| Dear Diary,
I want him to use me.
That sounds weird, doesn’t it? I don’t understand.
Sometimes, late at night, I wake up in his arms, and if I try to move, he pulls me back. He’s stronger than he lets on, and he holds me tight, closer, possessively. I feel helpless in his grip. His breath turns hard, and he nuzzles the back of my jaw. It makes me whine, and I feel him stiffen, by reflex twitching his hips against my rear. Maybe I’m still dreaming, but I think I hear him almost snarl.
It’s okay. In a minute he relaxes, and he’s the same sweet, cuddly boy I’ve always known, babbling love-notes in his sleep.
I never see that part of him, so different from when he’s awake. He has a cat’s dignity. He wears it like armor and never lets anyone in, I think not even himself. Even in bed with me, he talks and acts just like he writes, everything gentle and refined, carefully styled just so.
I love him for it. It’s beautiful. He treats me like his princess.
But there’s this other part of him. It’s a little scary, actually, like the jungle that never leaves the cat. He probably doesn’t even know it’s there. I wonder what he would think?
He loves his princess, and she loves him. But right then, when he takes her captive and she can almost feel his teeth…
. . .
More than anything, she wants to be his whore.
-J!
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Late at night, sometimes, you whimper. I think it wakes me every time.
It scares me just a little; I know right away that something’s wrong. You’re as close to me as a prayer. Even without touching you I could recite you, could trace by memory every inch of you between my lips and upon your tongue, in my arms and against my hands. Even without listening, I know every sound you make, and this isn’t a noise you make in pleasure, even when it’s edged in pain. You’re scared, but I don’t know what you’re dreaming, only that I reach out to touch you and find you always frightfully cold, shivering even on the warmest summer nights.
I slip a little closer, just to hold you, and you burrow quickly into my arms. You feel so tiny there, even smaller than I know you are, fragile like you’ve never been before. You feel like a kitten, almost, warming as you relax and settle against me, nearly purring as I trace my fingers down your naked spine. Two kisses leave you calm again, one beneath the your hairline, another pressed between your eyes.
The rhythm of your breath grows steady; the moonlight whispers across your skin. I watch you for a moment and squeeze you closer, joining you in your dreams. One thought leaves me nervous, though… it’s a nervous shiver of my own. Maybe, somehow, I’m to blame.
Sometimes, in your frightened whimper, I think I hear my name.
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