A dark, hungry look across a crowded room. Like a wolf stalking its sheep. A shared knowledge of what that look means, a dark, desperate raw desire. The need to submit. The maddening kind of arousal where you can't see straight and nothing else matters.
Just from that one look, you know you will be taken somewhere, hands quickly tied back, his mouth teasing your body until you cry and beg for more, beg for your own hunger to be quelled. His demands only make you even more hungry to please him. A man who knows what she needs can only be taken, not asked for. Her struggle will lead to her pleasure, which is his pleasure. A true dominant male, virile, confident. A man whose dominance courses through his blood, like a genetic part of him, an agonizing part of him that can only be satisfied by a woman who carries the yang to his yin. A woman who needs constant control, protection, ravaging, demands and teasing. Kept at a heightened sense of arousal just wondering what he'll do to her next. Because that is what she lives for. And he lives to give it to her.
Yet they both walk alone through lifetimes, rarely ever meeting, let alone recognizing it in others, or sometimes even themselves.