wrath of the lamb

My boyfriend is so gentle. Kind, loving, nurturing, steady. He’s mild tempered all the time, which is why my biggest fantasy is unraveling him bit by bit. Inch by inch. Thread by thread. I imagine him coming home after a long, arduous day at work and seeing me and going wild. Letting his anger bubble to the surface and spill over into me. I imagine him pushing me against the wall, lifting my leg, and making me scream. I want it all. I want every angry inch. I want pounding, ramming rage as he unleashes himself finally after all that time being so cool and collected. I want to see his monster and I want to love it. I want to see it and acknowledge it. I want our emotions to mesh into one messy, sweaty pile of dirty sheets and excess. And after allowing ourselves to sip from the cup of lustful rage, I want to lay there under the red lights and gaze at each other lovingly. I want to be seen and I want him to be seen. Sex is a beautiful art: the most vulnerable act a couple can do together. I want to love so deeply and be loved so wholly. Rage, love, sex, and beauty.