Bind

The aftershock of my orgasm milk him for every drop, even as his thrusts slow and he stills against me, his sweaty chest against my still arched and bound back. He's still panting when he begins to work and release my bindings. They fall away as he pulls out of me and turns me around, the three actions a fluid motion as smooth as a dance as my arms wind around his neck and his lips find mine.

"That was incredible," he murmurs into our kiss, "you did so well."

His praise is like honey between our lips, sweet and warm and sinking into me. My entire body is soft and pliant, and I cling to him even as I pull my lips away to pepper kisses across his jaw and throat. He walks backward the ten or so steps to the edge of the bed, pulling me into his lap as he sits and I continue to kiss his shoulders, kneading his back with my hands like a satisfied cat. He produces a blanket from the nest I'd made and wraps me in it.

"That was.. perfect." I sigh as I bury my head in his shoulder, my palms splaying across his back and dancing over every taut muscle, "thank you."

He smooths my hair and I feel his smile as he kisses the bridge of my nose. His fingertips trace the marks left by the rope, pressing and soothing them with the gentle pressure he knows I like. I idly hope they leave marks.

"No, thank you. Maybe it's not such a shit day after all."

The blank open notebook still rests on the bed, and my coffee is long cold. But suddenly my day of dreaming doesn't seem so wasted. Not when I've got everything I could ever need right here in this room. His arms are tight around me as I melt against his chest and together, we lean back into the comfort of my bed. We fit easily, our breathing coming in time as we settle into the peace of our afterglow and I am close to sleep by the time I find my voice.

"Maybe not," I agree with a soft smile.