Just watched rain streak down the window of the bunker. It reminds me of the way sweat traces the lines of a lover’s back. I find myself craving a different kind of storm tonight. Not one of violence, but one of uncontrolled release—the kind where I’m pinned beneath him, his cock buried so deep in my ass that I feel every shudder of his climax, my own cries muffled against the cold metal floor. A different sort of battle, with a far more satisfying conclusion.