Then

Sitting here, I stroke the crust, the scab of too affirmative attention. Just the underside of the right nipple, just in little patches. And as I stare into space, the faint smile on my lips matching the warmth below, I remember...snippets, snapshots, glimpses? A sensation of heaviness, lying across him, one arm trapped underneath, the other without the energy or urge to defend or push away. Physically fucked out, mentally floating away, untethered to reality. I am powerless to protest, incapable of speech. Longing only to wantonly acquiesce and to submit to those nails and those teeth that grate, twist, puncture and torture. The only sound I can form is a betraying whimper of desire. The only conscious thought is....more.