Present
In a kitchen apron, I hum under my breath while I prepare Clint and myself dinner. Tonight’s special, the one day that I’ve been waiting for. It seems like an eternity ago Clint, my Alpha, mate and Master of my heart, gave me that choice.
Twenty-four months is too long a time to wait, but it’s not time ill-spent. He’s taught me so much over that time, showed me my submission isn’t something to be terrified of.
Clint’s bound me, used implements on me, but he never once broke his rule. He’s never taken me, and I can’t wait any longer. When I woke up this morning in his arms, he murmured to my ear that its time.
All day, I’m full of tension, hardly able to focus on work, so I took time off to prep us dinner. The door opens when I’m about done, setting the table so it will look beautiful. Hard to believe this apartment we share is ours.
The old me would never be able to see this far ahead, the present me living together with a wonderful man, a powerful Alpha able to give him everything he ever wished for.
“Good evening, boy. Give me a kiss,” Clint instructs the moment he walks in.
Happily, I walk to him and give him a quick peck on the cheek. He takes it further, gripping my chin, tilting my head back so I’m all but helpless to receive his kiss. Once he releases me, I moan into his mouth. Clint rubs his body against mine, letting me feel the ridge of his erection pressing against his jeans.
Yummy.
How often did I imagine Clint’s fat cock, pushing its way into my opening? Far too many times and I can’t wait for the entire evening to unfold.
Master’s in good mood and I like him like this. Sometimes pack business takes too much of him and he comes home too tired. All I can do is help him relax, but with the rule of no sex until I’m twenty one comes up so I can only give him head, to hold him when he needs a hug.
“What’s my boy cooking up this evening? Smells fucking amazing, but not as good as you,” Clint says, pulling me into his arms. I happily breathe in his familiar scent and his hand found my own hard-on and gives it a squeeze. “Why are you dressed?”
“Because I’ve been cooking us dinner?” I ask, teasing, knowing what he wants. He gives me a severe look, but I know he wants to punish me. Heck, I live for his punishments. Clint hooks a finger against the black collar on my neck and that one motion forces a needy moan out of me.
“Strip, boy.”
I eagerly dispense of my clothing, knowing Clint’s watching me all this while. Clint licks his lips and seeing that look in his eyes makes all this effort worthwhile.
“Very nice,” Clint says, trailing one finger down my pectoral. I groan when he gives my left nipple a tug, before his fingers trail down my flat stomach and gives my bare cock a squeeze. “Let’s eat. What do we have here?”
I groan when he walks away to study the dining table. I know his game though. “Salad with walnuts, and pot roast served with carrots and potatoes.”
“My favorite,” he finishes, looking at me like I’m tasty. It’s not just food he’s talking about. That one look sends a jolt right to my nipples and makes my cock twitch.
“Lovely boy,” he states and that melts me into a puddle.
I blush. Even two years later, I still can’t get used to his compliments. I pull out a chair for Clint, waiting for his permission, but I worry for nothing. Clint pats his lap, and I happily sit. He bands one arm around my waist, making sure I won’t fell. Reaching for the cloth napkin on the table, he spreads it across my lap. Its maddening, the way my bare skin touches the rough denim of his jeans.
Amazing...but Clint’s even more amazing.
Taking a forkful of salad, Clint feeds me bits. We share the same fork. Eating takes longer than usual, but I savor every sweet moment with my Alpha, the Master of my body, heart and soul. The pot roast comes next. This one’s a little harder. I help Clint cut the pieces with a fork and knife. We take turns feeding each other, not caring how sappy we’re being.
“Baby, it tastes fucking good,” Clint says. “Thank you for preparing dinner.”
“Better than me?” I tease.
We’ve done this banter before, but neither of us are sick of it or of each other. Not long ago, when I first met Clint, I told myself I could learn to love this man. I continue to love him a little bit more, with each passing day.
Now, I can’t imagine a life without Clint. He’s welcomed me into his arms, his home, and his pack. Our pack. I meet my brothers on a weekly basis, am still close with them, but Clint’s my family now, my everything.
“Hmm,” Clint pretends to muse. Pretend, because we both know the truth. Of course I’m always on his mind the way he’s on mine. “I haven’t made my verdict. Let’s move on to the first dessert.”
I’m second dessert. Grinning, I scoot off his lap and bring in the mango cream pie from the kitchen. It’s his favorite, mine too. Clint licks at his lips—at the pie and the naked me holding it, the hunger in his eyes fully sparked.
“I have a better idea. Hold the pie, boy. Stay here.”
I wait, dying of curiosity when Clint takes his time. I can hear him moving around in our bedroom, preparing something. Excitement hums in my veins. I can’t wait to see what new evil plan he’s concocting.
“You may come in now, pet,” he calls. “Bring dessert. I intend to have it now.”
“Do you mean me or the mango pie, Master?” I can’t help but ask.
“Both.”
He’s grinning when I enter and my gaze lands on the bed. Our favorite pair of leather cuffs dangle on the top and bottom rails of the frame. I shiver, seeing the implements he’s laid out on top of the dresser. I name them silently in my head—plug, lube, our favorite low intensity flogger and strap.
“Master?” I ask, suspecting what’s intending to do.
“Hand me the plate, pet and lie on the bed. Assume position,” he instructs. When I hand him the dessert plate, he steals a kiss from my lips.
“No fair, Master. I want to kiss you too.” The bratty response earns me the smack on my ass I want. Nonetheless, I jump at the impact.
“Get on the bed, pet. If you behave, you’ll be rewarded. If you don’t, well, you know the answer to that.” Clint leaves the sentence hanging, his meaning clear.
Climbing on the bed, I spread my body and offer my wrists out. Clint places the plate down and takes my wrists. Before securing the cuffs on them, he places a kiss on both of my inner wrists. I shiver at the press and warmth of his amazing mouth, the way the slightly sharp edges of his canines graze my skin.
“Master!”
“Patience, love.”
Love. I adore when he uses that nick name. Clint moves on to my ankles, buckling them shut, but not tight enough to cut circulation. He’s always careful with me, always communicating and asking me questions.
Clint takes a moment to study his handiwork—me, spread eagle and stretched out for his access. Blood surges right to my dick. I’m this close to bursting, but I hold it back for both our sakes, not wanting to spoil the evening.
“Remind me the rules, pet.”
I groan, but I know it’s for my good. Clint never starts a scene without me reminding me. “Remember to safe word if necessary, and never come without your permission.”
“Good job, pet. Although,” Clint muses out loud, eying my prick, curving and full.
“I’ll hold it back, Master.”
Chuckling, Clint retrieves the plate. “You better, pet. Or else I’m going to suspect you’re begging to be punished.”
We both I love kneeling for his punishments and how he relishes delivering them. Pain and pleasure, bondage and love, ties our souls as much as our wolves.
Clint swipes the cream of the pie, fingers coming away with a wad of sweetness. Crawling into bed, he straddles me, lathering the cool and sticky stuff all over my nipples. Clint wears a look of intense concentration on his face, like an artist considering where to place his paints.
Knowing Master is going to let me taste the kiss of the leather and paddle, perhaps even feel the swats of his hand, I shudder. I love looking at the marks he’s left behind after our night of passion.
Peeling off strips of mango, Clint makes a path from my neck to hip. He sits on the side, finishing off his work with more cream on my dick. I groan, unsure if I can take the suspense, if I can last this torment.
“Look at you, baby. So fine, so splendid.”
Clint lowers his mouth to the first mango, chewing it, licking at the thin film of juice the fruit leaves behind on my skin. Every muscle in my body tenses. My balls feel incredibly full, ready to empty out, but I endure the press of his hot mouth against my sweat-slicked skin, the occasional edge of his teeth. Reaching the mango draped over my left nipple, Clint takes the fruit along with my bud, sucking hard.
A moan reverberates from my throat, the sound needy and keening.
It’s only a matter of time before pleas spill from my mouth.
“Master, please.”
Clint bites down, making me cry out. I beg him again despite knowing he’ll refuse, he’ll keep pushing me to the edge, which is exactly what I need.
“Not yet boy. I’m far from done,” Clint chides, moving to my right nipple, dragging the mango there and slipping it into his mouth. He leaves a bite there too, and both his red teeth marks around my nipples look stunning. “Fucking hell, how did I get so lucky?”
“I’m the lucky one here, Master,” I correct, but soon lose my ability to hold onto logic.
Master finishes off the last of the fruit down my ribs and belly in quick succession, as if he can’t wait to eat the cream off my dick. I try closing my thighs, but it’s a futile attempt. Clint’s between my thighs now, gives my cock a flick and once more, I nearly lose it.
“Pretty cock.”
Clint licks away both the whipped cream and the pre-cum on my wet tip. It occurs to me its odd, seeing him go down on me. Wrong somehow, because I’m the Sub, but I’m not going to argue. His mouth feels amazing on my shaft. Heavenly.
“I love you, Master.” I’ve put off saying those three little words for fear he won’t return them.
Answering me with a kiss on my inner left thigh, Clint returns them. “I love you too, Nicky.”
Warm suffuses me, travels past my skin and settles deep into my bones. My heart’s pounding, but then, it’s always done that whenever Clint touches me. Continuing where he left off, Clint licks the cream off my length, nuzzling my balls. His tongue moves lower and he pries my ass cheeks open. I freeze, feeling his breath against my puckered entrance.
Cheeks and neck coloring, I clear my throat, trying for reason despite knowing it’s useless. “Master, not there.”
“No?” Clint lifts his head, lifting his eye brows.
A growl tickles out of him, a rumbling sound that sends shivers down my spine, but I know he’ll never hurt me, not in a million years. Clint’s control over his emotions and his beast is the best I know. He’ll kill himself before harming me.
“Remember who’s the Master here, boy.”
“You,” I answer simply. “I’m yours, always been.”
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Mine, so don’t interrupt me again, unless you want more stripes across that sweet ass of yours.”
“Yes, Sir.”