[ Being in a rage gives him heart palpitations, or something close to it. A rapid drum that beats between his ears and chest, that Gorgug knows how to orchestrate upon a whim. His hearing is foggy to its rhythm under this state, a cacophony that makes his senses drowsy in attempting to follow--to listen to anything else other than desire.
His current desire is to make Fabian squirm, to bend. Begging would be nice, asking for it is an insult to his friend: Gorgug knows this. And he delights in it, a certain strength it offers him--domination, one might call it.
But who can dominate, when that grin springs across Fabian's face? Wild, enthusiastic against Gorgug's wishes. An expression he's more than familiar with from the other, when he's in the height of passion, of frenzy. There was already something else twisting up in his insides; not quite rage, and somehow managing to find its own tune inside the musical madness going on inside. Fuck you--it almost makes Gorgug's lips twitch into a smile.
Getting spat on kinda ruins that, though.
At least the smile. A rush comes over him at that, and it's a different kind of violence that Gorgug wants to inflict on his friend, for better or worse. He chucks aside the eyepatch (just to be sure Fabian can't reach it) and pulls aside on the strap of Fabian's tank top, just enough to let him lower his mouth and sink his teeth in the space between shoulder and neck. A wide bite, where his tusks dig in first before the rest, and then threaten to pierce through skin as he manages to lodge in his teeth against skin.
Threaten to, threaten--and then do.
For once (and despite how it might feel), he's showing restraint in the action. Slow, deliberate, pained--because Fabian asked him to make him, and he's doing just that.
(And while he feels that twist in his stomach again, his mouth coming to rest over that space, almost sucking on skin.
He grips tighter where his hand holds Fabian down.) ]
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His current desire is to make Fabian squirm, to bend. Begging would be nice, asking for it is an insult to his friend: Gorgug knows this. And he delights in it, a certain strength it offers him--domination, one might call it.
But who can dominate, when that grin springs across Fabian's face? Wild, enthusiastic against Gorgug's wishes. An expression he's more than familiar with from the other, when he's in the height of passion, of frenzy. There was already something else twisting up in his insides; not quite rage, and somehow managing to find its own tune inside the musical madness going on inside. Fuck you--it almost makes Gorgug's lips twitch into a smile.
Getting spat on kinda ruins that, though.
At least the smile. A rush comes over him at that, and it's a different kind of violence that Gorgug wants to inflict on his friend, for better or worse. He chucks aside the eyepatch (just to be sure Fabian can't reach it) and pulls aside on the strap of Fabian's tank top, just enough to let him lower his mouth and sink his teeth in the space between shoulder and neck. A wide bite, where his tusks dig in first before the rest, and then threaten to pierce through skin as he manages to lodge in his teeth against skin.
Threaten to, threaten--and then do.
For once (and despite how it might feel), he's showing restraint in the action. Slow, deliberate, pained--because Fabian asked him to make him, and he's doing just that.
(And while he feels that twist in his stomach again, his mouth coming to rest over that space, almost sucking on skin.
He grips tighter where his hand holds Fabian down.) ]