To much thinking

I sit here in the quiet of a near empty house, the kittens tugging at my shirt in need of attention, Gabriel fast asleep. I sit in the quiet of this place and I think to myself all the things I don't allow myself to think during the day. Now, you ask, what is it you are thinking now? This moment is precarious - tempered by my own needs. And I think, you know ... he satisfies the body most willingly, readily, but there still isn't ... enough. I'm afraid I'll consume him with my needs if I'm not careful. He's gotten stronger, more aggressive. He presses against me without hesitation now and his teeth find the tender flesh of my neck eagerly. I think he's come to realize that, that little bit of pain is what I want. Lucky me my work shirt covers my neck or I'd be branded a slut. He's covered me in marks, faint and dark, big and small. I am his.

I am reading a novel he bought me - it was sweet of him, and even though he'll say he only picked it because of the wolf it was a good choice. Its a great book and I'm enjoying it - but at the same time it is brining to light thoughts I've long hidden. It often happens when I consider my own animalistic tendincies, I start to long for more.

I want a house with a big back yard - a place where I can lay in the grass skyclad in the moonlight and not fear. I want a lover that will ravage me when I need it and take the pain of my bite with pride not fear. I want children - soon but not too soon - because my womb feels empty and I long to give him a son. Right now ... I want him to come home so I can breathe him in and curl into his arms and lay there - comforted by the knowledge that he is there and he is mine. I paused today when describing him to Leah - it was suprising. I before had merely called him my fiancee, my bethrothed - and I realized now the difference in what he is and what I've called him.

He is not my promised. He is my reality. My mate.

But is that what he really wants. Does he realize what he's gotten himself into? I wonder. I worry.