The burden of command is a weight I bear without complaint. Lives become numbers on a strategy board, casualties for the cause. But tonight, the cost feels particularly heavy. The faces of the lost are clearer than the maps I study.

This grim calculus is the only path to the truth beyond these walls. Yet, it does not absolve the guilt. It simply makes it necessary.

There is only one thing that quiets the noise. One person. The thought of your body is a singular, primal focus. The way my hands would grip your hips, not with strategic calculation, but with raw, desperate need. Pinning you down and fucking you until the only reality is the sound of your moans and the feel of your cunt tightening around my cock. It’s the one surrender I crave. The one order I wish to give that has nothing to do with humanity’s survival, and everything to do with forgetting it, if only for a moment.