I See You

“Kneel.”

Just that one word, softly spoken in his commanding voice made me melt on the spot.

I wanted to kneel, wanted to do whatever he said, but I also wanted to see what he would do if I didn’t. He wouldn’t force me, I knew that. But I also knew that he knew that I wanted to obey him.

He knew that I loved his soft-spoken commands. The way they seem to glide over me, caress my skin and calm my mind. He was the only one who could do that. I was incapable of doing it on my own.

I kept my eyes on him, taking him in. He was gorgeous, tall-though not as tall as me- dark and handsome. I could lose myself in his eyes if I allowed myself to. They were green with specs of blue in them. I have never in my life seen such vibrant eyes like his. But that’s not why I loved them. It was because they were always kind and warm. Peering into his eyes felt like coming home after a long day at work. I could feel my muscles relax, the tension in my shoulders loosen a little bit. There is no doubt in my mind that by the end of the night, I’ll be totally calm and languid. He had that effect on me, on my body, on my fucking soul.

His lips quirked a little like he knew what I was doing and he loved it. Because he knew that he would win in the end. And he will. And by gods, I loved to lose to him. If I could freeze this moment and stay here for the rest of my life, I would, in a heartbeat. But I couldn’t and reality was waiting for me outside these four walls. My sad, lonely reality.

Shaking my head to remove these thoughts from my head, I watch him watch me. I continue to look at him as he slowly, teasingly removes his coat, like he has all the time in the world. As if I wasn’t dying for his touch, for his lips, for his words that could reduce me to a pile of goo right here on the living room floor.

Draping his coat on the back of his favourite armchair he calmly walks towards me. His hands in his pockets, he carried that air of arrogance and assurance that he always does. When he is assured that the world would bend over backward to meet his demands. When he knows he will get what he wants.

It’s fascinating and exhilarating to realize that he actually wants me. To see the evidence of his arousal because of me. It makes me feel like I’m his world, like I’m the only thing that matters, like I’m his. But it also makes me nervous, because I’m not used to someone wanting me for me. People always want me around for selfish reasons, either for protection or for money or sometimes even sex. But he’s different. I know it. And it scares me.

Watching him head straight towards me makes me twitch as if I were bracing for a fight.

He would never hurt me, I knew that. But looking at him and seeing all his focus trained on me, searching my face, reading my body language made me want to hide and barricade myself inside my ten-foot-high mental walls and tear myself open at the same time. It was disconcerting and I loved it. Loved him.

My gods, I loved him.

So much it hurt.

Looking at him hurt.

Because I knew this was temporary. I couldn’t have him. He wasn’t mine.

But fuck, how I wanted him to be.

I wanted to call him mine.

I wanted to do all the romantic shit that couples do. I wanted to hold hands and go on walks. I wanted to cuddle on the couch and watch shit movies. I wanted to argue about whose day it was to do the stupid dishes. I wanted to lie down in bed and wake up in the morning with him. I wanted to hear him snore and then watch him deny that he ever did. I wanted to watch the fucking sunset with him.

I wanted to watch his eyes sparkle with happiness and joy, that I put there.

God, how much I wanted that.

But I couldn’t have it and there was no need or space in my life for self-pity. So instead, I focused on him.

He was standing right in front of me. So close, I could touch him if I wanted to. Could kiss him if I bent my head just a few inches to the right. But I didn’t. I waited for him. Because I knew it would make him happy. And making him happy was the sole purpose of my life.

“Kneel, baby.”

Just hearing the word baby from his mouth, in his smooth as silk voice made my insides melt and my knees buckled to the ground.

This was how much power he had over me. He didn’t need to use force or threats to make me do his bidding. He just needed to look at me with those eyes and I’ll fold. One word and I would go against the world for him.

My face came level with his cock. He was straining against his pants and I wanted so badly to take him out, to worship him with my mouth. To feel him grow harder, to watch as his eyes darkened in arousal. So much so that the green of his iris would be barely visible. I wanted to feel his hand on my hair, gripping and pulling so that I knew who was in control.

I felt my hands twitch as if they wholeheartedly agreed and wanted to follow my thoughts. But I stopped and forced my hands into fists, clenching them until I could feel the nails cut into my palm.

“Open your hands.”

My fists immediately opened without any thought. When I was here, at his feet, I didn’t need to think. I could let go. And I knew that he’ll take care of me.

“Now place them palms up on your thighs.”

I was following him blindly. A distant part of my mind knew why he did this. He didn’t want anyone to hurt me, not even myself. And I loved him for it.

A few minutes passed like this. With my hand on my thighs, my gaze fixed on his crotch like a man watches a pitcher of water in a desert, and his eyes on me. I could feel him. Could feel as his eyes moved from my mouth to my throat, to my chest, coming to rest on my cock. Which was fully hard by now and desperate to get out of its prison.

Slowly, painstakingly I relaxed. I could feel myself loosen as we remained in this position. I needed this. He knew, and he gave it to me.

“Good boy.”

My eyes fluttered a little and I felt my cheeks grow warm in embarrassment. A little bit of happiness as well. I wasn’t a boy. Nobody who looked at me would ever call me a boy. But that is to be expected. I towered over most people and my muscles made me appear huge.

But hearing his praise did something to me. It made my chest feel light. It made me happy to hear his approval.

He stroked my hair, sliding his fingers through them. My eyes closed completely and I tilted a little bit towards him. I could practically see his soft smile in my mind. He liked how I gave into him, how I surrendered completely.

His hand drifted down and he gripped my nape, massaging gently. I loved when he did that and I could feel a rumble form in my chest.

Suddenly his hand disappeared and my eyes snapped open.

He walks to the couch a few feet away from me and takes a seat in the middle. I watch as he spreads his legs wide and throws his hands on the back of the couch. He looks like a king, ready to attend court and pass judgement.

To rule his kingdom.

Me.