[It's like some terrible, shameless fantasy. Ai lifts her hips to show Rinne her bare ass and her tight, glistening heat. It drips with open want, and again, Rinne imagines what she must taste like on his tongue and on his skin, especially as she swallows him whole. He wonders what she would be like if he entered her like this. He wonders if it'll be different. Her eyes twinkle with mischief, as if every thought was written across his face, and beckon him to come closer. Rinne can't help himself. She's under him again, slotted against his hips, and the way he fits her is better than the last. He plants a strong fist onto the futon as he squeezes her by the hip. The desire in his mouth is heavy and thick. He carves himself into her, every thrust thorough and deep, committing every inch of her to memory.]
This how you like it, Ai?
[Because it's not pretty. Rinne tugs his sash open, and his yukata slips off his shoulders. Sweat rolls down his back as he desperately rolls to meet Ai's hips, hissing through his teeth, each sound of her name drawn out like smoke from his tongue. He isn't doing this to please her. What Rinne feels is primal.]
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This how you like it, Ai?
[Because it's not pretty. Rinne tugs his sash open, and his yukata slips off his shoulders. Sweat rolls down his back as he desperately rolls to meet Ai's hips, hissing through his teeth, each sound of her name drawn out like smoke from his tongue. He isn't doing this to please her. What Rinne feels is primal.]
That means I can make you mine, right?