u/Vaeltava_hirvi

It’s been a long week. Work was busy, some personal projects needed finishing, and there was drama in your extended family (which you tried your best to ignore, but your cousins won’t take you off the group text chain). You promised yourself that on Saturday morning you’d sit on the sofa with a book and a cup of coffee and just relax for a while.

It seems your boy has picked this Saturday to catch up on the month’s housework. As you read, he keeps breezing through the living room and reporting, “I just finished scrubbing the bathroom tile,” or “I did a load of darks, it’s hanging on the balcony to dry,” or “I replaced the stove hood filter, that should help with the smell.” He refreshes your coffee twice. After a while, he drifts back into the room and sinks down to sit on the floor next to you, back against the body of the sofa and his left arm brushing against your right shin. After sitting there quietly for a while, he turns and bonks his forehead into your knee like an affectionate cat.

“What is it, sweetie?” you ask.

It takes him a moment to answer. “I thought I’d make roasted eggplant for dinner,” he says.

“That sounds good,” you say. “I like the way you do eggplant.” He scrunches his shoulders and nuzzles your knee again. You distractedly pat his head while you keep reading.

He sits quietly while you read a few more pages, then he pushes himself up to sit on the sofa next to you. He stares into the corner of the room and is quiet in the way that means he wants to say something but doesn’t know how or doesn’t want to bother you. You put your book down and turn to face him, hoping that will be enough encouragement to get his words moving.

It takes him a couple of false starts, but then he remarks, “Did you know it’s scientifically proven that a subby boy can die from lack of praise?”

“Oh, scientifically proven, is it?” you answer with a raised eyebrow.

He nods confidently. “Yep. With test tubes and spreadsheets and everything.”

“Is this your way of telling me I haven’t been paying enough attention to you?” Before you even see the pained face he makes, you know he won’t answer that question. He hates saying anything critical of you. “I mean, are you saying that there’s something you need from me?”

He looks down and shrugs his shoulders. “We haven’t cuddled all week,” he mumbles.

You haven’t? Surely there must have been… No, you can’t think of a time. But just the other day didn’t you..? No, that was last week.

You take his chin and turn his face toward you. His lips are smiling, but his eyes are sad. You pat your lap. He curls up on his side and lays his head on your thighs. You twirl your fingers in his hair with one hand and rub slow strokes down his side with the other.

“You did such a good job keeping everything going this week while I was busy,” you tell him. “Knowing that I would come home from work to good food and your company, or that I could vent to you about the latest stupid thing my uncle said really made it easier for me. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says. “I know you’ve had a lot to think about, and I want to help. I just miss having your attention, that’s all.”

“Is that why you’ve been doing so much housework today?” you ask. “You were waiting for me to notice what a good job you’re doing?”

“Sort of,” he admits. “I mean, those were all things that needed doing anyway, but… I did kind of hope that one of them would get me a Good boy.”

You smile and ruffle his hair. “You know, you can always tell me if there’s something you need from me.”

He frowns and shakes his head. “I know, but the last thing you need in a week like this is another item on your to-do list. Anyway, it’s not the words or the headpats or the snuggles that matter so much, it’s that you know what makes me happy and you decide to do it for me.”

You stroke his head. He squeezes your knee and sighs.

“You’ve spent all week doing your best to make me happy,” you tell him. “Do you know what that makes you?” He perks his head up with a questioning sound. “A good boy.” His body trembles and he whimpers as he buries his face back in your lap. “My good boy. And I don’t need any more proof of it.”

“Not even test tubes and spreadsheets?” he mumbles into your thighs.

“Not even that,” you laugh.

You’re enjoying some blissful post-session cuddles with your boy, but something is a little off. Usually after a scene, he’ll curl up small in your embrace or wrap his arms around you and hug you tight. This time he’s lying on his back, his arms spread wide, looking up at the ceiling. He seems happy enough. He has his usual dazed smile on his face, and he coos contentedly in response to your words, it’s just a little odd that he’s not snuggling up with you like usual.

You try not to be bothered by it. You settle on your side, torso in the space under his arm and one forearm under his neck while your free hand doodles little strokes down his chest and thighs. He nuzzles your cheek and makes happy sounds, but he still keeps his arms spread out.

“You okay, sweetie?” you ask.

“Mm-hm,” he mumbles with a nod.

“Good,” you answer, not sure what else to say.

Maybe he’s too warm and he’s spreading his arms out to cool down? He does tend to run hot, and it’s hard to tell if he’s sweating from heat now or still lathered from what you just put him through. He doesn’t feel hot under your touch, though. Is there something wrong that he’s just not telling you about? He doesn’t usually talk much right after a scene, but maybe you can prompt him into opening up.

“How was that for you?” you ask.

He smiles broadly and his eyes find yours.

“That was…” he mumbles, his voice still a little thick. “That was really good. Thank you, Mistress. Did I make you happy?”

“Of course you did!” you answer and cover his face in kisses. His cheeks flush an adorable colour and his eyes crinkle.

“Thank you, Mistress,” he repeats. “I always want you to be happy.” It’s a little odd for him to be calling you Mistress now. Although you’ve never made a rule about it, you both usually drop the titles during aftercare. It’s your time to reconnect not as Mistress and her boy but as two people who care about each other. Maybe he’s still just floating in subspace and needs the structure of the dynamic to anchor him, or maybe it’s just the first thing that came back into his hazy, empty, post-scene head. Either way, you’re not going to fuss and make him self-conscious about it. If he needs you to be Mistress right now, that’s what you’ll be.

“You were such a good boy for me,” you say, stroking his chest some more. “You were very obedient, and did everything Mistress said.”

He averts his gaze and makes a happy little whimper. It’s how he usually reacts when you praise him in the midst of a scene. Maybe you can play on that to get him to reveal what’s up with his arms.

“Do you want to keep being a good boy for me?” He nods. You swing yourself up to lie on top of him. “I want a hug. Can you be a good boy and give Mistress a hug?”

His face screws up in frustration and he looks at you with a pained whine. He flops his arms on the bed, but they don’t come up around you.

“Please, Mistress!” he begs.

Well, that’s not what you were expecting.

“What’s the matter?” you ask. He closes his eyes and flops his arms again. What on earth is wrong with him? You push yourself up and look at his arms.

Fuck! You forgot to untie him!

In the heat of the scene, the excitement of the moment, it just slipped your mind! You did all the other things you usually do at the end of a scene, cleaned up his mess and yours, took off his blindfold, dropped the toys into the cleaning basin, but with all of that, you forgot to undo his bondage.

“Fuck!” you give voice to your inner thoughts as you clamber over him and start undoing his wrist cuffs. “I’m sorry! Sweetie, I’m so sorry! I forgot! Fuck!”

He winces and draws a breath as you move his arm. “My shoulder, ow, ow, not the good kind, OW!”

You keep babbling incoherent apologies as you get him untied. He gingerly flexes his shoulders and equally incoherently tries to reassure you that he’s fine. You motion for him to sit up, and when he does you slip behind him and start massaging his strained muscles. He moans appreciatively as you do.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask him.

“I thought you wanted to keep the scene going.”

“You thought… Why did you think that?”

“Well…” he answers hesitantly, “because you didn’t untie me.” He tries to turn and look back at you, but that makes his shoulders tighten up. He gasps in pain and turns away again. “I didn’t want to second-guess you in the middle of a session.”

“But we weren’t…” You struggle for words. “How long have your shoulders been hurting?”

“A while. I’m okay. I was just trying to be a good boy for you and take the pain.”

“Oh, sweetie!” you exclaim. “When I want you to hurt, you’ll know!”

He laughs at that and relaxes back into your arms. You cuddle him and rock him in your arms, repeating your apologies in between kisses on the top of his messy head.

“It’s okay,” he says, squeezing your arms in his hands. “I knew you’d save me in the end. You always do.”