"Maybe..." I licked my lips, careful not to move otherwise. "Maybe regular furniture that serves double purposes. Kitchen counters at the perfect height. Couches with hidden restraint points."
"Interesting." He made a note. "What else?"
"I thought about cooking for you." The admission surprised me. "I used to cook, before. When things mattered. Haven't in years, but I remembered I was good at it."
"You want to cook for me?"
"Want to take care of you sometimes." Staying still was getting easier, his attention anchoring me. "Want to give back some of what you give me."
"Come here."
I moved immediately but carefully, maintaining grace. He guided me back to his lap, and the reward of touch made me melt.
"That earned more than five minutes," he murmured. "Sharing something personal. Expressing desire to care for me. Staying perfectly still while you did it."
"How long do I get?"
"Until you need more." He adjusted me against his chest. "This isn't about arbitrary time limits. It's about teaching you to appreciate touch when it comes. To survive without it when necessary. To trust it will return."
"What if I'm never good enough? What if I can't learn?"
"You're already learning." His hand traced my spine, making me shiver. "Already showing restraint. Already trusting the process even when it hurts."
"It does hurt."
"I know, baby. But you're handling it beautifully."
We sat in silence for awhile, his hands moving over me with deliberate care. Each touch felt magnified, precious because I'd earned it. Because I'd been good even when desperate.
"Tell me about the mountain house," I said eventually. "What's it really like?"
"Remote." His voice rumbled through his chest. "Closest neighbor is miles away. Two stories of wood and stone, built into the hillside. huge windows overlooking the valley."
"Sounds lonely."
"Sounds perfect." He pressed a kiss to my hair. "Just us and whatever we decide to build. No observation. No protocols except the ones we choose."
"Will you still..." I trailed off, suddenly shy.
"Still what?"
"Structure things? Have rules and rewards? Make me..." Another pause, gathering courage. "Make me earn your approval?"
"Do you want that?"
"Yes." No hesitation. "I like having goals. Boundaries. Knowing exactly what pleases you and working to achieve it."
"Then yes. We'll have structure." His arms tightened. "Different from here. More flexible. But you'll always know what's expected."
"And if I'm good?"
"Then you'll be rewarded." His hand found my throat, thumb brushing over my collar. "With touch. With praise. With orgasms that make you forget your own name."
I shivered, pressing closer. "Is that what happens next? Now that I've been still and honest?"
"What do you think you've earned?"
"Touch. This. Being held." I considered carefully. "Maybe more if I keep being good?"
