[breed.] sender fucks receiver deep and finishes inside. + reverseăâă@chokesme
You would never,ăever find yourself with the roles reversed.ăItâs not something you can so much as fathom happening.ăNot when the very notion of another having power over you,ăanother being above you,ăbeckons a darkness to your stern gaze,ăa spiral of fury down to the pit of your stomach.ăYou donât like that furyă⸝ăyou canât stand it nor the person it morphs you into.ăDebased by yourself,ăeternally chasing the high born of Angel deliberately quickening your heartrate.ăYou let him do it without question,ădesperate to unravel those tightly wound threads of normalcy strung up in your chest.ăWhatever kind of person his presence reduces you to,ăyou love it.ăLife is easier when you stoop to those murky depths,ălosing yourself in a wildfire of sex and violence.ăThe simple explanation is that every part of yourself is at odds,ăan existential paradox.ăTo be tender has underlying threshold of toughness,ăforged by the defense of what is yours and yours alone.ăTo be gentle implicates you in robust strength,ăsomething you always have the capacity to employ and merely opt against.ăBeing a man entails both what you are and what you are not.ăEndure that complexity.ăTolerate it.ăAngel always manages to tug it loose because you are so grossly hyper-vigilant around him,ăsurveilled by a panopticon of menâs expectation.ăForever struggling to measure up.
Back and forth and back again:ăwhat does Angel get out of this?ăIs it only to meet those carnal needs?ăWhat does a man of his caliber gain from giving it up to you?ăFestering warmth until it is snuffed out too suddenly,ăyou two are close,ătoo close,ăand the gelid bite that follows makes your head spin.ăTry (fail) to put him in his place,ăand lower yourself to all things you despiseă/ăthe violence you have been running fromă/ăthe violence you have been running fromă/ăthe violence you have been running fromă/ăthe you you have been running from.
He lets you do it,ăso you do it.ăMaybe the kissing comes first,ăas you think itâs meant to,ăweak approximation of every women youâve been with prior.ăIt was always like you were following some glossy-paged guidebook hidden in your skullâs margins,ăput your hands there,ădonât move too fast,ăplant a kiss and then another against petal-soft lips failing to entrance or allure you.ăYouâd press on anyways,ăcoax yourself into passable hardness sufficing in sheathing yourself inside,ăpraying youâd finally feel something.ăYou never did,ănot like you feel now.ăHeart thrashing wildly,ărising to some grand crescendo while your hands tremble with adrenaline,ăwith the thought of all things you want to do to him.ăYou know itâs not quite rightă⸝ănot the proper way to comprehend things,ărationalize and spin a worldviewă⸝ăto think of this exchange in absolute black and white.ăBeing the man above him doing the fucking doesnât enforce any true superiority in you,ăbut fuck,ăit feels good,ăalright?ăYou feel good about yourself in doing this,ălike youâre somehow taking the things you lack straight from him.ăLike a leech or a parasite.ăYou donât care what he says or what he has you do so long as you have that over him.ăYouâre a fucking idiot,ăDae-ho.
Itâs not the first time this has happened,ăbetween the two of you,ăand you pray to whatever fucker is up there that it wonât be the last.ăThe kissing,ăthatâs right,ăyou know you donât do it very well.ăThereâs too little tongue and too much teeth,ăand some stupid amalgamate of the two,ăbut itâs just enough to rile you up in stripping garments off,ăbaring beefy chest thatâs puffed out obnoxiously,ăbull-headed oaf that you are.ăYou roughly grab at his face,ăjust shy of pulling him onto you.ăYou want and want,ăand for once in your life,ăyouâre going to get.ăAvalanche of progression,ăthen,ătouch on touch on touch on touch snowballing to where youâre effectively begging to fuck him with your desperate pawing,ăweakening at the flash of broad grin dissipating into nothingness.ăHe says something that doesnât register,ămaybe something that you donât care enough to internalize if it doesnât directly escalate to you pushing inside.ăFinally.ăFucking finally.ă
This,ăagain,ăfeels simpler when itâs all take,ăoffering up no vulnerable parts of yourself to be stolen away by these late-night trystsă⸝ăwhen you have him pushed over on the mattress,ăleft hand pinning down just below his neck,ăbetween his shoulder blades.ăNo eye contact,ăno distress,ănothing.ăYou are free to fall victim to temptation.ăYour skin glimmers with sweat,ăthe fruits of your labor,ăhaving worked your thrusts up to a satisfying and consistent pace.ăYou hit deep,ăbiting back an impassioned groan each time you fuck into him.ăThat damned left hand,ădepraved and solicitous,ăsnakes up,ăsearching for a fistful of hair to tug.ăTake some violent action to feel something,ăto embolden yourself in all that manliness you know you lack,ăpitifully,ăpathetically.ăEventually you will cut this thread loose,ăwhen Angel has outlived his usefulness in his life,ăwhen you no longer feel urged to bask in the self-hatred that he alone unleashes in you,ăalways without fail.ăSometimes that dread creeps in before youâve chased the peak of your climax,ăa lilt in your thought process to remind that youâre not gay,ăthat this says nothing about you so long as you are man enough to do the fucking.ăItâs not always easy to believe.ăYouâre an experienced liar,ăafter all,ăand the person youâve deceived most often has always been yourself.ăTrying to be something youâre not.ăStronger.ăSmarter.ăBraver.ăNot a fucking faggot.
This is so goddamn stupid.
ââăâŚăââăLips curl inward,ăradiating with words unspoken;ăyou want nothing more than to bring him down to your level,ămake him feel as small as you do.ăItâs the one thing sex canât remedy.
Fuck,ăthen.ăYour free hand traces down his back,ăweaseling into grasp at his sides.ăEvery action you take burns with envy.ăYou want to look more like him,ăact more like him.ăYou want more attention than he gives you.ăYou want to smash his stupid face in with a hammer,ăor at least shatter the ice-block of this back and forth,ăpush-pull,ăhot and cold.ăYou
You canât take it anymore,ănot these nauseating feelings,ănot the heat pooling in your gut.ăA lean of your weight forward,ăjust to bridge the gap,ăjust to feel close enough for your worthless plight to mean something.ăWhatever power you have now,ăyouâre choking on it.ăââăI hate you,ăââăyou sputter,ăhips fighting tirelessly for your release.ăââăSo much.ăSo fucking much.ăââă(Itâs not worth a lot.)ăBeholden to your lechery,ăyou chase this stupid gratification no matter the harm it brings you.ăYou slam into him,ăshifting to pull him further down onto your cock as you finally spill into him.ăYour grip intensifies,ăblunt nails dug to where they may not do damage;ăyou try and try and try and it will never be enough.
(And this isnât glamorous,ănowhere near it.ăYou are sneaking around to some hotel room costing more for a night than a monthâs worth of your groceries.ăYou are angry,ăwith Angel,ăwith yourself.ăHe brings out the very worst in you like heâs getting paid to do it.ăMaybe you if you had the courage to defend yourself,ăresist his batshit provocations designed to perfectly burrow beneath your skin,ămaybe things could be different.ăYouâre not man enough for that.)