You're My Everything (Septiplier)

"You're able to take control." (🍋)

"Babe?" he asked again, his kisses slowing down, and his eyes searched mine. "You stopped talking to me. Everything ok?"

I breathed in, connecting back to the moment. I was thinking too hard, trying to find the best way to tell him that I needed him to be more forceful. More aggressive. To take charge and not always feel the need to ask to want me. To not hesitate that I may not want him to consume me completely as his own.

"Sorry," I said softly, taking my fingers and wrapping around his firm member and beginning to stroke. "I was just finding the words to say how I need you."

His worried eyes softened and rolled back slightly from the motion of my rubs, his hot moan escaping from his mouth and hitting my neck like fireworks.

"Oh...God, Sean.." he groaned, his arms wrapping around me tightly in his arms. "Can we get in the shower now, please?"

There is was again. The asking for permission. The sweetness that I loved so much of the time that every so often made me want to sigh in exasperation.

"Bright Eyes," I said still stroking him as my lips found his sweet spot by his right ear, "you don't always have to ask me what you can do every time. Just do what you think will feel good. Just do what you want with me."

He sighed heavily, and I felt his hands groping desperately for the door to the shower. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his eyes half lidded.

I nodded and stroked him faster. "Yes, I do want that. I want you to do whatever you want to me, to us, until we both cum."

He kissed me hard and we both stepped into the shower. The water felt wonderful on the back of my neck and head as he pushed me to the back of the shower. I gasped at the coldness of the tiles when my shoulder blades hit, and Mark paused at the noise.

"Are you all - "

"Yes," I said, trying not to have my frustration be heard. "I'm fine baby, please stop worrying about me."

"Ok." he said softly, and he lifted up my right leg and angled his member, now rock hard near my entrance, and pushed in.

"Ohhhhh my God," I groaned as he fully slid inside of me. He grabbed my hips and pushed me downwards and I yelped as he pounded me until our bodies connected to the hilt.

"Fuuuck," I heard him say, his fingers digging in deeper into my skin, and I could actually feel the deep scratches in the soft parts of my right thigh. "Sean, you feel..so good."

My mind was fuzzy with all of the warmth and thrusting, and I could feel myself getting closer. He was really taking over. He was really trying to make me his, and it felt amazingly new and different. He was digging hie nails into me even more, but I didn't care. I was too lost in the the fog of the moment.

Then, as I went to take a hold of his length again, he slowed down, and then stopped.

I opened my eyes, and felt my eyes squint back again from the harshness of the bathroom light. The shower was falling in streams over his broad shoulders and muscled back. His head was down, his hair being soaked by the cascading water.

He was looking at something on my thigh, but what?

"Mark?" I asked, placing both of my hands on the sides of his face. "Why did you stop?"

He lifted his head, his dark brown eyes full of tears and his expression, looking horrified.

"I hurt you," he said, so soft that I could barely hear him. "You're bleeding."

"What?" I said, confused. He had been scratching me pretty hard, but a few marks were fine. He pulled out of me completely, and I raised up my thigh to see what he was talking about. As I checked he took a step or two back, and covered his chest with his arms. The shower water was still hitting the top of his shoulders and arms like rain.

It wasn't nothing at all. There were three fairly large fingernail lines in the inside of my thigh. It stung a bit, but not something that should be scaring him so much. I looked up to tell him that I was fine, and even had part of a joke to call him Wolverine when my eyes met his again, and my heart twisted. His body was shaking as he looked back at me. His eyes full of pain.

"Oh, my god," he whispered. "I hurt you. I'm so sorry, Sean. I don't know what happened. I...I just lost control."

"Hey, it's ok," I said, taking a step towards him. "I'm fine. It's just a few scratch marks."

He shook his head "no" and opened the shower door.

"Mark?" I said, looking at him stunned.

"Please...why are you leaving?"

He didn't look at me, and he closed the shower door back. In the misty glass I saw his blurry form grab a towel from the sink area and open and close the bathroom door.

I finished washing up quickly, and headed back into the bedroom. The room was completely dark, and the only light at all was coming from the street light outside. I was able to just see enough in one of the dresser drawers to pull out boxer and pajama pants. Walking over slowly, I saw him laying on his side of the bed, his face turned away from me.

"Mark?" I called out quietly, and he stirred a bit in the covers.

I touched his leg as I crawled in bed with him, and I could hear his breath catch in his throat, and then a quiet sob.

"No, no," I said, the broken pieces of my heart catching in my throat. "Please don't cry. It'll be ok. You didn't hurt me. It felt good, Bright Eyes."

If anything, my words seem to make things worse.

"I can't do what you wanted," he cried as he turned over and hugged me. His face in the middle of my chest, his tears so hot on my skin. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried so hard, but I can't do it. I need you to have control over us. I can't do it."

I was only understanding half of the words, between the crying and mutters, but his message was heartbreakingly clear.

He doesn't trust himself to let go.

I cradled him to my chest as he cried and cried until finally his grip on my body and heart loosened and he drifted off into what I hoped with all of my soul were much more pleasent dreams.