Dim lights. A hungry look. Instruction to disrobe, quickly. An anguished shout; too quickly. Slow down. Take my time. I comply. Watches as I undress. Never blinks. His eyes, hard, like his member. Intense. Exuding heat. Try to breathe. Can't. He stares. Confesses what he wants. Me. My mouth. On him, right now. Move forward, arm taken by his hand. My chin in his grip. Participate in the kiss. Taste him with my tongue. Feel teeth on my lip, pulling lightly. Scrape nails down his chest. His hands at my shoulders, pushing away. No, not away. I misunderstood; down. Of course.
Bend my knees. Lower myself before him. Take it in hand. Study his manhood, eye to eye. It weeps thickly. I do as bidden. Extend my tongue, taste the emerging fluid. Allow him entry into my mouth. Kneel there. Look up at him when instructed. Feel hands on my head. Hair winding into his grasp. Thrusts with increased vigour. My tongue lies flat. Open my throat. Hear him groan. Smell him when he holds still. Pubic curls itch my nose. My performance satisfies him. He withdraws. My jaw aches. I'm pulled up. Kissed enthusiastically. Invited to sit with him.
His legs hang off the bed. I climb on top of him. He holds his penis steady. Watches as I penetrates myself with it. Moans in delight. Holds me to him. I sigh quietly. Circle my arms about his neck. His hips move beneath me. Feel it moving inside. A familiar motion. In, out. Up, down. Bolin's heavy breathing, telling me how pleasing it feels. How warmly I clasp him. The way he will disturb the foundations of my reality. Dirty talk, they call it. I do not reciprocate. My interpretation of the activity scares him.
He rises. I hold on. Feel the strength in his arms and shoulders. I am thin and light, effortless to carry. Bolin stands, instructs me to watch. Mouth hangs open. Pants while thrusting into me. Our flesh claps with his fervour. I look between my thighs. Watch his hips pull back. Feel emptiness. Then fullness. Something crawling over my skin, like sparks, like fire. Hear a breath catch, mine. My fingers curl into his hair. Tighter, when Bolin thrusts harder. Hide my face in his shoulder. Feel it trying to escape, a guttural shout. Like an animal. Clench my teeth. No.
Thrown onto the bed. He stands over me. Try to rise. Pushed back down. Turned over. Penetrated. Hands on my hip. Then my back. Shoulders forced down, face flat. And he drives into me. Hard. Again and again. Crosses wrists behind my back and uses me. Can't think. Can't breathe. More. My body is gratified. Very much so. Reach down, find my penis erect and hot. Almost groan when I touch it. Bolin takes hold of my hair. Pulls me up. Curves his hand around my throat. Takes me in hand himself.
I'm captive. Panting as I'm claimed. Bolin growls. Makes known his territory. Wants to hear me. Wants me to give in. I want to. I want to, oh. Don't, ungh, do this to me, Bolin. Please. But in tandem he pleasures me. Tugs insistently on my penis. Thrusts his own deep into me. Frequently gyrates his hips against mine. And I can resist no longer. I loose my voice.
"Spirits, yes! Plunder my forbidden entrance, you lowly earthen peasant. Behold, my pleasure is cresting!"
Long afterwards, Bolin stops laughing. We both agree. My dirty talk needs practice.