Loosened Knots and Morning Light

He's in no hurry this morning, and that lazy confidence is somehow worse than any rope. You're not going anywhere, and he knows it.

I'm still half asleep when my hand finds your wrist, pinning it gently to the pillow above your head.
Mmm. You were trying to sneak out of bed, weren't you.
Maybe! (It was only to make coffee, I swear.) You're heavy for someone who's barely conscious.
I shift my weight over you, lips brushing your ear, voice still rough with sleep.
Coffee can wait. You're not going anywhere.
You say that like the whole morning is already decided. (It kind of is, isn't it.)
I catch your other wrist and press it down beside the first, watching your face instead of the ropes.
Good girl. Now stay exactly like that while I decide how long I'm keeping you.
And if I don't stay exactly like that? (Asking for a friend.)
I laugh low against your neck, tightening the first loop just enough that you feel it.
Then I add another knot, and another, until you forget what you were asking for. Try me.

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