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It takes me a long time to fall asleep, my mind running through scenarios, all of me tensed for an alarm to go off or my phone to buzz with a notification from security. But what wakes me up instead is Gianna, sitting bolt upright in the middle of the night, shaking and crying in huge, gulping sobs that sound as if she can barely breathe.
It only takes a second for me to wake up fully, too. I reach for her, gently running my hand over her back as I reach for her hand with my other, murmuring softly to her. “Gianna, it’s alright. You’re having a nightmare. Nothing’s wrong. I’m here—you’re safe. Nothing’s happened.” I keep repeating it over and over as she tries to breathe, her hand clenching mine in a death grip as she finally looks at me, wide-eyed.
“I had another nightmare,” she whispers brokenly. “Like—like the one I had the first night you stayed with me for a little while, but this time—” She shakes her head, tears still sliding down her cheeks. “This time, it was you I found. He broke in, and he gotyou—”
“No. I’m here.” I reach for her, pulling her into my arms and against my chest, laying back against the pillows. “I’m right here, Gianna, and I’m fine. I promise. It was just a nightmare.”
She nods, swallowing hard, and after a long moment, she turns towards me, nestling her head beneath my chin. Her breathing slows, evening out, and at first, I think she’s fallen asleep again on my chest. But then she tilts her head up, nuzzling at my jaw for a moment before her hand presses against my cheek, turning my mouth towards hers. She kisses me softly, her lips grazing over mine, and I return it—until her tongue slides against my lower lip, her body arching against mine with a soft moan, and I know she’s seeking a different kind of comfort.
“No, Gianna.” I gently pull away from the kiss, not dislodging her, but moving so that she’s lying on my chest again. “I don’t want to do this while you’re so upset. You need to rest, not—”
Gianna looks up at me, that soft, sweet pout on her face. “I want a distraction,” she says softly. “Something good to make me fall back to sleep.” Her hand slides down my bare chest, down to my boxers, her fingers nimbly slipping into the gap there before I can stop her. My cock is soft, nestled against my thigh, and she gently strokes her fingers against it.
“I don’t think I can get in the mood right now,” I tell her gently. I don’t want her to be disappointed, or think that I don’t desire her. But the nightmare has me worried, unsettled, wanting to comfort her—not fuck her. “I’ll hold you for as long as you like. But I don’t know that I’m going to get hard, Gianna. Not when you’re so upset.”
“Can I just play with it?” Her fingers are still toying with my cock, and even though I’m not getting aroused, it still feels good—soothing, almost. I can tell she wants the same thing, something to occupy her hands and mouth, to comfort herself with—and she wants it to be me.
“Alright,” I relent. I’m well aware of what she wants to do, well aware of how it fits into our dynamic, and it doesn’t surprise me that she wants it. It surprises me even less when she moves down my body, pillowing her head on my thigh as she slips my cock free and begins to tease her tongue along the length of it, her lips brushing over the head as she gently takes it into her mouth, sucking and playing with the soft flesh.
I feel myself twitch and thicken a little in her mouth, the soft warmth impossible not to react to. She’s not trying to get me off, and I’m not trying to come, but the feeling of being just held in her mouth is a good one—something I’ve never experienced before. I reach down, stroking my hand over her hair, running my fingers through it as she adjusts so that almost all of my cock is in her mouth, resting against her tongue as she lightly sucks on it. She makes a soft, satisfied humming sound as she does, keeping my cock warm as she lays there, and the minutes tick by. I get half-hard, teased by the occasional movement of her tongue against me and the sucking motion of her lips, but it’s not going to get me off—and I don’t mind. It’s a sort of comforting pleasure I’ve never had with anyone, and the fact thatshefinds this—and me—so comforting as well makes me happy in a way that I wouldn’t have expected.
I’ve always been dominant in bed, but not the type that likes causing pain. I’ve never liked hurting my partners—even a spanking, as much as it arouses me, only turns me on when the submissive is thoroughly aroused by it, the way Gianna is. I find the idea of punishment arousing, but only when my partner does, too. The dynamic that Gianna and I have is perfect—I like controlling my partner’s pleasure, their arousal, giving commands, and having them obeyed and rewarded. I like comforting and caring for a partner—ensuring that they eat and exercise and take care of themselves as well. Aservice-dominant, I’ve seen it referred to, but I don’t particularly care what it’s called. It’s what I enjoy—and by some miracle, I’ve ended up married to a woman who wants that just as much.
I realize, when her mouth finally loosens around my cock, that she’s fallen asleep on my thigh. Gently, I dislodge myself from her mouth, my half-hard length resting against my thigh as I maneuver her back to where she was sleeping before, tucking the covers around her before slipping my cock back into my boxers and curling up behind her. The idea of getting myself off while she sleeps doesn’t even occur to me—there will be plenty of time for that when she’s feeling better. For now, all I want is to hold her.
In the morning, I wake to her between my thighs, her mouth on my cock again. I’m rock-hard now, throbbing against her tongue as she teases it over me, but I shake my head, reaching for her as I tug her up to lie next to me again.
“You didn’t need to do that this morning,” I tell her gently, and Gianna frowns.
“That’s the rule,” she says, and I shake my head again.
“Of all the mornings, you could have used the safeword today. Last night—”
“Was last night,” she said firmly. “And I wanted to wake my husband up the way we agreed. Although—” She gives me a small, mischievous smile. “If you’re wanting to make me feel better—”
Her hand closes around my cock, stroking lightly. “You haven’t been inside of me since the morning after the first time,” Gianna whispers softly. “If you were worried about me, I’m fine. I’m not sore at all. And I very, very much want you. If you—” She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing. “If that’s how you want to come this morning, sir.”
A white-hot bolt of lust streaks down my spine at that, and I roll her onto her back in one smooth motion, tugging my boxers down as she reaches for the waist of her pajama pants. I strip off her tank top, eager for her bare skin, and it’s only the desire to be gentle with her that slows me down when I have her naked underneath me. I start to slide down her body, but Gianna shakes her head.
“Not right now, Alessio.Please,” she whispers. “I want you inside of me.”
Protocol aside, I want the same thing. And something tells me that she needs this more than she needs me to insist on the sorts of rules that we have in place for our dynamic. She doesn’t need a dominant right now—she needs her husband.
When I nudge my cock against her entrance, I find that she’s already soaking wet. She lets out a soft, breathless moan as I slip inside of her—more easily this time, her legs locking around my hips as she pulls me deeper. “More,” she whispers, gasping it against my mouth, her hand pressing against the back of my neck as she pulls me in for a kiss.
It’s sweet and slow, each thrust a long, hot slide of bliss as deeply inside of her as I can go, feeling her clench around me with each movement of my hips against her. She tightens her legs around my hips, rocking against me, her moan swallowed up by my mouth when she comes on my cock, rippling and fluttering around my length until I think I can’t bear it any longer.
I want to come inside of her so badly. I want to stay buried in her, throbbing, spilling, filling her up with my cum until she can taste it. It feels impossible to pull out, but somehow I do, sliding out of her just in time. I don’t even manage to grab my cock before I start to come, that last squeeze of her pussy around my cockhead sending me over the edge, the first spurts spilling out onto the sheets before I manage to wrap my hand around myself and stroke the remainder of my orgasm onto her soft inner thigh. She moans softly as I come on her skin, her eyes wide and pleading, and I know what she wants—and I can’t wait until I can give it to her.
At that moment, I want all over again to tell her that I love her. I’ve nearly said it every day since that first night, the words hovering on my lips, but I’m afraid that it’s too soon. I’m afraid that it won’t be the right time, that I’m not certainenough, that I need to wait.
It doesn’t occur to me that there’s a possibility that I might wait too long.
Gianna
By the next day, some of my fear has receded, but I can tell that Alessio is still tense. I wake up before him in the morning—like I have most mornings—and slip under the sheets, tracing kisses up his thighs and all the way to his half-hard cock, teasing it with my lips and tongue. It’s soothing to me, a routine that I love, but this morning, when the sensation finally stirs him awake, he reaches for me instead.
“Come here,” Alessio says softly, and for a moment, I think he’s going to pull me atop him, but instead, he moves me so that I’m curled up against his chest. “I’d rather lay here with you a little longer instead,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my hair, and I don’t argue. As much as I want him, I can feel that he needs this instead, and I find it sweet. I can tell he wants me close, but it’s not about arousal. He wants comfort from me, too, and it makes me feel good to be able to give him that.
