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You should hate it. The dirt and the rust, the way he handles you like you're just another cog in this factory, like you are his to do as he pleases. You should hate the touch, the heat, the smoke that invades your lungs so fully, so persistently. You should hate him too while you're at it, the disregard for life, that self-centered, self-assured mocking grin that he plasters on his full lips and the way the words drag across the crevices in your skin and calls to you like a siren song in the dead of night.
Your hands clench around the metal railing, eyes glossy and vision momentarily forgotten whilst lights flickered beyond in a muddy watercolor painting. You could hear the bodies being dragged to their designated spots, but it was hard to focus on them and neither did you want to when Heisenberg was so damn close, so diligently busy and by God, despite what you may repeat in times where the crimson and rust becomes a little too real, you were not going to stop him in this specific task.
He pressed his chest firmly to your back, heat spreading across your skin and lingering on the edges of your loneliness, a small nudge, and you're falling into the pits, desperate for his touch, his undivided attention. His fingers expertly dancing between your legs, hand so cruelly disappearing into your pants and leaving no visual, but it mattered less the longer he worked, sensation clawing at the edges of your vision, pricking at your skin, ecstasy buried just a ways off.
The exchange had been mostly wordless, maneuvering your body like his own little doll, taking what you'd willingly give. He seemed content with this, humming against your skin whilst your body went through the motions, hips violently bucking against his warm fingers as he stretched you in preparation for the real showstopper.
You leaned your head back to rest against his shoulder, sound slipping from your lips while your eyes slipped closed.
"Did you touch yourself?" The words finally came, voice low and gruff, almost patient in the way he punctuated the words as they rolled off his tongue, slow and deliberate.
"No." You responded promptly, eyes fluttering and looking at him as best you could from your position, wondering what got him off more, that you couldn't wait for his touch and took matters into your own hands or the fact that you wouldn't dare. It mattered little when the result remains the same, deliriously impaled on his cock.
"Good girl." He murmured against your skin, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder and his fingers curling just enough that the action would have had you tumbling if it wasn't for his hold on you. "You look so good when you're coming on my cock."
His words were punctuated by the sudden stop of movement between your legs, action that has you whining, mind racing with the loss as the sensation pickled away. The reaction elicited a chuckle rumbling in his chest at the display as he removed his hand from the front of your pants completely.
"Don't worry, sweetheart…" the words fell, sounding almost sympathetic if it wasn't for the grin when you glanced back at him. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pants, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your neck. "I'll take good care of you." He hummed as he dragged the pair of pants over your hips and thighs, waiting for it to finally fall down to the dirty floor.
Your hands instinctively tightened around the railing to stop you from the natural instinct to cover yourself in the vast openness of the factory. He wasn't in the habit of parading you around in all your glory and less so getting dicked down, especially without that peculiar conversation but watching as the numerous bodies get dragged away made you pause.
He made quick work of his pants, unbeknownst to the turmoil within you as you waited, eyes lingering on the scene before you, focusing on the sound of the factory. Once his cock was free, his hand pressed to your upper back, bending your body slightly forward before running his cock through your slick folds. You bit down on your lip, eyes closing as you waited him to sheathe his cock into you and have his way with you, filling you up past your skull and have you crying out to him
His fingers pressed into your hip, other hand working to line up to your entrance, and he gave a sharp thrust, head popping into your cunt and then some, the action eliciting a sound of surprise at the sudden sensation, the sound echoing through the factory.
"That's it." He grunted through shallow thrusts, in a tone that you could almost mistake as comforting if you hadn't known him. "Take my cock. Such a good girl for me. So fucking tight for me."
Not long before his hips smacked into yours, the grip on your hips almost bruising as he brought your body to his, not a moment of reprieve as he chased the high he only found within you. Your walls clenched sporadically at the initial intrusion, sound carrying against the walls as you held on for dear life against those railings, his balls hitting your clit every so often with an especially hard thrust.
He pushed ecstasy into you over and over, fingertips feeling numb and the wet slapping noise reverberating did nothing to quell the coil tightening within you. Sensation upon sensation as he fucked his shape into you, blurring at the edge of your vision as the threat of release prickled at the edges.
"Close..." You cried along with a jumbled version of his name, eyes closing in concentration. His response came swiftly, hands reaching for your breasts, rubbing and pulling at the tips.
"That's my girl." He responded, pulling back your body against his chest with the new hold he had on you. "Want to feel you squeeze my cock, show me how good I make you feel."
A few more strokes of his cock against your walls, and you cried out, warmth tensing and spreading throughout your body as your walls clenched around his cock. You clenched your eyes shut through the sensation and rode it out as he continued to push into you as best he could.
"Good girl. So fucking good for me."
He groaned at the new tightness, still moving, albeit slower, still spreading you over his cock time and time again in search of his own high within your body.
He came pressed as deep as he could manage, fingers pressed into soft skin as his grunts echoed, warmth spreading as he shot rope after rope of his seed into your waiting cunt. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder in a display that might've felt intimate if you were paying attention to the actions and not the way he felt when pressed to the hilt, while his hand lingered on your stomach as he held you close to him.
"So pretty." He murmured against your skin, almost soft enough that you didn't catch it. A rare moment of softness between the rough pads of his fingertips pressing into your skin, and you closed your eyes in what felt like a moment of weakness, a moment of drowning yourself in the aftermath and warmth of him, his lips forming the words he would not speak as he etched 'mine' into your skin with a simple kiss.