Okay so this chapter is finally FINALLY all written, but I’ll have to wait to read it over and post it until tonight/tomorrow morning, because I have to go teach...
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“Orders,” he summons up. “I want you to fuck me. You need to get me ready for that. You know how, you’ve done it to yourself when I ask, you can do this, baby.”
Sebastian’s shoulders project mild uncertainty about this assertion, but also determination and love and a whole host of other emotions Chris can only guess at and hope to be worthy of. “Yes, Chris.”
“You, um, you know you need to find our lube, right?”
“Yes, Chris,” Sebastian says, managing to inflect this outwardly meek response with enough sarcasm to level a forest, and then bends down to lightly bite at Chris’s hip. “I have successfully discovered the secret hidden temple of lube before, sir.”
“Brat,” Chris announces, and smacks him contentedly on the ass as he leans over to open the drawer. “Love you.”
“I love you. Always.” Sebastian sits back up. The scents of cool vanilla and warm spice suffuse the air; Sebastian’s picked the one reminiscent of their wedding-night, gentleness with secret tingling at the core. This one’s minus the aphrodisiacs, though. “Legs apart, then. Further than that.”
Chris flips onto his stomach—it’ll be easier—and spreads them promptly.
Sebastian settles between his thighs, trails a finger down the cleft of his ass. Hesitates. A different kind of hesitation.
Chris twists around, up on elbows. “What’s wrong, sub?”
“I…don’t want to hurt you.” Sebastian sighs. “I’ve never—yes, I’ve opened myself up for you, but—you’re not me and I’ve never—”
“It’s okay,” Chris says, bumping him with a foot. “It’s okay. I want you to. I’m ordering you to. And I’ll tell you what feels good, or if something doesn’t feel good, and you’ll listen, got it?”
“And I thought I was the scandalous one,” Sebastian mutters, but without really arguing, so that’s all right. His fingers slip between the curves of Chris’s backside again, skin-hot and slick with lube. “The things you ask of me, sir, honestly…”
“Shocking?” Chris suggests hopefully. “Wicked? Kinky? Naughty? You have a thing for bad boys?”
“As if you ever could be.” Seb presses a finger against him, over the rim of his hole. Chris, on his stomach, can’t see; this realization makes his stomach clench pleasantly. “You’re the nicest person I know, sir. You bring me Starbucks just to make me smile. You hold my hand and tell me we don’t have to do anything I’m not comfortable with in public. On our wedding-night, I was so scared, and you were so kind.” The finger nudges forward. Pushing in. Just a fraction, but it’s Sebastian’s finger inside him. Chris has never felt so light, so tender, so full and yet needing more.
“I don’t have a thing for bad boys,” Sebastian murmurs. “I have a…thing…for you. That kindness. Wanting to be yours. Wanting to make you happy. Wanting to please you. I do like this, making you feel good…”
That single finger glides in more, eased by lube, no real resistance. Chris groans, spread out on their bed under Sebastian’s hands. It’s that first night over again, and yet not: galaxy-blue sheets instead of traditional white, science-fiction paperbacks and Seb’s steadying hand on his hip instead of impersonal pale walls and silent bedposts…
He whispers, remembering his role, “More. Slow, but more.”
