She leaned over him as he was sitting on the couch, engrossed in a book he couldn’t put down.
“Hey!” he said, not looking up.
She leaned in closer, aiming to fill his field of vision over the top of the pages.
“One sec, I’m almost done with this chapter.”
She reached down, slowly, and placed two fingers under his chin.
“I…” he started.
Her fingers lifted his gaze up; she could feel his jawline going slack already.
——
They both loved the way hypnotic kisses felt, but he’d been far too eager. Even with so many reminders of things only happening when they were “safe and appropriate” she’d still feel him swoon to a little peck on the way out the door in the morning, and that was wasn’t doing anyone any good. Mostly.
She loved that level of control and responsiveness; it was one of his best qualities (along with making a mean pesto). But she didn’t need him zoning out before his commute every morning.
So she hatched a plan, and set to the work of molding his mind to fit. He’d need to save that response for later, she whispered to his subconscious. Let it build up.
She’d chosen one particular color. It was a shade she only wore now and then; deep red, bold and unmistakeable. She spent time helping his brain learn that when her lips were that color, that was when all that desire to drop, to let go and melt to her kisses would all be released.
His brain (as it always did) happily accepted the idea. It was just a matter of knowing when to put it to use.
——
She leaned in, close, and she saw his eyes grow somehow more intense and also more distant. She loved that.
“What happens next?” she asked, knowing full well his subconscious had already made sure he knew. Watching him wordlessly process that, his body and mind somehow diverging and moving in concert at the same time, filled her with another rush.
As he started to open his mouth to a, she pressed her lips to his. That feeling—the one where he tried to kiss back but just went soft and limp instead—would never get old, but this was something altogether different. The response was so instant, so effortless.
She reached gently behind his neck to guide his head, now lolling gently, back onto the cushion.
“That’s right…” she intoned in The Voice, taking in the close up view of a conscious mind being well and truly relegated to the background, lost somewhere in a deep red haze.
Another kiss, leaving a mark right in the middle of his forehead, and he let out a sigh that gave her a silent chuckle.
“You’re so good at taking instructions,” she whispered.
——
As he came to some time later, disheveled and confused, she took in the scene as she counted up. She’d long since made herself more comfortable, leaving him in a heap on the couch to float and dream of her kisses (and what he could do to earn them).
She could see he’d taken the suggestion to heart about letting his conscious mind forget what it didn’t need to remember. He was clearly unsure of how he ended up longwise and barely clothed on the couch where he’d been reading a few seconds before.
“How ya doin’ there?” she half-laughed, half-asked, just for the joy of seeing his little mind try and make any sense of the scene.
As he came back more fully, his words made it obvious he knew what he needed to know, and that was just fine with him.
She listened closely as he made his way to the bathroom down the hall, waiting for the moment.
“Ummm… honey, why am I…” he said, as he looked in the mirror.
“Never mind that,” she said back, pleased with herself at the evidence of that deep red haze she’d left on his face and neck as a little surprise.
“Of course, dear,” he said reflexively, as he always did when she used the trigger to remind his conscious mind to not ask silly questions.
