"Did I… Was I good?" The single question emerged through his haze, vulnerable and raw.
"Yes," I assured him, something tightening in my chest. "You’ve made me very proud."
After administering pain medication, I guided Micah upstairs to my bedroom rather than the guest room. This shift marked another boundary crossed, another layer of intimacy granted as reward for his sacrifice.
"Let me take care of you now," I said, helping him undress.
He surrendered completely, allowing me to bathe him gently, keeping his bandaged hand dry. Water flowed over his skin, carrying away the antiseptic smell, replacing it with sandalwood and cedar from my personal soap. I dressed him in white silk pajamas and brushed his hair back from his face.
I caught myself imagining similar evenings in the far-flung future, just mundane moments of domesticity. The thought struck me as odd, yet satisfying, like discovering an unexpected harmony that completed a composition.
When I tucked him into my bed, his eyes reflected gratitude so profound it bordered on worship. I removed my clothes and joined him under the sheets.
"You've pleased me greatly tonight," I told him. The act of cutting into him, claiming a piece of him, had aroused me in ways impossible to hide. "Your sacrifice deserves a reward."
He understood immediately and quickly closed his lips over my nipple. Breath tickled my chest as he let out a soft sigh, clutching his moth with his injured hand. The other slid down my stomach, tracing the obvious arousal tenting the sheets.
My cock hardened further as he sucked. I stroked his hair, trying to ignore the need thrumming through me. Micah was in no shape for what I wanted to do with him. Not tonight. But my body clearly wasn’t getting the message.
“You were so brave,” I whispered and kissed the top of his head.
The words were both tactical and true. He had such an exceptional spirit, a rareness I hadn't fully appreciated until tonight. The adrenaline still coursing through me from the procedure heightened every sensation, his mouth against my skin electric and consuming.
"Stay with me like this." My hand slid down to cup his ass, pulling him closer. “Just let me look at you.”
He nodded and closed his eyes. The sucking slowed, but didn’t stop. The sensation of his lips and tongue around my nipple sent waves of pleasure through me that made the throbbing of my cock impossible to ignore.
A groan escaped me, my control slipping in a way it never had with previous subjects. I'd anticipated his physiologicalreactions, planned each step of his dependency, but I hadn't accounted for my own response to him.
My hand moved beneath the sheets, wrapping around my cock. The contact pulled another sound from my throat, half relief and half frustration. I began stroking myself, timing the movements with the pulls of his mouth.
Micah's eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded but aware enough to register what was happening. A small smile curved his lips around my nipple as he watched my face. Even in his weakened state, his awareness of his effect on me was evident.
"You need to come, Daddy?" he mumbled against my skin, and then licked and blew on my nipple.
The action nearly undid me. "Yes," I admitted, my pace increasing. "You make me need this."
That was the troubling truth. It wasn't just the violence, the thrill of the procedure that had aroused me. It was him. Specifically him. His surrender, his trust, his transformation under my guidance. The realization struck with alarming clarity as my orgasm built.
I'd created countless works, transformed numerous subjects, but none had made me lose control. The thought should have disturbed me more than it did.
His mouth worked more purposefully now despite his exhaustion, sucking rhythmically, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. My hand moved faster, pre-cum slicking my movements.
"Look at me," I commanded, needing to see his eyes.
He obeyed, gaze locking with mine even as his lips maintained their delicious pressure. The intimacy of that eye contact, the raw connection between us, pushed me toward the edge.
I came hard, the orgasm wringing a sound from my throat I didn't recognize. My release spilled hot over my hand and onto my stomach as waves of pleasure radiated outward.
Through it all, Micah watched me, his eyes reflecting satisfaction at having caused this loss of control. Even in his drugged, post-procedure state, he recognized his power over me. The realization was as unsettling as it was arousing.
As the final pulses subsided, I reached for tissues to clean myself. My hands weren't entirely steady, another indication of how deeply he had affected me.
Micah's lips finally released my oversensitive nipple with a pleased sigh. "I like watching you come," he murmured, the words slurring slightly as exhaustion reclaimed him. His hand reached out, fingers trailing through the mess on my stomach. The gesture was both innocent and intensely erotic.
"Sleep now," I told him, cleaning us both. "You need rest."
His eyes closed, his breathing deepening almost immediately. Yet his lips remained pressed lightly against my chest, maintaining our connection.
