Wolfman by Boris Vallejo
Human (adj): Having or showing those positive aspects of nature and character regarded as distinguishing humans from other animals.
I don’t need love to be delicate touches from the tips of your fingers. Barely grazing the skin, careful not to bruise. I don’t need palms upon my breast to cup delicately and massage tenderly. I don’t need soft lips to lightly kiss my flesh; pressing down onto my skin and departing swiftly without a trace. I don’t need love to physically manifest itself as society sees it – soft sheets and similar thrusts between the parted legs of a lover. Whispers of “I love you” waltz though the temperate air. I don’t need love to be lax stroking of hair and fingers tracing the outline of my face. I don’t want a mindful body atop, aside, behind or below mine. Instead, I want you to be inside of and connected to your nature, your true identity; your primal animal.
I want love to manifest itself physically the way I understand it; you and me, dedicated to one another through a mutual understanding of our animal natures. You are my alpha, the dominant leader of which I obey and allow limitless access to my body. I am your beta, the one you own, protect and cherish vehemently. I feel your love through your ownership. I feel your love through you taking what is yours, and in doing so, love takes a different approach.
I’ve always been drawn to the way you sniff my hair and skin. The way you’d breathe me in. You’ve always noticed the slightest different between smells from one day to the next; a change in perfume, a change in body chemistry. I feel literal heat inside me as you bury your face aggressively into my neck without a care for how your rough whiskers left behind red irritation. Your lack of delicateness, to me, is a direct translation of your need for me. Love looks different between us, King, doesn’t it? Love is the bite to the back of my neck or shoulders sending a fiery streak through my able body. You sink your teeth deeper into my flesh as your cock sinks deeper within my cunt. The pressure from your heavy sac against the delicate skin of my sex makes me feel at the mercy of your masculinity. Your purposeful thrusts indicate a deep need for penetration. Each thrust into me is another symbol of your power and control over my body. The harder the thrust, the more I feel your need. The more you restrict my body movements with your hands or under the weight of your mass, the more I feel loved. I’ve given you permission to take, at will, and you do. You take with your hands as the pads of your fingers leave bruising upon my hips. You take with your lips as they wrap around my hardened nipples. You take with your tongue as you lick my flesh, leaving the mark of your saliva upon my skin. You take as you allow your body to manipulate mine, with little regard for my comfort. You take as you don’t allow my choice.
I feel love more passionately as your words transform into unintelligible guttural moans or throaty growls. I feel love the more you fill me up with your cum. You push yourself inside of me, causing what you’ve previously left behind to seep beyond the seam of where you and I meet. I feel love the more I am used; I feel love the more I am marked by you. I feel your love as I lay upon the puddle of our fluids that spilled out of me and collected itself upon the sheets. I feel our love as some of my hair breaks way from the pull of being interlaced between your fingers for leverage. I feel love as you press my upper body and face down into the ground or upon the bitter frigid wall. I feel love as I’m bent to the lengths my flexibility can handle. Feel love as I ache from your repeated entries. Feel love as you release yourself inside of me, feeling each kick of your cock against the sides of my plush inner flesh. I feel love the more my sent transforms into the smell of you. I feel your love as you stay inside of me, allowing the weight of your body to be supported by mine. You don’t remove yourself from me, instead allowing your body to decide when your cock departs from within me. As the heaviness of your now flaccid cock falls from my pussy, a stream of our love trickles out from within. I feel love the more you make a mess of me. I feel your love the more you are selfish with me, possess me.
I feel your love with the loss of your human.