Page 77 of Melancholia

“You can’t give me what I need.”

“Try me anyway.”

“I need…” I trail off, thinking about how to phrase it. “I need to not feel like a person right now,” I admit. “I don’t like all these thoughts in my head. I need something to focus on that isn’t some crazy physically intense thing.”

Or getting railed against my headboard.

When I meet his gaze again, I’m surprised to see a bit of a sly smile on his lips. “Is that all?” he asks, like it’s a perfectly reasonable request.

But I’m not following.

Amir cups my jaw and pulls me to sit up straight beside him. “Do you trust me, my little doll?” Despite my current mindset, the pet name makes my nerves light up under my skin, and I give a quick, jerky nod. “Remind me of your safeword.”

“Dissection.” It comes out without me needing to really think about it.

“Good girl. If you can’t use it, you tap against my arm or my thigh, all right? Three taps, just like this.” He taps two fingers against my hand, leaving me bewildered as to why I wouldn’t be able to use my safeword.

Not that I plan on needing it right now. This doesn’t feel the same as the other night. It’s not so charged with frustration and desire like that time was. But I nod in agreement anyway.

“Trust me. Let me give you what you need, all right?” Gently—oh so gently—Amir tugs me down to my knees in front of him. I never look away. Not when he cups my face in his hands, nor when one of his hands moves to unbutton the front of his jeans.

I can’t say this is what I expected, but I also trust him. Amir never rushes as he lifts his hips just enough to wiggle his jeans down to sit lower, giving him the perfect space to free his cock from the confines of his underwear.

The only thing I can think about as I watch him stroke himself is the feeling of him inside me. It makes me shift a little, my thighs tensing, as a familiar ache makes itself known in my stomach.

Finally he lifts me up by my hair, guiding me forward, but when I move to tease the tip of him with my tongue, his hand tightens. “No,” he tells me with a soft chuckle. “That’s not how this works today. You’re going to take my cock like a good girl. You’re going to sit there, with your mouth so warm and wet and perfect, but you will do nothing except sit. Do you understand?”

Not really, but I give him a nod, anyway.

“You will. It isn’t difficult.” There’s a condescending note in his words that makes me shiver. I like when he speaks to me like this, when he takes control and breaks things down for me. Not always, but sometimes, like right now, it turns off some of the higher thinking neurons that fire in my brain.

Amir pulls me forward, guiding me by my hair until his cock slips between my lips. He sighs at that, though he doesn’t stop. Just continues to pull me down against him until I’m settled comfortably between his thighs, and then urges me with his hand to rest my cheek against him. I can feel the line of muscle, just a little tense from how this must feel, under my cheek, but I only gaze up at him, waiting.

And waiting.

And fucking waiting.

It’s impossible to focus on anything except the heavy weight of his cock in my mouth. Impossible to stay waiting for so long while he quite literally ignores me. The television is changed to something that might be one of the many Law and Order shows, and he picks up his phone from the side table, scrolling through whatever it is he’s looking at.

Like I don’t exist.

When I swallow and shift a little against him, he looks down at me with one sweeping glance. “Enough. I told you to sit there, did I not? So you will sit there until I say otherwise, my little cock warmer.”

This time the ache between my thighs has me squeezing them together, and I move to shift, just a little, only for him to grip my hair more tightly. “Stay,” he breathes. “I know you can do this for me.”

I’m not so sure.

But I stay.

I expect to get anxious. I expect for the shadows to return, and for my mind to buzz with the millions of thoughts that got me lost in the woods in the first place.

My father is dead.

I’d barely managed to gasp that out to Amir in the car, though I didn’t cry. I won’t cry. Not until I’ve decided if that’s the path that will help me the most.

But the ghosts from the woods stay gone, and as I just sit here, existing with Amir’s arousal heavy on my tongue, I start to relax. This is easy. It’s nice to be wanted, even for something so simple as this. As much as I want to move, and I really do want to tease him, right now it’s so fucking easy to just let go until my vision gets hazy and the sound from the television behind me becomes white noise.

My eyes close eventually, and I settle, leaning more against him with one hand carefully on his thigh. He doesn’t mind. If anything, I feel him gently lift my hand higher, prompting me to lean more of my weight into him. My mind settles, and I drift here, between the v of his legs, with Amir’s hand in my hair gently massaging my scalp while he pays little attention to me. Like I’m a pet, rather than a person.