Riley's Summoning

A sound, a whisper of intent. The keen hearing of a lycan should have warned her far before she discovered the presence of another so close.

This realization was hindered by another: she had no idea where she was. The room was an unfamiliar one, lushly decorated and exhibiting richness in furnishing that bespoke wealth and luxury. Dominating the room stood a large four poster canopied bed, the sheer curtains revealing a silhouette held inside. A silhouette that hosted molten green eyes that clearly glowed within the darkness, pinned upon her nakedness.

Yes, she was naked.

The warm air stirred around her almost obscenely, held comfortable by the heat from the flickering fireplace that she stood before. The feel of the plush rug beneath her feet was a sensually caressing one. Everything felt a little too intense. A little too unreal.

But the lawyer was not one to back down and a narrowing of those gorgeously caramel eyes would reveal her growing irritation with the unknown. An irritation that would bring with it an accompanying wave of internal warmth.

A parting of those beautiful lips as she opened her mouth to speak would surprise her as what emerged from them were not the words she intended, ?I want.?

?I know.? Came the response, a liquid burnished gold of a voice pouring upon the air and wrapping itself about her tingling body like a lover?s caress. The parting of the sheer curtains would reveal that the owner of the voice had shifted to a knelt position.

?Noo...? Riley would manage to utter as she fought for control of herself and her words here within this hazy world of unreality.

?Yess...? Came the moaned response. And with it the sensation of hands: strong masculine hands finding her hips in a soft glide of dominant desire. A desperate look over one shapely shoulder would reveal that Riley was alone, that the phantom hands were not seemingly connected to a corporeal form. They would grip her shapely curves, gliding down to caress the swell of her shapely ass. A gasp would rip from her as her body responded on a warm wet wave of liquid want.

Her soft cry would be echoed by a woman?s moan of arousal from the bed. Even as she thought flight, sought to gather her well-trained body to attack, a knee would nudge her thighs apart from behind. The rough slide of a man?s well-muscled leg guiding her open as the hands on her hips held her tightly, yet gently. Warm breath would whisper across her bare neck, a hot moist mouth finding the delicate spot where it met her shoulder...the graze of teeth.

One of those masculine hands would drag up over the skin of her abdomen and trail teasingly rough across her ribs before gently cupping the full weight of one magnificent breast. A soft touch, a tentative one, and soon a worshiping one as the appreciative grip tightened tenderly.
As her phantom lover found her nipple with his seeking palm, a gentle grinding sending thrilling streaks of lust to weaken her resolve, the barest pressure of the object of his arousal would nudge against the sleekly moist center of her. His other hand tightening on her hip as he held her where he needed her, his own hot breath panting out on an expelling of fiery need.

?It feels sooo good.? The woman?s voice would purr from the bed, even as the sheer curtains parted to emit the lushly curved body of the Sierene. ?Doesn?t it?? The query would be demanding, a binding question that would accept nothing but the honest truth.

Riley could answer dishonestly, she could end this all, here and now with a simple betrayal of her body. It would only take a shake of her head to end this dream. To end this erotic display of summoning. Her mystic lover?s grip would tighten almost bruising her hip, desperate to keep her there for his penetrating thrust that hovered on the brink of completion. She could sense his agitation at the thought that she would disappear, abandon him and his burgeoning need for her.

Her lips would part on a breathless moan of abandon and release the answer held within a whispered plea...

Amiryn's Summoning

?Let the dream take you...?

The words of the Sierene would have held a heavy sentence. They demanded a price from her. A submission, but only a submission in the truest sense: a yielding.

Like the nature of the Anguissette there was a dichotomy that many could not comprehend. To truly be dominated, to truly allow another to take all that you were...you had to give.

To truly experience pleasure, you had to give yourself over to the pain.

Soft. So soft. The luxurious pelt beneath her slid silkily against her naked skin as she stirred. But only so far as her limbs refused to retract fully. Something held her. Pinned. There upon the fur rug before the gently flickering fire. A twist of her head upward and a glance of those arctic blue eyes would reveal that there were no visible bonds holding her wrists twined together; yet, no movement would be granted.

Her trained and observant eye would note the expensive furnishings and the watchful molten green eyes that burned brightly from the darkness.

A stoic woman, calm in the face of danger, Amiryn could feel an unnatural racing of her heart. A fluttering of emotion though her exquisitely crafted features would allow none of it to appear openly.

And then she?d feel...him.

His presence was unmistakable though no physical manifestation presented itself. Her keen ears would catch the approach of his nearly silent feet as they arrived at her own. Her skin would shiver beneath the possessive and heavy gaze of a man?s desire. Though no man appeared to exist.

Time would pass. Achingly slow.

A whisper of sound, a sensation of proximity. Did he kneel beside her in his invisibility?

A masculine hand would tangle gently within the silken fall of her hair. A sweet stroke of absolute tenderness. Again it would rise and fall, sliding through her tresses in tentative pulls. The soothing sensation would coax peace from her, demand relaxation. Again it would trail upward to start at her hairline and twine down through the waterfall of dark waves.

The fall of her lashes fluttering beneath the delicate ministrations would flare wide as without warning those nimble fingers would twine sharply and yank her upward, crushing her lips against the firm slash of a man?s mouth. A heated brand of wet penetration as he tasted her boldly, holding her taut for the onslaught of his lust.

His free hand would find her throat, the slender column surprisingly frail beneath the hands used to wielding a hilt. Rough, grasping, squeezing, a touch short of choking as he ravaged her mouth for his pleasure before releasing her abruptly and letting her fall back against the soft cushion of the rug.

There would be nothing. No sight for her searching arctic gaze, no sound for her ears to find over the rush of her own blood and beating heart.

But there underneath...his breathing....a roughened sound of excitement.

And the figure on the couch would stir, a slide of sensual flesh as the Sierene turned over on her stomach to pin her with those darkly green eyes... ?Say it.?

As Amiryn?s attention shifted to the corporeal form, the one easily visible, a question upon her lips..say what?... the phantom would crouch above her. She could feel his strong thighs grasp the outside of her own slender legs, the hint of his weight braced above her and the ominous sensation of his fiercely harnessed lust.

The sweetest whisper of satin. Something delicate and pure, tantalizingly light would tickle over her bare breasts. Trailing wisps of ribbon? A fall of feathers? And then as the moist hot breath spilled wantonly over her puckered nipples, she would realize it was the long fall of his hair that teased her.

He would feast upon her ample charms. His tutored tongue finding his taut prize and swirling delectably around it. Hungrily he would suckle, pulling her in rhythmic gulps into his hot mouth.

As she succumbed to the delicious tightening sensation deep within her body, his hands would suddenly find her upper ribcage and with a rough grasp he would lift and thrust her over beneath him, face down upon the decadently silky rug.

As if uninterrupted in the seeking of his pleasure, his lips would find her spine, a trail of sweet kisses seemingly apologizing for his brutally bruising grasp moments before. Lower he would glide, and lower still, stopping before the swell of her sweet ass and licking his way back up.

Glacial blue eyes would open in rapturous pleasure, her gaze finding the woman upon the couch watching them with avid interest. Again she would hear, ?Say it.?

?Say what?? Her lips would mouth, even as his sharp teeth clamped painfully hard on the nape of her neck, breaking the skin for the swath of his tongue to dart at, sweeping up the beaded crimson. Hungrily he would taste the jointure of her neck and shoulder, his weight descending to crush her womanly form beneath him, his hips grinding her deep within the plushness of the rug. His growing desire evident by both his hard arousal and his thundering heart that races against her slender back.

Unexpectedly his body would leave hers, the weight disappearing, the heated velvet of his mouth gone on a flexing of muscle. But his thighs would still grip hers and her keen hearing would reveal the sound of his buckle being undone. The rough hiss of his belt being pulled from around his waist.

?Say it.? Came the voice of the Sierene.

A caressing hand would descend upon the sweet swell of her ass, a gentle touch, preparing her in its seeking.

?Say what?? She would pant.

The crack of leather on flesh was a sound she was accustomed to, the saccharine sensation of pain exploding in delicious streaks that radiated from the pink flesh of her ass. Again that tangle of a man?s hand in her lush tresses pulling her back, arching her neck as the other found her hip and yanked her upward to meet the thrusting grind of his own, ?Say it.? He would whisper, almost pleadingly echoing his Mistress, his yearning palpable.

..... ?say yes...? the Sierene would entice.

http://i852.photobucket.com/albums/ab90/AolaniM/BOUDOIR-01T.jpg

She would have emerged from her solitude with a dark confidence of new ability. The resistance she harbored toward her succubus half had hindered her in the past. No longer, the restrictions she had placed upon her abilities were abolished after the backlash of a spell gone awry.

That night, safely returned to her suite in the Red Dragon, the Sierene gave herself over to a passionately fueled exultation of her new incarnation. Reveling in the erotic she would have projected herself to those sensitive to her summoning. Slipping into the wickedly hot dreams of those inclined by nature to answer her call, Aolani awakened the next morning rejuvenated and anticipatory of the responses.

The typical noise of the commons washed over her, a cacophony of discordant voices and intents. Underneath it, the emotions swayed and danced, as they trailed together and apart. Even surrounded by all of this, Aolani felt her approach. The feral nature of a cat whispered across the emotional plane, curious and languidly wary. A delectable tremor ran through her body as she sought to draw her attention away from the caramel-eyed beauty as she entered the Inn dressed for running. Like a perfectly timed orgasm, too rushed and the waves of ecstasy were not nearly as breathtaking, Aolani held tight to her control and let the Call do its own work.

Aolani could sense the warring natures beneath the tawny skin of the woman as Riley made her way to the bar. She knew she was being analyzed carefully by both an intellectual mind and an animalistic temperament, but allowed none of it to show as she carefully fixed her with those smoldering green eyes from underneath the sweep of ebony, her husky voice whispering out tauntingly, ?can I get you something??

Even as she asked she sensed her power crescendo in a quick uptick, they would both be treated to a shimmering hint of the dream world, the words whispering into the air, ?doesn't it feel good??

She could see the hint of something moving in the liquid depths of the young woman?s eyes even as Riley turned her attention elsewhere in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. No matter, the Summoning would twine her tighter, draw her ever nearer, and if she truly were of a certain potential than there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

Allowing her own gaze to flicker to her fellow, Aolani couldn?t help but smile at the orc?s taunting nature molested the women assembled. Even his arrival had precipitated some minor disaster as he and a wizardly fellow had exchanged threats and heated words. Of course Riley?s beauty attracted him and in deference to his question, Aolani would provide the answer from her perch atop the bar, ?This...this is Riley...?

At the mention of her name Riley snapped her head around, no longer content to pretend disinterest, ?How did you know that??

The beastly man would growl over her query, ?Riley. I like it. Makes me think o' smashin' someone's face in.? A tusky grin emphasized with the punching of his large hand into his flat palm before becoming distracted by the sweet woman tending bar.

Aolani could not resist her own playful response, ?How else would I know what to moan?? Allowing her Siren?s power to deliver the question on a verdantly vibrant wave of honeyed power.

Riley?s gaze would flicker from the orc to the Sierene, a polite, engaged smile forcing its way upon her lips, ?I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage.?

Dark humor would dance in those green depths, as Aolani leaned close to Riley and offered the Cat the bare naked column of her slender throat, the flickering pulse clearly seen against the creamy expanse of exposed skin, ?you know who I am, Riley...? the words a softly whispered promise.

Riley inhaled deeply, eyes falling closed to mere slits, a soft, subtle sound escaping her throat, less like a purr and more like a growl of want. She shivered and took a long pull at the scotch, nearly emptying it. ?Yeah, no. Not so much, actually. I think I'd like your name. You have mine. Fair's fair, after all.?

Aolani lingered in the pose, letting both the enticement of the flesh have its full effect and the sweet scent of her carry to the Cat, appealing to the woman's animalistic nature as she finally tilted her head to meet that lawyerly gaze with a direct challenge of her own, ?Fair?...? The images that danced within the emerald green depths promised a culmination with a phantom lover: ?...is it fair to hold back your answer to my question?...? the moaned words, "doesn't it feel good?" purring across her conscious.

Riley shook her head, denying the truth of the situation. Her purr of happiness turned to a growl of extreme displeasure as Humanity sat firmly in the driver's seat. ?I don't like people effing with my head. Dangerous things happen.? She pushed the nearly-empty glass of scotch across the bar, hoping the tender would notice its sad state and fill it up again.

?I don't mess with people's.. ?effin? heads.? A slow shake of her own at the comment, ?My dreams are simply..potent.. and some, a select few, can feel them, experience them...and ...enjoy...them. In fact,? smiling like a confidant, ?it's I who should be mad at you for dipping inside my night wanderings...for beckoning me to you with your ....? the dip of that molten gaze, ?..desires.?

Riley nearly snorted in her disdain of such a statement, ?I doubt I?m summoning anybody with the heat of my passion.?

Surprise would wreathe the features of the enchantress, ?Summoning someone to you with the heat of your passion? Surely you realize how powerful your secret lusts are??

Irritation flaring in caramel eyes would warn of her growing distemper, ?Secret...lusts? Aren't they...you know...secret? Shouldn't you not know an effing thing about them??

Aolani?s heated gaze would drop to her breasts, a lingering look far longer than necessary to draw attention to the logo found there upon her shirt: ?Says the lawyer? Do you not deal in people's secrets every day??

Riley?s lips would curl in a smile, acknowledging the "reading" of her shirt, ?Sure, but generally I get paid. And of course, they want me to know their secrets. That's sorta the whole point, you know?? She sipped the scotch, boldly meeting the woman's eyes.

The swirling depths would take her in, seduce her as she drowns in her own secret fantasies and lustful desires, ?are you telling me you don't want me to know your desires? ..? Vividly recounting the tutored touch of the phantom lover, ?.simply say so...and never shall our dreams collide again....? again the whispered sensation ....doesn't it feel good?... raking nails over her emotions.

She gave the woman a half-smile, one corner of her mouth curling upwards in acknowledgment of a game well-played, ?Honey, I'm just angling for your name here. Nothing more.?

?My name is yours to whisper, to moan, to call out in the dark hour of the night when you're alone and your needs have you drenched in desire....? the promise vibrated as her sultry words dropped to an intimate level only she could hear ?I am .. Aolani.?

Riley smiled softly, the steely uber-laywer gone and replaced by someone more inclined to play...and to be played with: ?Aolani...beautiful.?

There?s something about being appreciated that makes a woman, no matter her divine, demonic, or mundane race, her age, or even her temperament, smile. Her plush lips curving softly at Riley's relaxing demeanor.

Riley cocked her head to the side again, sipping her scotch and giving Aolani a careful once over...for like the eleventy-first time tonight: ?Answer a question for me??

Aolani licked her lips, the flicker of her tongue tasting the plump swell of her own kiss, ?I will gladly let you ...take... your answer.?

And Riley unleashed her lawyerly nature, flipping the switch into the hard-cored prosecutor. Her eyes narrowing and become cold, remote, distant and quite unfriendly, ?What's the catch??

The cold dominatrix bit would actually work to heighten her desired interest, molten eyes flaring at Riley's iciness. Long legs would uncross upon her perch atop the bar, re-crossing on a sibilant slide of silk stockings, the shift not a stalling tactic, but a way to get the flare of arousal under control as she resisted promising the lawyer that she could beat it out of her, ?You'll have to be more specific, my legal-love, such generalities are too ambiguous to answer properly.?

?What you're offering comes at a steep price, doesn't it? It's not free. What's the catch? What do you get in return for..? She trailed off, waving her hand vaguely in the air, indicating the offer that was currently on the table without so many words.

The questions were good ones, well thought out and delivered straight to the heart of the manner, but what else did one expect from an intelligent woman, and a lawyer at that?

?I get...? A flex and a push sending her lush body arching forward to slide down off the bar and land with confident grace upon her delicate high-heeled feet, ?..your passion...? the smoldering eyes giving hint to the amount of pent-up arousal she was holding in rein, ?I get to...? again a lick of her lips though this time her gaze would boldly pin the woman like a thrusting whip of desire, ?...taste.. your lusts.?

?I get to share in your abandon...? a toss of that luscious mane as she gathered the remnants of her control about her, ?...I get to take you to heights you have yet to experience...and I get to help you release the constraints you place upon yourself.?
?You only have to admit that you like it..? again that whisper from her dream:...doesn't it feel good?...

Riley took a deep breath, leaning into Aolani almost without thought, like iron filings pulled towards a lodestone. There was a tense moment, palpable to those paying attention, where Riley teetered on the edge of giving in, of giving up her hard-won control. And then the steely gates of the Cat's cage slammed closed and Riley righted herself on the barstool, leaning away from the other woman, affecting a casual pose: ?Succubus, eh??

Green orbs would smolder into a conflagration of HEAT, ?Succubus? ... honestly? That's like saying you're a Pussy Cat, kitten.?

?If I wanted to feed off of your emotions like some demon whore from the abyss, I would simply have fucked you in the back alley of your mind when you let me in your dreams.? A flash of something much less cordial at play now. ?I offer you power.. I offer you a chance to say fuck off to every man who rode his way into your life and rode his way back out with another woman beneath his thighs.?

?I offer you a chance to let go of the restraints that keep you safely within the role of woman, chained to the desires of others.?

The last delivered with a note of finality: ?I will let you sleep on it.?

A deep breath would be needed, a raging inferno of emotions roiling beneath the exquisite facade of attractive female flesh, a rake and slash of those darkening cat-green orbs, pinning any and all who met them with their own precious and hidden desires. Ebony lashes would flutter down to conceal the tumult as her Siren's voice danced teasingly across the nerves, ?Alone.?

(Adapted from Chat Logs, Thanks for the Awesome Play RileyMun and Grar-Baby)

Closed eyes.

Fire-hued. Hot. The burning touch of calloused hands and the click of heels on the floor; a rustle of curtain and a moan, echoing elsewhere but also pulled violently from Oedipa?s flushed, hesitant lips - lips that finally settle and stretch into a smile drunk upon wanton joy. Molten chocolate locks fall before her face, modestly veiling a virginal visage as her chin rolls down to her chest: a mild motion echoing the innate rocking rhythm of her hips - carnal movements of untested but elemental knowledge, buried deep in the brain and blood.

?Do you want it?? The mesmerizing voice overwhelms her enraptured consciousness, enticing her to confession, though the answer is already evident in the surrender of her posture.

?Yes!? Cries she, the tone of the single syllable pulling upward at the last letter, nearly curling it into a question.

And like a flame snuffed out, the dream dissolves into vapors of smoke, the phantom form below melting into the silken sheets, her weight slowly shifting upon her own thighs, her entire figure gradually deflating face-down into the soft sheets. The chill in the room is immediately more invasive after such heat, and the bite of the air elicits a merciless shudder from her bare flesh; otherwise, the physical is still for several moments.

Lucidity takes its time, but finally, dark eyes blink open, half-expecting to behold the green gaze again. Nothing. Beyond the bedcurtains is only a fire of dying embers, shimmering angrily in the wintery drafts. A too-calm mind carefully dissects the myriad of fading impressions: the eyes, the voice, the nagging sense of vague familiarity. Is this what it?s like to dream? For so long now, the evening has held only empty hours...

By the time she rises from the bed, shame and resignation have extinguished the last vestiges of fervor from her features. Feet thoughtlessly navigate over the silken pile of her discarded nightgown. Being acutely familiar with solitude, she is certain that she is alone, and as she wanders listlessly across the room towards the hearth, expressionless eyes glide over the haphazardly-piled relics of a tragic ancestry.

Oedipa stands naked before the ghostly remnants of the fire, sensuous curves shadowed only by her lengthy mane, but there are no flames...and no heat.

Her old ennui deadens emotions and slows reaction, but finally, she is in motion again, an austere grace evident in slender limbs as she gathers various garments. She won?t call the chambermaid tonight; no, she prefers to dress alone. She indulges in the familiar feminine ritual with uncharacteristic attention to sensation: the soft silk stockings, firm garter, thin chemise, challenging corset, and finally an empire-waisted gown of pale blue hue. Deft fingers cinch a silk ribbon just below the curve of her bosom. Working in the discrete glow of candles, she twines her tresses up and off of her shoulders, dotting the dark coils with jewel-encrusted pins. Lastly, a long pearl necklace is curled several times around a fragile neck, the heirloom falling again and again with unconcerned elegance across her chest.

The specter of a delicious purr echos in her mind: ?....do you want it...?? Yes, of course. Frosty scorn colors her memory with dark humor at her own foolishness.

Lovely, lofty, and unapologetically cold. The blush no longer colors her cheek, and her lips maintain a dispassionate pout. Perfect.

Taking only a small, leather-bound book, Oedipa quits her quarters in the Inn, seeking the din and anonymity of the nocturnal crowd gathered below.

The same, and perhaps changed: a dim tug of warning, or warming, still haunts the recess of her awareness.

Night again, and unwelcome.

In an existence of a thousand intersecting rituals, a nocturnal summoning interrupts the most well-nurtured plans. Suddenly, evening hours are a source of paradoxical emotions: fear and attraction, excitement and dread, pride and disgrace. A once-quiet mind buzzes with expectation. Simplistic rituals become sophisticated ruses, constructed for the mere appearance of normality.

As the lady?s maid commences the elaborate task of unfastening, unlacing, and unwinding her fine attire, Oedipa?s daytime composure begins to melt away, and a preoccupied glower slowly saturates her features. She barely notices the maid?s attentions, her eyes turned to the mirror and upon her own face, her own figure, vainly evaluating her own appeal. The sullen expression deepens her beauty; it grants the mysterious allure of conflict.

?Is everything all right, Miss?? inquires the servant.

?Hmm?? she returns, momentarily pulled from her musings. ?Oh, yes. I simply haven?t been sleeping well - the nighttime denizens of this city have little respect for normal slumbering, I suppose.? Quickly, she adds: ?Laughter at all hours from the city streets.?

?Yes,? chuckles the other. ?This isn?t the countryside, is it, Miss? Lots of excitement here.?


______



She approaches her nightly retirement coyly, delaying her surrender to the sheets, reading another couple of pages, pacing across the room again, too fearful to acknowledge what she hopes awaits in her dreaming hours.

The voice in seductive tones, recycling through her psyche: ?I wish to taste you. I wish to share in your passions that keep you under such ridged lock and key.?

Yearning has collected in her core, a fierce desire that threatens to erupt each time she spies the enthralling creature. She must bite her tongue to keep from begging; she must curl her fingers to keep from caressing; she must employ every last ounce of her cunning to maintain a gracious, unaffected facade.

And each hour that passes, be it waking or sleeping, a small bit of her resolve wastes away.

Oh, to return to the dream, to be rid of the waking inhibitions.

Oedipa keeps the bedcurtains open, her idle attention lingering upon the fading fire. Unanswered questions crawl through her hazy thoughts: Who is this woman, apart from the name? What is she?

And ever the most desperate: When will she return?

Lounging, standing, crouched, still. All of them nude, all her, and yet, all not. One thing in common, standing out. A brass medallion hung between each one's breasts, like a dull dark circle against pale skin.

"Pretty," Jenni, the shy and quiet watcher, who loved heights so.

"Mmmmm. Pleasing. He is a handsome one." Lillis, the one with the eye for artistry.

Leaping above the man, landing lightly on the scaffolding, Lili, the binder. "I approve."

Isa simply nodded.

Nilli and Illisa stepped forward, Illisa trailing a hand across the sirene's bare shoulders before lightly scratching the guardsman. Nilli, the more savage, took her hand straight down, between his thighs, squeezing roughly. "I hope he shows stamina."

Sa knelt quietly in a dark recess, glowing eyes watching the guardsman, unblinking. Hers would be the last pleasures taken, to watch the light die in his eyes.

Finally, one last appeared. Jen. Alone out of all her sisters, she appeared dressed. "You would give him to us? We must ask. Whyyyy?" The last trailed out in a hissing whisper.

As one, they smiled, Jen's head bowing slightly as her eyes fell upon the silent guardsman. Slowly, but with a practiced ease, cloth and leather fell to the ground, until all eight seemed as mirrors of one another, the light of their eyes falling faintly upon skin. Fingertips trailed over warm flesh, as eight pair of hands descended upon him, trailing languidly. Purring in delight as his neck strained against the hand tangled in his short hair, pulling tightly. Tongues snaked out from plush lips to taste of salty sweat, delicate perfume, and the twin echoes of desire and fear.

Everywhere the bound man could look, he would see her. Touching him. Grasping at him. Enveloping him, saturating him, stealing his breath with wanton abandon. Pleasure mixed sharply with pain, as taut skin was pulled roughly here, and friction fought against slickness there, and everywhere, nails dug in, drawing droplets of blood, whimpers of anguish.

One by one, they used him, as the others silently encouraged, their thoughts comingling along their shared bond. Heedless of his own exhaustion, they used him mercilessly. Whenever he seemed to be reaching his peak, the rest would strive to keep him from it, by whatever means possible. A resounding slap. A curled fist to the gut. A crushing stomp to the instep. A cruel kick to the knee. Until at last, he hung limply from his bonds, his legs unable to sustain his weight. Which one lifted their head from him, licking their lips in satisfaction, he could not say.

But it was Jen who spoke. "We accept your offer." The hushed whisper echoed faintly in the air, as another stepped before the limp form, running her hands over sweat-dappled and scratched flesh. Brightly, energy flared over rigid hands as she drove speared fingers into his flesh, crimson welling around the wounds. His agonized scream persisted for a long time, as bone snapped and sinew tore.

Sa took her sweet, slow time, pressing the jagged edges of splintering rib bone into his eye-sockets, until a final crunch announced his demise. All eight crowded in closely, to witness that final shuddering breath, rattling in a raw throat.

The group turned as one to gaze with satiated eyes upon the Siren. One echoing voice whispered from eight pairs of red-streaked lips. "We will join you, if you will have us." Uncaring of the gore splattered across their skin, they knelt in the dust, bowing their heads in unison, the dripping of blood from the still-twitching corpse the only accompanying sound.

"At your command, so shall we obey."

Harris groaned awake, mopping up a dollop of drool that had collected at the corner of his mouth while he slept. Still a victim of that dreamy haze he smacked his lips, catching a whiff of that all too familiar scent of the Sierene, which spurned him to roll over onto his side and attempt to rouse his still slumbering wife. A shake. Then a pause. Then another shake. Her muttering was a telltale sign that she was awake and hopefully coherent enough to understand his words.

"Hey. You wanna play find the falafel?" Harris grinned, leaning in close to whisper the query into Stick's ear.

His request was greeted with a palm to the face, courtesy of her outstretched arm pushing him back to his side of the bed. With a grumble he rolled over, set his feet on the floor, and pushed up to stand, wandering somewhat awkwardly in his boxers toward the bathroom.

"Fine. I'm taking my one man show on the road then," Harris muttered before closing the bathroom door behind him.

In any form is he the fleet-footed, be it man or beast. And yet as man he is slower, clumsier, and so it is the beast that reigns in this misty dreamscape, the keen senses and graceful sure-footedness of the sleek, feral form that chases her down.

She is fast, to be sure.

But she is not nearly fast enough.

Step by step he gains, deep, panting breaths streaming steam into the air to be swirled and dissipated in his wake, his eyes making out her form faintly through the fog at first, then with more and more certainty, her slender shape becoming more and more defined until finally he judges the moment is right.

Muscles gather in fluid motion and release a sudden burst of strength to launch him into the air, and even as his paws find her back, he is shifting.

Weight far greater than hers bowls her over to the ground. rough hands sieze her, turn her over to her back, and looking up she will see not the man, not the wolf, but a fearsome, feral hybrid of the two. Truly neither and yet both at once is he, and the brilliant sapphire eyes bore down into hers. So many things can be found in them, all dark and primal - hunger.

Heat.

Power.

Lust.

Those great and terrible hands have her pinned helpless to the forest floor of this land of dreams, and a decidedly wolfish grin shows itself on his features as he stares down at her. That gaze moves down her body, a visual caress that in this place can nearly be felt as much as seen, before he moves down to crouch over her, the victor.

The voice that comes from his throat is heated, deep and rumbling with all the primal power of his form.

"And is it this that you seek, witch?"