I’m not going to go into the details, but things were bad. Things had been bad for a long time, but now they were worse. Now they were unbearable. I couldn’t live inside that pain anymore, I needed to feel something from someone that wasn’t agony or sadness. I wanted someone to look at me and see something worth wanting. I wanted someone to lust after me. I wanted someone to find ecstasy in the musk of my sex. I wanted someone to need me deeper inside them, to pull me in with the primal strength of a needy thing in heat. I wanted someone to want me the way that I wanted them. I didn’t want a deep and abiding, but sexless, love. I wanted a desperate and heady, wanton and hedonistic love. I wanted to drink in the sweet stench of someone’s desperate need as I hilted into them, driving back against the hateful separation that kept us as two beings instead of one. I wanted to feel like I could crawl into someone, and I wanted to feel them wishing that I would. I wanted to feel the quiver of their love-slicked thighs around me, to lose myself in the tremulous moan of their climax.