Spidery eyelashes open and shut, but not like a danger. like a beckoning. The tendrils of my gaze wind lazily toward you, asking gently. When you don't look away, they intensify; you've shown them that it's safe to root. Their fingernails gouge your corneas--ripping you open--forcing themselves deep into your mind, rods and cones be damned. "Please?" flows from my lips; the timbre of my voice scratching the itch in your brain you never knew you had. "I'll do anything" licks your neck, oozes down your spine. The ether of my breath is intoxicating; not like a numbing but like tingles. An inch from your face-- the heat in the air smells like kissing, but not yet-- I feel your heat rising, bubbling awareness as every nerve ending awakens at my sound. "Pour it into me"-- my inky breath dissolves your last remnants of strength...