Boy, was she -eager-.<br/><br/>Donovan kept telling himself, reminding himself that this wasn't really Methuseld herself talking. This was some dark creature who had inhabited her body, even -changed- it, and as long as he kept telling himself that, he'd be able to manage whatever guilt that might be summoned from his fucking a woman whom he wasn't sure even -tolerated- him. If he thought of this darker version of the General as another woman entirely, the entire ordeal would actually quite possibly be very enjoyable...<br/><br/>She demanded, though, that he produce his tool for her to admire, touch, use and abuse, he reckoned. She was impatient, feeling a sort of need that he, himself, was also experiencing. Apparently this manifestation of the General did not appreciate foreplay, but rather simply wanted to get down to business – the busienss of carnal stroking and plunging.<br/><br/>She moved her foot expertly, and he expected to feel the harsh cut of her then elevated heel cut into his flesh – but it didn't. She moved with smooth precision, pushing his breeches down further as her hand moved forward to glide gloved fingertips along his skin, then down and under to cradle his sack. He tensed, expecting a terrifying squeeze or some other painful gesture – yet she surprised him again with a light touch that tore a soft moan from his throat, whether he wanted to or not. That single touch from her, so soft – encouraging – caused a surge of hot warmth down his length, swelling him to fullness and firmness now, like the mold of a blade being poured.<br/><br/>Her hand stroked upward, her movements slow yet confident as her leather-covered fingers and palm caressed and glided across his turgid flesh. She gave him a few long, slow pumps of her hand, her fingers wrapped around his cock like the handle of a mace or club – yet too thick for her thumb and fingertips to touch. He surely felt like solid steel in her grasp, even when she squeezed, as if testing him to make sure he would suit her needs. The faint hint of pain, the slightest suggestion of roughness was like a permissive gesture, silent yet something they both understood – she was challenging him -not- to go easy on her... because it was quite likely she wouldn't go easy on him.<br/><br/>Dark Methuseld's voice issued its sultry challenge, demanding that he show her what he was made of. She adjusted herself and he followed her lead, moving as she did, positioning himself perfectly. He, too, felt the brush of his cockhead agaisnt her waiting, welcoming petals, as if daring him to make the plunge. The tip brushed agaisnt moistened flesh, and he knew without a doubt she was prepared for him. Well... she was prepared for -this-. The fact that it was -him-, in particular, was of little consequence, he was aware.<br/><br/>Donovan aimed not to disappoint, though, as he suddenly surged his hips forward, forcing her flower to part for the invasion of his girth. Her tunnel widened and stretched as the curve of his glans forced itself into her, spreading and parting, gliding across wet, silken flesh until he had embedded half of his length inside her. There, as the pushing became more resistant, he paused.<br/><br/>“Perhaps you do not deserve -all- of it... you dark -bitch-,” he growled softly, referring only to the half of his generous length that he had spitted her with so far. His hands blurred into motion, reaching for her wrists and roughly pinning them to the rock to either side of her head. The urge to tease her was not a strong one, though, not when his own need might very well have equaled her own. As much as he tried to pretend this wasn't Methuseld's body he was enjoying, part of him knew it was still her, to some degree. Part of him hoped that she would forgive him for this – likely the only way he would ever get to enjoy the General's body in such a way.<br/><br/>And part of him hoped that she would be able to feel every single stroke.<br/><br/>His hips eased back – and rushed forward again, accompanied with a faint grunt as he plowed into her a second time. This time, nothing stopped him from hilting, pressing her ass back against the stone beneath her, giving her body no room to absorb the impact, no way to lessen the penetration. Her body was simply forced to take it all, filling her with a full, firm thrust that might have made lesser women cry out in pain.<br/><br/>His body tensed, muscles in his chest, flanks, and hips tight, his cut abs contracting as he then set into motion, withdrawing back and plunging forth, steadily picking up speed. His hands around her wrists tightened even more, his big arms as strong as corded steel-made-flesh. He pounded into her relentlessly, the soft sound of the skin on the front of his thighs and hips smacking into the flesh on the back of her legs and ass growing louder as the intensity increased. Only after the sixth or seventh plunge did he allow himself to breathe again, letting out a long, low groan of pleasure. His sack slapped against the curves of her ass cheeks, too, each time he filled her cunt with his cock. Balls heavy with seed eager to be delivered and dispersed, eager to rush forth with the bliss that it brought.<br/><br/>But not yet... Not quite yet....