It was like biting into an apple.
His teeth popped through the teal rind and all at once a rush of juicy sweet irony flavor filled his mouth. He could feel the excess spill around his lips and dribble down his chin and neck. The world was scent of rusted metal. And Max reveled in it. Her flesh resisted as any raw flesh would and there was a sort of savage bliss in the conquest that was his teeth sinking in. His pupils almost immediately dilated, and as their black cores stretched they quivered like the thin membrane of a water balloon ready to pop.
Her breath caught and a hand found a tuft of his hair, like a centering point in the rush, a grip on the moment...was she struggling? He had to assist. His fingers dug at the small of her back and pulled inwards. His grip on her wrist tightened to a squeeze and locked. His teeth sunk deeper. He was obviously intent on making it worse...or better. Whatever the case may be. Either way her hand slipped away. He wanted to grin, but was happier with his teeth where they were.
Max heard it before he ever felt it. It was the shrieking sound of metal grinding fiercely against metal, and then a thud timed perfectly with a wet tear. Pain exploded from his arm like a geyser. It rushed and spread out across his shoulders, tensing his neck and dancing up and down his spine.
Her blade had stabbed clear through his right shoulder. The cursed metal bones were mostly unharmed, buy that did not to save the muscles, and meat of the arm. Nocere had successfully punched an slanted shaft through Maximos' shoulder, gridded against the bone, and as her shoulder met his the end of her blade had exited Max's arm just above his elbow. Black, was now spewing up from his jacket sleeve and staining the black cloth so that it shimmered, while black rolled off his elbow and spilled to the ground intertwining and puddling with her deep crimson vitae. Needless to say, his arm was very displeased and began to twitch and spasm violently.
V of XVII
He wanted to scream. But Max did not shout, for four simple reasons, which flashed across his mind like safety restraints, holding the agony at bay. First, it was rude to speak with your mouth full. Second, it is just was rude to chew with your mouth open. Third, one never spits up food at a dinner table. And fourth, to scream meant he had to let go, and she was far too tasty. Just because he was a monster did not mean he wasnt a gentleman. He simply refused. Instead, Nocere would feel a low and deep rumble bellow up from his chest and through his mouth across the wound and into the meaty bite. Whether a cry of pain or pleasure or both it was impossible to tell, but immediately following Max bit down ever harder. Like a injured soldier biting down on a chunk of wood or wad of cloth as the bullet was removed, Maximos chomped down with every bit of burning coursing through his arm.
With any luck, the mouthful o'alien was severed. Regardless, in one fierce motion, he jerked his head back, hard and fast would likely snap any threads of viscera that clung on. If Nocere looked up quickly she might see the freed and purple stained piece of herself vanish past the jagged line of his teeth.
Blood rolled freely down either side of his mouth and over his chin, staining his lips crimson like gory lipstick. Watery pink trickled from the hole in his cheek joining the waterfall painting his pale neck every shade from pink to rose to deep dark wine red. And Max was grinning. Though to be fair, with that new opening in the side of his face flashing his pearly whites, even with his mouth shut, Maximos simply could not be anything other than grinning, at least by half.
Hehehahaha...
He laughed, as he breathe seethed through his teeth. There was pain on his face, and also indescribable satisfaction. His laughter was punctuated by a wet smack. Max's arm was pouring out inky blackness in thick tar like globules. The substance had rolled down inside his sleeve and with a smack, the leather glove covering his right hand had slipped off and hit the ground. The arms convulsions having worked it free. Now Maximos' arm was doing what it shouldnt, what no normal arm would be due to the sheer masochistic pain of it all. Its fingers were limp, his hand barely standing, but his arm was bending upwards at the elbow. And as it lift, the pointed metal protruding out his elbow cut a line higher and higher up his arm, the tearing skin would send vibrations up the sheet of metal.
If she looked, Nocere might notice that while there was sticky black blood all over his right hand some of it seemed to be dripping from the hand itself. There was an odd cross shaped cut in his palm which she clearly had not made. And then the cut snapped open, and for a second there was a swirling orange vortex of an eye visible in Maximos' palm before the hand snapped up and grabbed her bicep and tricep area holding her bent elbow tight against his shoulder. If she hadnt moved she would be able to feel something warm and round rolling against her skin.
Then all at once Maximos jerked his body to the right, pivoting on his right foot. He bent right at the hips and both of his arms violently pulled to his right. One arm pulled her arm, the other shoved her by her hip.
That was the frustrating thing about these kitchen arenas. They couldnt even afford the fighters a good 10x10 space to move around there was always an oven, a stove, a cutting board, a table or something hard in the way.
Maximos' was performing a sort of improvised and slightly altered, and a tad more forceful hip throw. A key difference being he would step forward as he moved to throw, adding a bit more forward momentum and a tad more "throw" to the throw. And would, with any luck be sending one Miss Poema into an oven, a stove, a cutting board, a table, or something hard in the way of a safe, boring fall.
Your name...I never got your name my tasty new friend...
...all she knew was that it popped into her head when she saw the stage, along with a garbled memory of someone getting toasted by an oven, and Ryugi battling another man with a loaf of french bread... 
It was no wonder she was confused with stuff like that running through her head.
Ryugi did the dishes with his fist!
With his new mustache ready and set to combat the terrible smell by cutting the sense off completely, Ryugi quickly moved into action!
