Come closer.
Not in a rush, not yet.
Let the quiet feel you before I do.
Your breath skims my throat,
warm enough to bruise the air,
and I learn your name by the way you hesitate,
by the way you wait for permission
you already know you have.
I like you better like this,
undone by proximity,
thinking too much,
wanting harder than you planned.
Desire looks good on you
when it has nowhere to hide.
My hands are deliberate.
I take my time learning your reactions,
the soft betrayals of your body,
the way control slips without a sound.
There is no need to hurry
when surrender is already kneeling.
Every touch is a promise I intend to keep.
Every pause is a reminder
that I decide when you get more.
You arch into the silence,
aching for the moment I finally close the distance.
When I do,
it is slow and certain and unavoidable.
You melt into it,
into me,
into the truth of how badly you wanted this.
And when the night exhales around us,
heavy with heat and shared breath,
you will realize too late
that I never took anything from you.
You gave it.
------
And still,
I do not spend it all at once.
I let the truth sit between us,
warm and trembling,
a secret neither of us denies.
Your eyes ask for mercy,
but your body answers first,
honest in ways your mouth forgot.
I like that kind of honesty.
The kind that slips through silence,
that gathers in your breath,
that makes pretending useless.
You are beautiful like this,
caught between pride and need,
trying not to beg
with every part of you begging.
My voice stays low.
Not cruel,
not kind,
only certain.
I tell you to breathe
because I want to hear
how badly you obey.
There is worship in the way you listen.
There is ruin in how softly you say my name.
I do not rush the fall.
I let you feel each second,
let the dark lean closer,
let the room forget everything
except heat,
skin,
and the small sounds
you cannot take back.
You reach for control
like it might still remember you.
It does not.
It leaves quietly,
without protest,
without farewell,
and I watch you understand
how sweet absence can become.
Then I touch you again,
slower than forgiveness,
closer than confession.
Your breath breaks open,
and for a moment
there is nothing left to hide behind.
No pride.
No distance.
No carefully chosen words.
Only you,
bare in the low light,
shaking from the truth
you trusted me enough to show.
I lean close enough
for my mouth to become a warning,
and this time
when you give in,
you know exactly
what you are giving.
The candle goes out.
Your hand stays open.