The rattle of hangers against tal jolts awake.
I blink against the morning light filtering through our bedroom curtains, my brain still foggy with sleep as I try to orient myself. Emily's voice cuts through the haze, low and focused, coming from sowhere near the closet.
"She was doing what with her hand?" Emily asks, her tone sharp with disbelief. "Really?"
I prop myself up on one elbow, squinting toward where she's standing half-hidden behind the closet door. She's already dressed in one of her expensive blouses, her silver hair loose around her shoulders. Her phone is pressed to her ear, and she's holding what looks like a black cocktail dress in her other hand.
She steps out of the closet, still listening to whoever's on the other end, and our eyes et. Her whole face transforms, that sharp focus lting into warmth as a smile spreads across her lips. The change is so imdiate it makes my chest tighten.
"Well, look into it and get back to , alright?" she says into the phone, her eyes never leaving mine. "I've got to go. Goodbye."
She ends the call and sets the phone on the dresser, moving toward the bed with that graceful way she has. The mattress dips as she sits beside , her hand imdiately finding my hair, fingers threading through the ssy strands.
"I'm so sorry, did I wake you?" Her voice drops to that soft, tender tone she reserves for .
"No," I lie, even though we both know I was definitely asleep thirty seconds ago.
Her fingers continue their gentle exploration through my hair, and I lean into the touch without thinking. The intimacy of the gesture, the quiet morning light, the way she's looking at like I'm the only thing that matters, it all feels almost too perfect.
"Was that a client?" I ask, the question coming out more casual than I feel.
"No," she says imdiately, her smile widening slightly. "Just an old friend."
I watch her fingers continue their path through my hair, the gesture soothing despite the curiosity gnawing at .
"Do you have work tonight?" I ask, my voice still rough with sleep.
"No." Emily's hand pauses for just a second before resuming its gentle motion. "I was just going through my closet, seeing if anything needed dry cleaning."
I shift, pushing myself up to sitting. The sheets pool around my waist as I stretch, feeling my spine pop in several places. "Can I look?"
Her eyebrow arches, amusent flickering across her face. "Through my closet?"
"Yeah, just for fun."
She laughs, the sound warm and indulgent. "Sure, baby. Knock yourself out."
I climb out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood as I pad over to where she left the closet door open. The space is massive, practically a small room unto itself, lined with organized rows of dresses, blouses, and outfits I can't even begin to categorize. Everything arranged by color and style with the precision of soone who takes their wardrobe seriously.
My eyes scan over the familiar pieces, the black dress from the hotel, several cocktail dresses in various jewel tones, professional business attire that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe combined. Then sothing catches my eye that doesn't fit.
A jersey. Powder blue and gold, hanging between two evening gowns like it wandered into the wrong neighborhood.
"Why do you have a Chargers jersey?" I ask, reaching out to touch the fabric.
Emily's reflection appears in the closet mirror, her expression shifting to sothing between annoyed and resigned. She shrugs, crossing her arms. "It's for so nerd client who likes hentai."
I blink, processing that combination of words. "Hentai?"
"Yeah." She waves her hand dismissively. "I have to get dressed up as so redhead girl from..." She pauses, her brow furrowing slightly. "I think the show was called Evangelist? Sothing like that."
The pieces click together in my brain imdiately.
"Ohhh, Evangelion," I say, unable to keep the recognition out of my voice.
Emily's eyes light up slightly. "Yeah, that's it. Sothing like that."
A laugh bubbles up from my chest despite myself. "Yeah, I forgot Asuka's a Chargers fan." [A/N: I love the chargers SO FUCKING MUCH]
She nods, clearly relieved to have the mystery solved. "Bolt up..." Her voice trails off uncertainly. "I think?"
"Yeah, that's what they say." I turn back to the jersey, shaking my head. "I can't believe you had to do that."
Emily laughs, the sound rich and unguarded. "That's nothing, baby." She moves closer, leaning against the closet doorfra. "One guy used this ovipositor on to insert gelatin eggs inside ."
My brain stutters trying to process those words. "What the fuck is an ovipositor?"
She sighs, her hand coming up to rub her temple like the mory gives her a headache. "It's like this alien-looking dildo thing.”
"Yuck." The word cos out before I can stop it, my face scrunching up involuntarily.
Emily laughs again, this ti harder, her whole body shaking with it. Before I can react, she's moving toward , her arms wrapping around my waist as she pulls backward. We stumble together, falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.
"What's wrong?" she purrs against my ear, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "You don't want to fill your wife with eggs and then jerk off while I shoot them out onto your laying body?"
Heat explodes across my face so fast I'm surprised it doesn't burn her where we're touching. "Is that what happened?"
"Yup." She nuzzles into my neck, her breath warm against my skin. "It was gross. The eggs were lukewarm and slimy, and the whole thing took like forty minutes because he kept losing his erection."
I twist in her arms to look at her face, trying to gauge if she's serious. "That sounds awful."
"It was." Emily's expression shifts to sothing more thoughtful. "But he paid really well for it, so." She shrugs, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest through my shirt. "So clients have very specific fantasies."
I furrow my brow, an idea forming that makes my chest feel tight. "I wish I had so specific fetish that only I could do with you."
The words hang between us for a second. Emily's expression shifts, her eyes going soft in that way that makes my heart stutter.
"You do," she says simply.
I open my mouth, already knowing where this is going. "Are you just going to say lo…"
"That fetish is love," she interrupts in a sing-song voice, practically finishing my sentence. Before I can respond, she's peppering my face with kisses, her lips finding my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my jaw.
Each kiss lands soft and deliberate, and I can feel her smiling against my skin. Heat floods through , embarrassnt and affection tangling together until I can't tell which is which.
"Emily," I manage between kisses, but she doesn't stop.
"It's true," she murmurs against my temple. "Nobody's ever loved the way you do, Danny." Another kiss, this one on my eyelid. "Nobody's ever made feel this treasured." My other eyelid. "This wanted." My nose. "This safe."
My hands find her waist, gripping her like she might disappear if I don't hold on tight enough. "That's not a fetish."
"Isn't it?" She pulls back just enough to et my eyes, her fingers still playing with my hair. "You get off on making feel loved. On proving I'm yours. On showing devotion." Her smile turns wicked. "Sounds like a fetish to ."
I want to argue, but she's already kissing again, this ti on the mouth. The kiss is soft, tender, completely at odds with the teasing in her voice monts ago. When she pulls away, her blue eyes are serious.
"No client could ever do what you do. Because what you give isn't performance. It's not transactional. It's just... you. All of you. Completely."
My throat tightens, words catching sowhere between my chest and my mouth.
"That's your specific thing, baby," Emily continues, her hand cupping my face with infinite gentleness. "Your fetish is loving so completely that I feel it in every cell of my body. And nobody, nobody in this world, can do that but you."
Sothing shifts in my chest, warmth and vulnerability tangling together. I swallow hard, forcing myself to et her eyes. "What about you?"
Her eyebrow arches, curiosity flickering across her features. "What about ?"
"What's your fetish?" The question cos out softer than I intended, almost shy.
Emily's smile transforms into sothing wicked, mischievous in a way that makes my breath catch. Her eyes gleam with that dangerous light I've co to recognize, the one that ans she's about to say sothing that'll make blush.
"Well, loving you of course," she purrs.
She shifts closer, her mouth finding the sensitive spot just below my ear. Then her teeth sink into my earlobe, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to send electricity shooting down my spine.
My breath hitches involuntarily, heat flooding through .
"And also being your Mommy," she whispers directly into my ear, her voice dropping to sothing that makes every hair on my body stand up. Her tongue traces the shell of my ear before she continues. "Which you make very easy. You've never, ever been a bad boy."
The praise hits harder than it should. My face burns, and I know I'm blushing furiously, but I can't look away from her. Can't do anything except stay frozen in place while she studies my reaction with obvious satisfaction.
"Never once," she continues, her fingers trailing down my chest with deliberate slowness. "Not a single ti have you disappointed , Danny. You're so good for Mommy. So perfect."
My throat closes up completely. The words settle into my chest like warm honey, sweet and thick and impossible to swallow around. I want to say sothing, anything, but all that cos out is a strangled sound that might be her na.
Emily laughs, low and pleased, like my inability to form words is exactly the response she was hoping for. Her hand cups my face, thumb stroking across my burning cheek.
"See?" she says softly. "That's what I get off on. Making you feel this cherished. Watching you lt when I tell you how good you are." Her eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my chest ache. "Being the one person in the world who gets to take care of you like this."
I swallow hard, my heart still hamring from her praise. "But nothing weirder than that?"
Emily's expression shifts, curiosity sparking in her blue eyes as she pulls back slightly to look at properly. "Do you have any weird fetishes?" This content belongs to noᴠelfire
The question catches off guard. My mind goes blank for a second, scrambling through possibilities.
"Besides the, well..." She pauses, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You know."
The reference to the cucking makes heat flood my face all over again. I look away, unable to hold her knowing gaze. "I don't know."
Her eyes light up imdiately, that dangerous gleam intensifying. "We can try anything and everything, Danny." Her voice drops to sothing encouraging, almost eager. "Do you want Mommy to put so nylon socks on for you and give you a footjob?"
My brain stutters trying to process the image. "I'm not really a foot guy," I manage, though my cock gives an interested twitch that betrays . "But maybe that'd be fun?"
Emily leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear as she whispers, "Or maybe you're more of a piss guy?"
The words make my entire body go rigid. Not from arousal, from pure shock.
"Do you want to piss on Mommy?" Her hand flies to her mouth in mock surprise, her eyes wide with feigned scandal. Then her voice drops even lower, more intimate. "Do you want to piss inside Mommy?"
"What?" The word explodes from , louder than I intend. I jerk back to look at her face, trying to determine if she's serious or just fucking with . "Emily, that's..."
She's watching with that calculating expression, reading every micro-reaction on my face like she's conducting an experint. Her lips curve into a small smile, not mocking, just curious.
"That's not..." I struggle to find words that don't sound judgntal. "I've never thought about that."
"Never?" She tilts her head, genuinely interested now. "Not even a little bit of curiosity?"
My face burns so hot I'm surprised the sheets don't catch fire. "No. I an..." I pause, really trying to search my feelings honestly. "No, I don't think that's sothing I want to try."
Emily's expression shifts, sothing almost vulnerable flickering across her features. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest as she watches carefully.
"You know," she says, her voice taking on that casual tone that ans what she's about to say is anything but casual, "no one's ever pissed inside before."
My brain short-circuits completely. I stare at her, trying to process those words and failing spectacularly.
"You'd be the first to do sothing like that," she continues, her blue eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "If you wanted to, I an."
The offer hangs between us, heavy and strange. My cock gives another interested twitch despite my confusion, my body apparently more curious than my brain is comfortable admitting.
"I..." The word cos out strangled. "Why would you even want that?"
Emily shrugs, but there's sothing calculated in the gesture. "I don't know if I want it, necessarily." Her fingers continue their path across my chest, drawing patterns I can't decipher. "But the idea of you being the first person to do sothing to ? Sothing that intimate and weird and kind of taboo?" Her eyes lock onto mine. "That appeals to , baby. A lot."
Heat floods through , embarrassnt and arousal tangling together in ways I don't want to examine too closely. "That's really fucked up, Emily."
"Says the man who gets rock hard watching other n cum inside his wife," she shoots back, but there's no bite to it. Just amusent and affection in equal asure.
"That's different."
"Is it?" Her hand slides lower, fingers trailing down my stomach toward where my cock is betraying my interest through my boxers. "Your body seems to think it's at least worth considering."
I grab her wrist before she can reach her destination, my heart hamring. “Look… I don’t know, alright, it seems too weird for .”
“Well, it's up to you, baby.”
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