Black Morass opiate vapour

He growled. It was a guttural vibration that reverberated through his barrel of a chest. The weight he boasted came down harder, dark nails digging through the wet ground on either side of her head. He leaned closer, his breath hot and heavy against her face; humid and muggy. He is rough as he speaks, and not shy with his aggression.

"You should’ve known better."

Fool.

He had no use for fools.

He would be doing her a favor by snuffing her life out now.

But he didn't.

He scoffs, laughing, and thick legs exude power as he unlatches himself from atop her. He takes a step back, only singular, unwilling to yet let her leave him. He would be back upon her in moments if she tried anything. "You didn’t know," the snap of his teeth was mocking, "Well, now you do."