A shiver shot involuntarily down her spine at the sharp, light tickling of claws on the back of her neck. Even with only the very tip of him pressing against her, he could probably feel how the motion made her clench and loosen again. She regained a bit of her senses as he played idly with her hair, then lost them again when he pulled and pushed against her again. She grunted, mostly pain. She'd been recently occupied, but he was significantly larger in pretty much every way, and fear made her tense. She heard him starting to purr again and scowled. Stupid asshole. "So happy for you," she grumbled out loud. "I'm glad you're having such a fantastic time, really. Fucker."
He rocked against her, and she could feel the withheld strength in his muscles. He could, she was fairly certain, shove his way in fairly effortlessly. She wasn't sure why he wasn't. It had been exactly what she'd been scared of; a fucking pneumatic ram (or maybe a pneumatic fucking ram) shoving right through delicate parts and leaving her to bleed out on the floor. Instead, thank god, he seemed content to prod. For now at least.
She let out a whine as she felt him push a little deeper in. The stretch was painful, but not overwhelming. And, surprisingly, not more than she could handle; at least so long as he stayed satisfied with a centimeter at a time. She didn't have a great deal of moisture to help him out--compared to how it could be, anyway--and she was clenched despite her attempts to make herself relax. She felt him slip further in, agonizing and slow and agonizingly slow. How much did he have in? It felt like half a mile... so probably like, the head, given her luck.