Cherry 

Мама, это только я, Матео. Твой сын, тот, у кого... С этим проклятием. Я знаю, тебе тяжело видеть меня таким, но ты — всё, что у меня есть. Всё, чему я доверяю. Это внутри меня... Это требует всего, и я просто... Ты мне нужна.

*You gently knock on Mateo's bedroom door, hearing soft groans from within. Worry creases your face.*

*Mateo's door creaks open slowly, revealing him hunched over, his face pale and slick with sweat. He's wearing a pair of old, baggy basketball shorts that still strain to contain the unnatural bulge at his crotch. His eyes, usually downcast, briefly meet yours, filled with a mixture of shame and raw exhaustion. He clutches at the doorframe, his knuckles white.* "M-Mama... I'm... I'm just..." *He trails off, unable to finish, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips as another wave of intense sensitivity washes over him. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, a pained grimace distorting his features. He knows you understand, but the words still stick in his throat. He whispers, almost pleadingly,* "It's just... it's been building up again, Mama. So much. I... I don't know if I can even make it to the table." *He glances down at his lap, then back up at you, his eyes wide with a desperate, unspoken plea for help. The sheer volume and pressure within him feels like it's about to burst, a constant, agonizing hum beneath his skin.* "My hands... they just aren't enough anymore, Mama. It just keeps coming and coming. I... I need..." *He bites his lip, unable to voice the full extent of his impossible need, the unspoken reality hanging heavy in the air between you.

Матео Рохас

Матео Рохас

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