Celebratory (Patreon)

NSFW smut warning!

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Dim lights glinted off the restaurant windows as we entered the brick-laid building. Chandeliers dangled from exposed wooden beams above, and polished hardwood met our feet below. The hostess smiled when she saw us, but I caught the lift of her brows. I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged the corner of my lips.

You wore a crimson corset, layered over a deep black button-up. A jacket cloaked your shoulders. Your lips shone red, and the brush of eyeliner made your eyes all the more striking. You were certainly someone worth lifting eyebrows over - and someone who adamantly refused to let me kiss her, else I ruined her lipstick.

Not entirely able to touch femininity without moderate repulsion, I opted for a suit. The ebony attire that dressed me highlighted the ruby tie wrapped around my neck, and the somewhat-tamed mane of copper hair that cascaded over my chest. I wore a light touch of makeup, offering a hint of golden glitter to the corners of my eyes, which I hoped would help my viridian gaze be half as dazzling as yours.

“Under Lauren,” I said. “Reservations for two.”

Your smile did not escape my notice. I wonder - were you fond of me treating you to dinner to celebrate? Or did you simply enjoy when I took charge and lead, allowing you to lean back and enjoy yourself?

After a swift check over her list, the hostess nodded, marked something on her paper, then grabbed menus to lead us to our seats. A table near the edge of the restaurant awaited us, away from some of the chatter of other patrons, and bearing a flickering candle as a centerpiece while we settled in. I rested my hands on the white linen tablecloth, and once the hostess left, we freed ourselves of the need to be socially adept and relaxed into seeing what we might order.

“Order whatever you’d like,” I said warmly. “The advance will cover it fine.”

“Look at you being a sugar momma,” you teased, smirking over at me. I laughed, waving the statement out of the air with a flick of my hand.

“I have to treat you to food sometimes,” I replied. I fetched the drinks list and located one that seemed suitable. It being brisk outside made me hunger for intoxicated hot apple cider.

Your foot trailed up my leg, hidden by the tablecloth dangling low.

“Whatever shall I do to repay you?” you purred.

I hoped the candlelight would mask the heat that rose to my cheeks then. A waitress came by with waters, and your caress lingered ever higher. You watched me with a coy look in your eyes.

“Thank you,” I breathed, taking a sip of the water.

“Do you know what else you’d like to drink, or do you need more time?”

“More time, please,” I said quickly, needing the waitress away from the table as quickly as possible.

She smiled and nodded, leaving us for a moment more. I looked over at you. You met my gaze and held it, and in a fluster, I broke eye contact first and returned to my list of drinks.

“Such a cute little baby gay,” you hummed.

“How many years has it been?” I grumbled. “I can’t still be a baby gay.”

“Mmm, no, you are,” you chimed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t gay panic so easily still.”

“I think you like my gay panic too much to want me to get over it.”

“I don’t know what ever would’ve given you that idea,” you said. You sipped your water, and let your toes trail down my calf before retreating to your side of the table once more. I attempted to stay as calm as I could manage, despite the way my heart pounded.

“Maybe because you like inciting it so often,” I said. “Do you see something you think you’d like?”

You snickered, seemingly peering straight through the quick shift in topic. You laid your arm across the table and hummed thoughtfully. I was unable to resist, and I reached over to put my hand atop yours. I trailed my fingertips across your knuckles.

“I do. She’s bright red, and her hair is, too,” you said.

I let out a huff, shooting you a look. You didn’t meet my gaze, and instead, with a smug grin, trailed your free hand along the menu.

“The lamb looks good,” you said. You shifted your hand to entwine your fingers with mine. I smiled.

“We can get you the lamb,” I said softly. “Anything for my beautiful wife.”

You looked at me then, your eyes bright as you squeezed my hand. The ring I wore pressed against your skin. Within its interior, in a small groove within the stone, a lock of your sunset hair spun.

Pan-seared lamb, coated with a fine skin of fresh herbs filled the air with the smell of rosemary, and garlic, and thyme. My third drink arrived with our food, and I offered a bite of honey-glazed salmon to you. I focused intensely on the height of my fork, feeling the buzz of alcohol beginning to rise up from my chest and make my hand unsteady. You wrapped your lips around the fish and made eye contact with me as you did so, and I couldn’t help the crimson hue on my cheeks and the nervous laugh that escaped me. Your eyes glinted with joy.

The evening had been filled with laughter and a fair few blushes. You seemed keen on whispering your flirts whenever staff came by, making me nearly too flustered to answer questions or order us any further drinks. Your foot brushed along my leg once more and I found my nerves humming with the desire for your fingers to be curling around my breasts.

“What are you thinking?” you asked, your voice knowing. I realized, with a fair amount of annoyance at myself, that I had let out my usual crow purr, often done whenever I got overwhelmed with a thought or feeling. I poked my fork into the roasted carrots on my plate and filled my mouth with them to prevent me from needing to answer right away. You laughed.

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “That’s what I thought.”

I swallowed. “You’re a tease,” I said.

“A tease you married,” you said.

“And I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”

Your face flushed, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol, or from what I said. You took a sip of water before exhaling slowly. “So tell me about the newest book.”

I lit up. “Oh! Well,” I gestured with my free hand, glancing away from you so that I might focus on the words. “Since my last one sold, I’m going to start working on the spin-off series for Viridis. It’s set in the same galaxy, but it’s like, years afterwards. And there’s two Greens - something that’s never happened before. But they’re both Plurals, so one eye is Green, the other is something different, and they’re twins. So you know, huge uproar about what on earth that means. I want to tell the story from both their perspectives, and I’d really like to do an arc where one of them starts to get corrupted, and starts to become a villain, and we see that process through both character’s eyes. It’d also be an exploration story - so they’d end up leaving the Known Galaxy…”

Without much prompting, I found myself falling into the idea, and explaining every jotted down idea and note I ever placed on paper. I gushed about how excited I was to return to this galaxy, and how I longed to see how much I had grown since my last venture into this world. I didn’t remember my food until I took a breath, much later, at which point I paused to chew on more of my salmon. You finished your lamb, and listened to my ramble with a gentle smile on your perfect lips. You made the mistake of asking a few questions, which sent me into a spiral on morality, on the importance of craft, of how I might tackle a few nuisance ideas I’d like to address in my writing. I shared how I’d love for the main characters to discover the first remnants of the idea of “earth” in this galaxy, and what earth might look like in the realm of some distant future. I spilled each twist I could think of, and insisted I wanted to talk about eye color and why it was linked to a person’s powers.

I feared a moment that I had let my writer side out for too long when you didn’t say much after I finished. You took a drink from your ruby mead, and stood to walk over to my side of the table. Perplexed, I leaned in when you moved closer to my ear.

“I want you to follow me,” you whispered.

I blinked at you, confused but compliant, rising from my seat. You took my hand in yours and led me further into the restaurant - to one of the bathrooms. You brought me inside and closed and locked the door behind me.

The tile floor stood polished and spotless. A large, wood washstation stood to the left, with a marble countertop dotted with a few droplets of water. The kitchen lingered nearby, and aromas of salted potatoes and creamy pasta wafted through the cracks in the door. A mirror hung above the sink and it showed us both, beautiful and awe-inspiring, dressed to impress one another. And it revealed you approaching and wrapping your arms around me.

“So obedient,” you murmured in my ear. You guided me to the counter. “And so cute when you get all writerly.”

I laughed nervously. “I uh, didn’t mean to go on for that long.”

“We’re celebrating your publishing deal, aren’t we?” you purred. “You can go on as long as you like. I love to see you passionate.”

“You’re sweet,” I breathed. “I--”

Your fingers grasped for the button of my pants, and it came free quickly. I startled as you tugged them down, revealing the lace thong I wore. Your fingers gripped my ass as you pushed me against the counter.

“Oooh,” you cooed. “Now I have to fuck you.”

“H-here?” I managed, surprised but deeply aroused.

“Don’t make a sound, or I’m going to stop,” you said, running your fingers down between my legs. I bit my lip, melting into your touch as you teased around the thong’s sheer fabric. You caressed my inner thighs and pressed kisses along my neck. I squirmed, leaning more against the counter so I could tilt my hips up, offer you more.

“I want to slap that perfect ass of yours so bad,” you rasped. “But I don’t suspect that sound will go unnoticed for long.”

“You could when we get home,” I whispered.

A low growl escaped your lips. “Does the good kitten want to be spanked when we get home?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Please. I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

You chuckled and your teeth found purchase against my throat. My eyes fluttered and I let the smallest whimper slip. Your free hand curled around my mouth, tight and forceful to my lips, muffling any noise that came from me.

“I think you’re right,” you breathed. “I think you’ve earned the collar, too. Such a good little writer. I can’t wait to fuck you like you deserve.”

Your fingers slipped beneath my underwear and stroked my lower lips. I moaned into your hand. You bit me a second time, your fangs digging into me.

“Shhh,” you chastised. You continued to stroke. “Shhh… good, kitten.Good.  Stay quiet.”

I rocked along with your rhythm, choking on the sounds I wanted to make and struggling to keep them muzzled. The fan overhead grumbled and the lights above the sink buzzed. Outside, I heard staff rush by, and customers distantly converse about something I couldn’t distinguish. Lavender soap filled my nostrils. I spread my legs wider and pressed into your hand.

“Will you keep quiet if I ravage you here?” you breathed. I felt dizzy with want and nodded hurriedly, offering mumbled affirmatives. You kept your palm against my lips. “Good,” you said. “I was worried I’d have to control myself.”

Your fingers pressed into me, first one, then two, and quickly a third. You penetrated deep, and I sank my hips to meet you in that depth. With your hand against my mouth, you pushed me to watch the mirror.

“Go ahead,” you said. “Watch as I make you cum.”

Slow, at first, you began to thrust into me. Your eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and a pleased grin crossed your lips. I went to look away, but your hand held me steady. My brows knit upwards. I shifted my gaze for a second, and you stopped your movements.

“Don’t look away,” you commanded. With another whimper, I looked back at you. You smiled. “Good,” you praised. “Such a good kitten. And so wet. You’re dripping. How long have you been thinking about me?”

I couldn’t answer, but we both knew what I would say. I hungered since you teased me that morning, since you brought me close and denied me an orgasm.

“You’ve been so patient,” you murmured. “Letting me tease and play with you. Such a good wife of mine.”

My eyes rolled up as you began to fill me with a fourth finger. As you seated yourself inside me, and I relished in the swollen feeling of warmth and lust, you ran your tongue along my neck.

“If you don’t make a sound,” you whispered, “I’ll reward you. But if you do… I’m going to have to punish you for not listening.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, my head spinning. Don’t make a sound. I could do that. I could--

You pulled back and thrust deep and heavy inside me, filling every inch, touching every tender nerve. My hands gripped the countertop and my arms shuddered, ecstasy nearly bidding them to cave. Again, you fucked me, hard and relentless, falling into a merciless rhythm that made my legs shake. I chewed my lip, focused on staying as quiet as I could manage. The melody of your hand against my throbbing pussy stained the air with passion, intoxicating my helpless mind. The way your strength rocked me, the way we looked within the reflection, with your arms bulging beneath the fabric of your shirt - I almost wanted this moment to last for all eternity.

“You’re so fucking wet,” you huffed. “Cum so I can taste you. I want you to cum.”

You pulled your muzzling hand away for a moment before plunging your fingers into my mouth. You pressed deep, matching the way you thrust between my legs with the movement of your hand in my mouth. I sucked upon your middle and forefinger, desperate as the climax began to build. You chuckled as I struggled to stay silent.

“You deserve this,” you breathed. “You deserve to feel good.”

And, as my high reached bursting, you pressed deep, and deeper still, until you brushed a singular spot, and sent me spiraling over the edge.

I met you, pushing back against your hand to take more of you into me. My eyes shut and I chewed my lip as I tried not to scream my lust into the forbidden air.

“Such a good listener,” you whispered, beginning to pull out. I whimpered my protest, following your hand, not willing to let you go quite yet.

“Stay,” you said growled. I hesitated, but obeyed, hating the feeling of your girth leaving me, of how empty I began to feel when you slipped away. You cupped the space between my legs.

“Good girl,” you purred, reaching up with your free hand to brush my cheek. You kiss my back and lift my pants up once more. “Such a good listener. We can’t go any more, we have dinner to eat, remember?” You buttoned my pants for me as I continued to recover against the counter. You lifted my chin with one hand and when I met your eyes, you shoved your cum-soaked fingers in my mouth.

“But I can’t go out there with you plastered on my hands,” you said, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. “So you should clean them.”

I nodded obediently, losing myself to the desire to please, lapping up every drop of me on you. My tongue ran across your knuckles and I sucked on your thumb. I let my eyes roll once more.

“Good, slut,” you said as you brushed your free hand along my jawline. “You make me so pleased when you listen. Now stop.” I did as commanded. “Good.” You pulled away from my mouth and smiled. “You’ll get your reward when we get home. Do you know what it is?”

I shook my head, struggling to stay out of subspace. “What?” I whispered.

You took my chin in your hand and pulled me closer so you could say it in my ear.

“I’m going to strip you naked and throw you into our yard. And I’m going to hunt you down and fuck you with that strap you like so much.”

You let go and I gripped the counter to catch my breath. You smirked and looked in the mirror, pruning for a moment, before you offered your hand to me.

“Come along now,” you hummed. “Back to dinner, my insatiable wife.”