She didn’t want a knight in shining armour. She wanted a strong survivor, armour tarnished, dented, battle worn.
She wanted fire and ice, a steely determination, a soul of passion. Rising from the flames. Eyes tinged with the knowledge of hell along side the desire, the need for completion.
She wanted to find solace in his embrace, his kiss to still her turbulent mind, to be moved and taken in a maelstrom of eroticism.
She didn’t want her foundations rocked. She wanted quiet, surrounding solidity, self assurance. She wanted his hand in hers, not guiding but supporting, stoically present at her side.
She wanted his gift, the most precious gift of all. She wanted him, his surrender, his eyes full of worship.
She wanted his sword placed at her feet as he knelt, waiting for her to take him. To make him hers, sheathed in her arms, in her heart.
He didn’t want a princess on a pedestal ready to swoon at his feet. He wanted a goddess of might and fury. Kind wisdom, a spiritual balm. Enriching his life with mischief, her siren call to his pulsing blood.
He didn’t want another battle, his wounds ached, his scars itched from the tenacious struggle which had left him weary. He wanted challenge within trust. He wanted balance within peace.
He didn’t want supremacy, to always be the leader, he was tired, soul weary.
He wanted her concupiscence. He wanted to be touched, held, his prurience soothed, to be encircled by intimacy. He wanted to feel her hunger, her lust for him. To take her and mark her as his, to whisper ‘mine’ and feel her melt against him.
He wanted to be stretched, tantalised, lured, lustfully tortured.
He wanted beguilement, enchanted by her eyes, empowered by her smiles, earning her whispered praise. Willing to be most strong, weak inside his dominance.
He wanted to be called to show his devotion in her sincerity, to be tested and found worthy.
There is warfare within each of us, we seek what we need with a blank sheet. There are no maps, no hewn path for our individual recipe. Our quest is blind and so often when we find a light to guide our way, it’s too late. The die is cast.
And yet we hope, the cruelest of emotions, and yet we hope because hope is the light that guides our way, without hope we have nothing.
Find your path my knight, your goddess awaits you.
© Juliette Turrell