Foxy, you made me blow a load in my jeans.
I hold on to the nape of Morpheus__ neck, burying my face in his jacket. Nikki and Chessie burrow into my hair. I inhale Morpheus__ scent. It__ the only thing I recognize, the only thing that__ safe.He carries me back to the well-lit room and sets me gently on the table. I can__ stop trembling. My throat aches from holding back sobs.
Ensnared
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I hold on to the nape of Morpheus__ neck, burying my face in his jacket. Nikki and Chessie burrow into my hair. I inhale Morpheus__ scent. It__ the only thing I recognize, the only thing that__ safe.He carries me back to the well-lit room and sets me gently on the table. I can__ stop trembling. My throat aches from holding back sobs.
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Spread, Foxy. Show me that sweet spot.
Christ, you have a body made for sin.
You ready for this? You ready for what I__ gonna do to you?
You been taking care of yourself a long time, Foxy. You must be fucking hungry for it. I bet you__e drenched right now.
Now you see. We are all fugitives. We have always been fugitives from the void. Whatever comfort, whatever power we gain from outside of ourselves diminishes us -- because comfort and power, unless they are won from the void inside of us, are illusions that make us forget the emptyness that carries us. When we forget that, we believe we deserve comfort and power and so are capable of any evil. We deserve nothing but what we make of ourselves. We deserve nothing else. And when we understand that, then nothing is enough.