( of course, if there was ever any proof that paul adores her, it's in his contradictions. his brutish snatching at her throat, only to be as soft as if he were handling the delicate stalk of a flower. the forceful fit of his cock inside the strangling chokehold of her cunt, only to concern himself with the mercy of thumbing at her clit — ensuring he gives back, even as he takes. pleasure for pleasure, water for water. inappropriately, alina smiles lovingly at the menace in his threats, his blood still sticky between her teeth. paul has painted himself with every ugly brushstroke there is — monster, freak, abomination — but alina has her proof, now, of what he truly is. a kiss from a knife that turns against anyone but her. the flame that keeps her warm, even as it razes the earth. an inseverable thread that isn't bound only to her throat — but his own, too. )

I love you. ( choked up, on the wings of a splintered cry — an intermission in their game, a small truce between hunter and prey. because the last man she loved gave her a collar the minute she denied him, and spurred the hold she placed on him. because the last man she loved set her on fire to keep himself warm. because the last man she loved never cared if her teeth were in his throat, so long as he could embed his canines in her soft parts, suck from the marrow until she was depleted. when alina's nails shred down his back, it's a gift, not an admonishment — my blood is your blood and your blood is my blood. ) Mine. My Paul. My —

( it's a cosmic event, like planets aligning once in a milennia — her body leaves no void between his orgasm and her own. her tiny fists yank at fistfuls of his hair as she comes in spasming pulses, milking him, wringing dry the warm spill of his cum — needy, desperate, biological. a vice-grip on his dick all the better for breeding her, all the better for keeping him here, saying see? a perfect fit, tight as a lock sliding home in a key. the slick bend of her thighs quake around his hips, fawn-legged, as alina shakily fucks herself upward — every muscle in her body quivering from the strain of effort. )

Already? You like forcing your cum inside of your Mommy that much? ( a teasing giggle accidentally slips, smokily, free of her. ) It feels good, doesn't it? Making me take it? You're so big, it's too much for my — for my small cunt. It hurts. Please — please don't make me take anymore. ( whiny, played up — her cunt drools around the thick split of him too eagerly, left with only the cramping, aching need in her stomach for more, more, more. through hiccuping breahts, she pushes at his chest, all big wet eyes and feebly helpless shoves, even as she tries to work herself on his dick in small, squirmy shifts. ) Please? You already came.