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Summary
His red-crescent nails skim up a length of your spine, then flit under your chin.
“You’re fascinating.” A tone seeps into his voice, one you’ve never heard from a troll even after all this time, a rumbling croon rising and falling in harmony with his speech proper. If an insect could purr, and if that insect was also fixing you with half-lidded, dark eyes, you imagine it would sound like this. “I want you, now. We’ve spent long enough on this song and dance, don’t you think?”
The last word is punctuated with a slow roll of his hips, and somehow up until now you hadn’t noticed the tent in his pants grinding against you.