Briar and Beau - Say Please

 The hum of the ship replaced the sound of the shower as I waved the sensors off. The day had been long and over stimulating. I could feel the edges of the day’s noise and chaos building up at the corners of my eyes. Too many sounds. Too much activity. Too much to take in. Long showers were usually enough to ease back into a quiet space but I had pushed myself and was paying the price. The tension in my throat had already started. A slow climbing choking feeling settling in hard. The telltale sign that a shower wasn’t going to be enough…that I was already on the cusp of it all being too much. It was pulling me down, my head drawn forward as I wiped away the starts of the tears that would likely mark an exhausting evening of decompressing. 

It was then that I noticed a box. Thin and black, resting neatly on top of my towel. Cautiously I moved it aside and slid the towel around my waist. Half covered and on the verge of exhaustion I opened it. Inside the lid was an Englantine stamp, Briar’s moniker. I exhaled. Deep and long. Then again. Each breath slowly drawing some of the calm that had escaped me all day. Briar could do what the shower had not. With what felt like the first moment of ease all day, I stepped out of my quarters and into the hall with only the damp towel covering me and the contents of the black box in my hand. 

The walk to Briars room was not one I had made often but one that felt familiar already. I’m normally drawn to overly dominant men. Zhéwěi was a usual go to. His showy, aggressive commands and well-practiced dominance were hard to resist. But Briar, he was different. Soft and demanding, often without a word. And he showed all the signs of being a sensualist. In the few times we had been together I’d catch him lost in himself. Eyes closed. His hands exploring me like I was a thing to be had. As if I were something other than simply a man laying in front of him. There are these moments with him where I have felt both objectified and exalted all at once. There is something in him that draws the tension out of me and I needed that so desperately tonight. 

I stood in front of Briar’s door. The sensors could recognize me. The whole ship is wired for it, each of our bio signatures. He had set the door to make me wait. I could feel myself smirk in response. Such a simple thing. Forcing me to wait, to be still. To center myself. It’s like he just knows. Like the box waiting for me. Some sense that I needed this, needed him, without me saying a single word.

When the door opened, I stepped in. He was there waiting. He was seated, arms on each side of a large chair. His hairy chest and belly settled into a resting state. In these moments he seemed so sure of himself. During the day I’d find him in moments of self-awareness. Conscious of his body, conscious of how it moved. But here, tonight, he was solid in it. His body at his command, just like I was to be. 

I didn’t hear the door close behind me. In fact, I heard very little. Noise dampeners. He had set up brown noise systems. My body was already easing in the dulling, softness of it. Even the ship's droning was shut out now. I could feel tension draining from me and I was still only one step in. 

Briar smiled softly, his cheeks meeting his eyes in a sweet and mischievous way. Then he pointed at my hand. This was his silent signal that we were starting. I pulled the contents of the box up, a long piece of fabric with a mechanical inlay. I wrapped and secured it tightly around my eyes. It created a pliable mask, the lenses coating the room in a soft blue hue. I raised my head, looking at Briar. Making eye contact for the first time since entering. This was how it was to begin. He held my gaze, softly…reassuringly. Then he pointed at the ground. Without question I knelt. Not uttering a word. 

Leaning back fully he waved his hand. The floor went black, and the room darkened. All I could see now was my own pale skin stark in the blue glow and Briar, lit in a soft halo of light. There I knelt. Waiting for his next instruction. He watched me. His eyes, looking over my body. Observing me in a way that made me feel both seen and invisible at once. I was there but I didn’t have to be. I could get lost in my own mind, and spiral into nothing, and I knew he’d just wait for me. No expectations. No timeline. Briar would just wait until I was ready. It was then I broke, my eyes welling with tears. The first reprieve of a climbing anxiety I had felt in days. I could feel it pouring out of me, into the dark. The cold tracks of my tears clearing the path for the flow of intense emotions. 

Briar leaned forward. His thick build relaying strength that the others often underestimated. He simply cupped my face and nodded, then whispered,” Good boy”, before sitting back.

 A heat rushed through my abdomen and a new sound of pulsing filled my ears. My eyes and my dick grew full with longing. I wanted to be good. I wanted to show him how good I could be. I wanted to show Briar how grateful I was for his ability to drawn the rawness of my anxiety out of me and reshape it into desire. 

I reached down, loosening the towel as I put both of my hands on the ground. Easing forward on hands and knees, I kissed the top of his feet. His ankles. His calves. The softest brush of my lips. Honoring his body as something to be grateful for. I was determined to show him my gratitude in any way I could. My movements quickened. My kisses deeper. My tongue cautiously brushing against the hairs of his leg, inner knee, and the starts of his thigh. He held his legs rigid. A warning to take my time but my desire was growing. I knelt closer. His knees against my chest. My hands on the back of his calves. I looked up at him longingly. I wanted my mouth on him. I needed to take part of him in me. I desperately wanted to offer him the same relief I felt. 

He drew his hands towards my face. His broad thumb met my lips. The tip of his thumb parted my lips and he slid it softly over them. Tight circles guiding my mouth open. It reached in. The coarseness of it gentle against my teeth, then my tongue. Desperate to have him in me, I closed my mouth around it teasing his thumb with my tongue. Sucking at it. Giving him promises of the things I would do if he just let me get closer. 

I could see him drifting. That place he goes when he loses himself in his body. His eyes half closed; his gaze intense yet distant. His legs relaxed, spreading to make way for my chest. I buried my head in his lap. Briar groaned. That soft groan that wasn’t about me. It wasn’t like the other men who groaned to urge me on. It was like something he couldn’t control. Something soft, vulnerable, and primitive. 

I could feel him, rigid and erect under just a sheer piece of fabric. A jock strap. I fought the urge to grin. He knew I liked them and had worn one for me. My heart raced. I wanted him even more. I want to taste him. I wanted to reward him. With fervor I kissed and licked at the fabric. I licked under the edges, along the seams. I knew I had to wait for him to move it aside. I knew he was making me wait, but I was going to make that wait just as miserable for him as it was for me. 

My tongue traced every edge, every corner it could find. I tasted him. Licked at the tip of him. The roundness of his balls. His soft moans only antagonized my efforts until I could feel frustration growing. I wanted to feel every inch of him in my mouth and throat. I wanted it more than anything in this very moment. It was at that moment that I felt his hand under my chin. He pulled my gaze up to his. “Say please”. My body lurched in agony. Fuck. How does he do this? It was like electricity pulling at my groin. I looked into his eyes. I poured every ounce of will I had into my voice and pleaded in a whisper…”Please!” 

With a smile that nearly made me spend days of built up cum, he pulled the fabric of his jockstrap aside. His dick easing out. His balls exposed. I took it all in. His balls in my hand. His dick in my mouth. I worked it in a slowly, wetting it to the base. Each in and out motion growing in speed. Wet trails of my spit ran down his dick and coating his balls and my hands. I could feel my impatience growing. As was my need to cum. Grabbing his dick firmly in my left hand, I stopped to spit into my right. Then started working his dick and my own in long stroking motions. From base to tip, over and over, in ritual. 

The room dull noise of the room left plenty of space for the sound of Briar preparing to cum. I looked up at him. His hairy chest and belly. His beard. The white shocks of hair at his forehead. His eyes closed in pleasure. My mind was filled with one repeating thought…please cum. Please cum. I wanted it so badly. 

The pace of my efforts grew until I could see Briar’s hands gripping the arm rests. His knuckle’s growing pale has pressed his fingers around the edges. His arms coursing with hidden muscles. His body to grow writhing and flexing. 

 He came. Pulses of hot fluid hitting my tongue and throat. My eyes closed to take it in. That’s when I felt his hands pull me closer. His dick still throbbing forced further into my mouth until I nearly choked. He held me there. Forcing me to take it all in. To swallow every drop. I came. Thick strands of fluid stretching out in front of me. Flashes of white against the darkness of the floor. He held me there until the last drops fell from me, then slowly he eased my head back. 

His fingers guided me as they drew me and forward. The strength of his hand on the back of my head pulling me up onto his lap. I climbed, easing my legs over him. Straddling him. My hands on his chest. 

His thick, wide hands pulled my shoulders into him until I could bury my face in his neck. He brushed something on the mask that caused it to go dark. Now it was just me and him. My body against his, the only sound in my ear his heavy breath and him whispering…” good boy” until I lost myself in tears. That was how we stayed. His broad arms around my waist holding me against him. My arms curled up to his chest. My face buried in his shoulder. We stayed there until my eyes were dry again. Until I felt like myself again.