sam-eliot​:
My perfect boy. Here, use this pillow for your knees. Get comfortable, then put your hands on my knees. I’ll run my fingers through your hair. Tell me more about how you feel. What do you mean by strange? I’m right here, baby. I will always be right here. We’re talking about you, sweet boy. Thank you for telling me something was wrong, you’re a good boy. I want to know when you’re sick or upset.
I’m not perfect, Sir, but I want to be for you. Yes, Sir. Right now, right away. That would be...Really nice. I wish I knew how to describe it. Usually I have all the words but in this instance I feel like I just...Don’t. I don’t necessarily think I’m sick, or even getting sick. I just feel...Kind of empty, almost? Even that isn’t the right word. It’s like...Like I’ve been in a desert without water for a while. Like I need something but I don’t know quite what I need, or even how to begin to determine what that might be. Maybe it’s anxiety. Maybe it’s just...Really bad anxiety. I’m sorry, Sir, I wish I could be more helpful or more descriptive. I know. I trust you, I trust and know you will be. But it’s incredible to hear it. I love you. Yes, but I still want to know about you. I still worry. Thank you, Sir. I knew you would. I know it’s only a detriment to myself when I keep things from you.Â













