You know that I like to force you to look at me when you’re on your knees, but tonight you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me. I don’t know what you see, but I see in you a kind of beauty that I never thought existed.
I should be pulling on your leash or hair or forcing you between my legs or any of the myriad of things we both adore.
But I can’t take my eyes off of your worshipful adoration. You are at my feet, bound and leashed and pliant and willing. You have made yourself wholly and entirely vulnerable, knowing that I could ruin you in unforgivable ways. Trusting that I never would.
You melt when I cup your face in my free hand, closing your eyes as if to better feel my touch. You are so beautiful that I can’t say the word. Instead I kneel to kiss you.
You are so soft and gentle. I am not.
My free hand tangles itself in your hair. I pull on your leash to bring you close. You moan in that delicate way I adore.
I remember the way you smiled the first time I told you as much. And how you said that you only want to moan for me.
You act as a mirror to the parts of myself that I am incapable of seeing. Or refuse to see, rather. You show me that I am someone who is capable of giving you what you need, of making you feel safe and wanted.
Your breath quickens as I kiss across your jaw.
Tonight will end. You will wake up in my bed. You will leave and return and leave again and so on. And each time I will ask myself what I did to deserve you.
You begin to beg as I kiss one of your favorite spots. I feel myself smile against you.
