You knew you wanted this.
How warm his breath feels, coming in ragged gasps against the back of your neck. How strong his hands are, one twisted up and fisted in your hair, exposing your throat... how sweet his tongue feels against your skin as he's tasting the sweat glimmering in the moonlight. How blissfully forceful he is, giving you exactly what you need... exactly what you crave. He's all around you. He's all you hear, he's all you smell, he's all you feel. You knew from the moment he slammed you up against the wall, the silver tinkling of his belt being opened, his hand grasping your painfully hard cock through your pants... you wanted this.
The dock is quiet. Every breath, every movement is as deafening as a thunderclap... the anticipation of it all twists your stomach into uncomfortable knots, your blood beats hard and fast
how you like it
every nerve like a live wire, waiting... waiting.
He grabs your collar and it's a sweet release. You moan as he forces his tongue past your lips
it's not enough
and pushes you back into the dark recesses of the alley. He wants you to scream. He wants you to beg for it. He wants it every bit as badly as you do. Every brief meeting of eyes across a crowded inn, every brush against his arm sending shock waves of desire through your loins has finally come down to this - a soiled alley behind a Ironmonger's stall on a deserted dock in the middle of the night. The sounds of the inn fade away as you lose yourself in him, the ocean lapping endlessly away at the wharf turns silent, the seconds slowing, melting away as your lips move in complete synchronization, his tongue... urgent, desperate, plunges and wraps around yours in a slippery ballet. It's perfect... it's
too
gentle.
harder...faster
His hands are on your chest, pushing you away from him... they're on your shoulders, forcing you down to your knees... they're in your hair, giving you no room to breathe as he's grinding against your face. You feel it. Up against your cheek, up against your swollen lips
just one taste
With one hand holding your head back, he slaps you. Rocking you back onto your heels, the bitter, rusted taste of blood blossoming over your tongue, sliding down your throat and as you look back up at him, he knows. You're nothing but transparent... he sees it in your eyes, the silent pleading... how you grip the sides of his hips, begging to feel his hard cock up
inside
against you. He likes it. You're nothing but a toy.
He'll tear you apart.
