For a moment, all you can do is stare, because fuck it, you haven't see him in so long and jesus he was still as tall as fuck and-
Unfortunately for you, he has better reaction time, even now. You shouldn't be surprised, really, he always has. It takes all but a second for him to grasp one of your too-big horns and yank you closer to him until you both are nose-to-nose.
"It's been too long." Venom drips from his tone.
"Fuck you." You rasp in reply to the Highblood, because suddenly you're angry as hell and the hate you're feeling is nothing shy of kismesistude. He's the enemy now, or at least he was, and the past is in the past and you can't do much about that. "Get the fuck off of me."
Instead, he yanks you even closer to himself, and suddenly your mouth is filling with your own blood as he bites down hard, and you bite back. It's different, now, more different than it was after you left. That was ill-disguised longing- this was hate, hate that made you want to claw your once-matesprit open and watch him bleed and make him scream your name.
You knew he resented you now, for what you did. It's the same from your end really. You supported one of his worst enemies (not to mention took off without a word and without a goodbye); he helped kill your revolution.
Your hands find his chest and you rake your claws downward, causing him to hiss into your mouth and pull back to glare at you and you can't help but smirk back. His expression worsens and he pushes you backwards and you stumble across the floor until your feet are taken out from under you and you land somewhere soft and low down (though your wings still protest from the landing)- pile of clothes, maybe? You realize then that this is his room from back when you two weren't nine solar sweeps old, and try to ignore the blood on the walls and the realization that he clothes you landed on most likely weren't his.
"You've gotten bolder, Summi." He pronounces the nickname mockingly, where it was once something more of endearment.
You don't have any time to reply before he's on top of you and his tongue is slithering into your mouth and everything is teeth, claws, and the most heated anger you ever felt.
And maybe a little nostalgia.
You don't know when your pants decided to go missing, just that they did. His joined not long after, you made sure of that.
And then, you're lost to the heat. You both are, still lost in profanities even as he fucks you into the dirty, blood-stained clothes bearing the symbols of trolls long-gone. It's almost funny, actually, how familiar and alien the whole situation is. When you're both laying there, panting, and he's nearly crushing you (but at that point, it was the least of your worries), you reminisce. What more can you do?
You start to wonder if you really want this. You start to wonder if all that history could really be swept away with a slash of a claw. Then again, there's Mindfang. You met Mindfang after you joined the revolution, and you can admit to have once flushing for her, yet you can say the same about the Grand Highblood.
You are the Summoner, and, holy hell, you're confused.