Bitch, bitch, whine, bitch.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
The trip really was lovely - those boys are darling, but I fear for them. Especially after reading Diego's entry. I did some searching and found a few support groups in the LA area they could attend - I think being around people going through the same things they are would be incredibly helpful. Making love with Gael was so sweet it made my heart hurt. He is so beautiful, so fragile, so brilliant. I do not often pray (and never ever for myself) but I do pray for him. I just won't tell him.
I got back to London only to have a message on my home voice mail from vincent_cassel asking me to come over because he had a favour to ask of me. I showed up yesterday afternoon, with no idea what to expect. Vincent, bless him, is an odd duck at the best of times, and one never quite knows what's going to come out of his mouth at any given moment. As it happens, this time the request was to do a scene where I fuck him as he fucks Monica. I have to admit to a certain surprise - Vincent is staunchly toppy and dominant. He's never even been fucked, in point of fact, and he wanted me to remedy that situation. I was certainly touched. He is a dear friend, and until I met Antonio, he was pretty much my perfect dom, and one of the only people I have ever let seriously mark my skin. And yet, when he asked me if I wanted to go 'practice', all I could think was how sweet and precious this truly was. I made love to him slowly, made it as goddamned good as I knew how. By the time he was lying in my arms, he was more bonelessly sated than I've ever seen him. Felt a bit smug, I did.
And it certainly kept my mind off Rufus for an afternoon, which is more than a welcome idea. My stomach aches when I think about him, in that strange way that only dissipates when you pull your beloved on top of you and press your belly up to his as hard as you can. The sheer, twisting ANGST of this is so foreign to me. With Antonio, I was so thoroughly swept off my feet there was no time to angst over it, or worry about it. It just happened. Is this then that pesky feeling people always talk about when they say say love hurts? Yeah, well. No shit. It fucking kills.
To make my ridiculously complex life even more difficult, there is Javier. Antonio told me, in a shared revelation before we left for LA, that his feelings for his brother run deeper than mere brotherhood with some lust thrown in to make things interesting. He's in love with Javier, and Javier is getting a divorce. Well. I can't say that this upsets me, but how could I fail to realise what a high stakes game this is, now? So much depends on how well I can handle this. I told Antonio that Javier must come stay with us for awhile after the worst of the divorce is passed, so that we can pet him. Antonio wants them to have a house of some sort together, so that they can have their time, and how could I deny him? It's just...much. Very muchly much. I need to wrap my head around it all with the assistance of alcohol, music, and pot, yes I do.
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