A Lover's Respite
When your soldier boyfriend gets the orders to ship out, he has one request from you before he goes: empty his head for him like he always does for you. Can you oblige?
Author's Note: Today is Day 7 of Hypnovember, making this the end of the first full week. I went back and forth a lot with story ideas for today's prompt of Power Reversal, but ultimately, this one just felt… right. There's a little more plot with the porn today, but in all the best ways. Enjoy!
You hear the music as you step up to your front door. You know your partner is home because his car is in the driveway, but the bass reverberating from your front windows is a little out of character for him. You glance at your neighbors' door just a few feet from yours, and you know they're being forced to listen to this, too.
You open the front door and immediately see him dancing in the kitchen with a frying pan in his paw. He's not wearing a shirt, but you recognize the green camouflage pattern of his work pants. You kick off your work shoes and set your keys down. He starts singing along with the song, and he sounds unusually cheerful.
You pad into the kitchen and see a mostly empty bottle of bourbon on the counter beside him. You lean against the frame of the entryway to the kitchen and wait for him to turn around. When he does, the frying pan in his hand has been replaced by his whiskey glass. His dark green eyes widen in shock when he sees you. He downs the rest of his drink, sets the glass down on the counter, and dances over to you.
“Honey, you're home early!" he exclaims. His words slur together as he throws his arms around you. You chuckle and hug him back.
He takes a step back and you look him over. His russet brown fur looks dirty, like he forgot to shower after work. His eyes are dazed, and you wonder how full that bottle had been before he started drinking. He's normally a stoic wolf, but this evening, he's thrown all caution to the wind.
You point at the digital clock behind him with a smirk. “It's 5:30," you say. “Same time I get home from work every day."
He turns to squint at the clock, then looks back at you with a grin. “Oops," he shrugs. “Guess I lost track of time. But dinner's almost ready!"
He turns back to the stove, and he stirs something in a big pot on a back burner. “So, when did you get off today?" you ask.
“I got home around one," he says as he moves his hips in rhythm with the song.
One o'clock? On a Thursday? “What's the special occasion?" you wonder out loud.
He picks up the bottle of bourbon and takes a long swig. “Orders came down," he says as he sets the emptied bottle back on the counter. “We ship out in a couple of weeks."
Silence hangs in the air between the two of you. He continues to dance and sing while you stare at the way the muscles in his back move. “How long?" you ask when you find the words again.
He stops dancing and drops his head. He turns around to face you, and you can see defeat pulling down the corners of his mouth. “At least a year," he says. “In the desert."
Of course. One of the only places you never wanted him to go. You nod your head and walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his strong, broad shoulders, and you feel his weight lean into you. “I'll go get another bottle of bourbon," you say as you finally pull away.
The music still echoes down the hallway when he looks at you and shakes his head. His eyes are bleary with drink. He walks off toward the staircase leading up to the bedroom, and for a moment, you wonder if you should follow him. You turn the burners down on the stove, then find the remote for the sound bar and turn that down, too, so your neighbors can get a break.
He comes back downstairs a few minutes later, and you're surprised to see your brown-and-green leather collar fastened around his neck. He looks at you with pleading eyes and sinks to his knees. “I don't want to think anymore," he says in a quiet voice. “Help me?"
For a moment, you feel stunned. You don't think your wolf-soldier boyfriend has ever wanted to be on the receiving end of a trance before, and truthfully, you're not even sure if you can do it. You nod your head though, and you reach out to scratch behind his ears.
“The alcohol is already making it easy not to think," you say to him in an even, measured tone. He nods his head along to your words. “Easy to feel safe and secure with me here. You know I'll always take care of my little puppy."
He whines in agreement, a soft sound at the back of his throat. You watch his eyes glaze over as he allows your words to rock his mind to sleep. “That's a good boy," you praise while you reach forward and scratch his head again. “It's so easy to be a good puppy for me, isn't it? So easy to just turn off your brain and drift off into puppy space."
Your boyfriend nuzzles into your paw as he nods his head. You feel a twinge of excitement over how easily he's falling under your influence, and you wonder if this is what it feels like for him when you're the one being put under. “Life is so blissful when you're just a silly puppy waiting for your next command, isn't it?" you muse, and you chuckle when he nods enthusiastically. “How about you sit up for me, hmm? Show me how well you can listen."
He straightens his back and pulls himself up to his knees. He's now about hip-height with you. You reach down and hook your finger through the D-ring of the collar and pull gently. “What a good boy," you say while you look into his eyes. “How about you open your mouth a little for me, now."
He whimpers as you tug on the collar, but his mouth drops open on command. You caress his cheek and gently push your thumb into his open muzzle. He closes his mouth around your finger and starts to suck.
You feel your heart rate quicken. “Good boy," you praise in a breathy voice as you pull your finger from his mouth. You take a second to recompose yourself and look into his eyes again. They're glassy and dazed, and he wears a limp smile on his face now. You can see the visible tent forming in his pants. “Is someone getting excited?" you ask.
He nods his head and whines at you. “I want to see how excited you are for me," you say, and you can hear the lust dripping from your words. “Take off your pants and show me."
He brings himself into a standing position and quickly unfastens his pants. They drop unceremoniously to the floor. He steps out of them and kicks them off to the side. He moves to slide his boxers down, and you watch eagerly as his entire length is exposed. Precum leaks from his head, and you bite the inside of your cheek to calm yourself down.
“That looks like it's begging to be touched," you say in a heady tone. “Why don't you go ahead and touch it for me. Show me how you like it."
His paw obediently wraps around his shaft, and he starts to slide his hand up and down in long, slow strokes. His eyes flutter closed as he throws his head back and moans. Precum dampens the fur on his fingers while a hunger brews inside of you.
“Tell me how you taste," you order, and your voice is deep and low now. You swallow hard as he takes his length in his other paw and brings the moist fingers to his mouth.
He groans as he sucks the precum from his digits. He opens his eyes to look at you with his fingers still in his mouth. “I taste so good," he says, and you fight the urge to lean over and taste his fingers yourself.
“I bet you do," you growl. Your own mind is starting to get hazy with lust, and you try to reign yourself back in as you watch him continue to stroke himself. “And you know what I think tastes even better? Your cum." He moans at the mention of cum, and you notice he starts to pick up the pace of his stroking. “Yeah?" you push. “You like the idea of that? You want to taste your cum for me and tell me how good it is?"
He nods his head, but the words are lost in his moaning. “No need to think about anything besides how good it feels to touch yourself right now," you continue. He's stroking himself hard and fast now, with his paw sliding over the head of his shaft with every motion. “You're getting closer and closer to finishing, feeling that pressure build up in the base of your groin." His moans become more desperate as his breathing becomes shallower and faster.
You watch greedily as he fucks his own paw. His hips thrust hard against his wrist, and you imagine for a second it's you he's thrusting into like that. You can see his movements growing more frantic, and you know he's getting close. “Good puppies wait for permission to cum," you say as swallow hard. He lets out a loud, desperate whine, but he doesn't slow his pace.
“Please," the word sounds so strangled coming out of his throat. “Please, I'm so close. I need to cum, I want to taste it for you and tell you how good it tastes."
You close your eyes as a growl rises from your chest. You place a paw under his muzzle and guide his face toward yours. “I want you to look at me," you say in a breathy voice. “I want to see the look in your eyes when you cum."
He nods his head as he continues to stroke himself faster and faster. “Please," he repeats in a small, desperate voice. “Please let me cum for you."
A smile twists at the corners of your mouth, and you shake your head yes at him. You lean down until your muzzle is just centimeters from his ear. “Cum for me."
His hips twist and writhe as the pressure reaches a blowing point. He lets out a loud moan and starts spraying. Thick ropes of cum land on his chest and abdomen while some ricochet lands on your shirt. You reach down and scratch his head as he tries to catch his breath.
“That was impressive," you say to him as he nuzzles into your paw. “I bet you feel exhausted now." He nods at you without saying anything. You help him to his feet, and he leans his weight into you. You can smell the bourbon on his breath as you maneuver him over to the sink.
After getting him cleaned up, you help him over to the couch. He lays his head in your lap, and your paw immediately finds his hair. “It's going to be okay," you say in a quiet voice. Still deep in trance, he nods at you absentmindedly. “You're safe here with me right now, and we'll find a way to make it okay." You're not sure if you're reassuring him or yourself at this point, but you feel him press himself deeper into your lap, as if he's trying to hide from something. “Everything will be okay." You scratch his head and flip on the TV. You two will talk about this some more tomorrow, but for tonight, you can let him enjoy the peace of being empty-headed.