I’ve come to realize I can only ever tell you these things after you’re safely out of reach. If you were still in my reach and I let it all out, I’m afraid I’d tear you to pieces or swallow you whole. I want you that much.
You make me crazy — in the good way. But also in a way that scares me, in a way that makes me so fucking glad I love you as much as I do because otherwise, I’d destroy you.
You’re too willing and I want too much. I’d binge on your flesh and I still wouldn’t be satisfied because there’s no way having you could ever come close to the magnitude of wanting you. It’s not possible. However much I get, I always want more.
Wanting you is simultaneously the most satisfying and most frustrating thing I’ve ever experienced… and I fucking love it.
You’re mine, boy. I won’t let you forget it.