Zevlor is as inexorable as the tide when he finds his rhythm. He is giving you no quarter, rolling his hips like ocean swells, crashing into you as breakers crash against high cliffs. His pace is slow at first, but deep and hard, jerking your whole body upward with each thrust despite his hold on your legs and your desperate grip on his horns. Still, he knows what he's doing and maintains just enough control to tilt his hips at the perfect devastating angle to batter over and over at that particular spot inside you that sends arcs of pleasure racing through you. You cry his name, the friction threatening to tumble you over the edge of sanity, and he shifts, infuriatingly, angling down, deeper, keeping you on the brink for a desperate time, wanting you to lose yourself when he does and not a moment sooner.
The only sounds in your world are your harsh panting, his bestial growls, and the sharp slapping of flesh as he picks up the pace. The only sights his blazing eyes, gritted teeth, and rippling torso. He consumes you. There is nothing else in existence but this glorious force of nature pounding himself into you, the ridges of his shaft igniting every nerve in you, dragging his name from your swollen lips over and over until you're hoarse with pleading. You feel him start to shudder, his movements becoming more erratic, his hot skin dripping sweat. He gives one more agonizing thrust and stops, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing in shuddering gulps. You think he's finished, but he manages to hold back his release. You stare at him in amazement and he laughs, leaning down to flick the points of his tongue teasingly against your slack mouth. His voice is a rumble, a low animal sound, a thrilling vibration against your chest.
"Not yet."
You're still gasping for breath, desperate, writhing, dragging on his horns and willing him with every fiber of your being to continue. You exhort him not to stop, not now. You were so close and the sudden stillness is almost unbearable.
He releases you and drags himself erect on his knees, seizing you to bring you with him and keep himself inside you, and then, hooking his elbows under your thighs, cups your bottom. You hang there, impaled on him still, your whole body in the air, your hands cramped, locked around his horns. His grin is feral as his glowing eyes pierce you, and he barks one gravelly demanding word...
"Beg."
