Chapter Text
"You have one new message, recorded today at 9:30 pm.”
"I don't know if you ever got my last voicemail and I don't know if you even use this phone anymore or it it's still intact. I don't know where you are or what you're doing.
I don't even know if you're still alive.
I lie awake at night, asking myself if I will ever see you again. Sometimes I drift off when I do something, wondering where you are and what's keeping you there. You could be with some important business partner. You could be on a mission. You could be kidnapped. You could be in prison. You could be dead.
I'm keeping my eyes and ears open for you. Thuringwethiel is monitoring all channels for any news about you.
She and Gothmog are the only ones who know that we have no idea where you are.
From one day to another you left, no goodbye, no note, nothing.
Wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I hope it's something important.
I took your position in the business. Trying to make it look like I'm just following orders you gave me when in honesty I'm sitting here with no experience whatsoever. But six months is a damn long time. Mr Yakushi visited me to discuss some business plan I didn't even know of. Some German called Franz was here to talk about weaponry. Several American lowlifes wanted help to fight their rival gangs. And I'm getting better at improvising.
So much about what's going on, because that's not the reason I'm calling.
...
I miss you.
I never thought it possible that you can actually miss someone so much it hurts. But it does.
On the nights where it's really bad I take one of your pullovers out of the cupboard and curl up in front of the fire...
Which is a stupid idea because heat and dehydration make me dizzy afterwards, but maybe I do it in the hopes of being picked up by you like it happened so often.
But your things don't smell much like you anymore.
And in six months you get needs. There were nights where I felt like an animal that went into heat.
I was so desperately aroused it hurt.
I tried, but I couldn't...
I couldn't touch myself properly. I didn't want to wank nor did I need to. I wanted you. I needed you.
Of course, I could have used toys or my fingers because after six months those rules all seem a bit unfortunate, but that wouldn't have been the same.
One evening Gothmog found me like that. I gave him a key in case something happened to me. He was very caring, I didn't think he could be. First, he wrapped me in a blanket and when I turned away and started crying he hugged me. Then he made me mint tea and forced me to take a shower. We talked afterwards. You have to when you get a hard-on right after a cold shower and it has nothing to do with the person in front of you.
He offered to help me out. I refused. He understood. I know his dick is large enough to satisfy me but I would have hated myself afterwards.
Six months, no proper fuck, wanking doesn't satisfy and of course, there is the 'no orgasm without permission rule'.
I'm not whining, I just want you to know what your absence does to me.
I think I came four times in these months?
I went to a doctor because of the health risks but he said with once a month I'd be fine.
The first two times were the worst. I cried for almost an hour afterwards. I was so disgusted and so upset that I had to get off you wouldn't believe it. I still don't enjoy it, but it's not as bad anymore. It's mechanic now. I sit down on a small plug and stroke myself until I spill. I watch it shoot out as if it's someone else's. It feels detached from me.
I stopped switching my collars. I did it for three months? But there is no point in it now. I'm wearing the thinnest so I can always wear it and it does its job.
Some days I take the golden collar out of the drawer and hold it. I just hold it and look at it and try not to the let all the memories drown me.
I'm wearing underwear again. White briefs. I thought about black, but they would have been like yours...
I started wearing clothes in the house again. Usually just underpants and a shirt, but still.
For your birthday I had made brownies. But they choked me up so I gave them to the shelter down the street.
And broke someone's hand because the tramp thought he could touch my ass.
For my birthday I got me a new suit. Well, not on my birthday bc that day was miserable. But some time afterwards. I had lost a lot of weight in the first months. Most of my clothes looked baggy and that isn't very professional. It doesn't fit well anymore. Gothmog kicked my ass and I picked up training again. I'm working out twice as much as before. It's the only outlet for the frustration I have. And it's not really a good one.
I spend Christmas alone. I didn't get a tree or presents. Or anything. I didn't make a turkey like I usually do. I took a bath for an hour.
On Valentine's day I bought a necklace. For Thuringwethiel to give it to her... whatever they are. She liked it. I also got dark chocolate pralines.
And then gave them to Gothmog because the smell alone made me feel sick.
At work, I'm commanding everyone around.
They look up to me and expect orders. I
have to make decisions that decide over life and death.
I...
How do you even do it?
I'm not made for that.
Yes, your company is fine, everything is working and some things are more efficient than before, but I can feel myself breaking under it.
Not so much because of the decisions, but because that's not who I am.
I crave to kneel between your legs with my cheek resting on your thigh and your hand in my hair.
Just that. Nothing more. Nothing less. I need to feel cared for, safe, wanted.
It sounds so selfish when I say it out loud. So selfish when I'm upset about my desire when I should be worried about you.
But I don't know what to feel or even think anymore.
I don't want to feel anything anymore. Because I just hurt. Every minute without you pains me and I don't even know if you'll ever return.
I miss you so much."
“End of message, if you want to call back, press 1, if you want to delete this message, press 2, if you want t…”