He guides us toward the bed; I take control back, taking his hint and carrying on with it. I lay him down, letting him move himself as much as he bothers to. Not like I'm going to make it easy on him - my mouth is at his neck the whole way, and as I lower myself down over him as he lays back on the pillows, my teeth settle down into a firm, not quite gentle bite straight around his windpipe. His chin is tipped back, and the tip of my tongue traces little wet lines between the points of my fangteeth, pressing in just enough to dimple his skin.
He makes me feel feral, mindless with want and fixation on him. I barely have breath or thought for much else, and certainly not anything that doesn't account for him in at least some way, whenever we're in the same room. When we're like this...
...well, bites and bruises and wrenching force and clenching fists and more, all of it, it's heavenly.
I kneel above him, releasing his neck, watching the hunger in his eyes as I quickly work open his pants, yanking them down and off of his body. I jam one shoulder under the fold of his knee, forcing it up til his thigh presses his ribcage and he's laid open and delectable under me. My fingers go to his entrance immediately, rubbing lightly, taunting. My other hand's at my own trousers, working the laces clumsily, hurrying too much.
I have to swallow before I can speak, which is irritating. His own unsteady voice a moment ago makes it somewhat less embarrassing, though.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-11-22 03:44 am (UTC)He makes me feel feral, mindless with want and fixation on him. I barely have breath or thought for much else, and certainly not anything that doesn't account for him in at least some way, whenever we're in the same room. When we're like this...
...well, bites and bruises and wrenching force and clenching fists and more, all of it, it's heavenly.
I kneel above him, releasing his neck, watching the hunger in his eyes as I quickly work open his pants, yanking them down and off of his body. I jam one shoulder under the fold of his knee, forcing it up til his thigh presses his ribcage and he's laid open and delectable under me. My fingers go to his entrance immediately, rubbing lightly, taunting. My other hand's at my own trousers, working the laces clumsily, hurrying too much.
I have to swallow before I can speak, which is irritating. His own unsteady voice a moment ago makes it somewhat less embarrassing, though.
"Mabe."