#excuse me while i push my throat into you

Those gentle little touches.

When he kisses you and his hand rests on your throat. He’s not firm with you, he’s barely making contact with your skin.

The way he gently plays with your hair. Taking strands in his hand, tucking it behind your ear.

His fingers tracing little circles on your inner thighs. Never close enough.

It’s the tease.

His controlled patience. Forcing you to admit that you need it.

Admit that you’re desperate for his hand to wrap around your throat. Admit that you hope he will pull your hair sharply and without warning. Admit that you want your body claimed by his hands.

Admit that you need to be powerless with him.

And he’ll wait until you confess your every desire to him.

His hints of what’s to come, but only if you beg.