He lies under me, spread wide, ready to take...
...more of me. Even more than I give him already. There's pain in his eyes. Pain. And something else. For someone his age he knows entirely too much about pain. And he accepts it. The act itself is silent. My weight pressing him into the mattress, opening him. No hiss of pain. No grunt of pleasure. I wonder who took him before me. And when. He knows too well when to relax what as that I can be his first. I can't help it. I grind him into the silken sheeted mattress burying into his semi-conscious flesh with all my weight that would crush anyone else. Anyone. But him. "Now." It's the only word to be said all time as I prepare to push him again. Deeper. All of me inside of him. It nearly cajoles him over the edge. Senses aflare. His eyes clouded. Distant. Gone in sensual overload. Does she know he has a silk fetish? That he is almost out of it the moment he touches the expanse of it that is the sheets? Is that how she gets him into bed? Or is that how I get him here – Spreadeagled. Forceless. Careful not to show fangs – to subdue him? As he is now. Subdued. Intimidated. Perfect. Capable of ripping my throat out if he weren't. A dog I could take by the throat, him I have to take otherwise. Submit. Or... He whimpers, licking my throat. Dangerous that but he's too far out of it to think of his teeth over my cariotids. He archs under me forcing me deeper inside of him. Something nobody else would manage with the weight of the bionics on top of him. Then he collapses. Out of it. Mine.