missing pieces

He gives me so much. But sometimes it doesn't feel like he gives me much. Little teasing tidbits I snatch and suck the life out of, transferring all their flavour into me, I lick them to the bone, wish for more.

He makes promises, suggestions I leap at, then doesn't play them out.

I know why. He needs to keep himself safe. And strong. Be what he needs to be, for him, for me.

But I need the forbidden feelings, the truth and the pain and the wanting - I want it, to sacrifice it to the dark space in me, the velvet black pit that opens up and calls for more. His blood, his tears, his cum. The pain, the fear... I could eat it all. Suck it all up and swallow it, each shivering word. And ask for more. Insatiable.