RP post snippets for Aurastor

Your offerings were made freely to-

Saren’s eyes take on a lightness that was anything but mirth. He had paused for seconds only to listen before pacing one step, and another, around the Drukhari.

Ecstasy is what I savour.

Saren fixes him with a bored look.

But that is not for your kind to know, is it

“Hm,” is his only response. He thinks he knows to what Marazhai refers. His kind’s addiction to pain, surely. In a way, not entirely alien.

He knew that if he remained silent that Marazhai would fill the void with whatever was most telling. Whatever the wretched creature wanted most.

Are you curious-

There it was. Saren smiles lightly, keeping it from his eyes knowingly.

Perhaps I can show your simple mind-

He looks down with a most gentle wryness, not hardly in submission, but something else entirely. Marazhai would find Saren's eyes returned to his from under his brows, never quite turning up to face him. An honest brightness in his look screamed warning and invitation in equal measure.

“You wish to feel power.”

His head tilts just imperceptibly.

With a click of his teeth he leans an inch sideways.

“Poor host I’ve been.” He mutters.

It was not sarcasm but something darker that bubbled from his teeth.

He regards him with knives behind his eyes. And straightens his posture as Marazhai dares to reach for him. His gaze never leaves the other’s eyes.

“Go on. Don’t,” he says slowly, “be afraid.”

Saren met his claws with a tight grasp as they both stumbled in a hurry against the desk. Massive as it was, even it bayed as it slid inches back from the impact. Ornamentation clattered in chorus with the hardware of Saren’s overcoat, barely upon his shoulders after just moments of their struggle.

Claws might not easily pierce von Aurastor’s waistcoat, but in the seconds of lapsed breath, Marazhai would hear a pained giggle and a free hand begin to undo the few buttons holding the gilded hems tight to his waist.

I will not kill you if you-

Saren’s giggle transforms into a chuckle. Broken and ending its life as a growl.

You allow me this… that I would savour-

He lets his own hands loosen their grip and hums. Makes him await. Marazhai meets his look with a laugh. Claws return. Saren’s own cold gaze softens into neutral attention as the Drukhari leaned in while he barely fights him, draws him in with a display of, perhaps, resigned abeyance.

Marazhai is close then. He barely hears his words, mind still hooked to those offered just previously.

You will kill me, won’t you, Rogue Trader-

Saren tilts his chin up to nearly meet his mouth, eyes widening as pupils contract.

“Allow you?” He asks, finally, lips curling into a sneer as his hands race for the pale neck. His body cords as he erupted his full weight against him to stand level with him. His shoulder, wound in his fullest ire, releases to aim a bony fist for Marazhai’s jaw and throw him with the grip upon his neck to the inset bookcase that overlooked their strange contest.

“For this, too, you will learn to beg.” Saren breathes, suddenly nursing his trembling fist in a tight, protective grip. His posture, straightened, retains whatever languor it held before his back had ever met the desk.

“No, I won’t kill you.” He sighs. “But touch me again without my permission and I will do far worse.”