[The pain of that touch jolts electricity across his nerves, the most he's felt in days—years, he shouldn't kid himself—acutely bright as it blisters through the sore wound. The immediate instinct is purely animal. He bares his teeth as though he's decided to rip out Sylvain's jugular singlehanded, and his hand tightens enough to put bruises around that slender white throat like a sick necklace. He could keep squeezing until he strangles the life out of his old friend. It would be the least that is deserved by either of them. For Dimitri to kill the only one he has ever...
Blood drips down his cheek, hot and tacky, distracting. It's nothing new. He can't even smell it. His whole world is too crowded by Sylvain, narrowed to this single point of violence that somehow still isn't enough. Make me might once have meant something kinder. A private kiss stolen in a dormitory bedroom; a handsy tussle in the practice yard; a knowing, low-lidded look across a classroom.
Dimitri's hand slackens just enough that when his other fist swings around, cracking across Sylvain's cheek in a punch powerful enough to knock him sideways, he'll be sent to the floor. There, Dimitri kicks him hard in the side, then the stomach, both at the joints of armor where it will hurt more. Then Dimitri is down on top of him like a dark storm, one hand yanking up Sylvain's handsome face by the roots of red hair, and he hits him across the other cheek.]
Shut— [snarled and panting, ragged as he falls to pieces in his rage,] —up, shut up, shut up...
no subject
Blood drips down his cheek, hot and tacky, distracting. It's nothing new. He can't even smell it. His whole world is too crowded by Sylvain, narrowed to this single point of violence that somehow still isn't enough. Make me might once have meant something kinder. A private kiss stolen in a dormitory bedroom; a handsy tussle in the practice yard; a knowing, low-lidded look across a classroom.
Dimitri's hand slackens just enough that when his other fist swings around, cracking across Sylvain's cheek in a punch powerful enough to knock him sideways, he'll be sent to the floor. There, Dimitri kicks him hard in the side, then the stomach, both at the joints of armor where it will hurt more. Then Dimitri is down on top of him like a dark storm, one hand yanking up Sylvain's handsome face by the roots of red hair, and he hits him across the other cheek.]
Shut— [snarled and panting, ragged as he falls to pieces in his rage,] —up, shut up, shut up...