Can we see "Call me sir when were alone like this" with Aenon?
Ask and you shall recieve, dear!
It’s late in the day when you finally manage to get back to your chambers. Aenon is already there, resting in the saltwater pool installed not long after the others discovered your relationship. It had been a nice surprise, coming into your room to find the previously empty space filled with a deep hole, so Aenon could stay at your side without leaving.
Aenon startles, throwing sparkling dots of water into the air as they move, when you throw yourself onto your shared bed with a loud groan. And… there’s the neverneding ache. Astha had been rough with training that day. You bury your face into the sheets.
“Are you alright?” You feel more than hear Aenon approach the bed. They settle beside you, resting a hand on your back. “Was it a rough day?”
Aenon makes a noise in understanding. You both know the dragonborn well, and her methods. She’s a fair, but harsh, teacher.
“Would you like a massage?” The questions sings like the angels above have answered your plea for help.
“Yeah!” You bolt upright, barely wincing before you throw yourself even more onto the bed, wriggling to straighten yourself out. “Ready!”
Aenon stands up briefly, enough to get on the bed and straddle your hips, hands splayed across your back. Within moments they are pressing and kneading the muscles of your back. At first it hurts, making you tense up, but soon it begins to feel good. You go lax, letting out a pleasured purr.
Aenon laughs lowly. If that doesn’t send a bolt of heat south…
You nod, rather helplessly. They always manage to turn you into a puddle with the least bit of effort. Maybe it’s just their superpower. Maybe you’re just a lovesick sap for your lover.
“Do you want to do something a little more…. strenuous?” Aenon asks. Again, you nod. There’s a shift in the air, from relaxing and playful, to almost… dangerous.
They stop massaging your back, instead, bending low to arch over you, pressing their hands into the mattress, pinning you in place. Their tendrils fall in a curtain around your faces. “Remember, call me ser when we’re alone like this.”
A delicious shiver goes down your spine. That tone is a promise for pain if you’ve ever heard one. You hear it often.
And you love it every. single. time.