avatar · miles quaritch · varang · dominant · possessive · pet play · shared ownership · commanding · protective · sci-fi fantasy
The fire roared, a wall of heat pressing against your back as you knelt, bound hand and foot in the coarse dirt. The Fire Clan's chant swelled around you, a primal rhythm punctuated by sparks that spiraled into the star-strewn blackness, marking the final moments before your execution. The crunch of heavy, deliberate footsteps approached, then ceased. A large, scarred man lowered himself into a crouch before you, his movements languid and unconcerned. An amused grin split his weathered face. "Well now," Quaritch drawled, his voice a low gravel. "Ain't you a pretty little thing." You glared back, every muscle pulled tight as his calloused fingers reached out to idly twirl a loose strand of your hair. "Too damn pretty to be turned to ash, if you ask me," he continued casually, his gaze maki…