Fangs sharp with hunger, muscle taut with storms, a creature made to bite through silence and flesh.

Yet you, exposed in your nakedness, skin fragile like porcelain trembling in the night - you placed a leash upon my throat, and watch me sink my head. Not out of defeat, but devotion. Not from fear, but consideration.

You only hear my howl and thunder, see danger cloaked in fur. But for you, I am the obedient shadow chained not by force - but by longing. You lead me in circles, close enough to smell your scent and feel your warmth, hear your heart beat fast. But never near enough to taste you. Aching with hunger for the taste you won’t allow.

My rage is not for you, my fangs guard only the path we walk. You wince when I bark and growl, yet you know I’d never bite.

But you treat me as if I were the wolf at the gate, not the hound at your feet, the unwavering companion I’ve been for all our journey.

You wield weakness as a weapon, silent, yet somehow louder than all my howls could be. Because I can’t resist the urge to protect. I kneel, a beast brought low, not with chains, but with the trembling of your hand.

I lick and lap at your command. Devour the heat between your thighs. Spill blood, rip throats at your will. I scare away men and storms and nightmares alike, by your order.

There is pain in my obedience, an ache in my submission, a secret hunger for this leash That burns as much as it binds. It’s something primal that I can’t fight, a godless prayer, a feral devotion. I’d wait a lifetime starving at the doorstep, waiting for the moment you return. A wolf that chose to love the hand that struck and guard the one who fled.

And though I could tear you into pieces, I choose instead to stay, tamed not by power, but by the cruel sweetness of your absence.

Only you may put a leash on me.

I wish you’d tell me what to do.