His sickly pools lap at her form, at her motions beneath him. Yes, he swells with a heady desire, he simply chooses not to act on such a thing, for to give in now would be to end her. She is fast becoming his favorite game. He has had his fill of the blonde female, eaten until his sides bulge and it is now that he is over her. He sits with his loins firmly pressed against her rump as she looks up at him, her submissive actions earning her a dip of his emotionless cranium. He will guard her as she dines, watching over her as she picks amongst the internal treasures he has laid at her paws. His gaze flicks around, ensuring no one will creep up on their meal, listening to the squelching of her jaws into the morsel she has chosen for herself. His ears prick forward and his head dips once more as he catches her motions. Shock flickers through his body, cold and quick. He lets none of it show, his face remaining blank as he takes her offering, his strong and deadly jaws wrapping firmly, but gently around the heart. Externally, she gets nothing for her gesture save for a deep rumbling, the sound of a giant happy jungle cat, and he practically lays over her. His body on hers, pressed so closely to her. His front half only propped up by two muscled legs.
His chest is pressed to her side, a most dominant way to relax one's frame, on top of his female. He has claimed her, his mind sees her as his. His black heart is in her chest already. Her whispered name reaches his ears as he gazes back into her eyes, pink sapphires blazing at him. “Maugrim.” His voice is a growl, deep and rumbling like the thunder before a great storm. He wraps his jaws gently, tenderly around her muzzle, gently pushing her back against their newly made bed. It was a vast difference from before, still just as heady, still as rough. His motions still demanded everything from her, but he took his time. His movements were not fast as they had before. Perhaps something within the monster recognized the beauty within her, understood what happened here. It did, you realize then that this would mean he wanted such a bond with her. Should she lay her head as he wanted her too, he would lay over her. Dominating her even in sleep, he would guard her, keep her from the prying eyes of males.
It is within every male to be this way, no matter how meek they appeared to be, deep within there would always be a desire to be dominant. She satisfies his need for it, his lust for such a role grew and she rose to meet it with a greater desire. He could smell it on her, hear it in the way her breathing hitched, feel it in her muscles as they quivered beneath his touch, and he could taste it on her. Something tugged at his lips, the corners of his mouth pulling back and his muzzle wrinkling, his ears went back a little and he looked down at her. His sickly green gaze took on the glare of the moon, silvery light reflecting through his pupils, a true smile from one so dark. His hefty frame curled around her own, pressing himself against her so she could also see, or rather feel, how much of an effect she had on him. He lays his head over her neck, his eyes moving around them, his ears flicking slowly about, listening for anything that might interrupt this moment. His Fatality. “My Fatality, yes?” His voice is rumbling, deep, yet song-like despite the broken common tongue of this land. He wants the affirmation from her, craves such an admission, needs her to be his. He does not share well, he cannot, thus he will not. His speech thick with his natural accent, that highland Scottish brogue that every female seems to love.
They will remain laying in their bed of bloodstained earth until the early morning, once the sky begins to burn orange on the horizon, then, they seek more private dwellings for the day.
"Speech!"