april
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2006
- Messages
- 1,273
- Points
- 63
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT6EGrcDm/
Damon
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTMRHAeSP/
Amethyst
The ballroom was alive with golden light and the hum of strings and laughter. A thousand candles burned in crystal chandeliers overhead, their flames mirrored in the polished marble floors. Silks and velvet's swirled in a kaleidoscope of jewel tones and masked figures spun and laughed, their adorned fans fluttering like the wings of exotic birds.
And yet, amid the extravagant masquerade, she stood apart.
Amethyst had refused to wear a mask. Her willfullness was whispered about behind gloved hands, her name spoken like a scandal. She stood near the edge of the ballroom in a gown of deep violet silk that bared her slender shoulders and hugged the curve of her waist before spilling into rich, sweeping folds. Candlelight caught in her hair and eyes, making her seem almost unreal. She was stunning, yes, but more than that, she was visible, unhidden, while every other face was obscured.
It was the defiance that drew him.
Count Damon did not announce himself. He never needed to. His presence swept through the ballroom like a cold wind extinguishing candles. Even masked, people felt it and stepped aside, parting instinctively.
He was tall, towering over most men, with a lean, predatory frame that moved with lethal grace. His skin was pale as moonlight, his features carved and elegant, almost too beautiful to be mortal. Rakish black hair fell across his brow, emphasizing the sharpness of his cheekbones and the cruel perfection of his mouth.
But it was his eyes that marked him as something more. So dark, they were almost black, they shimmered faintly like a hidden galaxy. When they found Amethyst, they fixed on her as though she were prey.
He crossed the ballroom in silence, and the musicians faltered for half a beat under the weight of his focus. When he reached her, he did not bow or introduce himself. He simply extended his hand and spoke in a voice smooth as silk and edged with command.
"Dance with me."
It was not a request.
Amethysts breath caught but her chin lifted. She did not curtsy, did not shy away. "You presume much, my lord."
A faint, dangerous smile curved his lips. "And you hide nothing, little rebel. No mask. No lies. You dare to stand here uncovered, and now you would deny me?" His fingers closed around her wrist before she could protest further. "Come."
The musicians shifted seamlessly into a waltz as though they had been waiting for his signal. The crowd watched, envious and enthralled, as the unmasked beauty and the infamous count began to turn across the floor.
At first Amethyst felt only his dominance in the dance; his control over every step, his unrelenting strength guiding her. She might as well have been floating in him arms, powerless to resist.
Then she felt it.
A feather-light touch beneath her ribs.
She startled, nearly tripping. Damon's arm tightened instantly around her waist, pulling her flush against him to steady her. His expression never changed, though one dark brow arched slightly, a silent warning.
"My lord," she hissed under her breath, "what was..."
"Smile," he interrupted smoothly, the word like dripping honey across steel. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "Let them think I've enchanted you."
His hand shifted, fingers sliding along the narrow curve of her waist...and then gentle strokes. A slow, teasing flutter beneath the fabric of her gown, hidden where no eyes could see.
Amethyst gasped, biting back a burst of laughter. Her body jerked involuntarily, and Damon's hand clamped harder, holding her fast.
"Thats it," he murmured, voice darkly pleased. "Struggle all you wish, little rebel. No one will see. No one will help you."
"S-Stop," she begged softly, her forced smile strained at the corners. "Please, I cant..."
"You can." His tone left no room for doubt. "You will dance. You will laugh for me, and only me. And you will not give us away."
His fingers moved in an infuriating pattern now, tracing up and down the sensitive lines of her ribs, hidden beneath the folds of her dress, teasing just under her arm with subtle precision. Amethysts legs weakened, her giggles bubbling up against her will. She forced them into something that looked like joy, even as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
No one watching could see the truth; that each step, each turn, was a battle not to collapse beneath his touch.
As the final note of the waltz faded, Amethyst sagged in his arms, breathless and trembling. Surely now, surely he would release her.
But Damon only smiled faintly, his dimples appearing for the first time.
"Another," he said, and before she could protest, he spun her directly into the opening steps of the next dance.
"No!" She gasped, panic threading through her voice. "Please, I..."
"Yes." The single word was a dark caress.
His fingers became bolder. As he twirled her, they slid lower, along the sensitive hollow of her lower back, then darted wickedly to the small of her waist. Every movement of the dance became an excuse to explore her body.
She tried to twist away, but each attempt to escape brought her directly back into his grip.
"Keep smiling," Damon commanded, his voice pitched so low only she could hear. "Do you want them to see how undone you are? Do you want them to know I'm making you laugh like a wanton little thing beneath all this silk?"
Her cheeks burn crimson. She clung to him desperately, giggling helplessly as his fingers squeezed at her ribs, spidered up her sides, then teased the delicate spot just beneath her shoulder blade.
Each stroke sent a jolt of sensation through her body, sharp and dizzying. It was laughter, yes, but beneath the laughter was something warmer, heavier. A slow, molten heat gathering low in her belly.
And deeper still, she felt it; a strange intangible pull. As though something essential inside her was flowing outward, pouring into his waiting hands. It was terrifying, and intoxicating.
"Breathe for me," he whispered against her temple. "Give me every last gasp. Every giggle. Every little plea."
By the time the second dance ended, Amethysts legs were shaking, her breath ragged. She tried to curtsy, to flee, but Damon's arm locked around her like iron.
"One more," he said. There was no negotiation, no escape.
The crowd roared its approval as they spun into the third waltz. The tempo was faster now, the steps more intricate, forcing Amethyst to cling tightly to him or stumble.
He twirled her in dizzying circles, sliding boldly beneath the folds of her skirts to torment her sensitive hips. As he spun her back, his other hand skimmed along her ribs, squeezing and teasing in maddening rhythms.
She laughed helplessly, the sound bubbling past her lips no matter how hard she tried to stifle it. From the outside, it looked like pure joy, like a young woman delighted by her powerful partner. But inside, she was unraveling, her body wracked with uncontrollable mirth and arousal.
"That's it," Damon purred, his voice dark and rich, vibrating through her bones. "Give it over. Louder."
"No, I can't!" She gasped, twisting, laughter rising.
"Yes. Laugh for me, little rebel. I'm starving for it." His fingertips skittered against the hollow of her back, finding every weak spot with unerring diligence. "Every sound you make belongs to me."
Her knees buckled and he caught her easily, spinning her into a dip so deep, she thought she'd fall. His lips hovered just above hers, his eyes blazing like twin black stars.
"Your name." He demanded.
"Amethyst." She managed before laughing so loudly, she was sure someone would notice something terribly amiss.
Damon seemed completely unbothered except for the satisfied smirk adorning his mouth. "Do you know what you are, Amethyst?" He murmured, his tone intimate and dangerous. "You are a feast laid before me. And I will savor every single drop of your laughter."
And he was true to his word. Her body trembled, her laughter spilling out like wine as he drank her in; coveting her essence, stealing her energy. She didn't understand what he was doing to her, only that she felt both weakened and wildly alive, every nerve lit with fire.
As the final notes of the third dance rang through the hall, Damon pulled her upright. She slumped against him, spent and breathless, her face flushed and damp.
The crowd saw only a woman swept away by passion. None of them realized they had witnessed a predator feeding, his hunger sharpened, his appetite far from sated.
Damon didn't bow. He merely studied her with a slow, dark smile, his grip still firm against her.
"You'll do." He said simply, his voice rich with possession.
Amethyst blinked, dazed. "What?"
"You," he clarified, leaning closer so only she could hear. "will be mine."
Before she could protest, he swept her off the floor, tucking her hand against his side as if it had always belonged there. The crowd parted in silence, heads bowing instinctively as Damon passed. Amethyst stumbled beside him, still trembling from the strange, sensual euphoria he had drawn from her laughter.
When they reached her parents, Damon did not greet them. He didn't slow or soften.
"She'll do." He said solidly.
Her father stiffened. "I...beg your pardon, my lord."
Damon's black eyes glimmered like storm clouds. "Your daughter will be my wife. The match is decided."
Amethyst gasped, trying to pull back but he held her tightly to him. He bent his head, his whisper a dark caress against her neck.
"You've already given me your laughter, my little rebel. Don't pretend you have a choice."
When he straightened, his expression was cool and unreadable. "Announce it to your guests," he commanded. "Tonight."
And before anyone could speak, he turned, leading Amethyst away, his coat swirling like shadow. The crowd watched in stunned silence as she disappeared into the darkness at his side; already claimed, body and soul.
Damon
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTMRHAeSP/
Amethyst
The ballroom was alive with golden light and the hum of strings and laughter. A thousand candles burned in crystal chandeliers overhead, their flames mirrored in the polished marble floors. Silks and velvet's swirled in a kaleidoscope of jewel tones and masked figures spun and laughed, their adorned fans fluttering like the wings of exotic birds.
And yet, amid the extravagant masquerade, she stood apart.
Amethyst had refused to wear a mask. Her willfullness was whispered about behind gloved hands, her name spoken like a scandal. She stood near the edge of the ballroom in a gown of deep violet silk that bared her slender shoulders and hugged the curve of her waist before spilling into rich, sweeping folds. Candlelight caught in her hair and eyes, making her seem almost unreal. She was stunning, yes, but more than that, she was visible, unhidden, while every other face was obscured.
It was the defiance that drew him.
Count Damon did not announce himself. He never needed to. His presence swept through the ballroom like a cold wind extinguishing candles. Even masked, people felt it and stepped aside, parting instinctively.
He was tall, towering over most men, with a lean, predatory frame that moved with lethal grace. His skin was pale as moonlight, his features carved and elegant, almost too beautiful to be mortal. Rakish black hair fell across his brow, emphasizing the sharpness of his cheekbones and the cruel perfection of his mouth.
But it was his eyes that marked him as something more. So dark, they were almost black, they shimmered faintly like a hidden galaxy. When they found Amethyst, they fixed on her as though she were prey.
He crossed the ballroom in silence, and the musicians faltered for half a beat under the weight of his focus. When he reached her, he did not bow or introduce himself. He simply extended his hand and spoke in a voice smooth as silk and edged with command.
"Dance with me."
It was not a request.
Amethysts breath caught but her chin lifted. She did not curtsy, did not shy away. "You presume much, my lord."
A faint, dangerous smile curved his lips. "And you hide nothing, little rebel. No mask. No lies. You dare to stand here uncovered, and now you would deny me?" His fingers closed around her wrist before she could protest further. "Come."
The musicians shifted seamlessly into a waltz as though they had been waiting for his signal. The crowd watched, envious and enthralled, as the unmasked beauty and the infamous count began to turn across the floor.
At first Amethyst felt only his dominance in the dance; his control over every step, his unrelenting strength guiding her. She might as well have been floating in him arms, powerless to resist.
Then she felt it.
A feather-light touch beneath her ribs.
She startled, nearly tripping. Damon's arm tightened instantly around her waist, pulling her flush against him to steady her. His expression never changed, though one dark brow arched slightly, a silent warning.
"My lord," she hissed under her breath, "what was..."
"Smile," he interrupted smoothly, the word like dripping honey across steel. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "Let them think I've enchanted you."
His hand shifted, fingers sliding along the narrow curve of her waist...and then gentle strokes. A slow, teasing flutter beneath the fabric of her gown, hidden where no eyes could see.
Amethyst gasped, biting back a burst of laughter. Her body jerked involuntarily, and Damon's hand clamped harder, holding her fast.
"Thats it," he murmured, voice darkly pleased. "Struggle all you wish, little rebel. No one will see. No one will help you."
"S-Stop," she begged softly, her forced smile strained at the corners. "Please, I cant..."
"You can." His tone left no room for doubt. "You will dance. You will laugh for me, and only me. And you will not give us away."
His fingers moved in an infuriating pattern now, tracing up and down the sensitive lines of her ribs, hidden beneath the folds of her dress, teasing just under her arm with subtle precision. Amethysts legs weakened, her giggles bubbling up against her will. She forced them into something that looked like joy, even as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
No one watching could see the truth; that each step, each turn, was a battle not to collapse beneath his touch.
As the final note of the waltz faded, Amethyst sagged in his arms, breathless and trembling. Surely now, surely he would release her.
But Damon only smiled faintly, his dimples appearing for the first time.
"Another," he said, and before she could protest, he spun her directly into the opening steps of the next dance.
"No!" She gasped, panic threading through her voice. "Please, I..."
"Yes." The single word was a dark caress.
His fingers became bolder. As he twirled her, they slid lower, along the sensitive hollow of her lower back, then darted wickedly to the small of her waist. Every movement of the dance became an excuse to explore her body.
She tried to twist away, but each attempt to escape brought her directly back into his grip.
"Keep smiling," Damon commanded, his voice pitched so low only she could hear. "Do you want them to see how undone you are? Do you want them to know I'm making you laugh like a wanton little thing beneath all this silk?"
Her cheeks burn crimson. She clung to him desperately, giggling helplessly as his fingers squeezed at her ribs, spidered up her sides, then teased the delicate spot just beneath her shoulder blade.
Each stroke sent a jolt of sensation through her body, sharp and dizzying. It was laughter, yes, but beneath the laughter was something warmer, heavier. A slow, molten heat gathering low in her belly.
And deeper still, she felt it; a strange intangible pull. As though something essential inside her was flowing outward, pouring into his waiting hands. It was terrifying, and intoxicating.
"Breathe for me," he whispered against her temple. "Give me every last gasp. Every giggle. Every little plea."
By the time the second dance ended, Amethysts legs were shaking, her breath ragged. She tried to curtsy, to flee, but Damon's arm locked around her like iron.
"One more," he said. There was no negotiation, no escape.
The crowd roared its approval as they spun into the third waltz. The tempo was faster now, the steps more intricate, forcing Amethyst to cling tightly to him or stumble.
He twirled her in dizzying circles, sliding boldly beneath the folds of her skirts to torment her sensitive hips. As he spun her back, his other hand skimmed along her ribs, squeezing and teasing in maddening rhythms.
She laughed helplessly, the sound bubbling past her lips no matter how hard she tried to stifle it. From the outside, it looked like pure joy, like a young woman delighted by her powerful partner. But inside, she was unraveling, her body wracked with uncontrollable mirth and arousal.
"That's it," Damon purred, his voice dark and rich, vibrating through her bones. "Give it over. Louder."
"No, I can't!" She gasped, twisting, laughter rising.
"Yes. Laugh for me, little rebel. I'm starving for it." His fingertips skittered against the hollow of her back, finding every weak spot with unerring diligence. "Every sound you make belongs to me."
Her knees buckled and he caught her easily, spinning her into a dip so deep, she thought she'd fall. His lips hovered just above hers, his eyes blazing like twin black stars.
"Your name." He demanded.
"Amethyst." She managed before laughing so loudly, she was sure someone would notice something terribly amiss.
Damon seemed completely unbothered except for the satisfied smirk adorning his mouth. "Do you know what you are, Amethyst?" He murmured, his tone intimate and dangerous. "You are a feast laid before me. And I will savor every single drop of your laughter."
And he was true to his word. Her body trembled, her laughter spilling out like wine as he drank her in; coveting her essence, stealing her energy. She didn't understand what he was doing to her, only that she felt both weakened and wildly alive, every nerve lit with fire.
As the final notes of the third dance rang through the hall, Damon pulled her upright. She slumped against him, spent and breathless, her face flushed and damp.
The crowd saw only a woman swept away by passion. None of them realized they had witnessed a predator feeding, his hunger sharpened, his appetite far from sated.
Damon didn't bow. He merely studied her with a slow, dark smile, his grip still firm against her.
"You'll do." He said simply, his voice rich with possession.
Amethyst blinked, dazed. "What?"
"You," he clarified, leaning closer so only she could hear. "will be mine."
Before she could protest, he swept her off the floor, tucking her hand against his side as if it had always belonged there. The crowd parted in silence, heads bowing instinctively as Damon passed. Amethyst stumbled beside him, still trembling from the strange, sensual euphoria he had drawn from her laughter.
When they reached her parents, Damon did not greet them. He didn't slow or soften.
"She'll do." He said solidly.
Her father stiffened. "I...beg your pardon, my lord."
Damon's black eyes glimmered like storm clouds. "Your daughter will be my wife. The match is decided."
Amethyst gasped, trying to pull back but he held her tightly to him. He bent his head, his whisper a dark caress against her neck.
"You've already given me your laughter, my little rebel. Don't pretend you have a choice."
When he straightened, his expression was cool and unreadable. "Announce it to your guests," he commanded. "Tonight."
And before anyone could speak, he turned, leading Amethyst away, his coat swirling like shadow. The crowd watched in stunned silence as she disappeared into the darkness at his side; already claimed, body and soul.
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