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lavandarlizard2Well, it's not the holidays or my birthday and the full moon never made me feel like a cheap fur rug on a cold tile floor before, so that leaves depression. Dandy. *sigh*
But that's just a cheap bid for sympathy. On to the important stuff.
BFB - 087e - Strange Days V
The hour is late and he has finally succumbed to sleep. I have these few moments before I sleep as well to touch and caress him without triggering a flinch or a startled gasp. I am rubbing gently at that lovely spot just above his tailbone, smoothing my fingers over the fine hair and velvety skin.
The body is often amazing in its responses; its cells and nerves carry memories far longer than even the mind. Once it was determined that the drug was no longer in him, Mistress Loquinn immediately attacked the residual pain and accelerated the body’s own healing. All physical damage has been repaired. Dr French has come and examined him again to be certain that nothing was missed. The two healers have guaranteed to us and to Q that everything is now perfect.
There are apparently no potions or charms, however, to relieve the memories of nerves and cells still expecting pain and abuse. Apparently, no one has ever considered such a thing necessary, or even possible. We have requested – well, in my case it was an order – the Wizards in R&D find time to work on creating such a thing. It will not be of help to my angel, but it will surely benefit someone in the future.
He has not rejected my embrace or turned away from my kisses, but if I come up behind him or catch him drowsing he still startles. I refuse to take it personally; it has been only days, after all; as soon as he recognizes, by scent or touch, that it is me, he relaxes, but it is a constant reminder to both of us that he was however briefly possessed by another. Another who had no permission and no right to do such a thing.
For me it is a constant reminder of my failure. It is different from the other time, in Indianapolis. Angry as I was over that, he was not then my Chosen; he was not mine to protect, though that is a fine line. I have the same protective feeling toward all my close friends, including, though I will never say it to him, Chang Wufei. I am a guardian; it is what I am, what I do. Anyone who touches my heart and to a lesser degree, my territory, is mine to protect. The episode in Indianapolis frustrated me because Duo claimed no injury. He barely acknowledged that anything even happened. He seemed determined to believe that because he was not injured, other than being knocked out, there was nothing to be concerned about. He appears to have even forgotten the whole incident. I have not. If circumstances ever allow me to find the person responsible for that attack, I will not be particularly forgiving. I do not accept failure as inevitable.
In the past days, Duo has had no problems being held or kissed by me, but as we both feared, anything further is... difficult. Certain words, certain touches make him tense and afraid and there is no backing up and trying again when that happens. He is frustrated at being unable to let it go. I am frustrated at being unable to take it away for him. He has said more than once that I should... just continue, not stop when he goes suddenly still or begins to hyperventilate. He wants so desperately to get past that final barrier. He is willing to ride the fear and the possible pain just to return to what he sees as normal.
I am a guardian. I am a Wyvern. We are not a perfect race; I am sure that there have been dishonorable Wyverns who would have no compunction against doing as he asks. I am also sure that any such Wyverns, if discovered, would have been severely dealt with by their IchiBan or other Clan members. Such behavior is not tolerated amongst my kind. I am comfortably sure that most of my kin would find even the suggestion of such an insult.
...but... he is my Chosen... He needs me, he wants me. He has more than once dissolved into angry frustrated tears at his inability to control his body’s reactions. And that only frustrates him more. It is becoming an ugly cycle for something that should be nothing but pleasure and joy.
Q has told us that we must be patient; time heals or at least dulls all wounds, he says, and it will dull or erase this wound as well. But my Banshee is not patient. He is not used to caution and hesitation. His methods more often involve gathering as much information as he can and then just flinging himself at a problem. When the problem is himself and his own mind, though...
I rub his shoulders, his back, smoothing my palm over the small of his back and down to lightly cup his butt. He draws a deep breath and lets it out as a long sigh, moving a little, suggestively. At another moment in time, I would take that as an invitation; now I dare not.
Instead, I edge closer to curl around him, letting my hand move to his waist, my leg hooking over his reassuringly. His hair is loose and all over the bed. I’ve moved it out of my way so I don’t lay on it and waken him. Now I gather a handful to bring it to my face, breathing deeply of the scent of his shampoo mixed with his pheromones.
He fears that I will leave him if we cannot resume a sexual relationship. He doesn’t say this to me, but it is clear in his actions, in his rising level of anxiety. I have told him I will never leave him; he is my Chosen. That is not just a cute word to me; Wyverns do not Choose lightly. Many Wyverns never meet someone they wish to Choose. This is why we are required to produce children for the health of the Clan. My grandmother has never in all her years Chosen.
I love him, I need him. I want him more than any creature I have ever met, but the physical desire is but a part of that. He is light and charm and bounce; a leaping, bounding, fluttering rainbow of emotion. He opens up my soul and lets the light in, lets me feel that rainbow. How could I ever wish to be rid of that? When I tell him that, he sighs, and leans into me almost sadly and I can feel him wondering how long I will now put up with him being so... dull. It frustrates me, not being able to convince him, but I haven’t the power of words, only actions, and that is what I must use.
I make sure to touch him often, in our rooms and in the office. When we go out, I hold his hand or lay my arm around his shoulders. Sometimes he twitches at the first feel of me, and casts me apologetic looks, but he always relaxes into my touch, so I know that what we have has not been irretrievably broken. I take that as a sign of being on the right track; a sign that we will conquer this. I have never shied from touching him; I love the soft cool feel of him. I love the sizzle of his pheromones on my nerves. I love the way his body would yearn toward me without thought and I will have that back. If it takes therapy, if it takes years, I will have my Chosen back. We will banish this nightmare together. He will be whole and happy again.
...tbc...
But that's just a cheap bid for sympathy. On to the important stuff.
BFB - 087e - Strange Days V
The hour is late and he has finally succumbed to sleep. I have these few moments before I sleep as well to touch and caress him without triggering a flinch or a startled gasp. I am rubbing gently at that lovely spot just above his tailbone, smoothing my fingers over the fine hair and velvety skin.
The body is often amazing in its responses; its cells and nerves carry memories far longer than even the mind. Once it was determined that the drug was no longer in him, Mistress Loquinn immediately attacked the residual pain and accelerated the body’s own healing. All physical damage has been repaired. Dr French has come and examined him again to be certain that nothing was missed. The two healers have guaranteed to us and to Q that everything is now perfect.
There are apparently no potions or charms, however, to relieve the memories of nerves and cells still expecting pain and abuse. Apparently, no one has ever considered such a thing necessary, or even possible. We have requested – well, in my case it was an order – the Wizards in R&D find time to work on creating such a thing. It will not be of help to my angel, but it will surely benefit someone in the future.
He has not rejected my embrace or turned away from my kisses, but if I come up behind him or catch him drowsing he still startles. I refuse to take it personally; it has been only days, after all; as soon as he recognizes, by scent or touch, that it is me, he relaxes, but it is a constant reminder to both of us that he was however briefly possessed by another. Another who had no permission and no right to do such a thing.
For me it is a constant reminder of my failure. It is different from the other time, in Indianapolis. Angry as I was over that, he was not then my Chosen; he was not mine to protect, though that is a fine line. I have the same protective feeling toward all my close friends, including, though I will never say it to him, Chang Wufei. I am a guardian; it is what I am, what I do. Anyone who touches my heart and to a lesser degree, my territory, is mine to protect. The episode in Indianapolis frustrated me because Duo claimed no injury. He barely acknowledged that anything even happened. He seemed determined to believe that because he was not injured, other than being knocked out, there was nothing to be concerned about. He appears to have even forgotten the whole incident. I have not. If circumstances ever allow me to find the person responsible for that attack, I will not be particularly forgiving. I do not accept failure as inevitable.
In the past days, Duo has had no problems being held or kissed by me, but as we both feared, anything further is... difficult. Certain words, certain touches make him tense and afraid and there is no backing up and trying again when that happens. He is frustrated at being unable to let it go. I am frustrated at being unable to take it away for him. He has said more than once that I should... just continue, not stop when he goes suddenly still or begins to hyperventilate. He wants so desperately to get past that final barrier. He is willing to ride the fear and the possible pain just to return to what he sees as normal.
I am a guardian. I am a Wyvern. We are not a perfect race; I am sure that there have been dishonorable Wyverns who would have no compunction against doing as he asks. I am also sure that any such Wyverns, if discovered, would have been severely dealt with by their IchiBan or other Clan members. Such behavior is not tolerated amongst my kind. I am comfortably sure that most of my kin would find even the suggestion of such an insult.
...but... he is my Chosen... He needs me, he wants me. He has more than once dissolved into angry frustrated tears at his inability to control his body’s reactions. And that only frustrates him more. It is becoming an ugly cycle for something that should be nothing but pleasure and joy.
Q has told us that we must be patient; time heals or at least dulls all wounds, he says, and it will dull or erase this wound as well. But my Banshee is not patient. He is not used to caution and hesitation. His methods more often involve gathering as much information as he can and then just flinging himself at a problem. When the problem is himself and his own mind, though...
I rub his shoulders, his back, smoothing my palm over the small of his back and down to lightly cup his butt. He draws a deep breath and lets it out as a long sigh, moving a little, suggestively. At another moment in time, I would take that as an invitation; now I dare not.
Instead, I edge closer to curl around him, letting my hand move to his waist, my leg hooking over his reassuringly. His hair is loose and all over the bed. I’ve moved it out of my way so I don’t lay on it and waken him. Now I gather a handful to bring it to my face, breathing deeply of the scent of his shampoo mixed with his pheromones.
He fears that I will leave him if we cannot resume a sexual relationship. He doesn’t say this to me, but it is clear in his actions, in his rising level of anxiety. I have told him I will never leave him; he is my Chosen. That is not just a cute word to me; Wyverns do not Choose lightly. Many Wyverns never meet someone they wish to Choose. This is why we are required to produce children for the health of the Clan. My grandmother has never in all her years Chosen.
I love him, I need him. I want him more than any creature I have ever met, but the physical desire is but a part of that. He is light and charm and bounce; a leaping, bounding, fluttering rainbow of emotion. He opens up my soul and lets the light in, lets me feel that rainbow. How could I ever wish to be rid of that? When I tell him that, he sighs, and leans into me almost sadly and I can feel him wondering how long I will now put up with him being so... dull. It frustrates me, not being able to convince him, but I haven’t the power of words, only actions, and that is what I must use.
I make sure to touch him often, in our rooms and in the office. When we go out, I hold his hand or lay my arm around his shoulders. Sometimes he twitches at the first feel of me, and casts me apologetic looks, but he always relaxes into my touch, so I know that what we have has not been irretrievably broken. I take that as a sign of being on the right track; a sign that we will conquer this. I have never shied from touching him; I love the soft cool feel of him. I love the sizzle of his pheromones on my nerves. I love the way his body would yearn toward me without thought and I will have that back. If it takes therapy, if it takes years, I will have my Chosen back. We will banish this nightmare together. He will be whole and happy again.
...tbc...
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-26 06:20 am (UTC)*drops chocolate and Starbucks gift card on the Plaid Dragon Shrine* Training next, yes?
no subject
Date: 2005-01-27 02:01 am (UTC)...mmm... gifts....
Training... Um... Eventually...