165. About love, 3

(Rose)

I see a great smile in my dream. A sadistic smile with a piercing gaze above it. A gaze that freezes the blood in my veins and scares me to the point that I wake up in a cold sweat.

That nightmare again... The face of a strange devil is haunting me. Blume is comforting me, used to my bad dreams. I cannot count anymore the number of times when she comforted me and reassured me after I woke up in cold sweat or tears.

Her vines are shaped like thick velvet ribbons now. They're soft and slide around my skin easily. It feels remotely as if she was holding me in between her arms. I always hear her voice directly inside my head however, never close to me.

I wipe a teat while a ribbon holds my hand softly. I bring it to my face without thinking to feel the soft silk or velvet onto my cheeks.

I'm not feeling cold under my blanket in that tent, but I miss some more comfort at times. A presence that wouldn't be half buried within my own body, shared body.

I've put my lips on the ribbon to enjoy the softness a little. She lets me do as I please.

I can move those appendices at will too but I rarely do. It's her share.

She tells me that she loves me. I reply that I'd like a cuddle.

She ponders about it for a few seconds. I feel my body moving on its own shortly after.

I'm lying down on my belly and she's caressing my back gently. It's not as warm as a hug, but as I close my eyes, it feels as if someone was very softly massaging me.

I try to imagine someone, a human shape, taking loving care of me. Blume has no face I can put on this shape unfortunately. I enjoy feeling what is acting as her hands gently massaging my back, slowly tenderly.

Since I can't picture her face, the face of the one I love and whom is caring for me, I remember yours instead. The face of the one I loved most before her isn't a bad choice. I feel more at ease thinking it's a little bit of you taking care of me and being kind to me dearly.

Even though we never were that close.

I can enjoy with her what I could never have with you, a love that is more romantic. With some gentle pleasant touches.

As she massages my shoulders and my arms, I fall into a soft lull. I'm feeling good.

We rarely do things like that. You know I'm not fond of touching or naked skin. It's a rare desire to be touched a little. I'm glad she's there to relieve me lovingly. Respectfully.

She massages my muscles and joints in a way I cannot describe. Because as I surrender my body with trust, she can work on them not only from outside like every massage, but also from within too. She makes every muscle fibre stretch and tune properly. It tickles everywhere and feels as if she massages me deep, all my flesh is, from skin to bones.

This feels blissful after a point, when all my body has been caressed that way.

I'm lying there on my back now, perfectly straight, taking a nap it would seem. I'm enjoying the soft vanishing of the thrills. It's a blissful lull she offered me as a cuddle. I mumble an inaudible thanks. She chuckles at it I think and kisses me on a cheek.

Well, that's how it felt to me at least. My eyes are closed so I dream of her human shape pulling back from what felt like it. Your face smiling. She loves me; She loves me so much.

My feelings are complex but hers sure aren't. I could be shocked or repulsed by many things, my love can tremble, move and change upon mood or day time for any reason. Hers is... Just her.

I love you, she said. That's about the end of it. It's a frighteningly absolute love she has for me. Beings like her process emotions differently and can easily turn obsessive, while our reason and body easily balance our feelings.

Nothing comes to balance her feelings toward me. It's a part of her identity as a sentient being, it cannot be undone.

I'm doomed to enjoy an absolute love for ever. Woe is me. I chuckle. Another thing I find myself unsure about what I should do with, is this complete love she has for me.

It's truly a miracle or a wish granted to me, and I feel like I'm wasting it slowly, being indecisive. I'm taking her for granted now. I may be right, but that's not very kind from me.

I'm not really kind to her.

I do say I love her, but my words are far from carrying the same weight as hers. They probably carried more weight when I said them to you.

It's not right. I'm not being fair to her and to her love.

I do love her, but I'm being oddly prude. I've been a beast at grim times. I don't like discussing about it even though she would like it. She would love everything from me and I'm being egoistical.

I was disgusted by sex despite the pleasure it brought to me, when it happened last time. I don't want to remember what happened to me in my previous experiences regarding sex.

But I'm mean to her, keeping my past as pretences not to step toward her. But sex is a tough subject for me.

But I should reconsider the arbitrary barriers I've put up against this widely undefined area, I should for her.

I owe it to her, to reconsider how I act, and what means my love for her.

She deserves it. She's put up with a lot for me, and teases me more than she complains...

I don't feel good enough for her, but I act as if she's not good enough for me.

Yet I can't begin to say how much I'm lucky to be the subject of her sincere love. I'm so lucky to have her. So, so lucky. She's a gift beyond dreams or reason.

I should be more grateful.

It took me time, but I'll softly begin opening to her my heart a little deeper, a little more sincerely.

I will be kinder to her.

Because I can't lie, I do love her. I love Blume.

~