Belong to me, too?

What do you feel
when I’m in you?
When I’m fucking you
and you’re spread for me,
when you’re howling my name
and I have you pinned
like some perfect butterfly,
impaled by me,
held against the velvet coverlet.
Do you try to hold your breath,
or are those sounds
the unraveling of screams
bitten and strained
through clenched teeth?
When you are all mine,
do the thoughts in your head
belong to me, too?

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About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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