on a steel horse I ride

'Distinguished' was not the description the Southern cowboy had anticipated from his lover as Risque so critically eyed the wound left within his gum from her removal of the offending, broken fang. 'Distinguished' so made it seem almost...complimentary when Darcy was assured that damn big hole was anything but. Risque, if nothing else, seemed to fascinate herself with that macabre wound, that blood that had freely flowed from it already beginning to lessen as his own vampiric healing saw fit to attempt to seal off that injury. The vampiric queen seemed to consider her words further then, nestled within his lap as she was, her lyrics a veritable muse as she insisted that hole was bigger then she had anticipated- though whether such a thing was unique to Dary himself or merely a trait of his subspecies remained to be seen. A soft, almost teasing snort echoed softly from within the cowboy then. Darcy's often volatile move so readily seeming....soothed in the aftermath of the assault agianst his fang. That newfound intimacy between the pair was distinctly subtle and yet how readily its effects seem to linger all the same.

"Reckon everything' 'bout me is jus bigger eh?"

His blue eye rose, those words a truly rare tease. The kind Darcy so hardly cared to engage within and yet, alone within that room and away from the prying eyes of the rest of Syn the vampiric cowboy was inclined to....relax to some degree. That volatile, violent shield lowered for Risque alone. The vampiric pair, somehow, having found entirely new ground to stand upon. An equality so fragile and delicate and yet one that seemed to rest within the air. Even if Darcywas near assured his words would achieve little more then a look of displeasure from his lover. Neither of them,after all, cared to engage in 'jokes' very often. That singular sentence a glimpse into something entirely more human.Fleeting as it was.

"I was thinkin' yar was gonna say it looked fascinatin', or one og yar fancy French words."

That Southern drawl easily fell from his lips once more as he answered that query on just what he had thought she would say. Risque, after all, so seemed to find a near macabre satisfaction in examining wounds of any kind. The Vampiric Queen so often relishing in peeling back the layers of any victim unfortunate enough to fascinate her curiosity in just that fashion. How surprising that it was merely the size of the hole alone that had fascinated his lover tonight.Her wicked mind, in so many ways, a veritable mystery to him still. Yet how he adored its very twists and turns. It was that very mention of feeding, however, that seemed to prompt that hunger to claw at his throat. Those insidious talons of want near rabidly bayed for blood. Reminding the vampire just how hungry he had become in the wake of that blood loss. Minor as it was. The cowboys soft utterance that he would retreat to the basement to see to ridding them of one of their older products upon the cusp of their use by date prompted a singular, sharp command from his Mistress. ThatFrench word for 'no' one of the first Darcy had ever learned in his Queens native tongue. It's utterance now, however, so readily saw his mismatched gaze cut to her own. That obedience still distinctly clear as he simply awaited her very instruction, a hint of curiosity upon his features. Did she intend to deny him that meal as punishment for losing his fang? Perhaps he deserved such a thing even if he had seen to the destruction of the being who had caused it.

Risque's words slipped into that momentary silence like honeyed silk. The offer of her own blood so instantly captivated the cowboys attention once more. He had fed from his lover before within the throes of sex. Thatcombination of pleasure and pain and addictive concoction that Risque herself had taught him to relish within and yet- there was a stark difference between that exchange of blood in those heated, erotic moments and an off of the blood in her veins to heal. Never before, in well over a century, had Risque offered him that. That was a level of intimacy beyond any they had shared so far. An offer by his mate to share her very lifeforce with nothing from him in turn. How readily Darcy's gaze narrowed for the barest of moments as if....wary of such an offer, as if he near anticipated some ruse within those lyrics and yet her voice held no hint of hidden malice and oh- how that hunger spiked at the mere thought of her blood. That delectable treat. A reward of the highest order he was so rarely given. Her blood would heal him faster than any other. Darcy, in that moment, unable to hide that very want from his features as his gaze remained upon her own. The parameters of their relationship readily shifting once more. His sheer....possessiveness of her only seeming to grow. She did love him. He was certain of it. Why else would she offer her own blood? That very thought, potent in its embrace, seemed to settle within the depths of the Ravagers mind as he eased himself more upright. His Queen settled still within his lap. A grin readily worked its way to his features as that simple realization seemed to find place within his thoughts. Risques' very insistence that he appeared like a cat who had gotten the cream even before that bite served only to prompt a soft chuckle from the depths of his throat. How little it seemed she recognised the weight of what she offered and yet- he had not anticipated she would. In this game of love he had always been several steps ahead.

Darcy's hands shifted then, settling upon her waist, that grip entirely firm, pulling her closer towards him,seeking that feel of her agianst him as his lips abruptly found her own.Thatkiss was nothing short or ardent, the taste of her lips alon coaxing a soft sound of pleasure from within the southern man. Risque's tongue so easily caressed his own, the intimacy of that kiss deepening, Darcy lingering upon that very edge of his own control if only for how it would be to ignite that kiss all more. To give in to those basal, sexual wants that so often went hand in hand with blood and yet,tonight, Darcy strove for more. His lips pulled gently backward from her own, his voice uttering her name, that word little more than a whispered prayer. Spoken with every bit of reverence he was assured his Queen deserved as her hands settled upon his shoulders. Thatword, however, seemed to linger as he lent forward once more, his lips, this time,pressed delicately to her own throat. Darcy offered that sensitive, delicate skin a gentleness that betrayed his very species as he patterned that flesh in those sensual,sweet kisses. Risque's own head tilted backward near instinctively, offering him only more of her throat,her own trust within him so implicit as his lips parted to softly utter those further words. I know. Yet,once more, those words were left to linger. Darcy so seemingly in no hurry as his lips found the very vein he searched for beneath her skin. Thathum of her blood was like a siren call. He could almost taste it now and yet....there was more to say. Those final words were very near whispered- the boldest of declarations. For everything she could not say he would say it for her. Declare it for her. He knew she loved him- even if she did not know it herself. Yet how little chance he intended to give her to argue. That warning not to flinch so barely uttered before his teeth bit down.

Those wicked, sharpened fangs punctured flesh and vein with violent ease. Her femanine figure seemed to tense and yet that moan that left her lips, a sound of both protest and welcome all at once, so readily saw her figure loosen. That very moan, however, only seemed to prompt the cowboy to bite harder. That response was so purely instinctive as blood all but poured down his throat. Hot and wet and welcomed. That taste was unique to his beloved alone and oh how he relished it. Very drop. Every mouthful. There was no taste more exquisite. How readily her figure leaned into his own, melded with it, a soft sound of simple pleasure echoed from within the depths of his own throat. He was aware, vaguely, of her hand tangling withinhis dark hair and yet he made little move to stop her. His own gaze so simply fluttered closed. Focused upon that taste alone, of the feel of his fangs withinher flesh as he took mouthful after mouthful. That blood was already beginning to work.He could feel it. The sheer amount of her life force more than she had ever gifted before and oh how his body seized that gift with zeal. It was several long moments before his teeth finally released their hold. Darcy did as he so rarely did, sweeping that wound with his tongue, his saliva commanding that blood to cease its flow and the wound to heal before he lent softly away. Thatverylook of life returned to his figure in every sense as a sigh fell from Risques own.

The silence seemed to settle upon them once more. Risques' pale, hypnotic gaze was quick to find his own and yet,this time, Darcy so merely....waited. He knew what he had said. That singular uttered 'wow' from his lover's lips, however, was...unanticipated. Risque so demanding to know how he could say such a thing-before declaring she did not flinch. He had used his teeth upon her a million times and she did not flinch. That, it seemed, was the part of his words she had chosen to focus uponor at least...pretend as such. How assured he was he knew her better than that. How certain he was that those far more potent words had taken hold within the very depths of her mind and yet, here and now, she simply could not bring herself to confront them. Darcy, in that moment, merely allowed a smile to find his lips. A genuine grin. His head softly shook and yet that very gesture held little save for fondness. A rare and yet undeniably display of affection for the woman within his arms. Even despite all she could not say as she insisted he was banned from talking. No. Worse. He was banned from any control of the remote.

"Risque..."

He waited only so long as it took the woman withinhis arms to meet his gaze. That grin still upon his features. His own words were entirely playful and so tainted with a potent affection.

"Shut up."

He leaned forward within that same moment, his lips finding her own again, stealing any more of those words she might try to offer him. Darcy was content to embrace that moment for all it was.

Darcy

I'm wanted, Dead or Alive