-- & SO THEY REMAIN . . . Despite knowing how it works, Iago digs in their heels just as stubbornly as Puck does when he marches over to the dresser to push it against the door, all while his hands are cuffed. He knows how this works, too.
Puck hears the start of their half-whisper but the sound is drowned by the dresser screeching like a dying bird, one that is tortured slowly, maybe roasted over a fire, as it drags across the floor. Then he collapses with his back knocking against the drawers -- not from the effort it took to move the furniture, but from the strain of denying himself what he really wants. The movement rattles the door.
❝ I'm not trying to get out. Just sitting down. ❞ The handcuffs scrape at the wood underneath him as he adjusts to face the sound of Iago's heartbeat. He paws at the drawer handles, pulling them open then pushing them closed repeatedly.
❝ What did you say ? I wasn't paying attention. ❞
CONTINUED FROM HERE / @accultant










