come for the monsters, stay for the cannibalism

He discovered a third fact: though not always, and not in every relationship he’d had, he was—thank you, reddit commenter—extremely into being bossed around in bed. Although, maybe that wasn’t the best term. He didn’t think he was into the very heavy, intense vibe of it. But there had definitely been a few times where he and Taylor had slipped into that vibe when they fucked around. She was a woman who had known what she liked in bed and wasn’t shy about it; about telling him what to do and how to do it, like when she wanted him to eat her out, or fuck her a certain way. Eventually he’d learned to read what she wanted through her noises and non-verbal cues, and it happened less often. Every once in a while, though, she’d come home in a mood, and he’d have to stay still and silent while she rode him fiercely, like he was just a toy designed only for her pleasure, and if he couldn’t keep quiet enough, she wouldn’t let him come. Or, there was one time she wanted to tie him to the bed with some of her scarves.   Most memorably, he remembered the time he’d been on top of her, fucking her with slow, controlled thrusts, muscles quivering with exertion because they’d been going at it for almost an hour. Her hair had been spread all over the pillow like flames, and he remembered feeling the sting of claw marks down his back and, and she’d slid her hands down lower, lower, lower, over the curve of his ass, until—  “Whoa,” he’d gasped out, freezing, stuttering in his rhythm. “What are you—” She’d grinned wickedly and swiped her tongue over her bottom lip before yanking him into a kiss that was all tongues and teeth. “What’s the matter, Buckley?” She’d murmured in his ear, seductive and coy, biting at his lobe. “Never played around back here before?”  He’d groaned, braced over her as her fingers ghosted over his hole, just a tease. Something zinged and sparked up his spine, and he groaned and as he shoved himself as deep inside her as he could go, dropping his face into the curve of her neck. She’d shushed him, soothing, assuring, as he’d stammered, “No, ne—never, I haven’t—Taylor please, what—” And then she’d kissed down his neck as she rubbed her fingers there, the barest hint of pressure, and he’d shuddered and shook apart and she’d held him close and rubbed his back and said, “There you go, that’s it,” and his vision had gone fuzzy for a whole minute after he came.