Her Moon- OOC - not in the journal

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the following piece is a of a sensitive and sensual nature. If you may be offended, please stop now.

it is not a story as recorded in Grr's journal, but was written as a glimpse into his life, as seen by the Library Spirit and its inhabitants.
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The icy night air snaps at Grr's furless form as he bounces into the building he has thought of, if not called as home for almost a whole year. Hands tucked into armpits he briefly shakes first one bare foot then the other from the slush that coats them and frowns "fuckin un-natural." In the dimness of the library and wearing the shape of a man, Grr does not smell Her. He would not have heard Her even had he been in a more natural skin. He saw Her hair, pale skin and scarlet dress. Colour, the only redeeming feature of being in this shape. Even had he wished to, pulling his eyes from Her would have been difficult.

The army field manual stated that vampires were naturally attractive, that that was as much a feeding adaptation as his mottled golden fur allowing him to blend into dry grass and desert was. Her prey would be drawn to that beauty as easily as his would oblivious to him. "do come in from the cold GrrBrool, I wouldn't want you to catch your death" He walked over and dropped to one knee beside Her. "ah, I do so love the New moon". He rolled his eyes as She spoke, their joke. "Yer Ladyship..." was all he said, voice and enunciation clearer without a mouth full of fangs.

There were many reasons a casual observer might have found the scene amusing. The tall man in beautiful, if a little worse for wear clothes, the delicate seeming woman, regal in Her finery, one kneeling before the other, unshod even as snowflakes melted in his hair. Or at the way She looked carefully, observed and reached forwards to preen him, plucking a brier from his coat and straightening his long copper-gold hair. A casual observer would see this and perhaps think "what a mismatched couple."

A keen observer would see far more startling reasons to think this. The extra set of buttons at the back of his trousers at the belt line, who goes out with bare feet in the snow. The deathly stillness of Her countenance and pallor. His inhuman golden eyes. This was a couple of beings who were traditionally foes. Yet here the were. Grr leaned into the preening and opened his eyes "well I suppose there are two good things about bein Fleshie". She pauses for a moment and smiles, "and what would they be, my Coyote?" A flash of a broad smile, not innocent but guileless, crosses Grr's human face. "colours and tha look in yer eyes, Yer Ladyship."

Her laugh was musical and long. "thank heavens for small blessings then". A blush creeps over his face and he drops his gaze for a moment but as he does She extends a hand hand and lifts his chin, Her fingers as cool, smooth and hard as porcelain. As his gaze lifted they exchanged a look. For a moment not woman and man, not Lady and Praetor, for a moment, as She locked eyes with him, two predators saw into each other. A serious exchange that again, the casual observer would miss. Yet when She allowed the slightest curl of a smile to cross Her lips, he lifted his head high, the blush faded and broke out into a broad, lopsided, toothy smile.

Taking Her hand from his chin Grr held it for a moment and looked at it. Turning it over in his own, he studied it as She looked on bemused. "what is ... " She began as he pulled the hand to his chest, pressing it flat to his breast. "yer hand is cool, Yer Ladyship, not as cold as air or stone, for ya have fire in ya, but let me offer warmth." With this he shuffled forwards until he bumped his thighs . He placed his hands on the arms of Her char, and tilted his head, leaving his eyes on Her, and offered his neck to Her."Warm yerself?, my Lady?" A more than casual observer, would see this not simply as a thrall offering blood-service to a mistress, but, given the man's hidden, animal self, an act of deep trusting submission, as left her hand on his chest, and bared his throat to her. Knowingly, willingly. She sighed, wistful, or perhaps simply content.

"What a mismatched couple." some might think, but as She cradled his head, and leaned forwards, to place Her red lips against his neck, tracing the lines of his throat with the gentlest of kisses, before pressing Her mouth more firmly against Grr's throat. He winced for a moment, then breathed deeply, and relaxed into the embrace, with an undulating moan. She held him, one hand on the back of his neck, fingers twined through his long loose hair, the other on his chest and drank in his warmth, scent and as she swallowed, the very water of his life.

Holding him, the Lady kept Her lips to his throat, gently massaging the back of his head, still leaving Her other hand upon his chest. Grr knelt at the chair, human looking hands upon the armrests, eyes open, Watching. He saw the expression upon Her face, the gentle rapture of feeding. He watched as colour crept into pale skin. Swaying gently at her touch, and from the Kiss, Grr was focusing on the woman in red to whom he had offered his throat. The hand upon his chest slid upwards, and with a quiet tinkle, finds the bronze amulet that hangs around Grr's neck, and a solid bronze circlet. The slender ring has no latch or catch, and runs continuously around his neck. Her lips still pressed firmly to his neck, She swallows slowly, it is apparent there is no rush, no frantic need, only an intimate, shared moment.

Pulling her lips softly from his neck, She pauses to inspect the mark, and deftly licks with the tip of her tongue, each of the punctures, then licks the skin around them free from bloody smudges. Releasing the hold on the back of his head, She runs Her fingers through Grr's hair once more, straightening a loose strand, still cupping the amulet in the other hand. "I am very pleased to have you at my side, my coyote". Grr blinks several times, and wobbles slightly. She has not drunk deeply, but it is not mere biology that makes him swoon. "i would stay at yer side, Always, Yer Ladyship, or any other place ya would have me" He flashes another broad grin, eyes twinkling between swift blinking as he strove to remain still. She matches his smile, and hooking a finger through the circlet, draws his face to Hers.

She kisses him deeply, and Grr moans again, feeling the chill fading from Her lips, as the heat from his own blood flows through Her. Hotter than human, fueled further by Her own particular nature with each successive beat of Her heart.Their kiss is as passionate and filled with longing as any may be. A brief eternity passes, and She pulls back, he waits, and with a sly smile, She asks "at my side or and place I would have you, is it?". The thought registers in Grr, and
he straightens as he kneels beside the Lady, grins, and not needing words, nods enthusiastically. She releases the grip on the token he wears, and stands, taking his hand leading him away, upstairs.

They move silently, Her pace making little sound on the stone floors, more from ages of practice than any attempt at stealth, Grr's bare human looking feet are rough, but he moves with a simple animal grace, holding hands as they cross the floor, up one set of stairs, then another and across the open floor to Her private office. They slip inside, and the door is closed. They look about the sparse room and move to the couch. Reaching it, She releases his hand, and unbuttons his jacket, and pushes it off his shoulders. With no shirt under it, the broad crisscrossing scars that cover his torso and arm and trace down into his waistline are plain to see. Grr starts to look
bashfully at his body, but She clicks Her tongue and smirks, tracing one scar to another, and reaches up to unfasten the shoulder of her gown. Any sign of shyness is washed from Grr and the dress starts to slip away. Without moving his gaze from the Lady, now a pillar of white, standing in a crimson pool of fabric, red hair spilling over shoulders and back, he unfastens the belt that his too-large-trousers on. They slip away and he steps out of them.

Standing like this, in the dimness of an office, in a winters night, two naked people, one petite, pale and blemish less, the other tall and lithe, in prime condition, but covered in wide, jagged scarring, again, a casual observer might think "what a mismatched couple". They could not be further from the truth.

Grr sways slightly in the cool night air, his skin raised in goosebumps as they stand together, hands just lightly touching as they simply look at one another. Through the closed blinds colourful lights of the Haven twinkle through gaps, the faint sounds from outside add to the setting, in only the slightest of ways. The light that does enter plays off their skins, and still, both watch, and drink in the sights of the other. She reaches up and traces the line of his temple, running fingers through his hair behind his ear. In kind, he dips and rolls his head at the touch. His hands are already on Her as She, takes the half step closer to him, tracing waist and back. Skin meets skin, freshly fed coolness to feverish metabolism's heat. It was not the chill that gave either the stiffening nipples, however, nor the dark that dilated their pupils.

They kissed, and the affection was obvious to any who might have seen, predatory, hungry, but deeply caring of the needs and feelings of the other. Kisses becomes an embrace, the embrace wobbles, and they sit down heavily on the couch. Grr caresses the Lady, but She pushes his hand aside, and puts a hand again on his chest and none to gently pushes him back into the chair. Again, a casual observer would see nothing unusual here, yet a keen observer would notice the shove, slight as it was, moved both Grr and the couch. Once pinned, he squirms once, then stills, as She traces a fingertip over his chest, eliciting a gasp, and more squirming as he is tickled. This amuses Her, and it is continued, working lower and lower. It was not by accident that She brushing Her breasts against him whilst this was happening, thighs and knees to begin with, and as his twitching and squirming built, higher and higher, until She felt his arousal, in very tangible fashion, bumping and rubbing against Her.

At that touch, Grr jolted and let out an almost strangled sigh. His Lady chuckled and asked "oh, My Coyote, should I stop, was that uncomfortable?" The look of shock that crossed his face was exactly as hoped, and his desperate head shaking the reward She was seeking. Pulling back slightly he moved to follow, but the next action She took froze him in place. Dropping arms over his thighs, palms resting on hips, She pulled his legs in with Her elbows till they rested against her flanks. Cool breasts lay on his thighs and his breathing had picked up, but only until She smiled, not Her pleasant, social smile, nor the threatening snarling smile, this was a wicked, and enamoured grin, with bright flames burning in Her eyes, and fangs bared. Grr's breathing stopped. Not fear. He felt no fear in Her presence, vulnerable, yes. Exposed and aroused, yes, but not fear, never fear. He too, was rewarded. She descended and with the barest brush of fang, showed that there was more to Her hunger than blood.

Time stopped, or it seemed to, from Grr's perspective, and the world seemed to fade away, as the Lady took her time, and made him sing. The noises Grr made, the warbling, undulating moans and squeaks pleased Her, and this in turn pleased him. Sweating now, against the cold, he ran finger tips over Her arms, shoulders, ears, and the back of Her neck. Trembling touches, twitching touches, clawing gently at Her with human looking hands. With a last, shudder inducing motion, She pulls away, and up, causing Grr's taught body to drop back to the couch as though he were a puppet with his strings gone slack. Grinning still, She stood up and stepping forwards, straddled him, putting hands on his shoulders. Looking each other in the eyes, She asked "My Coyote, is this what you seek?" As if the answer was ever in doubt, the formality, the askance, the offering and ritual, gave the scene an air of the sacred. And sacred it was. Down through the ages, this offering has been made, and understanding is as clear to Grr, as is his need, and desire. Sacred. "Goddess, yes."

Sliding against him, eyes on each others, She presses Her lips to his, Her breasts to his pumping chest, and both strive, bend, meet and join. Both cry out gently, weather from the sensation, the delight taken in the other, or as further offering to some greater power, none could say. What was true, in all regards, was that as these two came together it was as was meant to be. More than two beings of such different origins. More than Lady and Her man. These were two flames that burnt all the stronger for being together.