[ The cry might as well be a hit, a new addition that's meant to go together with the taste of his blood, pooling on Theo's back while magic gets back to work. His hips press forward again, a little moan at the pressure and friction on his dick. Dom licks at his own mouth, laps up the mess, makes a pathetic noise of blissed out desperation for more.
This isn't him. It is. He shouldn't want it to be, but it feels like there's nothing else anymore. ]
no subject
This isn't him. It is. He shouldn't want it to be, but it feels like there's nothing else anymore. ]
Say… say it.
[ You treat me like I'm yours isn't enough. ]
You're mine.