I want the k - @diedindulvey >:)
Through the ringing in his ears, Winters had enough time to register rhythmic thuds of the Lycans retreating —- certainly, not the kind of running in fear, but a collective withdrawal with synchronized purpose, as if by an invisible leash jerking them backward. Then, the heavy, boots crunching-on snow-patterned gravel approached, shattering the silence, and a towering shadow fell over him, blurred by a thick curtain of riverbank mist. When did the person manage to appear from the treeline?? For a heartbeat, the agony of almost mangled body receded, entirely eclipsed by the baffling audacity of what had just occurred.
For a long, breathless moment, the Lord of Iron stared down at the half-conscious man, his brain short-circuiting at sheer audacity of this man still-not-dying. He had fully intended to let the Lycans finish the job, to watch the annoying outsider get ripped to shreds and be done with his relentless boycotting. But he finally got his flask, so why the troubles? Instead, some manic, unpredictable spark of adrenaline had driven him to cut through the courteous limit; staking an unrelenting claim.
Dropping to one knee in a crouch, fingers gripped the foreigner's jaw, the warmth from leather touch contrasting sharply with the cool weather at the outskirts of Strongholds; despite coverage, fingertips seemed to radiate a strange pulse, as if speaking to the mold colony of his body. With a firm yet gentle pressure, Ethan's head was tilted back, angling it just right so their eyes locked in the upside-down, dangling on perspective of the awkward angle. The geometry of scenery flipped on its head, and tension snapped like a taut wire before Dulvey's survivor could formulate a proper insult or protest -- and in a flooding assault on his senses, their lips crashed together.
There was no space for air, only hunger; only consumption, burning with the same erratic energy as throwing a torch into a voltage regulator.
Every fragment of air escaping either of their lips was greedily swallowed, punctuated by a possessive, sharp nip and territorial mapping.
Once it broke, the shockwave of the kiss faded into the heavy, blood-scented air, the phantom burn of Karl's lips, however, lingered mockingly on his own like a branding iron. However, when Ethan blinked again, the fourth Lord wasn't there, though he could swear there was a phantom trace of his echo; ' Don't get too distracted, papa! They'll be back in no time ... '
send 🎲 to generate a kiss! || ᵖᵃʳᵗ ( 𝐈. ) 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄. ⇁ ⑆ & @diedindulvey 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐃 and got himself 21. WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)