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I’d encouraged him to follow his heart with Nico, but it had made me wonder. What if I’d been braver… What if I’d treated him how he deserved… What if I’d been less frightened of the opinions of others, less focussed on a career that could, ultimately, be ripped away so easily?
“I totally knew it would be today,”
This chapter spans three weeks…Drake, what are you on?
In truth, it’s been less than a year, but Felix feels like a beautiful and distant dream. The desire and want I used to burn with for him has faded, something of another time and place.
I don't believe you.
“You’re going to absolutely ruin me, aren’t you?” he says in a low, fucked-out voice. Shrugging one shoulder, I smile and say, “I mean, yeah, if you want me to.”
instead. The idea of that is disappointing, but only at first, before there’s a rush of hot lust in its wake. In the same way hearing about Felix’s exploits would always turn me on, this does,
I don't want to hear about that other man 😭
“First of all, you don’t ever have to question your own attractiveness. You’re one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever set eyes on, that many people have ever set eyes on, I’m certain of it.” He shrugs. “Beauty is subjective.” “No one questions how beautiful a summer sunset is, Asher, or a clear, blue ocean. Some things are indisputable.”
But what I didn’t say on the phone, what I’m not sure I ever can say—not to him, anyway—is that he makes me feel things I don’t quite understand yet. He makes me feel like maybe I could have a home somewhere again, like maybe I wouldn’t mind being in love and devoted to something again.
This feels to soon
I fucking love sex, and when it’s good, it’s like nothing else on earth, nothing. I have all sorts of crazy thoughts when it’s good: I want to fuck every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I’d let him put a fucking baby inside me. Let him do anything to me. Take everything from me as long as he gives me this. Forever.
“I think… I’m having a heart attack.”
The sex induced a heart attack 😭
Few things on earth are more intimate than prayer or sex, and I don’t pray anymore. But I also do it because I enjoy it, because I’m good at it, and because it makes me feel great. I like sex. I like being fucked; on camera and off.”
I admire him. I envy him. And beneath all that, the more base understanding: I desire him. I want nothing more than to bathe in his light for as long as he’ll let me. Have it wash over me and revive me: heal me.
“You like me on my knees.” “I like you everywhere.”
…why?
“I’ve loved being in your light, darling—it’s been like having the sun on my face after so long in the cold—but I have none of my own to give you, and that’s not fair.
Two years later
This is criminal
