Setting Fire to the Rain

Last night, in the cool darkness of the car as Rush and I sped toward home, we talked.
Listening to Adele, listening to "Set Fire to the Rain," and the plaintive, bluesy lament of her knees too weak to stand in your arms.
I am reminded, with painful, heart-squeezing suddenness, of the last time I held you within my body.

Never before, and never since, have I been so willing to walk through fire for someone. Never before, never since, have I loved with so much passion and so little reason.

Memories:
The scent of you: hot metal and cigarettes and spicy musky arousal.
Your bedroom, with the rainbow fan left over from some long-ago child  moving the hot hair over our bodies as we lay spent in one another's arms.

My body moving over yours, stretching gorgeous fullness of you inside of me. My thighs tireless from constant horseback riding, riding you, moving you in and out of me with the rhythm I have only in horses and sex.
Your dark hands on my breasts and my little gasps and whimpers. Looking down, still learning to enjoy sex as pleasure, not pain, revelling in the sight of your body moving inside of mine. Your voice, a chocolatey chuckle, "You like seeing me inside of you, don't you?" My flushing, stammering reply... 17 and still so innocent, so shy, despite the worldliness I claimed. "Yes...."
Your low voice, telling me to bring myself- to cum for you.
Leaning back a litte, aching with fullness, your hands on my breasts, twisting spirals of pleasure from my nipples fluttering to add to the heat in my groin. My fingers finding my clit, shy at first- I am still too nervous  to share this often- small circles while you move against me until the pleasure grows, spills through me in shivering waves and low moans as I spasm against you. The deeply masculine satisfaction on your face as you pin my gaze with yours even as I shudder and whimper against you.
Your hands tightening on me, flipping me until I am beneath you, pinned, a little breathless from the aftermath of my orgasm and the adrenaline of the sudden movement. Your body pounding harder into mine, you willing now to take your pleasure and my body arching to meet you, hips matching your pace with greedy hands and mouth on your heated body.
Feeling you tighten inside of me, tighten against me, my body responding instinctively to the promise of pleasure and spasming around you again as you finally spill yourself inside of me, the mini-orgasm of my lover's orgasm dragging my nails into your shoulders.
After: your hands idly tracing my body. Poessession and pride and pleasure in your touch. Little ticklish wriggles and soft moans as I lie spent and sated against you.


A flood of memories now:
Taste of mango dropping down my hand as I sucked my fingers clean and licked the juices up, your eyes watching me as I suck each finger clean individually, thoroughly.
Moments later, your cock in my mouth, satisfaction of your low groans. Silky hard ridge of your cockhead under my tongue. Choking pleasure of taking every inch of you in- still inexperienced at it but so eager to learn, so eager to please you.
Later still, the movie forgotten, dusty scent of your couch and the tickling of your hair against my thighs, the heat of your mouth between my legs. The whimpering arching sharpness of your teeth lightly teasing my clit, your tongue lathing it gently afterwards until I arch and moan and grind into you begging wordlessly for more.

Your car, late at night. Church parking lot, ancient graveyard behind us.
The taste of you filling my senses, neck sore from sucking you but I don't care- I just want this. Shiver down my spine from the location, your hand on my neck, heat easing the muscles even as you press me further onto you. My low humming moan against your balls and your complementary shiver.

Rushing adrenalinefearjoy riding behind you, eyes closed in refusal to see the speedometer and tangible expression of trust in you. Smell of leather even over the rushing wind, arms right around you. Humming motor between my legs, tight press against you. Exhilaration of riding a motorcycle again- no knowledge yet of the greater joy of riding my own- with someone I love.

The last days:
Curled against you for what I didn't know was the last time. Your body wrapped warm and safe around mine. No, you were not safe anymore and I knew it. I was not 17 anymore, not naive anymore, and there was more pain and anger and bitter rage between us than there ever had been love. Your hands in my hair, your fingertips on my skin, and the mingled joyregretneedhoperagelove of every single moment I think about you.

I let it fall, my heart,
And as it fell you rose to claim it
It was dark and I was over
Until you kissed my lips and you saved me

My hands, they're strong
But my knees were far too weak,
To stand in your arms
Without falling to your feet

But there's a side to you
That I never knew, never knew.
All the things you'd say
They were never true, never true,
And the games you play
You would always win, always win.

But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!

When I lay with you
I could stay there
Close my eyes
Feel you here forever
You and me together
Nothing is better

'Cause there's a side to you
That I never knew, never knew,
All the things you'd say,
They were never true, never true,
And the games you'd play
You would always win, always win.

But I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name!

I set fire to the rain
And I threw us into the flames
When it fell, something died
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time!

Sometimes I wake up by the door,
That heart you caught must be waiting for you
Even now when we're already over
I can't help myself from looking for you.

I set fire to the rain,
Watched it pour as I touched your face,
Well, it burned while I cried
'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name

I set fire to the rain,
And I threw us into the flames
When it fell, something died
'Cause I knew that that was the last time, the last time, ohhhh!

Oh noooo
Let it burn, oh
Let it burn
Let it burn

Ritual

Slow, deep breaths.
Smudge the space.
Clear myself of you

Lay out the altar
Tools of my trade. Aids of my soul. 
God figure. Father, protect me from my own heart.
Goddess. Mother, heal my aching soul.
Stone for Earth. Earth, teach me strength to walk away.
Incense for Air. Air, clear me of desire for you.
Candle for Fire. Fire, burn away this pain & desire.
Shell for Water. Water, wash away my pain.
A drop of blood for Spirit. Let it all come out in this drop and be gone from me.

Walk the circle. Knife of bone and stone.
Here is boundary between Outer and Inner. 
Here is the line between you and me. 
Here is where I set the barrier: only enter, what I seek.

As Above, So Below.
The Six Sacred Directions, hear my plea. Accept my offering of tobacco
Ancestors, share your  wisdom. Accept my offering of cornmeal. 
Little People, take my honey and pay no tricks on my head or my heart. 

Stand, and face the Moon.
Mother, heal me. Cleanse me of the desire for that which harms me. 
Turn, face the setting Sun.
Father, protect me. Shield me from that which would harm me. 

Feel the Earth beneath my feet.
Caress the Wind that stroke my body.
Soak in the Heat the touches my skin.
Feel the Water droplets on the grass on my legs.

Heal me, Shield me, Help me. 
It hurts. 
Give me strength to walk away. Guide my steps along the right Path. Help me not to stray from it. 
Ease my aching heart when I am tempted to turn back. 
Give me the strength, and the courage, to go on where I should. 

Sink to the ground, let the earth heal me. Let it strengthen me.
Cry. Let the tears purge me. Fire and water, burning droplets. Stretch out on the earth and soak in Her presence, feel the air's caress like a comforting touch.

And after a small eternity, stand renewed and strengthened.

Thank you, Mother. 
Thank you, Father.
Thannk you, Earth. 
Thank you, Air. 
Thank you, Water. 
Thank you, Fire. 
Thank you, Spirit.
Thank you, Six Sacred Directions.
Thank you, Ancestors. 
Thank you, Little People. 

Thank you, strong heart for healing. 
Thank you, strong feet for walking. 
Thank you, strong eyes for crying.
Thank you, strong hands for crafting ritual. 
Thank you, strong voice for speaking our pain. 
Thank you, Self, for strength and love. 

Close the Circle.
Carry the joy into your life.

Chance disaster

You weren't supposed to be there.

I went to get some paperwork, and I put it off for weeks to make sure that it was your day off.

I didn't want to see you, didn't want to feel the kick in the gut that was your presence.

I didn't want to look over, didn't want to see your profile- Gods it's as beautiful as ever, the line of your jaw which shouldn't be visible from half the bay away.

I didn't want to feel the vise grip of loss and pain and rage and fear that the mere sight of you engenders.

Why did you do it?

Why did you break the last thread which I could not justify retying?

Why did you threaten harm to someone I love?

Why did you do the one thing I can't forgive?

Why did you take the last, tiny, forlorn hope of an 'us,' away from me?

My heart is pounding, even in memory, and tears are pricking the backs of my eyes. It took every ounce of strength to keep my back straight and my head high as I walked out the door, every ounce of strength I have not to turn, wave, promise that I'll let you back in if only you'll promise never to do it again. Not to scream at you that you ruined everything, even our friendship.

I was in shock when I drove away: clammy skin, shallow breaths, lightheadedness, pounding heart, but I drove anyway because the only other choice that I had was to wrap myself in your arms.

Old Erotica

This is an old piece of erotica: the first completed piece that I ever wrote, in fact. I wrote it for Wolf, years ago, an re-found it recently.

Note from the wording that this was a bit before I really got comfortable with my dominant side.

It starts with you on my bed. Spread-eagle, tied firmly with soft, strong ropes. I watch you watching me, naked, your eyes dark with desire. It makes me smile to see you that way… helpless and desiring.

I am kneeling over you, smiling, enjoying that you don’t know what is coming next, and that you can’t touch me the way that your face shows that you would so dearly like to.

Normally, this is not the side of the ropes I prefer, but just now, with you, I revel in it. I told you once that you make me want to lie before you and bare my belly in submission, and at the same time take your throat in my jaws, and bite until you know I can bite harder. This is the latter half of me.

I see myself bending down, raking my nails lightly up your thigh, watching you squirm as I slowly exhale one hot breath over your dick. Feeling my own body grow heavy and moist in anticipation of feeling you inside me. Licking my way lightly up the length of you, returning to do it over again, knowing that the sensation is so light as to be almost tickling, before taking you all into my mouth in one hot rush and hearing you gasp while I stare into your face. I feel my own breasts grown heavy with the desire to be touched, but for the moment deny that pleasure to both of us, focusing instead on teasing you with long, slow strokes of my mouth. Every so often I’ll stop, just to watch your eyes fly open and find me before reaching down again and taking your balls into my warm, waiting mouth.

It’s intoxicating- feeling, seeing, hearing your reactions.

I let myself grow tired of this play, and crawl up the length of you, nipping and nibbling as I go, reminding you of the sharpness of my teeth should I choose to use them while you lie helpless. The apprehension on your face is sweet… I think you sometimes forget that I am not so sweet, or innocent, as you remember. Your nipple is under my tongue now, and I roll it around a little, feeling it tighten still further, and tasting the salt of your skin. Your breath is a little faster now, and it makes me smile as I close my teeth lightly!- so lightly- around your nipple, and feel you jump. I consider biting harder, but decide to behave for the moment, instead straddling you and leaning forward until my breasts brush your face. I can feel your mouth opening, trying to catch one, but I move just enough to deny you, feeling my own nipples harden still further as they sweep the stubble on your cheeks. “Say please,” I purr into your ear, letting you hear the satisfaction in my voice.

I want you to beg. I want to hear your voice break, the way it has once before.

I wait, taunting you, rolling my hips over you so that you can feel my own wet readiness just barely out of reach. I restrain a laugh, feeling your hips thrust up against me, seeking. I roll my hips just enough to stay at the very edge… not quite allowing you to penetrate, but enough for you to feel how very close you are, my breasts still that same millimeter out of reach…. Until I hear you give in, hear your voice crack, just a little as you say, “please.”

In that moment, I thrust my hips down, taking all of you inside me in one movement as I did earlier, but so much tighter, so much wetter, even as I give you the breast your mouth has never stopped seeking. I feel you groan at the sudden sensations even as I cry out at the feeling of your mouth on me. Life is, momentarily, perfect with you sheathed tightly inside me, your mouth on me. You thrust further into me, and though I had intended to draw away again, to tease more, I find my body uncooperative. It wants you inside me, and I cannot really argue, so cooperate instead, rolling my hips down again to meet you, pressing you further into me. I can’t help but cry out as your mouth tightens on my breast again, and nearly pull away, throwing my head back in pleasure.

Though I had intended also to draw this out, to slow our rhythm and prolong both our pleasure, I find myself unable. My instincts match yours, and we find a fast, hard rhythm, guaranteed to end this too soon but I think we are both past caring. I tear myself away from your mouth to lean back a little, pressing you into me almost to the point of pain and watching myself envelope you… remembering your words so long ago, “You like watching me come into you,” while you held my hips and thrust your way into me. The memory still makes me shudder, and I do so now, knowing that you will feel it.

I find myself craving the taste of your mouth again and lean forward to kiss you, nibbling your lip very lightly first… a gentle contrast to the fierce rhythm of our hips. I feel my own body tightening in response to yours, and know that while I cannot climax myself this way I can sure as all hells enjoy yours.

I hear you choke the words out near my ear, “Please don’t stop…” and smile, tightening myself around you without losing rhythm. Your body shudders against mine, and I lay one hand against your cheek, drawing your eyes to mine as I feel your climax begin. They are beautiful, swirling black in the depths of your orgasm, and I hold them with my own, pressing down a little further to continue your pleasure as long as possible, until I feel you shudder beneath me and lie still. Only then do I stop my own movements, leaning forward across you and kissing you gently.

Healers, heal thyselves

I knew that I needed release, and I hoped to find it in sadism tonight. There is no one available I could bottom to, I thought.

But dyring the auction, I sat next to a beautiful woman in a marvelous waist-cincher corset. We chatted, and she told me she does cuttings and piercings.

The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I'd said, "If you have the energy tonight, I think I'd like to bottom to that."

I wonder if she noticed how stunned I was that I'd just said that. Just asked to bottom to someone I had just met, and not only bottom but offer them my flesh in the most intimate ritual that I know.

But she readily agreed, and I arranged the medical room for midnight. The Witching Hour, in popular lore, and a closing to Lughnassad, the first of the festivals of harvest.

The night was lovely- a beautiful boy to play with courtesy of his lovely Lady, some excellent company, and a nice athmosphere. But in me was growing a low buzz of excitement that I didn't even recognize for what it was until I saw her again.

She led me into the medical room, and we discussed the preliminaries. I have low blood sugar, but I'd eaten. I'm a bit of bleeder, don't mind people watching. My mind was still unfocused, looking for something but unaware of what. I was excited, knew that I needed this, but something was missing.

And then she asked me, "What design do you want?" and it snapped into place.

This was my ritual. This was my healing.

I bared my breasts, and the discussion began.

Once, long, long ago, my patroness was Artemis, the Huntress. Night-swift and sheer, cruel and loving and loyal and wild. Goddess of the Moon, of Hunters, and of Virgins. In her guise as Hecate, Queen of the Witches and Guardian of the Crossroads.

I learned of my Lady of the Wild Places in the 6th grade, in a book of Greek mythology. I had no idea what paganism was, that anyone still believed in or worshipped the old Gods. But I walked the woods near my home, a wild and free thing, and I talked to her. I asked her questions, I told her my secrets, and I came home comforted.

When I was 13, I learned of my faith. Mostly, I learned that I'm not alone in what I'd come to believe.

When I was 15, I lost my virginity in a story which you can read here, but I'll not go into today. But I still belonged to Artemis because I was still a virgin in the Greek sense of the word- a woman who is owned by no man. Chastity had little to do with it, it was that she- and I- belonged

only to ourselves.

When I was 17, I met Wolf.

And I no longer believed that Artemis was a suitable Patroness for me, because he owned me. Oh, not in a D/s sort of way, but he owned my heart, and it was on him that I based most of my decisions and it was for him that I tried to change who I was.

For 7 long years, I've missed my Patroness, my first Goddess and one of my dearest friends. I've spent 7 years believing that I belong, on some level, to a man.

Last night, during the Witching Hour, with a Priestess as my Guide (trust me to go to a BDSM party and meet a Priestess!), I reclaimed my Self, my Heart, and my Goddess.

She leaned over me, and we shared ourselves and our hearts as she sliced into my flesh. She has her own wounds, as do we all, and the ritual we shared healed some of hers, too. I'm grateful for that, I wouldn't have it any other way than that my healing aided in someone else's as well- and I believe that the Universe knew that when It engineered this little bit of synchronicity.

The scalpel is sharp, and in the books they say that there is no pain because of it. They lie.

I Am My Own.

No, I am not ignoring or forgetting my amazing Jack- but he has never sought to own me, merely to share in my life.

I had to breathe, in, out, in, out, in out, and she checked on me. Compassion and love and pain and healing in her eyes the mirror of my own.

I Am My Own.

Not Wolf's, not any man or woman's.

It took a long time, getting the curves just right. I've practiced this myself to do on Lucivar, and it's hard. But my right breast- the one which they say that the Amazons, worshippers of Artemis, cut off to shoot better- is scarring now with a small crescent moon, the symbol of my renewed bond with my Goddess, and my healing from a wound that is 7 years old.

I Am My Own.

Thank you, Lady Steele, for your gift of healing.

Goodbye, ashke

I said goodbye to Wolf yesterday.

Not zhai'helleva, not 'see you later'. Goodbye.

I don't say goodbye much. I say, "tschus," which is one of several German words for "see you later," (The primary version, "auf wiedersehen," literally translates as, "to be seen later"). I don't say goodbye. It's too final, too strong.

I don't let go well. Not even of those I should. I never have.

Wolf has been in my life for 7 years, he was my first real lover- the first person to teach me that sex could not only not hurt (thank you, Jewel!), but that it could feel really good. Before Wolf, I knew that only in the abstract.

He is the one who, by betraying me, taught me how strong that I am.

But he crossed the last line yesterday, threatening harm to someone who is mine. Yes, I'm aware that he views this person as his, but you do not protect someone by threatening them with harm.

Hurt me, break me, betray me, and I will smile through my tears and offer you forgiveness.

Harm someone who is mine to protect, and I will hunt you to the ends of the earth.

There can be no love, no honor, no respect left between us after this. It is not in me to hate someone I once loved, but this childish, dishonorable behaviour has broken the last remaining thread of love in my heart for him.

I feel bruised inside, soft and sad and afraid, because I do not want to walk away from someone I spent so much of my time and energy loving. I don't want to give up, to abandon a love that was once the most important thing in my life- a love I based more decisions around than I'll admit even here, a love I believed would last forever. I don't want to admit that we failed even as friends.

But I cannot sustain a friendship with someone who can't be civil to me, someone who threatens his own brother out of anger at me, someone who has betrayed me at every turn and now seeks to betray his own brother.

So goodbye, ashke. I will miss you, but I'm remembering what I had forgotten- my life is better without you in it.

Curled

We are curled together, on his couch. His body still curves around me as perfectly as it did so long ago, and his skin is the same combination of oil, soap, and male that I have found irresistible since the day we met.

His fingers are gentle in my hair, brushing through it as we chat about inconsequential things. The conversation is irrelevant- it is this, this touching, this sharing, that we are here for. 

No one knows him as inside-out as I do, and yet loves him anyway. No one else touches him with the same knowledge of who he is, flaws and strengths and fears and passions. I know this, not because he has told me, but because he hasn't. 

And so I stroke the line of his jaw, and I let him touch me.

He does not know me, not as once he did. Nor is it me that he still loves: it is the memory of a 17 year old ingenue. But for the sake of that ingenue and her love for him, I accept that, accept the memory of his hands hot on my body and his lips tender on my skin.

My own heart belongs to another now, but his body still fits to mine, and his arms still give me the safety that I crave, if only briefly, terribly briefly.

His hair

His hair is a silken curtain around us. I've never had another man with such long hair, or even a woman. It cascades, soft and sweetly scented, around our faces, tiny strands tickling my cheeks and making me smile involuntarily. 

His face is relaxed, smiling, and I realize how much that I want to kiss him. 

His lips will still taste like stale tobacco, completely unacceptable on anyone else but simply the price of kissing him. 

As he leans in to me, seeming to read my thoughts, I take the iniative and brush his lips with mine, gently. 

There is so much pain between us, so much hurt and anger. For 7 years I have nursed my rage and my pain, but right now he is offering me a gift that he is one of the only ones who can: a few blessed moments of safety, of the assurance of being wanted and loved. 

Tomorrow I'll go back to hating him as much as I love him. 

Tomorrow I'll remember why I shouldn't do this. 

Tomorrow. 

But tonight... tonight I will breathe in the softly scented silk of his hair, and I will let myself feel safe, and wanted.

Rambling thoughts on responsibility and poly

Disclaimer: No, there's not a damn thing wrong. I'm having an absolutely amazing time at DomCon, including meeting the lovely Bunny (Lucivar's work-girlfriend), and the room arrangements are working out better than I could ever have hoped for. Jack and I had an absolutely wonderful time co-Topping Lucivar, and Kat is his usual wonderful self- seriously, I'm having a wonderful time, I'm just being hormonal so deal with it. It's my blog and I can whine if I want to.

I'm so tired. Goddess help me, I'm so fucking tired. I'm tired of all of it. But mostly, I'm tired of being needed, of being the responsible one. I'm sick of being the one who gets th ebills paid, who reserves the hotel room. I'm tired of being the one who makes the lists and ensures the pets get fed.

I'm so tired of being the one people need.

I need, just for a little while, to be with someone who doesn't need me. For whom there's nothing going on but the touch of warm skin. Someone who I can trust to take care of me- someone I can be safe needing, without them needing me back.
Actually, it's not that. It just that I've been the one in charge, the one responsible for too long. I just want to run away for a little while, to hide against somoene stronger than me. I need to not be the strong one. Problem is, I don't know many people who fit that bill.

I need, just for a little while, someone to be stronger than me because I need them to let me be weak. To let me give the responsibility to them. Just for a little while. I'll take it back, I promise.

But Kali's skirt, I'm so fucking tired.

Please, can I just hide against you for a little while? Just relax, just pretend for a little while that I don't have any responsibilities?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you knew that you would die today
Saw the face of God and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low you cannnot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?

This song feels really poignant for me right now, for some reason. Yesterday, I talked to Wolf for a long time about poly.
Specifically, about the fact that we'll never be together again because I am poly and he is possessive. Those are simply facts of life, like saying that he is male and I am female.

He kept going on and on about how it was a choice I had made to live this way, and it was hard to explain to him that I do not choose to be poly anymore than I choose to be bi. I could choose to never act on it, but I would still naturally be poly, and it would no more feel right or fulfilling to me than a straight marriage feels to a gay man. Sure, it's a choice, insofar as acting the only way that you can and still be happy is a choice. So this song is especially poignant right now, as I struggle with some guilt for not being what Wolf wants me to be. I can't be. Not and be happy. I love him, but eventually, I would come to resent him and be angry and we would lose not only our relationship but the friendship that is so precious to me.

So I think about this song, "Would you change?"
No, actually.
"If you knew that you would die today, saw the face of God and love, would you change?"
No. No, I really wouldn't.
Because I love who I am and what I do. Because I love the people in my life, even when I want to strangle them for the very fact that they are in my life.
I love my boys, all of them. I love my life, when a night in the quiet room reading a book is more novel than a night at a fetish club during a major BDSM convention.

"If you knew that love would break your heart, if you're down so low you cannot fall, would you change?"
I wouldn't change because I have been there. Love has broken my heart- loving Wolf, actually- and you know what? I healed. Sure, there are scars, but scars are marks of valor. They're signs you've lived your life.
I've been there. I've been down so low I could not fall. I have had times when I did not know where my next meal would come from, times I gave very serious thought to suicide and even worked out the best way to do it and spare my loved ones as much pain as possible.
But I healed. I healed, and I built this life I love.
I wouldn't change, because not only do I love my life, but I feel like I'm living the best life that I can. I tell my boys, all of them, damn near every day how much I love them. I try hard to make damned sure that my loved ones know how much they mean to me, how important they are to me.
I work hard and I play hard. I volunteer with the Red Cross, I recycle, I'm active in my UU church and do more than most, quite frankly, to make my world a better place.
And most importantly to me, I work hard to make the people in my life's lives better for my having been in it.

Sure, there are things I could do better. I'm lazy, and I'm self-absorbed. I'm selfish, and I take things for granted. I am the last person on Earth who will say that I'm perfect- because I'm not. Nowhere fucking near it.

But I'm not half bad, and I think I'm doing pretty damn close to the best that I can.

Wolf

Wolf and I talked tonight. Like, for a while.

We talked about our past. We talked about that vague, nagging hope that we both have for a future together.

Wolf : Hugs. Thinking of you. Kisses.
Me: *tight hugs* I've been thinking about you all day. How are you love?
Wolf: Miss you bunches.
Me: Miss you too. I'm feeling really strangely vulnerable tonight and I'd give a hell of a lot to curl up against you
Me: You make me feel safe, and I'm kinda really wanting that right now
Wolf: I'll always do my best to keep you safe.
Me: I know, love, and that's one of the reasons it's you I'm craving right now
Wolf: You always bring out a possesive protective animal side of me
Me: *nods* Do you remember that I told you once that you make me want to both roll over and show you my belly, offer you my throat
Me: And at the same time sink my teeth into yours and claim you as mine
Wolf: Makes me want to hold you and take you all in the same breath.
Me: *nods* Exactly
Wolf: Not sure what to feel/do. I have so many mixed feelings
Wolf: I want you to make your decisions. And live your life as you want it to be.
Me: Which is admirable, but how can I make a decision without it being an informed decision?
Wolf: I don't want to influence your decisions.
Wolf: I want them to be yours
Me: Wolf, you've been influencing my decisions for nearly 10 years. What makes you think that will change now?
Wolf: You know how I feel.
Wolf: And what I want.
Wolf: But I'm not going to push you either way
Me: *nods* I do know. But there's more than loving and wanting to anything. And other than that loving and wanting, I don't know what's going on in your head
Wolf: I've made mistakes with you in the past. I'm trying not to do it again. I do care. Way more than I should. More than is probably good.
Me : *tight hugs* We've both made mistakes. Your mistake wasn't pushing me, it was pushing me away. Don't ever be afraid of pushing me in regards to how you feel.
Wolf: But I wouldn't change how I feel even if I could.
Me: *smiles* Good, because neither would I
Wolf: I'm trying not to let myself get scared and push you away again.
Me: I know. And you have no idea how much I appreciate it. You really don't. The way you've let yourself be open to me has been.... incredible. I don't know the words for how much it's meant to me
Me: this just came on my pandora and made me think of you: Tracy Chapman "Baby Can I Hold You"

One of the things that killed us 7 years ago was his inability to open up to me. I felt vulnerable, but in an unpleasantly one-sided way. I was completely transparent to him, to use the D/s buzzword, but he was utterly opaque to me. So I took that the way that any 17 year old would: obviously, he didn’t care enough to talk to me. It never occurred to me that maybe he was as terrified as I was. It never occurred to me that maybe he was scared and hurting, too. After all, he had gone to great lengths to portray himself as strong and in control and confident.

Give me a break. I was 17 and I worshipped him. I didn’t know any better.

Now, I look at him, at us, at what we used to be, and what we have been, and could have been, and could still be, and I wonder. I wonder if maybe we could do it right this time.
And then that cynical side of me raises her pragmatic head, and I wonder how he’d handle me cutting Lucivar’s chest and licking the blood from the wound. And I wonder how he’d handle my sleeping wrapped around Kat and him kneeling before me. I wonder what that possessive animal side of him would think of me coming home with someone else’s scent rubbed into my skin.

And that’s when I sigh and realize that I doubt I will ever have him again.

Vulnerability

I have a love/hate relationship with vulnerability. I spent a long time hiding. I'd only show what I thought people wanted to see. Nothing was spontaneous, everything was scripted for effect.
I made the right gestures, I showed the right facial expressions, I made the right little noises.
Even during sex, you only saw of me what I wanted you to see. I was never vulnerable unless I chose to show you vulnerability and then only a certain amount, scripted to get a response from you. I showed just enough vulnerability, after showing my strength, to make you feel like maybe that supposed vulnerability was special and shown just to you, that maybe you were the one who I felt safe with. I scripted everything to make you want me, and eventually, to make you love me.

Then I met Wolf, and for the first time I really was vulnerable. I really was honestly happy, and honestly scared, and just plain honest. It was exhilarating not to hide, to honestly eel things and show them. But it... didn't work out well for me.

So I retreated again. I put up the masks, and they got me through some really hard things.

Then I met Bunk, and I married him because he offered me safety and friendship, and that was all I wanted and thought I could handle. I tried to be honest with him, but I kept lapsing back into old patterns.

Then I met A. And he showed me my submissive side. He made me scared and happy and very, very vulnerable. He read me, he knew when I was lying with my face, my eyes, my posture, and he taught me honesty with him. I loved it.
But A couldn't give me what I needed outside of scene, so I found Jay. He was a Dom, he said, and he said he could read me, could give me that vulnerability and exhilaration.
He couldn't, and in fact I learned better than ever how to hide everything from him because he knew how to make every issue my fault, how to twist the knife in me. So I shut down, and I stayed that way for over a year before leaving him.

Enter Jack. I could be honest with Jack because I was leaving. We were never meant to be long-term. So I said, "Fuck it, I'm tired of hiding. I'm leaving, he can see me and it won't hurt anything because we won't be together long enough for him to get attached."
That was 2.5 years ago. Today.
I've spent 2.5 years being more honest and emotionally aware than ever in my life. I've consciously resisted manipulating him, given him the most honest and vulnerable parts of me and done my damndest to make this work. I've loved it. It's been an incredible feeling to have someone know me, inside and out- not just what I was willing to show them, but all of me. The fear and the issues and the scars and the broken bits and the strength and the kindness and the stupid obsession with self-sacrifice and the laziness and the need and the pointless ramblings. All of me.

But last night, I put the mask back on because it was more important to me not to hurt him than it was not to harm myself.

And I think it broke me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to be vulnerable, be able to just drop the masks and quit hiding behind them.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm better off keeping them.