And maybe, one day, he’ll realize it doesn’t matter what our labels are for each other: arrangement, friend, boyfriend,husband, his life is also better with me in it. We’re so muchbetter together than we are apart, and the life he thought ended years ago isn’t the only future he can have.
Call me a hopeless romantic, but I really do think we can be happy. I’ve believed it since the start. It might sound crazy, but I think there’s a reason we ended up in Vegas together that weekend, that we went to that chapel and no one else was there.
John pulls into his driveway, and I look over to him, unsure where we go from here. We haven’t said a word to each other this entire drive, and it seems like he plans to keep it that way as he turns off the car and walks up his rotting porch steps to unlock his front door.
“Hey, John,” I call out as I get out behind him, following until I catch up with him in the kitchen. “Thank you for telling me all that. I know it isn’t easy for you to talk about.”
He says nothing in response, just grunts.
I hate seeing him so upset. Especially when—even if it was unintentional—I’m the one who triggered this response in him. He’s trying to act like he’s fine, but I know he’s still tense about the motorcycle and what he just shared with me.
All I want is to make him feel better. I need to get him out of his head, and what better way to do that for him than to hand him control? To remind him that I’m here, and that I’m not going anywhere. I’m very much alive and happy to be with him in whatever capacity he’s ready for. I’m also turned on by him being so concerned about me. Maybe I can help him feel more balanced by taking his frustration out on me.
John’s standing in front of the fridge, so I close the distance between us, and slide my hands over his waist.
“I need you to understand I’m here because I want to be,” I start, and he turns in my arms to snap his eyes at me. “And right now, I don’t want to think about anything. Just want to feel you.”
I nudge my knee between his thighs, wanting him to react. My hand moves from his waist up to his chest, rubbing circleswith my thumbs around his nipples through his shirt, feeling them harden beneath my touch.
“I want you to remind me that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, Sir.”
John’s pupils flare slightly at my words and a hint of a smile is on his lips as his hands finally come up to settle on my hips. Bingo. That’s what I want to see. He already looks happier.
“What exactly do you want, Chad?”
“You,” I answer simply.
His fingers twitch on my hips as he hums, biting his lip. He’s hesitating, likely still overthinking and in his head. I don’t want that. “I want you to decide everything tonight,” I say, my voice trembling just a little with nerves even though I know he wants this too. “I want you to tell me exactly what to do with my mouth, my hands, my body. No part of me wants to think. Let me follow your orders and feel you inside of me until I can’t think about anything else.”
John doesn’t say anything, but the air around us changes, replaced by the heavy, magnetic pull of his dominance. His grip on my hips tightens, fingers digging in hard enough that I know I’ll feel it tomorrow, but I love it. Love being marked by him.
“Mmm, you want to be my sub tonight, Princess?” he taunts, and the ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth as he says it makes me so fucking happy.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then get on your knees,” John commands, and I gulp, falling to the kitchen floor. My hands rest on my thighs as I look up at him, waiting for his next instruction. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and fuck, those words send a shiver down my spine. His hand comes up to my jaw, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Open.”
I part my lips, and he slides his thumb inside, pressing down on my tongue. I close my mouth around it and suck gently, maintaining eye contact with him. His other hand moves to unbuttonhis pants, and my saliva starts pooling in my mouth, knowing I’m only seconds away from seeing his piercings.
“You’re going to take my cock in that pretty mouth of yours,” he says, pulling his thumb free with a wet pop. “And you’re not going to use your hands unless I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I respond automatically, surrendering fully to his request. I love it, not only because I do enjoy this dynamic and how freeing it is, but tonight especially, I love knowing I’m giving him what he needs, that I’m helping him feel settled after a tough day.
I’ll do almost anything he asks because I’m his, no matter what he wants to call me.
John unzips his jeans, pushing them down with his underwear just enough to free his cock. He’s hard and thick; his Prince Albert piercing is shining with a dab of precum waiting for me to lick it clean. I lean forward instinctively, but his hand shoots out to grab my hair, gripping tight and holding me in place.
“Did I say you could move?”
“No, Sir.” I probably sound a little happier than I’m meant to in this situation, but I can’t help it. I just love this so much.
“Color?”
“Green, very green.”
“Good, now open wide,” John instructs, and I do. “Don’t move.”
John guides himself to my eager mouth, rubbing the head of his cock against my lips, smearing precum across them. The taste of him only turns me on more, and I moan as I lick as much of it as I can without disobeying his instructions.
