Teddy
FEbrUARY
“Repeat that for me?”
Straightening my spine, I look at Indie right in her beautiful blue eyes. She looks so pretty tonight, hair slightly curled from her hair appointment earlier, her makeup done in a way that highlights her skin and makes it shimmer.
I’m trying to keep my gaze on her face and not the mouthwatering sight of her on the bed, reclining on her elbows, in blue lingerie.
My brief glance gave me a peek at the lacy panties that cover the place I’m dying to taste, the beautiful soft swell of her breasts, and the peek of hard pink nipples through the sheer fabric.
Focus, Teddy.
Indie and I have begun dating again, and it’s honestly like we’ve picked up where we left off without missing a beat. There is a noticeable difference to me, however.
When we used to go out, I would feel confident that people would check out Indie, feeling secure that she’s loyal to me, but there was an undercurrent of me not feeling good enough for her. I think that came from not being truly happy with myself in my own life.
Now, though, I’m the person I should have been all along.
Not feeling like half a person anymore, and just lucky that Indie deigns herself to date me.
No, I’ve said it before, that therapy taught me that Indie deserves a whole person.
That Indie doesn’t complete me; she adds more color to my life.
Just as I do for her. When relationships aren’t balanced, resentment can build, causing problems if left unaddressed.
I feel like the Teddy my Nana and Pop would be proud of.
Because I’m proud of myself.
Last month, I started school.
That morning, Indie came over before work for breakfast. She even told me to stand in front of the fireplace like a kid on the first day of school as she took a picture. Then I pulled her toward me, and she took a picture of both of us, me kissing her cheek, her beaming at the camera.
Indie pressed a long kiss to my lips and told me, “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do amazing. You deserve to be there. Just be yourself, and everyone will love you,” she smirked. “And if they don’t—fuck ‘em.”
Walking into the art school was maybe the most terrifying thing I’ve done, walking into that classroom for Intro to Drawing. I was completely expecting to feel out of place amongst the stereotypical artsy types I had in my head.
Instead, I found a hodgepodge of personalities in my classes, and an age range from eighteen to sixty. One of my favorite classes I’ve been taking is Illustration, and I think it’s because of the teacher.
Mr. Monty is in his seventies, used to work in cartoons until everything got computerized, but says he still believes in good old pencil and paper. He wears tie-dye T-shirts and plays Bob Marley every Friday during free-draw time, calling it: “Gnarly Marley Fridays.”
Some other things that have changed over the months include Indie slowly but surely moving Nana’s things into the house—our house. She had to pay a fee to break her lease early, and we argued over who would pay it.
Indie said that since I bought the house and paid for the repairs, she can handle the fee.
I argued that it was my fault she had to break her lease in the first place, and I wanted to pay for it so she could be here with me.
It ended with us making out like teenagers on the kitchen counter and agreeing to split the fee, and both our names would be added to the deed.
We haven’t gone further than making out. We took things a bit slower on the physical side this time around. But we do sleep together. Sleep. And Indie admitted to me that that was most likely why she wasn’t sleeping well—because I wasn’t in the bed with her, snoring like a bear.
But tonight.
We’re ready.
It’s been a slow build of tension over the last few months. These small moments have accumulated into something huge, the way a pile of pebbles can become a mountain.
So when Indie and I were kissing on the couch, her grinding in my lap and allowing me to feel her heat against my cock, I stood abruptly and carried her upstairs. She squealed and laughed, but didn’t pull her lips from mine as I maneuvered us into the bedroom.
When I placed her on the bed, I knelt in front of her and, with her nod, pulled the straps of her pretty black dress down. She lifted her hips to help me pull it off, and then gave me that sexy grin as she leaned back on her elbows.
But instead of diving in, I stood up and stepped back all the way to the door.
“Tell me what to do,” I repeat myself, Indie shaking her head immediately.
“I don't want to be mean to you, Teddy,” she says, her voice quiet.
“I don’t want you to be mean to me either, honey,” I smile at her, knowing that she’s thinking about that night in Greece. “But I want you to tell me what to do. That’s what I liked—pleasing you. You taking control.”
Indie looks torn, eyes darting left and right like she’s thinking. “You want to try this… whatever this is?”
I nod eagerly. “Yes.”
“Then we need a safe word,” Indie says, her voice clinical and firm.
“I’ve been reading a little bit about it—mostly studies of abused children and how it shapes their dynamics in the future.
I fucked up in Greece—yes, I did, Teddy,” Indie points at me when I go to argue, and the tone in her voice has me snapping my mouth shut, with a smile on my face.
“But, you’ve been in therapy now for a while. You’re more healed than you were. And Dr. Meyer said she thinks you’re ready—yes?”
I nod.
“Okay. I will tell you what to do, if that’s what you want?” she asks me clearly, and I confirm with another nod. She gives me a look, “Out loud, Teddy. Always your words.”
My cock is already hard, and it twitches at that.
The mix of dominance and sweetness in her words almost makes me dizzy.
“Yes, honey…” I rumble. “I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to tell me how to please you—please tell me. I want to make you feel good.”
“Such a sweet bear. Will that make you feel good?” Indie asks, her voice dropping to a low purr, and her back arches on the bed, pushing her breasts out.
I swallow hard and barely suppress a whine.
“Yes, please…”
“The minute—the very second—you’re uncomfortable, you say it and it ends,” she says. “What’s the safe word?”
I think for a long moment before I smile. “Capybara.”
Indie snorts and drops her head back, exposing that long neck I want to gnaw on as she laughs.
“Of course. Okay,” Indie sighs. “You say capybara, and I will stop. I promise.”
“Yes, Indie,” I breathe, excitement pumping through my veins like an electric pulse.
I smile wide enough to crack my face.
This is Indie.
My caring, sweet girl.
My sexy, seductive nerd.
I fucking love her more than air.
“Are you still hungry, my sweet bear?” Indie asks, a hand trailing down her body, over her breast, and down to her pussy, where she gently rubs herself over the fabric. Her eyes go heavy, and her chest heaves as her breathing quickens.
A rumbling growl sounds from my chest, and my mouth fills with saliva that I have to swallow before I answer.
“I’m starving, baby,” I grit out. “Please, can I eat? Can I?”
Indie smiles and dips her hand inside her panties and smiles wider at my whine as she rubs herself in front of me. I’m practically vibrating where I stand, hands clenching into fists as I hear the sound of her wetness as she fingers her clit.
“How bad do you want me?”
“So bad, Indie, please…” I beg.
“You know what to do,” she whispers.
And I do.
I drop to my knees.
And I crawl toward salvation.
Slowly.
Indie’s eyes light up, “You look like a bear.”
“I’m your bear,” I rumble, finally reaching heaven.
She sits up for me, takes her hand out of her panties, and offers her fingers to me. They shine in the low lamp light, a string of wetness between her fingers. I catch her wrist and, keeping eye contact, bring the fingers into my mouth.
My eyes roll to the back of my head at her taste, after far too long.
I make sure to clean up every bit, licking between her fingers to get all of her juices.
She smiles at me, that sexy grin that lights my blood on fire.
When I pull her fingers from my mouth and eagerly wait my next instructions, bouncing a bit in my spot, she giggles.
“Undress me, Teddy bear,” she purrs.
“Fuck yes,” I mutter, making her giggle again as I reach behind her to undo her bra and pull it down her arms. When I see her bare tits, not just the side of them like in Greece, but her beautiful, full, pink-tipped breasts that fit perfectly in my hands, I practically lunge at her.
But she catches my chin between her thumb and forefinger before my mouth can descend. I freeze, my eyes raising to meet her twinkling blue eyes.
She has a brow raised and a small smirk on her lips.
I gulp.
“Did I say you could suck my tits yet?”
Holy. Fuck.
My eyes widen.
My cock strains almost unbearably against the zipper of my dress pants.
It’s the most wonderful ache I’ve ever felt.
And my body feels like it’s on fire from her words.
I need this. I need to be told what to do, I need Indie to tell me what to do, and I need her to correct me when I become too overzealous.
Just like she needs me to balance her out, to take care of the things she doesn’t have to hold onto herself, to share the load of her life, to allow her the opportunity to have control.
We are a balance.
We fit each other perfectly.
Suppressing my grin, I shake my head. “No, you didn’t.”
Indie leans forward, torturing me with the way her breasts bounce from the movement as she leans in to place her mouth at my ear, and hums in a throaty, raspy voice. “Naughty bear.”
“Oh, fuck…” I groan.
My eyes fall closed, and I have to reach down to pinch the end of my dick, worried I’m going to cum in my pants. She giggles against my ear, before nibbling it, and I swallow hard. The energy running through me feels charged in the best way. “I’m sorry, honey…”
“Hmmm… you’re forgiven,” she smirks. “Ask me nicely, Teddy bear.”