Scrolling for spirals to make herself feel better, Madam reached for her tumbler of scotch and tipped back another swig. Nothing was really satisfying, and she felt more depressed and empty than was healthy to feel. She didn’t want to go through the whole bottle, and she hated having flashbacks this bad, it happened every year during this month - her month. Memories of when it was good with someone who wasn’t around anymore, haunting her, teasing her, and it made it hard to be with the good partner she had now.
Said partner was asleep in the other room. She’d nursed him and then once he was asleep, she took her tit from his mouth and he rolled over, and his mind was swaddled in his own REM cycle instead of her arms. She lay in bed trying to let herself fall asleep too, but she was horny and agitated and restless and everything felt cranky. Her good life, was comfortable and happy on the surface, but she felt cranky. Dissatisfied.
Ever since she got that diagnosis that explained so much of her life, but also just made her paranoid of when this good partner would leave like all the others. She hoped never but her therapist said that was not only irrational but unfair to ask of anyone. Forever love was a myth, her doctor said. And the sting of realism deflated any hope she had at happiness because it diffused a long-held belief, a belief that was a core belief and influenced and wrapped itself around every element of her life.
And now she was without it. And was trying to start over from scratch at find something new to define her life by. Reaching for another sip of the scotch. It was now too much burn to offer her any comfort, so she slid the glass away and was about to open a new tab to look for some music, when the sound of the floorboards creaked near the door and she startled, turning to see him.
Standing at his six foot four height, his pajama bottoms worn low, showing the indentations on his hips down to his groin, making a v shape groove, he called it his love slide, but she’d looked up the term once and learned it was called an Adonis Belt. It was very prominent on his body, and the happy trail of hair from his navel down to his groin kind of made it look like a giant arrow to an amusement park ride.
He was frowning at the glare of the computer screen and the dim lights of the room from the fluorescent stars all over the walls and ceiling. Idle and chaotic light, no indication of any constellation pattern, at least none in this galaxy, maybe they existed somewhere else beyond the reach of Humanity’s development of science.
“Philip, what are you doing awake?”
“You’re not in bed,” he said, his voice half in Little space, and half the groggy bass note of the forty-six-year-old man he was. “Why?” he asked.
She looked up at his disheveled hair, and his dark eyes - his eyes were black, like a kind of void or vortex, his hair was brown and loosely curly. His long lashes were trying to stick to each other as he reached up to rub the gunk away from them so he could see better.
“I couldn’t fall asleep. I didn’t want to wake you by being on my phone, so I came in here trying to find something to help me sleep.”
Philip exhaled a sort of huff. “Didn’t want to cuddle me? I thought that helped?”
“Most nights it does but tonight I just … “ she shook her head and looked away.
Philip tilted his head at the sadness she was trying to shield from him and moved closer, til he was standing right next to her chair. He placed a hand on her head and ran his hand through her dark hair, and she leaned into the touch of his hand and then turned so that his very large hand slid down to her cheek. And she looked up at him, still frowning at being half asleep, but there was worry there.
“You wake me when you get like this, don’t leave me in ignorant bliss like that when you’re suffering. You hear me?”
Her eyes went wide at the tone of his voice. “I …” she started to protest, but his thumb pressed against her lower lip. And he tilted her head up more - trying to reinforce and give more emphasis to the eye contact in the moment.
“You. Wake. Me. When. You. Get. Like. This. Do you understand? I need your word.”
“Yes,” she said.
And her eyes closed and her jaw went tight as her face kind of crumbled with emotions. Then she shook silently with tears, as he caressed her face and her hair. She pulled him closer and hugged his waist, her arms wrapped around his hips. He went real still, and let her cry into his pajama pants, and slowly, he watched her calm her crying and realize how close she was to his dick.
Her hand slid up his thigh and grazed the side of his dick against the thin fabric, he sucked in a breath. And she looked up at him as he was looking down at her. “May I have some warm milk before bed, maybe it will help me sleep?”
He exhaled slowly but he nodded, “You may.”
She rolled the hem of his pants down and he widened his stance so that the pants wouldn’t fall to the floor, and once his dick was out, she angled it into her mouth and heard him hiss at the contact of her mouth.
Philip’s head tipped back and he made a pouty moan, he was very much a kinky Little, but he could be a Big too. And right now, he felt like he was oscillating between both states.
It was how they met - at an Ageplayer’s HypnoKink Munch in their city - and why they were so good together. He felt his body responding to her quickly and her tongue swirling around his girth as she started to pucker her lips and suck so hard that his hand flailed to brace himself by holding the back of the chair.
“Mmm .... “ he attempted to say her name, but the pleasure just moaned over it and he curled his toes against the carpet under his feet.
She missed this. Needed this. She knew he loved to suck on her tits before bed, but tonight, it seemed she was the one that needed to suck something before bed, so she sucked to savor him but also, hungrily, She didn’t realize how rough and hard she was sucking til she felt her clit perk hard and she had to rub it, she had to rub herself as she had him in her mouth.
Philip’s senses went sharp as the scent and sound of his lover’s pussy hit the air. He looked down at her, and he saw her hand between her legs - mostly her elbow moving in that way that stirred her scent into the air as she sucked him his eyes went to look at the spiral on the screen, and he made a long moan noise that she knew too well - it was a sound he made right before he dropped. She had trained that sound into him, as part of their scene work for public kink spaces. And it just stuck, even when they were in private.
The spirals! She forgot about the spirals. But he tasted too good to stop. And she needed to cum, she needed to release. Yes. Release… Release … Release. She kept chanting the word over and over, her memories flashing his tranced face in her mind, flashing it over and over like a glitch image, and her hand worked her clit so hard, she was sucking him harder and harder and he bucked forward, into her mouth and sighed a slow exhale as he came a large load down her throat, and she felt the splat on her tongue and her body jerked from her orgasm ripping through her body - the orgasm nearly ruined from her self-control of trying to not bite hard near the base of his dick.
He was into pain-play but they hadn't checked in on any type of physical pain concerning his dick, and she didn’t want to possibly cross a line or a limit So short-circuiting her orgasm a tiny bit was the price of her consideration. And the sleepy post-orgasm bliss she felt fogging her mind said it was worth it, and that she’d be able to sleep now.
Philip slid free of her mouth and tucked himself back into his pants and she looked up at him feeling sleepy. She yawned, her mind felt floaty in Littlespace.
“C’mon Melinde, let’s go to bed,” he said, and bent to pick her up, and carry her to bed, got her all tucked in. Then he crawled into bed after her, feeling his mind drop to be Little, from the act of crawling across the bedspread - it was a dark blue like the ocean with embroidered shapes on it like starfish, as well as other sea creatures with glow-in-the-dark embroidery thread.
Slipping under the blankets and making sure she was under them as well, Philip spooned her and felt her half roll to look over at him. He made a chirrupy groan that let her know he was in Little mode and was sleepy, she made the same sound back - and drifted to sleep, she made the same back and they dropped together, drifting in a dream space, away from the despair or diagnosis declaring damage. Only dreams, daze, and the reliable interdependence of dancing with distraction. And with Life being as impermanent as it is, maybe it was the next best thing to the Ever Mythic Forever Love.
