I’m on my feet before my alarm even has time to reach its second chime. My bare soles slap against the cold hardwood floor as I pad across the hallway, half-running, half-tiptoeing.

The guest bedroom’s door is still ajar, like I left it last night. 

I hold my breath, heart pounding in my throat, then peek in, risking a glance.

Leo is there, this was not a dream. 

He sleeps soundly, which feels a little unfair considering I spent the night agonizing over whether I’d just destroyed our ten-year friendship. At least it looks like he tossed around at some point, because the cover is bunched around his knees, leaving his nude, smooth body exposed. But still.

There’s something absurdly endearing about the way he hugs the pillow, curled up on his side, butt sticking right out at me.

It should feel creepy gawking at my naked friend, slumbering in the bed I prepared for him. It kinda does, actually. But right now I’m fighting my urge to sneak in and smell his hair.

I need a shower. I stink and I’m wired from last night’s high. 

And I need to brush my teeth, because I can still smell him on my breath. Jesus. 

With one last look, I sigh and retreat to my bathroom. The woman in the mirror is way too smug. But she was brave last night, she deserves the ego boost.

I check my phone. There’s plenty of time, and it looks like my guest won’t be emerging for a while. I step under the water, and take the extra time to shampoo my hair. Wrapped in my towel, I browse my closet. 

Should I be a little more daring than usual? It worked surprisingly well. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never looked at me like he did last night.

No, this morning needs to be about normalizing whatever this is. Hoodie and leggings it is.

I remember his own clothes, still safely tucked away in the playroom. The careful option would be to just hand them to Leo as soon as he wakes up. But the more fun part of my brain has a plan, and this feels reasonable enough.

Despite the excitement, I try not to wake him up as I rush down and up the basement stairs.

For all his cuteness, he is still a guy. He only has his phone, keys, and a slim wallet when I empty his pockets over the living room coffee table, leaving them there for him. Finally, I can throw his clothes in the machine with the rest of my own laundry.

After another few minutes of mindless chores, I work up the courage to go back upstairs.

“Leo,” I almost whisper, gently rapping on the open doorframe. 

Maybe I’m being a little too cautious. It takes me three more tries to get him to start stirring. He rewards me with a long half-conscious stretch, exposing every single detail of his lovely little tush.

I stay on the threshold of the room, even as he rolls over and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. They catch the light from the hallway as they settle on me. There’s a hint of surprise in his green gaze, which I try to drown out with my warmest smile.

“Sleep well?”

Leo opens his mouth to answer, but my gaze drifts down his body, barely dedicating any time to his toned stomach. His cock is swelling up.

He abruptly brings a corner of the cover over his crotch, forcing my eyes back up to his face. Crap, way to go, Willow.

“Huh, yeah.” His voice is a little raspy, his face flushed.

I try to sound casual.

“Feeling okay?”

He shrugs. There’s actually the beginning of a smile on his lips.

“I guess.”

“Good. You know where the bathroom is. Go get showered. We’re supposed to be at Helene’s for brunch in thirty.”

For a moment, it looks like he’s going to speak. But he just scans the dimmed bedroom, then gets to his feet.

“I think my clothes are still in the… basement,” he says, any notion of modesty discarded as he abandons the cover on the bed and walks completely naked toward me. I step back to free the doorway.

He’s never been too shy about his body, and we all love him for it.

“They’re in the wash. I’ll lay something out for you.”

I clear my throat as he passes me. He turns back to look at me. 

“What?”

My only answer is to hold out my cheek. He gets with the program and plants a skittish peck on my skin. Good boy.

I watch him shuffle through the hallway. Does he really need a job? A life? I could just keep him naked, fed and happy up here for a long time.

It takes me a few minutes to stop listening to the running shower. Clothes. Right.

We’re going to be around our friends; I can’t give him something that screams “I SPENT THE NIGHT AT WILLOW’S.” Need to maintain some plausible deniability.

A T-shirt from a concert I dragged him to see. Shorts that I never wear because I can barely get them past my hips. They should fit him and don’t actually look girly. Nothing I can do for socks.

Then comes the tricky question. Underwear. I quickly pull down my leggings and take off my own pair of black boxer briefs. They’re obviously not exactly cut for men, but then again Leo’s not exactly well-endowed. Just to be sure, I also laid out a pair of pink panties next to them. White trim, soft cotton. He can choose. 

I’m magnanimous like that. And whichever pair he picks, I’m the winner. I have a stupid grin on my face as I pull my bottoms back up, commando.

“Where are you?” Leo’s voice comes from the hallway.

“In here,” I call, leaning out of my bedroom door.

He walks in with one of my towels tied around his hips. His hair is wet, drooping in front of his eyes, and stray drops of water still cling to his smooth, toned chest. He pauses when he notices the selection of clothes I laid out on the bed.

“You don’t have to put on the panties,” I say. “But it would make me really happy to know you have them under your clothes around the others.”

Silently, he nods, then drops the towel to the ground like it’s nothing.

“You’re a weirdo.” He still picks the pink underwear. I can’t get over just how into all of this he seems to be. I should have snatched him up years ago.

Leo quickly gets dressed, letting me inspect him as he does. I run my fingers through his wet hair, shaping it until I’m satisfied. There’s nothing I can do about the light stubble on his cheeks right now. But I’m not a fan of it. Not at all.

“Good to go?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah…” He blushes. “Are you free after brunch?”

Bless his heart.

“Of course, dummy.” I ruffle his hair, ruining my own work. I have no choice but to spend more time fixing it again.

“Oh, okay. Maybe we should take your car then. So I don’t chicken out.”

“Sure. But you’re driving.”

===

“Okay, you can drop me off here,” I say, pointing at a spot of free curb in front of Helene’s. “Circle the block once or twice before you park, okay?”

“Sure.” Leo diligently slows my car.

"See you soon.” I lean and press a quick kiss to his scratchy cheek.

I barely remember to grab the donuts from the back seat before jumping out of the car. We deliberately stopped at two different bakeries on the way here so it wouldn't look like we shopped together. I hurry toward the building entrance, hoping no one is looking out the window. Leo driving off in my car would instantly blow our entire cover.

Helene’s roommate lets me in. I’m a little later than I’d like, and most of our friends are already here. It smells like hot pastries, coffee and mimosas. People wave at me, slumped on the couch, or setting up the table.

I drop my contribution on the improvised buffet just in time to catch Helene as she emerges from the kitchen.

She greets me with her usual confident smile. Her thick-rimmed black glasses can’t hide the spark in her blue eyes. The apron cinched at her waist is maybe overdoing the hostess bit, but to be fair to her, she’s kinda rocking it.

Oh, and it has a cat paw pattern. Of course. 

“Willow,” Helene chirps, managing to half-hug me despite the large plate of fresh pancakes she’s carrying. I get hit by a swish of her long ginger hair. Is she showing off the silk ribbon tied around her throat? It’s cute either way.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last night,” she says.

“Don’t worry.” I point at the impressive brunch spread. “Looks great.”

“Right?” The doorbell rings, and Helene quickly sets her dish down before bolting. “I’ll get that!”

As I expect, Leo is at the door. Helene pulls him inside by the arm, then plays one of the favorite games among the women in our group: Make Leo Blush.

She pulls him into a tight hug and does a double kiss, one on each cheek. As she lets him go, she shoots me a strange look across the room.

“Hello,” Leo says to me, dropping his own box of croissants on the buffet.

I chuckle. We’re being so dorky.

He sits across from me at the table. Someone asks him about work. Someone else makes him pass the jam. Helene butters a croissant for him.

Leo is just his sweet old self.

But he’s wearing my stuff. No one knows his actual clothes are spinning around in my washing machine. No one knows he slept in my guest room. No one knows that last night, in my basement, he let me tie him up, naked, to my cross.

No one knows that under his wholesome exterior, he’s wearing my panties.

Every once in a while, he looks up from whatever conversation he’s engaged in. Our eyes meet. I smile. He bites his lip.

When Helene’s roommate offers him a mimosa, Leo silently checks in with me. I give the smallest shake of my head. 

“Thanks, but I’m driving later,” he declines, ever so polite.

I hide my proud grin behind my glass. Let’s not make a habit of involving alcohol in our dynamic.

Brunch is well underway when I find myself fetching a clean glass from the kitchen. I hate drinking milk from the same glass I used for orange juice. I hear footsteps and turn to find Helene slipping in behind me.

“Hey, you,” she says. “Got a minute? I’ve been trying to catch you alone all morning.”

“Sure thing.” I lean against the counter, bracing for whatever needy request I already know is coming.

Helene checks over her shoulder to make sure we’re out of earshot. She lowers her voice.

“I’ve really been in the mood for some playtime lately,” she purrs.

There we go. The Helene cycle. I can’t hold it against her, though. I keep indulging.

“I thought you were seeing a guy.”

She sighs.

“Yeah, but he’s hopelessly vanilla. I’ve learned my lesson about trying to turn his type into Doms. And I’m pretty sure he’d be okay with you and I playing as long as it’s platonic.”

Well, at least some of our past discussions stuck. I can’t help but notice the irony of having my own vanilla boy toy sitting in her living room right now. But that’s different. Leo was just waiting for the right person to pluck him.

“Circumstances have changed for me. I… met someone. I think.”

Helene positively beams up at me. “Is that why Leo smells like your shampoo?”

“That’s none of your business.”

She winks at me.

“Relax, your secret is safe. Besides, it’s not like you’d actually sleep with a human being.”

“You’re forgetting yourself, young lady.” I know exactly what tone to take with her.

Her pale face takes on the most precious shade. She’d look good, tied up to Leo while I spank their asses red. Dammit. I’m too weak.

“I can’t promise anything. But if you guarantee it’d stay above the belt and you’re not looking for more, I’ll think about it.”

“You’re the best,” she squeals, launching herself around my neck.

Leo seems to share the sentiment when I return to the living room. His eyes are on me as he pulls out the chair next to him. Maybe they’re right. I’m pretty cool.

“Having fun?” He sounds so innocent. Definitely not ready to have someone else involved in a scene, not by a long shot.

There’s a delicious amount of training in our near future.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Our exit is sloppier than our masterfully executed entry. Whatever. Our friends are getting buzzed.

“Still up to spend the rest of your Sunday at mine?” I ask as Leo pulls away.

He nods enthusiastically.

“I’m super wound up.”

I chuckle. “The panties are having this much effect on you?”

Leo slaps his forehead.

“I actually forgot I had them on. No, I just can’t stop thinking about last night. And this morning, too.”

“Good.” It feels like a weight is lifted off my chest. “I still have a lot of stuff to show you.”

“I figured. Also, I have some catching up to do.”

I feel my brows furrow. We’re approaching dangerous territory.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Orgasm-wise.” He clears his throat. “It feels selfish that you made me cum and I didn’t do anything for you.”

Crap. I really wish we could have avoided this exact topic a little longer.

“Listen. If we’re going to keep playing, I need to trust that you’re able to tell me when something is off for you. And in exchange, no matter how much of a people-pleaser you are, you should trust that I’m taking what I want from you.”

“I’m not a people-pleaser,” he protests.

“You are. A desperate one, at that. But it’s part of your charm. Just keep in mind what our roles are, okay? If I wanted sex from you, we would have slept together last night.”

Way to go, Willow. What happened to baby steps and all that? I panicked, and now there’s the same look I’ve seen on so many men’s faces in my life. Like I’ve rejected him.

I reach out and rest my hand on his arm.

“Usually when I start playing with someone new, I have a detailed talk about dos and don’ts. But you and I skipped a lot of steps on account of, I don’t know, knowing each other for a decade. Let’s just have fun today, and if you’re still willing to indulge me after that, we’ll have the adult conversation. Okay?”

“Sure.” 

I just peer at his profile for a while. He stares at the road.

“Can you tone down the bruised ego bit a notch? I sucked your cock. This has to count for something, right?”

Finally, a smile. 

Leo takes us back to my place in relative silence. Or is it comfortable silence? Hard to tell. His brain is probably picking apart every word I said. Good, he should be thinking things over.

My hand stays on his arm the whole way, even as I fumble with my phone in the other. His car is still parked in my driveway. I could get used to that sight.

I grab his hand as soon as we’re out and manage to keep the giddy little bounce out of my step while I lead him back inside.

The door closes behind us, giving me a second to look him over. He’s safely back in my house, even after last night. 

“Alright,” I say, fake casual tone firmly in place. “Clothes off now.”

Leo has the gall to roll his eyes. 

“My mom told me not to get naked in weird ladies’ homes.” He still obeys, obviously. 

“That doesn’t apply if you’ve spent the past ten years going shirtless at the slightest opportunity.”

The shirt I lent him is already rudely discarded on the floor. I don’t let his flat stomach, or the hint of a bulge in his pants, distract me from what is an eminently teachable moment.

“Pick that up.” It’s the sternest I’ve ever sounded with him. It gets his attention. “I don’t like messy boys. You’re not messy, are you?”

“No,” he answers, hurrying to bend over and grab the T-shirt. 

With one leg still caught in his shorts, it is not exactly graceful. He hops once, catches himself on the wall, then finally manages to step free.

I reach down and open one of the little compartments in the console table. There’s barely anything in it, just a few candles and a lighter. In a few seconds, I have the junk moved to the next compartment, leaving one clean shelf.

“You can use this.” 

I turn back to face Leo. 

The sight of his naked body, clothes neatly folded over his arm, makes me lose my words. But only for a beat.

“Let’s say that whenever I ask you to get naked, and we’re not in the playroom, your clothes go here.”

Can he tell how much some of this is just me winging it? 

“You’re already clearing space for me?”

The little brat.

I swat his bare bottom. Not hard, just enough to get a nice sound out of it. Leo jolts, then skittishly places his clothes on the empty shelf.

Much better.

“Ready to have a fun afternoon with your favorite friend?” I ask, playing it up.

He chuckles.

“Yup.”

“Well, me too.” I reach for his face and trace my finger along his jaw. His shoulder gives a visible little shiver, which would be adorable if not for the scratchy rasp of stubble under my touch.

I sigh.

“Unfortunately, I have to take care of this first.”

He opens his mouth. I hold up a finger.

“Go sit at the kitchen table. I’ll be right back.”

I ignore the pull of the basement door as I head upstairs. There’s a hundred different things I’d love to use on him down there. But today is not about indulging myself. That will come later.

Provided I don’t scare him back to vanilla-land. 

So, reasonable as ever, I grab my razor and shaving cream from the shower stall. Leo is sitting upright in one of my mismatched wooden kitchen chairs. He actually helped me carry this one back from a thrift shop a few years ago. Precious.

The sun comes in through the back window, making the whole kitchen feel warmer. Leo looks annoyingly good under it, all smooth, golden skin and blonde hair. 

His smile as I step behind him is even worse.

“I was thinking,” he says, all cocky. “Isn’t it a bit unfair that I have to be clean-shaven?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean…” He blushes so hard he has to stop talking. “You let me look under your skirt last night.”

Was this an attempt to embarrass me?

“Who said that things were going to be fair between us?” 

I pull his chair back from the table, dragging him into the open and exposing what he was trying to hide.

"Besides, I’m not the one walking around with my little boner wagging.”

His cock gives an offended throb for him. Too easy. At least he stays silent while I get a bowl of warm water.

It feels surreal to just put my hands on him and cup his face to wet his cheeks. For a second, I congratulate myself on the fantastic shaving excuse before remembering I don’t actually need excuses anymore. 

I can just touch him. Bully him. Pamper him. 

“Water’s not too hot?” I ask.

“Feels nice.”

I slowly rub my hands down his cheeks, then to his throat. From behind him, my arms almost circle his head. I could pull him into my chest and keep him against me.

But the stubble doesn’t extend too far. Doesn’t mean I can’t roll my thumbs into muscle at the nape of his neck.

The plastic cap of the shaving gel clacks when I pop it off the metal can. I pour a small glob into my palm, lather it up into a thick foam.

“Smells good,” he purrs, apparently losing the use of articles for good.

“Nah, it’s too girly for you.”

“You put panties on me.”

“It’s different.” I put a small bean of foam on the tip of his nose. “They were my panties. This doesn’t smell like me, just girly.”

“Is this a new razor?” he asks quickly when I bring it to his face.

“I only use it on my legs.” When I remember, really. It’s basically new. I’m not about to let him know that, though. “Again, your cock was in my mouth. This is nothing.”

He shrugs, closes his eyes, then lets me pull his head back. It bumps against my stomach. The trust does something wonderful in my chest.

I start at his throat, dragging the blade up in one slow stroke. The little gel strip on the pink razor mixes with the shaving foam, leaving his skin soft and a little sticky under my thumb.

Not bad.

I rinse the razor in the bowl, then get back to work.

“I still don’t get how you’re the one doing stuff for me,” he says. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Doing stuff to you. Don’t get it twisted; this is for me.” I flick water on his face, making him scrunch his nose. “You really shouldn’t be talking unless you want me to nick you.”

That shuts him right up.

It turns out shaving a face is much harder than doing my knees. Still, I manage it without any nasty cuts. He’ll live, and more importantly, I have my soft boy back.

“All done.”

I bend over to press my lips to his forehead, earning a delighted little laugh. I wipe my thumb along his jaw one last time, then let my hands travel lower.

His chest is smooth. So is his stomach. And his crotch. 

“I get waxed,” he explains, deep crimson.

Are Leo and Helene long-lost siblings? I shake my head.

“Up. You remember where the cleaning supplies are?”

“Yup.”

“Then go earn your keep. The upstairs could use a little love.”

I slap his bare butt for good measure. 

A part of me would love to just follow him around and watch him clean my place. But once again, reason and practicality prevail. 

“You’re not allowed in the basement!” I shout.

“Wasn’t gonna!” he calls back.

Liar.

I unlock the door to the basement and climb down to get to my own chores.

Most doms I know hate this part, leaving it to their subs, but I’ve always liked cleaning my kinky stuff. There’s something soothing about putting everything back the way it belongs. Proof it happened.

I disinfect the Wartenberg wheel and violet wand. Wipe down the cross. Dust the shelves. A quick run of the mop over the tiles, and the playroom is back to its pristine standard.

Despite my best efforts, I can’t resist the pull of the display cabinet. I open the curtains and survey its contents.

Could Leo handle the plugs? From everything I know, blushy, innocent Leo has been around the block when it comes to men. The vanilla block, of course, but still.

I pick up a metal chastity cage. It’s heavy in my hand. The image it creates in my mind is going to come in handy for my next attempt at an orgasm. Bath, next Tuesday, if I remember correctly. I’ll have to check my calendar.

But his cock will have to remain free until we have a proper boundary discussion. Besides, this one doesn’t fit his aesthetic at all.

The thin black leather collar feels perfect. No studs or ring. No need to overthink this. I slide it into my pocket and climb back to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Leo asks behind me after a while. The clattering of utensils must have drawn him down here.

“Cookies.”

“Can I help?”

“Are you done cleaning?” I ask, rifling through a cupboard in search of the chocolate chips.

He chuckles. “I did my best, but the place is already spotless.”

“Only spotless?” I egg him on.

“You shouldn’t fish for compliments. Makes you sound desperate.”

I turn. He’s just standing there, naked. This feels magical. I probably stare too long, because he ends up covering his swelling cock with his hands. Little too late, buddy.

“C’mere.”

He hesitantly crosses the distance, stepping right into my reach. Grabbing his shoulders, I spin him around.

“What’s that?” He wriggles, trying to look down as I place the collar around his throat.

“Don’t move,” I chide. The knee to the back of his thigh does the trick. “It’s a collar.”

He reaches up, brushing the leather and getting in my way. Still, a few seconds later, it’s in place, and I slide two fingers under it. Just loose enough.

I’m a great domme.

“Does that mean you’re my mistress or something?”

Okay. In this instance, I’m a great domme who forgot how little my very vanilla best friend knows about this stuff.

“It’s just a play collar, doesn’t mean much.” I kiss his neck, right below the clasp. Then, on my tiptoes, I press a second kiss to his smooth jaw. “For now I’m just your friend who thinks you look cute with leather on.”

“Oh, right.” 

Does he sound disappointed? Fantastic.

“Listen,” I begin. “I know we need to have that conversation. But it’s Sunday, and I just want to have fun. Are you still good with that?”

“I really want to.”

“Good.” I kiss his ear, then whisper. “I’m going to play with you, and bully you. As your friend.”

Carefully, I circle one arm around him and let my hand drift down to the smooth skin just above his cock. I can feel the heat of his erection on the back of my hand.

“And this little guy is going to eat it up.”

His stomach tightens under my touch. I can feel the bumps of his abs, all that defanged strength trapped under my fingerpads. Somewhere out there, some perfectly normal girl let this sculpted, ideal son-in-law wander into my clutches.

“Alright, that's enough teasing.”

I step back and return to my cookies.

“Go pick a movie in the living room. I’ll join you in a minute.”

It takes a bit more than that. But soon the dozen or so little dough balls are safely tucked inside the oven. I wash my hands and head for the living room.

Val Kilmer, in a ridiculous wig, welcomes me from the TV.

I sigh. The bane of my childhood and the longest-running gag in our friend group. Every movie night, someone puts on Willow before the actual movie. No wonder I turned out to be a sadist.

“You think you’re funny?” 

On the couch, Leo can barely suppress his smirk.

I drop next to him like a stone.

“What did you actually pick?”

“Shrek 2.” He fiddles with the remote and the storybook intro pops onto the screen.

“Aww,” I coo. “I’ve been wanting to rewatch that for an eternity.”

“Turns out I kinda know you,” he says, sounding smug.

He’s pushing it.

I place both hands on his cheeks and pull his face to mine. He welcomes the kiss, mouth opening when my tongue pushes past his lips.

“That’s very sweet,” I whisper, breaking away. “But I don’t know what made you think you’re allowed on my furniture.”

“Huh?” 

He sounds genuinely perplexed.

The sharp shove to his chest doesn’t help with his confusion as he tumbles onto the thick rug between the couch and my coffee table.

I catch a nice little view between his cheeks as he rolls onto his knees.

“That was mean,” he whines.

“Hush. I’m watching the movie.”

“Am I supposed to just stay on the ground?”

His blonde hair is right within scritches range. They soften his pout. I want to invite him back onto the couch to cuddle. But also keep him as a footrest? I’m having a weird day.

“You can hug my leg,” I offer, ever compromising.

Leo takes my words to heart. He wraps his arms around my knee, pulls himself against my calf, and lays his head in my lap. My foot ends up between his thighs. I can feel his hard and hot cock on my ankle.

I flick my heel into his soft balls. Quick, but sharp enough to make him yelp.

“No humping.”

“Sorry.”

Shrek 2 holds up better than you’d think. For a while, I barely have to think about the current situation, I can just happily follow along with the animation, fingers playing with soft hair.

He clearly can’t stop thinking.

“Did you plan last night?” he asks from my lap.

“Not really. I’ve imagined it before. A lot. But I wouldn’t say planned.”

Wow. Kudos for honesty, Willow. This was not easy.

“It’s crazy.” His voice is surprisingly steady. I’d pay a little fortune to be able to see his face right now. “Never thought I’d be into something like that, but now it feels super natural.”

“Well, I’m a really good domme.”

I feel his shoulders shake faintly from his laugh.

“There’s no way we’re ever able to go back to normal, right?”

“What makes you think that?” Don’t panic.

“You know what I mean. You tied me up. You tied me up naked and made me fuck your hand. There’s no coming back from that.”

Deep breath.

“I have plenty of friends I do kinky play with…”

Right on cue, my phone chimes. 

There’s no way. Helene has to have bugged my house. 

Her message is… very Helene. Just a collection of emojis: a cat with heart-eyes, a pair of footprints, a biting lip, a queen, a peach. It goes on and on.

What is up with her?

I can deal with that later. I have a naked sweetheart around my leg.

“But I don’t want to be just friends with you,” I say. I’m actually brave. “So I’m okay with things changing.”

Leo kisses my knee.

“Don’t go any higher,” I warn, the conversation from the car still looming in my head.

“What? No, of course, of course. Sorry.” He pulls back.

Way to kill the mood.

We go back to watching the movie in silence. Onscreen, everything is bright colors and fart jokes. Down here, I’m mad at myself, with only my fingers in Leo’s hair to keep me from making it worse. 

I wish he’d press his cheek back to my lap. I wish I could feel his skin on mine. Maybe I should take off my pants. No, you idiot. That would send the entirely wrong message. 

But I barely slept, and no matter how mad I am, my eyes keep closing here and there.

I’m alone on the couch when I wake up. Where’s Leo? 

I jolt right up, wildly scanning the room.

A pair of green eyes stares at me from the kitchen’s doorframe, full of surprise.

Leo’s still wearing nothing but the play collar. He’s got a plate of fresh cookies in his hands.

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, with a teasing smile. “You fell asleep for a while. I remembered the cookies just in time.”

He sets the plate on the coffee table, and shoots me an amused look. I feel groggy. I’m not really used to a naked exhibitionist judging me.  

“Be right back,” he says, dashing to the kitchen.

I hear him messing with the cupboards. Should I go check? Nah, he’s an adult. I unpause the movie.

A few minutes later, Leo reappears with two steaming mugs.

“Hot chocolate?” 

He nods.

I groan. He even added mini-marshmallows.

“You’re the best.”

Obediently, he kneels back at my feet. I straighten up on the couch, grab the plate, and settle back against the cushions.

I balance the cookies on the armrest, then pat my lap.

“Up,” I call. “Across my lap. On your stomach.”

Enthusiastic as he is, he still needs a little help figuring out the logistics. With me in the middle of the couch, his hips end up over my thighs, his crotch resting in my lap while the rest of him stretches across the cushions.

It leaves his butt nicely raised.

“Comfy?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“You’ve been so good you’ve earned a reward.”

“Let me guess. It’s cookies?” he cuts in, sounding a little blasé. 

Well, he just sealed his fate.

I use one hand to break off a bite of warm cookie. The other goes to rest on his butt, making him shiver at my touch.

“You remember the safe word from last night?”

“Red. Or I can just tell you to stop, and you’ll listen.”

“Good, because you’ve been entirely too bratty today. And brats need to pay for their cookies.”

I knead his cheeks, pulling them apart, revealing his little hole. Should I send him upstairs to douche? No, that would ruin the moment; I’ll get in there soon enough. Instead, I bring the piece of cookie to his lips.

“Do you want your reward?” I ask, fingers tracing along his cleft. “Won’t be cheap.”

“Yes.”

It’s hard to pull my hand away from his crack, but we all have a job to do. I wind up my strike, then land a hard spank right in the middle of his ass. Not just something to make a nice noise, I put some strength in it, his butt jiggles.

Leo presses his pelvis into my lap, and I have to steady him as he squirms from the sudden pain.

“Shh,” I hush him, pressing the cookie between his lips. “There you go. Good boy.”

He moans around my fingers as I set the bite on his tongue, only letting him have it properly once he settles.

“Fuck.” 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” 

I follow with a second spank, and a second piece of cookie. He tries to shield his ass with his hands, but I easily bat them away, forcing him to fold his arms under his chest. 

He trembles on top of me, I keep striking, eventually working my way through a full biscuit. My strikes are precise enough that the shape of my fingers starts swelling over his ass. I want him to think about me all day at his desk tomorrow.

“One cookie down. I feel like you could go for seconds. What do you think?” I ask, carefully rubbing the bruise I’ve created. 

Leo babbles something.

My palm is starting to sting too. I could try alternating hands, but he’s barely able to talk, so switching places might not work.

“I need you to use words, baby,” I insist.

“A second one,” he whispers into the couch.

I kiss the back of his head. Then slam my hand right on top of the red mark.

“You really shouldn’t act this bashful,” I say, offering him his hard-earned treat. “Today I’m feeding you cookies, but next time it’ll be a dildo. Or my fingers.”

Another slap, another thrust into my thighs.

“Maybe I’ll feed you cocks and pussies, too. If I feel like it.”

He groans.

“In your greedy little mouth.”

I spank him again. Then feed him. He almost bites my fingers, but I don’t hold it against him.

“Or in that hungry hole of yours.”

Warm wetness seeps into my leggings. I really should have taken them off, feeling his pre-cum on my bare thighs would have been perfect proof that I have him exactly where I want him.

“I’m going to make you the goodest, most obedient slut. I’ll keep you well-fed and well-fucked and all you have to do is listen to me.”

And just like that we’ve already reached the end of the second cookie.

“Such a brave boy. You ate the whole thing for me.”

I just run my hands over his sweaty back, his tense legs, his messy hair. I avoid his raw cheeks and just let him breathe out the adrenaline. Despite his wounded bird act, I can feel his trapped erection press into my thighs.

“Flip around, baby.”

Leo’s eyes are surprisingly clear as he obeys. It makes me hungry, I want to see tears in them. I’ll be patient. 

A sticky string breaks off between the tip of his cock and my leggings. He winces as I help him sit in my lap, his arm wrapping around my waist while I hold him against my chest.

“My ass is killing me.”

I kiss his cheek, his nose, his forehead. 

“I’ll rub some aloe on it. You took it so well. I’m so proud.”

He chuckles but doesn’t hide his face like last night.

“Proud?”

“Don’t ruin my fun. Now shut up and jerk off.”

This finally unsettles him.

“What?”

I point at the throbbing cock between us.

“I wanna watch you jerk off. Chop-chop.”

I grab his free hand and spit in his palm.

He rolls his eyes, reaches for his erection. It almost disappears in his grip, so short and elegant.

It barely takes a few seconds for his motion to make a lewd, squelching noise. He won’t last long. Especially not if I keep shoving my tongue in his mouth like that. I can feel his moans on my lips.

“Good boy. Don’t fight it.”

I reach around him and grab his mug. Yesterday was the first time I ever saw him naked, ever saw him aroused, yet I can already predict the exact moment he reaches his orgasm.

He doesn’t resist as I steal his cock from his grasp. I bring the hot chocolate right below his tip, and milk him into it, forming big globs on the surface.

“You’re nasty,” Leo snickers. Still, he doesn’t move away from my arms and accepts the mug when I place it in his hand.

“Don’t be naive. You really thought you’d cum for free?”

He shrugs, and keeping his eyes on mine, takes a deep sip of the cummy drink without a hint of disgust.

I try not to show just how baffled I feel. Wow. Fascinating.

“You’ll need to find a better punishment next time. I swallow.”

Marry me.

“Where’s all the sass coming from? You were so cuddly last night and now you’re bragging about how much of a slut you are.”

Leo’s brain finally catches up with his body and his confession. He shivers, blushes, then finally buries his face in my neck. That’s more like it. I pet the back of his neck and take the mug away from him so he can wrap both arms around my waist.

“You’re so silly.”

He whimpers against my skin. This feels like a big drop from whatever bratty wave he’s been riding. Poor thing. I lick his earlobe.

“Feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” comes his voice, sliding down my chest. 

“Had fun?” I press.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not super enthusiastic. I’ve had the best weekend in ages. Not that you’ve asked.”

He hugs me tighter. Pretending that I’m mad at him while his mind is peeling off his brain might not be the best move. 

“I think I’m ready for the adult conversation,” he admits in a small voice.

“Well, I’ve got a work trip this week.”

Leo whines, face pressing between my boobs. 

“Don’t be dramatic. It’ll give us an opportunity to talk on the phone without all my nasty impulses getting in the way.”

“You’re not nasty.”

“Such a gentleman.” I shake my head. He really is sometimes. Or my bar is just that low. “Let’s say without our genitals getting in the way. Better?”

“Sure.”

“And then, once you’ve had time to think through what you want and what you can handle, we can have the kinkiest, perviest weekend right back here.”

I give him a few seconds to answer. But nothing happens; he just stays tucked against me, breathing into my chest

“Still alive?” I nudge him.

“You’re not nasty,” he finally concludes.

I chuckle. Okay, he’s had enough.