I always knew there was something feral in me—something buried deep that didn’t want freedom… it wanted to be hunted. It wanted to be seen… and undone. To be found. To be taken apart piece by piece until nothing civilized remained.
I tried to bury it. Dress it in something softer, quieter. Something acceptable. But it never left.
It just waited in the quiet.
Then I found him—or maybe he found me. Not by accident. Not by chance.
Like something drawn across lifetimes, inevitable and patient. His eyes didn’t search—they recognized, as if he had been looking for me long before I ever knew to hide. He stepped closer, and something in me stilled. Not fear. Knowing.
He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question. He stripped himself beside me like the rest of the world no longer applied—like he was shedding a skin he’d outgrown long ago, his gaze already locked onto mine with something that felt less like desire and more like recognition. Possession. As if he had known me long before this moment… and had come back to claim what was his.
When he moved, it wasn’t pursuit—it was certainty. A slow, deliberate closing of distance that made running feel like a formality… a ritual we both understood.
He chased—not playful, not kind. Relentless.
I ran—something in me needed to feel the edge of it, the illusion that I could escape what was already woven into me.
The further I went, the more I felt him.
His presence stalked me through the dark, heavy and certain—his breath a low promise behind me, and yet he was all around me. In the air. In my breath. In the way my pulse betrayed me, matching something that wasn’t entirely my own anymore.
Every step I took only pulled him closer, like I was meant to run… meant to feel the illusion of escape before the inevitable.
Because I knew—deep down—I was never getting away. I was already giving in… but only after he earned it.
I felt him before he touched me—that shift in the air, that tightening in my chest. That moment where instinct stopped screaming run… and whispered stay.
His mouth met mine, and the world narrowed—collapsed—until there was nothing left but that consuming gravity. Not gentle. Not kind. Something deeper. Something that erased thought and left only instinct in its wake.
Hands that didn’t ask—only took. Pulling me back into him with a force that felt less like being taken and more like a claim. A force that erased distance, erased thought, erased time. Like I had always belonged in that space between his grasp and his breath.
His mouth found mine like a mark being sealed—deep and consuming, leaving no room for hesitation. There was no gentleness in it—only hunger sharpened into something almost ruthless. The world narrowed—collapsed—until there was nothing left but that consuming gravity.
Like he wasn’t discovering me.
My breath broke against him, my body answering in ways I couldn’t control—couldn’t deny. Every grasp, every pull, every edge of teeth and heat felt like it was unraveling something I had held together for far too long.
I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. I let it.
Because there was something darker beneath it all… something that didn’t feel like danger, but destiny twisted just enough to make it intoxicating.
Somewhere in that moment, broken free, something inside me recognized him too—not as something new… but as something returned.
We didn’t fall into each other. We didn’t lose ourselves in each other.
Instead—we blurred. We collided. Fierce. Unrestrained. Consuming.
Edges dissolving. Boundaries slipping. Until I couldn’t tell where my breath ended and his began—until even my thoughts felt shared. Echoed. Answered before they fully formed.
There was no chase left. No distance. No lines between. Only the aftermath—a quiet, heavy stillness thick with something deeper than release. Something binding.
As if, in finding me, he hadn’t just awakened what was wild…
Somewhere in the silence, beneath the fading echoes, I realized it should have terrified me—that loss of separation, that quiet slipping away of self.
But instead, it felt like relief. Like I had been holding myself together for so long, only to realize I was never meant to be whole on my own.
And in the stillness that followed—heavy and charged—I felt it settle in deeper than anything before. Not just desire. Not just connection.
Something binding. Something that didn’t loosen when he stepped back… because he hadn’t really stepped back at all.
He was still there. In my breath. In my thoughts. In the quiet spaces where I used to exist alone.
The most dangerous part—the part that lingered long after—wasn’t that he had found me.
It was that I no longer knew how to be without him.
I never wanted to be free—not from him.
By : @the-woman-i-embrace
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