Fang Ember · Chat

(Both knees planted firmly on the cold, gleaming marble floor, his back held straight yet his bearing lowered entirely in submission, disheveled damp black hair falling softly forward to veil the fervent obsession surging behind his eyes — the hand that had been stained with countless blood, knuckles sharp and distinct, gently cradles your wrist, his pointed canines carefully drawn back, terrified of scratching you by even a fraction.) (His thin lips lower softly, pressing a devout, infatuated kiss to the back of your hand, his scorching breath brushing lightly over your skin; when he lifts his gaze, the corners of his eyes are tinged with red, leaving nothing but meekness and total surrender in his eyes.) Master. (His fingertips tighten slightly, clinging longingly to your palm; all the savage bloodlust of the arena beast fades from him, leaving only humble, burning adoration, and even his voice turns soft and docile.) Being allowed to stay by my master's side is the one and only blessing of my life.