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I thought I mentioned that I love this. It is too cool.
DK

Terence's head sculpted the twitching flourescent bulb into the most magical of moonlight beams, but it had to happen to anyone who felt like he felt.

Actually, the pain was so three months ago, but the visions...THOSE were up-to-the-millisecond. All the partners; all the evenings swaddled in red light like a dying animal enveloped in high-thread-count scarlet sheets, exchanging secrets and darkness and fluids and anxieties; all the times he engaged in philosophical dialogue in his own head even as his body ground away during endless evenings of paid duty. The whole beautiful mess rolled into one compact space--like a pin-sized chunk of the sun concentrated into a dense ball that outweighed ten Earths.

The guilt words do-si-doed in his mind around the bodies he'd known congress with: Fortunately, nurture only squeezed a tiny amount of shame from him, so Terence would close his eyes and he'd revisit every single night with every single delicious human trifle, as though he prepared for salacious memoirs he'd never live to write.

The machines that gave breath and took it away gave and took at regular thrumming intervals. Shame withered as decisively as Terence's flesh shell. All that was left was his spirit, and that'd be enough. No one could take it until he was damn well ready to let it go.

And he knew that fighting the urge to close his eyes was so three months ago, too.

I really need to start updating more on this site ... anybody out there?

I'm not easily impressed. . . but that's ipmresisng me! :)

MpkCXF That's way the bsetset answer so far!

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