MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Jul 10, 2021 20:53:12 GMT
The music was a throb against his skin, shivering over nerves that always felt itchy later. An urge under his skin that he’d resisted for weeks. The bass seemed to be a palpable thing in the hot, humid air of the club, throbbing, vibrating against those nerves until Mitch found himself shrugging against it. Not now and sure as hell not here.
He dragged his tongue over his top lip, long blunt fingers toying with the recently emptied shot glass in front of him. Traces of the liquor still clung to the rim, beads of amber liquid smearing over the bad of his thumb as he nudged it back towards the bartender. Mitch nodded, his fingertips tapping against the glass lightly in confirmation that he wanted another. His fourth of the night, not close to even giving him a buzz yet, alcohol rarely did, but enough of an affectation that he’d cut himself off at some point. All the better not to tip his hand, or ruin any attempt that might still be made to get words on a screen tonight.
Mitch huffed out a breath, nudging the glass forward as he propped his arms on the edge of the bar. Who was he kidding?
Snr’s phone call as he’d been shoving groceries in the fridge that afternoon had soured everything with the latest book. The sigh that whispered down the line before his father had even managed a ‘how are you doing son?’ telling how the whole conversation would go. There’d been talk in the hallowed halls of City Hall about the research he’d been doing with a few members of the party. Word was getting out. Like there was some massive secret in Alberta politics that he was about the blow the lid off of. Life wasn’t fiction and he’d tried to put that point across again but things had only gone from terse to that bitter silence that made it clear just how much the old man was disappointed in him before the loaded question had come again. ‘You given any more thought to coming home?’ The laughter had trail off at that, the bitter ‘I take it that’s a no’ coming a second before he’d said his goodbye and set the phone down with a quiet click. Snr was still delusional, wrapped up in the thought that there’d be another Mitchell T. Davis in office before the year was out.
Reaching for the glass the minute the guy set it down, Mitch snorted out a laugh. He caught the look from the guy as he did it but just lifted the glass in silent toast to the guy before it was tossed back the same way the last four had been Lips peeled back his teeth as the tequila rolled around his mouth with little more effect than mouthwash. A sour tang of liquor instead of the minty fresh sensation as he set the glass back down. ”Fat chance pop.” Hissing a breath in, Mitch let his hazel eyes tick over the crowds reflected in the mirror. The lighting was dim, all the better to hide what was happening on the dance floor but the occasional spotlight pierced that darkness, sweeping the crowds to illuminate in little vignettes that would’ve had Hieronymus Bosch reaching for a paintbrush.
One swept over the top of the crowd, catching hands thrust up to brush those beams like they could close damp fingers around them. A brass ring in all that darkness but it was the woman at the tip of that light that caught his eye. For a moment she was bathed in it, a spill of blonde hair lit up like old gold, all gilt bright as she slipped out of a door at the rear. Mitch nudged his glass away, reaching for the half finished beer he’d started and nudged aside a half hour before to start in on the bottle of tequila that’d likely be half empty by the end of the night.
Locking eyes with her in the mirror, even from that distance, Mitchell lifted his chin. She probably couldn’t see him in the dark, not the way he could her thanks to that other Davis inheritance but lyrical descriptions of a femme fatale were already writing themselves in his head, all the better to seduce Alberta’s corrupt politicians in the novel that had to be the one to finally give Snr an aneurysm. He lifted the glass and his voice at once, craning forward to catch the guy’s eye. ”Hey, man. You wanna bring the bottle and the … you know … gubbins?” It got him another of that faintly baffled looks but he was already flicking a finger towards the salt shaker and lime wedges behind the bar. They were set down in front of him just as he felt an approach. Years of watching his and everyone else’s back in the world’s hell holes and you got enough of a feel for it to be casting one of those slow grins over his shoulder at her.
Femme fatale indeed. Katherine Hepburn’s modern day competition. Gilded even up close as he held up the salt shaker, giving it an almost delicate shake. Hers if she dared. His all on his lonesome if not, Mexican courage for sticking it to the very political man when he started rattling the keys in the morning.
Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 899 |
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HANNYA
Demon
Posts: 157
Played by:
Julia
"Do you hate that you love me or do you love that you hate me?"
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 17:12:57 GMT
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Post by HANNYA on Aug 2, 2021 23:03:13 GMT
 ━ make you beg for it, plead for it, until you feel like you breathe for it ━
Slipping through the doors, the demon surveyed her surroundings as she strut through, long, blonde hair flipped over her shoulder. She went to the bar, hoping for the aforementioned brute that was often behind it. He had envy wafting off of him as of late, like a siren song to Hannya, one that penetrated layers of concrete and drywall to find her. She could practically smell him from downstairs, and she wanted a piece of it. Of him.
Not that she hadn’t had some before, but the jealousy added an extra layer of fun.
Slowing to a halt as she neared the bar, hazel eyes danced along the space behind it, narrowing when she couldn’t find him. Perhaps the bathrooms? Already with company? Hannya didn’t mind, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t convince him to leave another woman behind for her. Plus, the other girl’s jealousy would only feed her further.
Somebody else caught her eye while she looked for Kit, a brief lock through the mirror while Hannya stood only a few steps from the door she’d come from━an easy retreat if she wanted. She was used to men staring━women, too━and she loved it━got drunk off it. But he looked away just as she was raising her chin back at him and smirking, and Hannya wanted to know how he’d dared to remove his gaze from her. Teeth grit together behind closed lips, a clench of her jaw in irritation. How dare he? And why? To get more alcohol?
The AWOL club manager was forgotten about entirely.
Hannya moved towards him, eyes boring holes through that hulking frame, wanting nothing more than to grab hold of him and force his eyes back on her.
His grin had her faltering internally, wondering if this was a ploy to draw her in. If it was, it worked, and now she was intrigued to know what creature could have this kind of power over a demon of her stature. Her gaze flicked to the salt in his hand, then the liquor, and Hannya was smirking suddenly━so that’s what it was. He wanted to have a drink with her.
Being a ‘manager’ made it easy for her to waft wherever she wanted now, not worried about wandering off when she was needed for entertainment. Somebody could come upstairs if they needed her, though Hannya didn’t know why they would. Nothing went wrong very often.
Slipping in, Hannya broke that first barrier of physical touch, unbothered by human customs━either they first felt each other’s heat now or they did it later, and she was never one to be very patient. Arms encircled his neck like a snake, though one that was calm and hanging leisurely━able to choke the life out of its victim in an instant, and whenever it wanted to. Her fingertips pressed into his sternum, testing it, pleased by the hard surface that had no give. Flattening her chest against his back, Hannya leaned in, whispering delicately in his ear, “I don’t need the excuse of salt and lime to get my tongue on ya.” She flicked the end of it over the shell of his ear, eyes dancing to the mirror to find his face, a smirk twisting up her lips. “But if that was an offer, then sure. I’ll do shots with ya.” She snorted, “Should really start usin’ your words, honey. No one likes bein’ beckoned like a dog.” She loved doing it to others, though, and maybe it intrigued Hannya to have him do it to her.
Plucking the salt shaker from his fingers, Hannya finally let him go, stepping over to stand by his side. With her other hand, she retrieved a lime wedge, dragging the wet side across her chest to leave a streak of juice, then sprinkled the salt on it. “You first,” Hannya grinned devilishly, watching the stranger with a keen eye.
MITCHELL DAVIS |  |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Sept 14, 2021 18:40:22 GMT
The club was about as far from the glossy climbs his family frequented as it was possible to get. There was no greasy gladhanding going on here, no bile rushing up the back of his throat as he had to smile at the woman he’d seen his father with just days before. His dad all charm for the woman’s husband, guileless and guiltless. Music far louder, a beat that you could feel vibrating in your bones like it was something primal working its way back inside of you. For him, inside a body that was more primal than anything around it. Something not entirely human, although his grandfather had never explained it that way. They were special, more than the others, although that wasn’t supposed to come with the sort of superiority complex his father had worn like a cape over that ever changing skin. Mitchell Snr had used it for good, trying to turn the tide of war. Jnr had used it as another layer of subterfuge on his whoring ways. He’d tried to walk in his grandfather’s footsteps but tonight …
Mitch clucked his tongue. He doubted even Jnr. would approve of this but few things he did ever earned approval from his father. Don’t serve. Don’t write. Don’t go spilling the family’s secrets all over the pages of some trashy novel just to kick his family in the teeth. Cause everything was always about the family. He’d been toasting to that when she’d emerged from the back. Jnr. would’ve swallowed his tongue at the sight of her. Not just the ex-model wife of one of his underlings or some impressionable intern, a woman with a knowing look in her eye and danger practically wafting off of her like perfume.
Knowing she was the sort of trouble he’d end up plunging up to his neck in before the night was through Mitch threw any sort of caution to the wind and gestured the bartender in. Tequila, enough to fell a horse, salt, lime. All the encourage anybody needed in a place like this to start doing body shots. And she had the body for it.
Hazel eyes took it in, a quick flick up and down curves he knew few would call real. She had to have caught it as he held up the salt in silent invitation, the smirk struck suddenly, like a snake. If she was venomous then he’d willingly take the bite. Mitch tightened his grip on the shaker as she eased in without a word, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind, hands draping down so her fingertips could press into his chest. Not faked the way some of the rest of his appearance was tonight, he still had some vanity after all. ”Wasn’t sure what your poison was,” he drawled, leaning back into the cushion of her body as she leaned into him.
A shudder ran Mitch’s spine, probably a sign that he was already in over his head, as she whispered in his ear. Breath hot over the skin before she punctuated her words with a flick of her tongue over it. ”Maybe it was an excuse to get mine on you,” Mitch rasped. His eyes were heavy lidded now, meeting her gaze in the mirror as he grinned. Teeth flashing white in the dim light, he tilted his head as though studying where to make first contact. He straightened up as she chided him, his free hand gripping the edge of the bar as he started to swivel in his chair. ”I use ‘em all day. Heard I’m pretty good with ‘em when I open my mouth. Talented fingers.” Winking, he let her pluck the salt from his fingers and then swallowed hard as he saw the trail of one of those lime wedges over abundant, creamy skin.
Oh yeah, definitely the death of him.
He was game to go out with a bang though. Almost feral now, his grin burned a moment long before he bent and dragged his tongue along that salt line. Mitch snagged the glass the bartender had filled from the bar, slamming the amber contents down in a single swallow. Fingers closed around her wrist, lifting the fingers holding the lime wedge to his mouth. He bit down on it, letting his teeth graze her fingers lightly before he pulled away with a hiss of satisfaction. ”You wanna hop on up?” Mitch patted the stool next to him with one hand as he opened the tequila bottle with the other for a fresh pour. A nudge of his knuckles and it was in front of her.
The hand he’d used to pat the stool slid before it now, scooting it close enough that he could bracket her with his legs. No lime wedge for him he was leaning in instead, tracing his lips over her jaw before he sucked lightly on her pulse. ”I’m Mitchell,” he crooned against her skin. ”Thought I’d better use my words before you end up striking me dumb.” It wouldn’t take much with the way the pieces were already falling into place in his head. A man led by his muse had very little self-control after all.
Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 867 |
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HANNYA
Demon
Posts: 157
Played by:
Julia
"Do you hate that you love me or do you love that you hate me?"
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 17:12:57 GMT
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Post by HANNYA on Oct 1, 2021 13:26:06 GMT
━ make you beg for it, plead for it, until you feel like you breathe for it ━
The demon hummed contently, eager, in his ear, nose brushing along his skin while they grinned at each other through the reflection. She liked seeing their faces━they all looked like little pawns to her. She wanted to see him drown in this.
“Talented fingers and mouth? Wow. Well, aren’t I a lucky girl?” She laughed lightly before coating her skin, sticky, sweet and just tart enough. Hannya was betting it was about something specific, though. His job or… whatever. It didn’t matter to her unless it had that little hint of jealousy she craved. And if she wasn’t getting it from Kit, then she hoped this one would fulfill the need. “Guess I can’t just take your word for it, huh? Who knows, maybe all they were doin’ was givin’ you lip service.” Like she would in a minute━if he would prove he was a man at all.
Humming again when his lips were on her skin, the sound fell deeper in her throat, drawing out a gentle moan. Hazel eyes stayed trained on the man while he took the lime wedge, fingertips dipping curiously, sliding over the inside of his bottom lip. She mirrored the sound he made, though her own was low again, tossing the lime wedge back to the bar when he was done with it. At his offer, Hannya was sure he meant his lap as a seat, then pouted when he indicated the stool. At least he pulled it in.
Slipping in easily, and immediately trapped between his legs, Hannya slipped one hand up, pressed to his neck while he kissed and sucked at her skin again, this time without the excuse of alcohol. She tilted her head the opposite way to offer a wider expanse of skin on her neck, the meatsuit’s heart jumping in her chest. Thud, thud, thud. Her free hand moved to one of his legs: knee, then up to his thigh. Thudthudthud. Men like this made her feel alive, as if she ever had been. It was that small taste of humanity that… well, if Hannya had a heart (in more ways than one), it would be racing, too.
“Mitchell,” She repeated softly. For a mortal name, Hannya thought it wasn’t so bad. “Good boy,” She purred, “You’re a fast learner.” They were all idiots, though. Weak, easily manipulated, but that’s what made them so fun. “Hannya. My spot’s the one downstairs━it’s more fun, y’know. Just got a strict guest list.” The hand on his neck dipped down to that firm chest again, guiding him back. She could sense something off him, that lingering feeling like another story was under the surface, but that didn’t make him immortal. Plus, she still had a shot to take.
“Now hush, darlin’.” With a laugh, the demon nabbed the salt shaker, but that feeling of his legs enveloping hers was no longer interesting. Raising her own, Hannya dropped both atop Mitchell’s thighs, letting them dangle down on the outsides. She picked up one of his hands, eyes meeting his while she licked a stripe over his index finger, a devilish smirk playing at her lips. Salt stuck to the moisture, and between switching out the shaker for the shot, Hannya slipped his digit into her mouth, finding his eyes again.
Tequila downed as soon as she pulled away, almost forgetting to cringe at the feeling of it slipping down her throat. Stuffing a new wedge between her teeth, she came for him then, finding his mouth somewhere between lips and tongues, and that sour flood of citrus, fingertips digging into his biceps like reigns on a horse.
MITCHELL DAVIS | no notes. |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
|
Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Nov 11, 2021 19:41:30 GMT
The temptress was a cliché, as rampant in spy fiction as the corrupt politician or the Russian bad guy. Bond had faced dozens of them, pretty faces capable of suckering a hero in, seducing him before she attempted to take him out. Hell, he’d written plenty of them, not afraid to play on those cliches. It was what people expected and, Mitch thought as he let out a shuddering breath, it should’ve been what he’d expected from this place. Powerful women in the crowd, knowing exactly what the men had come here for. They played on it, twisting those inebriated saps until realisation dawned through the clouds of booze in their minds and suddenly they were too deep to escape.
Mitch’s lips curved slowly, his head rolled against her chest, still only eyeing her in the mirror. He couldn’t have written a redder line, temptation woven into those words that was already teasing like stroking fingers at the edges of his resolve. ”I wanna taste you, but your lips are venomous poison.” The words were rough, his singing voice never much of a thing, especially after puberty had struck, Alice Cooper had appropriate though.
Venomous poison. It should’ve sent him running for the door but he’d wanted to drown tonight anyway, washing away frustration in those welcome waters, but he stayed put.
Head lolling against her while she noses at him, Mitch watched. Heat was already furling in the pit of his stomach before the booze had even splashed down. Pride shone in the gleam of teeth, something primitive and feral in it like he’d let some unbuttoned part of himself free with the transition. ”Very,” he promised without an ounce of rue. ”Talented brain to go with ‘em both. It’s the perfect trifecta.” He’d bragged about it before but that time it’d been under far more salubrious circumstances. A brag to an interview, laughed off as he made it clear his ego wasn’t that inflated. Hazel eyes rose from where she’d painted her skin with the lime. ”Nu uh,” he drawled in all seriousness. ”It’s never just lip service with me. You’ll be singing my praises before the night’s out.” Ego was gonna back up that claim one way or another.
The swipe of his tongue over the salty, sticky spot on her skin started that line of evidence, his lips curving against it as he drew the moan out of her. Mitch tipped the liquor over them as he pulled back, it burned its way down, stoking the fire in the pit of his stomach as he got a hold on her to bite down on the lime. Her fingers weren’t still either, stroking over his lip in a way that held such promise before she pulled away. Not too far, honey. Pulling her close as she sat on it, Mitch felt the heat of her on his skin, as heady as the tequila.
The stretch of his legs kept the two of them separated in their own little world here. The blonde anchored herself in it, fingers pressed to his neck while he explored hers. No poison yet, although he might’ve been dropping an inch deeper without it anyway. Mitch hummed against her skin, nuzzling at the hollow beneath her jaw as she repeated his name back to him, punctuating like with a ‘good boy’ like she was about to pat his head. The laugh she drew out of him had his beard scraping against her neck. ”Told you,” he reminded her. ”A back room huh? Hmm.” He rolled his eyes , taking in what he could see of the club with her blonde tresses draped around ‘em that way. ”You think I’m talented enough to sign in to it, Hannya?” If this had been Fort McMurray the family name likely already would’ve been on the list.
Frustration rolled through like a storm cloud, trying to rain on his tequila spiked parade. Mitch tried to swallow it down, found his brows rising as she encouraged him to shut his mouth. He stared at her, made a sound as she lifted her legs and draped those strong thighs over his own. A black widow drawing in her mate. That image had him chuckling. His fingertip crooked in the heat of her mouth, wiggling just enough before she pulled away. His was trailing down the side of her throat when she finally tightened those thighs around him. A kiss deep and satisfying, the taste of lime, salt, tequila and promise. Hannya’s fingers were bitingly tight on his arms.
Slipping to the edge of the stool Mitch slid his hands up her thighs, gripping just at tight at her hips. ”Have they got this down in that basement of yours? You wanna show me the way down there Hannya?” The original plan to get her drunk enough that she wouldn’t rail against the idea of an hour on the dance floor building a sweat and a hunger had been moved up. He’d adjusted, enough that he was ready to drag her off that stool and carry her down into that darkness, fully prepared to be swallowed up by it all.
Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 860 |
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HANNYA
Demon
Posts: 157
Played by:
Julia
"Do you hate that you love me or do you love that you hate me?"
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 17:12:57 GMT
|
Post by HANNYA on Dec 8, 2021 21:30:44 GMT
━ make you beg for it, plead for it, until you feel like you breathe for it ━
“Maybe. I can feel it between us, sugar, but it depends what it means.” She winked, amused at what might be floating through his head at her words, attempting to pick apart the riddle until it made sense.
She took the shot and his lips, claiming both and drawing in the rest of him with her legs. That would all be hers soon enough, too. Hannya allowed him to move in and steal her further, soaking up his heat and the spurs of energy that flowed through his touch and into her veins. His lust grew, and it felt like a drug every time she experienced it.
Humming quietly, her head tipped back just enough to find his eyes, digging her bluntly manicured nails into his skin. “Oh, there’s all the fun you can imagine and more down there,” Snickering, Hannya drew away slowly, leaving only her hand in his as she shifted to stand. She led Mitchell away, back to the door she arose from, marked ‘Staff Only,’ and suddenly they were in a bubble of silence between clubs. Muted rhythms boomed loudly through plaster, but it was never enough to penetrate.
“So… say, if someone were to take a chunk outta ya, would your body just patch up the hole, or would ya bleed out on my pretty carpets, dumplin’?” She not-so-subtly asked as they descended that winding staircase at the end of the hall, easily slipping past the bouncer with no hesitation. Hannya stilled just a few steps in, turning into Mitchell and that big, broad chest, admiring his impressive height━even with her heels. She fluttered her lashes up at him, letting that oh-so-obvious faux innocence flood her expression. “‘Cause I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt on my time━‘less, of course, it’s from me.” There was a vampire on the couch a few paces behind her, gently sinking his fangs into a willing participant, giving Mitchell a clear view of the kind of things that went on here. It wasn’t the kind of hurt she meant, but he advertised that big brain of his, so she trusted him to put together the nuances.
MITCHELL DAVIS | no notes. |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
|
Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Jan 5, 2022 16:03:58 GMT
You didn’t make it to the lofty ranks of a New York Times’ bestseller’s list thriller writer without being a master at creating riddles. Nobody wanted to figure out the mystery on the first page of a book, they didn’t want cookie cutter plots where your good guy beat everything that came his way without taking a few hits in the process. You had to weave things together and Mitch was a master weaver. ’A corset tight plot, squeezing in every possible ounce of enjoyment you can fit into 520 pages.’ He’d had that printed out and mounted on the wall above his desk. Deft fingers had translated easily from explosive devices and tech networks to laptop keys and a character whose dad hadn’t pulled strings to yank him out of the field.
Now they were just as skilfully working the lime, salt and tequila to get him where he wanted. A brain wiping kind of a night, the sort that had those frustrations melting away in that explosion of white light behind closed lids. Mitch grinned slowly up at the blonde. She hadn’t been bad at weaving either, talented fingers, that molasses voice stringing him up tight enough that he wouldn’t be struggling against those knots later, not until he plucked them free to swagger home. Scenes already writing themselves in his head – writing what you knew was practically a tenet of basic storytelling after all.
Mitch stroked a finger over her throat as she downed the shot and put salt dusted lips on his. His knuckle rubbing light over her pulse as she drew him in with thighs strong enough to give the Black Widow a run for her money. A shiver ran through him, heat overlaid with something so much more, a blanket of something more narcotic than the tequila alone. Hazel eyes at half mast watched her, an almost viscous heat there, like honey about to melt into her already molasses sweetness. ”You got a playground beneath this place?” he asked, amused. That didn’t sound like no private access area, more the sort of place his dad would’ve trailed to, hiding base tastes behind another face. The realisation that he was doing just the same as she led him towards the ‘staff only’ door at the back had him swallowing but not stopping.
He was not his old man. Never would be Jnr.
The minute the door slipped shut behind them it was like someone had flipped a switch. So much noise drowned out in an instant. He could practically hear his team’s laughter in the back of his head. ’Hey dude, down here nobody can hear you scream.’ A juvenile assessment that once might’ve been used for a dark basement, set up to snare people like them. This reeked of a trap but it hadn’t in that other way until she couched a truth in that sweetened question.
Mitch dipped his head, bringing up his other hand to grind a finger and thumb into the eyes that were still his even if it everything else had been adjusted. Would your body just patch up the hole. Shit. He looked up at her as they headed past another bouncer – there to stop them getting in or keeping them from getting out? ”You planning on biting down on me rather than the lime, honey?” he managed tightly. Those hazel eyes narrowed now, fingers finding her hips to squeeze lightly. There were other things out there, things he’d be better to steer clear of. Snr had dropped enough warnings about that and he’d not come to the thriller genre lightly. Sadie had suggested jumping onto the band wagon of fantasy writing but when you were already something fantastical it felt even closer to home than some highly trained guy trying to pick apart political intrigue.
Not cold, not likely to be a vamp then. He stared into her eyes, tried probing behind like he could with enough effort – although he’d always tried to avoid prying, he didn’t want to see too deep. Mitch moved fast, pressing her back against the wall of the hall as his teeth were bared against the rusty scruff of a beard thicker than his own usually was. ”What’s really down here?” he crooned low, dipping his head down to nose at her throat even as he tilted his head to catch sight of the vampire actually feeding down here. Shit indeed. ”What are you? It’s not fair if only one of us is playing here, although I get the feeling I’m not gonna play rough as you.” There was a little shiver in the pit of his stomach, one he squelched with a deep breath in that pressed her further back into the wall. Hannya had definitely strung him up tight before he’d even seen just where she was taking him.
Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 808 |
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HANNYA
Demon
Posts: 157
Played by:
Julia
"Do you hate that you love me or do you love that you hate me?"
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 17:12:57 GMT
|
Post by HANNYA on Jan 25, 2022 20:44:33 GMT
━ make you beg for it, plead for it, until you feel like you breathe for it ━
‘You planning on biting down on me rather than the lime, honey?’
Cackling gently, Hannya gave him an insouciant shrug, still facing forward until they were just inside Emerald City. “I might give ya a lil’ nibble, but that ain’t my sole purpose, sweetness.”
No, that was drinking in all he had to offer and taking it as her own. Stamping her mark all over town, collecting each and every one of them as little puppets she could play with later. Consuming their lives, their jealousy, running amok everywhere she saw fit.
Both hands slipped up to his biceps once he was holding her hips, matching hazel eyes meeting his own, grinning all the way to them. He was curious now, and Hannya didn’t bother to reveal anything, content with watching him attempt to figure it out on his own. In an instant, he was driving her back, plastering Hannya against the nearest wall. Her backside hit first, a giggle bubbling from the pit of her stomach until it floated out into the air between them. In a gentle, almost ghost-like touch, her fingertips travelled to his shoulder, over his shirt and up the back of his neck. They went into his hair and guided him into the warmth of her neck.
“Everythin’ in your wildest, darkest fantasies, baby,” Hannya hummed, gasping quietly in his ear as he pressed closer. “Nuh-uh,” She clucked her tongue, “Not fair I reveal everythin’, and you can’t even answer my question.” Shaking her head lightly as if chiding a child.
The demon snatched his hair in her fist suddenly, giving him a hard yank back and stepping forward, pushing him a few steps from the wall with her body. She bent his neck at an angle, pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. “You’re right,” Hannya hissed, “I do play rough when I don’t get my way. So tell me what ya are, honey bun. Now.” Not the most polite way to ask, but demons weren’t known for their civility.
MITCHELL DAVIS | no notes. |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
|
Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on Apr 8, 2022 17:56:06 GMT
Tease.
He’d painted her as a little more than that in his head at first. A woman employed by the club to lure in unsuspecting men who’d crawl at her feet, panting for a little attention, willing to buy out the bar to bask in all of that. Oh how he’d been wrong. In heading off behind closed doors with the blonde Mitch was beginning to feel like he was stumbling into a spider’s web.
Of course, the real question was whether or not he wanted to escape it now.
Eyes at least half wide open he’d agreed to head into her lair – the playground. This was the sort of town that came with stories that could blow your eyes wide open and have your heart pounding in your chest but he’d grown used to that. Battle wasn’t pretty. You couldn’t work your way through it with your eyes squeezed shut so you didn’t have to see the nightmarish things going on. You had to get used to keeping them open and just accepting that you were going to come across things nobody wanted to look at.
Mitch was looking, fixing eyes on those painted lips, quirked with amusement. His gaze narrowed, a low rumbling sound emerging in response to her evasive comment. ”That’s just your fun on the side,” he drawled lightly. The fun sort of nibbling brought one kinda shiver, the not so fun another, the sort that coiled in your chest and then blasted down into your stomach with a rush of icy cold.
It was the good kind that got him as she run her hands up to his biceps but the other kind was waiting there under his ribs. That grin wasn’t reassuring, there was too much hunger, too much knowing to it. Hannya knew the cogs were spinning in his head and she was enjoying it. Mitch’s eyes fixed on what was down here as he nosed at Hannya’s throat. Oh yeah, there was that icy cold and it wasn’t entirely going away as he swallowed. He took the coward’s way out instead, pressing her back into the wall so that all he saw was brick. She enjoyed that too, giggling at him.
The fist closed around his throat as he nipped at hers. Dark wasn’t where he tended to go, not even on the page. Light, brief, fun. Maybe this would be two out of three at best. ”Maybe pulling out of you what you are’s my wildest fantasy,” he joked dryly. He wasn’t Jnr, games weren’t usually his thing and this felt like it was flipping from mere seduction into the sort of game where he definitely wasn’t in charge of the board.
A gasp was torn out of his throat as Hannya grabbed at his hair and pulled his head back to look at him. Oh yeah, there was her move, the roughness he’d expected. Mitch let out a little bark of laughter, his eyes rolling to meet hers at that hiss. ”I had the feeling it was gonna get rough anyway. This don’t look like it’s the sort of place that babies you.” He tried to twist his head in the direction of the vampire as proof.
Not straining against her hold for long, Mitch let his head ease around. Eyes fixed on hers, his fingers tightening into the soft cradle of her hips, Mitch let himself change. It didn’t bring the pain it had when he was younger. His body still fought it, muscles tightening, going hard as rock for a moment as they shifted, bones creaked in a way that had him making a small sound. In seconds he was someone else though, slightly bigger, hair redder and spiked into an almost high top now. Eyes greener, his beard thicker. Not a complete change, although he could’ve had her looking right back at herself. ”I think I’ve made my move, Hannya. What … are … you?” With each word he strained harder against her hold, drawing her in until she was tight against him and he’d have felt every shift in her.
Tagged: HANNYA * Word Count: 684 |
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HANNYA
Demon
Posts: 157
Played by:
Julia
"Do you hate that you love me or do you love that you hate me?"
Last seen Nov 11, 2024 17:12:57 GMT
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Post by HANNYA on Apr 17, 2022 2:59:39 GMT
━ make you beg for it, plead for it, until you feel like you breathe for it ━
Thankfully (for him), he made the right choice. Hannya watched as his hair changed between her digits, turning coppery, perhaps forcing more of a bend as he got a little bigger. Mitchell’s face shifted just barely, altered enough for her to see, though Hannya wasn’t terribly impressed. At least it was an answer. “Nice parlour trick.” She muttered lamely, frowning back at him.
Still, the demon kept him in place, giving another warning yank sideways (which was now downwards for him) to get him to stop moving. However, she didn’t mind him pulling her closer, and leaned into his face, her expression growing cruel. Her eyes shifted just as his face had, though she was confident that her move was far superior. With dark, soulless eyes, she smirked again, purring, “What’s that song again? Bat Outta Hell?” Hannya cackled, pulling his head in a light, almost playful, circle before she released him. Black became hazel in an instant, and her hand dropped to take his. “‘Nough of that, baby. Let’s play, huh?” Humming the song to herself, the demon led Mitch to the bar, getting him another drink for his troubles.
There was enough to keep them preoccupied for a little while out here, though Hannya’s final play was getting him in the back, to one of those dark and decrepit rooms for fun that was a little more her speed.
MITCHELL DAVIS | wanna wrap w yours or even here? up to youuu |
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MITCHELL DAVIS
Shapeshifter
Posts: 63
Played by:
Ange
Last seen Oct 23, 2024 18:07:47 GMT
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Post by MITCHELL DAVIS on May 29, 2022 17:00:43 GMT
It was Hollywood bullshit that you heard a land mine click when you stepped on it. There wasn’t enough time to hear anything before the pressure of your weight blew you into chum. In the outrageous chance that the mine malfunctioned it wouldn’t have clicked in the first place and your chances of getting out of there without crapping your pants and making sense of it all were hovering at just about a zero. Mitch was pretty sure he heard a tiny click in his head now though. He’d waded right into some sort of mine field and his chances of getting out of it untouched were hovering right about a zero too. The real difference was that he wasn’t gonna crap his pants at all of this.
He strapped on those big balls, daring to laugh as Hannya tangled her fingers into his hair and pulled. They’d made it through dozens of minefields and he hadn’t lost anything but his career yet. His teeth bared at her, meeting that wicked smile with a half grimace of his own. In an hour or two he’d strut out of here untouched again … not letting that tremor run through him (adrenalin didn’t just disappear, it fucked you up royally when it was done with you) until he was outside.
She might have had tricks up her sleeve to break him but he had his too. Mitch displayed them as he transformed himself in her grip – not enough to put a real strain on him but enough to have her frowning at him. The chuckle rolled this time, fingers biting in her flesh with as much force as she used on his hair. ”It does well enough. I could turn myself into you … how would that feel, honey? Looking right back at yourself.” There was probably someone out there who’d shudder at the idea of it, the right kind of shudder, the one that spread heat under your skin as you got your damn twisted kicks. Maybe there was enough ego there in that curvy package for Hannya to want it but he’d been the one she’d dragged down from upstairs and so he didn’t bother with the second shift. He just went with her as she pulled at him again.
Mitch went with her, hissing out something between the lingering pleasure and pain as she hauled him down. His hand peeled off of her hip, closing around the wrist of the hand holding him as her eyes changed. The hazel depths that had held that glint of trouble before turned a starless black, almost bottomless, looking like they could drink him straight in. A black hole in human form. ”Fuck,” he breathed, unsure if he was gonna be able to consider himself unscathed when he got out of there after all.
Nut up, man. The team wasn’t there to push him on with jeers and elbows but Mitch could almost hear them in the back of his head as Hannya slowly let go of him. He’d do as he’d just said, give her her fun, maybe get some of his, and then he’d hold his damn head up as he strolled out and kicked himself in his damn ass for it. What should be have expected for shoving his hand in that hot hornet’s nest?
Dropping his head into the crook of her neck at the bar, his body pressed in behind hers as he dipped, Mitch spoke roughly. ”Nice party trick,” he echoed. Swallowing hard, he did as he’d done upstairs, dragging his tongue over the warmth of her throat as he eyed the bartender and gestured for a shot. Dutch courage that wouldn’t leave him anywhere near hammered enough for the danger to slide away from this. A belt or two and they drifted away, the heat slamming back the minute the door shot. Searing him, making sure he was gonna feel this on that eventually walk of very little shame out of that club within a club.
Click!
Tagged: HANNYA (The End) * Word Count: 671 |
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hope to see you in the discord! 
