Wrapped in tinsel and sparkling under fairy lights, I realise for the first time in a long time, I am deliriously happy. Because, of course, of course, being in love is amazing and maybe one never really feels like living unless they’re trapped in an electric kiss, but right now I’m with my family and my friends, and right now electricity doesn’t matter because I adore these people, and I adore the haze and the happiness and the heat in the air. Merry Christmas. Have a good one.
Have a Merry Christmas. I fucking love you all.
We walked arm in arm down the cobbled slope of the Royal Mile at a quarter to five,
suffused with a glow engendered by several bowls of well-peppered oyster stew and a bottle of wine, shared at intervals during our “private communications.”
The city glowed all around us, as though sharing our happiness. Edinburgh lay under a haze that would soon thicken to rain again, but for now, the light of the setting sun hung gold and pink and red in the clouds, and shone in the wet patina of the cobbled street, so that the gray stones of the buildings softened and streamed with reflected light, echoing the glow that warmed my cheeks and shone in Jamie’s eyes when he looked at me.
The muscleboy was so well trained now he instinctively sent his master videos of him working out, grinning and subtly flexing as he felt that familiar sexual appetite rise in his groin. In his earbuds, he could hear the sound of that pleasant, whirring buzz that subconsciously instructed him to think less…. work out harder… get hornier and hornier. His tongue flapped out of his mouth and his eyes glazed over in a glassy haze - he was nothing but a happy, horny himbo fucktoy now. The more he released his mind to the strange amicable lust he felt for muscle and sex, the more at peace he felt. This is how it was supposed to be