The night wears a heartbeat of silence

The only joys are those we seize for ourselves
Those bare moments where you describe your day to a person you love
That dream that haunts you
Of walking in a arboreal garden
And seeing your person’s face light up with your
Mere
Presence
A minute for yourself
Alone in the ache of love
And distance
The first perfect bite which explodes so flavorful and tempting
The words unspoken
The ones that pierce
A desperate frissioned ragged edge
Tears unshed
And a song that makes you dance
Life spinning and time fleeing
Too many obligations
Not enough you

Nightmares are also dreams Part 39-Sara

“I just thought of a third option,” Pel says, his eyes
swimming in darkness.

I see in Pel a deep hurt. Like a stab wound so sharp you don’t realize its killing you until its too late.

I’m his. His slave. His. And yet, always he stops. Always, just short of his full desires. And I know that I will always want to go deeper than he is comfortable with. He’ll pass it off as protection. As if this scenario isn’t something we have worked out and so is off the table. I suspect he’s been watching the footage they took off the Circle. And that there is a dark part of him that desires what they did. And really, everything they do is within scope. It’s the human trafficking, nonconsent, and the permanent breaking of the people that is at issue. Not the activities, not really. But he sees them as monsters. And since he desires what they do, he seems himself as monstrous. And he is anything but that.

My only limit I have for him is that he is comfortable with what we do. So, I’ll let this slide for tonight. But…I would have taken those three men. Would have put on a show and begged and pleaded. Would have thrown myself completely into it. It’s something I fantasize about. Something I know Pel thinks about. Something we both wanted. But here we are. Back in safety with only one other partner and one which is mostly for Pel. It’s incredibly frustrating and completely Pel. For every four steps deeper we go, there is always this moment where he walks us three steps back. He’s so deep in his own head that he fakes himself out. That deep thinking also leads to some epic sessions and surprises. Like the raven scar he created for our anniversary. Like vetting Tara and surprising me with her inclusion at work.

After this, we’ll need to have a talk. Not about what he can do, but about how disappointed I was that he chose just one. Plant the idea that it will be acceptable for more. And reinforce the idea that he can’t break me. That I’m already his. Body, mind, and soul. And we’ll dance forward again, and we’ll get closer to the edge that I know he wants.

I hip sway over to Pel and reach out. At the last minute, I grab our new friend and push Pel away. I growl, “Me first.” Then shove my hand down the mans pants and grab his cock.

I know I need to push Pel to get what I need tonight. All so that when I am hurting with the delicious ache of his righteous wrath, and he is beginning to feel guilty, I can act contritely. And he will know that he did right. And maybe that he could have pushed much further.

Soft breathe which catches on waking

We are bent flower promises
Our light touches over skin
Hands soft but ridged in callouses
A legacy of past actions written in scar and stretch
Wrinkle and aches in joints
Broken bones which
Now healed still click
For all of this
Is our passion less for being out of focus
Beyond the lens of society
Or instead
Is passion which knows itself
The more powerful
We who survive and still find each other despite the wounds of the past
Still open ourselves
Vulnerable and exposed
Is our love less
For having been born from a distant song
Or instead
Is it strength to find a heart that’s bright and desirous
And in the knowing
We find beauty
And flame
And the circling of fingertips against skin
The brushing of lips against neck
The soft smile and the lascivious grin
And a hope
Born in the taste of her