Afraid to Love: Drowning
By Black Rose
I sometimes think half of the feeling of it being too much, on the verge of exploding... it's from not being able to talk. To anyone. Who the fuck would I talk to? Especially about this. About him.
Men don't talk about shit like this. Maybe women do, I don't know, but we don't. Not seriously. You get a group of men and a little bit of alcohol and there might be a lot of talk but it's not serious - which woman has the best tits, which man has the best ass, who you think would be a good fuck or smug hints of knowing better. But it's not fucking serious and I never want to drag what he is to me down to that level.
But sometimes I'd kill to be able to put it into words. To be able to share it with someone, just to find an outlet for all of the things that swirl around inside of me until I feel like I'll go mad.
Guess that's why I'm writing it. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't just make a date with Zell, spend an evening getting both of us fucking trashed and go ahead and spill it all on him. Zell wouldn't mind and he wouldn't hold it against me, wouldn't tell anyone. And I think maybe the only way I could put it into verbal words would be when I had the crutch of alcohol to lean on.
He's so fucking.... perfect. In every way, in more ways than I knew a person could be. I had every damn type of sex with another man that I can think of before I met him but somehow it's still different with him. Perfect. Fucking perfect, I can't think of another word, like his body was fucking made for me, or mine for him, and that's so goddamn pre-teen girl crush cliched fuck awful sounding I can't stand it but it's true.
I've never known anything so perfect as the feel of him in me. On me. Under me. It doesn't matter how or where. Anything. Just as long as it's him.
It doesn't even have to be sex. Just being close to him is enough. Laying next to him... it's like we fit together, like some god made us to be two halves of one whole. And it's addicting, that feeling, that absolute perfect rightness of it. He's laughed, said I'm more "snuggly" than anybody would believe, but the truth is I just can't stand to be that far away from him. If we're in the same room then I need to be there. I need to be beside him, touching him, even if it's just our hands or the press of his knee against mine. I need that. I need him.
It's past broken. It's deeper than that. I don't have a word for it. Anything he wanted of me, any where, any time... he could have it. If he wanted me on my knees and begging I wouldn't even blink. I try so hard to keep the public face we need, to leave it all in the confines of our rooms and once we cross that doorway then it's not us any more, it's them - President, Commander... but sweet fucking Hyne it's hard. Just looking at him, if I let the mask slip for even an instant, let my thoughts wander, can fucking destroy me. It's a type of insanity that I'd do anything to make him look at me.
I could get off on that look alone. On the sound of his voice, on a smile, on a laugh. The rhythm of his breathing is what puts me to sleep at night and the warmth of his body gives me the strength to get up in the morning. The rest of it - the touch of his hands, the feel of his cock, the taste of him, the feel of him - it's a reward I don't know what the fuck I did to earn.
I'm beyond drowning in him. I know this. Maybe that's the most frightening part. I know it. They trained us to be aware of our own weaknesses, to guard against them. I'm staring at mine and there's no possible defense left.
And I still wouldn't give it up for anything.
One more year. Less than a year. Months I can count between my two hands. If we can just last that long, if we can keep the illusion intact...
I want him to just be mine. I don't want to share him any more. Not with the people of Esthar, not with anyone. I want him to be mine
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