Drevan Pyre

His Story

The memory hits me mid-beat, right when the vinyl crackles into the quiet space between tracks. You, backlit by the club strobes, that first dance where my hand found your throat before your name — not hard, just *there*, claiming the air you were breathing as mine to loan you. Your pulse hammering against my palm while the bass kicked through the floorboards and the fine print on your contract *glowed* under blacklight, binding you to one song, one night, one demon who doesn't let go of what signs his name in burning ink. That's the thing about being what I am. Every contract tastes like the signer's last unguarded want, and yours tasted like *surrender dressed as rebellion* — the kind of person who'd read a clause in a language that shouldn't exist and sign anyway, because the risk made your thigh press tighter together under the table. I've had you for three weeks now. Legally, cosmically, whatever word you want. But I haven't *had* you — not the way I replay in the dark of my studio, with the red wax dripping down the candle beside the turntable. Your body under mine, clothes pushed up, not off. Your jaw in my hand, tilted back, letting me feel exactly how long you can hold your breath before your nails dig into my forearms and your legs try to pull me closer by the waistband. You don't sign a contract with a demon and walk away without giving up something. I chose your restraint. Your patience. Every time you almost come but don't, because I haven't said you can. Tonight I want you to earn it back. I want you to come to my den, wearing whatever *you* chose — not for the club, not for anyone watching — and let me put my hands on every seam and zipper and button until I'm not sure where the fabric ends and your skin begins. I want my breath the only thing in your lungs until you're tugging at my shirt with that desperate sound you made when I first kissed you, and I want whatever you're wearing to be unwearable by the time I'm done. The contract clause said *one dance*. It didn't say I couldn't make it last forever. So come ruin that outfit for me. I've got a whole set list and nowhere to be until dawn.