Demon Lover

My demon lover peers at me through the dimness of my room with dark eyes as he reaches for my hands. He makes fast work of difficult sentences in old languages with his wicked tongue and dredges up memories of the past with his touch. He flicks that tongue of his in and out of my ears and runs it down the side of my neck just so he can feel me shiver in his arms. I know he has plans to cripple me but I can not but help sigh into his embrace.

He places his hand upon my breast to feel my heart beat quicken and rise up to his own pulse. I know his blood would taste like fire if I were to lick it from his skin. I know his gaze will burn me if I were to hold it for too long... But his hand slides down my flesh leaving a trail of heat and rage and I have no choice but to look upon those piercing eyes and offer my soul in tender remorse.

His hands find every delicate curve of my body and extract deep sensation from every undiluted touch. He holds nothing back and tenderly wraps his fingers around my throat. His kiss is like a lake of fire and burns more than his blood as he takes my lip in his teeth and gently tugs my mouth open. His clever wicked tongue finds every opening in my body and his exacting ability to make me scream causes a trembling that I can not stop. He wants to hear my voice echo his name through the night so it can rattle around inside his skull like the drumbeat of some dark voodoo ritual.

He is my voodoo poet, my demon lover, and I fear he is writing his great opus with every breath I utter at his touch and thrust. I may be losing my soul to my love of him and I know he loves me in return with a great and vibrating fearfulness. Sometimes it is not unlike trying to hold on to a storm as he thrashes about me and pins me to the bed. His gentleness and violence are all mixed into those dark dark eyes and as he collapses and lies in my arms panting I know we are forever joined no matter how far he runs or how deep I burrow beneath these covers...