The Muse's Undoing

“Is this a test?” he asks.

I don’t want to say yes. Mainly because I hate to think I have to make him prove he’s devoted to me, but he was gone a long time. A long fucking time, and all I have to tie him to me is his word.

He said he wouldn’t hurt me, but he never said he wouldn’t leave. He made himself believe I didn’t need or want him once before. I can’t have him thinking that again. I hold out my hand, “Do this with me.”

He casts another glance around the room, but I keep my eyes on him. He reaches for me, and I pull him into the room, closing the glass door behind us. Inside, the glass is more reflective than outside, but I can still see through it to the club. Just not as clearly as the view from the other side of the wall.

“You want to tell me what we’re doing here?” he asks.

I crowd him, using both hands to tuck his hair away from his face.“There’s something I want to show you,” I say. I had an image while I was at my place yesterday without him. Call it a vision—inspiration.

“I’m not sure I like that look in your eyes.”

“All I ask is for you to keep an open mind.”

“I’m trying,” he says with a nervous smile.

I take a long, slim case out of the side pocket of my backpack.

“What is that?” he asks.

“Get undressed, and I’ll show you.”

He glances at the glass wall again. “You want me naked?”

“I do, and I’ll join you so you don’t feel lonely.”

“Fuck. This better be good.”

I smirk.

I put the case on the bed and undress while I watch him do the same. He looks like he’s getting ready for a physical exam, proceeding systematically from top to bottom and folding his clothes neatly as he goes, putting them on an upholstered bench that probably does more than meets the eye.

Naked before he is, I grab my own lube from my backpack rather than the community lube on the bedside table. Walking to the bed, I open the case and examine my small collection. I select the slimmest rod. It’s delicately beaded and nine inches long.

“What the fuck is that?”

I turn to look at him. He’s limping my way with his boxer briefs still on. I put a hand on his waist. “I’ve noticed you get really squirmy when I mess with your slit.”

“Oh…Jesus.”

“Now do you know what this is?”

He blinks those mirror eyes, but they’re wide with trepidation.

“You trust me?” I ask.

He nods.

I climb onto the bed and make myself comfortable against the leather cushioned headboard, noting the cuff restraints on each corner. Another vision comes, but I file it away for later.

“Come here.” I pat the space I’ve left available between my bent, spread legs.

With one final glance over his shoulder at the glass no one’s looking into, he crawls to me, moving like a goddamn panther. I admit, I’m used to seeing a hitch in his gait, so this smooth approach does something salacious to my insides. And my cock, which he notices and dips his head to kiss. Before he can start sucking me, though, I pull it away with a laugh. “Nice try.” Patting my chest, I tell him to lean back and get comfortable.

He sighs, turns around, and does as he’s told, winding up like that first night we spent together when he came home. Funny, sometimes, when I think about how innocent I was pretending to be.

“Hold the end, it’s been sterilized.” I hand the sounding rod to him, and he takes it with a steady hand.