I sink my fingers in your hair.

This is my favorite part.

You are helpless under me with nothing to charge, nothing that you yourself are not connected to.

It doesn't matter that you never wanted this. I take it because I am an animal. I want it, so I take it.

I go deeper into you and you moan in a mixture of pain and pleasure. My hands run up and down your muscular back as I pound in and out of you. Your sinewy muscles only make me harder.

I will never get tired of fucking you, never get tired of enjoying the way you fight to no avail to throw me off. Maybe eventually you will like it like I do. Maybe one day you will be on top and I panting under you, but for now I will settle for the raspy breath coming from your plump lips and your hands balled up in the sheets and all the sweat making its way down your body. I envy that sweat. It gets to touch you whenever it wants.

I pull out of you earning a moan and then thrust back in. The moan turns to a muffled yell.

I know what they mean now by that saying there's a thin line between love and hate. Everytime I hate, my claws come out. Right now, however, I am loving this and I feel each metal blade ready to rip through my knuckles.

It's not my fault you're so beautiful.

It's not my fault you're so fuckable.

What am I supposed to do? I want you so I take you.

And there's nothing you can do about it.