[ His vision swims after the break, and his already naturally rapid heartbeat thrums even faster. He’s broken every bone in his body at least once in his life, but the femur and pelvis were always the worst. That’s why they were the first that would be targeted when a young Drukhari was training. Any halfborn that didn’t bear it would just have their suffering extracted and then discarded. Another vat-grown whelp would replace them. But a trueborn? No, they are too special. There is no choice. They will learn.
Marazhai’s throat feels raw from the intensity of the howl that had torn out of him, and it stings even more as he feels Heinrix’s control relax, marginally. He squirms under Heinrix’s hand, but not with any of the strength necessary to dislodge the man. Every muscle feels like it’s been stretched too far. ]
You’re enjoying—
[ He starts to call him out for it, because he can feel it. Or rather, its result. The bloodthirst and disgust brush against Marazhai’s senses, and even now, he wants to drink it up. It’s not something that comes from sanity. But it’s cut off by the feeling in his other leg that’s a pain of a different sort. He twists and his more functional hand comes up to grab Heinrix’s wrist tightly. If he had his gauntlets, the vicious things would surely dig down to bone, so even sharp fingernails are nothing by comparison.
He hates it. He loves it. It’s agony in every beat of his heart, and it’s vivid bliss in every draw of breath. The Drukhari may fear Sai'lanthresh with every fiber of their being, yet there are few creatures that are such slaves to the exact kind of hedonism the Dark Prince desires. He only gets harder, but he breathes out a laugh to feel it. Will he come first, or will he fall unconscious? He’s not sure. He's at Heinrix's mercy, and he knows it. ]
Still trying- [ A shallow breath, a gasp that’s pained, and yet, ] -for a deluge?
no subject
Marazhai’s throat feels raw from the intensity of the howl that had torn out of him, and it stings even more as he feels Heinrix’s control relax, marginally. He squirms under Heinrix’s hand, but not with any of the strength necessary to dislodge the man. Every muscle feels like it’s been stretched too far. ]
You’re enjoying—
[ He starts to call him out for it, because he can feel it. Or rather, its result. The bloodthirst and disgust brush against Marazhai’s senses, and even now, he wants to drink it up. It’s not something that comes from sanity. But it’s cut off by the feeling in his other leg that’s a pain of a different sort. He twists and his more functional hand comes up to grab Heinrix’s wrist tightly. If he had his gauntlets, the vicious things would surely dig down to bone, so even sharp fingernails are nothing by comparison.
He hates it. He loves it. It’s agony in every beat of his heart, and it’s vivid bliss in every draw of breath. The Drukhari may fear Sai'lanthresh with every fiber of their being, yet there are few creatures that are such slaves to the exact kind of hedonism the Dark Prince desires. He only gets harder, but he breathes out a laugh to feel it. Will he come first, or will he fall unconscious? He’s not sure. He's at Heinrix's mercy, and he knows it. ]
Still trying- [ A shallow breath, a gasp that’s pained, and yet, ] -for a deluge?