tboy puppy sitting in his masters lap crying about something or other while his owner listens ever so patiently, cooing comforting words into his ear, talking him through the problem with one hand rubbing gentle circles into his back. his other hand is..elsewhere, easily finding its way between the puppies legs. almost too easily, but that’s exactly how he wants his boy, all vulnerable and needy. so easy to take advantage of. poor little puppy so overwhelmed he’s completely at his masters mercy already when his fingers slip inside him. before he’s even fully aware of the change his cries and sniffles have started sounding more like whimpers and yips, hips rutting into his master all on their own with a desperate rhythm.
“that’s it…just focus on my hand. atta boy. that’s my good boy..,” he praises, amusedly watching his puppies tear-streaked gaze go all fuzzy and dumb from the stimulation. he remains ready to comfort the crying puppy, but knows that won’t be necessary. the pathetic thing is already mindlessly grinding into his touch, problems seemingly miles away. he always knows what his puppy needs.