PrettyLittle GoodBoy
Summary: After Rami’s GQ Middle East covershoot, his girlfriend needs him to know just whose good boy he really is.
A/N: I hope it’s not too vanilla—if you’ve read my stuff, even my smut, you know I’m a soft bitch. So, this is me trying out that (soft)dom life.
Warnings: Forgive me, creator, for I have sinned (NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Sub!Rami)
After trekking through at least two football fields worth of dust and bramble, you and Rami popped out on location near the infamous HOLLYWOOD sign for his GQ Middle East covershoot. As you shook a piece of twig off your sneaker’s lace, a small crew of people rushed over to greet your boyfriend, including a fashionably-dressed man with reddish-blonde hair. As the man pulled his sunglasses from his face, he looked every bit like the hackneyed Hollywood producer, except his light blue eyes held nothing but a desperate plea.
Whatever he was about to ask, he was afraid Rami would say no.
“Listen, Rami—we decided that this location just isn’t good enough for you. Not for what we want to convey with this shoot. We want to take you to Jim’s place in Palm Springs. We know it’s a lot to ask—”
“Anything for you guys, Steve. I’m just grateful for the opportunity.”
With a firm handshake, Steve’s apprehension disappeared and he shouted to everyone to head out. He sent Rami the address for the new location and the two of you hiked back to the Audi.
Inwardly, you rolled your eyes at the producer’s hesitance to request something of Rami; clearly, he didn’t really know him.
“You should’ve said no—played the role of a diva,” you voiced.
Rami snickered. “Did you see how nervous he was? It’s not like they were asking me to strip naked and slide down the hillside on my ass or something.”
“They have no idea what a compliant guy you are,” you said as you waited with your hand on the door of Rami’s car. He pressed unlock and you opened the door and slid in, tugging on the front of the soft, white t-shirt you stole from him to fan yourself.
As soon as the car started, Rami fiddled with the AC.
“Makes me wonder how many people are total dicks. I mean, there is a paycheck attached to this kinda shit.”
You reached over and gave Rami’s thigh a squeeze, and he shot you a grin.
“Maybe I should become an asshole? Demand a dressing room lined with silk drapes? A snack of chips and guac with a ratio of 3 red chips to 1 white?”
You laughed. “Shut up. You would never do something so . . . Hollywood.”
Rami leaned over and pursed his lips, waiting for you to close the gap and kiss him. You did, and both of you smiled against the other’s lips before you pressed yours into his one more time, then settled back into your seat.
“Let’s go-ooo,” Rami sang, putting the car in drive.
* * * * *
Steve had made a good call; even though they were rapidly losing daylight, every space at the Palm Springs location seemed to mold itself around Rami as if it finally felt like it was being properly occupied.
And Rami was, of course, an absolute dream.
Which he was, of course, told again and again.
All the while, Rami had no idea what it was doing to you to watch him like that, to watch him eat up that praise, to watch him be such a good boy for the entire crew all afternoon and into the evening.
With every complied command, you thought about what you wanted to do to him, how you wanted him to please you.
“Rami—Rami look this way. Yes! Hold your smile. Fucking divine,” the photographer uttered as she snapped.
At the word divine, Rami chuckled nervously, ready to counter the utterance but the photographer kept going.
“Can we get Marissa over here? Just to touch up the sweat. Its hotter than the devil’s dick out here and you haven’t complained once, Rami. I love you!”
At the words I love you, Rami’s cheeks colored and his face spread into a shy grin, this time his lips not even bothering with a protest.
“Let me just fix this curl . . . perfection!”
At the word perfection, he lowered his eyes and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, successfully halting the widening of his shy grin.
“Yes, Rami. What an absolute joy you are. One more big grin—like the one I saw you give your girlfriend this morning—yes! That one!”
It was like that all day—praise after praise, and by the time the shoot was over and he climbed behind the wheel of his car, his body was invisibly vibrating from the high of being such a good boy all day long; you weren’t sure you had enough restraint to make it back to the twins’ house, the car refusing you the gift of distance so you were left with nothing to do but listen to his excited chatter, inhale the fresh scent of the high-end styling products and the brand new clothes, and glance over at the way the last outfit of the shoot clung to his body, custom made, just for Rami Malek.
* * * * *
Rami tossed his car keys on the kitchen island, something you would normally scold him for considering there was a mounted keyrack directly beside the door, but you were so focused on the way his ass looked in his black trousers that you forgot. Besides, you had an important question to ask.
“Is Sami home?”
“In DC with Jas, remember?”
“Oh. Right,” you answered in a soft tone as you flicked on the recessed lighting in the kitchen.
Rami pulled a beer out of the fridge, twisting the top off and tossing it on the counter, the lid skidding to a halt right next to his keys.
“Want anything?” he asked after a long drink.
You shook your head no.
Rami frowned as he realized how quiet you had been since the end of the shoot. “I’m sorry today ran long. We can do whatever you want tonight.”
As you toed out of your sneakers, you also bent to retrieve the shoes he had kicked off the second he walked in the door. As you walked both pairs into the mudroom, you knew your silence would make Rami guess at your mood. Were you upset with him? Why? His eyes slid to the keys on the counter, and he picked them up and took them over to the keyrack. Then, he plucked the beer cap off the counter and tossed it in the trash.
Rami leaned against the counter, twirling his beer which had begun to shed drops of sweat, and watched as you reentered the kitchen.
“I’m really grateful you spent your day off—"
“Go . . . sit . . . down,” you slowly and evenly enunciated as you held his gaze before dropping it to walk over to the big couch in the living room, the one that sat against a wall of windows that overlooked a section of woods and the many twinkling lights of the other homes in the Hills.
He abandoned the last dregs of his beer to follow you, and you could feel his mind working to puzzle out what he’d done to displease you.
You turned around and gestured to the middle cushion, and just as compliantly as he had been during the photoshoot, he took a seat and waited, his big eyes staring at you. You let him watch as your gaze drifted over his body. He was still in the last outfit from the photoshoot and you didn’t even want to know how much money he was currently wearing. The black Tom Fords fit him to perfection and the tan and black, tiger-striped dress shirt made his skin look smooth, dark, and ten years younger. The dim lighting that crept over from the kitchen dyed his hair to a pitch black of perfectly ringleted curls.
He looked so good your mouth went dry, and when you thought again about what a good boy he had been, your eyes slipped shut in a moment of greedy indulgence.
Rami’s eyes remained fixed on you, alert, despite his tiredness from the all-day shoot and the extended drive. He continued to watch cautiously as you slid onto his lap, his hands twitching once, twice, before deciding it was okay to touch you. He ran his hands up your bare thighs, toying with sliding them underneath the frayed edges of your denim shorts before grinning and moving them to your hips.
Your face remained stoic, fixated on how much you wanted to control him—to make sure he knew just whose pretty boy he was.
“You loved today, didn’t you?” you purred in a low voice that made all the blood in Rami’s body rush to his cock.
He licked his lips and swallowed audibly in anticipation; there was a flicker of recognition dawning behind his eyes, but he still hadn’t puzzled it all out . . . yet.
You pressed on, your voice still a sultry purr, “You loved being posed. Being praised. Being primped and petted. Didn’t you?”
His eyes dilated, now more grey than blue, as he watched your mouth move. That flicker of recognition blossomed into understanding, and he stilled, frozen and silent.
You fisted his curls, the oil the stylist had used feeling like a breath of wet silk as his hair twined around your fingers. You pulled, tugging so hard he gasped.
“Answer me when I ask you a question,” you bit out, your purr replaced with a forceful tone.
“Yes—yes I loved it,” he immediately whispered.
Your eyes roamed his face as the pulse of attraction beat between the two of you, and with your hand still gripping his curls, you kissed him, brutally sucking and nipping at his lips. Rami’s hands were still on your hips and his fingers flexed, digging into the flesh of your jean-clad ass.
You pulled at the button on his trousers and yanked at the zipper, not even pausing as you heard them rip at the juncture. His cock had already found its way out of his underwear, so you grasped its velvety hardness in your hand and began to jack him off, your grip tight, purposeful.
You controlled every inch of his body in this moment: your hand in his hair and the other on his dick, your tongue in his mouth, and his thighs pinned beneath your weight.
Rami whined into the heated kiss, and with a gasping breath, you pulled back and hissed, “And now you wanna be my good boy, don’t you? You wanna be my pretty boy?”
After pulling on his curls again, Rami answered with a shaky voice.
“Ye-yes!”
“Yes what?”
“I wanna be your good boy.”
“Then come for me, good boy. Come all over your posh clothes.”
“Fuck!” Rami keened as his hips bucked into your hand and he came, thick ropes of cum staining his expensive shirt and even more expensive trousers.
“That’s my pretty boy, good boy. Come hard,” you panted in his ear as he rode out his orgasm.
“Ohmygod,” he slurred. “Fuck, Y/N. Fuck!”
You relaxed your grip on his hair and let him catch his breath as you pumped your hand lightly up and down his cock, cum coating your palm.
“That was fucking ama—”
“Oh no,” you said, quickly moving your cum-covered palm to slap over his mouth. “Was implies that we’re done, and Rami . . . we’ve only just begun.”
He whimpered under your palm and you removed it, leaning in to kiss him, relishing in the taste of his cum on his lips. You took that same hand and wrapped it around the back of his head, once again controlling the kiss.
Leaning back, you smiled wickedly. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
Rami looked down at his clothes, and you knew he was inwardly groaning. Yes, he loved high fashion, but he remembered what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck, working a motely mess of jobs just to survive.
“What a waste—doubt those, what? $1,200 pants can be salvaged.”
“$1,520,” Rami stated, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth as he rested his head against the back of the sofa.
Stoking his inner conflict, you whistled before stating, “That’s a lotta dough, Ram.” You gave his face a few light pats before moving off his lap and on to the cushion next to him.
“I had to watch you dress and undress all day long and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Now that there is, be a good boy, stand up, and undress . . . just for me.”
Rami turned to glance at you and seeing no room for negotiation, he shuffled up and off the sofa. You put your foot on the edge of the coffee table and pushed, the light piece of furniture skidding back, almost into the wall beneath the television.
You raised your brow and waited, your face schooled into a mask of indifference.
His pants were tight enough to still cling to his hips, so Rami brought his fingers up to the top button of his tiger-striped shirt. He moved quickly and you tsked at him.
“Slowly, baby. Slowly.”
Rami’s thick fingers hitched before steadying over the next button, his head bent in concentration.
“Eyes up here.”
He looked up, obeying without hesitation.
“Good boy,” you praised, eyes locked on his as he continued to open his shirt, and at your praise, that part of him that was so alive during the photoshoot came to life again. When he reached the last button, he paused to let you drink in the strip of brown skin and the light dusting of dark hair on his chest.
When your eyes made their way back to his, he held your gaze as he unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged out of each of the sleeves. He let the shirt pool to the floor, and the next thing his fingers reached for was his watch.
“No, baby. Leave the watch on.”
Rami’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before his mouth opened to take in more air. You could see his half-hard dick twitch, and your mask of indifference flickered as you smirked.
Rami’s hands grasped the expensive black fabric and tugged. Once his trousers were past the tops of his thighs, they slid down his legs and he stepped out of them. One of his socks was still pulled up properly while the other was drooped to his ankle. He bent to remove the drooped one, then he removed the other.
Your eyes slid over the thick, curly black hair on his legs and travelled back to your second favorite overly-proportioned part of his anatomy. As gorgeous as his cock was, his eyes would always hold first place.
You shifted on the sofa and raised your chin, looking up at his face as he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of his black boxer-briefs. He was seeking permission to remove the last of his clothes and you smiled before giving him a single nod of assent.
Rami stood in front of you, naked and unsure of what to do with his hands. This always made your heart flutter; he was so sexy and confident for the public, but for you, he was demure and so eager to obey. Letting him squirm for a few moments longer, you used the time to drink in his nakedness before finally standing.
“On your knees.”
He complied, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, save for the occasional twitch of his fingers.
You circled him, once, twice, building his anticipation, and when you stopped behind him and brought your hands to his shoulders, he shivered at your touch.
Digging your fingertips into his flesh, you slid your hands forward and down over his pecs, kneading them before you found his nipples and tweaked them, rolling them between your index fingers and thumbs before giving them a tug.
Rami moaned, and you leaned next to his ear as you said, “Shh. Good boys are quiet as church mice. I don’t care if you bite your lips until they bleed—you are not to make another sound until I say so.
“Are you still my good boy?”
He nodded once, and you acknowledged with a swift, sharp smack to his right ass cheek.
Rami wanted to groan—in fact, he started to, but he cut himself off by biting down on his lower lip.
Always a sucker for synchrony, you smacked his left cheek so it blushed just as prettily as the right.
The sound of your denim shorts unzipping had Rami’s shoulders tensed. You could tell he was listening as you undressed, wondering if you’d be naked when you moved back in his line of vision. You weren’t ready to go that far yet, so when he did see you again, you were still covered by a plain white bra and matching white panties.
Gripping his hair once again, you pressed his face into your mound and Rami rubbed his nose against you, back and forth, before dipping his tongue between your covered lips. After hooking one leg over his shoulder and using his head and other shoulder for balance, you let him mouth at you until your panties were soaked with his saliva and your arousal. Try as he might, he just couldn’t get his tongue underneath the tight elastic for any significant portion of time. You could feel his frustration, but it only spurned you on.
“Poor baby. I know how much you love eating pussy.”
Rami sighed, his hands on your calves, his mouth reaching up to grip the waistband of the infuriating barrier between his teeth.
You smacked lightly at his cheek, and he retreated, head lowered.
“You wanna taste me that bad, huh? All right. Get on all fours.”
You walked in a half-circle, once again standing behind him as he got into the position you commanded.
A gorgeous, deep blush bloomed across his shoulders. Dropping to your own knees, you settled between his thighs and aligned your hips against his ass. You pushed into him, teasing him like you would if you had a different anatomy, and you knew Rami was fighting a losing battle to keep quiet.
You scratched his back and continued to press against him, bending to kiss down his spine and to reach around to lightly stroke his cock, which was hard again. When you tugged on his balls and slowly massaged each of them, Rami half-whimpered.
He was trying so hard to behave.
You dragged a finger between the cheeks of his ass and lightly fingered him, not with penetration—just a simple pressing of your index finger just enough to make him clench and lean back into your touch.
Chuckling, you moved to scratch up and down the backs of his thighs and in the same, low purr from earlier, you wove him a little story, something you knew drove him absolutely wild. “You want to come again. I can feel it—your balls are tight and hot, your ass is clenched. You should see how sexy you look from back here, baby. The muscles in your back are twitching, oh, and your thighs, too. I bet a part of you wants to end this, wants to force me to the floor and fuck me until that ache at the base of your spine bursts open. But you can’t. And more importantly, you won’t.
“All because you are my pretty little good boy.”
This time, your good boy did whimper, so you brought both of your hands down onto his ass cheeks, spanking him until they turned a pretty pink. You smiled at the little gasps that escaped from between his lips, and when you could no longer ignore your own body’s need, you pressed a kiss to the base of his spine, right where you knew he ached.
Standing, you finally slipped out of your bra and panties, and you walked to the sofa, taking a seat facing him. His eyes were wet and crackling like a livewire. While crooking your index finger, you hooked one knee over the edge of the couch and exposed your soaking pussy to him.
“Crawl,” you commanded.
His bottom lip was a mess, indentured from his teeth and you wondered if the inside of his mouth was wrecked, too. Rami was vocal, all of the time, so it was a true challenge for him to stay quiet, and you were basking in how well he was doing. When Rami’s face was no more than six inches from your pussy, he looked up, his eyes still electric, and he begged with them. Even though he could see and smell how aroused you were, he waited for your command.
“Do you want to fuck me with your pretty mouth?”
Rami’s eyes burned into yours as he nodded.
“Do it.”
His mouth was hot on your center and both of your hands thrust into his curls. His tongue was inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit while he licked and swirled as deep as he could reach.
“Enough teasing,” you groaned with a tug to his hair.
Shifting closer, Rami moved his mouth up and wrapped his lips around your swollen clit.
“Ah, fuck,” you moaned, lost to the pleasure of his mouth. “Make me come.”
Rami licked at your clit with short, quick bursts of speed before closing his lips and sucking. He had your thighs pinned open and his fingers were bruising as he fucked you with his face.
“Ah, fucking hell Rami! That’s my good boy!”
Rami moaned around your clit and you didn’t care because it sent you straight over the edge, crying out a slur of swears that were punctuated with his name.
He softened and slowed his ministrations as he rubbed his nose, mouth, and chin over your pussy, waiting patiently for you to regain your composure, knowing that you were far from done with him.
At some point, you had let go of his hair and reached up to grasp the couch cushions, so you sighed as you brought your hand down to push lightly against his forehead.
“Wipe off your face and rub it over your cock,” you commanded in an even tone.
Rami did as he was told and his eyes slammed shut, his throat uttering a noise even though he was still trying to stay quiet.
“Do you want to come again, baby?”
He nodded, his eyes still shut tight as his hand picked up its pace.
Lightening quick, you moved off the couch and grasped his wrist, yanking it from his cock. Rami yelped, like a wounded animal and your eyes burned into his as you scolded, “No—that’s a bad boy.”
Two tears leaked from the outer corners of his eyes and your intensity wavered. Those little beads of salt were too tempting to pass up and you licked away one tear, then the other before kissing him.
“Do you still want to be my good boy?” you asked as you pulled away and looked at him, making sure the game hadn’t gone on too long. “Answer me,” you pressed, cupping his face and leaning in to place sweet kisses over his cheeks, his nose, and his eyelids.
“I do,” he croaked.
You pulled back and looked at him, your eyes searching his.
“I do.”
You closed your eyes and sighed, your thumbs stroking his cheeks before you let him go so you could stand up.
“Bedroom—on your back, arms above your head. Wait for me.”
Rami used the edge of the sofa to pull himself up, and you went into the kitchen as he walked upstairs to his bedroom. You needed him to calm down just a little in order to pull off your next move, so you cracked open one of Rami’s beers and returned to the couch.
The first mouthful was so cold, so crisp and good, the perfect topping for your incredible orgasm. The second mouthful did nothing other than remind you of what Rami tasted like, and you began to ache for him again. Standing, you walked upstairs and to the bedroom, your beer clutched lightly in your fingers.
He was waiting on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, and you were struck with such a profound urge to photograph him like this—to memorialize him as your perfect, good, boy.
“Such perfection,” you breathed, and Rami’s demeanor once again swelled under your praise. Unfortunately, so did his cock, and you just couldn’t have that. Shaking your head, you walked into his closet.
“Rami—you’ve got to close your eyes and think about something else,” you called out while digging around in the bottom drawer of the bureau in his closet. “Think about Sami,” you said with a devilish laugh.
Grabbing two ties, a purple one with silver polka dots and a silver one with purple polka dots, you emerged from the closet only to be greeted by his scowl.
“That worked,” you said, patting his thigh before you straddled his hips and tied one of his wrists to the bed post, then the other.
You laughed as you kissed his forehead, then climbed off of him again. You stopped to take another long drink, and Rami watched you, his cock starting to move from semi-erect to erect.
“No, no,” you scolded, laying your beer down.
With a growl of frustration, Rami shut his eyes. They shot open again when he felt the slick heat of the lube being dripped onto his cock.
“Be a good boy and close your eyes—you know you can’t watch without getting too hard.”
You slicked up his cock and his balls and quickly fastened on the cock ring, knowing you only had a small window of time. You didn’t fault him—you knew without certainty you had nowhere near the level of submissive willpower Rami had.
Well, that Rami mostly had.
You hadn’t even touched him yet and his dick was already swelling back to fully erect.
“Open your eyes, baby.”
You were rewarded with that same electric fire as earlier and held his gaze as you got back into bed and settled between his thighs.
“I wish you could see yourself,” you murmured, holding eye contact. “Your pretty cock all wrapped up and begging, begging for my . . . wet . . . heat.”
Rami’s cock swelled, his balls tightening and starting to turn a delicious shade of red.
You leaned forward on your hands and bent to lick his balls with teasing, tiny strokes of your tongue. You could hear him pull on the wrist restraints and suck in a breath.
“If you need to stop, what are you gonna say?”
“Stop,” Rami stated clearly.
You locked eyes with him and nodded—if he said, stop, you’d stop.
Before you bent to his cock again, you said, “I wanna hear how good I make you feel, okay?”
“Okay,” he breathed, his hips lifting on the bed in a silent prayer that you’d take him in your mouth.
Laughing softly, you licked his cock from base to tip, almost unwilling to believe that he could get any harder than he already was. As you straightened up to pump him, you glanced at the hands on Rami’s watch to make sure you didn’t push him for too long.
You positioned yourself over his hips and slid your soaked pussy along his cock, teasing and enjoying the way his rock hard dick felt when it brushed your clit.
Rami moaned and it was a beautifully desperate sound, an aching call for you to just finally fuck him. Shifting your position as you rocked your hips, his dick slid inside of you and both of you shuddered at the contact.
“Fuck, Rami. You feel so good—so fucking good.”
Rami’s wrists tugged at his restraints as his hips bucked under you, desperate for you to move, except you didn’t. Instead, you just perched on top of him and let your eyes run over his face and his torso.
“So good for me,” you said with a wicked grin. “Hold still, baby.”
Rami’s eyes filled with tears and a strangled cry sounded low in his throat.
“Shh. Just a little longer.”
His breathing hitched and began to come in shallow gulps as he strained against his ties, desperate to focus on anything, even pain, over his denied-ecstasy as you cockwarmed him.
“So good,” you said as you began to work your clit, your fingers finding a familiar, easy rhythm.
“Oh god,” Rami groaned as tears fell from his eyes. “Oh god, oh god.”
“Oh yes, oh YES!” you growled as you came quickly, your pussy clenching around him, causing him to utter a choked sob.
As the last waves of your orgasm ebbed, you began to ride him and you focused on his flushed, tear stained cheeks, you knew there was not a creature more beautiful than him in existence. He was your good boy, your pretty little good boy and he deserved to come inside of you.
Picking up your pace, you clutched at his chest, forcing his hazy eyes to focus on you.
“Are you ready to come, baby?”
“Yes! Please, please yes,” he begged, his voice so deep and desperate that he spoke more from his chest than his throat.
A flush of pleasure rushed through you as you reached around to unfasten the cock ring, and you didn’t even need to move before Rami’s orgasm tore through him, a scream of pleasure rushing past his lips as he came so hard you could feel every spurt of his hot cum splashing inside you.
Gently, you rode him through his intense orgasm. When Rami’s head thrashed from side to side, and he said, “Stop. Stop,” you moved off of him immediately and reached up to unloop the ties from the bed post, knowing it would take a minute to get the knots around his wrists undone.
You kneeled beside him as ragged breaths tore through his lungs. Working the knots off his wrists, you soothed him, “Rami, baby, you did so good. You were such a good boy. No one, no one is as good as you, baby. No one.”
Rami took a gulping breath as his chest evened out. He stretched his legs and his arms, flexed his wrists and reached up to wipe the sweat off his brow.
“Oh, sweetheart—god, you’re perfect,” you said with a kiss to his sweaty temple. “What can I get for you?”
“I’m so thirsty,” he rasped, his eyes half-lidded, that electric fire finally sated.
“You’re gonna be starving in about ten minutes, too, so I’ll order something while I’m in the kitchen.”
“Mmmkay. So good to me,” he murmured with a sweet smile that melted your heart when you turned to look at him from the bedroom door.
“I love you, Rami.”
“Not as much as I love you, Y/N.”
You smiled at each other, wide, mirrored grins of happiness, and after one more glance, you dashed down to the kitchen to take care of your good boy.
