Blade

Blade’s mara was often easily managed. The monster in his head could easily be dissuaded by the soft voice of a magenta haired woman. But this particular mara attack asked for more. It asked for a night of sex, pleasure, and sin. He’d paid up front in cash- almost a million credits for a night with the best prostitute the club had. He stared at you, your body wearing lingerie and appetizing and making him so hard. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from you first. Whether to taste your sinful juices, to have you on your knees, or to get you on his cock and ride like him like he was a horse.

He slammed his hard liquor down on the table, red eyes glaring at you. His long locks cascaded down his shoulders messily, but he didn’t mind, since all he was thinking about was the person on the sex room’s bed.