That ****ing bounty hunter. Echthulemnak's thoughts were as angry as his face, and his face would have terrified a wild boar. That god-****ed, mother-****ing, son-of-a-***** bounty hunter! He's a mortal, for the gods' sake! How the **** does he trump me every ****ing time?!

He had picked a dark alley to change to his true form in, then returned to his human form. Unfortunately, he'd lost all but one of his Falcons and his knife when that grenade hit him; now, he was heading toward The Dark - his personal bar of choice when he was seriously pissed off.

As he approached, a man smoking a cigarette under a dripping awning stared at him; in a blur of motion, the man was slammed up agains the wall, his throat pinned by Echthulemnak's right hand and the rest of him struggling. Echthulemnak watched the man die, taking a grim satisfaction that brought a sadistic grin to his face and a mad glint to his eyes as he began searching the man; he found about three hundred dollars on the corpse, an excellent sum of money for buying some vodka. He dropped the corpse and headed inside The Dark, getting past the guard easily since he was easily recognized as one of the highest-paying regulars in the club's history.

The club was as packed and noisy as usual, the darkened light welcomed by his sensitive eyes, and he immediately made his way to the back of the room, where the bar was located; the bartender must have seen the look on his face, for he went pale and got out three large bottles of his richest vodka. Echthulemnak reverted to his true form and sat down, immediately downing the three bottles in less than a minute. He ordered over a dozen more before his mood began to brighten a bit. As the familiar buzz began to hit him, he realized that someone was talking to him...

Someone might have been talking to him but it wasn't Hawthorne, not now anyway, she sat a few bar stools down, wings with the edges jagged extended from her shoulder blades. Eyes of the same hue, a pale and unwelcoming violet, stared into the mirror that lined the wall behind the bar watching the people, if you could call them that. Lately she had been an attraction for trouble, that beautiful body raped, burned, and her rent had gone up some too. Why shouldn't she have a drink ... or two ... or three ... hell let's try twenty shots of good ol' Jack.

"Dance with me." These three words were whispered to a man as she walked past him. She didn't remember getting up. However, chances were good she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, but that was probably for the best right?

It turned out to be a hooker looking for a few bucks; apparently, she catered to all species. Good, something to relieve my frustration - temporarily, at least. She was asking him if he wanted a good bj, but he was thinking of something a little rougher; he asked her what she'd do for $200, and she said she'd do anything he wanted for as long as he wanted for $200. He paid the bartender to let him use one of the back rooms; the bartender looked at first like he was about to object, but one look from Echthulemnak and he shut up. He headed to the back room with his new plaything...

(whatever.)

One long slender leg stretched across the prostitute's path and therefore was followed with a thud as whore met floor. Hawthorne had afterall spoken to the man, attention stolen from her was never something to be taken lightly. Those violet eyes watched him, ignoring the cursing woman who was struggling to get to her feet. Stilettos were never meant for keeping good balance.

Irritated and slightly drunk, Echthulemnak didn't realize that someone had tripped the woman; instead, he cursed violently under his breath and said, "I'm offering you good money, whore, so pick up your feet!" He yanked her back onto her feet and was just about to lead the hooker on when he noticed someone staring at them. "Got a problem?"

"Yes." She paused and glanced to the whore, who at the moment looked dazed ... or maybe just frightened. Shouldn't play with fire little girl, could get burned. Hawthorne smiled then looked back to the demon. "I don't think she wants your money anymore."

She leaned into him, there was a hint of caution to her movements, but the shots of Jack Daniels had drowned most of it. Those lips caressed his neck as she whispered against his skin. "Of course I don't want it either ..." Her violet eyes watched the girl's face as she bit his skin gently, not enough to draw blood but enough to get the point across.

"Fine." He took his money back roughly and shoved the whore aside. "Get out of here, whore. The whore's arms started to sprout thick, soft gray hairs and she snarled, but she took off. He looked back to the girl, wondering why she was willing to screw someone who was a totally different species. "Got a name? Can't very well call you whore if I'm not paying you." He wrapped his right arm around her middle and pulled her to him roughly; he was pissed off, drunk as hell and horny enough to get in bed with just about anything at the moment.

"Hawthorne." Even drunk she wouldn't give him her last name, common sense. Not that he would have cared either way. His right arm held her to him and she felt his need through the fabric of his pants and her skirt. Breathe, she reminded herself. "And yours?"

"You couldn't pronounce it," he said. "But my human name - one of my human names - is Johnathan." He licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come; he had no idea how good she would be in bed, but he could guess - right or wrong, he could guess. And he could just imagine...

He was probably right, her half-brother was a demon and she couldn't pronounce his real name either. Hawthorne watched him lick his lips and hesitantly she closed the space between the two of them to kiss him. It was a chaste kiss, so light and teasing at first. She took his hand, guiding it up her inner thigh as she licked his lips, tasting him. The point was to encourage him to take her, though not that he needed much more of it.

With no hesitation after the kiss, he quickly led her into the back room; he began sticking his hands all over her, putting them any place that he could reach (which was just about everywhere) and running kisses up and down her breasts...

((How far are we allowed to go with this? And should we put a warning on here?))

She gasped as if she was drowning in his caresses. Clothes, she noticed, are such damn things, especially when it comes to the bedroom, she wanted to feel his kisses against her naked skin. Overwelming as they were already she still wanted more. Hawthorne pulled her shirt over her head before tossing it to the floor, her bra remained but the clasp was in front and it was only seconds before that was removed as well.

(well ... we should continue this sometime soon in pm if we're gunna go any further)

((LOL Okay...up to you, then...do you want to continue, or should I post as though we had sex and leave it at that?))

Echthulemnak began removing the rest of Hawthorne's clothes; first her outer clothes fell from the bed, and then her socks and underwear. Finally, he unsnapped the clasp and removed her bra. He continued to kiss and fondle her bare flesh...