Just you and me, baby

He snapped his teeth at her in a possessive, demanding snarl. “Not until you come for me, Little Bird” he warned her, her writhing beneath him, the scent and feel of her. The taste of her breathless words in the air. He was too far gone to stop.


He thrust into her, claiming her. Chasing away her fears when she thought she might leave in a huff. His, always his. He bit back the coughs, shivering from both excursion and pleasure as he continued to claim her. Until the pressure built up in his throat and he struggled to breath. He knew he'd gone too far, and instead of risking collapsing on her, he pulled free and rolled over. Gasping on the floor with dots in his vision. Struggling to hold onto consciousness, and failing.