[Iggy groans. It's a tortured sound, because his body feels good, feels fantastic actually, but the question calls up a million little hurts. He isn't sure how to rank them, because he does his very best to ignore them completely.
Gratitude. That's what he focuses on instead of resentment. Pleasure instead of pain. Joy instead of sorrow.
Iggy drops his head, eyes squeezed tight. His thighs tighten, his hips jerk.
He doesn't want to talk about this right now. But he doesn't know how to say no.]
no subject
Gratitude. That's what he focuses on instead of resentment. Pleasure instead of pain. Joy instead of sorrow.
Iggy drops his head, eyes squeezed tight. His thighs tighten, his hips jerk.
He doesn't want to talk about this right now. But he doesn't know how to say no.]
My mother. She cut me out of her life.