… We pass police cars as we drive out of Burnsall. You’re not worried, telling me no one even believes what it is you do. I put my hand on your belly, wedged between your spine and the dashboard, and feel the powerful muscles of your stomach rhythmically contract, breaking down the youth I dared to jump. The vibration of the engine helps the process. The body is almost slop when I choose to pull us over by a tea room in a little village.

After you came to visit me, whatever devil had been driving me seemed to dissipate. We spent the next day together, it being one of those long lazy mornings that turns into evenings, with you appreciating not being required to move your newly acquired bulk too much. Talking, playing games, watching things on your phone—these all were interspersed with long, luxurious tummy rubs, helping ease the growing digestive discomfort as your body worked on the previous day’s meal.

I am a fool. I am so lucky. I watch as your eyes close again, the better to savour what you take from my wrist. Watching your eyelids feels like watching the guillotine fall. I can’t pull away. When I try, your arms feel like iron, and you rock only the tiniest bit. Blood loss fuzzes my motor control, making me feel hot, weak and shaky. Watching the rhythmic pulsing of your throat isn’t helping matters.

It’s been a few days since we’ve seen one another. It’s unusual for me to be absent like this. I’m not great at responding to text messages at the best of times but it takes half a day for me to respond to your check-in. When I text to ask if you can meet me at mine it’s a bit inconvenient. You’re a little annoyed at my disappearing act and you’re considering saying no to teach me a lesson, but my next message piques your curiosity.

So this morning you wake to find me sitting upright in bed, leafing through a copy of Grey’s Anatomy I brought with me last night. You stretch your neck to see what I’m reading. The technical drawings depict humans cleanly broken apart, carefully labelled, bloodless. I smile and wish you good morning, lean down and place a kiss where your black hair is mussed up from where you slept. You half-close your eyes, cat-like, and snuggle closer.

This cuddle is in a pillow fort. Fuck the outside world. We have hung fairy lights inside some sheets thrown over the backs of a settee and a couple of chairs. Cushions everywhere, and a bottle of Bailey’s. You’re sitting on my lap on the floor and have been curled into my shoulder for fully five minutes, my arms around you, just taking a break.

So today… We play with rope. After I wrote a little bit about it you asked if I actually tied people up. I explained that I’m no expert but can do it safely, then held your hand and asked you if you’d let me tie you. I think you found the slight shyness in my voice cute, and the intensity in my eyes a little hot. After some discussion and teasing you said yes, and the predatory look came to my face again, which you have come to learn is linked with a desire to feed or please you.

I stagger through the door, clinking with two carrier bags of bottles. Spirits. Some are started, brought from my place; some I’ve bought special. “Cocktails,” is how I greet you. “Okay,” you agree. I lay out what we’ve got, from advocaat to Zinfandel, which I admit I only bought because I didn’t know a spirit beginning with z to fit that joke. It’ll go for sangria. You like sangria? I start mixing some up, handing you some oranges and apples to slice.

… I’m giving you The Look, which you generally kind of pretend-ignore to make me force whatever point I’m trying to make. You’ve not left the house in a couple of days and I’m promising ice cream if you do. I’m a little perturbed when you’re out of it enough to just go along with The Look, grabbing a midi dress and a summer hat. Your figure is slim, it having been a couple of days since that jogger by the canal.

Regardless, please take a moment to visualise this good-morning cuddle from me. Nothing fancy: Two arms wrapping around you, snug and warm, doing their best to grab each others’ elbows. Cheek snuggled in against the side of your jaw and shoulder presented for snuggling back if you like. Deep breath, signalling content and caring, which incidentally makes the hug tighter for a few moments. It goes on for as long as you like, wherever you like.