G.B. Gordon

“Bengt didn’t budge. “Talk to me, damn it.”“Let go!”“And where are you planning to go, Alex?”“Away!”“You can’t get away. You’re lugging your own prison around with you and patching up any holes from inside. Brilliant tactics, really! How does it feel?”“Safe!”

“But there was nothing except this languid contentment of satisfied desire, as if the rules had changed or the world wasn't the same anymore.”

“Maybe it was possible to relinquish control. He could do this, with Bengt he could. Give himself up and fly. He closed his eyes, let himself be pulled in by the touch. Bengt's arms. Bengt's hands on his thighs, arms, chest. Lips and tongue on neck and shoulders, the need for more. 'Don't stop.”

“I can't repair my wall as fast as you can tear it down.”