[Sexy imagery]
He holds you with hands that could easily hurt. They tangle in your hair, cradling your skull in a way that makes you feel delicate and fragile. He holds you close while he kisses you, but you know that he could just as easily shift them a few inches and wrap them around your neck until you stopped breathing. You sometimes suspect that he might yet, even though he has promised to stop the pain and death that you know he's brought to so many others. You're fractured, but not enough to foolishly believe that you're enough to stop him for good. But maybe, just maybe, for a short while. You're willing to trade yourself for that sort of lull of safety for others.
He's taking you away, giving you the freedom you so desperately want. More than that, you've fallen a little bit in love with him. You haven't said so, but he's certain to already know. How could he not? Your words twist around into ribbons of thought, but your actions have kept you by his side. More than that, they currently keep you under his body as he moves above you. Into you. You gasp at the pleasure, at the roll and rumble of his voice in your ear that skitters along your spine to warm and turn low in your stomach. He calls you his little one, makes promises, tells you things no one else has, and the affection, whether true or feigned, causes you to gasp. You've known him for so short a time, but he's already able to read your body, slipping fingers to places that yearn for them. You reach for him, longing to hold him and cling to him, but his hands move again, capturing your wrists with ease and pinning them above your head. Your entire body shivers, laid out under him, unable to move more than a simple rock of your hips, and when you tip your head back, he bites at your neck. It draws out a cry from you that he finally captures with a kiss, and the feel of breath and lips cause you shake apart as the pleasure hits you.