My lord asking me to refill his wine, he’s drunk with his company. Pulling me onto his lap, he asks me to help him drink. I dutifully oblige and take a hold of his chin, opening his mouth gently—my thumb pressed on his lower lip.
He looks so beautiful looking up at me like this, and I savor it as I take a drink of the wine meant for him.
The protest I see in his eyes quickly vanishes as I lean down; his breathing slows as I halt inches from his lips. A small groan escaping him as I let the wine slip from my lips into his, the grip he has on me getting tighter. Feeling his hips buck into me, I take it as a job well done. I can only grin as he pants and demands I go wait for him at his quarters.








