#lycanking

     Lucifer wanted to die. Not quite literally, but he is bored as hell. Leave it to Maze to host a boring party. As of late she had been horrid channeling his inner demon. Her energy once focused on making the best damned drinks Lux could offer had now turned to what she could do for her little doctor. There was a time when Lidia would writhe and wriggle above him, show him how flexible hot yoga made her be and all the kind of naughty, dirty little fantasies a woman wearing glasses could and can do–a deal they made. Now his therapist was fucking his subordinate and their little parties thrown every month on the thirteenth was becoming old.

     He noticed quickly it was the humans whom got trashed instantly; Maze’s talents for fire breathing drinks no doubt the cause, but these people were simply too vanilla for his tastes and often left him feeling more limp than he had before.

     What he wouldn’t give to have something suddenly come down on the building and catch it on fire. To burn everything and everyone alive ending whatever lame conversations or stupid middle aged crisis jokes are currently muttered… Imagine if the liquor they are drinking is the very substance that combustion turns everyone into the human torch. Wouldn’t that be funny? His establishment on fire and he would be the only being to walk out unscathed past the flames of hell.

     I’m Lucifer Morningstar he would tell the 6am camera crew who would stay late over the scene to film.

     It allowed a tiny smirk

     However his imagination shattered the moment he turned from all the laughter and looked over the balcony. He innocently thought there would be more humans to snort at or possibly seduce into his bed, but it left him the moment he saw her.

     She was alone, always alone, looking quite politely bored all by herself. Her long legs are bare, exposed all the way to her thighs where a band of red covered the rest all the way up to her neck. It was a modest dress, he could observe the rest of it once his eyes left her legs, but she wore it so excruciatingly sexy. It was dangerous what Marlowe could do to him. Doubly so when his imagination took control again and all he could think were those milky thighs wrapped around his waist and damnit! He thinks, aggressively sighing at the pressure in his pants. But he would act cool. He must remain in control for she knew how to coax his beast.

Logic kept him safe in their distance, a whole other wall of the building away, yet the Devil of him said forget it. And before she could even dare to blink, Lucifer was there sitting down next to her with a smile on his face and whiskey in hand.

               “Marlowe” he whispered nearly hissing at the delicious pain he felt.

     There is so much he wants to do, could do to her! His mind already wandering far off from playing host and now all he wanted to do was throw Marlowe on to the table and shake the foundations of the club until everyone fled assuming an earthquake has struck. He fancied her voice, how seductive and rough it could be and oh–she probably would sing if they fucked.

     Lucifer has his hand on her thigh, his thumb trailing melodic circles knowing she is fully aware of his presence. She probably smelt his aftershave, a spicy blend which melted against sweet tobacco and whiskey for he could smell all of nature on her and that tantalizing rose scent she probably bathed in. He wants her so damn bad and it’s killing him! If he hadn’t wished to die earlier and lived–he was so now and–it is all her damn bloody fault!

     He was impatient.

the gym at the local highschool behind where i live is an actual gym lmaooo

                  ❝                 go ahead  ;  give me the worst pickup line y’know. if y’give me somethin’ completely left field  ;  free drinks. shoot. ❞

        she’s lounging back across the man’s couch. fingertips wrap against glass containing alcohol tipping back. she’s nestled herself within blankets found variously strung across the house. wynter went as far to rifle through draws pulling out sweatpants and tank. clothing once clung against nimble frame lays across the floor. feet tucked beneath, chopsticks shuffle through tiny chinese take out box as wynter awaits his arrival. the young brunette easily scaled the length of marlowe’s how to hop through a window. when she finally hears movement, unexpected company head cants slight and she calls out. 

                                                         ❝                         hey  ;  where’s y’soy sauce! ❞

She leaves the diner later than she thought she would, food boxed and bagged to be taken home (home? not home, just the place they’re staying) to her brother. Heads back through streets that are only half-familiar, streets that will never be home (they’re leaving, soon - it’s not far enough east and too far south, and there are other wolves here, she can smell them, can see their tracks sometimes). Once she might not have cared, might have stayed anyway, but she’s an alpha of a pack of two, she doesn’t have the numbers or the will for land disputes, won’t willingly give up the status passed down from her mother. Their only option is to move, to keep moving, to head northeast again...she doesn’t know how far. (Maybe she’ll know when she gets there.)

So wrapped up in these thoughts, she almost - almost - let her ever-present guard drop just a little, almost missed the tell-tale scent of wolf somewhere behind. Followed? Or just coincidence? She doesn’t know, knows only that she can’t lead back to Derek (she’s an Alpha, she’s strong, if she runs she’ll be chased, if she runs she’ll be a coward -  she can’t run.)