Thread: Of Desire

There was something disturbingly interesting about watching the dying throes of a living being. This was not a rabbit set upon by a hunter, nor some timid fawn twitching in the grass as a much more powerful beast ravaged its body - though, the similarities were undeniable. Konstantin stared into his lovely Anastaysia's green eyes, into a set of beautiful emerald orbs, enraptured by the simplest of twitches in her face. He felt her body tremble and shift slightly in the grass. He imagined her legs kicking out, and even felt her hand on his at one point, over her throat, but his eyes were only on hers, gazing coolly into them until at last they were open, but they no longer brought her sight. He held fast to her throat until the gurgled, strained sound ceased from between her lips. Until the hand clutching at his went weak, and soon fell entirely. Until the all of her fell limp, and not even her pulse could be felt beating against his palm. Suddenly, a voice caught him - to the right he quickly glanced, toward her dressing room door, those several layers of thick, colored scarves dripping with tassels and beads. Konstantin's body was excited, as much as as one such as he could be, but that was largely due to the girl laid out before him. This new voice...it caught his attention, and his muscles were ready to leap into action, should someone be so unlucky as to join. Would he kill a second? Would he simply pass by her, on his way out? As the adrenaline pumped through him he quickly wondered, not entirely sure himself. But, after a few long seconds it seemed that curious voice had stepped away, and again it was the two of them, alone. ...Alone. Now, he really was. Again. Icy blue eyes looked back down to her. Konstantin's grip finally left the girl's throat, leaving a fresh bruise in its wake, one that would grow several fold likely before her body finally went cold. His fingers reached up to caress her, a touch now that was only soft. They caressed along her jaw, starting at Anastaysia's chin and trailing gradually up until finding her left ear. Copper curls were brushed back behind it as his touch encircled that pale ear, pale as the rest of her seemed to naturally be. It was a lone finger touching her now as it traced below the underside, coming then over her jaw, onto her cheek, where the rest of his fingers rejoined, dropping around and beneath her jaw while his palm now held her cheek, his thumb gently moving upon it. So beautiful, he mused, barely above a whisper. Her eyes were still open, staring at nothing. His stared down at hers, losing themselves in her emerald pools. It is a shame, but I...I hope you understand. Konstantin's right hand left the left side of Anastaysia's face, this time running it through her hair. His hand smoothed over her bed of curls from the top, caressing over them from the back of her head, moving again behind her ear. I do not know you well, but...in my eyes, you are perfect. Coming down behind her ear, following that hair to her shoulder, his fingers came back to her chin. In that perfection, you would surely understand. Two fingers crooked beneath it, tilting her chin up just slightly with his touch as he leaned down, his own eyes falling closed, pressing his lips to hers. He exhaled against her mouth right before touching, and as they kissed, he felt a delightful chill course through him. Her body was limp, but warm as he kissed her a second time, his hand leaving her chin to encompass her cheek, jaw, and the side of her neck in its whole again. His free hand had left her hair some time ago, now spread out on the grass beside the right of her head, with he leaning upon it while he remained descended, kissing her with increasing fervor. It had started as a soft, affectionate peck...it had started with the thought of bidding her goodbye, but as he kissed her, as he felt those soft, supple lips again and again, Konstantin's body shivered with excitement. Excitement! It had been ages, and even as she lay here in death, she was more glorious to him than any living thing! He couldn't have her in life, but laying there, in her death... I need you, he breathed hotly between kisses, at least once. The next kiss found his tongue pushing between her lips, finding hers, tasting hers, swirling passionately around it. In that fit of passion his decision was made, and, in that fit of passion his hand left her face, falling to grasp at the neckline of her slip, where it tore the silken, lavender-colored fabric as if it were nothing. He tore it first as far down as her smooth, firm belly, exposing to him a pair of pale, supple mounds, vastly generous in size, that jiggled sensuously from the sharp movement. A fire overtaking him, Konstantin's hand moved to cup Anastaysia's left breast, enveloping it in his palm as it threatened to spill out around his fingers. His lips fell to it with decided eagerness, kissing, wrapping his mouth around her nipple and tasting of it with hunger. She was so soft. She was so supple. Wonderful as she was, it was the other way around - perfection strove to be good enough to describe her. He could have spent several minutes there, sucking, appreciating her bosom, as easily as he could have spent the next several hours. Somewhere in the back of his mind he mused that it would take no less than an entire day to properly worship every facet of her beauty in the way each specifically deserved. But, overwhelmed with the all of her at once, Konstantin was quick to move on. A second grasp of her lavender, silken slip saw a second sharp tear, and this one found its way to the hem, separating the thin clothing right down its center. This brought another bounce of her bountiful bosom, which bode him back for another squeeze, and another taste, this with his tongue swirling around her pert, pink nipple before he sucked upon it a second time. Again it was brief, as there was just too much, too many things he wanted to taste, to feel, to experience of her, all at once. His hand in the grass moved down until it was beside her hip, matched now with his second hand on the other side of her body, with Konstantin's own descending over her. His lips kissed a trail across still-warm flesh, from her nipple, sucking it as he lifted away until it popped from his lips with another jiggle, to then kiss her areola, to then kiss the underside of her left breast. To then kiss the skin over her ribcage, and soon after that, her belly, each touch bringing him more to the center of her form. She was just the right mixture of soft, as a woman should be, and athletically tone, even on such a spot of her as this. But he could not remain here appreciating her belly forever, as there was still her thighs, her backside, her back, her shoulders...endless things to appreciate, all in due time. That is, if he would ever even get that far. Next, below her belly, below her hips, was a pair of lavender, silky panties, just the same as her slip. And, just the same as her slip, her aggressor snatched the slim left side in his right hand, jerking and tearing right through. This brought another brief bounce to her, but he was far too enraptured by where he was at the moment, his body lowered so that it practically lay in the grass beneath her now, hands falling so that he now rested on both shoulders. With his heart racing, he pulled the fabric of her panties aside, it torn from her left thigh and hip, still attached around her right, revealing the beauty of her vagina to his ice-blue eyes. ... was his response. Staring. Gazing. Taking in her scent. She was as beautiful here as she was anywhere else. Konstantin's eyes drifted closed as he leaned in, planting a kiss even here, upon her smooth, hairless lips. I must have you, he whispered, kissing again to those warm, bald folds. What came next was not as sensual as his descent, but with no less emotion to it - simply of a different sort. His hands pushed up to a kneel in the grass, his knees between her own. By this point he was straining heavily against the leathery black fabric encasing his crotch. The loose, black ruffled shirt could stay, as could most of his pants, for he would not sacrifice the time it took to be rid of them - he would not sacrifice even a moment longer. Staring down at her body, eyes darting from her hairless vagina to her supple mounds, from her ample breasts to her flawless face, from her gorgeous features to her smooth, flat belly...he had to have her, and now. A pair of hands tugged open the front of his belt, a large, circular, golden buckle that gave way to strings making up the front of his smooth leather pants. These too were quickly done away with, untying, loosening, doing just enough so that he could push the tight fabric off his hips, halfway over his backside, to then pull the source of his lust free. Or perhaps she could be claimed as the source. ...It mattered not. My Anastaysia, he breathed, eyes once again locked with hers. My darling...my dove. My beautiful. His hands cupped under the back of her thighs and started to lift. Never once breaking his gaze with her emerald pools, he pushed her legs upward, lifting them until her knees pressed into those generous breasts, and the even further, smoothing along the backs of her legs to her calves, bringing her legs up to either side of her head - for an acrobat, a position of no true difficulty, even now, in death. Her clothes were still on, in a sense, but lay mostly upon the grass now, much as she. His strong, lusting body descended over her again now, knees tucking below her backside, shoulders near her calves, and, most excitedly, the pulsating tip of his loins pressing against her smooth petals, he already fully aroused and glistening with excitement. Dearest Ana, if I cannot have you in life, he cooed, staring into her colorful, albeit lifeless eyes, then, perhaps...at least in death. His hips pushed downward and his breath quickly caught, feeling the warmth of her vagina start to wrap around him, but, soon then, stopping as he felt something else. ...Perfect, in every way, he mused, smiling to her. I shall be gentle, he spoke assuringly, dipping his left hand back behind her head to delve his fingers into her bed of copper curls. Leaning now on his right hand, fingers splayed in the grass, Konstantin ignored the sounds of the crowd in the background, of whatever performance was otherwise going on, of the backstage noises going on right outside her dressing room, focusing only on her eyes. Dipping his head down, he gently pressed his forehead to hers, nose beside nose, gazing down...and, taking a breath, his hips began to push forward again, into hers. Uunnghhn, he groaned sharply, staring into her eyes the entire time. He could feel her insides strain before giving way, claiming her innocence as tenderly as a man could with a thick, meaty girth. Several hearty exhales came against her lips as he felt her muscles still bear an amount of reaction, even in death. The hand in her hair urged her face forward with him leaning in to meet her lips, mouth to mouth, kissing her with passion, with affection, as he pushed inside of her a second time. The man groaned again, muffled by their kiss. A pull back of his hips saw another thrust follow, slow, but claiming her further, penetrating her womanly depth until it felt like he could go no further. Perhaps some other time, if she had been his...if circumstances had been different, perhaps he would be fucking her cunt, or her pussy, or her snatch. Perhaps he would be going down on her bald little muff, or even spreading her cheeks wide and stuffing her ass while he cupped and squeezed one tit, letting the other bounce wildly. Perhaps, had the circumstances been different. But this, right here, right now, what he wished was, if he were to only have her once, that it be tender. That he make love to her, to his Ana. Each thrust brought him slightly further, each kiss a bit more impassioned, his tongue swirling about the warmth of her mouth, his shaft enveloped in the heat of her vagina. When he reached a depth where it felt like her virginal walls could accommodate him no further he soon discovered a steady rhythm, grunting, groaning, and breathing amidst a flurry of quicker kisses. At one point he tried to lift her lifeless arms to encourage them around his neck, or even onto his shoulders, but found them difficult to stay. Eventually he went back to cupping her head, fingers spread into her hair, though now instead of leaning on a hand in the grass he set his weight upon her fully, his right hand coming down now to squeeze firmly to her left cheek, encasing it in his grip, even causing her backside to spread. The sounds going on all around seemed to challenge his lovemaking at times, but he paid them no attention. At one point that same woman's voice returned at her makeshift fabric door, calling again to the talented acrobat, but again she seemed pulled away by another right before entering. ...An interesting moment that would have been, but Konstantin paid it no mind. He was focused on her. On this. Breathing heavily, he broke the series of kisses as he felt himself coming closer and closer to that height with every new thrust. Though she was dead, her body was still warm enough, her death was still recent enough that it had a certain amount of reaction to it, and her body had wet itself enough to aid his lustful intrusion. That sloppy wet sound was unmistakable though perhaps not as potent as it would be were she still alive, it was still there to a degree even now. It was still there enough that it aided every needy thrust, every aching piston of his thick manhood down into her. He would have spent days loving her body if he could, but even amidst his passion Konstantin was aware that time was of a certain essence. When he felt that point nearing, rather than slow, rather than pace himself, he sped up, pumping down into her bare, feminine folds, slapping the heavy skin of his sac against her with every thrust. When he felt it, that sudden tightness in his loins, that welling up of his seed all of a second before he would burst, he found her lips again, kissing, holding her close, groaning into her supple mouth as stream after hard stream shot into her, filling her, painting her walls with hot, creamy coat after hot, cream coat of his inspired lust. His body shuddered as it came, and then...nothing. And then a pant, the kiss parted, his forehead resting beside hers. His body was still half leaning on his knees, half leaning upon her. A long moment of silence followed as he laid there over her, breathing, holding, chest pounding, feeling her around him...and regrettably, rather than basking in the bliss, knowing now that his time with her had come to an end. Knowing, no longer in the back of his mind, but now at the forefront, that she was to become just a memory from this point. I could not have you in life, he breathed beside her, musing again, but, I at least have claimed you in death, if only but once... His eyes drifted closed. A moment later though, thinking aloud, ...Must it end here? Darling Anastaysia... The hand on the back of her head stroked lightly over her copper strands. Must it...must it end here... In life... In death... Why not...why not in life unending? His mind flooded with the thought, of things both good and bad. It was something he was perhaps more hesitant to do than anything, for such...such was equal parts a gift and a curse. Would she even love him? Would she detest him? Would she not understand him? Would she loathe him for what he did to her? Or, per chance, together, would eternity be something far easier to bear? Maybe even something to be excited over again? Konstantin's decision was set. Right, wrong, he was not yet ready to part with her, even considering she was not being given a choice, even considering the risk. She was still warm. There was still time. Raising himself up, sliding his shaft out of her, he looked down to her body with eyes scanning her once again. Pale, flawless skin. An ample, heaving bosom, that fell to either side now with how she lay. As he shifted to sit beside her in the grass her legs fell from above her head, unfolding to a more natural state, if a bit twisted to one side. He looked over her smooth stomach, her tone legs...the mixture of virginal blood and of his gift of lust that seeped from her petals even now...up to her face, to her cheeks, to the way her hair framed her. His decision was set, he knew, even before he made it. Soon enough hindsight would hold either wisdom or regret. For now, all he knew was that he could not let her go just yet. I love you, darling Anastaysia, he whispered once, softly, as he looked down to her from her side, caressing the hair back from her face. Then, fingers falling to her chin, turning her head to the right, he descended down over the left side of her neck, lips parting wide enough now to bare his fangs to her for the first time. The penetration was quick, and as quick as it was, it was deep, causing two gorgeous flows of blood to start leaking forth. He held a hand the entire time, fingers slipping into one of hers, betwixt her own, the entire time he hungrily sucked her, pausing only to lap at what he missed, as it trickled to the side and back of her shoulder. He had to stop, however, before having his fill, before even it had stopped bleeding, for he could not chance her body growing any colder than it already had. To become one like him required more than to just be bitten, it required tasting of one in turn. He brought his left hand to his lips, flinching only slightly as he bit down quick and hard, cutting through his skin with his teeth. Her lips already laid with a natural part as she lay there, so with that he merely needed to hold his cut finger over them, squeezing the wound with his opposite hand to cause several drops to drip down, landing on her tongue. It was a waiting game, now. Had he decided to do it soon enough? Was he not as quick as needed, and perhaps he would be bringing home a corpse? Either way, that woman was back at the door again, excitedly shouting that his Ana was due on stage three minutes ago. He could hear what sounded like an upset ringmaster coming closer, through the backstage area right now rather than the section of the tent closer to the arena. Konstantin stood up and fixed his pants, tucking himself back inside them before retying and rebuckling their front. He spared a quick second to brush himself off, then knelt down, scooping his beloved trophy up, into his arms. He would leave with her, like this. Chest bare. Stomach bare. Vagina bare, dripping with their mixed juices, and with the cherry which was no longer hers to give. Panties around her right thigh. Slip hanging off her shoulders. Konstantin began to walk, one arm below her thighs, just before her knees, the other beneath her shoulders, her head bobbing with every step, her left arm limp and hanging down. Like that he carried her, through the fabric door, and out, no longer caring who else saw.