How? How can he know the depths of my soul, before even I have come to know there is a depth?..
Before I have scratched the surface, he is already delving beneath the waves. Before I discover a trickle, he has already learned how to time the coming and going of the tide. I am lost upon the very path in which bare toes stumble, but he.. He appears to be at the bending jolt of the curve. Standing beside the crooked little arrows, twiddling his thumb in debate on which direction to flick them toward. This way, that way, up or down, he seems to be fifteen steps ahead when I am still gathering my courage for the first. It is madness. A blissfully, tempting, frightening madness..
..And when you find your courage stolen, steal it back! Lace up the leather ties of your straight jacket, paint a smile upon your crooked lips, and dare to be thankful for the madness that makes you shine within the dark..
~ Author Unknown
Tuck away that sharpened tooth, and let loose the little bit of curve in which it captures.. but how? It is a prick to steal each breath, and it paints a vision of pleasure when his eyes flash behind my own. Seeing how such a simple action, a habitual clamping of thought to flesh, can summon his gaze to lower in keeping track. Every sweep of a moistened tip is noted. Each tilt of a head, each slow lace of sight to meet his but for a moment. I can see the threat as if it stands before me now, and some feral gleam of nature deep within unfurls in pleasure. Recognizing the predator in his gentlemen’s smile. Purring softly to goad, and push, until the moment where that flicker of demand passes through the mists of joy..and darkness rolls so sweetly that it covers the lands of skin. Taking as it wishes, and snuffing the warmth of the gleaming rays..replacing them with something more stark. Moonlight that pleads for the shadows to play with..
You’re in trouble, girl. I know..