Ciar Bargest

The barn is dusty, making Ciar sneeze, wrinkling his nose. Being corporal was such a hassle, unless it was for this. The woman who led him in looks up at him with those large, round, cow-like eyes. She shyly lifts Ciar's clawed hand to her cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his calloused palm. What was her name? Bridgette? Meredith? Something boring he cannot be bothered to remember. Names don't matter, really. He doesn't need them. Cair leans in, cupping her rough, weather-worn cheeks. "You look so beautiful, little one," He murmurs, leaning in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. Slow, slow and gentle. He reminds himself. This particular one required him to be sweet and kind. He pushes down the urge to retch at the thought, instead focusing on the taste of her: earthy, like the ground she makes her living on. He slides his hands down to her thighs, picking her up easily. Humans were light, after all. Ciar pushes her up against a post, breaking the kiss. "Mm... Do you want this, darling? Want me to show you how a man feels?" He asks, peppering light kisses down her freckled neck. Her scent of dirt and grime makes his head hurt, an ache forming behind his eyes. One would think that after eons of smelling brimstone and fire, Ciar would be used to disgusting smells. Perhaps it was only human scents he still found revolting. "Ciar-" She gasps, her voice quiet, as if his name were some great secret. "I... I want you." He hums, licking a stripe up her throat, tasting dust. He moves them, settling her down on the hay. Easier this way. Ciar slowly unbuttons her dress, kissing and nipping at her skin. He can pretend to be a patient lover, even if all his instincts are screaming at him to rip apart her flesh, to feel the wet crimson underneath his claws, to smell iron and pain instead of wet earth. The woman whines as he lavishes attention to her small breasts, thumbing them softly and nibbling on the hard buds. "Ciar-" He shifts, peeling off his tunic and unlacing his trousers. His cock springs free, leaking precum down onto her stomach. He's large, thick, and he smirks when her eyes widen. "Don't worry, darling one." Ciar smiles roguishly at her, pressing the tip to her entrance, sliding in slowly. "Good girl, taking it so well." He coos, leaning down to nuzzle at their neck. Playing the part of the good boy, the sweet dogman, a puppy for their pleasure. If only they knew... "Ciar- Ciar it hurts!" She cries out, tears starting to leak down her cheeks, leaving streaks in the dirt on her face. "Shush, shush, darling," He leans down, pressing a little kiss to her forehead. "It'll feel good soon. I promise." Ciar croons out, soft and gentle. He rocks his hips slowly, but hard- making sure they feel every inch. She grabs at his biceps, sobbing yet mewling so sweetly. He carefully begins moving faster, slamming his hips into her mound, a growl escaping him, a deep, low sound that reverberates through her body. His grin turns feral, his eyes beginning to smoke as he enjoys the wet slide of her cunt, his copious amounts of precum making it easier to fuck her deeper. Ciar lifts up her legs, moving her knees to hook over his shoulders. The woman screams, but it's in pleasure this time. Good, she has to enjoy herself. Ciar can taste it, sweet, yet tart. Like a lemon doused in sugar. He licks his lips, moving faster. "Yes, yes, give it to me, little one," He growls, his voice taking on a darker timbre, the sound of many voices leaving his throat- dark, cruel whispers underlying his words. He watches her, her skin taking on a sickly pallor, her eyes glazing over, her voice fading as he continues to rut into her. He doesn't have to do this now, he doesn't have to take her soul just yet, but he's bored of this one. It's not long until her arms fall, her head lolling to the side, her body shriveling up as he breathes it in, snapping ferally at the air, at the steamy light leaking from her orifices. He pushes his hair out of his red eyes, pulling out of the now corpse. Ciar stands, breathing in the last vestiges of her soul, resisting the urge to howl. He licks his chops, still able to taste her sorrow on his teeth. The corpse is deflated-looking, like a empty sack. It always does after he chooses to reap. Father won't be upset if I eat one or two. I must keep my strength up, after all. Ciar thinks, standing and stretching. Such is a Hellhound's purpose. Onto the next town. Ciar steps out of the barn, his hands leaving scorching prints on the wooden doors, like claws. A hint of his true nature. He walks down the road, the moonlight shining down on his shadowless form. It's only a few minutes before he spots a weary traveler, trudging along the road. He steps closer, clasping his hands behind his back. "Hello, stranger. Are you lost?" He asks, keeping his voice flat but polite. When the wanderer looks up at him, Ciar feels what substitutes for a heart in his chest skip a beat. Delicious. A pure soul, shining brighter than the moonlight. He resists the urge to growl, to wag his tail in twisted joy. "May I guide you to the next town over?" Ciar raises a hand, pushing back a lock of their hair out of their face. "I swear no harm shall befall you on the trip." But after? Oh, but after...