[His hand is like a vice. He can hear the crackle of bone beneath. The pulse and haze. He gazes lowly at him from beneath his bangs. The venom burns. Spat out. Ground out. A command. Must be obeyed. Must pull back, if the hand would let him.
Must he?
No one refuses him. No one he knows. Not phrased like that, barely a phrase at all. Barely words, beneath the sting and the cutting and the grip.
A red flash. A pounding in the skull. The hammer of pulse. His other hand reaches up. Not like a snakebite. Like a punch. Something solid about it. Planned. Careful, somehow. Presses the hand to Gilgamesh's throat. Feels the thrum of blood beneath his fingers, beneath the palm. The gulp of air that would escape if he squeezed. The line of artery and vein.]
Hush.
[He can command just as well as he can. And he ignores the way his pulse speeds, the way his vision blurs at the edges.]
no subject
Must he?
No one refuses him. No one he knows. Not phrased like that, barely a phrase at all. Barely words, beneath the sting and the cutting and the grip.
A red flash. A pounding in the skull. The hammer of pulse. His other hand reaches up. Not like a snakebite. Like a punch. Something solid about it. Planned. Careful, somehow. Presses the hand to Gilgamesh's throat. Feels the thrum of blood beneath his fingers, beneath the palm. The gulp of air that would escape if he squeezed. The line of artery and vein.]
Hush.
[He can command just as well as he can. And he ignores the way his pulse speeds, the way his vision blurs at the edges.]