The fear inside you does not repel. It excites. It strokes you from within — slowly, tenderly, like a warm hand beneath the clothing of your mind. You took a step — unthinking, yet piercing you like fangs. The beast’s lair welcomed you without resistance. Of course, you’re not the first to arrive with trembling fingers and eyes full of illusions.

You feel heat. Not panic — heat. Within you, forms, colors, and boundaries melt away. You want to pass through them. To plunge into this sensation. To dissolve, yet leave the imprints of your warm hands on everything.

This oblivion is so sweet. Sensations cascade like wine down a bare neck. You breathe deeper — and there it is, true desire, carved by ice and fantasies.

You lock eyes with the beast, and it does not look away.
You both know how this will end.
You do not tame it — you submit. With true rapture.
You play at strength, yet tremble inside.

And though you both burn to ashes, how beautifully, how sensually you will do it.