She further offered herself to him, with that layer of stars, staying on her lower lips when he made her legs part for his viewing pleasure. What a pretty place, and what a confession. Here he was, serving her up torture, and she had the stomach and the loins to enjoy it? He wasn't offended, of course. The swell around his diaphragm indicated to the opposite, actually. He nodded as though she'd preformed well, simply by letting her body do what it did.<br/><br/>She'd been focused on his hand and cock, which helped in giving his ego pleasure. There was not much he could do beyond that, than paint her. While she flinched she didn't move away, and let herself be the object for his boiling lust. How quietly she'd walked in the halls of the galleries and here, at home, carrying some kind of aloof dignity, and now she let him have that, soaking in his signature and scent, allowing her beautiful face and tongue to be his. When she coughed he felt validated.<br/><br/>She tried to express her turmoil though the thick wealth he'd left inside her cheeks, and it sounded like a tribute to him, because he was the maker of both her drowning and her other hurts. When a woman breathes it's beautiful, and her pained intakes through her nose were particularly attractive. It was simply the taste of the beast he was becoming. Roan realized he'd been tense before, perhaps all people are around each other, but with the weight of her secret gone, and even the convention between two humans set aside, he felt free with her, to become whoever he was underneath the social mask.<br/><br/>He swallowed his saliva when she swallowed his seed. Obedient little angel, eating what he told her to. Perhaps this was love then, and maybe he ought to use it the way he wanted, like any man does to any creature that binds itself to him. She was now a world of amusement, and he was allowed to be as miserable and happy about that as he wanted. The way she looked at him next, his white lines on her, around the eyes that asked him for help to rid of her current suffering, it was like someone<br/><br/>asking their god for grace.<br/><br/>She tried, like any pious heart, to help herself, too. He didn't understand at first, the fierce bow, but saw it with wide lids when she whipped the back of her head against the hard of the door. A dull sound - her skull muted through her skin and her hair. Brutal in its subtlety. But she'd failed. She was rendered there, blind and unknowing, floating on her pain and asking him for help with her helplessness. Perhaps it was the angels that made others into gods, because he felt completely fulfilled with the need he saw in her predicament. Because if man can contribute anything, it is violence.<br/><br/>"Would you like to sleep, darling?" he asked, and sat down. It would have been tender if his still alert and standing cock hadn't made it vulgar, primal. She might answer to make him feel more like a titan, or she could be quiet, which would also underline his power. He stroked her cheek, which streaked his leavings on her complexion. as his fingers lifted, strings of his lust would hold on. Really, she was gorgeous like this. "I'll help you." he promised the woman who had made herself delirious without the result she wanted.<br/><br/>The compromised hand grabbed the top of her head by her beautiful hair in a mess. He pulled her toward him, almost like he'd kiss her always obedient mouth. He simply licked it, to help clean of the beads of him she'd missed. "You're not strong enough." he explained lovingly, forgiving. "But I am." It would seem odd then that he only slowly placed her head back against the door, as though aiming to make her comfortable.<br/><br/>She wanted it fast of course, to cut the chords to the sensory festival that was wrecking her reality. There were other ways to usher in an escape. He let go of her head when it was properly propped, and took her hands instead, crossing them high over that ringing skull. It would bring further pain to her, but it would also make her perfectly vulnerable. His knees were on either side of one of her thighs. His cock gently touched the blooming mark on the skin protecting the broken rib. The very seat of her pain.<br/><br/>Roan touched the still smeared head to the place his foot had broken her, and then pushed harder, to upset the piece of rib and the lung it stabbed. His hands, crossed over hers where he had them pinned on the door, became support for his forehead too, as he looked down on the bloodless massacre. He pushed harder with his member at the abused area, and gasped in sadistic accomplishment, like he revered her for her ability to feel pain. He continued to thrust against her as though they were making love, when in reality it was the same as punching her where she was injured. She couldn't very well hold on to wakedness if this continued, as his thrusts became harder.<br/><br/>"Go ahead and go to sleep if you want, Iris." he offered, kindness in his huffing breaths.