"Tell me, Reva, do you feel?" Dorian asked me in a hoarse voice. "I've told you I want you to feel," he kept, by rubbing his nose on mine.

He's not playing. He's serious, and he means every word. He wants to hear me; to understand if I still feel.

"I always feel," I give him the confirmation, which my body reveals without scruples.

His hands caress my shoulders and roll slowly down. His fingers are locked with mine while I watch breathlessly the frown on his eyebrows. He doesn't look me in the eye. He looks at our joined hands as if he hurts unbearably.

I get upset looking at him. Why does he hurt to hold me? He slowly raises his eyes and looks at me even darker. He swallows hard while I watch the walnut to his neck go up and down. I melt in front of him and he can see it. He bends slowly and gently joins our lips. He tightens his eyes by deepening our kiss while he's moaning from the depth of his neck and the sound sets fire to my whole body. Our fingers are still tied.

I feel like I'm pulling out of his soul a pain unknown to me. He unravels our fingers and lifts me into his arms wrapping my legs around his waist. Our lips are still together.

He lays me in bed, capturing me with his hand my two hands over my head. I flicker my eyelashes; it's a reaction of awkwardness in front of him, but also of desire. My legs unfold from his waist slowly by rubbing his sides.

He frees my hands and starts leaving wet kisses on my neck and chest, making my back hunch like a bow. With his tongue, he makes a path from my sternum to the bottom low. The tip of his tongue caresses my entrance gently making me swallow hard and clench my teeth. His breath warms my sensitive area slowly and painfully.

I want to scream, but I'm eager to keep my pleasure to let him continue whatever shit he has in mind to do to me. I'll take it all unconditionally. No reaction at all, and I'm so fucking sure right now that I feel a power overwhelming me for the consequences I will face after all this.

I feel like I could even take on the devil in order not to take him away from me. I am possessed by an obsession not to deprive me of anything the feeling and filling that he gives me. A stubbornness that Cupid provides me exuberantly to say what I'm saying now with him.

He lifts my leg and starts kissing my ankle. I look at him standing up, masculine, fit, and beautiful. A beauty, that's Dorian. He kisses along my whole leg, the shank, behind the knee, inside my thigh until his face stands a breath away from mine. He gets inside me a little and looks me in the eye. I take short breaths while my mouth is left open in the shape of an O.

He pushes his erection inside me slowly, feeling every contact in our union, while his eyes never left mine. He winks at me sensuously, as he goes in and out faster, joining our lips. I whine and my eyes sting feeling my orgasm reaching the top.

Dorian leans down to my ear and whispers to me, "Together..." touching my lobe on his lips. He's speeding up his move, and we both reach the peak. I only whisper his name like a seal of confirmation that he's the only one who makes me feel this way.

***

I jumped abruptly into the sweat as if violently pushed. "Oh, no, my God..." I stuttered desperately. "No... it was a fucking dream, it wasn't real. Why was it a dream?! No, god damn it..." I went on mourning with a trembling voice. It was the most pathetic thing ever. I was starting to feel sorry for myself. Even if I wanted to get away from my pity, it was impossible. How can I despise myself to escape my pitiful consolation?

How can this now be a stupid feeling of love? I can feel it; it flutters inside me just seeing him.

Love turns out stupid when it ends up not being real and passing by. Here it doesn't pass. It's getting stronger every time, damn it. How far will it go? How much more loudly will it flutter inside of me?

I don't need this to cover up any loneliness, hell, it's strong, it takes my breath away when the heartbeat calms down and I don't hear it. As if something's missing; like oxygen's running out.

Cupid, why you didn't ask me who I will love? Why did you come for him? Why... What kind of meanings do you give to life and do you play with the conditions to make me fall whenever you want...? And without sense, I'll follow you like a waif in your willingness even if my Logic would scream to turn my back on you.

If I'd listened to logic in the first place, I'd have been saved from the havoc you threw me into; even if I wasn't living something extraordinary. At least I would have escaped your merciless ego that convinced me with lies that it was my choice.

That's what you do, Cupid. You get in front of the eyes and twirl around the heart until you capture her, and then you give up on me supposedly choosing with my free will. But you never told me how bad afterward would be.

You know, Cupid, how to fill the emotional void I miss, and you plenty give it. How will my heart keep beating from now on without him? I need time, the logic says. To do what? Will this give back the meaning? Or will I just get used to living with loss until something interesting comes along to fill me up again? No.

Time doesn't heal the wound. Time does the same work as you, Cupid. It makes me either want it or I don't want it to play its game. Time forces me to move on against my will. Both time and love abuse my free will differently.

Love filled me and time emptied me. Which of the two did I choose? I played the game on both sides and now I'm alone again counting moments from the past that may have passed, but they stayed in the presence of my mind.