I like you like this, your wrists bound above your head and feet stretched to each corner of the bed, tied there and leaving you open to every little touch I desire. I sometimes wonder just what you were thinking when you came here, but I never bother to look. Times like these, it's too easy to get lost in that head of yours, losing my footing and falling into you until the music of your desire surrounds me, your needs an insistent string section and your heartbeat pure percussion. Breathy woodwind gasps, complete with a piccolo whine I hear each time my finger first spears you, spiralling up until it's outside of human senses. You twist and writhe beneath my finger, and suddenly the gasps shift to brassy growls of need. I move, settling myself into place at your entrance and pushing, hearing the symphony crescendo around me and losing myself, just as I predicted. But I can find my way back in the silence after our release. I always do...