lstbcys

[lstbcys]

"You think the fold him like a lawn chair comment wasn't funny? You sincerely underestimate yourself." Malcolm replied, and though she didn't seem particularly positive about the idea of Infamy's margaritas, the young vampire knew they were good if made by the right person. It's not like he was involved with the night life like this often, so any other place would be a total stab in the dark. "What's a little mild poisoning between two strangers?"

As they stepped into Infamy, he beelined straight for the bar and leaned against it as they waited for the turn to order. "I'm a firm believer in only getting involved if I'm asked, or if I think some guy is about to rapidly overstep the mark." Such as assholes with lack of control when it came to anger and a non-existent moral compass. He had known a few of them in his time. "Don't need to be tall to bring people down, just need to know how to use what you've got."

The bartender finally got to them, and Mal ordered for the both of them, "Two of the best margaritas you could possibly make, please." He spoke, subtly compelling the bartender in the hopes that they would at least be decent after he'd dragged the other here. "Woah, you never told me my life was on the line." Malcolm teased, digging his wallet out from his pocket to pay for the drinks once they were ready.

Romy clocked the laugh — not a polite huff or a dry exhale, but an actual, full-bodied laugh — and immediately narrowed her eyes with mock suspicion. “Oh, he laughs. Dangerous. Now I’m going to have to actually be funny on purpose instead of just relying on chaos and poor life choices.”

She let herself be led toward Infamy, already perking up the moment the club’s neon signage came into view. “This place?” she said, eyebrows lifting with impressed approval. “I’ve heard of it. They’ve got margaritas that taste like divine punishment. In the best way. If we’re gonna risk being mildly poisoned, this is a solid venue choice.”

As they reached the door, she couldn't help but just smile, a little relieved if anything. “I like that you didn’t try to make it sound noble. You just didn’t want to be that guy. Respect. There’s a fine line between white knight and accidental Reddit thread.” Her grin curled wider. “Also, thanks for the height comment. I may be short, but I weaponize every inch. Ask anyone I’ve kicked in the shin.”

She stepped inside with him, the beat of music practically vibrating in her ribs. “So. Margs on you, huh? Brave. You’re really betting your dignity on tequila and lime.” Romy raised her brows like it was a challenge. “But hey, if this place delivers and you’ve got decent taste? I might just let you live.”

[lstbcys]

The surprise was evident on his features, but he was glad for another familiar face in town. He was lacking those, sorely, and he was thankful for more. "Remind me, what was your aunts shop again?" Malcolm wasn't the best for remembering details, especially when he hadn't seen someone in a little while.

Thera left as he promised to catch up with her later, and he was nothing if not honest. He finished his shift and went looking for the other, finding her in a local bar, sat in a booth. "You really have to get rid of that nickname, little dove. Pecker doesn't do much for my self confidence." Malcolm teased, motioning someone over to take their order. "Whatever you want, it's on me. I think they do some food here too, if you're hungry." He had fed before he left, just in case. He trusted himself more now, a lot more than he did when he and Thera first met, but he wouldn't let himself slip around her again.

"So tell me, what have you been up to since we saw each other last, hm? What's going on?"

“I… I live here now. Permanently.” Thera Wendell, the girl without roots, had a home. “I’m running my Aunt’s old store on the other side of town. I appreciate the offer though.” Thera smiled up at him because….. she was usually the one offering others things and even though Mal knew that trouble did follow her, he had offered her shelter without hesitation.

“I would love to catch up though, but I won’t bother you any longer,” Thera looked off at the intruder who was staggering away from them, “I am happy to see you doing well Pecker.”

As Thera walked away to whittle away her time before Mal’s shift ended she remembered the haggard man that had attacked her three years ago. A needle of verbena and a flick of a thread had been the only thing between Thera’s blood on the pavement and Mal being dragged to her motel room to be nursed back to sentience. She had seen his thread that day, crimson and bright, it had singed when she had flicked him off of her but it had not left a mark. She was glad he was here, their threads intersecting once again. He was far healthier than he had once been and she was excited to learn how life had been since they had parted.

[lstbcys]

He laughed, actually laughed at her comment, shaking his head. "Well I was more thinking just forcing him to his knees so he can beg for your forgiveness, but if you want to see him folded like a lawn chair I'm sure I can accommodate." Malcolm teased, though he was certainly joking, at least for now. It was something he would do, to protect someone he cared deeply about but not particularly for someone he'd just met. "Oh one drink, hm? I better pick a damn good place, then. It's not my scene much, but I think it'll be yours and the drinks are great so, let's try Infamy." He smiled, still leading the way to the club. "Deal, and if it's bad then I probably deserve to be ghosted like that."

"Pleasure to meet you, Romy. I'm Malcolm. And no, it's not actually. I tend to stay away from shit like that but he didn't look like he was going to back away, and no one else was doing shit. I didn't want to be that asshole that sits there and does nothing when he could've intervened. The short and mouthy helps, though." Malcolm teased, reaching Infamy and holding the door open for her. "And obviously, the margs are on me. You know, just in case they're not up to your standard."

Romy raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Okay, first of all, make him the right height? What, are you going to fold him like a lawn chair?” she asked, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Because honestly, I wouldn’t stop you. That’s sort of tempting.” She glanced over at him, giving him a look that hovered between amused and skeptical. What was the worst thing that could happen? He was aware she had a pepper-spray and a loud mouth. “Alright, Malcolm, mysterious bar defender with suspiciously good margarita knowledge,” she said, while reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got one drink to prove yourself. If it sucks, I’m ghosting like a disappointed tinder date. If it’s good, I’ll consider not pepper-spraying you on principle.” Then, as she fell into step beside him, her tone turned teasing. “Fair warning though; I’m a harsh margarita critic. That’s sacred territory.”

She glanced sideways at him, a flicker of something curious behind her grin. “I'm Romy, by the way. I guess you should know, since we’re apparently risking subpar cocktails and impulsive violence together.” She tilted her head, still curious. “So, is this your thing? Going around being a chivalrous knight, or do you just have a thing for taking metaphorical punches for short, mouthy women in bars?”

[lstbcys]

He caught her scent in the wind and furrowed his brows, looking up and scanning his surroundings. Malcolm thought perhaps it was just someone with a similar perfume, but no the scent was much more primal than that. This was her, it was Thera. It had to be. The vampire couldn't leave his post to look around, not until he was relieved and he wasn't about to take a chance; he had disappointed a lot of people in his life, he didn't want Nsilo to be another.

"And I still fucking hate that nickname, Thera." He chided, but the smile that so rarely graced his lips was actually present for a change as she approached. Malcolm shouldn't have been so surprised to see her, considering she had been the one to point him in the direction of Port Leiry; he thought he would see her eventually, or rather he hoped. "What brings such beauty to grace us lucky citizens of Port Leiry, hm? Should I be checking for trouble following behind you?" Malcolm's hand shot out, colliding with someone trying to slip his way behind him to get into Anemoia. "If I have to tell you one more time that once you're asked to leave, you don't get to come back, I'll be telling your fucking corpse. Leave." He growled, shoving the vampire back onto the pavement.

"If you're willing to hang around, I'll be getting off work soon. If you don't have anywhere to stay I can put you up for a bit. Whatever you need." Thera had helped him during one of the worst moments of his life, and after he had jumped her, too. That said a lot about her as a person, at least in Malcolm's book.

Closed starter for @lstbcys

Location: Anemoia

Thera stood a safe distance away from the doors of Anemoia. ‘He made it’ she thought to herself as she saw the steadfast form of the vampire at the door.

While Thera dealt with many supernaturals through her work, she had to admit to herself that the children of the night had always given her the most unease, probably a byproduct of her parents’ deaths. But hey, they hadn’t been the first Wendells found drained of blood.

But Mal she had helped and with fate having so many converging lines in Port Leiry, she was honestly glad to see him. Which is more than she could have said when he jumped her in Vegas almost 3 years ago.

Thera removed herself from her fortress in the shadow and approached the door of the tea house. She smiled as she approached him, she wasn’t in the habit of assuming everyone remembered her, even if she helped them, but Mal had spent a week with her and he was here, a location that was one of her three parting gifts as they had split ways. “Hello Pecker, I’m glad to see you made it.”

[lstbcys]

"Hm." Mal sounded, looking over the human with a soft look that quickly turned into a smirk. "I don't know about a time machine, but I know somewhere that has great margaritas. Why let that asshole ruin your night when you could just move on elsewhere? Though if the vibes are ruined, the vibes are ruined." The vampire didn't much care either way for if the human decided to come with him or not. It wasn't even in his plans to spend time with anyone this evening - he much preferred to be alone - but if this stranger wanted to spend some time together to forget the interaction she'd just had then he could do one drink.

"I'm Malcolm, by the way. And if you want to punch him in the nose I can make him just the right height for you." He teased, though he was already taking a couple of steps away from the bar. "C'mon, either a drink, or let me walk you to a main road so you can get home." He was talking a lot, definitely more than normal for him; trying to distract himself from the thumping of her heartbeat in his ears.

Truth was, she doubted most people had even realized what happened. Everything had gone down so fast—just a hand, a reaction, some shouting, and then it was over. One thing her cousin had drilled into her early on was to make noise when she felt unsafe. The louder, the better. Attention meant safety. It wasn’t foolproof, but it helped. That, or taller heels and quicker access to her pepper spray, preferably in that order.

Romy narrowed her eyes at him, the edge of her stance relaxed; just barely. “I can fight my own battles,” she said, lips quirking despite herself. “Kinda. Okay, like, eighty percent of the time. The other twenty is mostly dramatic exits and passive-aggressive muttering, but still.” She let out a sigh, casting a mournful glance toward the bar. “Doesn’t matter anyway. The night’s officially ruined, my drink’s gone, and the vibes are dead. So unless you can conjure a margarita and a time machine, I think the damage is done.” She crossed her arms, exhaling slowly through her nose. "It's just unfair. He gets to still have a good time, while I have to call it a night. If I were only taller, I would punch him right in the nose," she muttered, her heart still beating fast.

[lstbcys]

Malcolm held his hands up in surrender as she threatened him with the pepper spray; he could hear her heartbeat hammering in her chest, and the young vampire was trying his best to not focus on it. "No, I'm not, but you can come to those conclusions yourself when you know me better, I'm sure. I hadn't realised he'd touched you, I heard the commotion and came over to make sure he didn't hurt you. If I had realised, I obviously would not be laying into you. You do you, go off, he clearly deserved it." Mal wasn't sure what was best to do in that situation, he had obviously been fortunate enough to not find himself in them. "Look, tell me to mind my own, but want me to go in there and make him come apologise? I can be very persuasive. Maybe it'll make him think twice before touching anyone without their consent again."

Romy’s heart was beating like crazy in her chest, adrenaline still sharp in her bloodstream, but her face didn’t show it. She stood her ground, jaw tight and chin raised like she hadn’t just narrowly avoided something ugly. “You’re one step away from getting pepper-sprayed yourself if you keep talking to me like that,” she snapped, eyes narrowed. “Are you one of those guys? The kind who thinks no means maybe, or that women not smiling at you is a personal insult?” Her tone dripped acid, but her voice was steady, controlled, like a wire pulled taut. “If you think I’m just gonna sit there like a chicken while some asshole grabs me by the waist again, you’re out of your damn mind,” she said, fire in her voice. “Yeah, maybe I talk back, but I’d rather speak up and take a hit than stay silent and get stepped on by some random creep."

[lstbcys]

@romythorne

"Do you know how stupidly dangerous that was, or do you just not give a fuck?" The young vampire exclaimed, clearly frustrated at the fact that she'd decided to mouth off to the wrong person in the bar, and he had to make sure the fucker didn't get close enough to do damage. "You often find yourself mouthing off to strangers, or you just assume that every guy abides by the 'I don't hit women' rule?"

[lstbcys]

"No, I'm describing someone who doesn't know herself, or see herself. Not truly." He replied softly, though he hadn't expected her to believe most of it. It wasn't like Freyja to think well of herself. He was sure she only saw herself as an out of control witch with a power that was nothing but a danger to others, a power she would never be able to control. Malcolm believed differently, and hoped one day she would see herself as he saw her.

"Yes, I did. It's not like I asked permission and you said yes. I attacked you." It would have been different, if he had asked permission. It would have been different, if he could have stopped himself without having to be dragged away from her.

Freyja wasn't sure what she expected him to say when she'd asked the question but the words that came out of his mouth... well, she hadn't expected anything of that nature. Her eyebrows furrowed at him, at his words, and she couldn't help but shake her head at him. "You're describing someone that's not even here." She said. Freyja didn't believe any of what Malcolm had just told her. Other than the fact that she was his best friend.

"And you didn't hurt me. Not really." She reassured him as she glanced away from him for a moment. She silently wondered if he'd be willing to bite her again.

[lstbcys]

⚡️ do you regret feeding from your friend?

"I'll always regret hurting her, but I am working on bettering myself. I hope she sees that, I really do." @freyjaxcarter

[lstbcys]

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝟑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. (accepting)

@freyjaxcarter asked: “what do you see when you look at me?”

"I see someone I care for deeply, someone I'm concerned about. I see a powerful woman underneath the fear, whether that fear is just to do with your power and lack of control, I don't know, but you are powerful and better yet, you're strong, Freyja. Stronger than you think." Malcolm answered almost instantly, reaching out to grab her hand and squeeze. "You're beautiful, a better friend than I deserve. A better. . . a better woman than I deserve. I see someone I'm concerned I take advantage of, and confuse even more. But I hope that what you see is someone that will help you, be there for you, no matter what. And someone who will never, ever hurt you again."

He didn't know why she was asking, but he didn't need to. The vampire was there to reassure her, always, and be whatever it was she needed him to be in that moment. She was one of the few people she'd met since leaving his old life behind that he could say he would give his life to protect. "I see my best friend."

[lstbcys]

⚡️ if they messaged you, to come home, would you?

"It would depend on which one of them it came from. not if demitri messaged, maybe if jakoris messaged but i never knew when to take him seriously. if jessie messaged. . . i would arrange a meeting, at least. but they haven't, so, that says all it needs to say, doesn't it?"

[lstbcys]

Malcolm’s gaze was steady, a mix of dominance and tenderness as he felt Freyja’s grip tighten around his forearm. Her warmth ignited a fire deep within him, a primal need to guide her into the depths of ecstasy she’d never dared to explore. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear as he whispered, "Let go, Freyja. Trust me."

Her body was a beautiful puzzle, and he revelled in the way she responded to his touch, each gasp and tremor a testament to the uncharted territory they were navigating together. He revelled in her vulnerability, the way she buried her face into his shoulder, seeking comfort while a storm of sensation raged inside her.

“Good girl,” he murmured again, coaxing her with both praise and an unmistakable confidence that promised to keep her safe. He could feel the tension coiling within her, and he wanted nothing more than to be the one to help her unleash it. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. This is just for us. Just let your magic flow. I’ll be right here, guiding you.”

As he pushed deeper, three fingers moving slowly, he felt her body instinctively arch toward him, seeking more, craving release. It was intoxicating, watching her succumb to pleasure, her cheeks flushed with a blend of arousal and uncertainty. He wanted to be her anchor, the one she could lean on as she crossed the threshold into bliss.

“Don’t think,” he commanded softly, his voice a low rasp that wrapped around her like silk. “Just feel. I promise you, Freyja, you can surrender to me. I won’t let you fall.”

The world around them faded into a blur, the public setting becoming a mere backdrop to the electric connection they shared. With every thrust of his fingers, he could sense her walls breaking down, her magic swirling around them like an unseen tide. He was there, guiding her, holding her steady as she teetered on the edge of something extraordinary.

“Embrace it,” he urged, and he knew that if he had one, his heart racing with the thrill of her impending release. “You’re safe with me.”

Another squeal escaped her as his fingers moved inside of her, finding a spot that she'd forgot was even there. Freyja wrapped her fingers around his forearm, her nails digging into his skin as she buried her face into his shoulder. Her cheeks flushed with arousal and embarrassment, especially considering they were in such a public place.

Good fucking girl. Butterflies knocked against the walls of her stomach and the muscles in her thighs tightened. "Malcolm..." Freyja breathed against his shoulder as she felt him push another finger inside of her. He stretched her as he pushed three fingers in and out of her. She groaned again, this time louder, as his words filled her ears and her mind wandered towards the scene. Him watching her as his mouth devoured her. Him telling her how good of a girl she was. Hours. Days. Weeks. "That's-- a long time. I can't... You can't--"

But he could, and he was, and Freyja had no fucking idea how to handle any of it. It had been so long since she'd felt this form of pleasure -- or any type of pleasure -- and her body was so used to fighting such things. Fighting against feeling anything that wasn't calm. "What if I-- hurt someone. Mal, what if my magic-- what if it--" But she couldn't even finish a sentence. His scent, his fingers, inside and out of her, were all consuming. Her grip on his arm tightened as her legs practically squeezed his hand. She was close. So fucking close but she was struggling to let go.

[lstbcys]

The events of the night were quickly leaving his mind, the focus on the beautiful woman he undressed in front of him instead of the chaos. It was like all the chaos left his mind at the sight of Nsilo, even before the dress dropped and she let him have a minute of drinking her in. Malcolm watches as she moves, sits at her desk and he moves to pick the dress up from the floor; it's too beautiful to stay there so he folds it carefully and puts it on the cabinet.

A low hum of anticipation rattles around inside of him. He's spent countless nights in silence, observing the way she carries herself — so powerful, so poised, a force to be reckoned with. Whilst Nsilo's invitation was unexpected, it's certainly not something he would ever pass up the opportunity of. The chair moves backwards, rests on the wall behind her and he's there before she can even finish her sentence.

Malcolm places himself under her desk, the burning ambition to be what she wants, what she asks for spurring him on. The young vampire wasting no time in settling there, and his mouth was on her quickly, tongue exploring her folds and savouring her taste. He wasn't sure if she was simply in a rewarding mood or if this were going to become a regular thing, so of course he would make sure to enjoy every moment of this that she would allow. He had hoped that he was consistently proving himself, proving his loyalty to her and his fast-growing devotion. It was unexpected, quickly felt, yet unshakeable. Perhaps it was the connection with his sire, but Malcolm wasn't foolish enough to think that the woman didn't completely captivate him without the need for anything outside reasons.

Blue eyes looked up at her as he ate her out, mouth focusing on her clit as a finger moved to tease her entrance. He wanted it to be good for her, he wanted to be good for her because Mal certainly didn't want this to be a one time thing. Desires he didn't even know he had surfaced, and despite his lack of beating heart, it would be hammering in his chest if he had one with the urge to obey, the urge to please. He knew that everyone was different with what they liked for pleasure, and the young vampire hoped that she would tell him if he could do anything to make her feel even better.

Single digit pushes into her slowly, fingering her slowly as his mouth worked her over. Whilst he had waited for this moment since he had met her, he wanted to take his time. There was no rush, none that he was aware of; he wanted to drink her in, take in every movement and scent, anything she would give him would feed him more than any blood could in that moment.

His own arousal had been obvious since the moment he unzipped her dress, but he cared little for it. All he wanted was to focus on her, expecting nothing in return. Malcolm is there to please, and he'll do anything she asks to make that a reality.

If nothing else, she has been bitterly reminded that wolves in the casino are messy — she’s disciplined enough of them in history to know that she has to muzzle them quickly before they go rampant. Malcolm and security — made up of several useful members — had swiftly removed the threat to business by means that can be so eloquently described as they had been tugged out by their scruff. Poor show, to have the blackjack table launched twenty feet in the air.

Fortunately, it didn’t take out anybody on its way back down. The wood had been broken into shards, fast contained. Dorian had taken point on delegating the clean-up. Malcolm (who she hadn’t realised had returned to her side like a personal detail) was suddenly beside her as she passed through the office door.

She’s used to a heartbeat when a hands reach for her dress — on her order. But where the steady thrum usually sits, there is none. No excitable hammering of the bloodied organ. Just silence.

And he’s obeying. A loyal soldier in her army — no, she doesn’t think of Anemoia that way, more familial. A clan of her own, within the constraints of the sprawling one she acts as spokesperson for.

She isn’t thinking about the delicate, but certain way hands release the zipper, driving it south down its train tracks. Men are always keen to undress — woman take their time.

Yet, Malcolm isn’t rushing this. There is a wariness, somewhere, she thinks. And it’s somehow made an urgency take root in her stomach. But the blood of ten minutes prior — the rage of wolves upset has her mind still on the business, on the petty potential she might have to leave a message for whatever pack they belonged to; warn them she might still erase them from existence; curse them for all they were worth.

It’s rash and it’s not her. Much like she doesn’t let men that aren’t the manager take her clothes off in her office. She doesn’t let men, do much actually — but a couple of them now seem to have swindled their way inside her inner circle and she’s keeping them close, in case she might need to see them burn.

Castillon hadn’t even given the order to remove her shoes — but he’s done that too. A smile fixes itself on red lips, as she lets the dress fall. Mal has earned a glance, she supposes as she turns her back to him — the dress is bunched up at the base of the furniture whilst she offers him sight of her behind. She sits herself on the writing desk; back remains towards him. She kicks her lavish chair backwards so it gently knocks the wall behind. Her head turns a few degrees to capture him in her periphery.

“If you’re not up to the task, fetch Dorian.” But he’d better be fast about it, if that’s the case.

With that, Nsilo increases the distance of her knees.

[lstbcys]

How often does your character have nightmares?

they're not as bad as they used to be. he used to have nightmares a lot, but his nightmares became a reality mostly anyway. it used to feel like when he closed his eyes, all he would experience was nightmares. they would be of varying things, but most ended with him being tortured and killed for betraying his vampiric family.

[lstbcys]

What is a topic your character wouldn't want to talk about?

malcolm doesn't like to talk about his past before port leiry with most people, except maybe nsilo but it's still a sore subject. he misses his sire desperately, and the makeshift family ( aside from perhaps one person, but malcolm also won't talk about him hi demitri ). he knows he fucked up, he knows that he turned not one but two people when he shouldn't have both because he couldn't stand to lose the people he loved. he should have learned from the first time, but he apparently he didn't learn from his first time, he's not a fast learner. @nsilocastillon

[lstbcys]

He obviously knew what happened, how tea worked, and he'd seen things happen within the tea rooms but he'd never sat down and actually indulged himself. Did he order something he was specifically interested in? Enjoy what was brought for him? Malcolm had a feeling that tonight it wouldn't matter, and that Nsilo would be in control of what he was indulging in.

Malcolm follows her inside, and the scent hits him immediately. He can smell the blood in the air, but he's okay, he's fine, there isn't blood right there under his nose until they sit and the teapot is in front of them. He swallows thickly, looking between the teapot and Nsilo before hand came to pick up the pot, filling his teacup halfway. That would be enough, right? Molars sank into his tongue as he brought the cup closer to his lips, jaw clenched shut.

Mal hesitated a moment, but brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, slow but long, and yet when he put the teacup down it was still a quarter full. It wasn't bad, not as bad as he thought; from the vein was more dangerous for him though, and he knew that was offered here. . . assumed that Nsilo would have him indulge as his true test.

"Pick a person?" he questioned, though he needn't, he was sure he already knew the answer. The hunger was there, he could feel it already building inside of him but he was determined. He had to prove himself to Nsilo. "Male." was his only request, if he could make one. The last thing the young vampire wanted was flashbacks to Freyja at the masquerade.

What Nsilo doesn't say is her reasoning for pushing this on Malcolm tonight. For sending him into the fray of his ambiguous desire. There's no knowing if he's more accepting of his nature — that the pretty boy who fought his case at her doorstep — to work under the 'Maru delegate has it in him to be anything but feral when he goes for the throat.

"You've never had tea, Malcolm?" It's a tease, because what else did one do in a teahouse? It's a speciality, to dose the night servings with something that caters to the more refined palette. "You walk in, sit. I'll have someone bring us tea." At a base level. In the dark hours, he'll see that tea can be served in private rooms or booths; that servers can be a teapot, or a cup themselves. If he can handle a little drink, he can see how he fares with a willing worker draped over his lap. She's certain he knows how it works, because he's spent hours in the casino.

His promises are admirable, but she doesn't hold out too much hope when she's yet to see a result. He'll learn Castillon doesn't keep those who break their word around too long, she can tolerate a little bit of faith, but she doesn't pine for verbal assurance; it's not worth anything.

They're in familiar surroundings again, Castillon cuts a path to the bloodhouse. Smiling like a devil burning a heeled path on the lavish casino carpets. On entry, there's a table bussed and remade at immortal pace.

A glance is thrown Mal's way, to assess whether she will have to pull him from a scene. Her security should have a level of control, at a minimum. They're the ones who pluck the unwanted runts from their misbehaviour. No good if they lose it themselves. She leads them to the booth, sliding in, as tea is already en route in a jade glass teapot; she scents the bloodied contents, long before it is sat on their table.

Nsilo gently lifts a teacup, leg crossed over the other beneath the table and subtly nods to the array: "Have a drink and then we'll have you pick."

[lstbcys]

"you don't need to try," malcolm whispered in her ear, nipping softly at her earlobe, "stop trying, just be." fingers worked inside of her, searching for that spot that was sure to send her into a flurry of whimpers and moans, the pad of his thumb still working over her clit; soft, but quick, wanting to give her as much pleasure as he could.

"i like it when you tell me what you want, listening to your body. good fucking girl." he smirked at the begging for more, he teased her with another finger, pressing it slowly against her opening for a moment or two before pushing it inside. three fingers now, and deep; he could imagine how full she felt, the intensity of the pleasure as they curled inside of her as he worked them inside her core. "imagine later, me doing this to you all over again except it's my mouth on you, tasting you, drinking you in. i already know how divine your blood tastes, freyja, but i bet this can't compare. i'll eat you out for hours, until you're in touch with your body. that could take. . . mm, days? weeks? i'll do it."

she was so wet, and all for him. malcolm hadn't realised quite how torturous this would be for him, wanting to do so much more for her whilst his own painfully hard cock pressed against his pants. but he could wait. he wanted her to come undone, to focus on her pleasure. his would come, in time.

She squealed as she felt his fingers press into her again and then moaned. She hadn't felt this good in so long. Hadn't allowed herself to feel this good. And now that Malcolm was offering... Freyja couldn't bring herself to say no. She was still slightly worried that it would cause their friendship to shift in some way but... she trusted Malcolm. She trusted that he wouldn't do this with her unless he was absolutely certain.

Warmth pooled into her stomach, downward below her hips. Freyja rocked her body against his hand, whimpering as the pleasure increased with his thumb against her clit. She wanted it so bad but she feared that it wouldn't happen. That he'd get frustrated because of how long it took her. And then what if her magic suddenly came back? What if by doing this, it would cause it to resurface?

His voice brought her back but she still struggled to focus. "I'm trying..." She whined as she squeezed her eyes shut. She moved her hands to his arm, gripping it tightly as her body tensed, relaxed, and then tensed again against his hand. Butterflies slammed against the walls of her stomach again at the good girl comment and she gasped as she felt the pleasure intensify. "M-more. Please, more." She could feel just how wet she was getting as it dripped passed his fingers and against her own skin.