♛ Anzhelika Suite

@☪♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet There has really not been a good time to approach the queen. In fact Byulyi has always thought of herself as being a nuisance if she is too approaching the great highness herself. That itself was the reason she hasn’t really muster up the courage until today. Yes, she’s her adopted child but that inferior complex has always got her and thus it only made her weakness come apparent whenever she’s in this situation. Going into the ground tub. The princess walk much closer to the voice and there she is. Her majesty. A true inspiration to the young princess. “You look absolutely radiant. Although when hasn’t her majesty not look so beautiful especially on a moon lit night.” She says walking much closer and bringing herself right up close to the tub outskirts. “Can I join?” She questions wanting to please her mother. “I miss spending nights like this with you.” She says with a quieter voice, hoping to hide her embarrassment but at last face growing a bit more red. “I like to join you on this peaceful night if you allow it. Just thinking about making you feel so good.” It was all about her mother, Byulyi never once thought about herself, she only wanted to worship her mother from head to toe.

@☪♚ San Sekhmet The soft begging did something to Anzhelika. With a iron fist she ruled her kingdom and the same translated in the bedroom. The bedroom was her domain, especially is it was her bedroom they stepped in. Within these four walls her word was absolute and should someone step out of line... she had more than enough reason to off them herself. The hand wrapped around silky warmth stopped as her thumb flicked over the tip, teasing just under the crown; a sensitive area she had come to know. The boy under her had her entire heart on a silver platter in these moments. She would lay down her life to ensure that this one was never harmed. She would ensure he lived the life of his dreams. But first.. she needed to make sure that the demon recoiling in pleasure was satiated first. "Oh my beautiful boy," she cooed, her free hand slithering out from his hair and around his neck in a light hold, "you have no idea how utterly exquisite you look. Flushed and panting... trying your best to voice your needs." The pulse point throbbed under her finger tips and she tightened her hold just enough for San's body to send signals to his brain. But alas, she figured they would be lost in his chase of pleasure. His spine arched creating a beautiful picture. Her tongue slid out to gently at her bottom lip. Reprieve would soon come his way, but first she would enjoy a little bit of... playing. Her fingers left him all at once, only to see her sitting up, body lifting off the boy's and trailing the edge of her underwear. A heartbeat of silence passed before seams ripped and the flimsy piece of cloth was torn from her body. As soon as the underwear came off, she was engulfed in a hug.

His frantic words left her chuckling softly, fingers raking through his hair as she hushed him lightly. To see him so overwrought made her heart throb. Was this what it felt like to be intimately connected to someone? She quickly pushed that question from her mind. Nothing would distract her from her boy tonight. Not even her own woes. For now, she would provide pleasure tenfold. "Tonight is not about me," she whispered, pushing away to cradle the boy's head in her hands. Golden eyes peered down at him with an emotion unspoken. "Tonight is about you, beautiful. I will provide you with what you need tonight. I will take care of you." While she talked she moved, hips hovering over the male's arousal. She cooed lightly as she sank down painfully slow. "Just lie back..." An inch more pushed it's way in her.. "and allow me..." another inch... "to take care of you, my love." Finally she was sitting in his lap, filled to the brim with him as a shudder of realization pulsed through her.

The euphoria that rippled through her was almost magnanimous. When he bottomed out in her she whimpered softly, allowing herself to adjust to the girth that sat snugly in her. Gentle kisses were placed on his face collecting herself silently as she reveled in the slight burn. It had been too long since she hosted someone within her... too long since she felt connected to someone. For once she would rejoice in the burning sensation of her legs spread open, the burn in her core, the heat rolling off of two bodies connected. Her chest heaved with batted breath, arousal seeming to spill off of her in tendrils.

@☪♛ Moon Byulyi The bath steam created an ambiance of mystery. She soaked in her in-ground tub, the soft rose petals floating around her. Her hair, coiffed in a bun, had little strands falling out, framing her face and framing it. Candles a lit created an air of romance, but on her loneliest nights even she didn't have anyone to quell her needs. She had come to the conclusion long before that the silence was her best friend; a kind lover that was crueler than time itself. With a deep breath her hands wandered. Cupping water and gently allowing it to run over her shoulders. The ink on her skin stood out marking her in ways nothing else would. The bite mark between her s remain: a brand she would never outgrow. Humming lightly she allowed the water to cascade from her body before a voice peeked her interest. That voice was more than familiar to her. Smiling lightly, hazel eyes slid open only to look towards the open door of her bedroom. "In here, my love," she called out, knowing the woman would soon find her mother soaking in a bath. The moonlight feared the Queen when she bathed; not light shined in her den as she reveled in the warmth of her bath. The outdoor ambiance was reminiscent of the baths in Egypt when she grew up. A little nostalgia paving the way for the hole within Anzhelika's heart.

@☪♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet Being the princess of the Sekhmet family has never really bother Byulyi, not one bit. In fact living here has always been somewhat fun, fun to the sense of adventure and learning. Sure there are times when she didn't feel she live up to the great queen herself. But those were some days when she over thinks or just had no courage to speak about it.

On this fine night the princess takes herself forward to Anzh's room, having her mind twist with thoughts and opinions that it drove her quite mad. Trying to relax her mind she takes a first step inside of the room. Looking around to see her adopted mother. "Your majesty." She says although feeling very intimidated by the power distance between them. She was adopted after the war had happen. ; just like her brother. Her father died to the superior queen herself which made Byulyi felt even weaker yet this drives her determination to be as strong if not stronger. However that in of itself has it’s own consequences and these days Byulyi has place their queen on top of a huge pedestal..

"Sorry for interrupting your sleep." She says with a lower yet calm voice, her own mind twisting like a tornado and wondering still if it's even a good idea to even stay here. "Are you in here?" Stating this before finally moving herself one step closer in her own nightgown while a shiver comes down her spine.

@☪♞ Kwon Yechan °{ okay uwu ♡ }°

The state of the world had gone to ruin. The humans rose up to attack. They wiped out clan after clan after clan... but the Sekhmets. They stood strong. With their Iron Queen at the forefront the ancient bloodline persevered through all their trials, slaughtering anything in their wake. Be it human or Vampire, if one showed signs of rebellion against them, they were dealt with swiftly. "Slaughter anything that moves in your path," the Queen roared, tearing the head off an unsuspecting victim. Her soldiers responded in kind with roars of their own, the bloodied comrades racing through the battlefield to get to the root of the rise up.

She stepped lightly over bodies. Her ceremonial gown soaked to the core with blood ー vampire and human alike. The jewels in her head dress shined brightly in the fire that raged on the Earth, the moonlight descending upon her like some Archangel of Death. The Queen stopped then only to inhale deeply, her body reveling in the sounds of screams and the scent of terror rippling through the air. If this is what they wanted... this is what theyd get. War.

She stopped then, basking in the scent of blood, only to lay eyes on a male. His words melted on her like the finest honey and her skin tingled with excitement. Someone new to join the Sekhmets. And the scent that rolled off him... he was strong. "What is your name?" she demanded, tone like steel as she hissed lightly through her teeth, baring her fangs to the new one.

@☪♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet San's sanity, his vision, his balance, everything was like a yo-yo. Up and down and up and down, just like her hand that was /finally/ giving him a bit of release from the pressure. San had come to her tonight on the brink of losing it, and she calmed him, then he slipped, and she'd brought him back again, with her gentle touches, kisses, and affectionate little pet names for him, her praises to his looks. It was a warm feeling that washed over him every time his mother called him pretty. Not a primal, heated warmth, but one that came from sitting by a fire. A safe warmth. And in the back of his head, that's where she wanted him to be, so he would feel comfortable blubbering out his desires, but he was so weak for her he couldn't help but give in every time. Though, sometimes he was slower to speak than others, and tonight was one of those nights.

And Anzhelika didn't particularly like that. When she asked, it demanded an immediate answer, or almost immediate, if you were one of her children. But his wasn't even almost immediate. It was just a little whine, an attempt to speak despite how much his head was being smothered in heat, blood, and lust. San almost thought to slip his hand between her legs and rub her over her shorts, but before he could, she yanked his head back. The shiver that raked down San's spine made him sit up as straight as his manhood did in her hand. "M-mommy, I-" he groaned and whimpered from the pleasing pain in his scalp. He loved getting his hair tugged on.

"S-sorry, mommy, I-I-" he hissed and started to pant as his eyes stayed locked on hers. "I do wanna make you happy, mommy, want to make you feel good," he scrambled to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to him, resting his chin between her s while he looked up at her, frantically nodding. "I want you to use me how you want, m-mommy, let me be your toy tonight? Please?" he stumbled over his words, sentences devolving to fragments, to single words, and looping to a point of repeating himself.

@☪♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet [i kind of want to rp their first meeting first, to get a feel for their future/present self]

-flashback-

The wind growled through the empty plane, stirring up the stench of death that soaked into the very Earth itself. Rivers of vampire blood glistened in the moonlight and in its midst, he kneeled. His slouching, black frame was screaming out to the world- in silence. Rage bubbled in every cell of his body but it mixed with humiliation and pain. His claws sunk into the body of his last enemy, slowly pulling a beating heart free from its protecting bones. He tried to enjoy this final slaughter, to let the vampire's tortured gargles be music in his ears... but what was the point? Everyone was dead. His family, his coven. They had lost. His fingers closed around the organ. Splat. The sound of the heart exploding disgusted him. How fragile a heart was. To think they had lost to the likes of this. He was not a refined man and punched the ground in anger. As his fist sank into the muddy ground a soul-shattering roar erupted from the depth of his lungs. Shockwaves rippled through the Earth, making the puddles of blood quiver around him. "Haah. Haah." He gasped, tears almost threatening to well in his eyes as the tragedy of the situation shook his core, like the gong of an ancient temple sounding the destruction of all reality he knew. Suddenly, it felt like the world was collapsing around him. His breathing threatened to grow ragged and his mind threatened to slip- but he grit his teeth and steeled his gaze. . This was not the day he would let weak-mindedness get the better of him. The icey fire inside him simmered down into a slow burn bubbling just below the surface. "." His slouched spine straightened bone by bone, arching back, and his blood-stained hands snapping up to brush his hair back as his face met the moon's cold light. His eyes were closed. A low hum, almost pleased, rolled out of his throat. Dark red stained his forehead, stretching to the roots of his black hair, only darkened further by the blood. The smell was overwhelming and made his sanity tremble. It was time to go. Two dark slits opened, peering up at the sky. Curse the gods, for his, had abandoned him. It was time to find a new one. The silence was mocking him, belittling the screams and roars of his people as a fleeting moment of the past. The muscles of his shoulders and legs tensed as he rose up, now at his full height towering over the scattered corpses. There stood a figure in the distance. Mysterious, waiting. [can be Anzh or someone else] "....." He had lived for so long and never thought this day would come. One step before the other he moved towards the figure, each footstep like a hammer to his pride as a leading member of his coven. He had not been the king. The king had been a fool, insisting on driving their brethren to ruin. And here they were. If he still got to have an afterlife he would find his king and slice his skin off piece by piece, dig out his insides and make him eat them. For a start. A mental image sprouted in his mind and brought a smile to his lips. That smile remained as he arrived in front of the figure. "Let me join your coven."

[post deleted by owner]

@☪♚ San Sekhmet Sweet. Tart. Spicy. With an edge of something... more. Written in his blood was the personalities cultivated over the years. Screaming. Gnashing. The San she once knew. The Broken. The Ghost. All of them meshed together in a cocktail of insanity that she swallowed down by the mouthful. She was greedy. All of it... she could taste all of it and all of it... was calling out to her. The warmth of his skin mixed with the taste of his blood had her hips canting and moving against him in a slow, tantalizing pace that set her even further ablaze. The monster within her roared to attention, it's ravenous claws tearing at her from the inside as she ripped away from his skin, head tilted upwards and gasping for air. Soft, crimson droplets raced down the sharp juncture of her jaw and down her neck as her breathing leveled out.

The soft babbling of her baby boy under her garnered her attention quickly and she looked down with shining ruby eyes. Pools of churning red and gold absorbed the image of San beneath her and she purred with acknowledgement. "Look at you.. so desperate and beautiful," she chuckled, moving her hips just a bit so she could reach down and toy with the waistband of his pants. Slender, ink laden fingers delved into the confines of his pants and pulled down.. allowing the boy free from the restriction. The manhood bounced gently and a smirked pulled against her now rosey lips as her fingers wrapped around the heated flesh in a loose hold.

"Use your words, my love," she whispered, pressing soft kisses to the boy's face as her hand gently moved up and down in a lazy, almost trepidatious, way. "I want you to tell me exactly what you want. Dont you want to make mommy happy?"

She purred like a lioness content with her kill. Her tongue lapped at the open wounds before her fist closed around the soft hardened flesh in a vice-like grip. Her voice was a low, predatory growl now as she fisted the male's hair and yanked his head back almost violently. "Answer. Me. San."

She would toy with the glass-like sanity he had. Watch it shatter under her fingertips as he unleashed the beast upon her. But for now she will be the one to put his in his place and ensure he followed all of her commands to a T.

@☪♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet It was rare for the beast to have no words, but when he was with Anzhelika, she without fail left it damn near speechless every time.

"Have I taught you no manners?" she asked him, but the "it" that had come out of San could only whimper and whine out its reply. His eyelids fluttered as she sat on him, dragged herself on him. The texture of the dampened satin against his thin pants only made his eyes roll back in his head for a second, made him twitch up toward it, throb against it. Even though she sat on it, there was still quite a prominent, proudly standing tent in between his legs, he was too hard. He knew better than to think there was no way she could make him harder than he was, she always did. Every bit of torment she through would be worth it, but in the moment he found it agonizing. The way the damp cloth clung to her core as she ground down on him. Her hair fell over her face a bit, down her shoulders. Her s rose and fell with each shared breath the two took. His sanity was slipping again, could barely make a coherent thought, but this time it was for a better reason.

San tried to answer after somewhat grabbing ahold of himself, "M-mother, I––" but it just trailed off into a hiss as he heard the familiar pop of skin, felt the burn of fangs plunging into his neck and the rush of blood pushing out around those fangs and spilling into . It yanked a loud growl from his throat that just petered off into a grunt. And with that bite, both Anzhelika and the beast had San's throat in their clutches. There was no way he'd be talking tonight.

She didn't feed from him much, he was usually the greedy one, she was right. But when she did? If San didn't have as good a grip on himself as he did, he'd come every time. He knew it was taboo to feed from other vampires, but, hell, if it felt good? San knew whenever he died... again. Permanently. He'd be going to hell anyway, so why not sin himself all the way to Dante's ninth circle?

While she was preoccupied in taking her fill from him, his head tilted to the side to allow his mother as much room as she desired, and every lap of the tongue, every slight shift of pressure between his legs from her weight made him shiver, whine, squirm, shudder out a hot breath against her neck. Hips started to roll, coaxing that tent to rise, to thicken against those satin folds (of both skin and cloth alike), coaxing that slick, red-hot desire to come out from between her legs. It was like beckoning for a shy kitten. Be careful, be gentle, be patient, and it’ll come to you. And San had trouble with that last part — the patience. Without fail, this point was the one that left him the most impatient, left him squirming and whining and pleading the most, left him the noisiest. He could dish out the teasing, but dear god, he couldn't take it. It was too much for him — but in the best way possible. Everything he felt, he felt tenfold. The rush of his blood both out from his neck and down between his legs left him dizzy, the heat between his legs practically burned between hers, and in those moments he wish it did, just to get rid of the cloth between them. The way she held him still, the pleasant ache of his spine as his back arched up just as elegantly as hers had while they took what they wanted from each other.

But, as his mind raced, ebbed, and came right back, San's hips fell into a sinfully slow, dragging grind, pushed as close to his mother as he could get them. Her bite had already left him in a daze, left him panting, exhales trailing off into deep groans. He finally mustered the energy to turn his head, biting down on her earlobe and tugging on it as hard as he could with a low and startlingly innocent purr.

"Mommy, it hurts..."

Yes, most obviously San meant that awfully solid tent in his pants. But so did the blue hot waves of goosebumps that she caused, the pull of each and every hair as it stood stick straight. And so did his neck. But his head hurt the most. Not a headache, but the way his sanity toyed with him, and the way she toyed with his sanity. It was like a tug of war, Anzhelika pulling him back out, the other pulling further in, yet other times she'd be helping pull him past the breaking point just to yank him back out of Anubis' clutches by the hair, by his nape, much like their familiars to their young. It hurt so bad, but it was Anzh. He loved it, loved her. He knew she could do no wrong. She wouldn't leave him. His lips parted with a soft gasp as he moved his hips just right against her. The animal, the little devil on his shoulder, made a fire broil in his stomach and his chest, and it ripped out of his throat in the form of a gravelly growl.

If she knew how delicate his sanity was, why did she play with it each time they were together?

But wasn't that just the very nature of teasing?

The normal, most sane part of the zombie that he was, pushed a tear from his eye and made him whimper once again before the animal snuffed its flame for the time being. "Mommy, please..." it begged, curling its limbs in: knees pulled in and brought Anzhelika closer, arms hooked underneath Anzhelika's to hold onto her shoulders and tug her closer to him, chest flush to his. It had had enough of the teasing, and he could tell if it didn't get fed the way it demanded, it would devour her how it saw fit... no matter how much blood it would cost.

@☪♚ San Sekhmet It was like a drug.

The endorphins flooded her brain and soon she was swooning as the blood flowed from her like a faucet, every single droplet caressed by the male's tongue and swallowed down. The ecstacy that came with a feeding was more than Anzhelika had prepared herself for. She knew it was intimate. She knew it crossed boundaries. But could she deny him? Absolutely not. She could never. Even if she truly wanted to. But did she? No. During these feeding moments Anzhelika could feel rhe soft link between the two. The pair had been feeding off each other (moreso the male) for years now and even though they weren't bonded something akin to a bond had grown. Maybe it sas because of their shared blood. Maybe it's because of the constant feeding. Whatever this magic was it certainly was organic and did not stem from their own powers. A heat flooded her veins and she shuddered at the thought of being open like a book in front of the boy. Her pages were being turned slowly, fingers dancing against the delicate pages as he deftly caressed every word written on the parchment. A secret book that she had kept closed and padlocked shut ー never to be read out loud to the public. Anzhelika was a private woman and kept her bed partners even more private. But to have someone who so easily opened her up and riled her to her bones... that was unheard of. The desire was blossoming within her. That heated, red, slick desire that mewled and clawed at her from within. 'Set me free,' it would beg.

The sounds that grew from the male were music to her ears. Such animalistic prowess she had never seen from anyone before in her life. While bed partners came and went easily, she had yet to experience anything quite like San. For all his inexperience and youth he could easily outdo any bed partner Anzhelika could name. The Queen whined softly under him, that tell tale sign of the boy's arousal thick and solid as he pressed it against her. Her core ached softly, every nerve ending within her screaming with reprieve. The woman was unraveling beneath him as her sanity slipped silently from her.

The growls. The groans. The soft moans of approval. One by one each sound reverberated within the confines of the bedroom, the flames from the candelabras dancing against the red wallpaper. They echoed and resounded within the woman, vibrating her to her very soul. Each mouthful of blood withdrawn from her was just another addition to her fire. The sweltering heat that she had become. Her body oozed lava, a languid flow of pleasure and heat that only seemed to come out when she was in the throes of feeding. Her fingers, deft and precise tugged at the changing hair, the colours flashing before her eyes as they went from the usual white and black to the inky red mixture that took her breath away. That could only mean one thing:

The animal was released from his cage.

It was only once in a while when San allowed this side to show -- a dangerous cacophony of insanity and debauchery. It was a change that Anzhelika found absolutely... enthralling. The soft lullaby of a creature so treacherous to not only himself, but to people around him, was as enticing as it was detrimental. Should he be left to his own devices Anzhelika was sure that San could reek havoc on half the vampire population. The blood soaked creature was feeding from her and she hard no qualms against it. She would gladly allow him the chance to down every drop that sought refuge within her body. After all... she would just come back to life.

Her secret? She enjoyed it. She loved the rush that came over her when someone even remotely close to her constitution and power would reveal themselves. It left her shaking with adrenaline and breathless. And San was beautifully vile in his sanity. His insidious nature making her bones quake with wanton need. When he pulled away her breath stuttered in , her own glassy, crimson eyes catching a glimpse of the deep scarlet orbs leering at her. He held her gaze for what seemed like hours on end. The only thing that ripped her out of her breathless reverie was the sound of satin threads snapping at a horrifyingly quick pace. Though she knew what was happening (the tell tale signs of claws running against her skin) she still managed to pass a gasp of surprise through her parted lips. She lay, bare chested, under the male. Her s rose and fell with each labored breath, ink stretching across the midsection of her chest, travelling between the valley of her bosom. Tiny droplets of blood beaded on her skin -- something she didn't even think about. Why would she? She would heal enough within the next few seconds. But the scarlet liquid on her bronzed skin was more than enough to set any person off -- human and vampire alike.

A trail of fire was scorched down her skin, between her s and down her stomach, her back arching in a magnificently elegant bow; a silent prayer for more. When he pulled away she knew what he was looking at: a woman so positively enthralled, rose hues dusting her cheeks and the top of her chest. No words were exchanged. No utterance needed as she watched the monster corral his need and delved into his indulgence. He leaned in and with a gentle kiss, pressed his lips to that all too sensitive scar that seemed to never want to heal -- a mark he had left her when he had awoken from the dead. He had sunk his teeth deeper than any other person had in her life, those teeth almost hitting bone as he greedily the life from her. Fingers ghosted over the overly sensitive buds on her chest and a hiss of pleasure was pushed past clenched teeth. They pebbled and hardened under his touch, the skin pulling taut as goosebumps raised over her exposed flesh. This was nothing like his feeding. It was slower, tender. And when he pressed a kiss to the other exposed bud she was more than mewling. A long, drawn out moan was pulled from the depths of her pleasure as he , flicked and gently at the hardened , her back arching as a hand splayed across the back of his head and cradled him there.

Sparks of electricity traveled through her body. It made her fingers twitch, her toes tingle, her spine arch and her core throb. And she could tell her was at his wits end. The neediness was overriding the hunger and she could feel him start to lose the ability to think straight. As she cleared her own foggy mind she concentrated her efforts on the boy whining into her skin. He led and pressed, rutting up against her like an animal in heat. And in this state he was nothing short of. She smiled, lovingly, at the boy who seemed to want more, but wouldn't voice it. Perhaps tonight he was giving her the reigns. Most nights he would leave her a shuddering mess, beautifully spread out and debauched. Other nights she would be the one to make him squirm, sometimes even beg. Tonight was one of those nights. Where the power was not up for discussion, but rather offered in ceremony on a silver platter. Anzhelika was always one for control: holding onto it tightly and never wanting to let go. Without control there would be chaos and a Queen would never incite chaos within her own realms. But there were times where even the Queen needed to be taken care of and shed that control, handing it over to someone she illicitly entrusted with her own body. With a smile she hushed him gently, removing the male from her skin as she turned his gaze upon her. Without a sound she flipped their positions, holding him steadily against the plush pillows with a firm hand to his chest. He was far too over dressed for her liking, but that would come later...

"My dear boy," she whispered, her voice dripping with honey as she slowly situated herself into his lap, right over the magnificent tent in his pants. "Look at you... so desperately hanging onto your sanity. And for all you're worth you've lost it in the heated taste of blood." A hand dragged through his hair as her hips canted suddenly, dragging clothed arousal together in a tormenting manner. A chuckle then as she grabbed the back of the boy's hair with a loose fist, grinding down against him. "Making a mess out of me... how selfish. And you never thought to allow me a taste of yourself? For shame. Have I taught you no manners?" spread into a tantalizing smile as her own fangs protruded from her plump lips.

Without another word she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into the boy with a guttural moan, the skin giving way under her harsh bite as she held him still.

@☪️♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet Anzhelika tasted just like she had those many many years ago when he woke up in her arms. The finest Egyptian wine, cherry wine. They weren't bonded by a blood oath, he had been born a vampire, after all, not turned. But. After years of feeding from his mother, he felt something akin to what one would feel in a blood oath: her feelings. Though... since her blood was only taken in pure, unabashed, fiery red lust, that's all of her feelings he could feel, and only at times like this. That shared desire between the two of them only made it feel even better than it already did, and he supposed that was one of many driving forces that kept him coming back for more. San had never strayed from seeking pleasure, and he hadn't limited his playing field either, but never in his centuries of life, had he ever been with a person that made him feel as good as the woman whose legs he was laying between, whose heat he was rutting against as he fed: his mother, the queen of Sekhmet herself.

The grunts and the growls only got louder as she touched him, tugged on his hair, as he slid what was causing the tent in his pants against her. What tingled inside of her and made her shiver and drip beneath him made his blood rush further south, made shivers shoot up and down his spine, it made goosebumps wash over his skin, made the hairs on his neck stand straight up under her touch. Under his touch. Every time, without fail, it brought out that red-headed demon inside of him, whose eyes glittered scarlet like an animal. His hair shifted color for the second time that night: white to black, black to red, and his eyes followed the same pattern: milky grey, red, scarlet. Once that red-headed beast was out, there was no getting rid of it until it decided it was done.

But San knew Anzhelika knew this. Even better, San knew Anzhelika /liked/ this. He could feel it. He pulled away to look at her with those scarlet eyes – and oh, no, he wasn't done feeding. His claws shot out with a quiet, unnerving popping noise. They raked down the queen's shirt, down between her s, and it was in tatters – no big deal, any of them had plenty of money to buy thousands more – and she was bleeding a little bit, but no matter. San pressed a few wet kisses to her chest and her stomach before she could heal them, her blood off of his lips and his claws. He kept her bottoms on, he loved to wait until the last minute for those. Besides, he had enough to play with above them...

San's hips stilled for the time being, and his claws shrank back down to his normal nails. His eyes did the devouring, now. They took in her face. He wasn't sure if it was fear that struck it, or if it was stricken with lust, but he liked either option. They travelled to her neck, and then to her décolletage, right down the valley between her s, along the serpent inked into her chest, down the head it slithered up from. He took in all of her body, all of her tattoos. He loved the way she looked like this, bare, sweating, breathing. She already oozed the smell of , and so did he. And blood, couldn't forget that smell. His mother drove him crazy, yet quelled every desire in him. A beautiful paradox. Wouldn't have it any other way, any other time of day.

San had bitten her so hard that day. When he woke up. There was a little scar just above one of her s. Imagine that, a royal vampire, able to flawlessly heal, with a scar. His eyes wandered to it. He thought it was pretty. For a bit, the beast's sparkling, glittering eyes focused on it, its head tilting from one side to the other at a glacial pace. She loved him so much, so hard, that she let him feed as much and as roughly as he needed to that day, and every day since, for centuries.

His heart pounded in his ears. It meant she was waiting, yearning, for him to do something. So San leaned in and pressed a kiss to that scar, hand cupping the supple flesh. The other hand soon followed suit to knead its opposite. At first, his fingers left her s alone as he kneaded her, on the scar, but soon enough he became more eager, and his fingers grazed over them. His lips soon followed, and he gently kissed the pert bud he was closest to. He nipped at it, flicked and rolled his tongue over it, and gently on it. Gentle ling satiated him for now, kept him still as he kneaded and squeezed and pressed at her skin. If he got needier, he took more of her into his mouth, harder. But San refused to pull away, he only panted through his nose against her skin, sweat-slicked hair veiling his face gently puffing along with those breaths.

Finally, San let up. Just to give the same treatment to the other. He shifted between her legs with a soft rustle of the sheets and a grunt against her skin as he pushed himself closer to her core. He wanted no barriers, it was making his head spin, but he didn’t want to break first. He wanted to remain in control as long as he could, before the power was up in the air. He never knew who’d take control each night they were together. Most nights Anzh made him a crying, sniveling mess, and he loved it, while on other, rarer, nights, San left her breathlessly proud of him. And the more he contemplated where the power was going to land, he found himself almost handing it to her on a silver platter: growls turned to desperate, breathy whines, firm grasps to frantic clutches, hips pressed harder, more of a begging, pleading push rather than an assertive one.

@☪️♚San Sekhmet The boy was warm. So warm. The body heat rolling off of him almost brought tears to her eyes. This was her son -- alive and (almost) well. The day she found him, alone and dead, she was broken. Half of her heart was missing. She had searched for days through the farthest reaches of the lands and yet, there was still no sign of him. He was rambunctious child, full of vim and vigor, and god... she could never get enough of it. The loss of not having her own children was replaced by the need to take care of her deceased brother's twins. There was jealousy in her eyes when she first laid gaze upon the two bundles of joy... sadly, their mother had not made it through the child bearing and died shortly after the youngest one was born. But to see her brother so enamored with two souls that were half him.. something in Anzhelika snapped. More so the ritual battle would be bloody. And when that time came she resented her brother for finding happiness in the form of children. Even with his wife gone he still held onto hope when he gazed into his children's smiling faces. On that fateful day of reckoning, Anzhelika unleashed her resentment and hatred and loss and agony on her undeserving brother. She was a deadly weapon, wielding her pain and suffering like a finely tuned speared -- that went right through her brother's heart. Bloody and battered she stood the victor, looming breathlessly over her dead brother's body. While the adrenaline was more than enough for her to silently celebrate her victory, her heart ached. She had killed off her own brother. Someone she had loved dearly. And with her younger sister gone, her brother dead... who would she have to love her now?

The moment she was allowed to leave the ritual battlefield she was met with two realities: she was the Queen and her brother's children were orphaned. They posed a threat to her throne. With the bloodshed she knew and the tactics that were literally drilled into her, she should have killed them. Should have put them in the ground alongside their mother and father... But she couldn't. Those wide, unknowing eyes looked up at her and she broke down. This was the love she was searching for. Her parents were brutal and unyielding when it came to having the perfect candidate take their throne. The throne that was built on bloodshed and war. Celebrated for it's iron-clad might and ruthless resolve. Her sister was married off because she was too weak and now with her brother bested in battle, Anzhelika remained the victor and the Voodoo Queen.

The twins had replaced the love she failed to capture from her parents and gave her a reason to... be. A surrogate mother, she raised the two ruthlessly, but celebrated their small victories. She was a mother. She was a Queen. She wanted the children to rise together and be the best Sekhmet had to offer -- other than herself, of course. And she watched them grow up beautifully. Heejin had a steely resolve that matched Anzhelika's and the Queen could not have been prouder. She was a lioness coming to full fruition and Heejin showed no signs of slowing down. Anzhelika may have been harsher on the girl but it did not change the fact that part of the Queen's heart belonged to her. San, on the other hand... a boy in many ways. While he was astute and attentive, he was also very... preoccupied.

The day that they found San's body in the desert Anzhelika's heart sank. Cold. Brittle. A fragment of the boy she used to know. She felt her heart break. Tears streamed down her face as agony boiled in her blood. She approached the boy with shaking hands, scooped him up and held him in her lap. For all the power in the world, she wanted nothing more than to drag her boy back from the clutches of Anubis and back into her arms.

And she could.

This was the Voodoo Queen. This was Anzhelika Sekhmet. This was the Queen of Resurrection.

Power flowed through her veins as she recited the ancient chant, calling upon Anubis to set her boy free. Bast lit with power and called back the wandering San from the land of the dead and propelled him back into his body. The joy she felt when he gasped for breath - the hint of terror behind her short moan when teeth sunk into her neck. A feeling she had yet to enjoy to its fullest, and here she was... allowing the boy to drink down her blood as greedily as possible.

But tonight was no night for reminiscing. It was not a night to slink back into the past and remember the moment San became something more than a boy. That was the moment he graduated from a boy into the terrified, haunting image of a man he was today. The same man who ripped the sheets from her bed and allowed it to fall to the ground as if it had somehow offended him.

Ah... those late night rendezvous since then... The passion that coiled within her. Perhaps she was just busy with ruling a Kingdom that she had lacked the aptitude to take care of her own personal womanly attentions. She had staved off her own pleasures in favour of watching others build up... and her breaking them down. But when San had come to her that night, begging softly to be touched, who was she to deny him? He was her boy. Her love. And any sight of the mother than Anzhelika had become vanished in an instant. What stood in her stead was a woman - plain and simple - vying for the attention of a man who was starved of a woman's touch. Allowing those iron walls to come down she shed her usual facade and allowed her primal instincts to run wild -- a freedom she had yet to discover on her own. Anzhelika had become a figment of her own imagination. The fire. The passion. The desire. It all consumed her until the woman in her mewled with delight when the boy would come to seek her out. Her love for the man had grown, but the love for the boy he was would always remain.

Before she knew it she laid before him, uncovered and unabashed in her slightly dressed state. Rough hands gripped her hips, her body rather than her eyes saw what was happening, her skin tingling with each rustle of his body against hers. With eyes still closed she stuttered a soft breath as he moved closer, pressing himself against her in an intimate manner than she her entire being on fire. Settled between her legs she was was his prey. A feast laid out before a starving man. A man who had never seen a meal weeks before his death. Even the clothes that separated them did nothing for the heat that was sparking. She could feel where his eyes wandered... could feel the burning paths they took as they wandered up her body, between the valley of her heaving s and up to that spot...

That spot that they both preferred. That spot that was so easily hidden. That spot that was forbidden. And that spot throbbed as he moved in close. She could feel each time before this -- each time he sunk his fangs into her and drank. Each time he devoured her.

And soon enough he was at that spot again. It didn't take long for her skin to give way, that loud 'pop' ringing through her ears as his hands gripped her hips in a bruising grip. A gasp, loud and crisp, rang from her as her eyes shot open, hips bucking against his grip as heat flooded her body all at once. Those fangs embedded itself deep within her flesh and by gods... suddenly she had molten lava flowing through her veins, at her from the inside out. Had he not been holding her down she was sure her hips would meet his in a fit of passion. A strangled moan bubbled up through , hands tangling themselves in his hair and tugging just lightly. Was she trying to pull him in or push him away? In her heated passion she did not know. All she knew was that the world shrunk down to this very moment: her boy feeding from her. Her heart raced within her chest, beating so loudly it drowned out the sound of his thirst quenching slurps.

But it was that growl. Primal and feral. Animalistic. The growl that she answered with her own fluid moan. A silent urgency, "continue. Don't stop."

@☪️♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet San had always loved his mother. His Anzh. Was so devoted to her, like any son would be expected to be. Attentive, reverent, obedient. That never changed, never wavered, before, after... even /in/ death. And that would never change... sort of. He was still the same boy, same man, but when he was a teen, something bubbled up in him. Unbridled love for her. Not just the mother-son love he had had as a child. The way his mother doted over, spoiled her eldest, the sole Prince of Sekhmet, it did something to him, for him. Those affectionate touches soothed him as a child. Fired him up as an adult. Did both as the zombie she had made him.

Lucky enough for him, she reciprocated those repressed flames of his with those of her own that one night. That night, in his mind, she was a woman first, and his mother second. And, oh, how he loved that change. He could and touch her back in the day, and reap the benefits at night. No one seemed to know, and that's how he liked it. That's the only thing that changed. He still obeyed her, revered her. He only loved her different now.

'Anywhere you desire, my love,' was all he needed to hear. It was the key she granted him to all of her each night they were like this, cuddled up together, swaddled in blankets, soothing the little boy in him that was so. So. Far gone. His hands used to shake, he even used to cry at first. He felt bad drinking from his mother, felt guilty that it was the only thing that would calm him for a while. Felt guilty that he had asked her to touch her son like that, he assumed she'd find him disgusting. But now his hands knew where they liked to rest, where she liked them to rest, and he knew where she liked him to bite. The sheets rustled under San's movements, he ended up pushing them off and sending them fluttering to the floor in a shiny, silken pool of fabric.

Their fall revealed his mother to him in her entirety in the moonlight peeking into her room. Her legs were open for him, her head was tilted for him. Her clothes were of the same silk the sheets were, and they hung loose on her. Wherever he desired, huh? It would be a shame if one fingernail just grew and... San blinked and found his eyes wandering to her s, and he quickly snapped his gaze back up to her. That spot they both of them liked to bite, to have bitten, shimmered under the moonlight: her neck. But not too low on the neck. She liked to keep it hidden, the bite marks and the bruises he'd leave. He always left some trace of their witching hour soirees behind on her, so it was best to find a place to hide it. San found out the two of them liked hiding it behind her ear, just a little below her jawline, so there still a bit of flesh for San to bite into and chew on. And the pop of the skin and the vein right up against her ear and his fangs would drive him wild.

So that's where he found himself situated. Nestled between her legs, his hips close enough to hers to be considered "dangerously" close. San liked to call it "comfortable." His head fit in the dip of her neck perfectly, forehead pressed into the pillow she was laying on. Sweat already dripped from his hair and onto hers as their ebony and ivory locks tangled together, and even though he used to mind, neither of them did anymore. When he was an animal, he'd slowly turn her into one, too, it just took a bit of time. And it would be worth it, he knew all too well.

And with a 'pop' of her skin, and a sinfully, primally wet slurp from between San's lips, and a squeeze of Anzh's hips with both hands, his fangs were buried deep in his mother's skin, her blood already pouring into his mouth. Damn, did she taste good... He growled to himself at her taste.

He missed his bundle of cherries, and he refused to let any bit of her fruit to go to waste.

@☪️♚San Sekhmet The is a lull in silence. A moment of reprieve as she soaks in the tranquility, the sound of her lionesses the only thing purring through the softness. the sheets rustle with movement, her body moving with the ebb and flow of the male pressed against her. It is then that she realizes he has stopped shaking. He has stopped sobbing. A stretch of time that he has stopped hurting. A peace filled tick that would only call upon the hunger that is left behind. She can feel it. Like a cold chill in the morning, raising the hair on the back of her neck and the soft, invisible hairs on her arms. She can feel the beast rear it's head, an insidious blood soaked smile curdling at the edges of her vision. It is in these instances that Anzhelika finds her steely, iron-clad resolve shaken.

His voice pulls her from her enigmatic reverie and she listens with soft attention, eyes peering down at her shaken boy. The little boy she raised, who clung to her. The little boy she loved, who looked up to her. The little boy she mourned, whom she brought back to life. He was here and yet... not. Physicality aside and he was nothing but a tattered and torn version of himself ー and she couldn't help but feel responsible for it.

Time had taken it's toll on him, this she knew well. It went from late nights staying awake to ensure he fell asleep. Early mornings, rising with a start at his painful howling. Long nights of cradling him in her arms, humming the soft Egyptian lullabies. To a turn of events she had not quite expected. The soft whisper of his pleading against her neck shattered her and she was more than willing to give him what he desired. Anzhelika would always be a woman before she was a mother.

Glossy. Lost. Looking past her. San was losing himself. The Voodoo Queen knew how to bring him back; she's always know how to bring him back. Those doe-like eyes had her sighing softly, a wistful sound passing perfectly plump, red lips as both hands combed through his hair, the body situating itself for primal intake. She spared no words as she reclined against the lush pillows, allowing her boy all the room her needed as her legs fell open in welcome. "Sometimes I forget what a beast my lovely boy can be," she hummed with unbridled adoration. A soft laugh started from her chest and bubbled up from as her eyes slid shut and her head lolled back. She would give him what he needed... what he desired.

"Anywhere you desire, my love."

@☪️♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet The smoothness of those silk sheets, the warmth of his mother's body, the methodic caress of her fingers against his scalp and through his hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest accompanied with the warm breaths against his head all soothed him a great deal. The relaxed purr of his mother's lionesses lulled his eyes shut for a moment, and the rumble of her voice in her chest roused him. Just being in her arms brought back some of the man he was; pushed the ghost at bay. It did't take long for him to start making little jokes.

"You say 'quell' as if I'm a ravenous dog, mother," he taunted, his voice low and hushed, though still shaky from the tears and hoarse from the wail.

They both knew what he wanted, this happened every time. But every time he enjoyed the banter the two would share. He wanted /her/. At the very beginning, he only needed to fall asleep in her arms. Then came the need to feed. And one night in the past, when he came close to never feeling anything again, he had muttered "Touch me..." against her neck. Maybe he was like a dog, now, only satiable through being fed and being touched... He was spacing out again, wasn't he. San cleared his throat and looked up at his beloved mother, his eyes glowing bright, but they were the color of a sweet red wine, and they seemed to slosh like liquid in a glass as well. They looked up at her, doe-eyed with adoration.

San let out a grumble from deep in his chest – it sounded like a lion's purr – as he turned to lay on his stomach betwixt her legs, pressing a soft kiss to her sternum, between her s where his head had been resting. He could taste her blood from there, just from that kiss. It was sweet, rich. To him, it tasted like black cherries, and his fangs grew to poke at his lower lip immediately, already drooling a little bit. Tonight was not a night for back-and-forth, it seemed. He was too hungry... or was it too frightened?

The pounding of her heart against his ears only increased in volume upon the arrival of his fangs, and it made his eyelids flutter as he looked up at her. All he could muster was a soft inquiry of "Where" to bite her this time. He needed her blood so bad, needed his fix of silky smooth cherries. Needed "mommy" to make it all better

@☪️♚San Sekhmet The howl of an animal in pain. No. Not an animal.Roused from slumber the lionesses were the first to rear their heads, ears laid flat back against their head as the screech echoed through the halls, ringing in the ears of the slumbering Queen. A muscle twitched. A hand roamed over silken sheets. Anzhelika woke with a graceful start as her blood red eyes focused on the wall across from her. Red tapestries hung from her walls, the candlelit room an ambience waiting to be set ablaze. Time fluttered by but nothing would help soothe the ache of the afterlife when it came to her boy. The poor boy she brought back to life... the very boy whose screams resounded in the depths of her immortal soul.

It was like this since he had awakened. The nightmares plagued him. After images of the life beyond this one. She could only imagine the images that plague his mind.. what horrors had beseeched him. The boy was a weakness of hers ー as well as his sister ー and she would lay down her very life to ensure their safety.

A presence rattled her; looming in the doorway like a familiar lover ー but not as keen. It was then that she rose from the plush mattress, eyes landing on the familiar figure with a knowing gaze. The question itself went unanswered as she watched the boy approach, wary in the way he acted when in the clutches of his terror. On the threshold of life and death San was but an enigma of himself. Not quite a boy and not yet a man. A foreshadow of doom that Anzhelika clung to for dear life. A crack and roll of his shoulders and suddenly the hefty body was before her, cheeks stained with tears.

And for once Anzhelika let out a stuttering breath. That hoarse voice wound itself around her heart and squeezed until she too was shaking. A hand reached out, allowing the silk sheets to fluidly flow off her body as she coaxed the boy into her arms, cradling him against her bosom. Soft hushes came from her as one hand held him firmly, another rushing through his hair in a soothing manner. "Hush, my boy," she whispered, voice low and calm as if to quell an angered beast. "I know it hurts, my dear boy. I know. I cannot bear to see you in such pain. My precious, sweet starlight. No more tears. They should not be shed on past thoughts. What do you need?" Her voice trailed off as her eyes glinted like ruby red diamonds in the low light. "What will quell you, my love?"

@☪️♛ Anzhelika Sekhmet It was late in the night, or what some would consider early in the morning. Some time at 3 in the morning, as usual, that San woke himself up with a banshee-like howl of a scream. It was surprising that he had any vocal chords left after so many of these nights. The shrill petered off to quiet sobbing, head in his hands, sweat-stained sheets pooled at his waist as he trembled in his own arms. Nightmares haunted him night after night for god knows how many years. They were a bit difficult to describe; everything and yet nothing happened in them. Filled with the screams of the damned, but in a void. Wailed of how they wanted to just move on, hissed about how they wished he'd come back, rambled at unnervingly fast paces about how they wanted to kill him again to get him back.

San sat there for about an hour after, frantically murmuring and incoherently humming to himself, his eyes glazed over a ghoulish grey-white – a stark contrast to the red they'd usually glow. He slowly made his way to Anzh's room, like clockwork. He stood in the doorway and stared at her for a few moments.

"Why did you bring me back?!" San's voice was deep and raspy, like a demon, as he yelled across the room at her, but his neck snapped his head in one direction, which made his shoulders shoot up, and he rolled his head to get the crick out of his neck, eyes slowly fading back to their red from the icy grey they had been.

His shoulders slumped and he was crying again, tears re-staining his cheeks. Voice hoarse, this time, he sniffled, "Mommy, I'm scared..."