I entered quietly. My feet whispering softly over the tiled floor. He didn’t rouse, my poor man. Exhaustion pulled at him, this was painfully clear.
Shredded jeans molded around his strength, but couldn’t contain his latent need, or his failure to feed it. With an arm draped over his eyes, and his fingers wrapped around his cock, he reclined in an exhausted fugue. Too tired to continue. To desperate to stop. His fingers clenched and tugged, both determined and spent.
I quieted my steps, needing to ease his pain. But that is not what he needed. Slowly, I lowered to my knees, and I crawled.
Hunger gnawing at my insides.
A sigh escaped him, and his hand fell from his shaft. Desperation failing to overcome his bone weary manner.
But, he didn’t know I approached.
With stealth, I made my way toward him, inch by painful inch, until I crouched at his feet, and bowed before his magnificence. His breath pulsed in and out, a slow resonance before the embrace of sleep.
This I would not allow. He was mine. Mine to love. Mine to serve. Mine to bow before.
I raised up, my fingers finding the rips over his knees as if they had a mind of their own. My whisper light touch roused him, and he peeked at me beneath hooded lids.
“Babe…” His voice covered me in a blanket of wanton desire, a warmth which pulsed in my heart and warmed my core. “I’m so fucking beat.” He leaned forward, slowly, preparing to rise.
“Master,” I begged. “I beg you, allow me to serve you.”
His haggard smile crooked up. “I don’t have the energy for play, babe.”
A quick shake of my head stopped him. “I don’t need to play.” It wasn’t a lie. I suppressed my needs, grateful and willing. So, very willing.
I couldn’t touch him further without his permission, but I stretched out my fingers, and hovered over the half-lowered zipper of his fly.
“May I please?”
He gave a half-hearted wave. “You may try, my pet, but don’t be disappointed in me.”
The zipper rasped in the silence hanging between us, his eyes locked to mine, desire and fatigue warring for dominance. I persisted, refusing to fail in my task and freed his cock from the confines of the jeans.
Half-erect, he hardened beneath my touch, and I stroked him softly with my fingers, bringing forward his heat until his cock stood proud and weeping…for me.
His nod urged me forward.
Raising up on my knees, I kissed his crown, reverent and at peace within my role.
This was us.
This was me.
This was me serving him.
His sharp intake of breath, spurred me on to take him in fully, which I did, settling into the rhythm of this thing which was Him and me.