[ the bruising pace he sets catches rey off guard. she had always demanded more out of him, in their previous encounters. probed at the parts of him that he hid from her, those starving, possessive corners of himself that were full of rage. she'd tried to draw them out and largely failed. she always took from him, always pushed at him.
now he takes her off balance. rey's elbows slip out from under her where she tries to prop herself up. the hold he keeps on her firm, her back arches, and she rattles in his grip. she scrambles to get a grip on something to steady herself. her hand flies overhead, planting on the wall of the narrow cupboard that she'd lived in for months, but he's solid and persistent and she's not quite tall enough for it to give her meaningful leverage.
and beyond that, there is the fervor. he doesn't need her to gain leverage. holding her to him, bending her into form, comes easily to him like this. the erratic bouncing of her meager breasts grows almost painful, but it's a pale shadow of the bruising grip of his claws. they dig in. she'll spill blood on these sheets when they separate, if she hasn't already. the empathy bond burns between them, and his hunger runs across it. driving every thrust. home, he'd called her, and he roots himself inside of her as if that could not be more true.
but she doesn't want it to stop. he is a monster. he always has been. this is the way it should feel, when they're together. it is more honest than any other time they've taken comfort in one another, and when she forces her eyes open to look on him, she gives up on reaching the wall. instead, she grips one of his arms, her other hand searching for his face and settling for his chest, then his abdomen. upright, he's too far from her.
inside of her, though, he is almost gentle. the size of him seems to bore a hole in her, yes, but he is slick and smooth and the undulating motion makes her toes curl. the juxtaposition gets her quicker than she can expect. there's no preparing herself for intimacy with the thing he's transformed into. her ending barrels into her, and she cries out as it hits, wringing him as her legs twitch and tremble. ]
no subject
now he takes her off balance. rey's elbows slip out from under her where she tries to prop herself up. the hold he keeps on her firm, her back arches, and she rattles in his grip. she scrambles to get a grip on something to steady herself. her hand flies overhead, planting on the wall of the narrow cupboard that she'd lived in for months, but he's solid and persistent and she's not quite tall enough for it to give her meaningful leverage.
and beyond that, there is the fervor. he doesn't need her to gain leverage. holding her to him, bending her into form, comes easily to him like this. the erratic bouncing of her meager breasts grows almost painful, but it's a pale shadow of the bruising grip of his claws. they dig in. she'll spill blood on these sheets when they separate, if she hasn't already. the empathy bond burns between them, and his hunger runs across it. driving every thrust. home, he'd called her, and he roots himself inside of her as if that could not be more true.
but she doesn't want it to stop. he is a monster. he always has been. this is the way it should feel, when they're together. it is more honest than any other time they've taken comfort in one another, and when she forces her eyes open to look on him, she gives up on reaching the wall. instead, she grips one of his arms, her other hand searching for his face and settling for his chest, then his abdomen. upright, he's too far from her.
inside of her, though, he is almost gentle. the size of him seems to bore a hole in her, yes, but he is slick and smooth and the undulating motion makes her toes curl. the juxtaposition gets her quicker than she can expect. there's no preparing herself for intimacy with the thing he's transformed into. her ending barrels into her, and she cries out as it hits, wringing him as her legs twitch and tremble. ]