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(( biggrin So when do you wanna timeskip? Lawlz))

Reine's smile was reeking of sinful pleasure as she watched him come nearer, her eyes twinkling.

"Oh, it's not that important at all," she cooed, her tone mocking comfort. "After all, with what we're going to do, boxers or trunks - I doubt either one would stay on for very long."

Her murderous lust had been sated for the time being. Now that her stomach was full, she craved to be full in a different way.

Chris would suffice. She hoped.

Eh, he was a sinner, she reminded himself. He was naturally... stronger than others.

Maybe after the hot tub we'll see how good he can be with those knives...

She resisted the urge to lick her lips. They parted slightly.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

((That was lovely~<3))

Reine sighed in satisfaction that they were actually getting somewhere, and allowed her top to come off without complaint, her fingers sliding upwards along Chris' arms and shoulders, mapping out the warm, wet skin with curious, sensual fingers.

Humans were a naturally disgusting, revolting race. Their very flesh - even that of a newborn's - reeked of decay, reeked of death.

Because, even right after birth, they began to die. The foolish importance the human race put on purity such as innocence, virginity, and a clean internal body was a massive waste of time; humans could never, ever be pure. Not when the scent of death caught them the instant after leaving the womb.

Demons, however, were entirely different. They did not age. They did not change naturally. Once they reached their preferred age and appearance, they stayed that way. Forever.

Or, at least, until they were killed. After all, the only way to kill a demon is to murder them.

There was one difference between sinners and regular humans, however, that always succeeded in catching a demon's eye. The scent of death that followed a human naturally was covered up by the death of another - the spilled blood of another human. That scent was unmistakable, luring demons like moth to flame.

She pressed her lips against his neck - almost tauntingly - and lightly licked the skin, teasing with the threat of death.

The possibility that a blade could be drawn at any instant made this encounter all the more appealing as she pressed her face into the crook of his throat- where neck meets shoulder.

Human. That was the scent that lingered right beneath the scent. But at the same time, a different scent. The scent that was born the instant he stripped life from another of his race.

The scent of steel. Of death. Chris' entirety was almost as intoxicating as she was.

God, she needed to get out more.

Purring lightly, she nuzzled his throat, and snuck her arms around the back of his waist.

((Whenever. razz ))

((Prepare for a LONG timeskip. xD))

The creeping dawn fell upon a silent house, the morning dew twinkling on the lush green grass and sparkling pools of water.

A great blue tiger sat on the back patio, sitting straight and alertly, watching the dawn as its tail curled, moving slowly and hypnotically.

As the sun fully revealed itself, the tiger silently turned and entered back into the house through the wide glass sliding doors, padding silently down the hall and up the velvet-red carpeted staircase to the master bedroom and slipping through the barely-opened door.

Then, waltzing across the black carpet to the massive bed - bigger than a king - almost prancing on the balls of her feet with a natural, uncanny elegance - the tiger was now in human form, and very, very satisfied.

The bed, with a large, engraved headboard and posts supporting curtains of dark blue silken, translucent cloth that completely hid the bed from view when pulled together. The blankets itself were also dark blue, but beautifully woven and so very, very soft. The pillows were lush, some with silver, black, and dark blue embroidery.

It really wasn't too hard on the eye at all. In fact, the mass of dark colors with metallic undertones were relaxing and promoting a feeling of safety and comfort. Almost enticing whoever inside to be lulled into a false sense of security.

Smirking, Reine padded across the room, her heels never touching the floor as she waltzed over to the bed, the curtains already open on one side.

Purring, and pulling the satin, dark blue robe - embroidered with a silver dragon on the bottom left half and a phoenix on the top right - a little more tightly around her nude frame, she slipped over to the side of the bed that was still occupied, and played with a lock of the occupier's hair.

"Mmmm, good morning," she purred, nuzzling his face a little with a smirk, her voice playful, but mocking. "Would you like to go for a dip before we go for each other's throats?"

Chris slept restfully, dreaming. A hand slid lightly over his chest, teasing. "A little sleepy?" A hushed giggle.

Chloe...

He had woken only as Reine's slight movement carried her off the bed to wherever she was going to be and then once again once she twirled a lock of his dark hair, nuzzling her face against his cheek. "Mornin'," he murmured sleepily. His hand slid reluctantly across the smooth, soft dark blue comforter and threw them back, twisting in the bed to sit on the edge, head in hands, fingers massaging his temples free of the morning's grogginess.

Her words finally registered in his ears. He thought about it for a moment and stood up, absently reaching for his pants. "Perhaps..." he said, softly. He was still lost to the morning. He never was an early riser.

He reached behind Reine for his shirt but brought his hand back without it, pressing a knife to the demon's spinal column. The morning haze wore off him completely and he sunk the knife through her skin. Or at least tried; he underestimated the thickness of that soft, soft skin. Maybe something to do with being a shape shifting succubus.

She was ready for anything he had now, though. He jumped back, out of her reach, holding the blade in his right hand. The metal was dripping a tar-like string of almost black liquid. It had pierced her after all.

But too shallow. He waited for her next move, for an opening. He couldn't take another stab at her after that first one. She was far too clever.

((Aw. I'm kind of sad to ruin their fun XD))

Chris parted his lips slightly, letting a small exhalation of air escape, one puff at a time. He didn't have incredible regenerative abilites as Reine did; he would need to be careful. He chose not to respond to her jeers, instead watching her footing. Running would be uncomfortable for her, no matter how used to them she would be. The fact that her human heels had been elongated with a cobbler's masterpiece was testimony enough to that.

Handy to know in case she proved too much for him and he needed to run away. Not that she couldn't kick them off or change shape, but a split-second advantage was better than none.

He felt the weight four or five other knives hidden in various, discreet compartments of his jeans. If she could smell them, why wouldn't she take them out? Perhaps she was slightly arrogant. Perhaps she had reason to be. The rest of his knives where in his blue shirt; his firearm in his leather jacket.

He regretted not being able to dress completely, but that would be odd if he had planned "to go for a dip" later anyway. He didn't worry about a demon going for his weapons to use them against him. He did worry about this demon thinking it was sexy to kill him with his own gun.

He waited for her move as seconds ticked by, making him more and more nervous with the passing time.

Is she going to make the next move? Should I take another stab at her? Or sweep the ground and book it?

Hell no, my Glock's still here.

Well, then...?!

((You got a song stuck in my head rofl
"With a flick of the wrist in just a flash you'll land a prince with a ton of cash..."

Shrek II. Curses!))

Chris batted it away with his knife at he same time as he jerked his upper torso away, spun from her blue blade, and threw two knives towards her stomach as he snapped back to facing her. He ducked again and swept the ground where her feet were, trying to knock her over in those precious sapphire heels, like a thin, unstable stand holding an ancient family relic or bust.

He needed to get to his jacket and his Glock. If she had left his knives, perhaps she had left his gun as well. Perhapses sucked, and he certainly didn't trust them with his life. But he wasn't going to leave without looking, that was for sure.

The sinner straightened up from the sweep, tucking his leg solidly underneath his shoulders once more. Perfect balance; perfect stance. He could fight like this all day with any two or three normal inmates. He could probably take on Big Hen as well, who must've weighed four hundred plus pounds on a good day.

Humans weren't the only people he had fought; demons had gone down before as well. "You called me a sinner," Chris spoke, unfamiliar with the term. "Aren't we all?" A simple tactic as his wouldn't incapacitate a demon. He knew she was still alive to answer him.

Yet he failed to realize the distinction that a capital letter could make.

((I probably won't be posting much this weekend; Mom's signed me up for some baby sitting for her friends' sons :/

So, I'll try to post on Monday if I get back early smile ))

Chris didn't enjoy her taunting. He kept well away from the window, feeling as though a red hole was burning itself in his peripheral vision where his leather jacket lay in a heap on the floor, underneath his shirts. He stooped down while Reine was busy and shook it out, then slipped his arms through it without worrying overly much about the shirts. There was no reassuring weight in the pockets though.

Where is it?

He almost didn't hear Reine's last words. "I've wondered why," he said softly. I'd always figured because I'd already seen Hell when Chloe died. He felt the melodrama of it, but wouldn't take back the thought even if he had said it aloud. It felt like Hell to him. It still does, sometimes.

"Have you cursed me somehow? Or am I supposed to be glad for this." He had an idea why he was able to see them at all. He knew why they called him "sinner". He had known some of the inmates who could see them as well, even if they had pretended not to, as he had. But he knew. And they knew he knew and could see the things too.

But what made them so alike? Chris had committed grand theft auto before; so they had as well. And murder. The filter let the possibilities dwindle.

Murder, then. At least murder. Or some heinous act committed by one human to another.

"Murderer, then." The words felt strange and heavy on his tongue. He had never really considered himself a murderer, never thought of himself on equal terms with the inmates. Never realized that they were the same after all.

"Is that it? Murder?" His quest for the gun was temporarily forgotten in the search for an answer.