Hell, I want people to hear.
He gets ever more curled up, my face ever closer to his. We steal a kiss and I fuck him for a bit more. He’s hard now, leaking a little over his flat, toned stomach.
I lean back and look down on him. Hoping it’s the right thing to do (it is usually, but not always), I slap him quite hard across the face.
He looks astonished, lost, entirely unsure for a moment how he should feel about what just happened. Then a smile, hunger in his eyes, and I hit him again.
‘Fuck, yeah. Fuck me.’ I oblige, but lean down to make out with him again, then I brush the cheek that I slapped him on. When I move my hand to do this he flinches, but the look on his face when he realises why it moved is adorable. Looking each other in the eyes we know that we own each other. We fuck some more, settle into rhythm, both breathing heavily, me groaning, him yelping and swearing.
I slow down a little to catch my breath, and to savour the moment. He’s so fucking hot, and he’s mine.