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This is what I’ve always craved but couldn’t ever ask for. He’s going to break my heart.
“I don’t know how to touch without fucking.” His confession breaks my heart. Has no one just held him because he needed it? Offered a hug? I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him into me. “It’s okay, I do.”
He's scared, frustrated, angry and my body takes the brunt force of it. I crave it now. He's ruined me for anyone else. If he walks away from me, I don’t know how I’ll survive.
I love this. This part of him that only I get. I want to hate him for making me crave it, because nothing else feels as good as this. As good as him. And I am terrified he’s going to get tired of me and leave me a broken shell of a human.
“I’m sorry,” he says against my skin. “For everything. Please don’t leave me. I need you.”
You aren’t easy and I don’t know how to tell you this, but I like a challenge. So, take this one day at a time with me until you’re ready to plan for the future. I’ll wait for you.”
“No one has touched me since my mother died, unless it was to inflict pain,” he whispers against my lips. “I crave it but it hurts.”
