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Summary
Dainsleif’s breath hitches when he tries to imagine you at the receiving end of his blade. No. No, he couldn’t ever hurt you.
“I…” he breathes, gruesome images flashing between scattered thoughts, “I could never bring myself to injure someone like you. No. You don’t deserve it.”
But…
He could, and does, imagine you underneath him, at his mercy. Imagines you pinned down by his hands or his powers, his body pressed against yours. He imagines himself buried deep in the pure body of a god, defiling a celestial being with his sinful Khaenri’ahn touch. Arousal washes him from head to toe, sending shivers down his spine. Something inside him is pleased by the imagination, and something else wants to make it real. He tries to snap himself out of it, to no avail.
How exhausted is he? Is he delirious from the curse? Perhaps it’s just all his years of being alone, or maybe it’s the thin air of the Chasm…
… Forgive me, he thinks to himself. But I ask not the forgiveness of the Archons above.
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AKA dainsleif and reader (mostly dainsleif) have a twisted sense of revenge and lowkey enjoy it ALSO this is unedited sorry