Captured.
You know.
It doesn’t have to be with rope wound around your wrists.
Or hands pinning your hips.
Or a gaze that holds you in place.
It could be with a word.
Or an idea.
It could be this.
You, with your eyes closed, listening to me.
It could be the way my words find their way inside of you. The way they describe the shape of a hunger you are too embarrassed to admit.
You could be captured right now.
Your pulse may be moving a bit faster.
Your skin may be warmer.
Your breath may catch.
It’s perfectly natural to feel that way.
It’s how prey react when caught.
It’s how humans react when they feel danger.
It’s how _you_ react when your base needs are laid bare.
I see you.
I see the parts you are trying to hide.
I see the silhouette of your desire in the tilt of your head.
I see the hungers you can’t admit in the shying of your eyes.
I see you. And I know you.
I know the you that has been down the path through dark woods. You’ve pricked your fingers on the rosebush thorns and tasting blood, swore to avoid those paths again.
And yet they call to you.
And yet the scars on your fingers make you smile.
And yet.
Here you are.
In the dark woods again.
Alone.
No, not alone.
With a wolf.
With me.