Two out of ten

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“Oh, God, yes! Nnghh, shit, keep going, harder! Fuck! I’m, I’m … ahh!”

I’ve never been more grateful for working out as much as I do than I am right now. My heart feels like it is going to burst out of my chest, my skin is slick with sweat, and I am pretty much out of breath. Still, I keep grinding, all the way in, my hands grip the sheets beside you. Your insides squeeze my cock, clamping down, then releasing. It’s a maddening sensation. I can barely move. 

Finally, you collapse, chest dropping to the mattress, knees sliding outward. Our bodies are so sweaty that we stick together, your hair is a hot mess, and the marks on your hips are starting to bloom beautifully too. I’ve bitten you early in the game. Hard. Several times. On your neck and shoulder. Those bite marks will stay just like your scratch marks across my shoulders.

You’d teased me, insulted me, snapped at me until I snapped. Slammed your smaller body against the wall next to the bedroom door, grabbed your wrists. Exerting my authority. My power over you. 

“You little shit, don’t you dare raise your voice at me.”

“Or what? Huh? What would you even do? Not like you’d ever hurt me. You like me too much.”

Everything from then on had felt like a fight. Or foreplay. You’d shoved, scratched, slapped. Until I threw you on the bed and ripped your clothes off.

And now, here we are. You’ve fisted the sheets so hard that they came off the mattress and yet, throughout it all, you’ve mocked me so I would fuck you harder. So I’d hurt you.

Which I did, to a certain extent. The marks I left on you are proof of that.

Finally though, after my orgasm leaves me breathless, I drop on top of you. Your body sticks to mine. “Fuck …” I whisper, my vision still spotty with stars. My muscles keep contracting, balls tight against your ass. You’re full of me now, of my cock and come.

“That was … decent,” you finally say to review my performance. You’re breathless too.

“Fuck you.”

“Aw,” you chuckle as I slowly detach from you. I’m such a mess, but at least I didn’t come all over the sheets … like a certain someone. I roll over and spread out, staring at the ceiling while you lie still beside me. “You did quite a number on me, Daddy.” Your words make me smile. I heave in another breath, then look at you through my hazy vision. Your eyelashes are wet with a hint of tears, so are your cheeks. I move to tuck you against me. 

“You alright, puppy?” 

You nod and close your eyes. I taste your tears, first those on your right cheek, then the ones on your left. When you climb on top of me, I feel your release mingling with our sweat-slicked skin. Now you’re all cute, so different from just a few moments ago, demanding my attention, my aftercare. You sit up on my lap and I rise up too, my arms going around your waist. I place gentle kisses on your chest, then graze the bite mark on your shoulder.

“Did I hurt you badly?” I whisper between kisses, looking right at you. Your eyes are hooded and so, so dark.

“Yes,” you reply and smile, your hips rolling … getting us even dirtier with my come trickling out of you. “Hurt in the best way.” For a moment, I study your face, trying to figure out what makes you tick … how you can demand I hurt you one moment and then be so sweet the next. But I can’t figure you out. Ever.

Squeezing my arms around you, I catch your lips in a kiss that turns into an unrushed make-out session. I finally lie down again, never disconnecting, and pull you with me. Tongues brushing, teeth nipping. 

My hands descend to your tailbone and then up again, stroking your back until I finally break the kiss. I roll you onto your side next to me, tucking a strand of your dark hair behind your ear. A kiss to your nose, my thumb gliding across your cheek.

“My little puppy.” You sigh and bury your face in the crook of my shoulder, arms wrapping around me to cling to me. “Testing Daddy all the damn time.”

“You weren’t bad,” you snort and rub your nose against the crook of my neck. I roll my eyes.

“I was fucking amazing, thank you very much.”

I keep kissing your temple, stroking your shoulder, examining my bite mark there. It will bruise; I went a bit overboard. 

“Mh. I’d give it a two out of ten.” 

I swat your ass so hard you yelp and jerk away from me. “Hey! You’re supposed to care for me after all that damage you’ve done. It’s called aftercare.”

“Smartass.” I pinch your ass cheek, and you squirm against me, but I don’t let you go. 

“Settle down.” You do as I say, forearms against my chest, head resting on my biceps as I slide my arm under it. You keep huffing a little before you finally hook one leg across mine, settling down.

For longer than I would ever admit, I play with your hair, twirling it around, carding my fingers through it. It’s a bit damp at your scalp from our workout, but still so damn soft. We’re both a mess; I love it. Lowering my lips to your forehead, I kiss you there.

“How’s that?” I ask after a while.

“For aftercare?” 

“Yes.”

“Two out of ten …”