on a steel horse I ride
For several long, precarious moments the only sound that existed within that room was the sound of Darcy's fangs as they grated over one another in an audible discord at his predicament. Risque knew. At the very least, she knew he was hiding something. Had he ever truly suspected that she wouldn't? She had a veritable ability above any being Darcy had ever known to discern truth from lie. To know when something or someone was not being entirely....honest with her. She hardly knew of his crime, she merely knew it existed and that alone was enough to implicate him within the depths of her mind. She had been quick to remove that paper from him. His single and only shield. Flimsy as it had been. Darcy left in an ever vulnerable position. A single word from his lips would be all it took to offer her a view of that missing fang. She would never permit such imperfections within Syn. Least of all from himself. Perhaps he should have let that fucking dentist rip it out. Had he truly anticipated Risque would simply never notice that gaping hole until he built up the goddamn nerve to fix it himself? That silence between them seemed to echo ever louder in that quiet space. A silence that, Darcy knew, had gone on for a second too long already. Prolonged silence was equally as telling as dishonest words. His each and every action spoke volumes to his lover and oh how certain he was his predatory Queen already smelled that metaphorical blood in the water. He needed to change that game. Shift her focus. Loosen that noose about his own neck. So many years of gambling for his very life had afforded the southern vampire a near effortless poker face. His features, even now, gave nothing away save for a look of....contemplation. One that seemed to prompt his entire form to suddenly and visibly relax. Each and every line of tension fleeing from his figure.
The vaguest hint of a simper tugged lightly at Darcy's lips. The Southern vampire abruptly moving forward in a blur of vampiric speed to appear suddenly behind his mate. That very position so allowing him to talk freely while hiding that imperfection from his Mistress. Darcy, in that moment, so doing what he knew was unexpected. The cowboy ran to his mate, rather than away as she so seemed to anticipate. The cat upon Risque's lap hissed its discontent with his sudden movement and yet- Darcy was nothing if not practised in ignoring those felines that littered Syn like shadows in the sun. His words were very near honeyed. The vampire offered his lover a near intriguing tale as his chin rested very near on her shoulder in a gesture of affection, or seemingly so. Darcy, in that moment, so seeking to draw her mind away from his own curious behaviour and towards that tale he wove. His words, after all, were hardly untrue. They merely did not tell the entire tale of his unfortunate....accident. Darcy's lips were quick to grace his lover's skin. Her cool, porcelain flesh so perfectly smooth beneath his each and every fluttering, adoring kiss. The cowboy, in that moment, seemed to punctuate his every word with a near worshiping kiss. Darcy nothing f not practised in soothing his lovers ever sharpened moods. This, after all, was a dance they both knew entirely well. A game they had played with one another for centuries. How often Risque still achieved that upper hand. Her dominance a move Darcy was rarely inclined to rally agianst and yet- he had learned to....sidestep her rage over those years. How vehemently he sought to sooth it now with his carefully chosen words.
His lips pressed softly below her ear as her own hand reached upward to stroke his cheek near lovingly. Her touch had always been so entirely....enticing to him. A single stroke of her fingers agianst his jaw was distracting in every fashion. Darcy, for a single moment in time, was nothing if not inclined to relish in her attention. The vampire near melted into that embrace. An eternal weakness he was so utterly powerless agianst each and every time. That craving for her touch was a desire he had never yet managed to master. Her own words were a veritable coo, holding a sweetness akin to honey as she encouraged him to tell her about 'the big bad hunter'. A simper managed to tug at Darcy's lips once more, the cowboy entirely content to offer his lover more details of that encounter as she reclined within that chair. Her graceful, delicate figure was nothing if not relaxed. Darcy, in turn, seemed to relax agianst her as his lips parted once more to do exactly as she asked and tell her more of that disagreeable encounter from last night. Her hand brushed lower agianst his neck, Darcy oblivious to the way her fingers gently ensnared the chain at his neck- until she pulled just enough to allow him to feel it.
That reaction was very near instantaneous- and the very kind Darcy had ceased to give since his earliest days at her side. The southern vampire near reeled backwards in a sudden burst of speed. That sudden jerk prompted Risque to tumble back in turn as her fingers gripped more tightly at his chain. The cat upon his lover's lap was veritably launched with that action, the irritated animal hissing its outrage as it struggled to land upon its feet and flee across the room. Risque's free hand reached outward with her own vampiric reflex to seize the desk, the feline Queen left precariously balanced upon the hindlegs of the chair alone- one hand gripping her desk, the other gripping Darcy himself. That sudden realisation of his own action seemed to strike Darcy in the same moment as that look of outrage and confusion danced across Risque's own features. The pair, in that moment, in nothing short of a precarious position. Any further movement from Darcy himself would see Risque tumble to the ground. The southern cowboy, wisely, remained exactly where he stood in that moment as his lips parted. Whatever words he had been about to offer, however, so hardly managed to claw free of his throat. That singular parting of his lips so offered his lover a view of that missing fang. Her features abruptly contorted into a look Darcy was so hardly assured he had never seen before.
The sudden, audible gasp that left his lover's lips prompted an abrupt look of surprise to his own. In all their years together he could count upon a singular hand the amount of times he had ever heard her gasp. That very gesture never before directed toward him. This was new ground. This was unchartered territory. This was a mood he had never before dealt with and oh how reluctant he was to explore that unstable footing he danced precariously upon the edge off. The truth of hsi story left his lips near abruptly, that early evening visit to the dentist and his refusal to allow the man to remove his broken fang seemed to prompt little from Risque save the sharp utterance of his name. That single word prompted his silence. Risque's native French abruptly left her lips then. Darcy was capable of understanding only a few of those words and yet how certain he was that she questioned just what he had done. This, she insisted in that English once more, was not fixed. Risque's fingers seemed to tighten on that chain. That subtle act prompted a look near wild to find Darcy's mismatched gaze again and yet- he so hardly moved. Not yet. That southern drawl that parted his lips so instead offering a veritable threat. Any attempt to drag him forward so sure to result in his pulling her from that chair entirely.
His lover's hypnotic gaze narrowed dangerously in that moment, her words, this time, a veritable hiss that he would not dare pull her over. That undercurrent of anger within each word was distinctly clear and oh how certain Darcy was that he had pressed too far upon that line this time. Would he truly pull her from that very chair? Would he risk allowing his own mate to fall to the ground in an effort to prevent her reaching for his injured fang? How hardly he knew that answer himself. He had never before sustained....this sort of injury. Every fibre within his very being was....reluctant to allow her to reach for him. His instinct and nature for self-preservation warred wildly agianst that will to submit as he so often did. To allow her to touch him wherever she desired- as was surely her right and he had allowed for well over a century. After all, he had been trained to do just that. That veritable....wildness within himself near a shock to Darcy in turn and yet his fangs, it seemed, were a weapon he was unwilling to offer freely to any other. That stalemate between them seemed to exist for but a second longer before Risque's hand abruptly released him, the vampiric Queen taking that opportunity to pull herself upright once more and yet- no sooner had her chair found its place upon the floor than the hypnotic Queen had risen to her feet with fluid ease. Her heels clicked upon that floor as she strode towards him. One step. Two. Her every action was a silent command to stay and how certainly he knew it. That demand to let her see echoed within that space as she all but prowled forward.
Darcy's mismatched gaze was quick to avoid her own, that act nothing short of submissive...appeasing in every way. An effort to yield to her dominance and sooth her precarious mood. This, after all, was a mood he did not know. Not well enough to judge. Not yet. His lips pulled back near obediently from his fangs, his head turning ever so slightly to offer her an unhindered view of that broken fang- or what remained of it. At least until she drew a step too close. His body seemed to lean near involuntarily away from her, though his feet remained firmly upon the ground. Each step closer seemed to prompt the vampiric cowboy to lean further and further away until his mismatched gaze dared to shift to meet her own. That very look within them near....wild once more. Darcy, in that moment was nothing if not trying to remain still. How surely he would have been sweating were he human from that effort alone. It was that fifth step forward from his mate that seemed to force the cowboy to take his first true step back and yet...how readily he backed towards that silver wall. That singular wall, littered with restraints, was so distinctly far from where he desired to be and yet that office door was across the entire room. He would never reach it before Risque locked it from beneath her desk. The subtlest of movements from his lover brought his gaze sharply back towards her, Darcy, once more, taking another step back.
That word was so hardly a question, nor a plea, nor a warning, rather- a statement. That singular word holding within it a veritable wealth of meaning before jaw seemed to tighten once more, his lips falling over his fangs, concealing them from view. How loath he was to....step back from her as he had done. His unwillingness to disobey her desire was surely clear upon every line of his features and yet how certain he was she would offer him nothing but pain if she managed to get a hold of him once more. That silence between them seemed to exist for longer still, noether daring to move for a single moment before the smallest of shifts from Risque's figure so gaze away her intention to step forward again. That, it seemed, the veritable final straw upon Darcy's ability to stand. A second burst of speed seemed to erupt from the cowboy then. Darcy all but bolting to that far side of the room and beside her office door. The vampire, for now, making no move to open it and yet a veritable room of space existed between them now. Darcy's own head shook softly, the vampire seemingly...discontent with himself and his own actions yet....that war within himself, that war to stand still had been lost. There was little to do save for salvage what he could from that veritable defeat. She would punish him for this he was certain- and surely he deserved it and yet- even the very threat of that punishment so hardly seemed capable of overruling that instinct to protect his fang- or what remained of it.
"Yar 'ad yar look. Das all ya asked for. I let ya look. I did what ya asked."
His gaze lingered upon her, that wariness hardly faltering. How vehemently he refused to beg, to plead, to carry on like some damn fool. Those were nothing but signs of weakness and how he refused to display such things in front of his Queen. His inability to stand had surely spoken volumes as it was and how he....loathed himself for it. Yet this was an instinct he could not overrule.
A growl seemed to rise abruptly within the cowboys throat then. Darcy appeared very near....distressed in that moment. His right hand balled suddenly into a fist, that fist slamming backwards into the wall behind him with near enough force to crack that plaster. That frustration upon his figure was so distinctly clear. Darcy was nothing if not....frustrated at himself and his distinct inability to do as asked. Frustrated at his own...instinct.
How bitter those words tasted on his tongue. His features seemed to twist slightly as if that bitterness was almost palpable. He couldn't let her reach for his fang.....even if he was goddamn trying.
I'm wanted, Dead or Alive