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Title: Come Undone
Wordcount: 1,184
What: Don't you hate it when a song gets stuck in your head and the devil goes "Yeah I'd fuck to that song.". What continuity this belongs to is a mystery.
Status: Complete
Mine, immaculate dream,
Made of breath and skin,
I've been waiting for you,
Signed with a whole tattoo,
Happy birthday to you,
Was created for you
We didn't even make it back to the bedroom.
I don't even remember how the it came to this. Before I knew it I had him on his back on top of my desk. When it came to this guy -- this kid -- I just couldn't help myself. I found that holding back just made the need even worse at the end of the day. Like a damned itch I couldn't fucking scratch. Once I did, I'd scratch... scratch until I scraped my skin bloody and even then I needed more.
See, this kid was made for me. That sort of shit doesn't happen very often. Hell, it only happens once in a fucking lifetime and not to everyone. The moment I set my eyes on him, I knew he was mine. He's got the kind of soul that burns on the way down, the kind of spirit that would take over hell if you didn't keep him on a fucking leash and under careful watch. He was made for me. Fuck me if I wasn't made for him, too. He was a proud, untamed thing. Kind of like a wild stallion that needed to be broken to ride him properly... and did I ever ride him. Or rather, he rode me.
His taste never got old. No matter how many times I'd dragged my tongue over his skin... even now as I held him down against my desk, squirming while I pushed his shirt up to get a taste. I love how he sounds; those little animal moans when I drag my tongue over his chest, down the ripples of muscle over his stomach and sides. His cheeks are burned even as I peeled his pants off his waist and hips. It's cute and I don't give a fuck if he hates it when I call him cute. Maybe I liked it even more when he protested a little whenever we messed around like this. It's that fire that made him so damn attractive in the first place.
He's sinfully hot and I love it. Sin's in my blood anyway and I'm dragging him down to hell with me... kicking and screaming if I have to.
I cannot believe you're taking my heart
To pieces
There's a reason the deepest pits of Gehenna are reserved for the childfuckers. You take something as innocent as a kid and throw them into shit they probably aren't old enough to figure out? That's as dark a sin as they come. No matter how much you defend it, saying they're more mature than they look, it's still a sin. You couldn't hold back. You just had to take a bite of forbidden fruit. You just had to take what innocence they had to satiate your own filth-ridden hunger. It wasn't my fault, officer. The devil made me do it.
Bullshit.
I didn't make you do jack.
I never make him do jack, either.
Oh, it might take a little time
Might take a little crime
To come undone
That's all him. That's all him weaving his fingers through my hair. All him gripping, stroking, urging my mouth and lips and teeth with a string of gasped "yes, fuck"s like those were the litany of beads on my own perverse rosary. Those sorts of prayers are the reason why I don't mind lowering myself like some cheap whore, stuffing my mouth with his cock. He doesn't expect it, thinks I'm too fucking proud to let him fuck my mouth like I'm the one serving him. In a way, I am. What sort of king sucks his lover off? Most mortals would be honored to have the lord of sin using his mouth to work them to completion, much less allow them to treat his mouth like a waiting, slickened cunt for them to use.
But I love how he just loses it when he cums that way. It's so desperate, so damn primal. That's not just lust.
That's need right there.
Insatiable hungry need.
You can tell he's riled up when he actually sits up just so he can fuck my mouth harder. I resist him just a bit, just to keep the edge. That's what makes it hot, anyway.It reminds him who he's fucking, rather who lets him fuck this way.
Those groans that come from him don't come from a kid, I can tell you that. When he screams my name, I know he's close. It'll just be a fraction of a second until I feel his spunk hitting the back of my throat and he's gasping to catch his breath. This time around, he's hunched over my head, buried into my hair. I can feel him panting but he knows I'm not done with him yet. I've just gotten started.
Hey, child
Stay wilder than the wind
Can blow me in
I love how tight that lean body is. He's all skin and sinew and muscle and hormones and need. So much damned need. Even better is how he looks when I'm burying myself in him. He's gripping the desk, gripping my hair, clutched at anything he can get his hands on. With how tight he is, I'm surprised he isn't screaming. All the times I'd split his ass and the feeling never gets old. Every time I'm balls deep in him, it just hits me how fucking perfect he is for me. He takes so much punishment and practically begs me for more, like some fucking masochist.
So I'm only happy to oblige.
When we fuck, it's always with some kind of desperation to it. Humans... demons... we're animals anyway. No wonder it gets so primal. He likes it rough, likes it when I'm thrusting hard into him. Hard, deep, enough to have a normal person reeling. But not him. He takes every pound, every thrust, every inch like it was his idea in the first place.
His eyes are shut so tight I doubt he sees what's going on in my head.
He's mine. He's mine and I know he feels it every time he feels my hot spunk filling his body. I know he feels it every time I'm a panting, heaving mess against his skin. Every time I tell him he knows how to make me cum like no one ever has.
He's mine... and I...
Need him.
He probably sees it whenever I'm done, in that short moment when I'm pulling out and he's lying there, catching his breath with my spunk leaking out of him. He's probably caught me looking at him... staring at him like I want to fucking kiss him and he's right. I want to kiss him. I'm always wanting to kiss him.
I want to kiss him.
Fuck him.
Wake up with him pressed into me.
And they say he's in too deep, sleeping with some... entity... more than twice his age. If you ask me, I'm the one who's in deeper.
Who do you need
Who do you love
When you come undone?
Wordcount: 1,184
What: Don't you hate it when a song gets stuck in your head and the devil goes "Yeah I'd fuck to that song.". What continuity this belongs to is a mystery.
Status: Complete
Mine, immaculate dream,
Made of breath and skin,
I've been waiting for you,
Signed with a whole tattoo,
Happy birthday to you,
Was created for you
We didn't even make it back to the bedroom.
I don't even remember how the it came to this. Before I knew it I had him on his back on top of my desk. When it came to this guy -- this kid -- I just couldn't help myself. I found that holding back just made the need even worse at the end of the day. Like a damned itch I couldn't fucking scratch. Once I did, I'd scratch... scratch until I scraped my skin bloody and even then I needed more.
See, this kid was made for me. That sort of shit doesn't happen very often. Hell, it only happens once in a fucking lifetime and not to everyone. The moment I set my eyes on him, I knew he was mine. He's got the kind of soul that burns on the way down, the kind of spirit that would take over hell if you didn't keep him on a fucking leash and under careful watch. He was made for me. Fuck me if I wasn't made for him, too. He was a proud, untamed thing. Kind of like a wild stallion that needed to be broken to ride him properly... and did I ever ride him. Or rather, he rode me.
His taste never got old. No matter how many times I'd dragged my tongue over his skin... even now as I held him down against my desk, squirming while I pushed his shirt up to get a taste. I love how he sounds; those little animal moans when I drag my tongue over his chest, down the ripples of muscle over his stomach and sides. His cheeks are burned even as I peeled his pants off his waist and hips. It's cute and I don't give a fuck if he hates it when I call him cute. Maybe I liked it even more when he protested a little whenever we messed around like this. It's that fire that made him so damn attractive in the first place.
He's sinfully hot and I love it. Sin's in my blood anyway and I'm dragging him down to hell with me... kicking and screaming if I have to.
I cannot believe you're taking my heart
To pieces
There's a reason the deepest pits of Gehenna are reserved for the childfuckers. You take something as innocent as a kid and throw them into shit they probably aren't old enough to figure out? That's as dark a sin as they come. No matter how much you defend it, saying they're more mature than they look, it's still a sin. You couldn't hold back. You just had to take a bite of forbidden fruit. You just had to take what innocence they had to satiate your own filth-ridden hunger. It wasn't my fault, officer. The devil made me do it.
Bullshit.
I didn't make you do jack.
I never make him do jack, either.
Oh, it might take a little time
Might take a little crime
To come undone
That's all him. That's all him weaving his fingers through my hair. All him gripping, stroking, urging my mouth and lips and teeth with a string of gasped "yes, fuck"s like those were the litany of beads on my own perverse rosary. Those sorts of prayers are the reason why I don't mind lowering myself like some cheap whore, stuffing my mouth with his cock. He doesn't expect it, thinks I'm too fucking proud to let him fuck my mouth like I'm the one serving him. In a way, I am. What sort of king sucks his lover off? Most mortals would be honored to have the lord of sin using his mouth to work them to completion, much less allow them to treat his mouth like a waiting, slickened cunt for them to use.
But I love how he just loses it when he cums that way. It's so desperate, so damn primal. That's not just lust.
That's need right there.
Insatiable hungry need.
You can tell he's riled up when he actually sits up just so he can fuck my mouth harder. I resist him just a bit, just to keep the edge. That's what makes it hot, anyway.It reminds him who he's fucking, rather who lets him fuck this way.
Those groans that come from him don't come from a kid, I can tell you that. When he screams my name, I know he's close. It'll just be a fraction of a second until I feel his spunk hitting the back of my throat and he's gasping to catch his breath. This time around, he's hunched over my head, buried into my hair. I can feel him panting but he knows I'm not done with him yet. I've just gotten started.
Hey, child
Stay wilder than the wind
Can blow me in
I love how tight that lean body is. He's all skin and sinew and muscle and hormones and need. So much damned need. Even better is how he looks when I'm burying myself in him. He's gripping the desk, gripping my hair, clutched at anything he can get his hands on. With how tight he is, I'm surprised he isn't screaming. All the times I'd split his ass and the feeling never gets old. Every time I'm balls deep in him, it just hits me how fucking perfect he is for me. He takes so much punishment and practically begs me for more, like some fucking masochist.
So I'm only happy to oblige.
When we fuck, it's always with some kind of desperation to it. Humans... demons... we're animals anyway. No wonder it gets so primal. He likes it rough, likes it when I'm thrusting hard into him. Hard, deep, enough to have a normal person reeling. But not him. He takes every pound, every thrust, every inch like it was his idea in the first place.
His eyes are shut so tight I doubt he sees what's going on in my head.
He's mine. He's mine and I know he feels it every time he feels my hot spunk filling his body. I know he feels it every time I'm a panting, heaving mess against his skin. Every time I tell him he knows how to make me cum like no one ever has.
He's mine... and I...
Need him.
He probably sees it whenever I'm done, in that short moment when I'm pulling out and he's lying there, catching his breath with my spunk leaking out of him. He's probably caught me looking at him... staring at him like I want to fucking kiss him and he's right. I want to kiss him. I'm always wanting to kiss him.
I want to kiss him.
Fuck him.
Wake up with him pressed into me.
And they say he's in too deep, sleeping with some... entity... more than twice his age. If you ask me, I'm the one who's in deeper.
Who do you need
Who do you love
When you come undone?
