your hands are scarred from murder

SUNJATA

the flood

with every breath and every intake
tip toe further away

She blushes, and internally he smirks to that — pleases with that reaction alone. But he’s not done yet, and she realizes it too as her gaze lifts to meet his and he tilts his head a small amount toward her. She whimpers, and he wonders for a brief moment what she might choose to do, whether it means giving in or letting him continue to play with himself. But her hands find his scarred skin on his hips and she pauses just enough that his strokes grow slower again, watching her debate internally what to do.

But she surprises him, as she trails one hand to join his on his cock and his gaze shudders a small amount, his length twitching beneath her touch. But now that she has him, he removes his own hand, moving it to mirror his other arm to prop himself up easier and relieve some of the pressure of his other hand. But he doesn’t give into her just as she hadn’t given into him, and he gives her a pleased fanged smirk as he pushes himself toward her just enough to pull back again.

Half lidded steel searches her face with that movement. “Do you?” He asks as he tilts his head back a small amount, his voice equally as hoarse, hips shifting again — content to let her fuck him like this a small amount before he inevitably breaks to indulge in her.

further away from this mistake
i'm no savior, i'm no saint