The final shreds of Basco's humanoid guise finally evaporate, black flames licking away the humanlike face. His mouth hangs slack, and his tongue, such as it is, lolls loosely against the close-set cage of his teeth. Long and thin as they are, more like the teeth of a comb or rake than fangs for tearing or biting, Basco can let his jaw hang slack and yet barely open a gap between their points.
The monster rubs the smooth shafts of these spiny, deadly things against Joe's throat and collarbones. Only the tips are sharp; the outside surfaces are like smoothed ivory, and so close set together, so as to be almost one solid, ribbed surface of enamel, they're possibly the softest part of his body.
The irony most definitely does not escape him.
Joe may not know that Basco's jaw unhinges, giving plenty of room for such apparently impractically long teeth to become quite effective indeed. Joe probably doesn't know that Basco could cut a hole through his ribcage as easily as Joe could core an apple. But Basco knows that Joe *does* understand pain - even if he doesn't care about the physical sort anymore.
"Mmm." He breathes out; hot breath filtering between cool teeth, tracing it all gently across the mostly unbroken skin of Joe's upper chest. Basco removes his hand from Joe's throat, raising his crouched posture enough to give his prisoner some literal and figurative breathing room. He drags an appreciative look up and down Joe's body, taking everything in.
Basco takes Joe's hand in his own, the one clutching his chain. He strokes his teeth across Joe's knuckles, again with the soft cool-hot caress. Then he takes the chain in his own hand and tugs, guiding Joe's hand towards his own cock.
"Do you want me?" he asks. The question and the tone in which he asks it is a mockery of the good and right contexts in which the invitation is appropriate.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-05-17 04:15 pm (UTC)The monster rubs the smooth shafts of these spiny, deadly things against Joe's throat and collarbones. Only the tips are sharp; the outside surfaces are like smoothed ivory, and so close set together, so as to be almost one solid, ribbed surface of enamel, they're possibly the softest part of his body.
The irony most definitely does not escape him.
Joe may not know that Basco's jaw unhinges, giving plenty of room for such apparently impractically long teeth to become quite effective indeed. Joe probably doesn't know that Basco could cut a hole through his ribcage as easily as Joe could core an apple. But Basco knows that Joe *does* understand pain - even if he doesn't care about the physical sort anymore.
"Mmm." He breathes out; hot breath filtering between cool teeth, tracing it all gently across the mostly unbroken skin of Joe's upper chest. Basco removes his hand from Joe's throat, raising his crouched posture enough to give his prisoner some literal and figurative breathing room. He drags an appreciative look up and down Joe's body, taking everything in.
Basco takes Joe's hand in his own, the one clutching his chain. He strokes his teeth across Joe's knuckles, again with the soft cool-hot caress. Then he takes the chain in his own hand and tugs, guiding Joe's hand towards his own cock.
"Do you want me?" he asks. The question and the tone in which he asks it is a mockery of the good and right contexts in which the invitation is appropriate.