The way you pull at me

[Gr****]

The Way You Pull at Me”

You talk like a storm that knows its own strength,
rolling in slow, confident, unbothered,
testing the edges of my calm
just to see if I’ll lean in or break.

You say you like the way I push back—
not too soft, not too wild,
just enough heat to make you smirk
and ask for more without asking.

There’s a rhythm in the way we talk,
a quiet negotiation of power,
your words tugging at the reins,
mine slipping free just long enough
to make you chase.

You want someone who won’t fold,
someone who can take your tone
and give it back with intention—
not to win,
but to match you.

And maybe that’s why we keep circling,
why your messages land like a hand
at the small of my back—
steady, certain,
guiding without forcing.

Because beneath all the teasing,
beneath the dominance you wear like a grin,
I hear the truth you don’t say out loud:
you want connection with teeth,
not obedience without soul.

And I’m right here—
not kneeling,
not running,
just meeting your gaze
and letting the tension
write its own story.
by The Fallen Angel