I’m perched on the side of the table, my legs dangling over the edge, waiting for him to wake up. He inhales deeply, the first sign of returning consciousness. His eyes slowly flutter open and focus on my face.

“Hey.” I say, smiling like everything was normal.

“Hey.” he responds out of habit.

“How was your little nap?” I ask, innocent smile on my face.

He goes to rub his sleepy eyes and that's when he notices that he can’t move his arm. Or his other arm, or his legs. Freaking out at that point, he tries to sit up. He can’t of course. Handcuffs clasped around both arms and legs, tethering him to the table. He struggles,unable to move his arms and therefore elbows to prop himself up. His abs flex, as he tries pull himself up slightly.

“Did you put me in these?”, shaking his handcuffed wrists, making the metal clank softly.  “Is this some sort of prank?”

I don’t answer him at first, just cock my head and look deep into those icy blue eyes. I give him a mocking half-smile

“What do you think?”

I adjust my seated position to be kneeling beside him on the table, slowly running the tips of my fingers up his arm. The shop’s cold, my touch sends goosebumps all over his skin. He probably doesn’t really know what to say to that, just kinda look at me, focused and intense. I definitely have his attention now. Finally. I swing one leg over his body, straddling his legs as i kneel above him.. I can feel his breath on my neck, and I notice my pulse quicken. Our eyes lock and I release a soft sigh.

“I hope you’re not too fond of that shirt you’re wearing.” I breath casually.

“What, why not?”

I pull a pair of shears from my back pocket and start to cut the blue and white striped t-shirt in a straight line up his torso. Snip. Snip. Snip. Hunter cranes his neck to watch me work, confusion and panic written on his face, his chin and forehead wrinkled. He glances back and forth between my face and the moving scissors, unsure what to expect next. His movements are frantic as if saying, If this were just a prank, would she really take it this far?

The shears arrive at the collar of his shirt, the last cut finishing with a sharp click of the blades against each other. I replace them in my back pocket and rest my palms on his chest, one on each side of the two halves of shirt. My fingers wrap around the fabric, and in one quick motion I pull them apart from each other, exposing his now-bare chest.

“Tell me this doesn’t turn you on just a little bit.” I smile and chuckle a little.

“You’re crazy. Like, actually insane.”

“Sticks and stones, baby. You can’t hurt me, I’m in my happy place.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I lean forward, bringing my face to his body, pressing my lips to his skin. I underneath them, I can feel his heartbeat. Hunter looks away from me, staring at the ceiling above him. His expression is pinched up in a wince, but the way he exhales tells me that this must be doing something for him.  My hands slide up towards his neck, my head following oh so slowly. My lower lip trails the length of his chest delicately, eventually arriving at his neck. My elbows support my weight as i slip my palms beneath his head and into his hair, fingers pressing against his scalp. Raising my head, I hover inches above his face. Our eyes meet and I realize that he didn’t struggle hardly at all. Hunter hadn't screamed for help or tried to shove me off of him. He just lied there beneath me, like he was accepting it, maybe even wanted it. I looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, my head slowly sinking lower and lower, the amount of space between us lessening. He seems calm. I close my eyes and let our lips brush. And then we're straight up kissing. And not just me kissing him, he's kissing me back, enthusiastically. I move my hands through his hair, gently enclosing fistfuls of it in my palms. God, his breathing.

He's definitely into this, into me. I can feel it in the way he's breathing, the way he's kissing me.

I hear something metallic clank, but my reaction is too slow. Hunter's no-longer-handcuffed hand grabs the scissors from my back pocket. Damn, he must have slipped out. He tries to swing them at my neck, but I roll off of him and out of harm's way before his blow could land.

Hunter watches me intently, preparing to lash out again should I get too close.

Well, shit.

“I thought you might react this way, but you gave me hope there for a second. Fine, Hunter. Have it your way. You wanna play rough?”

I walk over to the bench beside the table displaying my array of weapons and tools. I pick up a dagger and turn the hilt, the blade glinting under the fluorescent lights. Perhaps this one? No, I need something with a little more bite. A pick up a cattle prod, and look back to Hunter.

“Do you know what this is?”

He glares at me in response, his narrowed eyes peeking out behind displaced hair strands in front of his face. I activate the rod, a sharp electric zap exploding from the tip. I smile at him and take a step forward.

“I’m only going to ask nicely once: Drop the scissors.”

He blinks, but is otherwise motionless. Defiant. Of course he is. I roll my eyes and sigh.

“God, Hunter. Do you want me to hurt you?”

“Do you want to hurt me?” he retorts. I can’t hold back my burst of laughter, disbelief at what I’m hearing.

“You don’t think I will, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, and why not? You think that I can’t? Dear Taylor, sweet Taylor. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, right?”

I hold down the on button and jab it into his abdomen. Electricity crackles, white blue bolts jumping through his skin.

He screams, the scissors clattering to the concrete floor.

I smile and laugh. Releasing the button, I turn away from him and throw the rod back on the bench. I walk to his right side and slap him hard across the face, turning his face the other way. Gabbing his free hand, I pin it beneath my knee.

“Look around, dumbass.” I say, clicking the handcuff back around his wrist. Tighter than last time.

“I’m not exactly the person you thought I was. You’re mine now. Get it? I won’t hesitate to punish you for disobeying me.”

“Why, Taylor?” he croaks. “How could you take me away from my family, my life? Why would you do that to me?”

“Because I love you. I had to have you.” I gently brush his face with the back of my hand and push the stray strands of hair away from his eyes.

“I had to do it… to protect you.”