[ At the skitter of her nails, Hei's breath hitches, low and jittery-edged. He'll be the first to agree she has the sex-drive of a teenage boy. But he'll also be the first to laud its virtues to the high-fucking-heavens, because it's gratifying to be with someone like this, so crazily intensely responsive. How it seems to take nothing for him to stir her into heat: just the murmur of a particular word might do it, the merest brush or kiss. But the best part is knowing that it's not an indifferent, undifferentiated lust, a cold animal rut for anything with a dick and a working pair of hands. ]
[ Hei knows what that looks like -- because in his mind's eye that is the figurehead of his own drives, an intensely personal selfishness for those he wants, and the ways he wants them. It's conceivable to cherish the nature of women, sure. They're lovely and soft, willing to accommodate the man who knows how best to stroke them. But that's on a whole: he generally feels nothing on a case-by-case basis. A predator's relationship is with the end, not the means. The self-gratification, not the person. He's adept at breaking any object of desire -- real or pretended -- down to its base elements: tits, asses, lips, hips, cocks, cunts. The process of dehumanization has almost become an imperative for him. ]
[ Except here. Because he dearly cherishes the nature of this girl. ]
[ She spreads her legs beneath the taut curve of his body -- and against his will, Hei sinks in closer, a warm heavy drape. His lips leave cool trails of moisture on her skin, mouthing the tender underside of her jaw, the curve of her neck, tracing the vein that pounds so enticingly, while at the crux of their bodies, in his jeans, he can feel himself hardening against her belly. ]
[ He lets her guide his hand, playing her ribs as if tickling piano keys, palming the curve of her hip, before skimming his fingers along the warm smooth sliver of skin above her waistband. ]
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Date: 2014-11-23 02:56 am (UTC)[ Hei knows what that looks like -- because in his mind's eye that is the figurehead of his own drives, an intensely personal selfishness for those he wants, and the ways he wants them. It's conceivable to cherish the nature of women, sure. They're lovely and soft, willing to accommodate the man who knows how best to stroke them. But that's on a whole: he generally feels nothing on a case-by-case basis. A predator's relationship is with the end, not the means. The self-gratification, not the person. He's adept at breaking any object of desire -- real or pretended -- down to its base elements: tits, asses, lips, hips, cocks, cunts. The process of dehumanization has almost become an imperative for him. ]
[ Except here. Because he dearly cherishes the nature of this girl. ]
[ She spreads her legs beneath the taut curve of his body -- and against his will, Hei sinks in closer, a warm heavy drape. His lips leave cool trails of moisture on her skin, mouthing the tender underside of her jaw, the curve of her neck, tracing the vein that pounds so enticingly, while at the crux of their bodies, in his jeans, he can feel himself hardening against her belly. ]
[ He lets her guide his hand, playing her ribs as if tickling piano keys, palming the curve of her hip, before skimming his fingers along the warm smooth sliver of skin above her waistband. ]
[ Kissing the soft shell of her ear, he teases, ]
Point. But suppose you fall asleep again?