their skin dripped with blood, but their bodies were whole and perfect but for the few moments when they would inflict pain upon one another. Thatcher abandoned the rest of his clothing and pinned Sylvia beneath him, tasting the metallic tang of blood upon her tongue.*
"Life everlasting," *he groaned, pressing himself against her as he ran his hands along her arms from her shoulders to her elbows to her wrists, where he twined his fingers with hers and pushed her hands against the bed, holding her still.*
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 1:05:31 GMT -5
*Sylvia purred, arching her back, trying to lift herself to him as she squirmed beneath him. She nipped hard at his skin, as if she had some need to devour him.*
"More..." *Her voice was dark.*
"More, Thatcher."
*She licked her teeth, her head pressed back against the pillow in ecstasy. She ground her hips against his, her blood on fire.*
"Now."
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 1:12:17 GMT -5
*Thatcher balanced the sharp tip of the dagger on her chest, then wrapped both of his hands around it. Leaning heavily on it, he sank the dagger deeply between her breasts until only the hilt remained. Maintaining his grip upon the weapon embedded in her flesh, he pulled against it, sliding upwards, moving against her, inside her, slowly, giving her all she never knew she desired.*
***FADE OUT***
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 1:23:45 GMT -5
***FADE IN***
*Everything hurt. Deliciously so. Sylvia rolled over, her eyes shut. She bumped against another body. Peeking one eye, she saw Thatcher next to her, spent. She should be disgusted. Terrified. Revolted. But she just...wasn't. She pressed her face against his skin, smelling the dying blood on the expensive sheets beneath them.*
"I can't stay here. You know that, right?"
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 1:27:55 GMT -5
"You will stay here," *he said, lazily rolling over to nibble at her shoulder, one leg thrown over hers to render her immobile.*
"I wonder..." *he murmured.* "...if our children would be immortal as well...would they age only to a certain point?" *One hand slid across her stomach.* "...it will be interesting to find out."
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 1:32:00 GMT -5
"No."
*Sylvia wriggled beneath him, trying to shuck off his leg. She lifted her head and opened her eyes with a lazy smile. She propped herself on her elbow.*
"No, I can't stay here."
*She gestured to the bed with her head.*
"I am in desperate need of a bath..."
*She nuzzled her nose against his shoulder playfully.*
"And perhaps you might allow us to retire to your bed until we can get the linens replaced on this one?"
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 1:35:21 GMT -5
"Mmm..." *Thatcher glanced at the bloody sheets as though seeing them for the first time. One would think he'd just deflowered two dozen virgins, here. Or beheaded them.* "Indeed."
*Rising with lazy grace, he called for servants to bring bathwater and change the linens.*
"My lady," *he said, gallantly handing Sylvia into the tub of steaming water, a soft sponge held suggestively in the other hand.* "I fear I have mussed your maquillage."
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 8:21:22 GMT -5
*Sylvia let out a laugh, looking up to him before she rubbed gently at her eyes as if she might right it again.*
"If that is the case...I'll have to start all over..."
*She reached as if to take the sponge, but caught him gently by the wrist instead, tugging him slightly towards her.*
"Or..." *She whispered suggestively, eying the tub, questioning him with a look as to why he wasn't in it.*
"Perhaps you should."
*She sucked her lip mischievously.*
"If you start from the bottom up, I promise to make it worth your wild."
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 15:07:39 GMT -5
*Thatcher grinned, stepping closer, casually sliding his hands from her hips to her buttocks.*
"Will you, now?" *he asked with light curiosity.*
((Oh geez, this is turning more and more into The Fountain without me even REALIZING it!))
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Post by Sylvia on Jan 9, 2008 15:12:44 GMT -5
((That's because it too is teh sex. It calls to you.))
*Sylvia smiled wryly, lifting her chin indignantly.*
"Well, that depends...will you tend to me..."
*She drew her tongue slowly over her lip.*
"...or is that too...beneath you?"
*She lifted her brow with a grin, turning her back that he might wash it as she kept his gaze over her shoulder.*
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Post by Thatcher on Jan 9, 2008 15:17:25 GMT -5
((Goran isn't Hugh but he's close enough!))
*Thatcher wet the sponge with the hot water, pressing it to the nape of her neck and letting the rivulets stream down her spine.*
"I'm certain I'll find myself in a satisfactory position," *he said gallantly.*
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