Whimper.

"I—I want—oh I want you to fuck me—both of you—I want what you did to that girl, I want to be held down and taken over and over like that—I want—I want—tell me I'm good, tell me I'm beautiful, tell me I matter—I want your cock, I want your teeth—please—please fuck me—"

"Oh, you are beautiful." Still holding her in place with one hand, he gently pets her hair with the other, then kisses her.

She whimpers into his mouth, straining against his hand. It's ridiculous, it should be impossible, for him to be able to hold her so effortlessly. The leverage is all wrong; a hand made of literal steel would have trouble keeping her in this position with that grip. But here she is, trapped, helpless, begging desperately to be fucked. She closes her eyes and feels tears trickle down her cheeks. Part of her is horribly humiliated, but most of her feels... cared for. There's something deeply affirming about the fact that he's absolutely refusing to fuck her until he's sure she really wants it. It's like the exact inverse of being held down and fucked without the opportunity to say no, and it's every bit as hot.

"You're so good," he murmurs into the kiss, "you're so pretty, I missed you so much, look at you..." More kisses. "I want to keep you forever. I want to give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I want," kiss, "to fuck you until you come screaming," kiss, "and not stop until your voice gives out." Another, deeper kiss.

She whimpers again, louder than ever. The moment her mouth is free, she gasps, "Please."

He pulls her down onto his cock.

It fills her perfectly, thick and hard, a smooth solid pressure sliding up into her. She gasps breathlessly, with a feeling not unlike awe, and when she thumps down into his lap with his cock fully inside her she throws her arms around him and clings, squeezing him tightly by all available means.

"Beautiful," he murmurs into her hair. "You're so fucking beautiful, Lynne. My treasure."

She moans. She feels utterly helpless, even more so than the night he killed her, because that was her death but this is her life, vistas of eternity opening before her tear-blurred eyes. He can do anything he wants with her. Every breath she takes is at his mercy. Every sensation she feels is at his will. And his will is this, his mercy is this, the thing he does with his unfathomable power is find out exactly what she wants and then give it to her as hard as possible.

She feels loved.

He wraps his arms around her and just holds her for a moment, still and quiet and gentle, with his lips resting on the top of her head in a lingering kiss.

Then he shifts his grip and tugs her down a little farther, and lifts her up, and pulls her down again. It's very slow and very gentle and still displays the immense inescapable strength of his body, the same strength that held her away from him until he was satisfied of her intent.

It's breathtakingly hot. She clings to him, surrendering completely, open and willing and pliant in his magnificently powerful hands. Every tiny movement, every shift of her weight, brings her so much pleasure that it feels like being delicately caressed by a bolt of lightning.

He fucks her, slow and sweet and utterly unstoppable, for a few long delicious minutes.

Then he bends his head to kiss her neck. Slowly, sweetly. He doesn't use his teeth at all.

But what if she wants his teeth?? What then???

She squirms helplessly on top of him. He's so good. It's so good. She could do this forever—but she wants those teeth—but she doesn't know how to ask—but he's pretty good at giving her exactly what she wants without her having to ask for it...

"My lovely girl," he says, "my Lynne, my treasure, I love how much you want me..." He kisses her neck again.

Oh, is he doing it on purpose—?! She moans a wordless plea for mercy.

He keeps right on kissing her neck, while his cock moves inside her with the slow certain force of the rising tide.

Her whimpers become increasingly desperate. It feels—what's the word for when you'd call something perfect if you didn't know how much better it could be—simultaneously tantalizing and deeply satisfying, a combination she would not previously have thought possible.

"If you want this then tell me," he breathes against her neck.

She's beyond words at this point but she can manage some very emphatic noises.

He bites down.

It hurts at first, when his fangs break the skin and drive into the flesh beneath, and then her life is trickling down his throat and she can't feel anything but pleasure. She's pretty sure she screams, but she barely hears the sound. She's pretty sure she thrashes wildly, but she's still pinned in place by those glorious hands.

He keeps her going like that for a long, long time.

When he finally takes his mouth away, it's so that she can feel it properly when he comes inside her.

She collapses against him, whimpering.

He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head and makes soothing wordless murmurs into her hair.

"You're... really good," she sighs. "Really really good."