The rage is nearly unbearable. I'm caught in between the life of my normal existence and the flooding, red hot pulsation of my true and external self. Part of me doesn't want to hurt her, but the other part of me, the part that is so unforgivably strong, is rising through, bursting through my docile and caring skin to bare it's ensiform claws. I am rushing towards my orgasm and I am dragging her alongside me. It is not as if I don't love, don't care, but I have burst through my quotidian expectations after enduring much painful restraint and subtle resentment.
I enter her from behind, clutching onto her hips. My eyes squinch into acute arches and saliva slips between my sharpening canines. I grind my teeth as painful growls erupt from my larynx, I will not be able to speak when 'tomorrow' comes. She is arching into me and she is enjoying my rough attempt at human love. Tears are forming between the two of us and I slow. I move my body painfully slow as I passionately thrust into her, making sure to rub her G spot with attentive precision. Her attempts to gain control over the sensory overload by pressing her thighs together fails. I carefully thrust into her deeply and her legs spring apart. I notice every beautiful contour of her body, every clench of every finger up against the pillow that she is straddling for support and I ease off of my roughness, for I won't gain my full orgasm until she feels my love, feels fully safe, and entirely pleased.
Thick scratches are following my clawing nails, drawing rich lines of deep, wet, crimson blood. She turns her chin towards me and I hear something rumbling inside of her own voice box. She is becoming one with me. I gently and forcefully twist her onto her back so that I can rub up into her easier. I dip into her apex and fill her to the fullest. I adjust my hips sharply and then start rocking into her, back and forth we go. I start slow, feeling her give up her tensions and give into me. She is gasping and vocalizing. I am picking up on every velvety breath and every silky moan. She feels my small but strong arms snake through the tiny arch in her back, hooking into her shoulders and pushing her down onto me, and me into her luscious and feminine frame. She feels me lifting her hips as I thrust deeper into her tight, smooth, wetness. Her moans become louder and I can tell we are getting close.
I kiss her parted lips . . . I love her and I can't help myself. My mouth spreads and kisses the soft and satiny skin of her neck, meanwhile I am taking in her pheromones and I am trying, so deftly, to control my growing desires. In just a few hours I will be human, small, insignificant, and wrong once again, but right now, in this space of blissfully painful time that is ever fleeting, my blood cuts through me and I do what my full self wishes. My body is my temple and this place commands worship, it desires sacrifice, and it runs for respect.
Her body is tired, I sense it. I am nearly at my place of pleasure but the human part of me fears that she won't be able to take it once I arrive. It is in this time that Iris, the other who suffers from the lusting pain of the Rabiosa, arrives with vengeance. She is now with me and she growls with lusty rage and revenge.
The passion lasts for endless, loving hours. We give and we take though we have so little of ourselves to provide. I breathe heavily as the blood from my fresh wounds wets me. She licks my wounds clean and rubs into the space between my collar bone and my neck. We are momentarily satiated but passion may slip into us and force us into the frantic, feverish, and "barbaric" sexual mania that has gripped us for the past countless hours. The insanity has left us without strength, physically and emotionally. I look into her eyes and I wonder when I will feel this fullness again. I know that I will be human soon and the thought fills me with fear, loathsome guilt, anger and sorrow. The Rabiosa has depleted, but I am far from being cured.