It's in the way you say you.

You're so rude sometimes. It's not exactly the nicest thing to call your beloved and some people get shocked when they hear it. Yet that low word spoken in a snarl still has the ability to make me squirm.

You.

Not me.

Not Angel or Sweetie or Lover or Darling.

Those names are full of fantasy, fluff and flowers. Anyone can say them and everyone has; they mean nothing in the long run. My name is never spoken in a soft voice or cooed and that's fine. It's another reason my love for you grows every time I hear you speak. It's the rage and the spark in that fighting word that makes us clash against each other, tangling and nipping with words and hands and teeth in the end. More satisfying. More real.

It's in the way you say you.

I don't think it's wrong; let everyone else think what they will. The world is full of false pretenses and cloyingly sickening sweet tones of lies and deception. Your guttural vocalization is much more satisfying. It's closer to the truth when you speak with that snap or hiss.