[ It doesn't take much to make it happen— Fenris had already torn up the sides in his earlier excitement and even if he hadn't? It's simple cotton against monstrous strength. Rafe is soon left with nothing but what cloth hangs from his back and the only consolation is how dim Fenris keeps it up here. True, there's the glow from all those tattoos but the blue and the shadows combine for gentler illumination than they might otherwise have: what necrotic skin still clinging on is only barely distinguishable from the darker dermis beneath it.
He sits up again, a palm splayed against Fenris's chest as his shoulders curl in on himself in some half-assed attempt to... To hide. Fuck. His eyes flicker down at himself, jaw clenching against embarrassment before cold implacable logic creeps to the fore. Fenris had said this was what he wanted, hadn't he. May as well let him see the whole of what he's signing up for.
But all the rationality in the world is enough to make him sit up and put it on display so instead he remains as he is. Hunched over on top of a crystalline croc in severe need of a manicure, still expecting Fenris to come to his senses. ]
You're going to be hell on my wardrobe.
[ Course it'll take more than that for him to stop running his mouth. Or to stop from rolling his hips down in a rough and filthy grind against Fenris's crotch. If he's told to get off, he'll get off but until then he's here. ]
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winterfish
cw: body dysmorphia, skin horror, implications of past sexual/physical abuse, past slavery, ptsd
Date: 2020-12-02 07:56 am (UTC)He sits up again, a palm splayed against Fenris's chest as his shoulders curl in on himself in some half-assed attempt to... To hide. Fuck. His eyes flicker down at himself, jaw clenching against embarrassment before cold implacable logic creeps to the fore. Fenris had said this was what he wanted, hadn't he. May as well let him see the whole of what he's signing up for.
But all the rationality in the world is enough to make him sit up and put it on display so instead he remains as he is. Hunched over on top of a crystalline croc in severe need of a manicure, still expecting Fenris to come to his senses. ]
You're going to be hell on my wardrobe.
[ Course it'll take more than that for him to stop running his mouth. Or to stop from rolling his hips down in a rough and filthy grind against Fenris's crotch. If he's told to get off, he'll get off but until then he's here. ]