I've been chipping away at the traumatic bonding WIP (what else... this fucking thing is having me in a chokehold), so for this snippet we're really leaning into Daathrata being a menacing asshole. You've been warned.
The blow comes too quickly for me to react. One second I'm riding him, the next, the back of his hand collides with my cheekbone. My teeth singing, I sail through the air, flung off the bed to sprawl on the floor. The impact booms around the walls. All I can do is lie there on my back gasping for air, disoriented, trying to focus my racing thoughts, until a shadow looms over me.
The kithlord towers in front of me, naked as the day he was born, his beloved dagger in hand. A titan of old, ready to smite the unworthy. Cold hands of fear squeeze my heart while I lie there at his mercy. My cheek throbs hotly, but my focus lies on that dagger.
"Please, no," I hear myself whimper, voice hollow, strangely detached from my body. My sight blurs.
"Hm. Is this how you show gratitude at my kindness, bas?"
His voice is soft again, honey dripping down my bare nerves. With a grunt, he lets himself fall to his knees, his legs left and right of my torso, squashing me down into the hard floor with all of his weight. The floorboards dig into my shoulder blades. My back screams at me, adding to the pain flaring in my cheek.
"You disappoint me, after I gave you so much?"
The dagger draws closer, cold steel pressing against my neck. Is this going to be the end? Stabbed while fucking, what a way to go. I know the blade is sharp, I've seen him whet it so many times by now, with the peculiar tenderness someone would reserve for tending to a lover.
For some weird reason, I get a flashback from when he sliced the prosciutto for me a mere week ago, so carefully… The blade's edge doesn't break my skin, yet. I don't dare swallow, although there is a hard lump threatening to burst forth from my throat. Struggling for breath, I keep wheezing, itchy tears of exertion streaming down my face.
