( Javert doesn't say a word as he's thrown over the creature's shoulder, lifted up as if his weight meant nothing to him, as if he were some child or a cripple unable to walk on his own. It sends a shiver running straight down his spine, a hint of arousal that would have meant a bit more if Javert were not so recently sated. He worries about the cloak, the blood that trickles from the claw marks onto the fabric. It's a kindness that frustrates Javert as much as it charms him. Why do such a thing? Care for him, treat him with dignity? )
Where are you taking me?
( He grunts, before his thoughts begin to spiral into something that seem preposterous. Javert lays against his shoulder with struggling, face burning with shame from the indignity of being carried, and the pleasure of having that thick body and well-muscled arm holding him in place. )
no subject
Where are you taking me?
( He grunts, before his thoughts begin to spiral into something that seem preposterous. Javert lays against his shoulder with struggling, face burning with shame from the indignity of being carried, and the pleasure of having that thick body and well-muscled arm holding him in place. )