Eric has never disappointed her, and he does not do so today. They are head on, as they always are, her movements for him enticing and pleasurable- thrilling, all in one. She can feel his frame practically quiver against her as she moves, and when she found his ear to give her love bite- so to speak- he gives her the reaction she saught. The moment her fangs find their way through, he's yanking himself away- not only officially puncturing his flesh, but tearing it anew. Blood gently spurts from his wound, and laids across her left eye, the pristine, snowy fur there dyed as her markings and bringing a smirk to her features. But he did not give her a moment to enjoy, of course he didn't- but she enjoyed all the same.
In a flash her life is in his paws, or jaws, rather, and her muscles relax instantly. Seline knows he will not take her life, but that he will push her, challange her and force her. It is his way, it is their way; and she really wouldn't have it any other way. She can feel the restriction against her windpipe, the pressure he gave not to pierce and maim but to acheive full control. And she allows him in these moments, as she had never let anyone before- to dominante her and have complete and utter control over her. Eric was the only wolf she had met thus far in her life that was not of Satanican blood, but could hold his own against one. He was a wolf of a different breed- a monster, and the blood and snow Queen could never get enough of him. Ever. Her breath is shallow, shaky, as she draws in and remains stil within his grasp. She does not struggle, for in these moments she gives in to him completely.
Venom green eyes find their closure, the closest thing to a blissful smile caressing her scarred and terribly beautiful features. If anyone were to lay eyes upon them, they would be bewildered at the sight. Let alone that the two wolves within their deadly dance were actually friends- if you could call it that. Eric and Seline were something else entirely, and though she knew it, she didn't feel the need to announce it. She didn't feel the need to claim as so many others foolishly did. She knew Eric would always be there should she want him, should she need him- just as he was the same for her. It was an unspoken, mutual understanding- and not for one moment did the crimson splattered female ever consider herself Master of the white wolf. He was no ones to tame, and this information was simply something that fueled her on. He was a wild thing and she lost herself within that, within him, as she always would. Her voice is constant in the fourm of a low, purring growl, her pleasure more than evident in her body posture and the slow, flicking motion of her tail. She had pushed him and gotten her prize, but always, always the Queen wanted more.
His own voice reverberated through her frame, adding to her own and simply amplifying all the sensations coursing through her. Her flesh burned and simmered with his touch, with the wounds he had inflicted. And her breath was still shallow, shaky, even- a desperate control for oxygen and yet the slight squirming of her top half was given to see if he would tighten his jaws even more. To see if he would come close to what he could ultimately do to her in these moments- snuff out that flame that was her entire being. But Seline trusted him, more than any wolf she currently had within her life. The Satanicans did not count- as far as she knew, they were in the past, and she was the last of her kind. But she would carry on, as she always did- and maybe, just maybe the male before her would be one to procure her heritage for generations to come. If she had to choose any wolf, it would be Eric. He proved himself more and more with each time they found one another, and he wasn't letting her down in these moments. Slowly opening her reptilian gaze, she finds his glacial gaze, holding it and enjoying the gleam she finds there, the lust and the desire. He was a fine thing indeed, and not one she would give up so easily.
In a rare, gentle and tender show of affection, her jaw is parting to slowly run her tongue along whatever part of his jaw she could reach, cleaning him of the blood still there and just touching him to touch him. Though it was nothing like love that she held for him, there was a respect and a profound admiration, a profound likeness that lingered. That, and she would just never get enough of the taste of him. He was simply that delicious.