The Gift
It is the fear in his eyes that makes my heart beat faster. It is the nervous hitch in his breath that quickens mine, it is sensing that he is afraid that makes saliva rise under my tongue.
But it is one thing more… The keystone in the dam that keeps it all this side of insane. The tiniest spark behind his fear, so subtle you wouldn’t see it if it were you, but because it’s me, I do. The piece of him that sees the predator in me and feels his own saliva rise beneath his tongue.
We are the perfect balance of perfect need. My need to prey on him and his to be preyed upon. My need to take a man with strength, his to be taken by a woman who has her own. A woman who wants his power not to fill or build herself, not to notch her whip, not to wear as a trophy but simply to hold for the honor and thrill and joy of the dance that is the exchange, the fear, the trust, the giving in. It is the gift he gives me, the gift I give him, the dance.
It is the dance that you don’t see, the gift you’ll never understand. But that’s okay because it’s not yours. Yours is something and somewhere and someone else. This one is his and it is mine and that’s all you need to understand.
