Ropes and Lace | MM Romance PREVIEW

Chapter 12 - Imagine Me

I've always had a vivid imagination.

As a child, not possessing flesh and blood friends, I filled the need with fictitious creatures that accompanied me on my lonely days. That used to drive my parents crazy, and rightly so, as they would often catch me talking alone in my room or drawing deformed people and figures that, while I swore I knew them and they lived in my closet or under my bed, the sad truth was that they didn't exist. I was taken to countless psychologists and psychiatrists, only to return home soon after, relieved to be assured that I was going through a temporary phase and that it was perfectly normal for a five-year-old.

When I was in high school, it caused the bullies in class to tease and harass me. My appearance, of course, didn't help either. I was overweight, had huge thick glasses, and a bad case of acne, but I think they took more advantage when they caught me engrossed in my thoughts, in the fantasies I developed in my mind to escape my depressing reality, or caught me drawing mediocre sketches of heroes in epic combat poses. When I realized that most of those characters were male and that I contemplated them with more than just admiration or yearning, I began to doubt my sexuality.

When I entered college, I used that advantage to exploit my creativity to the fullest. It was one of the best periods of my life, especially because my hormones stopped being constipated and the abrupt growth my body experienced meant that no one had the guts to bully me. My grades were excellent, I graduated with honors, and I gained the trust and affection of someone as amazing as Chloe.

In the work environment, it has helped me to visualize what kind of scenes I would like to photograph, establishing in advance the required parameters and solving with simplicity the economic and climatic challenges that could represent a problem at the execution of the task. I can perform without errors, delays, or inconveniences the work of a whole specialized team, without assistants or dispensable mishaps. The only negative is that it takes me three times as long, but at least this way I don't have to depend on anyone and the result is mine alone, which greatly increases the gratification derived. And the fact that I can pocket all the profits is another plus.

Now, what I hate about having such a vivid imagination is that... it spreads into my dreams.

The nightmares are horrifying. The realism of the monsters is terrifying; the anguish of a troubling, stressful, miserable, or demoralizing situation haunts me to the surface, where it digs its ugly claws into my shivering, sweat-soaked limbs with unwavering insistence; the reminiscence of a regrettable or dark event from the past feels like I'm going through it all over again.

On the other hand, the good ones are wonderful. I can dive into the illusion with abandon, waking up light and in a great mood that lasts for a whole week. And the one I'm having at this very moment? This, thankfully, is one of those.

I'm on top of a man, both of us completely naked, rubbing against his burning skin in lazy but demanding movements. We swim among a sea of purple silk sheets, exploring each other with soft, seductive, insatiable touches. The stranger drops his head back, exposing his slender neck so I can adorn it with the bruises my nibbles produce. I groan as his salty, spicy taste floods my taste buds, lessening the pain my teeth generated with wet strokes of my tongue.

His long, torturous moan strains my balls, his voluptuous legs imprison my waist and his fingers bury with tantalizing slowness in my hair, tugging the strands so hard it makes me gasp and then he scratches the back of my neck with his blunt nails in a circular pattern that tickles my belly. I wrap our erections in my calloused fist, spreading the pre-seminal fluid we're both squirting to lubricate the friction. A scream climbs up my throat from the overwhelming pleasure, but I manage to stop it before it flows through my parted lips.