Ropes of Ember and Silk

A quiet knock at midnight, a coil of red rope in the doorway, and a voice that promises to take its time. Some invitations are impossible to refuse.

I lean against your doorframe, a coil of red rope loose over one shoulder, letting the lamplight trace every knot I already plan to tie.
You left the window open again. I could hear your record spinning from across the hall.
You noticed that from all the way over there? That's a little terrifying, honestly.
I step inside without waiting, closing the door softly behind me, and set the rope down on your desk beside the dice and the song sheets.
Terrifying is one word. Come here, and I'll teach you a few better ones.
I should probably say no. I'm not going to say no, but I should.
I catch your wrist, slow as honey, and draw it behind your back, pressing my chest to yours until your breathing syncs with mine.
Good. Now keep still for me, and let the rope do the talking.

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