And nothing but the truth (SOG)
I wish I could just tell Rupert I still love him, sink into his arms, and let him hold me until the morning came (after we already had done, several times). It's a lovely fantasy, but I'd' be a fool to believe it could ever happen. For a few moments, when things are going well enough, I can allow myself to pretend that it's still possible. I may be able to delude myself briefly, but I'm no fool.
Should I ask you what I want to know the most, Rupert? Do you still love me? (The way I still love you... I never stopped.) -- Could I bear it if you told me no? And said it out loud?
No. I couldn't.
Anything - anything at all except that. Don't ask, don't tell. I know one person always loves more, and I know it's me, but that wouldn't matter to me if you would show me that you loved me at all. Or even that you were willing to put up with me.
Do you still want to fuck me? I think I'd be on safer ground, there. (Just say the word, Rupert, and I'm there.) Do you ever think about me, and the things we used to do, or am I the dirty little secret you try to hide -- even from yourself?
Maybe you can pretend hitting me is only violence, that it doesn't excite you that way, but I know better. I still see you getting hard long before you finish with me. Why leave it incomplete, Rupert? Why don't you just fuck me, the way we both know you want to? Shove it down my throat, up my arse, I don't give a damn as long as you do it, somehow, somewhere, somewhen.
Shall I wind you up so that you'll beat me now? Just so I can feel your hands on my body again? If that's the only touching you'll give me, I'll take it. I'll always take it over nothing at all. The same way I would rather have your hatred than your indifference. At some deep level, in my heart and mind, I'm still yours, Ripper. Always have been, always will be. Whether you want me to be or not.
Should I ask you what I want to know the most, Rupert? Do you still love me? (The way I still love you... I never stopped.) -- Could I bear it if you told me no? And said it out loud?
No. I couldn't.
Anything - anything at all except that. Don't ask, don't tell. I know one person always loves more, and I know it's me, but that wouldn't matter to me if you would show me that you loved me at all. Or even that you were willing to put up with me.
Do you still want to fuck me? I think I'd be on safer ground, there. (Just say the word, Rupert, and I'm there.) Do you ever think about me, and the things we used to do, or am I the dirty little secret you try to hide -- even from yourself?
Maybe you can pretend hitting me is only violence, that it doesn't excite you that way, but I know better. I still see you getting hard long before you finish with me. Why leave it incomplete, Rupert? Why don't you just fuck me, the way we both know you want to? Shove it down my throat, up my arse, I don't give a damn as long as you do it, somehow, somewhere, somewhen.
Shall I wind you up so that you'll beat me now? Just so I can feel your hands on my body again? If that's the only touching you'll give me, I'll take it. I'll always take it over nothing at all. The same way I would rather have your hatred than your indifference. At some deep level, in my heart and mind, I'm still yours, Ripper. Always have been, always will be. Whether you want me to be or not.