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    Summary

    Aerion's like a caged thing pathetically snarling at its predicament, yet entirely powerless for all its bluster, mangy and half-eaten by fleas.

    Looks like a correctional lesson’s on the docket. No, he tells himself. He shouldn’t indulge. Not again.

    The first—and the last—time was a colossal hungry mistake. A destroyer-mistake. It won’t happen again. Hold it back. Swallow it down, work your throat around its shape and force it back down, like vomit, like underground mud water. But, it’s a torrential freshet, a demanding pressure and it’s not easing up. His control’s snapping like a splintering bone that’s been eaten away at, Aerion’s blood like a cloying dose of cough syrup stuck at the back of his throat, and his fingers are twitching, his brain getting tipsy on the swirls of possibilities, on the choked sounds he could coax out, on the little bucking movements of resistance.

    *

    Or, to keep Aerion from acting out, Valarr leashes him the only way he knows how. He's got the whole thing under control. Totally.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    18,091
    Chapters:
    2/2
    Comments:
    12
    Kudos:
    146
    Bookmarks:
    24
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