Something felt as though it changed, something had shifted, though she couldn't tell whether it was her imagination or not. Hadn't he said he was going to hurt her? Was he just taking a moment to decide the where and how of it? It was hard to properly think about it though with what was happening. That too struck her for a brief moment as being strange, ordinarily when he came to her bed she intentionally passed the time thinking about other things and with great ease. Now it was as though she could only take snatches of thought, even that she didn't want to think of other things.
There had been a fleeting concern that he'd do the opposite of what she'd said but it seemed apparent after a couple seconds that he had no intention of doing that. His hand was suddenly touching and grabbing at her - was he looking for somewhere to really hurt her? Her rear seemed a poor choice - it felt sort of nice but that was all. The same went for her breast when he moved there - it was probably possibly to bruise there but she couldn't imagine it with the way he touched her. He clearly realized this too because he suddenly sought out her throat and that made sense. Was he trying to scare her? She probably should have found a hand around her throat instinctively alarming but the possibility of him fatally strangling her never even crossed her mind. Tig laughed - or rather she tried to laugh, what came was not distinctively mirthful sounding, but something whinier and almost guttural.
Why wasn't he squeezing any harder? She wanted to demand this of him but could tell that her capacity for word-forming was almost nil; if he'd had his wand she'd have assumed he'd have hit her with a tongue-tying jinx or something. Thought soon followed the way of speech and the assortment of noises she was making didn't even register as originating from her.
Although she couldn't string a thought together, she had the distinct impression that she dying. His hand on her throat must be tighter than she realized and he was putting an end to her. He even seemed to be saying something to that effect, she thought. This was it. It all seemed to be reaching a conclusion and strangely it felt better than anything else she could ever recall. Her body seemed to writhe of its own accord, apparently it wasn't as ready to go out even if it was on a high. She made a loud, almost sob-like exclamation and was vaguely aware of her fingernails digging into him once more on their way to making a tight fist.
The tension in her body suddenly started to ebb and rational thought started to return to her. She wasn't dying at all, how ridiculous to have thought so! She couldn't explain it either but she was clearly not on the brink of a fatal asphyxiation - was his hand even still in the vicinity of her throat? She had questions suddenly and several of them, but still couldn't quite bring herself to speak. Was it incapability or unwillingness? The arm she'd clutched him with seemed suddenly to remember the rules of gravity and limply dropped to her side.
""
There had been a fleeting concern that he'd do the opposite of what she'd said but it seemed apparent after a couple seconds that he had no intention of doing that. His hand was suddenly touching and grabbing at her - was he looking for somewhere to really hurt her? Her rear seemed a poor choice - it felt sort of nice but that was all. The same went for her breast when he moved there - it was probably possibly to bruise there but she couldn't imagine it with the way he touched her. He clearly realized this too because he suddenly sought out her throat and that made sense. Was he trying to scare her? She probably should have found a hand around her throat instinctively alarming but the possibility of him fatally strangling her never even crossed her mind. Tig laughed - or rather she tried to laugh, what came was not distinctively mirthful sounding, but something whinier and almost guttural.
Why wasn't he squeezing any harder? She wanted to demand this of him but could tell that her capacity for word-forming was almost nil; if he'd had his wand she'd have assumed he'd have hit her with a tongue-tying jinx or something. Thought soon followed the way of speech and the assortment of noises she was making didn't even register as originating from her.
Although she couldn't string a thought together, she had the distinct impression that she dying. His hand on her throat must be tighter than she realized and he was putting an end to her. He even seemed to be saying something to that effect, she thought. This was it. It all seemed to be reaching a conclusion and strangely it felt better than anything else she could ever recall. Her body seemed to writhe of its own accord, apparently it wasn't as ready to go out even if it was on a high. She made a loud, almost sob-like exclamation and was vaguely aware of her fingernails digging into him once more on their way to making a tight fist.
The tension in her body suddenly started to ebb and rational thought started to return to her. She wasn't dying at all, how ridiculous to have thought so! She couldn't explain it either but she was clearly not on the brink of a fatal asphyxiation - was his hand even still in the vicinity of her throat? She had questions suddenly and several of them, but still couldn't quite bring herself to speak. Was it incapability or unwillingness? The arm she'd clutched him with seemed suddenly to remember the rules of gravity and limply dropped to her side.
""
