[And his head's so full of you that the combination of every little thing that you do to him or say to him is dizzying. He complies, of course, as best as he can given the fact that it doesn't quite feel like his body is his own.
That would be your fault, really. He's yours, because he loves you fucking much.]
Yes. Please.
[Words are so difficult when you're this far gone.]
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That would be your fault, really. He's yours, because he loves you fucking much.]
Yes. Please.
[Words are so difficult when you're this far gone.]