Ode to Him

Transcript

You look at me, through me, not like you would at just anyone, but like prey. Across crowded spaces, when you raise your head and eyes and spy me, connecting with mine. It's as though you can manipulate time itself, it slows to a crawl in that moment.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes locked on and the corners of your mouth lift, those full, delicious lips I love having against mine so much. Those deceptive lips, hiding sharp teeth and a strong jaw, hell-bent on biting down, locking together around my nipple. Oh, I wish they'd come down across my shoulder, but you don't always give me what I want because it's not about me, and I like that.

You've come to realise by now, that what is about me, is you. If I can feel like I'm helping you feel good, then my job is done. I consent to you taking me, when you like, as you like, and within moments of us being alone, you take me.

Lips on me, stripping fabric from my form. Unwrapping me, as you would a gift, destroying the packaging in the process. Bending me over, seeing how many different ways you can fuck into my holes.

Raw power hoisting me up, making me feel hungered for, desired, wanted, needed in that instant. Lips upon mine, pushing, devouring, biting, always nipping. Wrapping your tongue around mine, sensing with hands, fingers, cock.

Your whole body becomes an extension of your dick, searching for ways to have me, claim me. Pulling at my hair and wrenching my head back, primal and hungry. Breeding me, fucking into me and forcing me down onto my knees, so you can fuck into my mouth, after being buried in my arse.

And I don't say a word of complaint. I don't say no. I behave and do as you want me to, because I know depravity will please you.

I have nothing to complain about. Getting just as heated as you over the things you'd have me do. Tasting the familiar parts of you and I combined and making my head spin.

Fingers making me wet, gush, flood, push deeply into my mouth. The metallic taste of manly fingers and my own neck too sweet and heady. I suck them clean, eager to please.

You're quiet. Always so quiet when we fuck. You have this smile, where your lips literally curl at the corner.

And you poke your tongue out in what seems concentration, but could also be recognised as sheer hunger. Brainless, dire, need beyond all rhyme and reason. The look you get behind your eyes sends me into a deep subspace.

Just from looking at me. Because you've trained me so well to feel you without even noticing. You've trained me so well to feel you without even touching me.

When you look at me like that, your dark eyes penetrating every part of me, I am moments from coming. Shadows hiding dark, devilish, sordid urges. Take me, corrupt me, transform me from the functional adult into a mess of bodily fluids and fucked holes.

Marked flesh and seared skin. When you look at me like that, my nipples hurt without you laying a finger on me. Because they know what's coming.

You raise my clothing and leave me naked. You reach to caress, softness, light, gentle. Your lips against mine.

Then you pinch down hard and it's here, in this moment, that when I have my hand around you, I can feel you suddenly get harder under my fingers. My pain is your pleasure. Cover me in hot little droplets.

Wave of your hands as you move around my body like some dark sorcerer, wax from coloured candles dripping at your command. Little hardened flakes forming, later to be scraped off with a blade from a large knife. Like some sort of close shave.

Cutting back the top layer of who I am. Brushing off the cleanse. Leaving the untouched, deeper dermal layers open to the world.

Raw nerves still under your protection, for now at least, until we part ways. And then the hurting really begins. The tickle of hardened waxed flakes being brushed off my back, making me tingle.

I am completely yours in that moment. Obedient, breathing deeply. Focused on making sure you're enjoying yourself and using me.

For my purpose is to be used by you. Bent over me on crisp white linen. On knees hunched over like a demon, stretching me to capacity with your fingers.

Almost an entire hand inside me. Pushing up, hard, flicking, curling, pressing against my walls. Hair over your face like some type of animal.

Fists wrapped around your cock, tugging madly and overstimulating. Finishing in a flourished presentation of your cum-covered fingers to my mouth. Where I gratefully lap any thick stringy remnants you present me with up.

I am grateful. I want more. I am insatiable.

You wrap your fingers around my neck and you growl into my ear. Bite me more. Dear God, bite me! A sharp, hard, fast slap issued to my rear flanks, stinging sweetly and wishing for more, always more.

I can't get enough of you. But I need to rest from you afterwards as you leave a path of delicious destruction in your wake. I can still feel you under my nails.

I can still breathe you in. I still flinch when fabric brushes my nipples, awaiting a firm pinch, a bite, that smile. Before crying out and feeling your shaft.

Pulsate and thicken under my fingers and under my hand.