Flesh on flesh, hands glide, sweaty and forceful, and he says “no.”
A bite to the neck, just a little too hard; the captive animal flinches. He cusses, and snarls, and once again says “no”.
Her face appears behind closed eyes, and he feels dirty and traitorous. Chest to the wall, exposed and helpless, he remembers her last three words in a heady blur of testosterone and sex. What she doesn’t know, he reasons… and she’ll never know.
The Master’s breath falls hot on his neck, uninvited and yet ferociously welcome. Disgusted with himself, he holds back the word ‘no’.