This was by far the most dangerous game they had ever played. This position, this moment, was far more precarious then it had ever been before as the vampiric pair lingered upon the proverbial knife's edge of their own natures. To place Risque beneath him was to dare to rise agianst her own dominating nature. To command that moment was to dare Darcy's own control not to falter even beneath her relentless assault and the very release she had denied him only hours before. That want within his own body was near all consuming. To have his lover beneath him was beyond so merely arousing. In all those years they had been together he had been denied any chance to take her this way. To have her feel the weight of him atop her, to have command of that intercourse as he desired. To fuck her. Rather than the other way around. Risque, until now, so often content to merely ride him for her own pleasure. That release she offered him his reward for pleasuring her in turn and yet tonight that delicate balance of control had shifted and oh- how that southern cowboy relished in that chance to command. To live out that veritable fantasy. A hiss of disdain at that newfound position was near spat free of his mates lips and yet Darcy so hardly paid that sound any heed as he kept her beneath him. Her hands lifted to press into his back. Her talon-like fingernails threatened to scrape and his flesh and yet in that moment the southern vampire so hardly cared as his lips crushed to her own with an unrelenting force. That very kiss so designed, once more, to lull that dominant creature within his own mate. To sooth its fury. To bend it to his will beneath that vale of desire.

The feel of her bare, naked chest agianst his own was nothing short of glorious. The press of her breasts so distinctly arousing. The feel of flesh on flesh so at last coaxing a groan of pleasure from within the depths of his throat as Darcy's hands slid downward to catch the hem of Risques jeans and underwear. Those garments slid from her body in a single motion. His lover left naked before him. Her form was as utterly perfect as he recalled it to be. A true goddess in every fashion- and so entirely his own for the taking. His lips at her mouth so hardly ceased. That taste of her was nothing short of erotic. A taste he near craved in those heated moments and yet how aware he was of that shift beneath him, of the press of her hand to his shoulder and her clear intent to shift their positions once more. To place herself back on top as she so often did. The snarl that ripped free of his throat in response to that mere shift of muscle was entangled within a feral growl. That sound so barely having managed to free itself from his throat then Darcy's head turned. The vampire striking with a potent, violent intent as his fangs buried within the flesh of his lovers offending arm. That strike far too fast for the vampiric queen to avoid. That sudden, utter, shocking loss of control was so balantalty clear. Darcy himself seemed near...taken aback by his own animalistic assault. He had not bitten her like that in years. Centuries. Not since the earliest days of his training beneath her when his frustration had gotten the better of him. When he had been more animal than man. When he had snapped at her like one of her unruly pets and oh how he had been made to regret it then. That punishment was so severe he had never yet committed that treason again no matter how far she pushed him. Not until now.

Yet, oh, how that situation had changed.

Darcy's teeth were nearly as quick to release as they had been to bite and yet those razored fangs had done their damage as blood all but poured from that wound to run down his lover's arm. Staining her porcelain flesh in that delicious, perfect paint. A hiss of outrage rose within his lover's throat as Darcy's hand simply reached to ensnare her wrist within his powerful grasp, drawing her arm back towards him as his mismatched gaze shifted to meet her own. That eye contact, this time, so utterly unbroken as it often was. No part of the southern cowboy, tonight, seemed inclined to submit as he so often did. How readily it seemed Darcy had seized that control of himself once more and yet this new creature that had formed in that wake of that fracture of sanity was something far....darker. Something so entirely of Risque's own making. A creature designed to relish in that utter chaotic control. That utterance of 'sorry' seemed only to prompt a renewed fury to blaze within his lover's eyes as if she too relised his words carried no weight, no true apology. Her words, when they came, were a darkly dangerous utterance. Each syllable a poisoned barb upon her tongue. You. Bit. Me. Her hand rose to seize him by the throat, her fingers tightening as she uttered his crime as his gaze met her own with unyielding force. Oh- how well he understood his crime and yet how beyond bold he had become in the wake of it. The Southern Vampire so seemed to find an entirely new...persona within the depths of that truck and with his very life so balanced precariously upon his mates' whims. The scent of that blood was still so fresh.

His head simply turned, his gaze hardly breaking from her own before he brought her wrist to his lips. His tongue swept along that bite wound, his saliva coaxing it to heal even as he near greedily fed upon that ruby liquid. A moan of pleasure rose from within the depths of his throat in response to that taste. Darcy so hardly seemed to notice the hand at his throat or the way the force of her grip pressed that steel chain about his neck only further into his flesh. The taste of her was divine. He wanted more. More of that blood. His lips swept further down her arm, his fangs abruptly piercing flesh again and again until her arm flowed a near river of red. Darcy, in that moment, so expertly combining those sensations of pain and pleasure as he mauled and caressed all in one. Risque's leg shifted, wrapping around him, drawing him closer as his own hips shifted, grinding agianst her. Seeking that glorious friction as the hardened length of himself near strained agianst his pants. That want, that desire, that need to feed, to fuck, to relish in his mate in every way so seemed to combine. He wanted all of her. In every way. Darcy, in that singular moment, so seeming to linger upon the precipice of perfect chaotic control .

Each bite of his fangs seemed to prompt another roll of his hips, each more urgent than the last as a moan left Risques own throat. That sound nothing short of arousing to his ears. That game had become something else entirely. That blood appeared near black within the half light as it stained them both. The interior of that truck, in turn, seemed to suffer that same assault even despite the rapidness with which his mate healed Darcy seemed only content to pull her apart again and again. Her hand released from his throat as her fingers reached for the button of his own jeans. He felt her limbs agianst him, expertly pushing down his jeans and boxer shorts as the heels of her boots raked agianst the flesh of his thighs. That very act prompted a hiss of agianst the flesh of her arm and yet that momentary pain seemed only to blend with the sheer pleasure of the taste of that blood as it ran so thick and hot down his throat. Darcy nearly lost within that taste and the feel of her agianst him, that want for more of both and yet- her hand so suddenly embraced him, circling about that hardened length with a force and pressure enough to pierce even that haze of bloodlust. His gaze shifted toward her again, as his tongue swept across his lips. Her body arched into him, tormenting him, teasing him as his own hips shifted forward again with every desire to take her here and now, to enter her and yet her own hand prevented it. Her grip upon him forcing a groan from his lips. How readily she seemed to....embrace the very thing he had become in that moment. As if she adored every sharp edge and that very unpredictability that seemed to cling to his form. After all, was he anything other than what she had crafted him to be? Her words seemed to coax a simper to his lips before those French lyrics and that compliment, of sorts, seemed to each his lover a bloodied grin. He could hear that desire within her own lyrics, that hungered thirst. He was just as bad as her? His head tilted ever so slightly. His mind near...slow to process those words through that haze of bloodied want. His ords, when they came, were very near a growl.

"Dat might be da nicest ting yar ever said ta me."

Her head rose in near the same moment to seize his lips with her own. That kiss nothing short of violent, predatory and volatile in its wicked embrace. Her teeth sliced at his own lips, that pain sparking like wildfire through his system and yet how eagerly her returned that near violent kiss as his own teeth caught at her tongue. Both vampires, in that moment, becoming all the more ardent. Her hand loosened its grip upon him, Darcy distinctly away of that lack of pressure upon that most sensitive part of his figure and yet his groin ached with that arousal. That need a desire he could ignore no longer. That hand that held her wrist so suddenly seemed to tighten once more, his free hand abruptly reaching for her other wrist only to suddenly lift her hands above her head. Pinning her arms above her. Preventing her from reaching for him again. Removing that control from her as she had done to him so many times before. His lips lifted from her own. Darcy so leaning over her entirely now as that blood fell from his lips onto her own. Risque,for the first time, a veritable prisoner beneath him.

"Risque-"

That singular word was so hardly uttered as it usually was. Her name, this time, uttered like a veritable command. One designed to hold her attention as she remained near pinned beneath him. Darcy so waiting until the hypnotic blue of her gaze met his own as his hips shifted just so, positioning that length of himself at her entrance.

"Dun make me flip ya over."

The veritable threat to to roll her over if she did not behave was met with that sudden thrust of his hips. Darcy entered her in a single, firm thrust. The sheer feel of her figure around him, that utter tightness, was nothing short of glorious. The cowboy so unable to prevent that groan of satisfaction as his hips thrust over and over again, sheathing himself within her entirely. Fucking his lover just as he desired. His hands, however, so continued to keep her own above her head before he lent smoothly forward, his lips hovering just above her own as if he intended to steal a final, passionate kiss...a simper so suddenly seeming to form upon then. That look was nothing short of....teasingly predatory. Darcy's head shifted near abruptly once more, only for his lips to part and those wicked fangs to bite into his lover's neck- that blood flowing like a river down her porcelain flesh and over his teeth and tongue in that utterly sweet sensation.

What a monster she had created.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet
Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth