“You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Robin?” “Fuck,” I whimpered. “Say it,” Ben’s breath was hot against the shell of my ear. “Tell me what you are.” “I’m your good boy.” My voice broke, thready and soft. “And you’re beautiful, aren’t you?” “I’m beautiful.” I ached and ached and ached. Ben had so much power over me then, because of my unspoken feelings for him. Because of the way he was cradling me. Because of the pleasure he held, just out of reach. And yet…he was using that power to heal me, rather than hurt me. And I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.
