34. Calm Emotions #3
At some point he asks again.
Green.
Again.
Green.
Then he enters me.
Slowly.
Pressure becomes stretch.
Stretch becomes heat.
Then him.
Ronan.
Inside me.
I make a broken sound around the gag.
He freezes.
“Color?”
Click.
One.
“Good.”
More.
Slow.
My body adjusts.
Thoughts try to rise.
But they can't get traction.
There isn't enough space.
Ronan fills too much of it.
His hand on my hip.
His other hand on my stomach.
Voice soothing me.
“You don't have to do anything.”
I breathe.
“Nothing to solve.”
My eyes sting behind the blindfold.
I don't know why.
“Just take me like the good boy you are.”
Fuck.
He moves.
Every nerve lights.
Then settles.
Then lights again.
Not frantic.
Not rough.
Controlled enough that my body stops bracing for what comes next.
Because nothing comes next.
This is it.
This movement.
This breath.
This second.
Ronan.
Again.
My head goes empty.
Actually empty.
Holy shit.
No tabs.
No music.
No words.
No jokes.
Nothing.
Just…
Ronan's hand moving the sleeve over my dick.
Ronan's dick inside me.
Ronan's body.
Pressure.
Heat.
Voice.
“Such a good toy.”
I float.
Not gone.
I know where I am.
Could click if I needed to.
I don't.
My limbs feel far away.
Heavy.
Safe.
The orgasm builds without me chasing it.
That's the miracle.
Usually I run toward everything.
Tonight it finds me.
Ronan's voice gets lower. “You can let go.”
I do.
My body tightens around him.
The sound trapped behind the gag doesn't sound like me.
Doesn't matter.
Ronan holds me through it.
Doesn't stop stroking or talking.
“Good boy.”
Another wave.
“There you go.”
My fingers stay wrapped around the clicker.
“Fuck, watching you come is hot.”
He waits until my dick stops pulsing.
Then he destroys me.
“Now I need you to be a good toy and let me fuck you hard, okay?”
I moan around the gag as I click once.
Then he does.
And he lasts.
He braces on my thighs and fucks me for minutes.
Hours.
Days.
Fuck.
I’m floating.
When he groans, and I feel him pulse inside me, it’s like everything breaks.
Then quiet.
Real quiet.
Not silence.
Ronan breathing.
My own heart.
The faint hum of the basement.
But inside?
Nothing.
No bees.
No tabs.
No problem waiting for me to solve it.
I could cry.
Apparently my body decides that's an excellent idea.
Because my eyes are wet under the blindfold.
Great.
Fantastic.
Very dignified.
Ronan notices my breathing change.
Of course he does.
He withdraws carefully.
Then his hand touches my cheek.
“I'm removing the gag.”
Strap.
Cool air.
The rubber leaves my mouth.
My jaw aches.
Saliva immediately escapes down my chin.
“Sexy,” I whisper.
My voice sounds wrecked.
Ronan wipes my mouth with a cloth.
“You do not need to talk yet.”
“I literally always need to talk.”
“No, you don’t.”
Fair.
He massages my jaw gently.
Waits until I can swallow normally.
Water touches my lips.
Small sip.
Then another.
Only after that does he release my ankles.
Wrists.
Slowly.
One at a time.
Blood rushes back into muscles that weren't actually numb but apparently forgot they belonged to me.
I flex my fingers.
Ronan checks them.
Then the blindfold comes off.
Light.
His face is right there.
I blink.
He waits for my eyes to focus.
“Can you sit?”
“Probably.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes.”
He helps me upright.
My legs hang off the side of the table.
Everything feels floaty.
Soft around the edges.
Ronan stands between my knees.
Close.
Not touching until I reach for him.
I hesitate.
Because him.
Touch.
His rules.
His body.
He sees it.
“You may.”
That's all I need.
I lean forward.
Slowly enough he can track every inch.
My forehead hits his chest.
Then my arms go around him.
Ronan stiffens for half a second.
Then relaxes.
His arms close around me.
And apparently that's what does it.
The tears come for real.
Fuck.
I bury my face against his chest.
“This is embarrassing.”
“No.”
“I am crying naked on your bondage table.”
“Yes.”
“That feels objectively embarrassing.”
His hand moves slowly down my back. “You do not need to make this funny.”
My throat closes.
Asshole.
More tears.
Obviously.
“Fuck you.”
“Noted.”
I laugh and cry at the same time, which should be illegal.
Ronan keeps holding me.
No rush.
No demand that I explain.
Eventually words happen anyway.
“There were no bees.”
His hand pauses. “What?”
“In my skull.”
Ronan resumes stroking my back.
“There were no bees in my skull for like twenty minutes.”
“Closer to thirty-seven.”
I lift my head.
“You timed it?”
“Of course.”
I stare at him.
Then laugh.
His mouth curves.
Small.
Proud.
That's what I see.
Not smug exactly.
Proud.
Like he did something difficult and it worked.
Like I did something difficult and he noticed.
“You really shut me up.”
“Yes.”
“And my brain.”
“For a while.”
I take that in.
For a while.
Not cured.
Not fixed.
He didn't erase me.
Didn't make me less Dex.
Just gave me somewhere I didn't have to perform being Dex for thirty-seven minutes.
My chest gets tight again.
I point at him before more feelings happen. “Don't.”
“I have not said anything.”
He hands me the water again.
I drink.
By the time the bottle is half empty, my hands don't shake.
My breathing feels normal.
My brain starting back up, but gently.
Like lights switching on one room at a time instead of the entire building at once.
Music tomorrow.
Email.
Bar shift Thursday.
Micah upstairs.
All still there.
None of them need solving right now.
Huh.
Ronan checks my face. “Stable?”
I think about it. “Yeah.”
“Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Pain beyond expected soreness?”
“No.”
He nods.
Satisfied.
I look at him.
Then at the table.
Then back.
“Thank you.”
His expression softens.
“You're welcome.”
Too sincere.
Can't have that.
I pat his chest.
“Thank you, Dungeon Daddy.”
Ronan closes his eyes.
There it is.
Balance restored.
“I regret helping you.”
“No, you don't.”
He opens his eyes.
Unfortunately for him, I know that look now.
“No,” he says. “I don't.”
Then he kisses me again.