My hand goes around your jaw like a tectonic plate shifting into place. Chin tilted upwards, ju

My hand goes around your jaw like a tectonic plate shifting into place. Chin tilted upwards, just so. Thumb and forefinger dig into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. And then I take it. Seized, usurped, captured. I steal the kiss in an armed robbery, all brute force and intimidation.  When my lips press against yours, it feels like ownership. This is not a mutual thing, a back and forth to be enjoyed and teased, tongue battling against tongue in a playful duel. This is possession, something taken and something given. If this is the first contact, the starting point, it needs to be something that you’re going to remember, an impression that stays impressed. So you supplicate, and defer. You allow yourself to be kissed, because really, what other choice do you have? You submit to the kiss.  I own that kiss like I own you. Completely, resolutely, absolutely. It’s a savage thing, with its own terribly beauty. It’s not refined enough to last, or linger. It is seized, and then it is gone. Softer kisses can come later, but right now you need to know whose you are.  Mine. -- source link

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