||[Aug. 14th, 2003|01:53 am]
And God, he wanted to be. His body origami of youth and raw lust, Karl stretching him unnatural and deeper than he should. Then pain, flaring as muscles seized and then, just then, before numbness and needles set in, he wanted it.
And then it passed into just a solid fucking, Karl thick and gritty inside, rough and good; but not owned. He pushed back, hard, and felt Karl's tremble. Weakness even as he left his thumbprints on his ass. Counting the squares on the quilt until Karl reaches around and digs his nails into Elijah’s sagging cock.
Just. Not. Enough.
Taking it, waiting, staring idly at the condom wrapper next to the bin; and he wanted that too. To be used as a receptacle of fluids: semen, urine, blood. To be so wholly owned that nothing, not sanity, not safety, not consent mattered.
But he wasn't