I love bottoming. When I put myself in a top’s hands, I’m deep and safe in my own skin. It’s what comes most naturally to me and it’s how I identify. Yet with the boy, topping feels most natural. Fucking him, power wells from the depths of my body, surging huge and strong and protective against my skin, and this is easy because it feels so good, but it’s also hard. It’s hard because I feel so exposed: every kiss, touch, or slap is a public test of whether I read my bottom’s desire and consent accurately. It’s hard because it’s outside my comfort zone.