BRIAN’S POV

Next, you make a point of just enjoying him. You scoot up and away from him and invite him to sit with you—well—on you--straddling you with his head on your shoulder. “You’re so hard,” he whispers into the hollow of your shoulder blade, “You want me.”

What he says is true but you’re having the a difficult time deciding how; your mind flashes on taking him fast and hard and then on making love to him until he just falls asleep underneath you, his head still shuffling to and fro on the pillow with every thrust. Somehow Justin being drunk makes you feel safer, too—safer to say things you want to tell him but often don’t—and safer somehow just to listen to what he’s really saying because wine makes him a little more honest, a lot more talkative, and more prone to change the subject….

“Tell me,” he says, again with his head still buried against you, “What those guys said about me.”

“What guys?”

“At Release,” and then he kisses your neck, “You said they like me.”

You find this intriguing, “They do. They don’t get many slaves like you, I suppose.”

He laughs against you, “I’m special.”

“You’re a ‘pill.’ I think that was the word they used.”

“Yeah, a ‘pill’ that they want to swallow.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh a little, “Well…now that you mention it…I don’t think they’ll be doing the swallowing if we decide to go back.”

He sits up and looks at you, his arms resting on your shoulders, “What?”

“Well…,” you roll your tongue around inside your mouth while you try to decide the best way to tell him this news, “Here’s the thing: if we go back…and we’re certainly under no obligation to do so…but if we do, I agreed to a couple different…punishments…for you…for that stunt you pulled last time.”

He pulls back a little, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What sort of punishments?”

“Can’t tell you that.” You watch him very closely, intrigued by the battle going on inside him; he’s trying to look offended…but…he’s sort of…blushing.

“You don’t have the right to do that,” he tries.

“Oh, I most certainly do.”

He starts looking down at his lap, so your eyes follow his, only to find his cock straining to get your attention. When he looks back up at you, his pupils are very dilated. You don’t expect his next move--to lean forward and lie against you again. You fasten your hands around his back and just breathe with him…in…and out…in…and out, letting him digest this information at his own pace.

……

“But I’m a good boy,” he finally whispers out of some erotic desperation.

“You are…most of the time…that afternoon just wasn’t your finest hour.”

His voice is a slippery almost-whine, “You agree that I should be punished when you already punished me?”

“Their dungeon; their rules. What you and I do has no bearing on that. We signed a social contract that day; we have to fulfill it if we want to participate.”

Your bedroom becomes very quiet save the heat breathing warmth into the room; Justin becomes quiet as well, but not still. He kisses your neck, your jaw line and then lingers around your lips, his hips grinding softly against you. You decide to play with this a little, to wait for him to really make a move, to enjoy the tentative nature of his affection.

He kisses you..finally…but it’s sweet and kind of dry and perfunctory, the kind of kiss that’s usually reserved for moments when you part company. And then it happens again—soft, sweet and dry—only you detect the faintest moan leaking out from somewhere inside him.

He touches your chest like he’s reading Braille, his fingers circling and rising and falling, and when it starts to tickle, you gently stop his hand and just hold it still against your heart. His hips continue to rock. “Tell me what you need,” you say quietly, almost under your breath, “Just tell me.”

……

……

“I need to make you happy,” he says.

“You do.”

“I mean, like right now. I need to make you happy with me.”

You pause before responding, “Well, this thing you’re doing with your hips; I like it. I was thinking maybe you do it but with me inside you…and with you…facing the other way.”

“You don’t want to look at my face?” he pouts.

“Oh, I do, and I plan to. I’d just kind of like to watch your ass work for a few minutes.”

He leans in and kisses you before deftly turning around on his knees. “This is for you,” he says over his shoulder, so you smile and reach for the last of the lube in the warmer; you stroke yourself with one hand and grasp his hip with the other. You like to feel his fingers splay out on your legs as you slide into him, feel his grip tighten the deeper you go. “I’m in no pain,” he offers as if indicating that it’s okay for you to pick up the pace a little. You watch your hand run up his back and into his hair, your fingers winding into the soft blond strands. Slowly, his hips begin to move; your body crashes back into the pillows as you watch yourself appear and disappear into his bottom, over and over again.

“Happy?” he asks on a down thrust.

“This makes me want to spank you,” you admit.

“I won’t stop you. My ass is completely drunk. It won’t remember anything tomorrow.”

“C’mere,” you say, “Turn around and come here.”

He dismounts and with a few deft moves, you’re on top of him, and he’s smiling as you twirl his hair in your fingers. “What?” he asks. “What’s that look on your face mean?”

“This is supposed to be a night of pleasure for you. I shouldn’t be making you work,” you admit.

“I didn’t mind at all…but if you want to make mad passionate love to me while I just lay here…I’m not going to stop you.”

“Maybe I want you to.”

“Like last night?”

“Yeah,” you concede with an oddly hopeful feeling inside you.

Justin kisses you and then gives you a dose of hard truth, “I have no problem with that except that I’m really drunk right now. I don’t think I can put up much of a fight.”

You smile, “True…and tonight’s your night to relax. Forget I said anything.”

“Again, I’m drunk, so that’s no problem.” And then he takes your hand out of his hair and directs it down to his collar. “Take me, he whispers.

So you do.