Falls of the Hinterlands It's the last midnight

The same hound that has slayed many a foe and survived too many close calls with death does not expect the teeth that snatch up a thick scruff. Furthermore, he doesn’t expect the strong arm that grips him with possessive and aggressive excitement to drop him to the ground. On his back. With the other on top.

Alduin has a resurfacing memory as he witnesses the other male stand on top him. He’s reminded of Sayf. Which brings back a slough of feelings and memories that he still hasn’t unpacked yet. But the switching of positions isn’t the most adequate thing. And yet, somehow the hellhound has yet to snap his teeth. The feeling surges — the desire to dangerously assert his dominance as it is taken from him. Yet, as the other man’s muzzle brushes against his own it has him stilling some — nothing but a vague twitch of his lips any evidence that he would snap back in the first place. 

And Arashi speaks once more, telling him of their power to be — the force of reckoning they’ll become. For a moment, Alduin doesn’t doubt him at all, but his more rational mind speaks of this man earning his keep. 

Oh, but Arashi’s a ticking time bomb now — willing to take out himself and all around him with a slash of his teeth and a spew of blood. 

Alduin will take him hand in hand on that.

But the hound’s shock at the newfound position had faded almost immediately, only to be replaced by a heated gaze of both eager male dominance and perhaps a hint of his more shameful, carnal side.

And so he accepts — relents — but only for one thing…

His shifts his muzzle beside his own, craning his head up to an ear.

Banesteppe’s words echo in his mind, Any and all in exchange for a soul.

So the slave repeats it.

“Any and all in exchange for a soul.” He confirms in that low, rasping tone — quiet to any around but dauntingly clear and heavy to the man above him.