THINKING ABOUT THE men who may fuck rough but love so softly. despite the heavy slam of his hips rutting into you he's got one arm snaked beneath your trembling body, nestled in the small of your back where the pad of his thumb draws small shape, tilting you upwards to meet every eager thrust while his other hand cradles the back of your head — even though there's a pillow below it — holding you so gently between scarred fingertips, tilting your chin up so he can swallow every little sound you make, every hitched breath and every shaky whimper while he pours praise between your parted lips, "that's my girl. just like that. such a good girl for me. i've got you."