A Love Letter to My Sub

It's a Wednesday. The shittiest day of the week. It's endless. You're tired, people won't fuck off, and you've been too busy dealing with all that shit to message me more than good morning. You hate that. You hate days that force you far away from what makes you happy.

Tired, and sick of the world, you walk to your car in the cold and dark, smoking a cigarette and wishing you were anywhere else but this place.

You reach your car and there's a note stuck to the windshield.

"Close your eyes" is all it says.

Suddenly, everything seems brighter, clearer. You close your eyes and take a sharp, ragged breath in. "Thank god" you think into the foggy void of your brain.

Small soft arms wrap themselves around you from behind, a forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. Your shoulders drop as all the muscles you use to carry the world relax, but conversely, the muscles in your stomach, under those small hands, contract, like they're trying to pull those hands in closer.

"Oh my love", I say, "You've had a hard day, haven't you?"

With no permission to speak, you can only nod, as I slowly stroke your chest and stomach.

"If I let you turn around, do you promise to be good? You may only touch my hair and face."

Another nod, and then you turn and I immediately bury my face in your neck. Your hands are twitching. You want to hold me, and stroke me, and love me with those hands. Your need is a flavour on the air. But you are my best most patient boy.

You let me cuddle you and rub myself against your chest like a cat, until I slide my hands up the back of your shirt so I can gently stroke your skin. I tilt my chin up at you, permission and a demand for kisses, and you tunnel your hands into my hair and kiss the breath out of me. My hand ends up in the front of your shirt, pressed against your heart, as you kiss me, your hands guiding my head to the perfect position for your tongue to have full access to the sweetest mouth you've ever kissed.

I'd had every intention of taking you home and drawing this out, wringing you dry and mindfucking you into oblivion. I'd prepared toys and straps and restraints, because you always deserve all of the effort I have.

But you kiss me like a drowning man today, like only my mouth can save you, and even five minutes more of you having to wait is intolerable.

So I tell you to unlock the car and get in, when you finally pry our mouths apart to take a breath.

My poor tired love.

With glazed eyes and swollen lips, it surprises me that you can even get hard right now. But I've trained you well, so why I'm surprised I don't know.

You sit in your chair and just look up at me. "Everything's okay my love, just let me take care of you okay?" I say, as I lower the backrest of your chair. All the breath sighs out of you as you relax into the surety of my will. I am so lucky, you make me feel so proud. I

remind you gently that you may touch my hair and face, as I kneel by the car and unzip your pants. And there it is. The most beautiful, perfect cock in the whole world. Ringed and hard and mine.

You are usually the one praying, but placing my mouth around the head of that cock feels like a prayer to me too. Your whole body jerks as I gently suck and lick the tip of your cock, drawing it deeper into my mouth. Your hands come up, tunneling back into my hair, and I am suddenly so wet, so aching for you that it makes me moan.

Deeply impatient now, I surprise you, quickly choking down the entire length of your shaft, making you jerk again. You've accidentally pulled my hair, and while I'll make you apologise for that later, I secretly love it so much, that it spurs me on to suck you down harder, deeper, faster.

One hand on your chest holding you down and the other stroking your balls, the pulsing between my legs gets more insistent with every sound you make.

I need you. I need you to come for me. I need you to fill me, I want your release on my tongue and I want it now.

So I reach up and wrap a hand around your throat, and every time my mouth takes in all of you, I squeeze.

Over and over, until the blood is roaring in your ears and your orgasm is barreling into my waiting, eager mouth.

You are perfect, and you taste so good that even when I've swallowed it all, I'm still gently sucking on the head of your cock, listening to you moan as I lave my tongue across your oversensitive tip.

No talking is needed when we're done. I lay my head on your lap as we catch our breath, and we sit quietly together in the silence and sounds of a world that is no longer quite so shitty.

If I thought it would make any difference, I would suggest to you for the thousandth time that you go spend a couple of hours with your friends doing man things, but I know most of the time you just want to be home, where you can be yourself. So I kiss you goodbye and tell you I'll see you there.

My mind is already far away as I'm standing, thinking about the bath I'll run as soon as I get home. Our home is small but our bath is huge, which is exactly as it should be.

You grab my wrist as I turn to leave and the shock of it, you touching me when I specifically did not allow it, brings the world back into focus like a rubber band snapping. You are looking up at me, with such complex emotion on your face I couldn't begin to decipher it.

"I love you" is all you say.

I can feel the smile blooming on my face, the one that's only for you.

You don't need me to say it back, you've never needed to hear it from me, so I lean down and kiss you gently, and send you on your way. It's never hard to say goodbye now. Wherever you go, it always leads back to the same place, and that place is home.