continued from [X] ;; gloriouslydecadent
He didn't like the hold she had over him. The pull, the magnetic draw that she exuded, that kept him captivated by even the smallest movement of her lithe, curved frame. He could feel the exertion of his heart in his chest, the awkward and off kilter pitter patter that made his palms wet and his fingers jerk in random directions enough to twist the paper he'd held in his hand into a crumpled ball of parchment rather than anything immediately recognizable. He found it all to be extremely distasteful. He much preferred to be the one pulling the strings, the one with the handle on the situation and the one that had the endgame in sight. Even in his beleaguered state of mind, there was the sense that this was beyond his control, that this was something unnatural.
Perhaps it was the years that he had spent watching, ever suspicious and wary, the others that occupied his hearth and home for signs of their abilities, their sorcery -- always on the alert for any way in which they might have tried to use their abilities to influence him. Perhaps it was the fact that he wa entirely predisposed to being a sullen bastard. Unfortunately for him, even recognizing some sense of things being not the way they should did little to nothing to prevent the succubus pull on his heart strings. "Look, here --" he began, his voice thick, his throat suddenly dry as he tried to muster up something that resembled ire. "I do not know who you think you are," he huffed twice, as if filling his chest with hot air would provide some sort of relief from the tension in his limbs. "Or what ...." His tongue flicked against his mouth, attempting to moisten the parched skin. "What shenanigans you think you can get away with, but you...."
There were a number of words, a number of ways in which he could have -- wanted to finish that sentence. "Be grateful that I am not a caveman," he managed to bluster, finally. "Do you -- do you think you can manage to get me what I came for, or... ?"
