Damian
Kissing him hurt, but not as much what he was saying. I wasn't one to get attached, but it still fucking stung for a fling to say they hate you. I didn't want to kiss him, I wanted to be a thousand miles away from him, away from here, but instead I was here, lips attached to his like nothing else mattered. The only thing keeping him from screaming at me.
His hand came around my throat, and I pushed against it. Take me, hurt me, just dont hurt my heart.
His teeth grazed my hurt lip, and the sting blazed in my mind, but I didn't flinch.
"I'm sorry." He said into my open mouth.
I pushed him down, straddling his sides. His hands snaked up my sides, under my tee shirt.
"You're so fucking bipolar..." I groaned, feeling his thumbs press into my hips.
"Language." He replied, kissing my neck.
"Bitch? Did you ju- oh fuck..." his hands had slipped into my pants, palming me through my boxers. My chest heaved and dipped into him.
His hands were completely unexperienced but they still felt good, making my heart race. My head filled with a haze as he stroked and tugged.
"Am I... is it good?" He asked.
I shuddered as I climaxed into the rough material. I guess that answered him.
He smiled and kissed me, lips melding into my panting mouth.
"We are talking after I give you head and that's final."