Smut

     Nothing could stop her when she got that lustful glaze in her eyes, nothing could tie her back down to the ground, so he used his belt. He stripped her down first and kissed her forehead, whispering into her, "it's going to be fine. Do you trust me?"

     She nodded, the pleasure of feeling his rubber belt against her wrists drove her crazy. She wanted his mouth against her body, she wanted him to take her into his command.

     Without missing a beat, his hands glided over her stomach and between her legs, smothering her warmth, squeezing her just to push her over the edge. Her whimpers and moans told him she had been living with sadness her entire life and there was only one plausible cure for the tears slipping from inside her thighs. She pleaded with him, "Taste me, baby."

     His composure changed and neither of them were in control anymore and the pain and the fears and the emotions were hands that manipulated, their heavy breathing and earnestness came from their broken hearts and both desperately wanted to fill that void that had plagued them for their entire lives; the world around them disappeared in a fever sweat and her screams began to find footing, not in despair, but in love and her hands squeezed at the mattress, craving her lover's body.