[ It’s hard to know where — when — she is. With Silco beneath her, his last words in her ear, caught on a groove in her mind like a scratch on a record. You’re perfect don’t cry you’re perfect don’t cry don’t cry don’t — Maybe she never left the undercity, clinging to his corpse in the water. Drowning in all the love she still has for him, flooding her chest and throat. There’s nowhere for it to go. No one to take it. None who have been father and mentor and more. Everything, washing over her.
She can’t think. Can only act, weight shifting to her knees so she can lift up and guide his cock inside her. He’s big, or maybe she’s just small. Whimpering already, at the tip, that first stretch that makes her pulse sing — a track switch, take him take him take him — mouth falling open as she takes him inch by inch, pleading little pushes, impossibly wet for him and still unbelievably tight. The pleasure overrides all, a rightness low in her belly that burns brighter, hotter, until she sits flush against him, and it consumes her. No voices in her head, no static, blank but for the satisfaction of performing her role. ]
Ah — Silco. [ Thighs quivering, walls fluttering, hands scrabbling for purchase on his chest (nails catching on the scarred over bullet holes, palms settling there without knowing why). She lifts up until her cunt barely catches on the head of his cock, agony in the absence of him filling her, and then she eases down again. And back again. Again, faster this time, hard enough that the slap of skin-on-skin jolts her eyes open, screwed up in concentration until now. Seeing clearly, for the first time in an age.
She nods jerkily. Digs and drags her nails to mark. ]
Mine.
[ No more doubting him, when he would live for her, die for her, claw his way back to the surface. ]
no subject
She can’t think. Can only act, weight shifting to her knees so she can lift up and guide his cock inside her. He’s big, or maybe she’s just small. Whimpering already, at the tip, that first stretch that makes her pulse sing — a track switch, take him take him take him — mouth falling open as she takes him inch by inch, pleading little pushes, impossibly wet for him and still unbelievably tight. The pleasure overrides all, a rightness low in her belly that burns brighter, hotter, until she sits flush against him, and it consumes her. No voices in her head, no static, blank but for the satisfaction of performing her role. ]
Ah — Silco. [ Thighs quivering, walls fluttering, hands scrabbling for purchase on his chest (nails catching on the scarred over bullet holes, palms settling there without knowing why). She lifts up until her cunt barely catches on the head of his cock, agony in the absence of him filling her, and then she eases down again. And back again. Again, faster this time, hard enough that the slap of skin-on-skin jolts her eyes open, screwed up in concentration until now. Seeing clearly, for the first time in an age.
She nods jerkily. Digs and drags her nails to mark. ]
Mine.
[ No more doubting him, when he would live for her, die for her, claw his way back to the surface. ]