(Aya)
It is better to be alone now, in my room, in the dusky silence I prefer when my nerves are jangling from the sheer idiocy of all this. Yohji has such stupid illusions. Tells me he loves me and then goes out whoring around, no matter what he calls it. Chasing lost dreams, I believe, just as I tried to cling to the past, to my memories, to my old self. It's not worth it; it made me weak and sappy – not a useful thing in my line of work. He should have grasped this by now, but then he never does. He can be dense if he wants to be.
What did he expect? He more or less laid himself out for me, and when I asked him to show me what to do, it was not about sex. I have banged a couple of women and know my way round – it was business, paid women who don't ask questions and don't expect to be seduced; I could control the whole thing and leave without further ado once it was done. Business. An efficient way to deal with this matter, and I was not surprised to find it rather bland and very unlike the stuff in the porn magazines Yohji shares with the chibis.
I merely asked him to show me how to do it with a bloke. Having relief close at hand can be helpful indeed. I hate the haunts he visits, I do not want to deal with the noise and the stupidity of it all, so chances that I'd pick up a suitable fuck are remote; neither do I like the idea of coming home with a different screw every other night. And paying for it every time – well, I think it's really not worth it.
Consistency is nice. Consistency means stability, a constant, something I can control. There are not many consistencies in our lives. I know he gets himself tested regularly; he is meticulous and careful about these things. He is reliable with that, which I find convenient. He also is a great shag, which at first surprised me, but then I suppose he has honed his skills in countless practice sessions. I prefer not to think about this. So this side of my needs is nicely taken care of, an arrangement to suit both of us... though sometimes he bothers me with his love-talk.
I hate it when he clings, so he tries hard not to let on.
He might not talk fluffy nonsense anymore if he knew what I would really like to do to him, and it makes me wonder sometimes just how much darkness there is inside me. For I would like to take him without fuss, fuck his mouth and come over his face, see him hurt and anxious, his eyes watering with pain and humiliation, while someone else has my backside the way I really want to, rough and without much care, plain sex and nothing else. I just know who I would like for that, but Yohji cannot grasp why I hate his on-off thing with Schuldig. Who, by the way, knows exactly what I want, why, and how. We are kindred spirits, I think, and Yohji's sunny mind is unmarred by this particular idea of fun.
I'd rather he stayed that way. Unspoiled... sort of.
It means that I won't live out those fantasies, at least not in their entirety, because Yohji has the knack to disarm me with those cow's eyes he gives me, all love and affection and, damn him, sincerity. He thinks we have more than convenience fucks, and for all I keep telling him, I cannot get him to grasp it. I do not want him to love me.
It still startled me to find that I cannot bring myself to hurt him like that.
Not like I want things to hurt.
Why then does he have to run to Schuldig?
xxx
Next chapter: Frozen Pride