God, it's such a wonder to me, sometimes. Still. I'm feeling totally shitty from Aunt Flo making an appearance in town (started yesterday, but really got going last night), bleeding everywhere, worrying whether these tiny little pads are going to cut it. I've been on the computer downloading books for the last while. I figure to take advantage of reading material before we end up in the car.
The lavender scented candle I lit-- just for the smell of it-- is doing its magic and relaxing me. If only I could take it and my sore, achy self to the big tub and have a soak. Ah well. There'll be time for that next week, when doing so won't make my erstwhile relaxation look like a Carrie rerun.
I look back, and K's sleeping on the blowup bed. We lately moved into the master bedroom, as his mom's finally moved all her stuff out of there. It's nice to have our own bathroom. It's nicer to have that HUGE tub for soaking and a rain shower if we want it. We have a lot more stuff than we ought to, and last night Kenny talked about "cutting down"...which frankly makes me anxious. It's just things, right? Who cares about things? But still, there's that anxiety. I don't want to live in the car. I want a home. But I'll do it anyways, and I won't voice a single complaint. Because I love him.
I look back, and I see him sleeping there. Completely undignified, mouth open a bit, breathing loud enough, but not so loud that it could be considered snoring. His hair's a mess-- predictably-- and he's about a week overdue on a shave. All the same...
I look back, and I get this RUSH of sensation. My breath catches. My throat and chest tighten. Tears prick in the back of my eyes. At the same time, I feel that overwhelming something, making all those little signs by themselves mean...just about the opposite of what they look like on the surface.
It's love, pure and unadulterated. And I think to myself, like I have a million times before, "How the hell did I get so lucky?" Closely following that is a murmured tickle in the back of my mind: "...god, he's so gorgeous."
It's love, pure and unadulterated. And I think to myself, like I have a million times before, "How the hell did I get so lucky?" Closely following that is a murmured tickle in the back of my mind: "...god, he's so gorgeous."
I thought with some time that this sort of emotional response in me would settle down into something more...sedate. It still hasn't. I wonder, will it ever? Every time I look at him, I become so overawed by...us, by everything. Yeah, the sex has slowed down a bit. We're not teenagers, I guess; humping like bunnies isn't quite so important as "I'm exhausted from sleeping on the floor a month" or "Just not feeling so well today". But the thing that hasn't left is the desire. It's there all the time, lurking away under the surface of me.
I'd do anything. Anything he wanted. Now, surely, but for always, too.
Yesterday, he pinned me to the door and tickled me mercilessly. I protested, gasping for air and laughing all at the same time. I always protest; I can't not, it's just a natural reaction from me. He leaned in and laughed a bit. "What's the trouble? You like being dominated..." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact.
Hahaha yes, yes I surely do. That little pulse in my neck, pounding away erratically. The feel of whiskers against my cheek, scratching my sensitive skin all red and tender. Hot breath on my neck, accompanied by the sound of his exhalations. The sheer force of his presence looming over me. It's thrilling, pulse-pounding, deep down, and at the same time I feel utterly safe.
I realized, I think, at that point, that this is what I need more of. Maybe I just realized it now. Maybe I haven't thought about it much at all.
He doesn't need to dominate me, see. I go willing like a lamb to the slaughter. ...if a lamb could be tickled to death, of course. Then, I would be just such. At the same time, I suppose I need it, just like I tease and taunt him about his weak little love-slaps. Or any of the other things I do-- like the smarty-mouth lipping comments I tend to make. It's all teases and taunts; maybe I'll get a rise out of him and deserve a good, sound thwap?
...more importantly, would doing so give me more of what I want and need? Can't say as I know the answer to that one. Going to have to give it a bit more thought. Hmmn.
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