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Reaching over, I grabbed my shirt and used it to wipe him clean. His head lolled on my shoulder, eyes drowsy as they blinked up at the ceiling, before he swallowed and shifted.
“W-wait, you don’t have to use your shirt for that.” His voice was hoarse and throaty.
“It needed washing anyway.” I swiped gently over the head of his cock, making him twitch with a moan, then dropped the shirt off the bed and tugged one of the blankets over us both. “Turn around, Greid.”
He shifted around until he could curl up between my legs, burrowing under the blanket and letting out a long sigh as he rested his cheek on my chest. I threaded my fingers through his hair, carefully untangling the long strands and rasping my blunt fingernails over his scalp.
After a few minutes, when I could feel that he’d stopped trembling, I kissed the top of his head and asked, “How was that?”
“The best.” He sounded half asleep. “Amazing. Thank you,” he whispered, so sincerely that my throat closed up.
“You were perfect,” I told him hoarsely, wanting to squeeze him to me, to get even closer.
He shivered from the praise, turning his cheek to press a reverent kiss to the centre of my chest. Then he yawned, trying to curl up into a tighter ball. “I’m falling asleep.”
“Hold on.” I stretched my arm out to the nightstand, then paused. “Which glass of water is fresh?”
I’d read about making sure subs rehydrated after playing, and Greid had certainly lost a lot of fluids.
“Um, the front one,” he said tiredly.
I managed to grab it and hand it to him, taking the glass back once he’d drained it. “Good boy. Now you can sleep, Greid.”
“Will you stay here?” he mumbled, and I knew he really was tired and sated when he didn’t follow it up with any nervous rambling about how I didn’t have to.
I smiled, resting my cheek on the top of his head. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Greid
“This is so good,” I mumbled around a mouthful of chicken stew.
I was cocooned in several blankets on the couch, still loose and boneless from earlier. Drowsy with the hum of total contentment, but wide awake after my nap with Beryl. I’d slept hard, dropping off quickly to the sound of her heartbeat under my ear, but thankfully not for too long, because Beryl hadn’t looked all that comfortable when I woke up. She’d been dozing with her head tipped awkwardly against the headboard, and when I moved off her with an apology, I’d seen her wince as she stretched.
I’d almost blurted out an offer to give her a massage. God, I couldn’t think of anything better than getting to have my hands all over Beryl’s soft body. But I’d been rendered speechless when she stretched her arms over her head with a yawn, and her small breasts had thrust out toward me. All I could think about was the taste of her skin, the feel of her stiff little nipples in my mouth. They were smaller than a demiurgus female’s—small and the nicest pink colour and perfect.
When my cock had twitched and started filling, I’d scrambled off the bed and grabbed my onesie to cover up. I wasn’t embarrassed about being naked in front of Beryl—that ship had sailed and was nothing but a tiny dot on the horizon—but I didn’t want her to think I was too greedy. Even though I was.
It had been the best sexual experience of my life. Like, hands down. Nothing came close to comparing. Which made me feel a little mean toward my past partners. Most of them hadn’t even known what I really wanted, so it wasn’t their fault I’d always been left feeling dishearteningly unsatisfied and almost a little depressed after having sex with them.
But what Beryl and I had done… I’d been nothing but a bundle of nerves, not having to think, not having to worry that I wasn’t pushing back enough, trying hard enough to get the upper hand, because Beryl didn’t want me to. She wanted me submissive and pliant and eager to follow orders.
Honestly, I’d almost cried after she finally let me come. It had been the most satisfying orgasm of my life, not just because she’d made me wait for it, but because she’d been in control of it. Of me. I’d been blissing out the entire time, despite the desperate unfulfilled need to come that had wracked my body. But that had made it so much better.
Beryl had cupped my face, given me a long kiss and told me she was going to get changed—or, at least, redressed in different clothes—before gently suggesting that I have a bath to unwind. I’d needed one anyway, my skin sticky with patches of dried cum despite Beryl using her shirt to clean me off. I’d grabbed it before she could, saying I’d throw it in with my washing later.
I almost fell back to sleep in the tub. I usually smoked while I was in the bath, but I’d already felt languid and relaxed, my mind still blissfully blank. After getting out and putting on some sweats, thick socks and my onesie, I’d wandered out of my room to find Beryl.
She’d been in the kitchen dishing up two big bowls of stew, which smelled amazing. My stomach had grumbled immediately, which had made her laugh as she jerked her chin toward my reheated coffee waiting for me on the counter.
We’d retreated into the living room with our dinner and curled up on the couch, spending about ten minutes trying to figure out what to watch before settling on a zombie movie. Beryl was tucked up into my side, and we were sharing the same blankets.
This was the freaking best.
Beryl peered over at my bowl as I shoved in another mouthful of stew. She chuckled. “You must be liking it, because you’re even eating all the vegetables in there.”
I grunted. “I’m liking vegetables more, I guess.”
