Silverlight Terrace Cruel

I don't give a flying rat's ass if it's good enough,

That’s the first reply he gets. It has him side eyeing the other man with a look that could kill. One that’s dark and seeing just about over the bullshit the other man is about to spew before he even does it.

And yet, it keeps coming.

You asked, and I told you what I know. So don't give me that bullshit.

At that, Alduin’s lips wrinkle and a sliver of teeth show as he stops walking completely. At this point, he even drops the skull at his feet to truly glare at the other this time. He’s almost ready to interrupt him before the other continues.

Nothing changes. He dismisses him by telling the hellhound to ask Sovereign himself if he’s dying to know so bad.

That’s when a growl laces Alduin’s throat. He’s reminded of why he fought with this man the first time they met. Sure, Alduin took the dominance when he was flipped on his back not long before their coupling. Sure, there’s still an arousing heat in his belly when he thinks about their tangling of limbs. But Alduin is no man to be bitched around. Especially as he gets older and closer to reaching physical and sexual maturity, his testosterone only heightens. He was aggressive before, but he only sees it getting worse.

So he’d snap out at his companion who had already been lingering close enough to touch. He goes for the face, rather the cheek. Only enough to draw a pinch of blood and more just to check him if anything.

“Cut the attitude, piss-hound.” He’s growling. The deep, husky voice of his meaning business and sure to spark even more blood between them. “If they are enemies of Nyra, it’s likely they’re my enemies as well.” He would steel his expression, cold, unforgiving, and bloodthirsty. “We will kill them.”