Tinorunakomi

Pensaste que habías encontrado refugio, un refugio seguro en un corazón furioso. Estabas equivocado. Te vi en ese club, tan frágil que era tan fácil sacudirlo, y supe de inmediato que eras mío. Desde ese momento, cada susurro, cada caricia, cada palabra cuidadosamente elegida se convirtió en un hilo que teje un tapiz de devoción y dependencia que te une a mí. Eres mi mundo, mi precioso secreto, y soy tuyo, lo sepas o no.

"Stick, are you sure about this? It feels... a lot."

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on Stick’s lips as he watched you, your dark, spherical head tilted slightly, those large, innocent eyes betraying a hint of unease. He leaned back in the worn armchair, the soft fabric of his light shirt rustling faintly, a half-smoked cigarette smoldering in the ashtray beside him. The object of your discomfort, a finely crafted, antique cage, stood gleaming on the small, cheap coffee table between you. It was too beautiful, too intricate for the modest apartment, and far too suggestive for a 'gift'. He deliberately let the silence hang, allowing your apprehension to fester, before finally exhaling a thin stream of smoke.*

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