The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
In the office, he had been a little unsure. He had insisted they do things his way so that he could keep them both in check. He'd known that she wasn't going to stay with him, going to make a commitment, and he didn't want people finding out she was there and giving her a hard time or making assumptions about their relationship. For all he had known that night, she would walk out of his office and find herself regretting.
But they weren't in the castle now, and even though he didn't know what her way was, it wouldn't matter. They didn't have to worry. "Your way?" He asked, his own heart beginning to beat faster as he helped pull his shirt off and toss it aside, immediately reaching for hers as well. He leaned in, past her lips to her neck. "Your pace," he agreed. "Just remember I don't have a medic on hand this time."
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 22, 2023 0:58:40 GMT -5
Regan wiggled her arms out of her shirt and tossed it to the floor as if it had wronged her. She gained momentum, hunger taking over though she tried to rein it in. Yes, fire safety was still a pressing concern, but Regan had developed strategies of her own. Less palatable or polite ones, perhaps, but effective nonetheless.
“Then you have to keep a firm hold, Captain,” Regan murmured, eyes now lighting with fire that burned brighter than that in the mantle, “thankfully the one thing it does recognize is a master.” It—as if the hellwolf were something separate and not a creature inextricably linked with her own being. There was a vulnerability in the confession; an acknowledgment of what Warren likely already knew. Regan was not entirely human—not anymore.
The words had him drawing upward again, eyes meeting hers. After the events of the ball he had come to accept that Regan, like Alys Delaney, was likely some kind form of werewolf. The claw marks she'd left on his back the night she returned had only worked to confirm it. Bursting into flames and not burning was one thing, but claws and fangs and glowing eyes and super strength all together did not a simple witch make.
Still, to hear her say a master had him worried, unsure if he could be what she needed him to be. Tonight would be a test, it seemed. Unintentionally, but true nonetheless. Worthiness aside, was he capable of what she asked? The word master didn't sit well with him, but he could be firm. It had worked the first time, and he would make it work this time.
Well, that or be accidentally ripped apart while making love to a beautiful, albeit a little scary, woman. Worst ways to go, of course. "Alright," he said with a nod, and leaned in to kiss her. "What's your pace?"
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 22, 2023 8:25:41 GMT -5
“Faster.”
Regan, whether she realized it or not, was trying to draw out the man buried beneath all the shame, guilt, and regret. The one who could believe he deserved her, who sought more and would demand it. Maybe that man didn’t exist anymore—maybe he never had—but Regan was certain that if anyone could find him, she could. Her proclivity for chaos made her adept and drawing it out of others—though admittedly, Warren was not like any of the others.
Regan dove in. She kissed him with bruising ferocity, nipping at his lip with a touch more bite than necessary.
Faster. It was true that Warren was a thorough man, who liked to take his time. Even in the office, she had rushed him a little. But pleasing her quickly became his goal and if that pace was what she preferred, he would adapt.
Her kiss pushed him a step back, but he quickly recovered. His hands slid down her body, following the lines of her waist until the pants at her hips created an unwanted barrier. His fingers were quick to unfasten them and slip inside the band to push them and whatever she wore beneath them down toward her feet. Once they were gone, he'd lean down and grab her by the legs, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around him just long enough to carry her over to the bed.
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 22, 2023 19:20:33 GMT -5
Regan was panting and kissing him with frenzied fervor. Like any junkie that ever needed a fix, the prospect of being so close to what she craved only made her more desperate for it. She kicked her trousers the rest of the way off before wrapping herself around Warren. A low growl hummed through her body, vibrating in her lips as she kissed Warren back.
He found himself getting caught up in her frenzy, a sense of urgency and need rose into his chest, one that he fought down. He knew that even if he moved faster he still had to be in the one in control. That was a familiar feeling. He was used to authority, even if the rest was somewhat new to him.
Climbing on the bed with her in tow, he placed her down with her head on the pillow and his lips returned to hers. For a few moments his hands moved over her body, trailing every inch they could before switching to his pants, to unfasten the buttons and push them down. He slipped them off and unless she protested, he'd draw in close and press his forehead to hers, watching her eyes as he pressed into her.
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 23, 2023 7:37:59 GMT -5
Regan’s own hold on restraint was tenuous at best. She trembled beneath him with need, eyes crackling with fire to rival that which burned in the hearth. He hands traced the muscular contours of his back and felt for the shadows of the cuts she’d left in his office. It was as her fingers found them that Warren pressed his forehead to hers. Her glowing eyes snapped to his—a frenetic danger dancing and popping like embers of a fire. She hadn’t lost herself yet, no, but a hunger that was driving her quite close to the edge.
Regan’s back arched and a low, rumbling growl settled in her throat as her fangs flexed to brush her bottom lip.
It had only taken once, but already Warren knew to watch for the signs. The claws he would have felt as her fingers touched the spots on his back where she'd dug in last time, but they weren't sharp. As he moved, a much quicker pace than last time as she had requested, he kissed along her jaw and up toward her lips, just narrowly missing the sight of her fangs.
Right hand leaving the thigh he had gripped for leverage, his pace slowed as he brought it up to graze her bottom lip with his thumb, gently pulling it back to reveal the points on her teeth. Then his thumb slipped down, gripping her chin with help of his index and tilting her head somewhat upward. "Retract them," he demanded, his movements having slowed almost to a stop. He used her chin to move her face somewhat to the side, and kissed along her jawline. "And I'll keep going."
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 24, 2023 9:12:20 GMT -5
The needy whine that escaped her was halfway between animal and human. It was the sound of Regan being denied what she craved—one of lust and frustration all wrapped up into one. Even within Warren’s commanding presence there was a carefulness which the starry-eyed girl adored and the beast resented. She knew what Grant would have done, or Keelan for that matter. They would have smacked her, demanded compliance, and while crude perhaps, it would have been effective. For a moment, a battle that played on on her features to either double down or relent.
Eventually, the latter won out. Regan’s fangs retracted with a frustrated whimper.
After what seemed to be a few moments of inner struggle, Warren lifted his thumb from her chin and grazed it across her bottom lip and the edge of her teeth. Finding nothing sharp, he returned to the faster pace she wanted. "There we go, that's good," he whispered the words of encouragement against her ear, voice a breathy growl though entirely unlike the ones that might come from her. Heated, filled with careful, restrained pleasure.
Teeth first, then the claws. He reached for her forearms and pulled them down, away from his back. Doing so almost immediately made him feel cold in their absence, but he pulled them away regardless, and pinned them against the bed by her wrists. Then his lips returned to hers, matching the passion with which she had kissed him in the beginning.
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 25, 2023 19:43:40 GMT -5
The praise. The slight growl in Warren’s voice. All of it had Regan whimpering beneath him. Her hands pinned above her head, she returned the kiss with equal urgency before breaking with ragged breaths. Regan had aimed to be quiet and discreet in his office, but she made no such effort now. The hint of claws emerged from her fingertips, but her hands stayed put under his restraint.
Regan eventually broke the kiss. Her breath came quickly, her firelit eyes finding Warren’s as her skin grew warmer.
The sounds she made pushed him harder. He'd said it plenty of times before, but he was only a man. The noises, the way she felt, even the sight of her glowing eyes and the feeling of her skin growing hotter pleased him. Maybe because it felt so good, or maybe because of what Regan had said to him earlier, but this time around he had to focus a little harder to make himself last.
The way her breathing had increased, paired with the warmth of her skin, told him all he needed to know. He looked at her hands, nails suddenly pointed, and then turned his eyes back to her. He kept them there, leaned in close. “Careful with those claws now,” he warned. “You’re doing good. Keep looking at me.”
Post by Regan Lassiter on May 26, 2023 16:47:16 GMT -5
“Keep looking at me.”
Trust. That is what he’d asked for in his office. As she fought the rising heat in her skin, fear tangled up with the desire in her eyes as they remained fixed on his. His persistent, unshakable command and composure taunted the beast that lurked within the flames. It wanted to break him. To draw whatever crude darkness might be buried in him—as it was in every man—to the surface so that it might see itself reflected in it.
The sounds the rippled from her sounded increasingly feral. Less human, more animal as her heart hammered so fiercely it was almost audible.
Focusing on her was easier the louder she got. He dipped his head down for just a few moments, just long enough to kiss her neck and her shoulder. Her skin was hot against his lips, but it was bearable. No, not just bearable, he’d already begun to like the feeling. But when he returned his eyes to hers, he recognized something in them.
He thought of that night in the woods, when she’d entrusted him with her secret. How relieved she had seemed to feel when it was done, like the catharsis of war that he had spoken of that same night. A full breath of fresh air after lacking it. Keeping it in check didn’t appear to be easy. It was more like a constant struggle but if he let her let go now, she’d take him with her. “That’s my girl,” he said, and kissed her. Then his lips drifted to her temple for another kiss, before lingering by her ear. “Just a little longer, and then I’ll let you burn, on my terms.” He pulled back to her eyes again, hands pressing down just a little harder against her wrists, though more so because he was having to hold himself back than because he was trying to hold her back. “I’ve got you.”