Work Text:
From the time that you entered the familiar open-concept apartment, it was clear that your and Steven’s work days had gone very differently from each other. You’d had an extraordinarily stressful day at work—your boss had chewed you out and you’d had to skip your lunch break—and you were tired, pissed, and ready for some peace and quiet with your gentle, darling boyfriend. You figured the two of you could order pizza or Chinese and curl up on the couch to watch a classic movie.
When you opened the door to your shared flat, though, you knew immediately that Steven had other ideas. He was standing in the kitchen, apron on and tongs in hand, and the smell of garlic and oregano filled the air. He seemed abnormally cheery, humming along to a playlist of show tunes that echoed from his phone by the sink.
“Oh! Hello, darling!” he said when he heard the lock click behind you. “Just making us some pasta. Hope that sounds good, yeah? My shift ended early at the museum and I thought I’d treat us to a home-cooked meal.”
“Sounds great, love,” You inhaled deeply as you plopped your workbag on the couch, hoping that the decadent aromatics would ease the tension in your body. It was nice to see Steven so bubbly, and even nicer to see him cooking one of your favorite dishes. Still, you weren’t exactly able to work up an appetite considering the verbal abuse you’d endured from your boss. Especially since, for the record, you hadn’t done anything wrong. You started toward the kitchen, figuring a glass of water might help you relax enough to stir up an interest in the wildly inauthentic Italian cuisine before you. To be fair, Steven would normally be a stickler for accuracy, but being vegan doesn’t make for the easiest adherence to traditional Italian food.
You pulled a glass from the cabinet above the toaster, swerving around Steven so as to not disturb him while he cooked. You felt slightly more at ease just by being in close proximity to him, knowing that he would easily be the gentlest soul you talked to today, but the music blaring from beside the sink rang in your ears as you filled up your cup. You gritted your teeth as you waited for the glass to fill, but you couldn’t stand the almost mockingly jolly song chipping away at your inner ear. You tapped Steven’s phone with the pad of your index finger, sliding the volume bar down about halfway. He didn’t seem to think much of it, continuing to hum along but eyeing you with innocent confusion.
“Why don’t you go wash up, darling? I’ll set us up at the table.” Steven seemed obviously proud of his cooking and, judging by the brightness in his eyes, utterly oblivious to your tired and pent-up state. Not that it upset you that he didn’t notice. You would hate to burden Steven with your trivial work troubles, especially when he seemed in such a great mood.
You headed to the bathroom to wash your face and hands, electing to throw your overshirt into the hamper while you were there. You were starting to feel more relaxed, reassured by the thoughtfulness of your partner and his exuberant mood, but the stress was only replaced by a more intense mental and emotional tiredness. You hoped that the meal would help brighten your mood.
When you returned to the den of the apartment, you were greeted by a fully-set table, illuminated by candlelight. He always liked to liven up your dinners together. Just to do something small and special, to show his appreciation for you. Steven grinned up at you as he placed a shallow bowl of pasta in front of your seat, pulling out the chair for you and motioning you forward.
“Bon appétit,” he cooed as you both settled in your chairs, “Don’t know about you, love, but I’m absolutely ravenous. I was going to get a bottle of wine to have with dinner, but then I got distracted by this little corgi that a lady had tried to smuggle into the shop in her purse.”
He giggled as he recalled his afternoon, sparing no details of his witness to a store clerk confronting the woman and her dog. She had vehemently denied it, apparently, despite the little pup being in plain sight of all of the staff and customers. You cracked a smile at his recount of the story, enjoying how his eyes lit up with the mental imagery he was recalling. He seemed weightless, as if he’d lived this whole day in a children’s story or a fairytale. It was amazing to you how Steven could be so positive when dealing with everyday life. How he could see adventure in everything, even a trip to the grocer.
You had nearly finished your plate without even noticing. The food filled you with a satisfying warmth, and you were reminded of just how hungry you had been after skipping today’s lunch. Steven saw that you were nearing the end of your meal, and he practically jumped from his seat with a look of sudden haste.
“I nearly forgot! There’s dessert in the fridge. Can’t take credit for it, I’m afraid. I bought it pre-made.”
He presented you with a tray of tiramisu. You made a noise of excitement as you dug your spoon into the soft, coffee-dusted surface. Of course Steven had bought something for dessert. He never did things halfway, especially not when they were things for you.
You devoured the confection as fast as you had your dinner. This time, Steven noticed your exceptional hunger, having been only halfway through his own serving of pasta. He tilted his head, reminiscent of the way a puppy might, furrowing his brow in an expression of slight concern.
“You alright, love?” he prodded, his tone gentle but fairly emphatic. “Never seen you scarf down food like that before. D’you miss your lunch or something?”
You didn’t want to burden him with the semantics of your horrid day. The yelling, the ordering, the frantic damage-control that left you pissed and exhausted hours before the end of your shift. Steven didn’t deserve to hear all that. You couldn’t ruin his mood after the obvious blessing of a day he’d experienced.
“Yeah, just got too busy to eat. I hadn’t really noticed how hungry I was, I guess. Your cooking is excellent though, my love. It always is.”
You sat patiently as you watched Steven finish his plate. You nibbled at another half-serving of tiramisu, not wanting to stuff yourself in fear of an upset stomach later on. The rest of dinner went by fairly quietly; you weren’t talking about your day, and Steven was too busy eating his own dinner to gift you with any more of his anecdotes from the morning.
It was hard to stay tense and angry in the presence of Steven Grant. He was so gentle, so goofy, and his demeanor would make anyone feel guilty for bringing down the mood in his wake. Of course, you could always be serious with him when life required you to be. He was just as caring and mature as he was youthful, and he’d had a lifetime of practice being comforting and remarkably level-headed. You felt your grudge against your jackass boss begin to dissipate from your body, drowned out by the warmth and tenderness of the man who sat before you.
“Can we watch a Disney movie tonight?” You asked him sheepishly as he took his last bite of food. “I just don’t feel in the mood for any of the heavy stuff, you know? I wanna watch something… light. And peaceful.”
“Of course, love.” He responded. “Anything you’d like. I can make us some martinis if you want. Nothing says well-adjusted adult like getting plastered while watching Mulan.”
“I don’t know about plastered, babe, but I could definitely use a drink to loosen up a bit.”
~~
The two of you settled into the soft warmth of the faded old sofa. Instinctively, Steven moved to wrap his arm around your shoulder and you welcomed his embrace with a resigned sigh. It had been such a long day, and you were ready to be free of the commotion and watch a nice, comforting movie with some cheap mixed drinks and cuddles from your boyfriend.
As the opening credits flashed across the screen, though, it became increasingly clear that Steven wasn’t just in the calm and cuddly mood. Thinking he was being sly, he placed his calloused hand on the fabric covering your inner thigh. You tried not to indicate that you had taken notice of this small gesture. After a few minutes, he started to draw little patterns with the pads of his fingers, testing the waters to see how receptive you were to his touch.
I’ll just indulge him, you thought to yourself. Maybe it would help to let off some steam. And God, it’s not like I can resist him looking at me like that.
You weren’t even looking up at Steven, but you could feel his tired, lustful eyes surveying your body as his other hand tightened around your shoulder. You could hear his breathing, slightly faster than it should be for someone lounging around watching a Pixar movie. You knew that as soon as you met his gaze, you would be putty in his hands. As your head and neck were pressed into his chest, you swore you could also hear the measurably over-eager beating of his heart.
Steven was always excited, borderline giddy when you accepted his sexual advances or offered your own. He perfectly fit the description of a golden retriever boyfriend, eager to please you and to experience your body over and over again. You knew that as soon as you signaled to him that you shared his interest in sleeping together, he would spring to life with an energy so unexpected from his normally tired and somewhat timid demeanor. You hoped that you could temper his enthusiasm at least a bit for tonight, though. God knows you couldn’t handle so much fervor from him after your stressful day, especially if your aversion to his show tunes earlier was any indication of your patience. You pressed the palm of your hand against his torso, running your hand along the cotton surface of his V-neck. Steven sucked in a hitched breath, but he seemed to respond gently enough to your subtle reciprocation of his touch. Finally, you braced yourself for his admiring gaze as you lifted your chin off his chest to meet his eyes.
Sure enough, his soft brown eyes were studying your frame like a renaissance painting, widened and yearning but also restrained as Steven still attempted to appear nonchalant. His pupils were dilated, and his eyes snapped to meet yours when he noticed your movement upward toward him. He looked at you with a mixture of bewilderment and thirst, as though you were a god to be worshipped but also a prize to be won. You swallowed thickly as he peered into your gaze. You felt some of the stressful tension in your body turn to heat, your short temper from this morning’s castigation converting to yearning for his touch.
You wanted to push Steven onto his back. To constrain him under your weight and devour every inch of his sweet, supple skin. The rigidness inside your bones only transformed your want into an animalistic craving. You wanted to have him, to indulge your every desire surrounding his soft, toned body and his ethereal mind. You drank in the picture of his serene blushing face, allowing your longing to battle your exhaustion and surliness. What you desired from him tonight was so different from the fun that you two normally had. Typically, Steven would take the initiative in the bedroom, physically and mentally dominant though he was always gentle and unselfish. Whenever the two of you had sex, it generally happened at his pace and on his terms. Not that this was in any way unsuitable to you; it was quite sexy seeing the normally innocent and awkward Steven express such a tempered and confident authority. But tonight, despite your contentment with his normal proceedings of intimacy, you couldn’t help but want to take control. Hell, you needed control tonight.
You decided to let him rile himself up like normal before you asserted yourself. You knew that Steven wouldn’t be opposed to submitting himself to you, though it wasn’t something he did often. You were both so comfortable in your typical roles and it’s not like either of you didn’t enjoy yourselves. Still, you wanted to make sure that he was desperate enough to eagerly accept your terms. You would never take advantage of him, but you felt as though the next person to try and tell you what to do today would likely find themselves on the receiving end of your strongest right hook. No, tonight was certainly going to go how you wanted it, and you knew Steven would be happy to oblige, especially if you got him riled up enough.
With your free hand, you grasped a fistful of Steven’s shirt, pulling him forward so that his lips were on yours. Immediately, all of Steven’s constraint was lost as he pushed his weight against you, hands exploring your body as frantically as his mouth explored your own. He was always this eager to touch you, like he was holding you for the very first time, no matter how many times he’d done it before. His own exceptionally cheery day only added to his enthusiasm, evident in the way that he clung to the back of your neck and scarcely pulled away to breathe. You figured that he would have already been tearing at your clothing if your own hands against his chest and shoulder weren’t preventing him from doing so. You kissed him for a long while, trying to coax his frenzied excitement into a more drunken passion. His lips were soft against yours; he never made a move unless he was sure you were inviting it, though he was already so tightly wound that you could feel his muscles straining to hold back. You sank into his grasp, welcoming the familiar disciplined strength until you eventually had to pull away for breath.
“Steven, honey,” You whispered to him, admiring his disheveled felicity, “I want to try something different tonight.”
“Different?” He raised his eyebrow inquisitively, a shy smile emerging in the corners of his mouth. “Different how?”
“I want…” You surveyed your mind for the right words to convey your thoughts. It seemed so simple, so obvious inside your head. You were never really good at the sweet-talking or at making requests, for that matter. You supposed that’s why this didn’t happen often. Steven had no trouble with that stuff. “I want to take control. I want to… I mean—I guess… I want to be dominant tonight. I want to be in control.”
He took a moment to process your response before a childlike grin grew upon his musing face. You heard a huff of air escape his slightly parted lips, almost reminiscent of a laugh.
“Like a dominatrix! Oh, that sounds quite racy, doesn’t it?” He joked, and you could feel the heat burning at the tops of your ears. Steven cupped your chin, his pupils dilated with captivation. You couldn’t exactly make out his emotion, but he was certainly on board. The bulge in his sweatpants was evidence enough for that. “If that’s what you want, love. I’m more than happy to oblige. Can’t promise I’ll be the best listener, though. Familiar habits and all that. But I am down for whatever you would like. I’m all yours, darling.”
You liked his answer. Like him, you were skeptical that Steven would be able to surrender control to you completely. He was simply too enthusiastic about being with you. You were determined, though, and you were both becoming more impatient with the layers of clothing between you. At this point, your hands had fallen from Steven’s chest, though his palm still cupped your face tenderly. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, waiting for you to make any indication of how to move forward. Steven was nothing if not patient, as over-eager as he always was. You could feel him buzzing with anticipation, though, like a dog waiting for his owner to throw him a biscuit. You were sure that he would have tackled you by now if he wasn’t so respectful of your boundaries.
“We should go somewhere more comfortable, yeah?” You unfolded your legs from his embrace, motioning to stand up off of the little couch. You led him to your shared bedroom with one of his hands interlocked in yours and by now he was having to frequently readjust himself in his grey sweats. He seemed as though he didn’t quite know where to put his hands, eager to feel your skin under his but pitifully trying not to move without your command. You turned your head to hide a small smile, as you were amused by how adorably out-of-place he seemed to be. You sat him down on the edge of your bed, grasping his hands and positioning them for him on the mattress at each side of his waist. You stood over him, lifting his chin with your pointer finger so that you could meet his gaze. You weren’t sure if you looked as authoritative as you intended, or if Steven only found your attempt at control to be adorable. Still, you felt an empowering wave of euphoria at the reversal of your usual dynamic.
“Wait here.”
You could see Steven try not to huff at your command, so desperate already for any kind of contact. You removed your hand from his chin and he allowed his head to fall slightly, causing a few curls to cascade over his eyes. He tried to hide the hitching in his breath as you separated your touch from his body, but his impatience was evident nonetheless in his shallow, jagged breath. Backing away, you felt an unfamiliar response to his frenzied pining: pride. It felt good to have Steven wrapped around your finger. To have his pleasure be on your terms, in your time. Of course you were anxious to please him, as always, but watching him having to wait for it, to wait for your action, was a new kind of excitement. It was intoxicating.
You stepped back, posturing yourself about a meter from where Steven sat. His gaze fell from your face to your body, filled with lust that failed to hide behind his wide, innocent brown eyes. You took the bottom of your shirt in your hands, lifting it slowly over your torso as he watched. Steven’s eyes darted rapidly between your face and your hands like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing. Still, he sat obediently with his hands to his sides as you’d placed them. You were having fun teasing him, but you were testing his patience in an unfamiliar way and it would be a miracle for him to surrender himself to you for the rest of the night. You wondered how long he would last.
Finally, you pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest to your ravenous lover. You leaned into him for a kiss, and his hands instinctively sprang up to touch your breasts. He snaked his arm around you in an attempt to pull your weight onto him, but you held yourself upright against his grasp. You tsked against his lips, pressing your forehead against his and peering deep into his bewildered eyes. He wasn’t going to get off that easy. Not before the fun had even started.
“So eager, baby.” You taunted him, grabbing his wrists to lead his arms back down to the bed. “Why don’t you slow it down, yeah? Let me put on a show for you, stretch out the fun. We’re not in a hurry, now, are we?”
He swallowed thickly at the words, obviously struggling to play into the new power complex. A small wave of concern washed over you, raising a thought that perhaps Steven wasn’t enjoying this. Maybe you needed to re-evaluate how you wanted tonight to proceed. The idea brought a weight into your stomach and you straightened your stance above Steven.
“Do you want me to stop, love?” You whispered to him. He furrowed his brow, letting out a breath that bordered a scoff.
“Oh, god no.” He sighed, reaching out to pull you to him before resignedly dropping his hands back down. “Just not used to letting go of it, you know? Of not being in the lead, I mean.”
“But I want to! God, do I want to. Don’t stop, darling. I’m having the time of my life, rest assured. You know I would tell you if I wasn’t.”
With that, you hooked your finger under Steven’s t-shirt, tugging upward as he raised his arms to allow you to pull it all the way off. You grasped the base of his neck, kissing him deeply as he again struggled against his impulse to overpower you. As you moved your lips to his neck, though, Steven’s intuition overtook him and he again wrapped his arms around you, this time with a feverish strength as he threw his head backward in delight.
Within a moment, you watched as a small tinge of shame emerged over Steven’s face. He loosened his grip on you, allowing one of his hands to drop but not pulling away completely. You sighed as you motioned to step backward from him, but something stopped you before your feet could move. An idea, a brilliant, fiendish idea lit up in your brain.
“I want to try something.” You pulled away with haste, causing Steven to whimper and grow alert with confusion.
“How many times can you say that in one night?” A look of concern grew on his face, but it was riddled with far more fascination than worry.
“Just tell me if it’s off-limits, okay?” You called to him, by now rummaging through the bottom of your closet. You emerged after a few long seconds with a single, small item in your grasp: a brand-new, shining pair of silver handcuffs. Steven’s eyes widened. You weren’t even sure if he’d known that you owned these, let alone that you ever intended to use them on him.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want, love. I just thought you wouldn’t have to worry so much about control.” Again, you couldn’t decipher what he was feeling from the expression on his face. He looked bewildered, but you struggled to grasp whether he more resembled a deer in headlights or a child seeing snow for the first time. Steven blushed at the sight of the cuffs, but a hint of a smile appearing on his lips indicated he wasn’t going to object.
“Have at it, love.” He murmured, and a surprising image of delight began to grow on his face as he pushed backward onto the bed. Steven looked resigned, as if your suggestion had provided the answer to all of his struggling against his usual instincts. You guessed that it did, in a way, so it wasn’t that odd to see a wave of relief pass over your partner. There was something more than relief, though, as a toothy grin appeared on Steven’s wistful face. Something more cheeky, you could see in his eyes. “You know, I’ve kind of always wanted to try these.”
“No time like the present, baby.”
It was admittedly awkward as you fumbled to cuff Steven to the headboard of your bed. By the time you had positioned him to your liking, the cuffs looped around the middle panel of the frame, the both of you had broken quite a sweat. Still, you were more than satisfied with your work. Steven’s muscles strained against the pull of the cuffs on his arms. His biceps flexing above his head were a sight to see as his breath shuttered in his chest, uneven from his anticipation as well as the slight tension on his arms. He had assured you that it was fine, that he wasn’t too uncomfortable and that it looked to be more of a struggle than it really was. Still, you were attentive to the way he tensed underneath you. You would be more concerned if he didn’t look so ravishing.
Despite his apparent discomfort, Steven looked more than satisfied with his position. His eyes were much more drunken, his cheeks blushed and his lips riddled with an ecstatic delirium. Neither of you had made it very far into the martinis that Steven had made, so his undoing was more than likely a result of his arousal. You could tell that he was painfully hard underneath his sweatpants; he writhed and bucked his hips underneath you in a fruitless attempt to gain some friction and relief. By now, your clothes were all gone apart from your underwear. Steven’s sweats and boxers still remained, much to his dismay.
“Sure you’re okay, love?” You inquired, keys in hand to release him from his restraints at his soonest request. He nodded, breathless, and bucked up at you once more, unable to hide his unyielding restiveness.
“I’m aces, darling.” He chuckled dryly, “Bit impatient, though, yeah?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that.”
Steven whimpered as you snagged the band of his sweatpants, gasping as you tugged them down over his leaking erection. You made haste in removing them completely, tossing them to the pile of clothes you had removed from yourself moments earlier. He groaned as you pressed your palm lightly to the front of his boxers, curling his toes in feverous restraint as he tried in vain not to buck his hips again. Steven stifled a gasp as you tugged at the hem of the fabric, the cold air stinging his thighs as he sprang free from the final layer of fabric constraining him. He jerked against the cuffs that held his arms, wincing at the realization that he truly was at your mercy now. His anguish was short-lived, however, as you swiftly gripped the base of his length in your hands, taking the now-crimson tip into your mouth.
Giving head was an infrequent occurrence in your relationship. Not that you were unwilling, but Steven would never ask this of you in his normally dominant assumption of command during sex. He tended to give much more than he fought to receive, and he had derived most of his pleasure in more collaborative methods of intimacy. Collaboration wasn’t in the cards right now, though. You saw no better opportunity to focus on his pleasure. Yours was coming anyway, one way or another.
It took all of your strength to hold down Steven’s thighs, to prevent him from bucking into your mouth. Of course, he would never hurt you on purpose, and he was usually a pillar of self-restraint, but the restriction of his hands and arms disallowed him from expelling his energy any other way. He simply couldn’t help himself. You grasped his hips as tightly as you could, certain you were going to leave a mark. After a few moments of hollowing your cheeks, you decided it wasn’t worth it to counteract his strength this way. You elected instead to maneuver yourself so that you were sitting on his thighs. This proved to be much easier, though you had to arch your back more to take him. At least this way you were getting some friction too, as your own arousal was becoming uncomfortable between your legs.
“Bloody hell, darling,” Steven whined, throwing his head back against the bed frame, “Feels… so good. My God.”
His praises did not ring unusual in your ears, but they held a wildly different meaning than normal. A string of obscenities fell from Steven’s lips as you took him entirely into your mouth. You watched in delight as he writhed underneath you, sweat beading and muscles tensing in euphoric anguish. Your hands explored his chest and belly and you could feel him heaving below them. He wasn’t going to last long like this.
You pulled off of him and sat upright, leaving him quietly whimpering as he craned his neck to stare down at you. You swiftly removed your last article of clothing, sucking in a breath of confidence as Steven met your gaze. Much to his satisfaction, you lined yourself up against his pelvis, your entrance more than prepared for him from your soaking arousal. He groaned, relaxing his neck as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Steven’s breath hitched in his throat as you bottomed out, your thighs now resting on his hips. You leaned forward, intent on pressing a kiss to his pillowy lips, but you couldn’t help but pause to take in your head-on view of his utterly wrecked state. His damp curls framed his face in odd directions, ravaged by his thrashing as well as the sweat. His face and neck were flushed and his lips were parted as he shallowly panted against you. More than satisfied, you planted a sweet kiss on his mouth. Steven lazily reciprocated, dazed by his pleasure and resigned to his bondage.
It was unlikely that you would have the energy to ride him properly. You tested the waters by rolling your hips upward, eliciting a choked moan from the shattered man beneath you. You set a slow pace at first, assessing your strength and endurance. Very rarely did you find yourself in this position; Steven was normally the one worried about stamina. Before long, Steven’s praises began to mix with vulgarities as they cascaded off of his tongue. You weren’t as winded as you thought you’d be.
“Feels so fucking good.” Steven exalted, grinding up into you to the best of his leverage. You propped yourself up with one hand, using the other to explore Steven’s skin. You drank in the way he stretched against the restraints, more desperate than normal and so much more vocal. You quickened your pace, chasing your own pleasure with a sovereignty you weren’t accustomed to, and Steven’s words ran together into whimpers and groans. He bucked his hips into you with as much force as he could muster, hitting your sweet spot as only he knew how despite his limitation of movement.
In seconds, you felt your orgasm approaching, and you tightened your grip on the sheets below you. You whined as you followed your high, struggling to keep your eyes open and on the marvelous sight underneath you. As you tensed around him, though, Steven managed to grind against you with a remarkable pressure, your eyes snapped shut against your will as you released over him, practically screaming. Your muscles constricted rapidly, only adding pleasure to Steven’s experience as you rode out your orgasm. Within seconds, Steven’s hips were sputtering beneath you at a fervent rate, and an unhindered sob escaped his lips as he finished, still buried inside you.
Both of you were still for some moments, overcome by the intensity of the culmination of your pleasure. You took a moment to steady your breath before gently lifting off of him, bending toward the side table for the keys to his handcuffs. Before you released him though, you took one final second to relish in the mess that you’d made of him. Steven was absolutely wrecked, visibly exhausted and covered in sweat, wrists inflamed from his wrestling against the metal. An exhausted smile sat upon his face though as he was obviously content with the night’s proceedings.
“Hold still, baby,” You instructed as you unlocked the bars around his wrists. He lowered his arms slowly, partly numb from the tension and immobility they had endured. You took his hands into yours, massaging his wrists gently and surveying for any broken skin. Surprisingly, Steven was fine, though you had been sure that his thrashing would leave more damage on the surface of his skin. You supposed that there might be a small line of bruising by morning, but for the most part, he seemed to be unharmed. Apart from physical evidence, it was apparent that Steven was feeling more than okay.
“That was fantastic.” He hummed sleepily as he pulled you to his torso and clung to you with exhausted strength. “You’re so… so beautiful, darling. So good. Hmm… so wonderful.”
You giggled softly at his obvious delirium, planting a tender kiss on the base of his collarbone. He sighed with a tempered swallow, bracing himself to sit up against the headboard. Steven inhaled slowly and deeply, trying to regain his ability to think.
“Suppose we should go tidy up, yeah?” He suggested to you, stroking your neck and shoulder, “Had quite the work-out there, didn’t we?”
“I would say so.” You agreed. You reluctantly stepped to the side of the bed, missing his warmth against you as you briefly separated. He followed suit more slowly, exasperated from the unfamiliar change of pace he’d experienced. He followed you into the bathroom, pulling towels from the cabinet as you turned the knob on the shower. You quickly peered into the mirror, marveling at your own ruined state. At this point, Steven couldn’t keep his grasp off of you, having a new appreciation for the use of his hands. You rolled your eyes at the irony, resigning yourself to the possibility that maybe the cuffs had done nothing to tame his eagerness after all.
Before you stepped into the shower, Steven’s words arrived softly in your ears. He was satisfied, for sure.
“We’ll have to do that again sometime.”