There was something almost...compelling in watching those cats brawl. It was predatory, addictive, satisfying on some level. Both vampires seemed to find something near pleasureable in those hisses and yowls as Princess and the ginger tom struck violently at one another over and over again. Risque had surely known that Tom was prone to lose. Darcy's own Lynx was far larger, faster and far more aggressive. The Southern vampire distinctly content to take that bet if only for how likely he was to win it. Darcy, in that moment, holding a distinct faith that his mate would not use her affinities to lessen those odds and secure her own victory. When it came to those matters of bloodshed Risque so seemed to....enjoy the gamble. Yet, he had nearly stumbled into her own trap all the same. The vampiric woman declaring her own clouded leopard would be the next challenger. That was a battle far more evenly matched and one Darcy was far less willing to wager on. How well he had established himself as a gambling man and yet- how rarely he gambled when those odds were not in his favour. No true professional ever did. Those brawling cats were momentarily forgotten in the wake of a particular male model appearing upon the television. Risque's near casual comment that he looked akin to Tetradore was quick to pull a snarl from the depths of Darcy's throat. The mere name of that fucking panther enough to stoke as the ever present wound Tetradore presence seemed to create within the vampire. Risque, time and time again, content to press at that very wound if only to draw a little more blood from it. How aware Darcy was of her intentions- of the way she wound him tighter and tighter only to forbid him to bring any harm to her favoured pet and yet......how powerless he was to stop her. How he fell for that torment over and over again. Darcy was simply.....incapable of controlling that jealousy that all but burned at his veins. Tetradore. Always fucking Tetradore.
The growl within the Southern vampires words hardly lessened as he made some attempt to conceal that hatred that bled into his tone all the same. Darcy commented that women scared Tetradore so much he was near useless when it came to them. Women continuing to throw themselves at him over and over again. Why Tetradore had simply never embraced that female attention he hardly knew. Maybe he was gay. Or roken. Or fucking defective. Did it even matter? The sudden shrieking hiss of that tom cat as Princess lunged upon it to deliver the striking blow brought the attention of both vampires back to that brawl. The hot, sweet scent of blood stained that air with its potent pull. Darcy, in response to that scent, reached for his wine once more. His tongue was near savouring those hints of blood that danced within the wine. The man near oblivious to that slow, languid hold that wine had taken over his senses. Lowering his inhibitions to some accent. Filing off the rough edges of his notorious temper. The ginger tom was all but tossed from the bed as Princess spat after him, the female Lynx affording her downed opponent afinal growl before beginning to groom her fur back into place. Misplaced fur on a cat, Darcy had come to learn, was an intolerable thing. The vampire took no small amount of pleasure in rubbing Tetradore's dark black fur entirely the wrong way at any given chance. For now however, his mismatched gaze shifted with a distinct pride from that winning feline and back to his mate. The man was unable to prevent that winning grin that found his lips. How much better that need seemed without that housecat upon it and yet...Mekel still loomed- and how Risque knew it.
The vampiric Queen rose abruptly to her feet in preparation for that next battle, her toe reaching out, jabbing at Darcy in a command for his attention before demanding his phone be put away if only to assure his full attention was upon that loss he was surely about to receive. How he disliked those odds and yet- how unwilling he was to disobey his lover. Darcy nothing if not obedient. His submissive-ness to his mate near flawless even now. The vampire moved to flick that phone off before obediently placing it upon the charger, his gaze turned upward to his lover. Risque, satisfied with his attention, so silently seemed to summon that clouded leopard forward. The far larger, heavier feline seemed to creep from the darkness. Darcy's gaze shifted briefly to his own lynx. Princess still cleaning herself from that last brawl. That battle was hardly fair. Even with those stakes undecided Darcy was near loath to lose. Worse- if Princess did not provide a decent enough fight Risque was sure to make her displeasure known. How well he had come to know his mate over the years. Darcy so already having deduced at least some of her intent in this. The vampire bold enough to suggest Princess at least be able to rest first. That brawl, after all, would surely be far less spectacular if one competitor was already spent.
Darcy's gaze remained fixated upon Risque as her features frowned, the woman clearly considering that request before affording Princess three minutes and not a second more. Darcy' own head nodded in that simple, silent agreement before Risque's toe prodded at him again. That jab, he suspected, so merely because she could. Risque the singular and onl being upon that very earth who might be permitted that very act without meeting the tips of his fangs in retaliation. Darcy so merely allowing her those jabs. The vampire all but conditioned to accept them at her will and pleasure. How well trained he was. Those very nudges, however, so seemed to stoke an entirely different....desire within the vampire. A near primal and innate urge that had gone all but ignored for....well over a century and yet here and now, with that Faw-Blood wine so thickly lacing his veins those urges seemed closer, more tangible and far easier to give into. That desire to play with his mate suddenly tugging with potent temptation at his mind. Her name was utter softly then. Enough to draw her attention, before his leg struck out to knock hers from beneath her and send her toppling gently to the bed beneath him. Her momentary shock at an action so bold perhaps rendering her briefly stunned. That small, minute opening all that Darcy required.
The Southern vampire moved with that unnatural, unholy speed their species possessed to all but spring upon his mate. It was hardly difficult to maneuver her as he desired, Darcy easily straddled her form, pinning Risque beneath him despite that growl of warning and the flash of her teeth. Her arms were easily pinned above her head, that position decidedly submissive for her and yet.....his own hardly held any dominance. His entire form was decidedly relaxed in every sense. His hold upon her nothing short of lose and wholly- playful. How new that situation was for them both. Darcy never before having dared to attempt to coax play from the vampire Queen and yet here, alone in the depths of their bedroom, were such things not permitted? She was more than just his mistress after all. She was his mate. That bond they shared had been changed and forged anew the very night she had agreed to bind herself to him. His desire for her had hard lessened. Indeed, it had increased all the more and yet, that shift in their relationship had prompted a shift in his demeanor in turn. It was subtle, understanded, buried beneath that toughened exterior and yet a part of Darcy existed that simply wanted to enjoy that moment with his lover. To strengthen those ties between them in a different fashion. Darcy so desired to explore a different side of their relationship even if he hardly understood those reasons or desires. The Southern vampire, after all, was hardly known for being playful. His aggressive nature and violent tendencies far outweighing any gentleness and yet that....need....was almost innate. Darcy attempted to coax Risque into joining that game even if a part of him remained wary of her poor reaction all at once. He was playful- not foolish.
Darcy could hardly help the chuckle that found him in the wake of the baffled look upon his lover's features. Risque was almost....slow to react, such was her apparent surprise. The vampire taking that moment to further coax at those desires within her- wary though he remained of her ever fickle moods. Darcy lent forward easily then, his lips pressed to her neck, that warning prompted him to pause barely a moment- affording her that chance to understand he was hardly attempting to dominate her, to challenge her nor upset that delicate hierarchy between them. Indeed, his actions held no dominance at all. His lips trailed smoothly along her neck. The points of his fangs aring to brush agianst her perfect, porcelain skin and yet he hardly bit down- rather- he allowed his lips to press to that flesh in an affection, gentle kiss. That gesture was surprisingly tender in every sense. He leaned smoothly backward then- only to declare he was winning. This is an entirely new game. One with rules neither of them knew or understood. Rules Darcy was content to craft as they went. Risque, surely, would not continue to allow him that easy victory. Yet how dangerously precarious that game was. How fickle that peace. How easily it might yet turn into a hissing, a snarling bloodsport upon that very bed the mere moment one of them reacted...poorly.
Risques sudden words drew his gaze downward. The woman demanded to know whether he had lost his mind. Darcy's own features shifted slightly as if contemplating that question. He felt....unusually.....content. Perhaps he had lost his mind and yet it seemed a pleasant enough experience that he was hardly inclined to question it. That wine really was fucking glorious. Another simper found his lips, that grin almost lazy. Risque's words having lacked any true....drive behind them even despite that tone. His head shook.
"Naw, I ain't lost me mind, yar just to slow."
That tease fell easily from him once more. Those words were the very kind he would hardly dare utter in any normal moment and yet- this was far from...normal. His hands moved to release her. His grip was barely having relaxed before Risque struck. Her speed was truly....incredible when she chose to deploy it. She was faster than him and yet- she always had been. With age came power. Her age far superior to his own. Darcy so barely capable of gleaning his surroundings before his back struck the bed. The vampire suddenly beneath his mate now as her hand seized his throat, her fingers finding those cartelignouns grooves before digging in ever so slightly. Her grip was...firm, that pressure felt and yet it was hardly as punishing as she was capable off. Risque seemed to dance upon the edge of that game. Her own words a tease now.
"Maybe I ain-"
His voice was cut short, her knee pressing suddenly upward and into his groin. That decidedly sensitive area immediately garnered his attention. The growl that rumbled in his throat so hardly aggressive. Indeed that sound remained distinctly playful in every sense even with that pressure at his groin. He looked like a calf about to be...swine tied? His own head tilted near curiously, Risques fingers loosened at his throat, stroking at that skin in a fashion that was distinctly....pleasurable as it was teasing. His mate appearing decidedly pleased with herself with that choice of word. Hogtied. She meant hogtied.
"I dun reckon I mind bein' swine tied wit you, Darlin'."
Risques own laughter seemed to threaten to hum free of her lips then as she leant back. Her own figure was relaxed, content, the woman idly eyeing her nails as Darcy sat up in turn- as best as he could without dislodging Risque. His hand reaching up suddenly, capturing hers within his own, his fingers interlacing with hers. Darcy content to eye their joined hands momentarily. His mismatched gaze seeming to inspect her near flawless skin and his own slightly rougher hands in return.
"Dat colour suits yar nails."
Her drew their hands forward, his lips pressed to the back of her hand in an near age-old gesture and yet that very act was no more than a distraction once more, Darcy abruptly pushing back agianst her. Those vampires a veritable blur as Darcy changed their positions once more. The pair, this time, landing side by side. Darcy content to draw Risque up and agianst him, her back to his chest in that decidedly traditional...spooning position. Darcy so daring to lean all the more into her, that act so hardly sexual in any sense, the man simply allowing his lips to find her ear. Darcy wholly content to offer that appendage a sudden, gentle play bite. A teasing, growl rose within his throat as he did.
"I was wonderin' somethin'."
The vampire lent back gently, his fingers softly released her own, Darcy content to lay agianst her still as his head lent agianst his hand propped up by his elbow, his now free hand rested softly at her waist. The vampire....enjoyed that close contact. That playful teasing. Both of them distinctly equal within that new position.
"I was thinkin' 'bout enterin' a rodeo in a couple months in da next city over, once dis virus stuff ain't round no more. Ain't given me 'orse a run in a few weeks. Set' needs da work. Good prize money. You wanna come watch?"
Risque so rarely took interest in those sporting events. The Vampiric Queen tended to find rodeos dusty, dirty and smelling of animals. Darcy inclined to gauge her interest in that event all the same. After all, some of those other boys had their partners there. Darcy damned near certain none of the other cowboys had a woman like Risque. Was it such a crime to want to show her off a little? Darcy's mismatched gaze shifted briefly toward that clock. The first rays of sun sure to rise at any moment now. The vampire uninclined to attempt to fight that rising sun much longer. Darcy shifted just so to reach down and pull that blanket up and over them both, the vampire settling agianst his mate once more. The man entirely...curious as to whether Risque might let him sleep in that position. His lover so often demanded her space even within that bed. Maybe, for one night, she'd let him hold her.
We are rough men and used to rough ways.