The confused hurt only grows, staring at Huaisang in a sort of helpless disbelief. Was this what his good work amounted to? A prize for another’s good behavior? He briefly considers trying to appeal to Dirk’s humanity, but... Well, he’s not sure how much of that there might be to appeal to. Besides, with the way he seems eager to begin this, Meng Yao doubts he’s going to get far.
He wants to scream that the outfit isn’t the problem here, and he stares at Huaisang like he’s never seen him before.
Of course, the second Dirk moves, Meng Yao springs into action himself. The shape shifting is horrifically fascinating, but he’s quick to try and get away—which only manages to help in knocking him off balance when the teeth close on his clothes. He grits his teeth as he’s pulled to the ground, fingers scrabbling against it as he tries to get up, the fabric tearing off of him easily. He still has underwear on underneath, something gauzy and flimsy that he tolerates only with the assumption that—usually—it’ll never be seen. He tries one last effort to swing a leg out to try and kick him off, before he’ll resign himself a little to looking for another opportunity.
He’d never been a fan of being injured or even using outright violence, preferring to bide his time for the right moment to try and escape. Hopefully.
"Oh, Yaoyao," Huaisang scolds, tone calm and measured as the two of them begin to scrabble. "Don't look at me like that. This isn't a punishment. This is a lesson. A reminder. You've been very good lately, but it's important for you to remember how bad you've been in the past. How much worse you deserve. Besides, a part of you enjoys being frightened. Helpless. Forced. Don't think I hadn't noticed."
The soft side of Huaisang's heart aches and flutters a little as he oversees this. Cruelty doesn't come naturally to him, and only Meng Yao ever brings it out in him because of the vast loathing Huaisang possesses for him and his crimes. But Huaisang, too, has been mostly quite well behaved since Meng Yao arrives, and a part of him needs to let loose, to see Meng Yao terrified and weeping.
"You'll have to forgive me a little bit of temper tantrum, A-Yao. Seeing Xichen fawning over you, so eager to dismiss your patricide. Infanticide. Fratricide--how many counts on that one, Yaoyao? Six? Ten? You did have so many siblings. Are you going to beg? How many of your victims begged?"
Huaisang is not his summoner. He is not the one bound by blood and ritual to be the demon's master, but he might as well be for how the demon responds.
There is humanity in there somewhere, but while he is consumed with protective rage and the need to serve as he was created to do, it is put away on a far, far shelf. The way the beast snarls in Meng Yao's face now, snapping his teeth (far too many for an animal and that number seems to be growing) to punctuate Huaisang's words, he acts as if he is merely an extension of his master's hatred.
His breath hitches and he goes still, eyeing the sharp rows of teeth nervously. He doesn’t know how far either are willing to go—and he doesn’t know how much control Huaisang has over this creature.
Slowly he licks his lips and shifts, flinching at the snap of teeth. Looking between him and Huaisang, he lowers his gaze, not sure if he should or shouldn’t beg. He knows either way he’s not getting out of this unscathed, trying to slowly turn himself so he’s on his back, trying to put some more space between the two of them.
“What do you want me to do?” He finally asks slowly; despite his attempts to keep his voice steady, he’s trembling terribly, and—he hates Huaisang is right in that there’s a spike of arousal to his fear, but he tempers it down forcibly.
"Good boy," Huaisang purrs. It's unclear which of them he's speaking to. They're both doing such a good job, after all. He's very proud.
Coming over to the two of them, Huaisang lets Meng Yao stew while he considers his response. He pets Dirk while he makes them wait, running fingers through his shaggy hair and scratching lightly behind his ears before he bends to plant a sweet kiss on his dog's forehead. "Good puppy."
Then he deigns to look down at Meng Yao. "You are being good, Yaoyao. I'm pleased. Would you like to be fucked?"
Bending, Huaisang tips Meng Yao's chin up a little bit with the end of his fan. "Want him to use you like the bitch you are?"
The hateful snarling only pauses when Huaisang ducks close. The hound doesn't take his eyes off of his trapped prey, but he reins himself in to only a low, hellish growl while his master dotes on him.
Then, Huaisang helpfully exposes more throat for him with a tip of his fan. He can't help but leer in with hungry jaws, inhaling to smell the fear on his prey, breath hot on the neck that he would love to tear into.
He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, watching Huaisang carefully while trying to keep an eye on the hellhound looming over him. He dotes on Dirk like he’s one of Huaisang’s darling birds, not some hellbeast he’s certain would love to rip someones’ throat out—namely, Meng Yao’s right now.
His jaw sets stubbornly as Huaisang tilts his chin up, but the look he gives Huaisang is— Sad. Disappointed, almost, like he’d expected better of him and instead was only let down. His eyes close, briefly, and he takes a breath. No, he wants to say, but what does it matter anyhow? He reopens his eyes and tilts his head up a little further, shivering as Dirk presses in closer. “Do it,” he rasps, his eyes hard and angry and, yes, a little afraid despite his attempts at bravado.
Huaisang watches Meng Yao with cold, distant eyes, as if Meng Yao is nothing but an insect he's considering stepping on.
But he's not cruel, despite how his rage and grief has hardened him, and Meng Yao's look touches his heart. Whether it's genuine or manipulative doesn't entirely matter. Huaisang's letting his temper break his promises, and he's not cruel enough to go through with this.
Sighing, he nuzzles between Dirk's ears, then nudges gently at him. "Let him up, puppy."
Dipping into his qiankun pouch, Huaisang draws out a little gray romper, because he always has a change of clothes on hand, even if it's only lingerie. He tosses it lightly at Meng Yao.
In shock, his ears swing forward and his head lifts, staring at Huaisang. He continues to stare, uncomprehending, as his Dominant even pulls out a change of clothes for this man who he had been angry enough at to sic a hellhound on.
The snarling has stopped, the hound's body language is a little leaned back from his prey, but he doesn't completely let the man up yet. He can't speak in this form, but the look he's giving Huaisang is clearly one of 'are you sure?'
Meng Yao sits up slowly, faintly amused despite himself. “Now who’s the good boy?” He murmurs, reaching out to snatch at Huaisang’s hand instead. Huaisang had always been softer; like Meng Yao, he wasn’t actually much of a fan of violence, though Meng Yao, at least, had been capable of dirtying his own hands on more than one occasion.
“A-Sang. Didn’t you want to punish me?” He presses a kiss to Huaisang’s fingertips, peering up at him with heated eyes. “Ah—Apologies. I mean, ‘teach me a lesson’? Don’t back down on your convictions now.”
And perhaps it was a test of his own. If Huaisang was determined to build him into something new, than he would do the same to Huaisang on occasion. He wanted to show Huaisang how easy it could be to slip further and further if one wasn’t careful, how addicting that power was. He nuzzles his face against Huaisang’s hand.
“But... I’m proud of you, too, for not giving in. It’s what Hanguang-jun and Zewu-jun would have done.”
He feels conflicted abut it too. On one hand, there’s a self-destructive streak in him now that craves it; on the other hand, as much as he wants to drag Huaisang down, he... Also doesn’t? He’s tainted the boy enough, hasn’t he? His expression wavers and he closes his eyes again, leaning his head against Huaisang’s hand. “...Ha... The both of us still have a ways to go, don’t we...”
Huaisang nods a little bit, letting Meng Yao kiss submissively at his fingertips. It wasn't even clear what Meng Yao wanted. Clearly a part of him had wanted this to keep going, wanted the punishment and fear--and, of course, the sex.
Meng Yao's mixed statements gave Huaisang the compromise he needed. Straightening up, face shuttered again into cool elegance, he gathered up the little garment and then waved his fan dismissively at the two of them. "Toss him over your shoulder, puppy. We'll take him home."
By home he means their home, Dirk's home. "You can play with him more there."
Dirk just watches the two of them with such mixed feelings that he is forced to just shut out his own thoughts for a minute and wait for instruction. In this case, it's probably a good thing that he doesn't feel capable of doing much arguing against whoever is in the role of his master, because if he'd interjected here, he has no idea what he would say.
So, he just shuts up until the order is given. Then, he's immediately back into action, and he isn't aiming to be nice about it.
Unless Meng Yao scrambles fast to do it himself, he is going to be "helped" onto the beast's back by being hoisted up with monstrous teeth around his thigh.
Meng Yao was never one to share his feelings about, well, anything. He’d been forced to, once in a while, but overall he found it better to hint at things and see where they went from there. Easier that way in all respects—at least, for him, especially when it came to the idea of plausible deniability.
His grip tightens a little on Huaisang’s hand before he pulls away, a thrill mixing with the fear and he hisses in pain as he’s suddenly forced up by Dirk himself. “That’s—“ He begins, looking humiliated and annoyed; his clothes were still torn to shreds, he could hardly cover himself too effectively like this now that Huaisang’s taken his change of clothes away. But he goes quiet and hides his face away instead, not wanting to be seen.
Huaisang leads the way to Dirk's house, scratching at Dirk's head and ears occasionally but not saying much. When they arrive at the Dog Kennel, Huaisang bends to give him a kiss on the snout, then takes a seat on the couch. He reaches into that magic pouch of his, pulling out a bottle of wine and a little porcelain cup, pouring for just himself. "You may play with him as you like, puppy, and he may beg you for mercy as he likes. I'll interject if I don't like how things are going."
Reaching into his pouch one more time, Huaisang draws out a little glass vial, wiggling it between his fingers. "Yaoyao?"
Dirk practically shakes Meng Yao off of his back when they reach the house, and then he does legitimately shake out his entire pelt as if the man might have left bugs on him once he has gotten down. By the time he's done shaking off, the demon is back to being enormous-dog-sized, which makes moving around furniture much easier.
He sticks close to Huaisang as he moves to the couch, but his eyes never leave their "guest," and he never loses that look of hunger--for violence, destruction, sex, just something after all that drama in the alleyway.
Then, Huaisang once more loosens his proverbial leash, and he begins a slow stalk toward Meng Yao again.
Meng Yao grits his teeth, only letting out a small grunt as he hits the ground, rolling onto his knees immediately. His eyes dart between Huaisang and Dirk, honestly not knowing who’s the bigger threat here at the moment.
The offer of the vial has his stomach twisting and he holds his hand out for it, eyes never leaving Dirk as he does so. “Please,” he murmurs; he has a feeling he’s going to need as much of it as he can get, especially if Dirk can change his size like that. He watches Dirk like a predator in return—just if Dirk is a dog, Meng Yao was a cat.
Huaisang props his chin on his hand once Meng Yao takes the vial, spectating the two of them with interest and enjoying his wine. The compromise situation soothes his guilt, and his temper has calmed, so he can simply enjoy the situation. If Meng Yao gets too upset again, Huaisang can simply toss a garment at him and throw him out, taking Dirk's need for an outlet onto himself for some rough, intense sex. But as long as Meng Yao is willing to play with the edge of his own comfort, Huaisang is excited to spectate.
He sips at his wine, letting the two of them play. For the moment, there's no need for him to interfere.
The monstrous hound does give one final glance back at his keeper, maybe double-checking that this is indeed what he wants, before his attention fixes on his prey again.
He stalks after Meng Yao, herding him away from the safety of walls and toward the center of the space, circling closer as he goes. Hackles raised and a low growl rumbling in his chest, he seems intent on menacing him before he really and truly pounces after him. The sound of loathing in Huaisang's voice and the litany of this man's transgressions still parade clearly through his head, rekindling his own anger.
When he does finally lunge forward, it is with very little warning. Some line of tension in the hound's head simply snaps and he's suddenly rushing forward with a hellish snarl, snapping at Meng Yao's heels.
He could leap and flatten him to the floor in one go, but half the fun is in the chase. Everything is replaceable in this apartment anyway.
Huaisang won’t allow him to be killed, or maimed too horribly—Meng Yao can at least rely (hope) on that. It doesn’t make the fear any less real, however, as he clutches the vial tight in one hand and moves quickly to dodge the incoming lunge.
Meng Yao may not have raw strength on his side, but he’s quick and he’s agile, though the layout of the place means he doesn’t have that to his advantage either. Still he’s quick to dodge and run out of the way, jumping over obstacles to try and keep one jump ahead of him, until Dirk sees fit to stop playing.
It's also unfair that Dirk is not made of real flesh and blood when he doesn't want to be. The dog-shape he's in is a little too flexible, pivots too quickly, and moves too fluidly when he vaults over furniture.
At the tail-end of the chase, when he's really feeling the pursuit of prey and the scent of fear is strong, little licks of flame even begin to flicker over his fur and down his spine. And when the desire to bring his prey to the ground finally wins out, he darts forward to latch his teeth around Meng Yao's ankle as the man goes to flee again, aiming to trip him up and pounce on him once he's down.
He can’t help but feel some concern at that—hopefully he doesn’t have to worry about burns on top of everything else, his heart pounding anew with more fear. His instinct is to try and yank away, but he refrains out of fear for causing any lasting damage to his ankle.
It doesn’t stop him from twisting as he falls, landing on his side so he can kick out with his free leg, teeth gritting against the pain of his hard hit to the floor. His eyes are wild with the desire to get away, but if it looks like something is going to end in worse pain for him—pulling or spraining something—he’ll go still to reassess. Meng Yao isn’t above injuring himself to get away, but he has to be more careful about such a thing here.
Huaisang rolls his eyes indulgently as Meng Yao fights against Dirk. He almost speaks up to remind Meng Yao that this will all go easier if he cooperates, but he already did suggest to Meng Yao that he beg. If he'd rather take pain and be stubborn, who is Huaisang to judge? He sips his tea, enjoying the show the two of them are putting on and not worrying in the least about being so close to the fray.
The demon is snarling with wicked teeth bared as if he means to kill the man, but the bites will only graze and bruise instead of tear him to pieces. Even when Meng Yao gets in a good kick to his face, he only squints one eye closed with an irritated bark instead of flying into a more murderous rage.
The real struggle is in pawing his prey's limbs away, bodily shoving his weight forward, and biting judiciously to get him pinned to the floor without seriously wounding him. It would be much quicker if he was allowed to just kill him.
But murder isn't what his keeper wants, especially inside this nice new home. So, he just terrorizes the man until he has no choice but to give up, at least momentarily.
Meng Yao grits his teeth and, after a good 30 seconds or so of struggling, goes limp, panting softly under him.
“Let me...At least prepare myself,” he manages to get out, holding the vial as tight as he can out of fear of losing it. He has no doubts that Dirk might as well take him dry for all the difference it might make to him, and he has no desire to end up bedridden from this—at least, not because of something like that.
The hound backs off a little, giving his prey a little room to breathe and move, but it could hardly be counted as a reprieve.
Hopefully Meng Yao can work quickly and deftly to get himself as prepared as he wants, because the hound is mostly only moving back so that he can immediately begin shoving at him with his jaws--using teeth if he needs to--and pawing roughly at his body to try and get him to flip over onto his hands and knees.
Whether his prey cooperates or not, he isn't planning on waiting long. The excitement of hunting and powering the man to the ground, knowing that his keeper wants a show, wants to watch his enemy suffer, fills him with a hunger that has him beginning to visibly swell past his sheath, glints of his natural wetness--probably not enough to Meng Yao's preferences--already showing.
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He wants to scream that the outfit isn’t the problem here, and he stares at Huaisang like he’s never seen him before.
Of course, the second Dirk moves, Meng Yao springs into action himself. The shape shifting is horrifically fascinating, but he’s quick to try and get away—which only manages to help in knocking him off balance when the teeth close on his clothes. He grits his teeth as he’s pulled to the ground, fingers scrabbling against it as he tries to get up, the fabric tearing off of him easily. He still has underwear on underneath, something gauzy and flimsy that he tolerates only with the assumption that—usually—it’ll never be seen. He tries one last effort to swing a leg out to try and kick him off, before he’ll resign himself a little to looking for another opportunity.
He’d never been a fan of being injured or even using outright violence, preferring to bide his time for the right moment to try and escape. Hopefully.
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The soft side of Huaisang's heart aches and flutters a little as he oversees this. Cruelty doesn't come naturally to him, and only Meng Yao ever brings it out in him because of the vast loathing Huaisang possesses for him and his crimes. But Huaisang, too, has been mostly quite well behaved since Meng Yao arrives, and a part of him needs to let loose, to see Meng Yao terrified and weeping.
"You'll have to forgive me a little bit of temper tantrum, A-Yao. Seeing Xichen fawning over you, so eager to dismiss your patricide. Infanticide. Fratricide--how many counts on that one, Yaoyao? Six? Ten? You did have so many siblings. Are you going to beg? How many of your victims begged?"
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There is humanity in there somewhere, but while he is consumed with protective rage and the need to serve as he was created to do, it is put away on a far, far shelf. The way the beast snarls in Meng Yao's face now, snapping his teeth (far too many for an animal and that number seems to be growing) to punctuate Huaisang's words, he acts as if he is merely an extension of his master's hatred.
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Slowly he licks his lips and shifts, flinching at the snap of teeth. Looking between him and Huaisang, he lowers his gaze, not sure if he should or shouldn’t beg. He knows either way he’s not getting out of this unscathed, trying to slowly turn himself so he’s on his back, trying to put some more space between the two of them.
“What do you want me to do?” He finally asks slowly; despite his attempts to keep his voice steady, he’s trembling terribly, and—he hates Huaisang is right in that there’s a spike of arousal to his fear, but he tempers it down forcibly.
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Coming over to the two of them, Huaisang lets Meng Yao stew while he considers his response. He pets Dirk while he makes them wait, running fingers through his shaggy hair and scratching lightly behind his ears before he bends to plant a sweet kiss on his dog's forehead. "Good puppy."
Then he deigns to look down at Meng Yao. "You are being good, Yaoyao. I'm pleased. Would you like to be fucked?"
Bending, Huaisang tips Meng Yao's chin up a little bit with the end of his fan. "Want him to use you like the bitch you are?"
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Then, Huaisang helpfully exposes more throat for him with a tip of his fan. He can't help but leer in with hungry jaws, inhaling to smell the fear on his prey, breath hot on the neck that he would love to tear into.
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His jaw sets stubbornly as Huaisang tilts his chin up, but the look he gives Huaisang is— Sad. Disappointed, almost, like he’d expected better of him and instead was only let down. His eyes close, briefly, and he takes a breath. No, he wants to say, but what does it matter anyhow? He reopens his eyes and tilts his head up a little further, shivering as Dirk presses in closer. “Do it,” he rasps, his eyes hard and angry and, yes, a little afraid despite his attempts at bravado.
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But he's not cruel, despite how his rage and grief has hardened him, and Meng Yao's look touches his heart. Whether it's genuine or manipulative doesn't entirely matter. Huaisang's letting his temper break his promises, and he's not cruel enough to go through with this.
Sighing, he nuzzles between Dirk's ears, then nudges gently at him. "Let him up, puppy."
Dipping into his qiankun pouch, Huaisang draws out a little gray romper, because he always has a change of clothes on hand, even if it's only lingerie. He tosses it lightly at Meng Yao.
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The snarling has stopped, the hound's body language is a little leaned back from his prey, but he doesn't completely let the man up yet. He can't speak in this form, but the look he's giving Huaisang is clearly one of 'are you sure?'
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“A-Sang. Didn’t you want to punish me?” He presses a kiss to Huaisang’s fingertips, peering up at him with heated eyes. “Ah—Apologies. I mean, ‘teach me a lesson’? Don’t back down on your convictions now.”
And perhaps it was a test of his own. If Huaisang was determined to build him into something new, than he would do the same to Huaisang on occasion. He wanted to show Huaisang how easy it could be to slip further and further if one wasn’t careful, how addicting that power was. He nuzzles his face against Huaisang’s hand.
“But... I’m proud of you, too, for not giving in. It’s what Hanguang-jun and Zewu-jun would have done.”
He feels conflicted abut it too. On one hand, there’s a self-destructive streak in him now that craves it; on the other hand, as much as he wants to drag Huaisang down, he... Also doesn’t? He’s tainted the boy enough, hasn’t he? His expression wavers and he closes his eyes again, leaning his head against Huaisang’s hand. “...Ha... The both of us still have a ways to go, don’t we...”
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Meng Yao's mixed statements gave Huaisang the compromise he needed. Straightening up, face shuttered again into cool elegance, he gathered up the little garment and then waved his fan dismissively at the two of them. "Toss him over your shoulder, puppy. We'll take him home."
By home he means their home, Dirk's home. "You can play with him more there."
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So, he just shuts up until the order is given. Then, he's immediately back into action, and he isn't aiming to be nice about it.
Unless Meng Yao scrambles fast to do it himself, he is going to be "helped" onto the beast's back by being hoisted up with monstrous teeth around his thigh.
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His grip tightens a little on Huaisang’s hand before he pulls away, a thrill mixing with the fear and he hisses in pain as he’s suddenly forced up by Dirk himself. “That’s—“ He begins, looking humiliated and annoyed; his clothes were still torn to shreds, he could hardly cover himself too effectively like this now that Huaisang’s taken his change of clothes away. But he goes quiet and hides his face away instead, not wanting to be seen.
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Reaching into his pouch one more time, Huaisang draws out a little glass vial, wiggling it between his fingers. "Yaoyao?"
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He sticks close to Huaisang as he moves to the couch, but his eyes never leave their "guest," and he never loses that look of hunger--for violence, destruction, sex, just something after all that drama in the alleyway.
Then, Huaisang once more loosens his proverbial leash, and he begins a slow stalk toward Meng Yao again.
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The offer of the vial has his stomach twisting and he holds his hand out for it, eyes never leaving Dirk as he does so. “Please,” he murmurs; he has a feeling he’s going to need as much of it as he can get, especially if Dirk can change his size like that. He watches Dirk like a predator in return—just if Dirk is a dog, Meng Yao was a cat.
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He sips at his wine, letting the two of them play. For the moment, there's no need for him to interfere.
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He stalks after Meng Yao, herding him away from the safety of walls and toward the center of the space, circling closer as he goes. Hackles raised and a low growl rumbling in his chest, he seems intent on menacing him before he really and truly pounces after him. The sound of loathing in Huaisang's voice and the litany of this man's transgressions still parade clearly through his head, rekindling his own anger.
When he does finally lunge forward, it is with very little warning. Some line of tension in the hound's head simply snaps and he's suddenly rushing forward with a hellish snarl, snapping at Meng Yao's heels.
He could leap and flatten him to the floor in one go, but half the fun is in the chase. Everything is replaceable in this apartment anyway.
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Meng Yao may not have raw strength on his side, but he’s quick and he’s agile, though the layout of the place means he doesn’t have that to his advantage either. Still he’s quick to dodge and run out of the way, jumping over obstacles to try and keep one jump ahead of him, until Dirk sees fit to stop playing.
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At the tail-end of the chase, when he's really feeling the pursuit of prey and the scent of fear is strong, little licks of flame even begin to flicker over his fur and down his spine. And when the desire to bring his prey to the ground finally wins out, he darts forward to latch his teeth around Meng Yao's ankle as the man goes to flee again, aiming to trip him up and pounce on him once he's down.
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It doesn’t stop him from twisting as he falls, landing on his side so he can kick out with his free leg, teeth gritting against the pain of his hard hit to the floor. His eyes are wild with the desire to get away, but if it looks like something is going to end in worse pain for him—pulling or spraining something—he’ll go still to reassess. Meng Yao isn’t above injuring himself to get away, but he has to be more careful about such a thing here.
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The real struggle is in pawing his prey's limbs away, bodily shoving his weight forward, and biting judiciously to get him pinned to the floor without seriously wounding him. It would be much quicker if he was allowed to just kill him.
But murder isn't what his keeper wants, especially inside this nice new home. So, he just terrorizes the man until he has no choice but to give up, at least momentarily.
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“Let me...At least prepare myself,” he manages to get out, holding the vial as tight as he can out of fear of losing it. He has no doubts that Dirk might as well take him dry for all the difference it might make to him, and he has no desire to end up bedridden from this—at least, not because of something like that.
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Hopefully Meng Yao can work quickly and deftly to get himself as prepared as he wants, because the hound is mostly only moving back so that he can immediately begin shoving at him with his jaws--using teeth if he needs to--and pawing roughly at his body to try and get him to flip over onto his hands and knees.
Whether his prey cooperates or not, he isn't planning on waiting long. The excitement of hunting and powering the man to the ground, knowing that his keeper wants a show, wants to watch his enemy suffer, fills him with a hunger that has him beginning to visibly swell past his sheath, glints of his natural wetness--probably not enough to Meng Yao's preferences--already showing.
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