Ahah, Zack's getting laid. o_____O
When it came right to the point, there was one thing I was sure of: he was fucking heavy. I'm was never some whimpering virgin, I've had my share of one-night stands, fuckmates, lovers, whatever the case called for, and not once did I ever worry I'd be crushed to death. I was half-tempted to see if I could even throw him off me when he clamped my wrists to the mattress; his triumphant grin alone was enough of a lame reason to just see if I could.
I swear he smiles with superiority just to make me fight him, that I'd struggle for the freedom to punch him in the jaw and beat the shit out of him. I bet he likes it when they realize they can't get away, because while he is the haughtiest son of a fucking bitch I've ever known, he -was- 1st class....and the training it must've taken to get there.
God save me, I hate it when he simply -looks down at me-; smiling or not, aroused or not, I loathe the way he always has to tower over me, like he's got something to prove. Everyone here stands higher than I do, but none of them so readily remind me of it without words, and he'll do it here, with every look that's -not- meant to infuriate me. It's not enough that I'm in his bed like a toy for usage, he gets to remind me of everything that's wrong and all the differences between us. Soundlessly.
Then he moves.
...I would never, ever admit aloud or written that his boasts hold truth to them, that he -is- good. That it's not just that he's fucking me senseless, it's because -he is-, because he learns eagerly what makes a person border on death, driving them there with methods unique to whoever the hell he's pounding away into. And he's already got me saddled on the damn fence and I dispise that. And I'm not about to self-suggest maybe it's because I spent -years- to myself.
I hate being vocal in the times I'd rather lie quiet. With someone else, moans and groans and whatnot would be better to assert confidence. With him, I want nothing more than to bite my tongue off and bleed to death. But I'm trapped under crude muscle, with my thighs clamped painfully to his waist, one hand clawing what little nails I have into his back and the other woven tightly into his hair, an insurance that he'll keep devouring at my throat.
I hate what caused this, I hate him, I hate what he had in the past, I hate what bonds he's kept since then, I hate how he can do this to me! I hate how the sweat on his chest helps massage my erection, I hate that he can make me pant noisily, I hate that this is him.
I have no end for this hatred of him.
And if that ever changes, I will not only consider drowning myself in the pool, but I will have done so immediately after writing my will.
Which leaves me here, with his cock burning me on the inside and me responding ardently. I could kick myself for letting this happen, but maybe it was for the better?
Perhaps....
He's smiling again, bathing in smug amusement as I rat out my clothing; I won't be wearing them for long, just long enough to get to my room, strip, and scald myself under hot water. Anything to wipe this and the last few times out of my mind again.
Dammit, fling a sheet over yourself so I can glare death at you!
"Sore?"
Rub it in, asshole. I can glare at him now, without the need for cover. "What kind of sick fascination do you get by asking?"
"It's for my ego; it needs feeding," he answers solemnly.
"Feed it pet food then. 'Satisfaction' isn't healthy."
He's still amused, but it changed from smug to sated. And I have to look away now, or I'll blush and if he sees me blush, I may as well be textured to whatever advancements he's going to make on the situation. Blushing also means the proverbial stick-up-my-ass was removed, and there will be nothing but him crowing about that for days to come. Because he did remove it, and I quickly surmise it will be back in five minutes.
Much to my displeasure, it took fifteen.
The product of years wasted and built-up tension; it was bound to happen...or so Zack claims; I agree, and there's now a midget ready to kill me for saying as much. Hallelujah it's only a scratch-my-itch-I'll-scratch-your's deal. X_X