Predator. Prey.

One Shot: Play.

One Shot :#1

Time since chemical wedding: eight days

Warning: smut, language, violence

Slow moving strobe lights flash streaks of florescent pink and green against the shimmering gold plated walls. Intricate designs, repeating lines, swirling indents: all creating an array of dizzying patterns that mixed with the vodka coursing through my veins. With my senses muddy and foggy, I move up and down my poll; my body is one continuous wave of energy focused solely on his eyes.

His.

Raging blues and teal stare straight through me as his gaze burns a hole through my chest; his irises snake up and down my skin from above the crowd. With his white shirt, unbuttoned, tattoos black against his ivory skin, he always leaves me breathless.

I am always breathless in his presence.

Dominating, luring: a predator ready to devour his meal whenever he wishes.

Only his meal isn't running: there's no where to hide. I am caged.

I am not in control.

The music has a beat loud enough to shake every organ in my body as I let it take over my senses. The sounds are slow and sensuous, and my moves are calculated and erotic. I know what he likes, and what drives him wild.

I know what sets him on fire.

It's late, and I know the sun will be up soon. But I feel like I could do this forever. I could tease him to the brink of exhaustion: watching the passion boil inside him, ready to spill out of his ears until there is nothing left but an animalistic rage. The rage is what I seek as I roll my back out and glide down the poll, biting my lip as I almost touch the floor, my eyes peering up at him through thick lashes.

I crave his attention and his desire.

I want him to save me.

Or maybe I want him to end me.

Or maybe I want both.

The dancing is liberating, but I am truly alive when he whisks me away and we stumble up the black staircase into our room, and that's when my vision clears and the fog settles.

And I am home.

I crave the pain and the pleasure, because it is ecstasy for him.

He is happy when he's with me. I'll do anything to make him happy.

I look away from his gaze to catch my breath as my feet latch around the pole so I can spin myself to assess the crowd. My eyes peer at the endless sea of bodies surrounding every empty inch of the club. I can hear drunken laughs and moans against the pounding of the music, and it seems as if everyone has reached a point of no return as their eyes glaze over and their moves become sloppy. Drinks are spilling, hands are groping, tongues are connecting with other tongues all around me. Everything is a blur happening around every corner of the cage, and it seems as if I am caught in the eye of the storm. I continue to dance, feeling a small glimmer of power wash over me as I watch the party rage around me. I rise to my normal height, my hands gliding up the poll with ease as I look to meet J's gaze.

Instead I see an empty gold throne.

My breath hitches in my throat because I know that's a sign that he can't take it anymore, and my waiting is over. A smile creeps onto my face as I knock twice on the door, signaling to be let out of my confinement.