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He always moaned when I touched him. I would tell him to be quiet – we couldn’t get caught. We were breaking the rules. Oh, but being wrong felt so right. The sensation his moans were giving me drove me mad, drove me on. I kissed him to stop the noise, my hands traveling down past his waist once again, making him dig his nails farther into my back. The pain drove me on, the masochist in me screaming for more.I wouldn’t let him make a sound, sucking the air out of his lungs as I kissed him. His hushed panting grew louder and louder as he writhed under me. I wished I could let him scream and moan to his heart’s content but that was impossible.
We could not be heard, we could not be caught.
He was so tight and perfect. I would have stayed forever in his wonderful, soiled virginity, if only he had let me. At first, he cried over the pain. His tears ran down his cheeks like miniature crystalline waterfalls. I kissed them away, loving the flavor of salt and water mixed with the taste of his beautiful skin. After minutes had passed, however, he began to whimper softly, reaching up and tugging on my hair – urging me forward.
The motion was fluid, perfect, and silent. Every moment, every stroke was planned and set into action with precise timing. As I entered him, again and again, he bit his lip harder and harder – never making a sound. The sight of the blood running down his perfect, bruised lips angered me and I moved faster, licking the offending red liquid away, the copper taste filling my mouth. It still, however, tasted of him, tasted of him and I swallowed greedily.
He belonged to me. Everything that was his was, in turn, mine as well. My perfect puppet. Mine.
He finally lost the game of who fell over the edge first, covering the space between us with his essence. Still moving within him, I tasted the beautiful, perfect flavor that was him and him alone.
Finally, I filled the voice that kept us form being complete and full upon him, breathing heavily myself. He smiled up at me, his golden hair pooling onto the ground underneath him, glistening with sweat.
I looked down at him through tired eyes.
‘You’re mine.’ I told him. ‘You are mine.’
 onnamiko · Fri Feb 16, 2007 @ 09:25pm · 0 Comments |
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