#Whose hand graspeth thy leash indeed

[justagaycryptid]

Tarnished Dog

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

"Whose hand graspeth thy leash, I wonder?" The Tarnished is left wondering this themselves, and when they meet again, has what appears to be a collar around their neck. They offer him the sturdy cord attached to it, and he guffaws at them. "Or perhaps... thy will is thy own???"

Morgott's chuckle is deep and promising. He looks at the leash and then the Tarnished in a manner that could only be described as dark and ravenous.

"Thou'rt clever indeed to know where thy path lay," he grasps it and tugs slightly, bringing the Tarnished closer. The king's voice drops lower, hoarse with temptation and promise. "...With who thy path lay," He tugs once more, and twin desires are pressed against each other.

"...Mine. Thou'rt mine, little Tarnished. Mine to command. Mine to pleasure. Mine to corrupt."