I told you I wasn’t here to be gentle.
And you laughed — that low, reckless laugh —
the kind people make right before the consequences catch up to them.
You told me to prove it.
So I did.
I didn’t raise my voice.
Didn’t lift a finger higher than I needed.
Just stepped closer
until the air between us felt like voltage,
until your breath stuttered like a warning you ignored.
I took your wrist the way storms take rooftops —
not violently,
inevitably.
I pinned you to the moment,
pressed the truth against you
before the door even closed.
My fingers found your throat,
not to silence,
only to remind you
that you asked for a fire
and I don’t do small flames.
Your pulse jumping like a sinner in a spotlight
told me everything.
You stood there trembling with anticipation,
and I watched every layer of your composure split.
Watched pride fall from your shoulders
like fabric that never stood a chance.
You told me to tie you up with intention —
and I did:
slow knots,
patient knots,
the kind that make people forget
who they were before they surrendered.
I made you wait.
Made you feel the gravity of wanting.
Made you understand the cost of daring me.
You tried to speak,
but I cut the words from your lips with a look —
villains don’t take instructions,
I said.
They take devotion.
And you gave it.
Every shiver.
Every breath you tried to swallow quiet.
Every moment you tried and failed
to hide how deeply you wanted to come undone.
When you finally reached the edge,
when your whole body was shaking with the weight of it,
I held you there —
a suspended prayer,
a tension stretched to breaking —
because I wanted to watch the halo slip.
Wanted to witness the exact second
your resistance collapsed
into pure, unguarded need.
And when I finally let you fall —
it wasn’t mercy.
It was inevitability.
It was the consequence you laughed at earlier,
catching you by the throat.
When you melted into me,
breathing like you’d survived a storm,
I brushed my mouth against your cheek
and whispered into your trembling skin:
You asked for the devil.
Don’t tremble now that he answered.