And I Am Yours.

And I am yours.

the world sleeps moon-soaked and I lie awake and ache for you

He watched her in the dim light of the club. She was surrounded by sycophants who wanted access to her, to her money. She could barely contain her disdain and revulsion. It radiated off of her, a living thing.

Men sent her drinks. She feigned a flirtatious wave and passed the drinks and the men along to the women around her. The scene left her cold. It had, since she was little. But she kept up appearances.

Being irrelevant was worse, maybe. The only thrill she felt was the made up bullshit in the tabloids. She went home alone, mostly sober, every night.

She was intriguing to him. When she got up to dance, he moved next to her. His own aura was menacing enough, he glowered down any potential suitors. She turned, and he caught her in his arms. Her mouth opened to protest, and her used a single finger to raise her chin and close her mouth, then shook his head and waved a finger. "Shhh. Dance."

She scowled. Nobody told her what to do. Ever. But he was divine as a partner on the floor. She'd never been lead so...expertly. It was almost mesmerizing. When the song ended, he leaned in and whispered, "Again, dearie?"

Her hand went up, and he caught her by the wrist, tutting at her. He brought the offending limb to his nose, breathed deep, then dropped the wrist to his mouth and swirled his tongue over the tender flesh.

Yanking her hand back, she stormed back to her court, casting black glances across the room, but he disappeared into the crowds.

This happened maybe once a month for awhile, then more frequently. She was almost becoming fond of the rage he inspired as much as she hated herself for how she loved how commanding he was when they danced.

Then one day, he followed her into the bathroom when she went to fix her makeup. He was done waiting. The door slapped open.

She looked up, mouth suprised, fresh laquer over her lips, red as blood. Two other girls glanced at the duo and scurried out. As he advanced on her, she cast about, looking for exits. She settled on the nearest stall and dove in, but he was faster, slamming the door after them and locking them in, while simultaneously trapping her against the wall, face first.

"Wh...wha..." She stammered, cheek against the tile, lipstick smearing.

"Shut. Up." He ordered. "If I wanted to hear a spoiled brat talk, I'd go to the bar."

She squeaked, body trembling in righteous indignation.

He pressed against her from behind, hands smoothing down over her shoulders, rib cage, waist, hips. His fingers curled against her slowly and pulled her ass towards him and she felt her body complying, as if it knew it always would. "Oh god." She softly whimpered.

He chuckled. "That I might be." One hand trapped her hips against him as he ground sinuously, while the other snaked up her side, under her top, over her bra. The fabric was flimsy, and her nipples were already straining.

"For all your protestations, your body tells me something different, brat."

"I'm not a brat." She whispered. Her eyes were closed, entire body trembling.

"Didn't I already tell you to shut up?" The hand at her hip slid over the waist band of her skirt, into her panties, and down between her legs. She was soaking. He toyed with her for long minutes, swirling his fingers through the juices in her cleft, while the other stroked and pulled at her nipples. Finally, he leaned in and murmured, "I'm going to take you home, brat." She nodded. "Speak up?"

"Please?" She panted, shuddering. He released her slowly, spinning her to face him, "That's a good girl." Taking her by the chin, he held her gaze. "A very good girl. Come now." She looked a mess, but she also looked, for the first time ever, pleased.

Dis moi...

Things I want to hear from my lover: 1. "I want you. Now." 2. "I can't stop thinking about..." That sexy thing I did, or something about my body, or... 3. "I fantasize about you." Bonus points if they tell me the fantasy. 4. "Next time I see you, I'm going to pin you down and fuck you so hard." 5. "I want to hear you moan my name." 6. "I need you." 7. "Please." Bonus points if it's whispered. 8. "I crave you." (Variations on a theme.) 9. "You make me so fucking hard." 10. "I masturbate to thoughts of you." 11. "I love how you feel under my hands." 12. "Good girl." 13. "I'm going to shred that shirt off of your body." 14. "Come. Here." 15. "I'm gonna make you cum." 16. "I want to do this forever." 17. "Goddamn." 18. "I love this." 19. "I love you." 20. (While growling, or whispering.) "Mine."

tfw you finally figure out your kinks and have a whole new language in which to express yourself and you can't shut up about it.

I loved her in the way that only comes with youth: irresponsibly, naïvely, selfishly, wholly and joyously, and I didn't even realise it was love.

I called her my friend, my very best friend. I told her if I were a man I'd take her away from everything that troubled her. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe.

In my ignorance, I hurt her, drove her away, because she already had the language to know how she felt, but surely if I were queer, someone would have told me.

It was the loneliest closet, for I didn't know I was in it, alone.