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[ It's clear that whatever the truth is, she doesn't want to tell him, but he can't simply leave it alone now. He's known deadly women, of all kinds, and savage men, but he's never seen anyone draw blood quite like that. ]

A temper? No fucking kidding.

[ It's definitely not the whole story, which is a conscious choice on her part, but Vane can settle for it for now. Mostly. ]

You really aren't fucking around with those tiger stripes, are you?

[She looks up at him, from where she's tucked herself in at his side.

Okay.]

My family are part of a group called the Khan.

[That much she can say. It's not like he knows what a Khan is, and if were to know any Hindi he would know it only means king, so it's pretty much a non-secret. No one here really knows what that means just from the outset.]

The Khan are the warrior kings of Asia. It's not a government thing. It's more like a caste, a group in a social order. So from a young age, we're taught to fight. Fight like we mean it.

[She tips her head back, and rolls her shoulders back. There is still fight in her, simmering low in her belly. That rage may have gotten chilly, but it's always burning. She almost wants to make it burn now.]

But I really am not fucking around with the tiger stripes. I'm the Sher Khan of my family. The Queen of Tigers.

[ The Queen of Tigers.

The fact that intricate and strange tribal customs exist on a wide spectrum throughout the world is certainly not unknown to him. Nor does he shy away from them when he encounters them. The stories that get passed around ships and campfires by pirates from all across the world are eaten up with a voracious appetite for deep-rooted, primal things. But he's never come across one like her.

He doesn't believe in shapeshifters. His crew, if they were here, would have their suspicions fleshed out much sooner. All Vane can think about is the strength of it, the power of it. He wants to grab her, for some reason, and not knowing keeps him from doing it. ]

And that's why you'd kill some stupid bastard in a bar fight with barely a moment's hesitation?

[ Well. He shrugs. ]

I'd have smashed his head in too.

[She flashes her teeth at him, sharp, and it's almost a growl and almost a smile.]

That's why you should never underestimate me, but -

[She considers that for a moment. Would she have killed him? She's killed innocent people before but they were all accidents. She's killed men for doing stupid things but never for touching her like that.

Would she have killed him?]

I wasn't going to kill him, probably.

Maybe make sure he never ate solid food again.

[She looks up at him curiously, her eyes bright.]

If he touched you without your consent, or if he touched me without my consent?

[ It makes him smirk a little, amused in spite of the seriousness of their surroundings (it's getting too cold, these days, to be out when the sun goes down), that she must and does give it some serious thought.

And, in fact, the question she asks him then makes him tip his head thoughtfully. ]

Well, I'd say both, but... you clearly wouldn't have needed my help.

[She pats him on the ass, then, pat-pat, like she's approving.]

Well, a girl always does like to know someone will jump to her rescue, even if she doesn't need it.

Ugh. I need a shower.

[ That definitely makes him chuckle, and since she's still leaning into him, his arm slips around her, loose enough for her to easily shrug him off but close enough to be warm. Her blood is up; must be why she doesn't seem to have caught the chill.

He's definitely not a subtle man, however, so he follows it up with: ]

Would you like me to keep you company?

[A pleasant shiver rolls up her back. She thinks about if Billy's in the apartment, and remembers, no, he's not there right now. It's less that she wouldn't bring Charles up as much as it was that she wouldn't bring anyone up if he was there.

She nods, then.]

If you're willing to get on your knees and taste me, yes.

[It's not submission; she wants to see him on his knees anyway.]

[ There's a bit of a challenge that flares there, nevertheless; it's not an unwillingness to comply, so much as the lingering instinct that this woman - this Sher Khan, this Queen of Tigers - ought to prove she deserves it.

Because what the fuck good is a fancy name without the deep trembling behind it? ]

Let's get indoors first, and see how you feel about asking me nicely.

[She can't help it; challenges are in her blood. She can't say no to something that brazen.

She manages to lead the way with his arm around her shoulders, up the elevator. The apartment is warm, comfortable, and lived in; there are signs of Billy here and there, but she doesn't seem concerned.

She lets him in.]

How much blood am I covered in?

[She asks, now that they're in the light, and she can see where she smeared it on him. She takes a moment, and reaches for his cheek.]

You look good covered in blood, you know.

You haven't seen me covered in blood yet.

[ If he even notices the signs of Billy, he doesn't show it. Nothing against Billy, but most women he knows offer monogamy only at their own whim, and that it's very much up to them, not to the men in their lives, how many others they're entertaining at a given time. So as long as it's not a problem for her, it's not a problem for him.

Anyway, the point is that he's definitely been bloodier than this, and he bets she has, too. ]

You wear it like war paint.

[She has; but when she gets that bloody she shifts and licks it off her paws. This is better. She likes that look he's giving her, and she's undoing her hair, turning her head a little so he can see where the sticky blood splashed against her throat, against her smooth skin.]

Do I?

[She's never had a lover who admired the way she wears blood, and she finds it surprisingly hot.]

Come on.

[She tugs him back.]

Do you want to undress me?

[She asks as if it's something he might want to take advantage of. He didn't really see her naked, last time, only mostly naked, and maybe this time she wants to know if he can be patient.]

[ It's effectively obedient, the way that he follows her, because he's got no interest in keeping either of them waiting, but the offer slows him a bit, makes him pause before he reaches for her again.

Would he like to rip her clothes off again, like the first time? Yes, fucking absolutely, obviously. But she's suggesting that he be... nicer about it. And truthfully speaking, he's never been very good at nice. Very easy to ruin it.

But he'll give it a shot.

He reaches out and catches her shirt, and tugs her toward him. The moment before they're nearly flush he catches her, grasping the shirt at the hem, and then goes slow as if he's made a conscious decision to do it as he lifts it up over her head. ]

[It's less nice and more patience; she wants to watch him take her in, every bit of her, because last time it was so fast.

It helps, too, that she wants to keep her eyes on him, too.

She moves close, and reaches back just to unhook her bra, and then moves her hands to his cheeks. It's something that would be tender, except there's no tenderness in her face, there's just a real hunger, a real terrible need.]

I want to take you apart, you know.

[ If she wants to see him admiring her, she gets her chance as soon as she takes off her bra, as Vane runs his hands slowly over her sides and then back up to trace the shape of her breasts with his thumbs. He doesn't touch her much, just yet. The energy is different this time. But not touching her at all isn't really an option. ]

I can tell.

[ Not merely in the way that he wanted to take her apart last time, either. She looks like she'd devour him if she could. ]

You should know I won't go down without a fight.

If you could, I don't think I'd be half as interested in you.

[She watches his hands, but doesn't move them. She allows this, this touch, she wants it. Her nipples are already hardening from just the proximity.]

If you were tame, I would fuck you and let you go. I would have been been satisfied with the first time.

[But he's not. He's a feral thing, like her, and it makes her hungry.

She turns and walks away a little, so he can see the long length of her back, and steps out of her shoes. Her jeans come next, sliding off her legs, until she's just in a pair of silk panties. If he were really a lion, he would smell how wet she is already, her body primed for him, his cock, his hands, his mouth.

She's heading to the bathroom, because really does want that shower.]

[ Good, he thinks (without thinking), good that she recognizes it, that he respects the animal in him, even if it is outshadowed by the animal in her.

His eyes track the pattern of her stripes, down the path that his hands had taken last time. He already knows what he wants to do to her, but holding his desires back lets him see what she does with his patience.

So he follows her, stripping off his shirt as he goes, letting his pants follow, knocking off his boots. He's hard already, but not so hard that he feels desperate to fuck her; this deliciously simmering want is warming him up from the inside out. Only when they're in the bathroom does he press in close behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a suckling kiss into the crook of her neck. ]

[He puts his face in her neck and the feline part can't help but be pleased, as she reaches her hand back to tangle in his hair. He's naked behind her and she wants to turn and look at him, but he isn't the only one who has to be patient right now. She turns her face and catches his mouth to kiss him, licking into his mouth, closing her eyes and feeling everything about him.

He feels solid behind her, and she raises one hip to press against his erection, and this time she's the one who growls, snarls as she comes up on her tiptoes to keep moving against his cock, her ass plush and soft and knowing she's ruining another pair of panties.

She looks forward to the mirror, her head turning so that it encourages him to look there too, and her eyes are dark as she takes one of his hands in hers and slips it down between her legs to where she's wet and hot and just a little desperate.

She looks him in the eye in the mirror, and her mouth is just a little open. Her eyes are dark and wanting, as she pants, trying to keep her hips still.]

[ He meets her gaze in the mirror, and holds it there, dark and blown out with the surge of lust that her wet panties sent straight through his cock. He holds her there as the shallow flex of his hips rubs the hard length against her ass, pressing against her just enough for the soft cheeks to cradle it, and between her legs, his fingers slide over her, back and forth to smear that wetness across the fabric and his fingers, to rub her clit through it.

Then his fingers hook in that fabric and pull, tugging until it pulls taut against her. With their gazes still locked in the mirror, he grinds along her ass from behind while his fingers play with the tension of her panties, without pressing into her, even though she's so wet he knows her cunt would take his fingers like a dream.

He just wants her good and greedy when that eye contact breaks, because he's sinking down to his knees behind her.

The panties come with him. Vane lets them drop to Daphne's ankles, and he grabs her by the hips and pulls her ass back and her legs apart. All he needs is the room to press his face between her spread thighs and taste the wetness of her on his tongue. ]

[She doesn't break eye contact; instead she grips the back of his neck and moves her hips, needy and desperate, but she doesn't say anything for the moment. She just keeps her eyes on him, right until he breaks off eye contact and her hands go to the sink so she can bend a bit, to give him a better angle.]

Oh, shit.

[She breathes the words out just as his tongue slips through her pussy, and grips the sink tight. She lets him take control for that moment, lets him have it for a few minutes as she shudders.

But only a few minutes. She can't let him keep that control, and she starts to push her hips back, so that she's almost riding his face.]

[ There's certain manners of submission that he's learned to live with, because it's far easier to hear Daphne gasping and moaning while he's on his knees than someone giving him orders. Besides, he's known enough extremely talented whores to know that being able to do this well is a rather priceless sort of talent.

So as long as he's doing it to Daphne's satisfaction, that's a good sign for him.

He doesn't stop as soon as she grinds back, or discourage her from doing it; both hands hook around her thighs so he can keep his face buried between her legs, rolling the bead of her clit with his tongue before licking his way inside her. He growls, the sound vibrating into her pussy, working her over like he's perfectly content to make her come before either of them does anything else. ]

[She's already on edge; the fight and his touch and the hungry way that he looked at her means that this is making her crazy sooner than usual, swearing in rapid, fluid Spanish as she keeps rubbing herself onto his face and he keeps moving his tongue like he's reciting some epic poem into her pussy.

She hisses, but this time it's human sounding. She wishes, almost, that she could shift a bit, that she could let go just a little more, but she can't and she doesn't. Instead she wants to fuck him into a wall, she wants to press his cock inside of her, she wants to ride him until he screams.]

I'm going-

[She takes a breath, and snarls.]

I need your dick inside of me, spreading me open, ay, puton-

[She shudders as she orgasms, and when she looks in the mirror she sees her eyes shift, her hair turn orange for just a second, and she opens her mouth and screams, a sound more feline than human.

She spins around and pulls him up by the arm and pushes him into the shower and into the wall, of it. It isn't on but she's practically climbing him, kissing him and biting his mouth.]

[ Fuck yes, that's what he wanted, and he laps her orgasm from her before she can take it from him because he knows it's just a matter of time--

--and there it is, the way she practically throws him against the inside wall of her shower, coming at him like the tigress she is.

Vane answers her kiss hungrily, answering every bite with one of his own. He may not be literate, but he knows Spanish nearly as well as English, so he knows she's ready to fight him now if she has to, and even if he didn't care he's still dying to get his cock inside her now, while her cunt is still throbbing with one orgasm. So the second he can brace himself to do it, he lifts her into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist. All it takes is a second to find the angle before he fills her up with one thrust.

The savage kiss breaks with another snarl. ]

Tell me what else you need, tigress.

[They move like they've known each other for years, like they've fucked for years. They're too familiar, it's too easy, but in a way that works, in a way that makes every nerve in Daphne's body to light up. He pushes that magnificent cock up into her and she clings to him, moving her body.]

Just like that-

[He asks her what she needs and her eyes come to meet his, wide and wild. She's losing control. She doesn't usually, but here she is.

She puts her arms on his shoulders and holds on, starting to buck like a furious, feral creature.]

Brace me back and pin me against the wall.

[She says it because if he doesn't she's going to do something terrible, she's going to start digging her claws into his chest and tearing him apart.

The thing is:

She doesn't realize she says it out loud.]

[ So much about her is familiar to him in ways that could only ever draw him to her. The wildness in her that attracted him exactly like a moth to the flame is so much more palpable now - he can practically feel it beneath her skin everywhere he grasps at her, hypnotized by the smoothness of her skin, right up until she starts to ride him like a wild animal.

Well. He doesn't want to get ripped apart, but he doesn't want to stop fucking her either.

Immediately he turns them around, and presses her back into the corner of the shower, pinned on two sides with the weight of him in front of her, and he flexes his hips to drive his cock deep into her. He watches her eyes, the wide predator's gleam in them, and has a moment of very clear awareness that if he's meant to die a second time, this would be a worthwhile way to go.

The fact that death doesn't stick around here certainly softens the risk, so Vane grabs two handfuls of her ass and starts to fuck her without making her wait. ]

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