- And though I try to control myself each time... - Phosphorus is breathing heavily, but he doesn't think to slow down, except to take his hand off your ass, peering at the blossoming burn on your skin. - It's so hard not to lose my head. - His voice fades to a whisper as he slides his fingers over your skin again and traces the outline of his own palm, not denying the sadistic urge to press down on the burn.
How long a man endure the growing thirst for at least some contact?
Phosphorus had lasted fifteen years.
Neon green flames blazed everywhere he went over the years, the completely transparent skin covering his body for just as long, showing through the coal-black skeleton. Such a sight was a turn-on to few, except for the most extreme perverts. If there was anything he could do with people, it was to shake hands, but as for intimacy - Phosphorus maintained a forced celibacy.
But when they finally got out of jail, when Creature Commandos came in handy for the government, and when they were given more freedom... That's when he found his own pervert.
Hot hands cling to you, digging into your supple flesh as the room fills with mingled moans and the creaking of the bed - the castle is dark, everyone is asleep, and only here the neon fire lights the walls. Phosphorus' body is blazing, though, as it always does. He has shed most of his clothes: his pants are crumpled somewhere, his belt is tight around your wrists, and only his medical gown still covers his body a little. He can see you perfectly: the way you arch your back, the way your restrained hands twitch in an attempt to loosen the belt but only rub the redness of your wrists. He hisses again, closing his eyes for a few moments, feeling you convulsing on top of him.
Involuntarily, the hands on your body clench tighter - heat spills through your body, and another long moan echoes. The searing pain grips your buttocks for a second, leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation.