I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His hand settled on my knee, warm and dry and surprisingly heavy. He didn’t move it, just let it rest there, and I felt the heat of him through my sweatpants like a brand. We sat like that for a long moment, breathing in tandem, until my racing heart began to slow.
“Lie back,” he said softly.
I did, stretching out on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. I heard the rustle of fabric, the snap of a bottle cap, and then Tobias was leaning over me, his face inches from mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, “and I will. At any point. No matter what.”
“Okay…”
“Say it, Cove.”
“I… I know you’ll stop if I tell you to.”
He nodded, satisfied, and then his hands were at my waistband, pulling at my pants. I lifted my hips to let him slide them down, then my underwear, leaving me exposed to the cool air of the room and his gaze.
I felt self-conscious suddenly, aware of every imperfection—the hip dips I hated, the freckle directly to the right of my cock, the small bush of hair that I hadn’t been able to groom since before my captivity. But Tobias didn’t seem to see any of it. Or maybe he did, but didn’t see them as imperfections.
After all, he was looking at me like I was indeed something precious, something he’d waited his whole life to study.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, and the words were so simple, so sincere, that I felt my throat tighten. “Perfect.”
He started with his hands. Just touch, learning the shape of me—my hips, my thighs, the sensitive skin of my inner knees. He was methodical, taking note of my reactions, finding out what made me gasp or flinch or go still. When his fingers brushed the crease of my thigh, I sucked in a breath, and he paused, waiting.
“You don’t have to stop,” I whispered, face flaming. It was humiliating how needy I’d already grown, just from his caresses alone.
His hand moved higher, suddenly cupping my length, and I was already half-hard from anticipation, from the sheer intensity of his attention.
“Oh!” I gasped, a small gush of precum beading at my tip.
He stroked me slowly, then fast, with a softer touch, then a harder one, watching my face like he was memorizing every expression.
Within a minute I was squirming against the bed, panting. I hadn’t been touched since I’d been in Australia, and even then, my last hookup hadn’t been a fraction of whatever this was.
“You’re already so wet,” Tobias observed, rubbing his thumb over my crown.
“I—I—”
“Do you normally leak like this?”
I shook my head, my bottom lip caught between my teeth.
“This is just for me?” he asked lowly, dipping his thumbnail into my slit and making me buck at the sensation.
“Y-yes,” I gasped out.
He smiled at that, clearly pleased. “Good. I think I’d have to kill anyone who’d seen this.”
I whined as he squeezed my cock with one hand and used the other to reach across the comforter for the vibrator.
“Let’s see if you like this,” he hummed, letting me go for a second to apply a layer of lube to the toy.
My thighs tensed as I waited for him to press the vibrator to my cock, but Tobias only watched, poised to calibrate the experiment to whatever reaction I gave him.
There was a brief pause—a soft, apologetic brush of his knuckles over my thigh, as if he wanted to offer comfort before any transgression—and then the machine hummed to life, a muted but insistent whirr in the morning silence.
He tapped it against the inside of my knee first, as if to better acclimate me to the new sensation. I twitched, more ticklish than aroused, and he slowly traced a line up the meat of my thigh.
