Duskfire Glacier not kids no more

faust snarled.
she's not my— whatever. the words cut off like the snap of a thread, severed before they could be given life.
he would not give her that.
his weight pinned her down, breath hot against the cold, the force of his body caging hers against the unforgiving ice. she did not fight him. she never did. because she liked it. the wicked gleam in her eye, the curl of her lips—she thrived on this.
his teeth flashed, a warning, a promise.
you think this is me off my chain?
he let his grip tighten, just for a breath, just to watch the way her body reacted beneath his. every taunt, every fucking word was a test. she was pulling him, dragging him into the chaos she craved.
and he let her.
his gaze burned into hers, green fire seething with something just as wild, just as reckless.
we are not in the wilds anymore, svalla.
his voice was low, steady, but beneath it lurked a violence neither of them had ever quite learned to temper. these games you play? they have real consequences.
his muzzle dropped close, so close their breaths tangled in the cold. you do not want to know what i will do if you keep testing me.
he held her there a moment longer, the heat between them simmering into something far more dangerous than anger, something neither of them would ever name.
then, just as suddenly as he had thrown her down, he wrenched himself away, stepping back with ease.
walk carefully, svalla. the smirk that ghosted across his lips was humorless, dark. i am not as kind as you remember.

exit faust