Larksong Grotto done running

his voice is vicious, biting, a blade against the larger man's throat. "you followed me because you wanted to. killed him because you liked the way it felt. emýr has him pressed against the tree, breath ghosting dangerously against the skin of his neck, but he does not back down. he nips softly, not flirtation. a taunt.

"maybe you'll kill me now. and you'll like it, too. feelin' me wither and die beneath you." he presses close, chest to chest, one paw prodding at the space between them.

"you think i belong to you? that i will bend beneath your touch like a wife?" closer still and he is pushing, shoving like a madman. eyes wide, face twisted.

"i am not yours to take. i want nothing from you. so kill me here or leave." pushing, shoving, hitting with weak front paws. attempting to prompt a violent reaction. the tension between them stretches thin.