[The beast in him knows what it wants: to mercilessly draw out the chase exactly like this, mere nose-lengths behind his frantic fleeing prey, and harry the stag to run in terror until its heart bursts from the strain of it. He wants to watch it collapse, bright and alive one minute and fresh meat the next, preserved for a few fleeting seconds in its perfection before his fangs start to tear into it and feast.
What the god in him wants, on the other hand. Well — it really isn't so far off from that, either. The sensible half of him knows that he lacks the capability to harm Yuri, much less devour him, but feasting on his flesh isn't altogether out of the question, from a certain point of view.
And Yuri knows it, too. He knows it. Wants it. Invites it.
Who is Dima, to leave him wanting?]
Beloved —
[It was like this the first time. He's never forgotten that first time, how the game itself had been just like any other, leaping and bounding and pouncing, except that his blood had boiled hotter than he'd expected and he'd tumbled to land atop his brother in pinning him, and a single jerk of his hips had sent an unexpected flash of pleasure to warm his belly
and he'd done it again
and again
and again
and it made it even better than it'd been before, rendered him drunk on satisfaction and the noises smothered between the two of them, the soft astonished ones that even now he doesn't know which of the two of them were responsible for making.
He's never forgotten that feeling. How sudden euphoria had given way to sticky satiety and he'd been left panting and bewildered, confused and addicted.]
I know what you need.
[He lunges, drawing on a sudden burst of speed to hurl the full weight of his borrowed body into the air, and lands halfway over the fleeing deer's haunches, rolling to the side in the same motion to throw his prey to the ground with the same force that's going to send his own form sprawling.
But a wolf is faster back to his feet than a deer, and once Yuri is downed, it takes Dima no time at all to scuffle his feet and throw himself forward onto him, the thick fur of his belly rubbing surprisingly soft along the expanse of Yuri's side as he crawls up and over to pin him.]
no subject
What the god in him wants, on the other hand. Well — it really isn't so far off from that, either. The sensible half of him knows that he lacks the capability to harm Yuri, much less devour him, but feasting on his flesh isn't altogether out of the question, from a certain point of view.
And Yuri knows it, too. He knows it. Wants it. Invites it.
Who is Dima, to leave him wanting?]
Beloved —
[It was like this the first time. He's never forgotten that first time, how the game itself had been just like any other, leaping and bounding and pouncing, except that his blood had boiled hotter than he'd expected and he'd tumbled to land atop his brother in pinning him, and a single jerk of his hips had sent an unexpected flash of pleasure to warm his belly
and he'd done it again
and again
and again
and it made it even better than it'd been before, rendered him drunk on satisfaction and the noises smothered between the two of them, the soft astonished ones that even now he doesn't know which of the two of them were responsible for making.
He's never forgotten that feeling. How sudden euphoria had given way to sticky satiety and he'd been left panting and bewildered, confused and addicted.]
I know what you need.
[He lunges, drawing on a sudden burst of speed to hurl the full weight of his borrowed body into the air, and lands halfway over the fleeing deer's haunches, rolling to the side in the same motion to throw his prey to the ground with the same force that's going to send his own form sprawling.
But a wolf is faster back to his feet than a deer, and once Yuri is downed, it takes Dima no time at all to scuffle his feet and throw himself forward onto him, the thick fur of his belly rubbing surprisingly soft along the expanse of Yuri's side as he crawls up and over to pin him.]