Such a good boy.
Oh, those words were dangerous, like explosives packed into a brightly colored package, ready to go off. Obi didn’t like the way he felt when those words danced easily over his skin, a touch of lacy frost mingled with the burn of lightning. It was as if Master’s words were too much and not enough, all at the same time, and Obi found himself hungry for more. He wanted those appreciative stares, the bright smiles, and the little pats on the head. He was a good boy. A very good boy. He could show his Master that he was the best boy.
“You did so well, Obi.”
Obi bit back a pathetic whine, and his back arched against the too-plush mattress beneath him. It felt like his chest had somehow twisted into a hundred knots, threading and unthreading on each other, until he was a mess of tension od want . His head fell back into Master’s warm lap, and his fingers dug into the soft covers, nearly ripping the silk. No. That wouldn’t do. If he damaged something, Master could be upset, and then Obi wouldn’t be such a good boy .
Zen’s long, delicate fingers curled into Obi’s hair, brushing it from his eyes. He bent over and pressed a kiss to the scar just above Obi’s eyebrow, his thumb rubbing circles along Obi’s temple. How in the world did this feel so damn good? Obi panted and opened his eyes for a fraction of a second, looking into the ice-blue stare of his Master.
Zen smiled at him, his expression gentle as he pressed another kiss to Obi’s forehead. “You have been such a good boy. You did such a good job .” Zen’s fingers trailed down the planes of Obi’s face, tracing along the sharp edge of his jaw before pulling back. “I’m so proud of you.”
That feeling of heavy, heady tension filled his chest again, and Obi let go of a low, deep sigh, twisting his head in Zen’s lap. Master was still fully clothed, even though Obi was as naked as the day he was born, splayed out in front of him like a sacrifice for soft words and delicate praises. His muscles twitched as he felt another pair of slender hands slide up his side, bumping along old scars Obi wished he could forget. The familiar scent of herbs and gardenia swallowed him whole, and Obi pried his eyes open to see Shirayuki’s shadow hovering over him, a soft smile on her lips.
“You did the best out of everyone. You’re so strong and brave.”
She placed slow, open-mouthed kisses along his chest, and Obi’s fingers dug tighter into blankets beneath him, praying the fabric remained strong. He didn’t want to disappoint them. No, he wanted to be their very good boy. Outside the world was noise and unspeakable horrors, but in this room, Obi felt safe. And he felt loved - more than he ever had before. His head twisted in Master’s lap again as he let go of a soft breath.
“You are a very good boy.” It was as if his Master could read his thoughts, and Obi could feel shame stain his cheeks. He shouldn’t do anything to let his Master and his Mistress down. He was a good boy, Master told him so.
Zen’s hand drifted down Obi’s chest, tracing the gnarled scar with such love and tenderness, that for once Obi didn’t feel like he was the monster he considered himself. His hands didn’t feel so dirty and abused, and he felt… like he was someone worthy of this attention. Not that he deserved it, but that he had earned it. He was a good boy, and he would show both of them he could be. Shirayuki’s tongue lapped against a nipple, and Obi arched into her mouth, another whine escaping the back of his throat.
His stomach tightened as the pad of Zen’s fingers circled his other nipple, each stroke like the brush of a feather against his skin. Obi gasped as Shirayuki’s short fingernails caught in his pubic hair, her hand wrapping around the base of his aching cock in a slow, gentle push. He arched up into her hand out of reflex, but forced his hips back down to the mattress. A good boy waited for what he was given. He could wait.
“Obi…” Master’s voice was a low rumble against his ear, a promise for all the things he had yet to say. “Shirayuki says you’re a good boy, and you’re allowed rewards.”
Obi was panting as he opened his eyes again, looking up into Master’s face. Zen brushed Obi’s hair from his eyes, and smiled softly, pressing another kiss to Obi’s forehead. His hands slid down Obi’s neck, fanning out over his chest. Zen leaned over and gave Obi a long, slow kiss. His tongue traced Obi’s lips, feathering over him like a dancer’s skirt, and Obi sighed. He was a good boy.
His eyes shot open as Obi felt Shirayuki’s hot breath curl over the head of his cock, the tip of her tongue flicking out of trace his slit. He gasped and Zen pulled back, pressing his lips to the shell of Obi’s ear.
“Good boys take their rewards with grace and dignity.”
Shirayuki’s lips slid over the head of his cock, and Obi released the comforter to reach behind him, sinking his fingers into the sinewy flesh of Master’s hip. His grip was tight enough to bruise, and Obi knew he should release Zen before he got hurt, but he needed something to cling to. He needed something that felt real.
Shirayuki’s mouth slowly sunk down, until the head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. She shivered and wrapped her hand tighter around the base of him, a soft whine escaping the back of her throat. She seemed to be enjoying this just as much as he was, and Obi’s stomach fluttered at that thought.
“You are a good boy, Obi.” Zen’s fingers still toyed with his nipples, rolling them under the pads of his thumbs as he murmured into Obi’s ear. “Such a good, good boy.”
Obi’s head fell back against Master’s lap and he sighed, letting the slow rhythm of Shirayuki’s mouth and Master’s touch lull him into relaxation. Every muscle in his body somehow felt primed for release, and Obi bit back another whine. How could he believe anything other than what his Master and Mistress told him? How could he be anything less than a good boy? Their good boy.
He felt Zen smile against his ear, and Shirayuki pulled back from his cock, the palms of her hands hot against his thighs. Their words were like a siren’s song, pulling him deeper and deeper into their spell, never letting him free.
“You will always be our good boy.”
But… so what if he crashed on the rocks?