[ There’s a hand at his throat, now, and both of his own drop to his sides, useless. There’s no time to snap back at Crowley’s unnecessary comments to Dextera— his own heart is beating fast and hard, angry, protective, guilty and ashamed all at once, and then fangs sink into him like usual.
It’s become habit here, but that doesn’t make the experience any different. He tries not to react much, for his own pride as well as Dextera’s sake, but there’s still a brief exhale at the start. No matter how many times this happens, it’s still this overwhelming sensation. He’s just prey, food, vulnerable and unable to lift his hands against it even if he would bother to try.
Blood drains from him quickly, and his strength goes with it. He stares past Crowley, past wherever Dextera might be lingering now to find a spot on the wall to focus on. He always feels like that might help distract him from the rush of being this close to death, but it’s still dizzying, intoxicating in the strangest way. ]
no subject
It’s become habit here, but that doesn’t make the experience any different. He tries not to react much, for his own pride as well as Dextera’s sake, but there’s still a brief exhale at the start. No matter how many times this happens, it’s still this overwhelming sensation. He’s just prey, food, vulnerable and unable to lift his hands against it even if he would bother to try.
Blood drains from him quickly, and his strength goes with it. He stares past Crowley, past wherever Dextera might be lingering now to find a spot on the wall to focus on. He always feels like that might help distract him from the rush of being this close to death, but it’s still dizzying, intoxicating in the strangest way. ]