The night’s still aslumber,
in a crowded bondage lair.
Forms mingling, chaste. No haste, but,
sin wafts in the air.
We lock eyes from afar.
Aloof. Nary a thought to spare.
Do you muse? What excuses
my apathetic show of care?
Where went my avowed lust –
I’d breathed – no – growled into your hair?
What of deeds of past eves
when we’d mated: hurt, entwined, bare?
Mere fickleness of man, you think,
to not tend to the bond we share?
Ache sharper than my palm’s wake,
when you turn, felling me from your stare.
Slayer, not like this. Look!
Look back, damnit! Look here!
Peer, dear lover, past my veneer.
See desire persevere.
Dare I play with fire,
inflamed beyond compare?
I suffer death with every breath:
your smile, your touch – to another player.
Fair Lady, go play, court pain,
indulge a kinky night’s affair.
Too shall I woo pleasure,
in periphery, yearning, aware.
Then when we have whet hunger,
and the night’s alight, sincere,
come back, fall into orbit mine.
Feel me pull you everywhere.
Needing, pulsating, wanting, hot –
let’s coalesce into a pair.
To behold was hurt divine,
but to hold you is my ardent prayer.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/zm0iff/dont_be_hurt_now_ill_hurt_you_later_mf