Crackling, sizzling, booming, pouring through the air, there was little doubt that there was something going on, something neither one could have predicted or accounted for, let alone understood. And they stood there like dragons, breathing and snarling as though it was the others' fault. They both knew better, but that changed little. Breathing fire, they circled each other watching, waiting for whatever might come next, knowing whatever it was could ultimately destroy them; caring not.
As the energy arced across the sky, they began to move, abandoning logic and all that they had stood for previously. And they moved thus, ever wary, watching each other carefully, longing for the inevitable, and staving it off in favor of the dance. Hunger pounded through their veins but no one and nothing could sate this hunger. It was consuming, this blaze, and it meant to devour them, but it couldn't have conceived of the power each possessed. And so they circled. Each waiting for the other to make themselves vulnerable. Waiting for a weakness, a soft spot, something to lead them into the darkness they both craved and denied. To those who could see, the dance was moot. Those strong enough could see the dance would merely intensify what lie ahead. The denial is what would eventually do them in, take them hostage. To those who couldn't see, who were not in possession of that strength, nothing was amiss. Everything was as it should be. All was right with the world. But to the few who held that power, everything lie in the balance.
If she lunged first, but did so with any hesitation or doubt, she would be beaten. If he reacted slowly or with fear, he would be devoured by her need. She was unaccustomed to the hunger; it was strange and unfamiliar to her, but he knew of it. He knew that eventually he would confront it, but even so, the depth and depravity of it shocked him. Nothing could have prepared him; yet he was ready. He had prepared for an eternity and while he had misjudged the hunger, he had always carried the appetite. He could taste her; even now, even through her fight, he could taste her. He knew her scent, her sound. He knew how it would be for them. And that knowledge should have calmed the beast within, should have quelled the hunger but it did not. He still felt a desperation to have it done. To feel her heat, her need. He wanted to drive that need to a fever pitch so that it thrummed throughout her being, leaving no part of her untouched.
As fate would have it, she felt his call, became aware of his hunger, and it unsettled her, left her naked and open to his attack; and attack he did. Within her vulnerability, she was awakened to her want, and he lifted the edge of that, exposing it for what it was. With a moan, her head dropped; her eyes closed without will, to show her what lie ahead. As she shook her head no and began to draw from the strength she knew was there, he moved forward, to within a thought of her. He could feel her calling to what she held inside and let her build it for a moment before he touched her. The battle could only be won; truly won, against an enemy well armed. So he let her feed her power until he could wait no longer. He touched her then, and in touching her, broke through the wall of restraint she had in place. He reached her with one move.
He was not prepared for what she carried. As skin met skin, her power coursed through him, strong and sure. He felt his own surge to meet it, whether to fight it off or to combine strengths, he knew not, but the surge lanced from his fingers to her flesh, causing them both to pause, or more appropriately, freeze. It wasn't a moment for indecision or hesitation, yet neither could move. It lashed them as strongly as a rope or other physical binding. All at once, seemingly of its' own accord, their strength pulled them closer, leaving nothing but cloth between them. Her hands wound themselves about his neck, leaving her to fear what had come over her. She was removed from herself, unable to control what came next. Her lips parted, emitting a sigh or moan, maybe both, and her body loosened itself, becoming pliant and willing. She saw herself weaken with horror. Closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly from one side to the next, denying the truth.
As she moved her head to the side, making her neck vulnerable, he lowered his head slowly, so she might know of his intent. But the need rose within him, and as he dropped his face to breathe of her, he felt the shift. It should have been under control, but it was not and the more he let it go, the stronger it became. He felt her tremble as though she knew, felt her rest her head on his shoulder, keeping herself open for his attack, and still he fought it. He tried to draw himself back, to pull his power in, but he could not. With what strength he did possess over the power, he began to reign it in, but her own curled itself around his and refused to let it go. He felt hers twine itself sinuously around his caressing it, calming the fire, but feeding the hunger. Her pale blue began to move on its' own, leaving her to marvel at the need she could scarcely hold back. Nor did she want to. Her body had hungered for so long, with such desperation, that she was nearly relieved to find her completion. She let it go, pouring her entire being into it, feeding it with her own worldly hunger.
He saw her then, not as she was now, but as she had been before. They way they were long ago. With that, he let the shift take over, let himself become what he had always been for her and her alone. For a second, she tried to bring about fear over what she knew was coming but it was a weak attempt and she failed, only knowing she needed this. Had always needed this. With the scraped of his teeth on her flesh, anticipation took hold, leaving her breathless and desperate. And still, the battle within her waged on, the need for possession and the need for individuality.
Nuzzling her neck, lightly nipping his teeth along sensitive skin, he drew her clothes from her body. He wanted the possession to be complete; all encompassing. He wanted to fill her, her senses, her thoughts, her body, and her blood. Shedding his own, never letting her know what he was about, sensing her fear, he drew her heated flesh back to his, shaking with need. Nipping more roughly, needing her to be prepared for what was coming, he moved his hands over her body, intensely, claiming and marking her as his, his nails biting into her flesh, but never hard enough to draw the blood that would overcome him. Moving with her, guiding her backwards, he braced them against the wall, drawing her legs around his waist, lifting her hips flush with his own.
When his teeth pierced her flesh, he drove into her, claiming all that she was, drawing her life, her need, her hunger, and feeding it all into his movement. Her need for possession won out, and she tilted her head back to further his hunger, to feed his hunger, to demand that he feed from what she offered. The fear never took hold, but it lurked in the background, waiting for sanity to return. On some level, she knew that he had taken more than she offered, but the thought didn't have a foothold. She let it drift to the back of her conscious mind, taking what he had to give and focussing only on that.
Gripping the flesh of her hips, he drove more forcefully into her, needing to hear her cry out, needing to know that she felt his possession, that she would never question it again. Moans, soft and incoherent, slipped from her lips, and in them, he heard what he longed for, her verbal acceptance, the vocal pledge to be his, no matter what. It shook him to his core and as he felt her begin to shudder, he let go of all that he kept hidden from the world, let it go all for her, this one person who could shake the control he was so valiantly protective over. As he stopped moving within her, she slumped in his arms. Terrified that he had taken more that she could give, he began to withdraw, frantically afraid that his hunger, his need had robbed him of what he needed so much. But she whimpered at his movement, and pulled him back to her, drawing him even more deeply inside her than he would have dared. He sighed, letting himself rest against her, drawing strength from her presence.
Feathering her fingers through her hair, she wondered at the complete sense of wonder, of possession that washed from him through her. And in that moment she knew she was his. No matter what tomorrow held, no matter where their lives took them, she had this. She would always know to whom she belonged.
He carried her across the floor to what had brought them here in the first place. The bed had not been there, in its' place had stood a fire, but other forces were at work and he would never dare question it. He lay her upon it, following close after, needing her heat to keep him going. He pulled her back against his chest, his face in her hair, breathing of her, lulling himself to sleep with the rhythm of her breathing.