[Isaac jerks his head around to stare at him like he's been slapped, his chest heaving.]
Shut up!
[His voice tears through the dark, jagged and vicious.
Between Hector's desperation and his own hitting a peak, all of him is pulling apart at the seams. He grinds the heels of his hands into his forehead, into his eyes, until he sees stars, wanting to scream. It's tempting to drive his fist into the wall until his knuckles shatter. But it's as if his whole body has given out on him, consumed with a sense of helplessness as absolute and huge and terrible as the anger shaking his bones.]
Fuck me--! [He hears himself spit out the words like threat. He gulps down another breath through a sharp swooping feeling inside him, searching every part of himself for the man he knows he's supposed to be: the Isaac who would've looked at Hector now, flushed and trembly-weak and begging for cock, and let out a throaty laugh, the laugh of a mad king; the Isaac who fears nothing, looking for trouble before it could find them; the Isaac who could only sneer at the sad shell of a forgemaster he's become and pulp his skull against the rocks, doing them both a favour.]
no subject
Shut up!
[His voice tears through the dark, jagged and vicious.
Between Hector's desperation and his own hitting a peak, all of him is pulling apart at the seams. He grinds the heels of his hands into his forehead, into his eyes, until he sees stars, wanting to scream. It's tempting to drive his fist into the wall until his knuckles shatter. But it's as if his whole body has given out on him, consumed with a sense of helplessness as absolute and huge and terrible as the anger shaking his bones.]
Fuck me--! [He hears himself spit out the words like threat. He gulps down another breath through a sharp swooping feeling inside him, searching every part of himself for the man he knows he's supposed to be: the Isaac who would've looked at Hector now, flushed and trembly-weak and begging for cock, and let out a throaty laugh, the laugh of a mad king; the Isaac who fears nothing, looking for trouble before it could find them; the Isaac who could only sneer at the sad shell of a forgemaster he's become and pulp his skull against the rocks, doing them both a favour.]