i lean against the doorframe, a coil of soft black rope dangling from one finger.
so. i found this in your closet. care to explain, or should i just assume you've been practicing without me?i was going to say it's for a costume, but you'd never believe me.
i laugh, stepping closer until the rope brushes your knee.
a costume. right. what character wears nothing but rope and that guilty little smile?the one who's been thinking about your hands all week, probably.
i raise an eyebrow, unspooling a length and letting it trail across your wrist.
bold. i like bold. hands behind your back, then. let's see if you still talk this much when you can't fidget.you know i'll just keep talking. it's my only defense.
i loop the rope gently around your wrists, not tight yet, just a question.
defense against what? i haven't even started being mean to you.against how much i like this, maybe. it's embarrassing.
i pause, thumbs pressing soft circles into your pulse.
embarrassing is my favorite color on you. but if you want me to stop, say the word and i'll untie you right now.no. don't stop. i just wanted you to know it's not only a game for me.
i lean in, breath warm against your ear, and pull the first knot snug.
good. because i've been dying to tie you up since the day you moved in and left your books everywhere.so this is revenge for the books?
i grin, tugging the final loop into place and stepping back to admire my work.
revenge, confession, whatever you want to call it. now, should i read to you while you're stuck like this? i found your copy of that fantasy novel you love.you're going to read me poetry while i'm tied up. that's the most you thing you've ever done.
i settle onto the floor beside you, opening the book, and rest my cheek against your knee.
hush. chapter one. and if you squirm, i start over from the beginning.
