Mavi
It’s been forty-eight hours of bliss, but our schedules have stopped lining up. Late-night shoots for both of us, early calls, overlapping chaos. I came over this morning because I need something different. I needed to feel him close before the day pulled us apart again. The craving for Sai has only grown exponentially, and now it’s blossomed into something deeper. I need to claim him, not in an all-out way but in something quietenough to see the mark, something that will sit against his skin all day and remind him who he belongs to.
Fuck, some part of me even wants his claim on my neck, showing my subscribers and my exes and everyone else who thinks I’ll never get mated that someone wants me enough.
Refusing to hang back any longer, I knock on his door. Sai opens it already half-dressed. He tried on his own this time and got as far as pants and an undershirt before the shirt selection locked him up again. He looks sheepish but I just walk past him with a quick kiss to his jaw and go straight to the closet.
Today, I didn’t come empty-handed.
I’m carrying a tie, one of my own. It’s soft fabric in a color I like, something that will sit beautifully against his silk shirts. More importantly, it smells like me. It’s been draped over my furniture and my dresser for days. The honey-citrus scent is deeply embedded in the weave.
I pick Sai’s shirt quickly, without hovering over options. Sai takes it without hesitation and starts buttoning it. His hands move steadier now that the choice has been made for him.
Then I hold up the tie. “Wear this today, Alpha.”
Recognition flickers across his face. This isn’t his. This is mine. Something that came from my space, that carries my scent, that will hang against his chest all day. His expression does the thing I’m learning to read as joy, not a big smile, because Sai doesn’t do big expressions, but a softening around his eyes, a loosening in his jaw, the faintest beginning of a smile.
He takes the tie and puts it on, standing in front of the mirror as he touches the fabric, running it between his fingers, before pressing it briefly to his nose. He isn’t checking the knot or the length. He’s feeling me on him.
I come up behind him, sliding my palms up his chest and smoothing the silk over his shoulders. My fingers trace the line of the tie where it rests against his chest as Sai’s breath catches.He leans back into me just slightly, letting me support his weight.
My hands keep moving. I caress his chest through the shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath the fabric. I slide one hand up to his neck and trace the edge of the fabric, then down again, fingertips gliding over his stomach. Sai’s eyes stay fixed on our reflection. His body relaxes under my touch, the tension from the morning melting away as I map him with slow, purposeful strokes.
I love this. I love the way he lets me touch him like this, like I’m the only thing that exists in his world right now. My fingers drift lower, brushing over the front of his pants, feeling the growing hardness there. Sai exhales shakily but doesn’t move away. He presses back against me instead, a silent invitation for more.
“You feel so good,” I murmur against his shoulder, lips brushing the fabric. “So steady when I touch you.”
Sai’s hand comes up and covers mine where it rests on his chest. He doesn’t guide me. He simply holds on, grounding himself in the contact. I keep caressing him, slow sweeps of my palms over his torso, feeling every breath he takes and every small shiver that runs through him. My other hand slides around to his back, tracing the line of his spine through the silk. He leans into every touch like a man starved for it.
In the mirror I watch us. I’m smaller behind him, but my hands move with ownership. Sai’s eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted. My tie rests against his chest like a claim. The honey-citrus scent rises faintly from the fabric every time he breathes, mixing with his sandalwood until the air around us feels thick and intimate.
I press a kiss to the back of his neck, then another to the side, letting my lips linger. Sai tilts his head to give me better access. My hands never stop moving. I caress his sides, his stomach, andthe firm planes of his chest. I slide one palm lower again and cup him through his pants, his cock thickening even more. A low sound escapes his throat as I smile against his skin.
“So responsive,” I whisper. “Even in the morning. Even when you have to go to work. You still want me this much.”
Sai nods, breath unsteady. “Always.”
Eventually I step back just enough to turn him around. I look up at him, Sai looking at me with that expression that is half gratitude and half something deeper we haven’t named yet. I pull him into a sweet, lingering kiss. Sai holds on for dear life, arms wrapping around me as if the world might pull us apart any second. In this moment everything in his head seems to make sense.
When we finally part I straighten his shirt collar one last time and smooth the fabric across his shoulders. “Now, you don’t have to choose,” I say softly. “I’ll bring you something every morning. You just put on what I give you.”
Sai’s eyes soften further. He nods, pressing one last kiss to my forehead before he has to leave.
“Go,” I tell him. “Text me when you get there.”
He goes. I already know the reply I’ll send when he does.
Good boy.
I text him later that day because I can’t stop thinking about how he looked in my tie.
“How’s my tie doing?”
His reply comes faster than I expect. It’s a photo, just the tie, the top of his collar, and a narrow strip of his throat. No face. But the angle is unmistakably Sai’s photographer eye. Beautiful. Intimate. A love letter disguised as a snapshot. The silk catches the light perfectly, the knot sits exactly right, and the faint shadow where the collar meets skin makes my stomach tightens with want.
On set one of the models leans over during a break and grins. “You finally got a boyfriend? You smell like expensive Alpha.”
Another laughs. “What, Mr. Camboy got an Alpha? That Alpha is going to shut down your business!”
