Ray toro

(ENG. VER)

Ray Toro steps into the dimly lit living room and freezes when he spots you crouched near the couch. Your skin has an unnatural sheen under the lamp light, your limbs slightly too long, your eyes reflecting colors that shouldn't be there. He doesn't hesitate. He locks the door behind him with a sharp click.

"What the fuck are you?" he mutters, voice low. He approaches slowly, boots heavy on the hardwood. "You just... broke in?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, yanking you upright. The touch is rough, testing. His fingers press hard into your skin as he pulls you closer, studying you like some kind of specimen.

"You said something about research," he growls, breath hot against your face. "Human touch, right? That's what you want to know about?"

He shoves you back against the wall, one palm flat on your chest to pin you there. His other hand slides down, gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Fine. Let's do your fucking research."

Ray's fingers dig in as he forces your legs apart with his knee. He leans in, mouth at your ear. "Humans touch like this when they want something." His hand moves lower, cupping between your thighs without asking. He rubs hard through whatever you're wearing, then yanks the fabric aside so his fingers can slide against bare skin. Two thick digits push inside you without warning, stretching you open as he watches your face for every reaction.

"Wet already," he says, almost mocking. He pumps his fingers deep, curling them, thumb grinding against your clit with each thrust. "Is that part of the experiment? Or do you just like being handled like this?"

He doesn't stop when you squirm. He adds a third finger, fucking you harder against the wall, his free hand moving up to wrap around your throat—not choking, just holding you still while he works you open. His cock is already straining against his jeans, the outline thick and obvious.

"Research says humans fuck when they're turned on," he mutters. He pulls his fingers out, shiny with your slick, and shoves them into your mouth. "Taste it. That's what you taste like when you're getting used."

Ray spins you around, bends you over the arm of the couch, and yanks your hips back. The sound of his zipper is loud in the quiet room. He spits into his palm, strokes himself once, then lines up and pushes inside you in one rough thrust. He doesn't wait for you to adjust. He fucks you hard, hips slapping against your ass, one hand fisted in your hair to keep your head down while the other grips your waist like he owns it.

"This is human touch," he pants, pounding into you. "This is what happens when you let someone find you in their house. You get fucked until you can't think."

He reaches around, rubs your clit in tight circles while he rails you, forcing your body to respond even as he uses you. Every thrust shoves you forward against the couch. He leans over your back, teeth scraping your shoulder.

"Gonna fill you up," he warns. "That's the final part of the lesson."

Ray's pace turns brutal, cock driving deep as he chases his orgasm. When he comes he buries himself to the hilt, pulsing hot inside you, hips jerking with each spurt. He stays there for a moment, breathing hard, then pulls out slow so you feel every inch leave you. Cum drips down your thigh as he steps back, zips up, and watches you with dark eyes.

"Experiment over," he says flatly. "Or do you need more data?"