Love Junkie: Sub

"But I went looking for it," Cory said. "I wanted to feel out of control."

The first time Cory bottomed for Marcus, he didn't just feel subspace. He felt relief .

He went home with Derrick. Derrick didn't ask about limits. He didn't show him the rope. He just pushed Cory onto his stomach, held him down by the back of the neck, and took what he wanted. love junkie sub

Cory cried. Not pretty tears—ugly, heaving sobs that shook his whole body. Marcus held him through it, palm flat on his sternum, grounding him like a living weight.

Not the bad kind. The kind where the ceiling of his thoughts fell away and he was just a body in a room. No past. No future. No desperate clawing for attention. Just the sound of leather on skin and Marcus's voice counting strokes. "But I went looking for it," Cory said

But Marcus was still holding his hands. And for the first time in years, Cory didn't feel the itch.

"I don't know how to want things in a small way," Cory whispered. "Every feeling has to be an emergency. Every crush has to be a crisis. I don't know how to just… be held. I only know how to burn." He went home with Derrick

"That's the shame leaving," Marcus said quietly. "Let it out." For three months, Cory was sober. Not from substances—from the hunt . He deleted the apps. He stopped scrolling thirst traps at 2 a.m. He went to Marcus's house every Tuesday and Thursday, knelt on that foam pad, and let someone else decide when he was allowed to feel wanted.