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A crisis in three words

What is a crisis?

When I’m taking you. Hard. Practically skewering you into my bed. Nothing but your hips absorbing my momentum when I pile-drive into your pussy. And you croon at me, with heavy lidded eyes, a word with each thrust: come. inside. me.

“Come inside me.” We haven’t had *the talk*.

That – is a crisis.

Three Words to undo it all, Three Words to discover them. Three Words to bring senses to the edge of release looming behind them.

Woman, are you mad?! The temerity! Do you know my predicament? Every single ounce of my male body, backed by eons of evolution, is primed to claim you with my seed. Not just anyone; *you*! Every act of my love-making is the Feral inside who hungers to tame the Feminine. When I grab your jaw and devour your mouth. When I grasp your hair and bite your neck. When I hold your wrists and fuck your sex. I have chosen you, as you have me. I will mark my possession with swollen lips and bruised thighs.

But for *you* to tell me to mark you! Witch, your invocation stirs deep instinct.

Only reason stands in the way. And how tenuous it is! When you uttered the Words, my mind was a maelstrom. Girl, it was DEFCON 1. It was NATO Article 5. It was a fuckin’ Emergency Special Session of the UN General Assembly!

It is a Herculean effort. I pause, breathless, and plead with your eyes. I can not. I come inside you in the condom. I can feel you milking me for every phantom drop. Your gentle caress on my back while I twitch and moan with the force of my release. Your warm breath tickling my ear as you tame me with sweet whispers.

Have you no mercy, lover? Do you like to see me ache? Perhaps you do. My pain is a love letter, after all. I would know – the hurt you let me give you is your letter to me.

I love that you said the Words. I hate how cruel they were.

NSFW: yes

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