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Description
I’ve always liked the dark, it gives me a sense of comfort in this strange world, makes everything soothing in some sense. My idea of reality, distorting, when I stand under the stars, awaiting the arrival of my last being of comfort, the one who makes my world swirl in metamorphosis, in the darkness.

It became more soothing to me after I felt his touch in the blackest of nights; hands tracing over my body; fingers finding the delicate crevices to stroke and tease; and his breath torrid, searing against my neck in the cold night. My comfort turning to pure sin, pain within the moment of these movements these attentive feelings leaving scars, mental and physical.

Our bodies pushing closer than one would normally predict, our hearts beating almost together, eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. The change is obvious, the gentle turns rough: one hits the ground; our bodies move, hips grinding, legs roughly opened; and hands pushing and shoving, scratching. A scream, a moan--one is down for the count--the dominate pays no mind, his movements increasing in pace from comfort to pain, to sobs of utter pleasure, pain, guilt, and remorse.
It slows and his body is now over my own, lips touching attentively now, exploring each nook and cranny being offered.

Our sin is our pleasure, a carnal urge driving the dominant onward as the pinned gives noises of pure pleasure. We slow together, and the roughness of before melts away with the sensations of his bites, thrusts, and fingers raking over my skin.
Thunders crashing overhead making neither of us heed it, our bodies now one, our world gone; only the feelings left for us.

But when it ends, I lay on the ground, my eyes shut tighter than need be.
He brushes lips against the marks he leaves me, whispering, an "I’m sorry," in my ‘ear’.

I sigh, rolling over, and my muzzle tightly pressed against the rooftop below us.
"Your turn to be bottom next time…” I say smiling softly to assure him the apology is useless, to show him my façade, to keep up our acts, even if they are against better judgment, I still wish to be with him, even without the emotional attachments of a real relationship.

He cannot see that, for he is secluded in the dark as well, only seeing what I want him to see, my element blinding him of it, which suits me just fine. He chuckles saying I will have to fight him for it, helping me up, normal attitude returned to him, seeming to forget what went on in the cold of the night.
He forgets for a moment in time, and I keep him the dark.

Description
I’ve always liked the dark, it gives me a sense of comfort in this strange world, makes everything soothing in some sense. My idea of reality, distorting, when I stand under the stars, awaiting the arrival of my last being of comfort, the one who makes my world swirl in metamorphosis, in the darkness.

It became more soothing to me after I felt his touch in the blackest of nights; hands tracing over my body; fingers finding the delicate crevices to stroke and tease; and his breath torrid, searing against my neck in the cold night. My comfort turning to pure sin, pain within the moment of these movements these attentive feelings leaving scars, mental and physical.

Our bodies pushing closer than one would normally predict, our hearts beating almost together, eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. The change is obvious, the gentle turns rough: one hits the ground; our bodies move, hips grinding, legs roughly opened; and hands pushing and shoving, scratching. A scream, a moan--one is down for the count--the dominate pays no mind, his movements increasing in pace from comfort to pain, to sobs of utter pleasure, pain, guilt, and remorse.
It slows and his body is now over my own, lips touching attentively now, exploring each nook and cranny being offered.

Our sin is our pleasure, a carnal urge driving the dominant onward as the pinned gives noises of pure pleasure. We slow together, and the roughness of before melts away with the sensations of his bites, thrusts, and fingers raking over my skin.
Thunders crashing overhead making neither of us heed it, our bodies now one, our world gone; only the feelings left for us.

But when it ends, I lay on the ground, my eyes shut tighter than need be.
He brushes lips against the marks he leaves me, whispering, an "I’m sorry," in my ‘ear’.

I sigh, rolling over, and my muzzle tightly pressed against the rooftop below us.
"Your turn to be bottom next time…” I say smiling softly to assure him the apology is useless, to show him my façade, to keep up our acts, even if they are against better judgment, I still wish to be with him, even without the emotional attachments of a real relationship.

He cannot see that, for he is secluded in the dark as well, only seeing what I want him to see, my element blinding him of it, which suits me just fine. He chuckles saying I will have to fight him for it, helping me up, normal attitude returned to him, seeming to forget what went on in the cold of the night.
He forgets for a moment in time, and I keep him the dark.