Work Text:
Do I think
he knows my kink
For leather ties
and telling lies?
I saunter. Posture. Sprawl on beds.
Offer my head.
Sword at throat
I pause to gloat.
End on my knees,
an offer to please.
But fulfillment only comes in dreams.
Or jeans.
He thinks I have a kink for beer.
Doesn't know the one for fear.
I see him frown
so play the clown,
Pitching caps
into gaps.
I know I'm sick
when I become his sidekick.
But the touch of him
on my skin
Drives the fantasy -
thank god he can't see -
One day the Champion
will be my companion.
I have no compunction.
Kinks serve a function.
Keeping me sane
even though I complain.
Staying alive
to save his hide.
Even Dark
I know his mark
Is on me, in me,
like I want him to be.
Instead I wait in wondering
and dream of plundering
The immortal Scot
for whom I've got
Much more than a kink -
god, I need a drink.
August 2004
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