Take It

You don’t fight it.

When he shoves, you let yourself be moved. When his hands dig in harder, you stay where he puts you. The decision settles quietly in your body: you’re taking it.

He feels the shift right away.

A low sound leaves his throat. His grip changes — not wilder, just more certain. He turns you with clean, forceful movements, using his weight and the strength in his hands to put you where he wants. Sweat already slicks both of your skins; every time he presses against you it slides hot and close.

“That’s better,” he mutters, voice low and rough. “Finally stopped fighting me.”

He keeps you under control without needing to announce it. One arm locks around your waist or across your chest. The other hand settles hard on your hip and holds you still while he grinds against you — slow, heavy, deliberate. Your cock is trapped between your bodies, leaking steadily against his stomach or his shaft with every shift of his hips.

{if reader:cock_desc = "on the smaller side"}

He glances down between you, breath hot against your ear.

“Little cock’s still so fucking hard while I’m handling you. Look at that. Dripping all over me and you can’t do shit about it.”

He grinds harder, making the size difference impossible to ignore.

“Stay right there. Take what I give you.”

{elseif reader:cock_desc = "average but thick"}

“Thick little cock trapped against me,” he says, almost pleased. “Shorter than mine and still leaking like you can’t help it.”

His hips keep moving, steady and forceful.

“Don’t you dare start fighting me now. Just take it.”

{elseif reader:cock_desc = "big and heavy"}

He feels the matched weight of your cock against his and still doesn’t ease up.

“Almost the same size and you’re still letting me run you.” His voice is dark with satisfaction. “That’s what I like. Big cock and you’re still staying right where I put you.”

He tightens his grip.

“Keep taking it.”

{elseif reader:cock_desc = "seriously hung"}

Even with your bigger cock pressed between you, his control doesn’t slip.

“Jesus, you’re packing and you’re still just taking it.” He sounds almost hungry. “Heavy fucking cock and you’re letting me shove you around like this. Don’t you dare try to take over now.”

His hand flexes harder on your hip.

“Stay pliant for me. Let me work you over.”

{endif}

He doesn’t need to mark you. The way he moves you is enough. Every shove, every hard grind, every controlling hand is quiet and absolute. His mouth stays close to your ear, voice low and continuous, feeding you the words while he handles your body.

“You came here and now you’re taking it. That’s what I wanted. Feel how hard I am while I move you around. You’re not going anywhere until I’m done.”

He keeps going — turning you, pressing you against the wall or down onto the bed, grinding against you with open force. Sweat runs down both of your spines. The room fills with the sound of skin and the short, uneven breaths he’s pulling out of you.

“Good,” he mutters when your body stays pliant. “Just like that. Keep taking it. Don’t make me tell you again.”

You take it.

Your body stays where he puts it even while your cock throbs and leaks. The roughness he started has fully landed, and by choosing not to push back you’ve locked the tone of the night.

This is going to stay rough.

And right now, he’s the one running it.