[ It does what it's supposed to — Theo's intent is to flip so he does, perhaps inserting some of Cellar's lessons into the element of surprise. Dom's back hits item no. who the fuck knows that was thrown and broken on the floor, arching his back away from the sharp pain, what would normally be a grimace something far more animalistic. Adorned with fangs and a mouth made to rip flesh off bones, he grabs Theo's face, listens to his heartbeat and wonders how fast hatred is making his blood pump. Despite what he said, the sigil is still pulsing from his skin, fueling a fight for dominance, not destruction.
Wrestling, turning them around again, Dom keeps going, crying out if Theo ever uses magic to make it hurt, but refusing to ever back down. He won't stop until he has Theo on his stomach, facing the floor to leave his nape exposed, Dom pinning him down with his weight on his lower back, dipping to smell the back of his neck, heavy breathing from exertion, from excitement. ]
Mine.
[ His to love. His to hurt. Dom opens his mouth wide, bites down to write his claim in Theo's blood. ]
no subject
Wrestling, turning them around again, Dom keeps going, crying out if Theo ever uses magic to make it hurt, but refusing to ever back down. He won't stop until he has Theo on his stomach, facing the floor to leave his nape exposed, Dom pinning him down with his weight on his lower back, dipping to smell the back of his neck, heavy breathing from exertion, from excitement. ]
Mine.
[ His to love. His to hurt. Dom opens his mouth wide, bites down to write his claim in Theo's blood. ]