Taken out of context… most of these just sound wrong. /dies
Note: The character’s name is Xastrian. However, the X is so close to the C that… my fingers just kept going, and hilarity happened in the forms of Castrate, Castrian, and Xastrate. These are all of the Castrate quotes that I found in one of my saved PDFs that I resurrected from before I did edits to replace all the mistakes in his name.
Time stretched on as Castrate fought to find things to fill his mind with, and occupy his hands.
Castrate swallowed hard…
The last was said with a pointed glance at Castrate that made him feel small.
Castrate clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.
“Do not ever shy away from me like that,” Castrate said softly. “It breaks my heart when you do.”
“Good gods,” Castrate croaked as he wallowed in agony, clutching at his ruined groin. “I will never father children…”
Castrate snorted. “Unfortunately, you have no needle and thread.”
Castrate focused on his hands, his eyes wavering.
Velithor grinned. “Castrate… that suits you,” he said. “Though, I must admit, you aren’t half as scary and mean as the rumors say.”
He must have imagined it, because Velithor giggled and hugged Castrate tighter.
It took all Castrate had to roll onto his stomach and crawl over.
The hunter did his best to crawl out of the embrace, but Castrate was somehow too strong.
Wetting the moss, Castrate worked at the blood stains.
He pushed Castrate into a kneeling position.
He reached for Castrate’s jaw and tilted his head back as far as it would go. The next instant, something plopped onto his head and Castrate wrinkled his nose. Deciding it best he closed his eyes, he did so and just let it happen.
Castrate looked down at Velithor’s pants and wrinkled his nose. “This is not going as planned.”
Castrate could only imagine the horrified look on the younger elf’s face.
“Shush, darling,” Castrate whispered. “Shush. It’s alright.”
“Your ploys will not work on me, Castrate.”
“Your answer is wrong!” Castrate growled.
He turned an impish grin on Castrate and laughed as he shucked his ruined vest and shirt, tossing them aside.
Rearing back, Castrate punched him in the head so hard his knuckles hurt, and was rewarded with Velithor’s limp body hitting the floor with a thud.
Lurir did not yet know that command, so instead of lying down, he licked the spot where Castrate pointed and wagged his tail.
Castrate did not have a very good imagination.
Castrate doubted that if he stopped now, he would be able to begin again.
The flesh under Castrate’s hands began to cool from its fevered state.
“Let go of me, Castrate,” he growled.
Using every ounce of strength he had left, Castrate spun Velithor around and pressed him to the cave wall.
“Come back to me in one piece,” Castrate demanded.
[The bear cubs’] bays were so mournful that Castrate almost felt bad. …Almost.
Castrate wished it were numb.
There was something missing, something important that Castrate could not place.
Shamed, Castrate’s search became frantic.
Castrate stuck his fingers into one of the pits to judge their depth and shuddered.
The spell broke when Castrate spoke.
The erratic stride between footprints showed Castrate’s frustration.
“Oh, babies,” Castrate whimpered.
Castrate sighed and shed his robes.
Castrate stiffened, but sagged again and nodded.
He hoped the small joke would ease the mood, but Castrate only sniffled and nodded.
Sighing, Castrate stuck the green end in his mouth and chewed.
Castrate gagged.
Castrate spat.
“You say that as if I have no dignity,” Castrate sighed.
“Did… did you…” Castrate sputtered, “did you just insinuate what I think you did?”
This was the Castrate that Velithor wanted, the one he craved.
“Oh, he already knows,” Castrate said, his grin growing. “He whined every time I quit. That is what took us so long on returning.”
Castrate desperately wanted to see it again.
“You are really going to enjoy every moment of getting me outside of my comfort zone, aren’t you?” Castrate asked with a nervous chuckle.
Castrate floundered in Velithor’s arms.
Castrate’s toes were curled so tight the knuckles were blanched.
A shamed look crossed Castrate’s features and he looked down.
“Castrate,” Velithor giggled.
Castrate, of course, was still nude.
Nodding, Castrate accepted that and scooted over to watch.
Castrate did not complain, though. Not until he accidentally stabbed his finger mid-stitch.
Before Castrate could think to move, they raced into the black maw of the tunnels.
Castrate had to bite his lower lip to keep from crying out. He hugged his knees tighter.
Oh, Castrate… Velithor mourned.
Deep breaths, Castrate. Slow and deep.
Now, he held castrate against his chest.
Castrate let out another blast.
Where Castrate had hit it, there were no marks.
“I- I am sorry, father,” Castrate said. “It will not happen again.”
“It is decaying?” Castrate asked with a moue of disgust.
By the time he was done, Castrate was already half asleep.
Velithor winced at the betrayal in Castrate’s eyes.
Velithor looked down at Castrate then and quirked a brow.
Another blast knocked Castrate off his feet.
“I cannot take much more,” Castrate gasped.
One after another pounded Castrate until he fell to his knees.
It was so powerful that it sent both Castrate and Velithor flying across the cave.
The smell of burnt flesh wafted to Castrate’s nose and gagged him.
When he looked over, Castrate paled. All of Velithor’s knives levitated off the ground.
Her howl of pain sent shivers down Castrate’s spine.
“Castrate, remove your robes and lie on the floor, face down.”
Castrate chuckled and settled in for pets.
“Do you not like it?” Castrate asked, teasing.
“I think someone is eager to get home,” Castrate snorted.
He didn’t feel that sensation, and Castrate turned a confused scowl on him.
Castrate kissed his cheek. “Come! I have a surprise for you.”