I process how I want to rip my mask off and crush my mouth to hers, devouring her in a way that leaves her desperate for relief. A relief I desperately need as well. An image of her in my bed, wrapped up in my sheets, wearing nothing but my marks on her neck brings my fantasies to a screeching halt. A fake relationship can’t work between two people who desire each other. Too many lines would be blurred, and every limit I’ve set would be challenged. Maybe even destroyed.
