Page 80 of Savage

Hunter squats down and carefully takes my hands into his, then guides me to stand. Once upright, he pulls me into an embrace and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry,” he repeats for what must be the hundredth time in the past few days.

I don’t know what to think of his apologies. They sound sincere, but I also don’t know how long this sort of contrite behavior is going to last.

“Let’s go sit down on the couch. We can watch TV, or I can play one of your games.”

That startles a laugh out of me. “You think you can?” I ask, tentatively teasing him.

Hunter scoffs. “It can’t be that hard.”

We wander over to the couch and arrange ourselves with my head on his lap while he powers up the system with the controller. He manages to start up the game, but the problems start almost immediately when he twirls the camera around instead of moving the character.

“It’s the other joystick,” I point out.

It takes Hunter a few tries to figure it out, and with more of my guidance, he does manage to direct the main character to talk to other figures. During the scripted scenes, he strokes my hair.

It’s nice and dreamy. This is the Hunter I like.

I wish it could always be this way, but I’m not confident that it will be.

Dylan was nice sometimes, too, in the beginning.

When he turns off the console, I look up at him, but he’s not in a hurry to move—and neither am I. “What do you think?” I tentatively ask. “Going to be a gamer?”

“I prefer watching,” Hunter says, placing the blue controller on the stark white coffee table. “But I’ll play until you’re healed.”

I can’t help but smile at that, and I hesitate before turning my head a little in his lap to gaze up at him. My mouth is right by his cock, and I’m so tempted to ask if I can… What? Get a reward for not dying?

Thank him for doing something that’s just for me?

“Can I…”

He gazes down at me, and I still can’t read those icy blue eyes of his. “Can you what?”

A shiver runs through me, and it’s all I can do to keep meeting his eyes. “Master,” I say softly. “May I please… suck your cock?”

Hunter inhales sharply, and I tense, afraid that I made him mad again. But he strokes my head gently, and he says, “You may. Get on your knees on the floor, and keep your hands at your sides. I don’t want to see them moving. If you move your hands or strain them in any way, I’ll be forced to end things.”

A touch of warmth blossoms in me at the words. He’s worried about me doing further damage to my hands, even to the point where he’d stop letting me pleasure him if I do.

Would that be a punishment? I don’t know, not really. I want this, though, so I have to say yes, it would be.

But it’s a punishment I’d be able to take without wanting to die.

I sit up and slide to my knees on the floor in front of him, nuzzling his cock through his pants. I don’t think I can release him from their confines without the use of my hands, and I peer anxiously up at him in a silent plea for help.

He nods at me and undoes his belt and fly, pulling his cock out. He isn’t hard at all yet, which is so different from usual, but I find it oddly comforting, too. He wasn’t getting off on having my head in his lap. He was being nice for no other reason than to be nice.

I don’t quite know what to make of that, but I like it.

I rub my cheek against his cock at first, just enjoying the feel of the velvety softness against my skin. I could’ve lost all of this. I could’ve lost everything.

At the same time, though—and I’d never say this aloud—maybe things never would’ve changed, never would’ve gotten better, if I hadn’t done something drastic.

That hadn’t been why I’d done it, but it seems almost like a blessing in disguise.

He starts to play with my hair while I luxuriate in the feeling of his cock next to me, starting to harden but still so undemanding. I’m getting to set the pace, which is beyond bizarre, but I’m grateful for it.

I realize I don’t actually know how he likes to touch his cock. He usually sets the pace, and sometimes he’d give orders to suck harder or to lick, but I don’t know if he has any particularly sensitive spots, or if he prefers one type of pressure over another.

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