"You're dead to me," I plaintively state, venom dripping from every word. With each new word formed and projected through my mouth- the pain, anger, frustration, disappointment and cold callous hatred can be felt in the air as they hang there. "You don't deserve our love and you never did."
====
It's been two weeks since that moment. Two weeks filled with revelations, pain, anguish, anger and disgust. Two weeks since those words drove a knife into your heart. Two weeks since the final blow was struck, ending what was once a beautiful union.
What had been done in the twilight hours of the relationship was monstrous. And yet, I can't help myself but to still care. I can't help but leave my heart open. I hate it. I hate this feeling. This terrible hopefulness and empathy. Every excuse has been flung at the wall, but nothing's stuck. The wall has just gotten darker with every passing day.
And yet, that feeling persists. The gnawing in my chest remains. I just want to grab the nearest object and cut it out. I hate it, I just want it to go away. What compels me to feel this way. Is she really that special? Did I feel deeper for her than I ever cared to admit? I don't know, and wracking my brain with these questions just drags me deeper into the cold abyss where I've grown to feel accustome- "What's on your mind, baby?" Vixen asks, warm concern in her tone, ripping me back to reality.
I blink a couple times, shooing away my thoughts. I glimpse around me, taking in my surroundings, as if I were on another planet just a moment ago. It's a late, slightly chilly evening. I'm downstairs, in the corner of our L couch, Vixen under my left arm, resting her head on my chest while we watch a movie. Well, that was until she looked up at me with those doe eyes and saw my face, laced with trouble and a serious contemplation.
She gingerly placed her hand on my chest, over my heart. "Baby?" She tried again.
I look deep into her Autumn brown eyes. Those eyes, so full of love. For me.
"Nothing, it's okay," I try.
She tilts her head and the corners of her mouth crack into a slight frown.
"Baby," she repeats, a little more insistently, with only the slightest hint of sadness. Sadness that I hadn't told her, that I hadn't trusted her with my inner thoughts immediately.
I feel guilt wash over my body, joining the still gnawing feeling hanging within my chest. I relent. "I'm thinking about her, I can't stop and I don't know how to stop." The desperation is obvious in my voice.
Her frown quickly vanishes and she draws herself up next to me. Her expression turns to one of concern and care. "It's okay to feel, you know this," she reassures me, "It's normal."
"But it's not
my
normal," I quickly fire back. My voice dropped lower, as if the walls would hear me. "But
I'm
not like this. I don't obsess over people, and I certainly don't forgive when people wrong me. It's never this hard, and it never hangs with me." I sound sad, the disappointment in myself leaking through the cracks in my armour.
"But you're different now," she presses on, trying to soothe me. "You're a different person, and you yourself said she was special."
"But
why
is she so special. Why can't I just be angry with her and be done with it?" I plead. "All I want to do is accept reality and move on. I don't want to be this idiot who's clinging to someone who's treated me like shit and probably forgotten me already." Tears welling in my eyes.
She clasps my limp hand in hers and squeezes. "Maybe she was more special to you than you realised." Her eyes searched mine, looking for those hidden thoughts, struggling to empathise with me. She desperately wanted to feel what I was feeling. She wanted in.
I consider those words for a while. A long while. The silence in the room is defeaning, broken only by the screams in Vixen's eyes. "Maybe," I finally manage.
"I'm here for you baby, whatever you need," she reassures me softly, and she turns back to keep watching the movie, leaving me to my internal storm once more.
====
Much later, deep into the night, Vixen and I are getting ready for bed. I haven't been able to stop the feeling. Gnawing. Constantly, no matter what I've done. Nothing has been able to distract me for long. My thoughts constantly drift back to her, to what happened, and my own feelings of guilt. We've watched a movie, talked it out for hours, hung with the cats, I've meditated and we've played games together. And yet, it still remains, consuming my thoughts like a whisper is overtaken by an orchestral climax.
Vixen reaches across the bed for my cock, trying to break me from my thoughtful stupor. It's flaccid. Not just flaccid, but smaller and softer than she'd ever felt it. She tries to stir something in me by giving my balls a squeeze, but I just turn to her to offer her a helpless, sad smile. I'm not used to this. I'm the type of person who can get hard just from a kiss, even after already cumming 10 times that day. I'm so hypersexual, that I'm the only one Vixen has ever tapped out from. None of our sluts have been able to keep up with either of us, and it's a running joke amongst our subs.
However, since it happened, I haven't been able to get hard at all. And by that, I mean
