Now, he is a predator.
He just sits there and watches. His teeth are white and his eyes golden in the darkness that shadows the rest of his face. Moonlight shines over the wooden floor, washing over his bare feet. You watch these instead of his inscrutable face as you allow your hair to fall loose around your shoulders.
The captain's cloak next, whispering to the floor. Your fingers slide to the belt that holds the rest in place. They linger for a moment, anticipation as electric on your tongue as it must be for him. Then you pull, pull so that it rolls off in waves. His eyes don't follow the movement, you can still feel them on you. Everything falls open as you take a silent step forward. Your bare feet make no noise on the polished wood.
When you force your eyes to meet, his expression does not change. He is the perfect predator. No wasted movement. You don't look away as you reach up and take away the final layers. You are naked underneath, pale skin. Only when the heavy layers are all on the floor, curling around your feet, blocking your path backwards, does he stand.
It is a fluid movement learnt from lions.
And you stand there, unable to do anything but watch as he lazily twitches his belt open, shrugs it all off at once. He's proudly erect, and you have reacted the same. He reaches out and his palm slides against your cheek, fingers into your hair. Your toes curl downwards, painfully. Your lips part. You breathe in.
You crash together in one motion. Your feet nearly leave the floor with his strength, and yet with the tips of your toes you still push upwards to meet him. His body his whole body, presses against you. You're arched impossibly backwards, only upright with his hand enclosing your waist. He could eat you whole.
He is the predator and you are the prey.
He carries you to the bed. The arches of old, ancient wood, will hold you both. It was your ancestor's. It was your marriage bed. And now you will use it for this, this something so primevally spiritual that there is no name.
And you spread yourself for him, for his hands to paw you roughly. You cling to him, feel the sticky blood under your fingernails. Feel his tongue lick the length of your throat, feel the shudder of his muscles under the skin. Feel him enter you in one long, slow motion. He leaves sloppy, biting kisses on your chest.
The bed is banging against the wall. Your legs are over his shoulders, you kiss him until you both can't breathe and then just keep going. He is so strong that you have forgotten who you are. You are just here, and here, and here. You go on forever like this, inching towards paradise. You're frantic to find it.
It started a long time ago. It started with just his looks. They burned you. They infuriated you. And then his temptations, hand always on sword. He drew you out into the open so many times that you forgot the danger of being there. And then he touched you, a touch that promised so much.
And now your sweat mixes with your tears and your blood as you press your face into his neck as the final liquid adds to the mix. He roars like a beast at the conquest, striking the final deathblow. The movements are too good to stop, so you keep going, slowing and slowing.
Until he drops you, satiated. You kiss him lazily, tongues meeting in the warm air to slide against each other. He lays over you, cupping your face between his two hands like a holy object.
And then you breathe.
His eyes have faded from their monstrous light, and his manic grin has softened into a smile.
Now, he is a man.