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The Prince of Heart. The Destroyer of Souls.
A rather worthy prize for a game well played. It was a shame that the stupid jungle boy had kept his head, his body somewhere laying in a pathetic pile of his own blood and broken transportalizer, but you could always deal with that later. Right now, the more interesting one, the dreamer, the awakened Prince himself, was at your mercy.
He had lost. For once, his little plans had failed.
He was propped against the wall, shackle on his ankle for once! He would be with you here until you were sick of him.
And you would never be sick of him because his disgusting human habits, his stupid little brain that thinks he can outsmart you, they do nothing but make you hot and hate yourself because something so inferior exists and you want it, so you took it.
Dirk failed. He made one false move, failed to predict theright move, and now he was fucking yours.
You reach out and grab his hair to lift his head and give him one of those human kisses, hard and heavy, taking any sweetness and tenderness that might have existed in the gesture and turning it into a matter of dominance.
Orange eyes looked at you, unpassive, not bothering to close (which was fine, neither did yours) and lips unmoving. He let you take that kiss, but he refused to share in it.
He'd learn.
Maybe with someone like him around, this planet wouldn't be such a fucking prison.