Do you remember when I took you to the Riviera, Harry, right when we were first falling in love with each other, and we spent all night by the sea? You let me put my hands all over you, you let me bury you in the sand, and then uncover you, over and over, all your gorgeous muscles disappearing and emerging, your beautiful cock, ignored, straining inside that speedo, while I petted and adored every inch of you? Can’t we go back there again, leave all of this behind, and be together, just for a weekend? I’ll make that dish with the oysters again, the way you like. We can take the boat out to our favorite little cove, have a picnic on the water, drink champagne, and I’ll touch you wherever you need it. Tell me where you need it, and I’ll kiss you there, I’ll lick you and suck you there. You won’t need to beg for it, darling. It’s already yours.
Merlin, Harry, sweetheart,, my love, not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. She means nothing to me. NOTHING. I could see her two months a year, at the most. We could live apart entirely, and you and I could have our own apartment, or we could live in the country. I’ll resign and stay home all day, waiting for you, ready to fill you up, ready to feed it to you.
Why do you hesitate? Am I a poor lover? Am I too weak, too strong, do you even know why you won’t come to me? Why you won’t let me adore you? I am yours in everything but name, darling. Say the word, and I will be there with you.
My sweetheart. My darling. Harry. Please.
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