From the bottom
It’s the anticipation he fears.
The endless tumble in the pit of his stomach. Not knowing. Giving up everything with no return promised. But it arrives. Always. Regardless of interaction, whether gentle caress, stinging slap, or simply ignored. It always returns.
He yearns. Pines. Flinches. Wants. Adores. Hides. Desire, desire, desire.
There is a certainty of nothing. He wants everything and silently pushes for more. For enough. The junkie fixed on the immediate. More, more, more. Now, now, now. Stop. More. Stop. More. Stop. More. More. Stop. Stop. STOP.
He melts and dissolves, static flows downstream, he gives it all away. Willingly. Wantonly. Wantingly. The nervous calm arrives. At her word he is nothing of himself and everything she commands.
He bows to it. Embraces it. Sinks in to the swirling emotions, chemicals billowing cloud-like through him. Breath shallow. Lips dry. Eyes flickering nervously. Covered. Dark. Isolated. Connected. He touches her soul once more as his explodes. Ka-fuckin-boom.
Darkness amplifies the noises, deafening and shrill in his ears. His brain a hurtling race car, charging through the gears, tyres leaving strict marks as he burns, trying to place the sounds, always in second place.
He guesses anyway. Wrong. Right. Game of chance. Take a card from the Top.
Reactions spark nerve ends before the movement even begins.
New sounds heard through tightly closed eyes, veiled in black. A fist, clenched tight, muscles scream and roar.
Then the chemicals fry his brain.
Inside, through it all, he is smiling.
Happy, content, safe, loved.