[There isn't much to do, when he's being shoved into, held down and choked, a rag doll in the hands of a killer. The little sounds escape him still, an attempt to grunt, struggle lightly, before parted lips and an apparently swollen tongue give way to a grin, skin turning different shades of color. He still manages to move his legs, if nothing else, wrapped around Cole's body to pull him even closer, to clamp around him as well.
He loves it. He fucking loves it. The lust, the wrath. Guilt somewhere in there waiting for the door to unlock so it can come flooding in like blood through a gash. Petre can't let Cole kill him, though, not unless either one of them wants something utterly disastrous to happen tonight, so with his brute strength, his hands come up to grab Cole's wrists, anchoring them in place while red-rimmed eyes stare sharply at him. This will go on for as long as it's minimally safe - for Cole - and now Petre just wants him to come, wants him to growl while he does, to be drenched in sweat and to fill Petre up with his anger and come.
Teeth clenched, he presses his brows, rolls his hips even harder, vessels tight, nostrils flaring. Come on come on come on -]
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He loves it. He fucking loves it. The lust, the wrath. Guilt somewhere in there waiting for the door to unlock so it can come flooding in like blood through a gash. Petre can't let Cole kill him, though, not unless either one of them wants something utterly disastrous to happen tonight, so with his brute strength, his hands come up to grab Cole's wrists, anchoring them in place while red-rimmed eyes stare sharply at him. This will go on for as long as it's minimally safe - for Cole - and now Petre just wants him to come, wants him to growl while he does, to be drenched in sweat and to fill Petre up with his anger and come.
Teeth clenched, he presses his brows, rolls his hips even harder, vessels tight, nostrils flaring. Come on come on come on -]