"You look stressed out."
My boyfriend's voice floats over to me, swirling into the background of my day. I'm on my second--third--fourth cup of coffee, my fingers threatening to shake from the caffeine. And yet, I'm barely getting anything done.
"...Did you hear me?"
I hold up a finger as I finish typing a sentence. It's been like pulling teeth all morning, my brain still so sluggish from the night before. I'd always struggled with being a bit of an insomniac, either being unable to sleep because my brain wouldn't turn off or unable to sleep because I was being plagued with nightmares. And while I'd learned long ago to accept that my brain hated me, I could never figure out why it hated my body, too.
What was the point of me being tired all the time?
"Just...one...more...thing..." I trail off, my eyes stuck on my screen. "Wait. Fuck. Did I just type the same thing twice in a row--"
Suddenly, my laptop snaps shut right in front of me.
"Hey! What the hell--" I finally look up at him, my expression narrowing. "I was right in the middle of that document--"
"You literally have auto-save turned on all the time."
"Still. You could've gotten my fingers!"
"You have incredibly fast reflexes." He grins. "It's impressive, really."
I cringe away from the compliment, my usual response.
With an eyebrow raised, he continues, "What's going on with you today? Something on your mind?"
Shit.
Here came the part where I had to tell him that my brain simply does not
work
. I'd somehow managed to hide that fact from him for a long enough time, pretending to be functional whenever we went out together, whenever he came over. But a few weeks ago his lease was up at his place and we decided it was time to try cohabitation. After a rather quick move-in period, things felt like they were snapping perfectly into place.
Except for the fact that I was still tossing and turning at night. It felt worse because he could fall asleep so easily, drifting off into it as soon as the lights were turned off. Sometimes, I'd watch him, envious about the simplicity of it--
"Princess. Come back to me." I could feel his palm gently cupping my jaw. At the same time, something warm bloomed in my stomach. "Where did you just go?"
"Uh..."
"That's not an answer, princess." He leans even closer to me. "Try using a complete sentence."
"I didn't go anywhere," I lie. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I sure that I'm fine?"
"Are you sure that you want to lie to me?" He sighs, his gaze lingering on mine. "Is that what good little girls do? Lie to their Daddy?"
Daddy.
My thoughts instantly turn fuzzy at the word, the littlest part of me threatening to surface. "I wasn't--I'm not--"
"There you go again. Not using your words." He moves away from me, his hands reaching out for mine. "Come with me."
"But I need to make more progress on--"
"Daddy's just going to put you down for a nap. That's all." His smile is warm. "And then, you can get back to it. Okay?"
"I can't."
"Because?" He presses a soft kiss against the back of my hand. "You're in a rebellious mood, princess? Because you hate making your Daddy happy?"
"Of course, I want to make my Daddy happy." Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes, emotion coursing through my chest. "But I can't. Yes, I'm very tired. No, I can't do anything about it like a normal person. That's just not how my brain works, okay?"
"...I know." His response is quiet.
"You know? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I know you, princess. I know how hard it is for you to get to sleep." He softly pulls me out of my office chair, so we're both standing up. "I can tell when you're tired and just trying to push through. And I can tell when you've been up since 3AM. I've spent a lot of time with you, you know. You think I haven't been keeping track of you?"
"Stalker," I joke. "Have you been keeping research journals on me or something too?"
He smirks. "Kind of. At least enough to notice a pattern."
"A pattern--Daddy!" He quickly pulls me towards our bedroom, cutting me off mid-sentence. A few seconds later, and my back is on our mattress, landing with a soft thud. I open my mouth to speak again but my words are cut off by Daddy's lips pressing against mine. He casually sets himself on top of me, his chest meeting mine too.
And then, I feel his hand shifting down between us, not stopping until his fingers are resting outside my panties, ghosting over my clit through the fabric.
"Do you know what I noticed about you, princess?" He keeps his voice low. "The only time you seem to ever get any rest is after Daddy has fucked you senseless."
I whimper at the revelation. "No--that's not--"
"Are you
really
about to lie to me again, princess?"
"I'm not that needy!" I blurt out, unable to stop myself. "I don't need--you don't have to always do that for me, Daddy. I can...take care of myself."
"Yeah? And how's that worked out for you, little one?" He slips his fingers underneath the fabric of my panties, now rubbing my clit in small circles. "A little girl like you trying to take care of herself without her Daddy...doesn't seem like such a good idea."