(no subject)
Apr. 15th, 2003 01:20 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
maubast.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfiction(410 words)
I watch him every chance I get, wondering what he would feel like in my arms, in my bed, in my life. I want him; I want him so badly that I sometimes wonder if it's possible to die from wanting.
I see him interacting with women and the jealousy that threatens to consume me sometimes also boils over. I try not to take it out on him, I really do, but sometimes - sometimes I just want to shake him until his teeth rattle. Doesn't he realise what he has in arms reach? He tells me he wants someone loyal, honest, and true, someone who will love him no matter his faults, and yet, he does not see what has been here since that day I walked into the twenty-seventh precinct and a stranger with another man's name greeted me.
Oh, I've cautiously flirted with him, he's flirted back, but he never seems to understand that I truly do want him and I simply do not know how to ask.
At first, I admit, it was pure carnal lust that made me want him. I wanted to have him beneath me, submitting to me, giving me his body and nothing more. I normally do not have that reaction to other people. But he was so sexy, so beautiful....
I keep my emotions and my needs and my desires hidden away the best I can, but even I could tell that my feelings changed each time I saw him, and I was sure that it was as obvious as the nose on my face to everyone else that as time went on, I wanted - and needed - more. I wanted his love. I wanted to be the sole object of his affections.
In my minds eye, I can see how he might touch himself, how he might bring himself pleasure, and that draws me into touching myself. As my hand slides up and down the shaft of my penis, it feels good, it does, but still... I still cannot but wish it was his hand on my penis instead of my own.
At night when I'm alone, in my bed, naked, my hand on myself, I think of how I might bring him pleasure, how hearing him say that he loves me might actually feel. It's such an astounding thought that it's hard to comprehend.
Still, I dream about it, and I still watch him, every chance I get.
I watch him every chance I get, wondering what he would feel like in my arms, in my bed, in my life. I want him; I want him so badly that I sometimes wonder if it's possible to die from wanting.
I see him interacting with women and the jealousy that threatens to consume me sometimes also boils over. I try not to take it out on him, I really do, but sometimes - sometimes I just want to shake him until his teeth rattle. Doesn't he realise what he has in arms reach? He tells me he wants someone loyal, honest, and true, someone who will love him no matter his faults, and yet, he does not see what has been here since that day I walked into the twenty-seventh precinct and a stranger with another man's name greeted me.
Oh, I've cautiously flirted with him, he's flirted back, but he never seems to understand that I truly do want him and I simply do not know how to ask.
At first, I admit, it was pure carnal lust that made me want him. I wanted to have him beneath me, submitting to me, giving me his body and nothing more. I normally do not have that reaction to other people. But he was so sexy, so beautiful....
I keep my emotions and my needs and my desires hidden away the best I can, but even I could tell that my feelings changed each time I saw him, and I was sure that it was as obvious as the nose on my face to everyone else that as time went on, I wanted - and needed - more. I wanted his love. I wanted to be the sole object of his affections.
In my minds eye, I can see how he might touch himself, how he might bring himself pleasure, and that draws me into touching myself. As my hand slides up and down the shaft of my penis, it feels good, it does, but still... I still cannot but wish it was his hand on my penis instead of my own.
At night when I'm alone, in my bed, naked, my hand on myself, I think of how I might bring him pleasure, how hearing him say that he loves me might actually feel. It's such an astounding thought that it's hard to comprehend.
Still, I dream about it, and I still watch him, every chance I get.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}