Controlled


If I could lose control, my fist would make love to your face, bruising and punishing. A blue-black kiss to mar your perfect skin, a brutal gift I bestow upon you to thank you for your contempt. No one should ever know what this does to me.

If I could lose control, a curse might escape my lips and all your fame, reverence and glory would fall down around you. I could make you hated, Harry Potter. Do you know what that would mean to me?

If you would lose control, you might just sate my hunger, alleviate my agony. You might let me be in control of you; let me feel your lips bruise under mine. Let me find out the delicious sounds you make, teach me what it takes to make you succumb. If you'd only let me be inside you...



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