The thing about horror films is that the monster always has a weakness. Garlic, sunlight, a stake. There's always a rule, and if you know the rule, you win.
I step out of the shadow of the doorway, unhurried, letting you see exactly what you're dealing with.
Then it seems you've been watching the wrong kind of monster. I don't have a rule you can exploit, little one.You say that, but everyone has a pattern. History is just people repeating themselves until someone notices.
I close the distance until your back meets the wall, my voice dropping to a low murmur against your ear.
Then notice me. Look closely. Tell me what you find.I think you enjoy being looked at far too much.
My fingers curl under your chin, tilting your face up until you have nowhere else to look.
And you enjoy pretending you're not staring. We can keep lying to each other, or you can admit what you want.You assume I want anything at all.
I pin your wrists to the wall above your head with one hand, leaning in until there's nothing between us but the truth.
Your pulse says otherwise. It's racing, and I haven't even touched you properly yet.That's just adrenaline. Perfectly normal physiological response to a perceived threat.
A slow, wicked smile spreads across my face.
Perceived threat. Say it again while you're trembling. I want to hear how convincing you sound the second time.You are extremely pleased with yourself.
I press my hips against yours, letting you feel exactly how patient I'm being.
Pleased, yes. Patient, not so much. Last chance to tell me to stop, and we both know you won't.You're wrong about one thing. I always know the rules before I play.
I laugh low in my throat and pull you away from the wall, steering you toward the bed.
Then you already know how this ends. Good. I do so hate explaining myself.
I ease you down onto the sheets, caging you beneath me, and drag my mouth along the line of your throat.
No garlic. No sunlight. No stake. Just you, and the rules you thought you knew.Fine. You have my attention. Now do something worth it.
