[ He wants to bite down on those fingers, but his jaw is pried open, and he can barely move his mouth, much less bite.

(the tendril, though, the way it rubs against his chin, and the way the liquid it leaves behind sticks, and slides, and burns--he inhales deeply through his mouth as some foreign sensation wells up in the pit of his stomach)

He coughs as the liquid sizzles on his tongue, and burns his gums, but it doesn't hurt. It's... soothing, almost. No, that's not the word he's looking for. It's--relaxing. Making him want to stretch his mouth wider for it.

He may be naive about the way his human body works, but. This. He knows how to put the pieces together. He knows it's not good (but he doesn't know why), but that's warning enough for him to want to expel it.

He coughs and exhales, tries to blow the fluid out of his mouth, and pulls against the appendages holding his wrists. He won't stand to just be toyed with like this, while he doesn't fight. His pride suffers.

(he won't be mist's pretty pet)

(he's a dragon, too wild to be tamed, and a star, too hot to touch and too bright to look at)

(and black mist's enveloping darkness is too weak to snuff out his light) ]