Buzzkill

{Bzzzzzzzzzzzz...bzzzzzzzzzzz....bzzzzzzzzzzzz.....bzzzzzzzzzzzzz......} Fuck. Me...{Stubbled cheek mashed into the gnarled wood, lids peeling open on a hoarse groan, a pneumatic, skull splitting pounding making its presence felt between my ears, gloved hand slapping down on the ancient gold talisman dancing its vibrations across the surface of the rack, buzzing through my dehydrated brain like a nest of damn wasps... that fucking harpy of a Directrix needed to get off my dick already...AWOL from the playboy mansion, I'd retreated to the Far Side, exchanging the man-stallion silks for a full set of fighting leathers. The gear felt foreign against my skin at first, but the fighting I fell back into, natural as breathing, the full-throttle violence of my frustrations visited upon the pale slayers, an angel of vengeance, stalking the dark alleys of Caldwell, the body count ratcheting up in a stinking, baby powdered flesh heap and neat rows of macabre canopic jars...something always leading me back here, to the Penthouse, with its familiar scents of leather and steel, candlewax and raw sexuality.. casting defocused diamond eyes about the black marble expanse, the other victims of my going walkabout, the messy strew of empty Goose bottles and overspilling ashtrays with their crushed blunts looking disturbingly like the inside of my head right now, thoughts of the forbidden Chosen,   and the sinister turn of my dreams rattling around my skull like a bunch of pissed off inmates of an insane asylum...bzzzzzzzzzzzz...bzzzzzzzzzzz} SHUT THE FUCK UP!! {slamming my hand down on the medallion with a snarl. Turns out the Directrix is an evil-minded bitch with a raging hard-on for discipline, preying on the vulnerable Chosen, poisoning their minds with fear of cruel and depraved acts the Primale would require of them. The Directrix wanted me. Sexually..I'd caught the flavour of her thoughts, seen the craving in her eyes...willing me to look at her the way she'd seen me look at  ... She knew I knew, and it stuck in her tight craw that I had the upper hand in this little unspoken power play crackling between us. The sadist in me relished the knowledge that there was sweet fuck all she could do about it, save for plagueing me with the incessant fucking summoning on the Primale medallion, the hunk of shiny stud bling buzzing off the goddamned hook since I'd left the Other Side, on my last fucking nerve with both it and the Directrix, fisting the vibrating gold in my gloved hand, pitching it across the room, slam-dunking the thing straight into the toilet bowl with a heavy, satisfying splosh...Exhaling an exasperated growl..And still the fucking thing buzzed!!..glugging about, making like a little jacuzzi in the toilet pan.. That caustic bitch is lucky I'm not shoving the thing up her infuriating ass..stripping out of my oily, blood soaked leathers, the shower bursting to life on command, shrouding my naked body in a mist of hot steam...a fresh set of Hugh Hefner silkies hung from the back of the bathroom door..Exhaling a long breath. I was going back. It was time, true. Not because the wicked witch of the Other Side was clicking her heels but... arching my head back into the pounding water...because I had a sworn duty, to the Brotherhood and to the Chosen and pissing around here on the Far Side wasn't going to fill the ranks of the Brotherhood. And then there was the chance I might see HER again, the forbidden Chosen..No! Fuck V, diamond eyes squeezed tight, killing the growl in my throat, scrubbing at my skin with the washcloth, willing the spray to sluice that traitorous scent from my skin..swirling down the drain along with the false hopes dogging my thoughts. She is not mine, never will be, she has seen the truth of what I am and made a choice to turn her back on it}
*I'd made the trip to my temple doors a million and one times, so many that it shocks me the marble isnt worn through from my bare footed hesitant and pathetically nervous parade to doors that seem to loom taller than ever now. The robe clasped along the whole way, HIS scent diminished, barely lingering from the times I'd pillowed my head upon it, or simply blanketed myself in the white silk, the instinct to bathe myself in that delicious flavour of him stronger than thoughts to do anything else...and I have been somewhat rendered useless. No scrolls to scribe nor edit, they piled and overflowed in plumes of parchment, and it had been time long past since fresh sheaves had been laid upon my desk...so my past time, my distraction has been him, thoughts I could nary have believed myself capable of thinking surfacing to overwhelm my mind and lay it into a realm of perpetual dreaming...so vivid, so wild, I can believe I will know how he feels against my skin, how his muscles will twitch a dance under the coasting of my fingertips, how he will....harden...to the stroke of my...tongue....No!! I cannot return it. I will not. What if he leaves with his scent? If his presence in my mind is merely a result of inhaling that drugging scent as though it is air, an oxygen of hallucinogenic potency warring with primal urges that surfaced at his proximity. If I dared to speak the curses he uttered, now would be the time, but my breath simply hisses out frustration as I mark another path to the doors...this time, this time I would convince myself to go, to whisper my way to the Primale's temple, I'm sure my brain can disconnect from the livewire of erotic images tucked into daydreams long enough to come up with a good argument. Maybe. Hopefully. Soon. On the next trip most definitely. Each pace works me up to a slight trembling nervousness, bringing me closer to the doors, the heavy wood grains perceptible to my eye. I just need to...go...go...another step, another, forcing myself closer...you'll get to see him in the flesh, some innocent voice trills to my senses. And darting out into white lit perfection has never been so easy as I head, a flash of midnight hair streaked over white, to...return his robe...yes, that's what I'm doing. Giving him what was rightfully his*
{Taking form in the courtyard of the Sanctuary, damp hair sleeked back off my inked temple, diamond irises readjusting to the whiteness of everything, the silk pajamas number all but weightless after the weapon-laden leathers, so why the fuck did it feel like I was heaving a small planet around on my shoulders? The birds were eerily quiet, the Scribe Virgin hadn't shown face since the presentation ceremony,"Her Highness" having entered into sequester, not receiving, indefinitely, not to be questioned, according to the robed guardians hovering ethereal around the ornate door. Best guess, allowing time for the Primale to 'bed in', avoid public displays of her darling son's insubordination. Wise fucking move, true. But the details bore me, the cut of my gaze betraying the true obsession of my thoughts, straying in the direction of the Temple of the Sequestered Scribes, the windowless annex to the Scribe Virgin's private quarters...Is SHE in there right now? Shame mahmen dearest wasn't handing out X-Ray vision when she cursed me. What would I give to see her again? Raking my hands through damp hair on a low growl. Yup, no going there, true. Back turned on the solid walls, strapping my titanium coated emotional armor in place as I approach the Primale temple, body locking down on autopilot, a feeling like stone encasing my chest cavity, cold and hard as the echoing marble portico of the temple I'm walking through, detached, like a prize fighter entering the arena. The Chosen is already prepared for my use, hooded and bound, laid naked on the bedding platform, terrified..and as I let the silk robe fall from the heavily muscled breadth of my shoulders, I know I won't be gentle with this one today...just don't have it in me today, no room for chinks in the carefully constructed armor...} 
*The Primale's Temple skipped my heart to a staccato beat in my chest, the sheer magnitude overwhelming me with its marble facade and even though it is similar to every other building in this place, it is what is inside that creates the change in my body. No Corinthian column could steal my breath and labor it in nervous tremors, nor make my heart turn in my chest, or unleash the Scribe Virgin's birds to tumble in my stomach. I made it across the Sanctuary with no sightings of my sisters, I lost track of the rituals, and could only pray that they would keep their peace inside the walls of our temples and not venture for a walk through pristine settings. A shadow in white, I creep a ghost in delicate robes breezing through the doors and lingering close to marble walls...no sense in risking exposure, the punishments would be great if the Directrix happened upon me once more breaking my vows, she had hardened in the recent weeks since the Primale's ascension, never an easy female to be around, now she was worse than the marble, colder, and tougher, pale statuesque fear mongerer who has my sisters begging for the truth at my doors, asking for reassurance that  him was not going to lay a blade to their skin and mar their perfection. And that thought was not as abhorrent to my own self as it was to my sisters. Curious. Slipping through the columned archways, I let prior knowledge of the temple's outlay guide me to the bedding platform, the one my sisters had lain upon, one after the other, gifting themselves to him as I should be offered....a short growl skittering out through the marble echoes, I leave those thoughts at the doorway, praying he is in there, and hoping to the Dear Scribe that he is not. He tears me in two, I know not what to believe, to think, to dream and hope, and when he is in my thoughts, the world outside my head ceases to exist. Ghosting on bare feet to the platform, my eyes are watching the folds of my robes...until the unmistakable whimpering cries of distress jolt my gaze up....my body slams back behind a column, heart choking the breath in my lungs with its violent hammering...a glimpse that will terrorise my soul and haunt my dreams and yet drags my gaze around marble sculpture to drip the images like lead down my throat. Prayers answered, the Primale was indeed home, surging golden flesh flexing muscle riding over the creamy pale flush of Chosen curves, her mewling cries muffled in the hood. And she feels nothing, no pain compared to the ripping agony splintering apart the beating soul in my chest, nothing felt like the trauma that emerald eyes beseeches the Great Mother not to be true. But of course.  His duty was being done. How could I have hoped for any different? As though my presence, the brief interaction we had would keep him from betwixt my sisters thighs? I am chained to the sight before me, watching the monster that was my hope devour my heart with every thrusting growl of muscle to sobbing female...I wish for her silence, her distress grating on nerves rubbed raw. She should not have offered had she not wanted. A waste of pleasure she was not worthy to bear for him. Ripping from my throat, low growls bounce off marble, bounce off another presence I have only a half mind to take notice of. My primary focus is him, if when his eyes raise to lock to emerald..he can see my soul crying*
{The Chosen's thighs are tensed and quivering, my hips pistoning heavy thrusting impacts that smack up to pale, virgin flesh and draw feminine whimpers from the female's hooded mouth...the Chosen smells of cinnamon and roses, a sweet arousal cut through with a dread terror, beads of sweat bloom on my flexing muscles, a pink sex-flush suffuses the female's creamy skin, I know from the cadence of her cries she is teetering on the brink, my warrior body knows well the moves to inflict the killer blow that will trigger her release,centuries of emotionally detached, hard-grinding sex had honed me well, but, fuck, my turncoat mind is in revolt, throwing up vivid images of HER and playing them out in high definition on the backs of tight closed eyelids...fuck...even my sense of smell deceives me, flooding my lungs with the fresh scent of rain and electrical storms...lids flying open mid-thrust, head swiveling toward the weight of intense emerald eyes locked onto mine.. horror twisting my gut.  It's her? FUCK!! I'd have given anything to see her again...but God, please  ..not like this...not with another female, true..stepping back from the Chosen, I suddenly feel unclean, the sweat sheening my skin turned cold, the growled words bitten through clenched teeth before I can think} What the fuck are you doing here Chosen? You're not supposed to be here, true.....  
*my growl is nothing compared to the snarled escaped words through dagger elongated fangs that rumble from his lips, my sister abandoned for the anger, the unnameable emotion that slices through the air like a knife to my senses, shards of pain lancing through my chest at the obvious dismissal... him does not want me in his sights, does not want to see me, is displeased that I could look upon him and wants me rid from his presence...of course he does. I disturbed his duty, his pleasure cut off and diminishing the longer I stay...cold now, no longer in the heat of passion. I took that from him when he saw me. Kicking my chin high, the tears brimming in emerald eyes like ice in my gaze, swimming my vision to a blur of disappearing dreams. He does not want me. He cannot bear my eyes on him. I see that now. The last fragment of an obsession that defied all logic, a need that was so deep a craving it hurt, is dropped to marble in a rush of silk. His robe released from my tender prisoning embrace to fall lonely in a heap, blending in with the white like it had never been apart from it. Back with its master where it belongs....as I should be. Back where I belong. A shivering bow, half hearted and trembling wildly from the fight with tears my body is warring, cascades of midnight silk curtaining to the floor before I whip myself from your presence in a frantic dart for the open sanctuary, I will barricade myself in my Temple, never to break a vow again never ever to set a thought aside for the Primale. Direct my dreams elsewhere. And as I flee over the pure untainted paths, it seems achievable, the exhilaration of a run drying my tears and flaring my hair out in an untamed cape...had not thought to restrain it today..free, flying, fleeing...falling, hard, snagged roughly on something that yanks sharply and drags me to my knees in a teeth clattering impact of bone to marble. My cry is wrenched free, pained in the ripping of hair from my scalp, a fist securely wrapped at the roots and dragging, viciously, half hauling, half slamming my body along the paths to the Temple of Atonement...no, nononononono....my feet flail for purchase, desperate to get under me and cease this dragging agony battering me into marble...who?...my hands rip at the delicate fist so strong in my hair, clawing the skin until my nails are broken edges and blood scents the air with fury, and the never ending dragging thrashes my body in a bid for freedom. But none is to be had. The steps crack bones with every ascent, bruising into my spine, smashing skin into the marble luxury of a supposed haven. Not this temple, not this one please. The stories alone are enough to make me want to die, the punishments harsh and forever scarring. Wrenched up to eye level, the Directrix' snarl is an inch from my face, her stare boring hatred and a wrath beyond any I'd ever seen into my heart. <<Filthy. Little. Pervert. You watch everything do you not? You see him and you crave. A voyeur in our midst, watching with hungry disgusting urges as our Primale takes your sisters. You like it, do you not?>> Shaking me like an infant from her grip in my hair, the crushing blow pounding me into the marble column hammers the breath from my throat and sends me reeling to the floor...such strength, harboured in a storm of rage she flings me like a ragdoll and I am helpless to contend her actions, her spitting words barked in my face* <<His Grace wants you not to see him ever again. And we obey. I will enjoy meting out an appropriate punishment on such a disgusting sister. And I have doubts you will ever see the other side of this temple again>>