[He looks away, a cold, remote feeling coming over him again while he stands there, his nails piercing the palms of his gloves. It's unfair, being mired with regret while Hector lets that same night wash off him like nothing happened, with a matter-of-factness to his tone that is almost properly convincing. Hector may be hurting, but he isn't bleeding openly. Still has some dignity for a man who had downright begged for cock.
His fists squeeze tighter.]
I could have snapped your neck.
[No trace of remorse or uncertainty colours his voice. Could've - even should've, something whispers to him - left a body in the cave for the rats to find, like those of the few demons he has shoved out the tower window they came through in the last half year, their laughter still ringing in his ears. But he hadn't, Isaac thinks, having laid back and let things happen, and for longer than they should've. Lost and dizzied with lust, running hot and cold. He can feel a twinge of phantom pain in his forehead, though the wound closed long ago. Nothing left of it but a memory; the only thing a devil's healing couldn't smooth away.]
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His fists squeeze tighter.]
I could have snapped your neck.
[No trace of remorse or uncertainty colours his voice. Could've - even should've, something whispers to him - left a body in the cave for the rats to find, like those of the few demons he has shoved out the tower window they came through in the last half year, their laughter still ringing in his ears. But he hadn't, Isaac thinks, having laid back and let things happen, and for longer than they should've. Lost and dizzied with lust, running hot and cold. He can feel a twinge of phantom pain in his forehead, though the wound closed long ago. Nothing left of it but a memory; the only thing a devil's healing couldn't smooth away.]