The trailer smelled of cigarette smoke when you stepped into it. The smell is the first thing you noticed, always, and the second thing is the curve of his lips when he sees you. You know what every infinitesimal angle of his lips means, whether the amusement is born out of frustration or resignation, if the curl speaks of tamped down happiness or bitten-back disgust. And you know without a doubt that he's irate because of something involving his mother so you know to approach the situation with caution or else he might scream at you.
But looking into those eyes is like coming home. It's like falling into a warm bath when he's happy, satisfied with himself, and like standing outside in a blizzard, lost and dying of cold, when he's angry. Sometimes you wondered if everyone can read him the way you can.
Lately, the parabola of his mouth and the look in his eyes has puzzled you. They're contemplative, a little, but more than that, they look as though they long for something that even he doesn't know he needs - and it is a need, not a want, judging by the desperate gleam you sometimes saw when the light hits his face the right way.
The light in his trailer, today, right now, as you walk in and inhale the remnants of smoke that clung to him, highlights the need written in his eyes, the yearning at the edges of his lips, and when he sees you and smiles, the quick of his mouth isn't enough to wipe any of it away.
You take him in, the mussed-up hair, the wind-burned cheeks, the glittering gleam of the crinkles 'round his eyes and mouth, and close the door behind you.
"Did I come in at a bad time?" you asked with a slight frown.
"No," he started with a small smile before it quickly died just as fast as it came, "the fucking whore just left, no worries."
"Good," you said before swallowing a gulp, "smells awful in here, like her."
"No shit," he hissed, and you know it's not you he's angry at, rather it's his mother. "Let's not talk about her before I end up vomiting," he added.
"Right," you found yourself staring down at your shoes the second you sat down next to him, at a loss for words of what to say because you never knew what was the right thing when it came to his mother. It was a very sore subject to say the least.
"You miss me?" he asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him by it.
"Yes I did, I was wondering when were were going to have some time together," you uttered with a soft smile.
"I might have missed you too, just maybe," he jested with a loud laugh, "I definitely don't miss when you're quiet like this, though."
"Well, I-" you started but he cut you off before you could even finished.
"I know what will get you to talk," he said with a impish smirk before his lips ran over your jaw, ever so gentle, ever so careful. You could have been of glass, of finest porcelain, with his fingers just barely touching your upper arms, his mouth laying butterfly kisses to your skin. Your breath went slightly rugged, your palms a little damp from the sweat that built up from your anxious state.
You smiled against his cheek and nuzzled his auburn hair. Gently you pushed his chin up with two of your fingers and kissed his lips. You felt how his body tensed and suddenly the room around you seemed to vibrate with nothing but the sound of your mingling breaths, the rustling of your clothes, and the sound of his lips he made when he pressed them together for a second.
You could smell his body so close to your own, could feel the warmth of his body on your skin, how his dark eyes slowly grew hard and cold. At that you shivered, and for a second you bit your lower lip, before you nodded slightly, signaling him that you were ready.
A low thud sounded through the trailer when he pushed you against the wall, and pain ran from your shoulder down to your tailbone. You winced when his mouth found yours in a forceful kiss, his teeth scraping against your lower lip before he pushed your jaw open with one hand, the other pulling your shoulder back against the wall.
You could feel the tips of his fingers pressing into your flesh, bruising your skin, as his tongue made its way into your mouth, thick and suffocating. Your jaw burned from his relentless grip, and you shivered as his heavy body pushed against yours, trapping you between him and the wall.
"I did miss you," he finally said with a softer tone in his voice before that grin crept up on his face again. You giggled softly in response before he pulled your shoulder forward and pushed it hard against the wall again, grunting into your mouth as your teeth clicked against each other, swallowing your gentle moan.
He slipped away from your mouth, and the hand that had been on your jaw grabbed your hair and pulled your head back as he started to push his lips and teeth against your throat. You felt his lips against your larynx, and you hissed at the burning pain when he yanked your hair harder. He sucked the skin right over your purse into his mouth and worried on it with his teeth for half a minute, while his body rocked against yours, outright humping you from time to time. Your body was pushed against the wall harder again and again, the grip of his hand still painful against your shoulder. You didn't mind one second of it, even though several inches of your body was throbbing, it was worth it coming from him.
When his mouth let go of your throat, he looked you in the eye for a second. You nodded again, just in case that he needed it, and winced again when he yanked you away from the wall by your hair and pushed you in the direction of the cushioned seats. He let you go and pushed again, making you stumble forward. You lost your footing and braced yourself with your hands as you fell, though there was blankets laid out in such a way that you would not hit your shins.
Your knees had hardly touched the seats before he was behind you, grabbing your other shoulder this time and pulling you around to push you onto it, with your feet still on the floor. He nudged your knees apart and leaned forward to take your lips in another kiss, again with a hand on your chin to keep you from turning away. You felt his other hand between your legs, rubbing you roughly through the thin fabric of your dress. You had known those fingers for such a long time, but it was still incredibly exciting to feel them touch you in such a way, wild and raw and rough, so close to actually hurting you.
He let go of your jaw once again, and then his hand was on the neck of your dress, and a ripping noise filled the trailer. He tore your dress open and wrenched it from your body, throwing it to the side, onto the floor, careless. You laid naked before him now, with your legs held open by his knees and your sex dreadfully exposed to his eyes and fingers.
A slapping noise filled the room with his flat hand landed between your legs, and again a whimper wrenched itself between your lips, though you did your best to keep your noises in. The slap left a sharp tingle, and when you felt two of his fingers insert into you, you couldn't help the squirming that overtook your body. But instead of just holding you in place, he pushed his fingers further into you, and you cried out with the pressure of his long digits impaling you.
He slowly withdrew his fingers away from your tight walls, wiping them dry on your thighs, his touch and your wetness lingering there. He moved his body, heavy and hot, farther up to you, and then laid down atop of you, nearly suffocating you with his weight. His lips found your jawline and peppered hot kisses onto your skins, moaning against you as he rubbed his still clothed erection against your soft center, wetting his pants with your juices.
The fabric was slightly coarse, making you writhe under him, he just put more weight onto your body, forcing you to stay and take whatever he would give you.
He soon sat up, straddling your hips, and rubbed his hard member over your soft belly in slow strokes, before he stood up, towering over your lying form. He was quick to rid of his pants and his underwear underneath it, exposing his throbbing erection to you.
When he moved down again, he caught your wrists in both hands and held them down over your head, then he shifted until he knelt over your chest, with his member in proximity of your mouth.
He let go of your wrists again, though you didn't even try to move your arms. Instead you lifted your head off the seat and tried to lick the head of his member, to get the silvery drops that clung so invitingly to his tip. But he gripped your hair again and pressed you down, just to rub his member over your cheek in the next second. You felt the drops of liquid smear on your face, and you whimpered lowly, closing your eyes when his glans came a little too close for comfort. He pulled away again, just to rub himself over your other cheek as well, before he smeared just a droplet of cum over your lips.
"Don't lick," he growled lowly when you opened your mouth, and you immediately closed it again. You could still taste a little of the salty bitterness, the feeling of it drying on your lips and cheeks made you wince. You could hardly keep yourself holding his hip in place when he shuffled back between your legs again, opening them wide once more and rubbing his now bare, dripping erection through your folds. He groaned upon the contact, and so did you when you pushed back a little, into the rubbing. It felt so good, so incredibly promising, that hardness of his shaft, the pulsation of his blood against your sensitive clit.
"Hungry, aren't you?" he whispered, darkly and with this low growl in his voice that made your thighs quiver. He pushed two fingers inside you, thrusting them quickly and making you instantly moan upon the sudden insertion.
"Your cunt is sucking on my fingers already," he whispered before leaning forward again and kissing your moist lips once more, biting your lower lip and pulling at it until the stinging pain made you whine and closed your eyes as a sign of submission.
When he murmured again, his breath met your lips, hot and sultry. "I'm going to pound into you until you forget every part of your body but the clenching walls of your cunt, until you feel nothing but the thrusts of my cock inside of you, got that?"
He hissed the question against your mouth, and you couldn't help but shove yourself harder onto his fingers. Your whole body was tingling, and your breath was fast and shallow with anticipation. When he pulled his fingers out of you this time, he didn't wipe them on your body, but instead slid them into your mouth, and you eagerly licked them clean, your eyes fluttering with a delicate innocence as you tasted yourself.
He pulled his hand away once you laved every last drop.
"Tell me you need me," he said uttered his breath hoarsely.
And then his fingers were on your throat. You swallowed hard and laid your head back, your whole body shivering as you tried to relax. For a second, you opened your eyes when you felt his thumb caress your larynx, and caught his eyes with your own. You smiled slightly, a trembling, tiny smile. You felt pressure, gentle still, just below your jaw, and you closed your eyes again, forcing your breath to go slow and steady as his big, strong hands ran over your throat.
You didn't say it fast enough, though, you found yourself distracted with studying his face so he clutched at the base of your neck in a death grip. The pressure of his thumbs increased quickly, nearly closing your windpipe right away, constricting it.
"I said," he growled loudly, the grip on your neck growing more intense and harder, "tell me you need me, you bitch."
"I... I..." you barely choked out, trying to stay calm, breathing became harder with every second, and soon every breath was accompanied by low wheezing. He pressed harder, harder until the air that still found its way into your lungs didn't suffice anymore, and your body started to struggle despite your volition. You tried to speak, you really did, but you physically couldn't no matter how much he demanded.
"What?" he asked, "That's not an answer, doll, speak up," he barked.
His hands encompassed your neck and held you in place, fingers digging into your soft skin and leaving deep red lines, restricting the flow of air even more. You tried to keep your hands away from his and clutched the seat beneath you violently, until your fingers cramped, but when he finally steadied his pressure, which was now completely blocking your windpipe, you just couldn't hold yourself anymore. Your fingers found his hands and you desperately tried to pull them away from your neck, while your head was slowly starting to feel light, and darkness crept into the corners of your eyes.
"How about this?" he tilted his head to the side a little, his grip not faltering even in the slightest. "Tell me you love me," he rasped.
You felt pressure just under your eyes, your mouth was hanging open, gasping hopelessly for breath which would not come. Your finger grasped, clawed on his hands, but his grip remained the same, and no motion was to be brought to them.
You opened your eyes again, staring up to him while you felt as if the pressure under, and now behind, your eyes would push them out of your head any moment. You choked audibly, gagged, whine, but nothing made him let go of you.
"Just tell me," he snarled, "and I'll let... go." he put emphasis on the last word.
Your body was seized by vertigo, and suddenly you couldn't tell up from down anymore, then everything started to blur, and the dizziness made you roll your eyes back into your head.
Then suddenly the hands were gone, so you gasped for breath, wheezing and panting and coughing as long-needed gushes of air filled your empty legs. You grabbed your neck, running your fingers over the skin by instinct. Your throat felt sore, and you could feel bruises blooming on the skin above your larynx, but your windpipe was completely sound.
"I need you, Jerome," you coughed out, stroking your discolored skin with a hand, "and I love you."
.
There's something in his eyes that doesn't seem human until you say those words, then in a flash, that grin appeared back on his face and he looks as smug as ever.
"Say it again," he demanded.
His hand already came back to your throat but before he captured it under his grasp, you quickly blurted out, "I need you! I love you!" you answered without a second to waste, and it only amused him, making him laugh.
"Good answer," he smirked devilishly. He paused for a while, as if he was thinking about something. For a second, you believed he might have said it back, but then you quickly realized it was just your imagination, something your mind made up.
He sat between your legs again and lifted your hips onto his lap, then leaned forward to kiss your lips once more, though it was gentle this time. You sighed and closed your eyes as you kissed him back. When he pulled away, you closed your eyes again, breathing slowly and steadily.
His hands found the sides of your neck suddenly and you could feel your breathing stutter slightly when he started to slowly apply pressure to the thick blood vessels that ran up your neck. It didn't hurt as much as it had hurt when he had cut off your trachea, but you knew that damage could be caused even easier this way, by any carelessness, by a few seconds of too much pressure, or by keeping the pressure for a few moments too long.
But those hands on your neck belonged to him. The strands of hair that tickled your face belonged to him. The hard member that pushed against your folds belonged to him. To the boy, who knew you better than anybody, and you knew without a doubt that you would give your life to him.
"You're my girl, right? Mine and only mine?" he asked in a gruff tone. You could still breathe, despite the pressure on your neck, and you tried to nod your head frantically. He was not blocking the way the air took to your lungs, and it made everything easier. It made everything less forceful. And when the dizziness came, the slight faintness, it was a lot less violent than before.
Your head started to swim, and your breath grew faster, heavier, as your body demanded more air, even though it would not do any good, but at least you could breathe.
The dizziness grew stronger, and suddenly your head was jerking to the side, as if your body had finally understood what was causing the strange feeling in your head. You felt the skin of your face and scalp prickle, the pressure below and behind your eyes again, though building less forcefully while the darkness at the corners of your eyes grew faster than before, and soon everything you saw was a mess of blurry colors and spots of light. You gasped again and started to fight against his grasp.
"You look even prettier like this, did you know that?" he asked with his eyebrows raised before adding, "so fucking perfect," he whispered under his hot breath. But once again he didn't let go of you, he just readjusted his grip a little as he shifted slightly between your legs. You felt your senses confusing, like you were losing them one by one, until you felt him push into you, with one hard, long thrust, before he started to fuck you right on the spot. No preamble, no care, just pounding, hard and merciless and with all the pent-up force he could muster.
Had you been able to think, to comprehend, you would have know that this was a race for him, to get both of you to climax before he had to let go of you. The only thing you felt was how perfect those thrusts were, how they split your body and made your insides twitch. Your eyes were closed and rolled back into your head again, your mouth open and gasping, and your whole body shivering.
You were weightless, floating, vibrating, pulsating, until you felt the strong convulsions of your orgasm deep inside your body, slow at first, but then stronger, stronger while his thrusts grew harsher and you opened your eyes wide to blurred shadows, gasping and whining breathlessly through the torrent of your climax. And then he let go of your neck and came inside of you with a low groan, spilling his seed deep inside of you and lingering afterwards, while your head started to spin from the suddenly continued rush of blood to it. You had to close your eyes for a moment to regain your composure, and any semblance of grounding.
Before you could open them again, he pulled out of you and kissed your lips gently, then you felt his lips against your neck, and then his ear against your chest. You smiled as you felt how he listened to your ragged breathing.
You weren't yet able to talk, you didn't think that you would be able to talk at all tonight, not without croaking, but you could move again, and one of your hands found his hair, starting to caress his locks. He seemed to take this as a sign that you were fine, and he sighed with relief. He smiled at that, you could feel the way his mouth stretched at the skin of your chest.
He laid down next to you and pulled you into his arms. You felt his pre-cum drying on your cheeks and both of your juices cooling between your thighs, felt the bruises blooming on your shoulder and throat, prickling as they filled with blood, reveled in the burning in of your throat, the satisfaction that filled your body with every fresh breath of air. Your flesh was still tingling from the intensity of your orgasm, still sensitive to his touches, but still you curled into his embrace, closing your eyes as you laid your head against his chest. He kissed your head, your brow, and your temple.
His hand came to rest on your back and he asked again, "Still love me?" though there's something in his voice that's saying he needed reassurance from you.
You smiled against the slope of his shoulder, "Always," you croaked out.