😵‍💫 SHAWN HATOSY OBSESSED 😵‍💫

Your husband is like. Really hot. It's one of the first things you'd noticed about him, upon laying eyes on Brett up on that stage, talking about climate change's impact on wildfires.  

You're sure whatever he was saying was really important (actually you heard every word) and all that, but your focus was pulled to his tree trunk thighs, and taut stomach, and freckle-covered, bulging biceps, and kind, hazel eyes, and perfectly styled silver curls, and thick fingers...you distinctly remember drooling just a little. 

It's a majorly distracting trait of his. Along with the fact that he's annoyingly charming to the point that almost every word that comes out of his mouth on a good day, sounds like he's trying to lull you into bed. His low, sultry, gravely voice asks you how your day went, while those stupid big hands pet up and down your sides, or your back, or your thigh, and your panties are soaked and begging to be ripped off. 

It's majorly annoying that along with being super-hot, he's also the most thoughtful, level-headed, well-adjusted, and patient man you've ever met, let alone been with. He's so strong, mentally and physically, he builds you up or grounds you whenever you need, in anyway. 

Sadly, he also knows the effect he has on you, and for as much as you know how to tease the hell out of him, he can give it right back just as good. 

Why, oh why, did two of your busiest days working in the past month just have to align with his two days off shift from the station? Because now, instead of using every second to spend quality time with each other, in and out of bed, you're locked up in your home office, answering calls and finalizing presentations. 

Which wouldn't be too bad if not for the fact that Brett has decided to busy himself on these days off by doing chores around the house. 

It wouldn't be too bad if your office didn't have a perfect view of the butterfly garden, and Brett working hard to add more blooms to it. Completely shirtless. 

You've made the mistake of pacing your office during this call, phone to your ear as you stop dead in your tracks at the window to get a good look at him. Lip bitten between your teeth, your eyes trail down a line of sweat that runs down his muscular back. 

It's like every freckle that decorates his body is shining under the afternoon sun, begging you to trace your tongue over them like you have a hundred times by now. The muscles on his back ripple as he pulls up a weed, bicep flexed and firm as he tosses it to the side. His hands are covered in tan, leather work gloves, and you have to hold down a whimper as you watch one come up to wipe sweat from his brow. 

God, you wish those hands were on you right now. 

You watch as Ludwig waddles up to Brett's side, and presses his little face into his ribs. Brett laughs and pet behind Ludwig's ears, before gently pushing him out of his way. 

Soon enough, Ember and Princess Tangerine have joined their brother, the three cats circling and snuggling up to Brett while he tries to work. Your chest fills with warmth, watching as your husband pauses to give his cats the attention they're asking for. The same attention you're needing right now too. 

The CEO you're on the phone with asks you a question, just as your husband looks up and catches you checking him out. You stutter, eyes wide as you quickly turn away from the window. 

"Sorry, um, bad connection, could you repeat that for me?" You ask sweetly, hoping your tone covers for your distraction. 

A few minutes later, call finished, and manicured nails clacking away on your laptop as you write up a summary report, you're again interrupted by a knock on your door. 

Brett doesn't wait for an answer before pushing the thing open, Princess wrapped up in one of his arms, bare chest still glistening from the sweat and heat. He smirks when your eyes darken and flash down to silver hairs at the top of his waistline. 

"Think you could keep the babies in here with you, Sweetheart? They're very..." His expression falls down to collar of your shirt, baby pink and low enough that the curve of your breasts peaks out. Fuck, even working from home you make sure to look so pretty and utterly delicious. "Distracting." 

He doesn't miss the gulp in your throat, the slight tremor in your movements. Oh, you're so on edge. His smirk deepens. 

But you nod, looking back up at his face again. "Yup, no problem." 

He pushes the door wider to let Ember and Ludwig trail in, the two of them instantly make circles at your feet, meowing up a storm. Brett follows them slowly, brushing the fingers of his free hand over your cheek, feeling its warmth. There's a buzz to the way you instantly lean into his touch, a small gasp freeing from your lips, eyes blinking up wide at him. 

But Brett simply places Princess into your lap, and kisses the top of your head, "Thanks, Sweetheart, I'll let you get back to work." 

You can't see the pleased smile on his face as he hears you let out just the tiniest, neediest whimper, when he quickly walks out the door. 

+ 

The first real break you get is around dinner time, the smell of Brett's lemon and herb salmon calls to you like the siren's song out of your office. The cats trail at your feet, running to get their own little plate of fish he'd left for them.  

He'd showered at some point, his hair still damp and a little wild on the ends. Instead of a bare torso, he's put on his grey Pixies t-shirt, the one that's shrunk over the years and hugs him nice and tight. There's a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, the soft sound of Tchaikovsky plays as Brett moves swiftly around the kitchen. His head perks up at the sound of your bare feet tiptoeing into the room. 

"Hey Sweetheart, all done?" Brett asks as he slides a bit of salmon and pasta onto a little plate, the one with a print of pink shells and pearls on it. You'd bought it while thrifting together, when Brett spotted it all by itself in a row of plain white plates. He told you it was made for you. 

"No, I mean, for now, but I have the call with the Australians in like ten minutes, but..." Your gaze drifts to the plate of food, and you lick your lips. "God, that smells so good." 

Brett hums and holds the plate up to you, silently beckoning you to him. He chuckles when you reach for it, only to pout when he pulls the plate back. You're about to complain, when he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers splaying out on your lower back, inching to the curve of your ass, and he pushes your body into his. 

You gasp, eyes wide, heat passing between you. You've been restless all day, from the extra work to watching him, caught between needing to focus, and wanting to beg to have your brain turned off entirely on his dick. You feel it pressing up against you, and give in to the urge to roll your hips into you. 

Brett clicks his teeth, "Now, now, Baby girl, you're still working, technically. Just need to give you a little energy boost to get through this last stretch." His voice is dripping with honey, and he carefully sets your plate back on the counter. You watch as he pulls off a small piece of salmon, and he holds it up between two fingers. "Tell me if it's good, Sweetheart." 

You blink up at him, heart hammering in your chest so hard you think he must hear it, and your lips part for him. Brett presses the salmon inside, eyes dark and intense as he pulls his fingers out to let you swallow, and as soon as you do, he pushes them back in. Pointer and middle finger hit the back of your throat, and he curls them down until you gag a little, saliva collecting onto his hand. 

"Good, Baby girl?" 

You nod, moaning with your mouth full. 

There's a flash of delight in his eyes, and you suck on his fingers as he pulls them out again. Your eyes start to blink, barely able to stay open, tongue out and waiting for them to enter again, but instead you watch as he brings them to his mouth instead. 

You just about melt into him, whimpering when he moans at the taste of your spit. Your own hands find purchase on his chest, but before you can do anything to service the needs in your body, he's shoving the plate into your hands and turning you around to push you back to your office. 

"Well, Sweetheart, don't let me keep you from work," Brett says, in a tone far too chipper. 

But you only suck in a deep, annoyed breath, before turning back around to glare at him. "You...you asshole." 

"Who? Me?" He points to himself innocently, with the same fingers still shining from your spit. 

"Yes you," you point at him angrily. "You know what you're doing, putting those fucking paws all over me and then sending me away." 

"What, these puppy paws?" Brett pouts, knocking his fists together. 

"Puppy, yeah right."  

You turn to stomp back to your office, but let out a surprised squeak when Brett gives you a light spank on your way out. Mean. 

By the time you finish your meeting, every feeling of needing Brett and those paws to ravage you, is replaced with exhaustion. He finds you almost completely asleep at your desk, and helps you clean everything up, while you tiredly watch him. 

He carries you to bed, and you mumble something flirty about him undressing you, but it's too quiet and sleepily said for him to really hear. He just gives you a gentle laugh and lays you on the bed, kissing your cheek with an amused smile. 

+ 

You wake up in the morning completely unsatisfied, but to the smell of a full pancake and bacon breakfast. You're in your white silk nighty, which makes you frown since you know you fell asleep in your day clothes...which means your husband got you naked but didn't wake you up to relieve you of any of the aroused tension that had built up yesterday. What a jerk. 

You go through your morning routine; brushing your teeth, washing and moisturizing your face, applying a layer of sunscreen before your make up. The smell of butter and syrup and fresh bacon seeps in while you're pinning your hair, curls falling down to your shoulders. You quickly dress in a white and pink skirt and blouse combo, then step out of the bedroom. 

Brett, your stupid, asshole, sexy jerk of a husband isn't even in the kitchen when you enter. But your plate of breakfast is waiting next to a hot cup of coffee and a small glass of flowers plucked from the yard. 

Princess leaps onto the table, making full eye contact with you as she attempts to lick into your coffee. 

"No, no, you're not gonna like that," you coo as you scoop her up in your arms and gently place her on the floor. You enjoy your breakfast with her climbing around your feet, purring and whining to be held. "Yeah, I get it baby." 

The sound of metal clanging and drills whirring echoes from the garage, telling you what Brett's main project of today is going to be. After cleaning your dishes and picking Princess up again, you carefully pad into the garage. 

Beethoven is your husband's choice of soundtrack today, as he hums softly, bent over his four wheeler, the engine opened up in front of him. Ember and Ludwig sit calmly on the counter next to his work bench, and Princess leaps from your grasp to go join them.  

Oh fuck, he's already sweaty. Must have been up early to have gotten your breakfast made, and far enough in his project that the back of his shirt is stained with sweat. You watch, thighs pressed together, as those big hands of his grip tight to tools, screw in whatever, fingers dipping into wherever, working on that stupid machine instead of your body. 

He's so good with his hands. 

Your subtle, needy whine catches Brett's attention. 

He stands up straight and you can see the smirk when he looks over his shoulder at you. His arm muscle flexes even though he's stopped working, and he chuckles at the way your tongue flicks out to lick your lip. 

"Mornin' Sweetheart, hand me that wrench?" 

When you don't move, Brett's eyes flash down and then back to you expectantly. 

You feel a little lightheaded, hazy as you reach for the wrench sitting on the counter next to you. There's a familiar pull in your chest from the way you follow his command even though he's barely said anything to you. Your feet carry you to him, and you gently place the wrench in his waiting hand." 

"Thanks, Sweetheart," Brett's voice is light as he reads you. You're quiet, eyes cloudy but scanning him all over, lips bitten a little red. He pushes a stray hair behind your ear and you unconsciously close your eyes and lean into the touch. There's a small energy left in you, he can see you're not completely under yet, which is good considering you still have a whole work day to get through. 

Maybe he should feel bad for the teasing and the doting and the touches that lead to nowhere, but the knot of anticipation in his gut reminds him it's going to be so worth it. 

"Enjoy your breakfast?" 

The spark ignites in your eyes again, and you wake up fully from the haze he's putting you under. "Y-yes. Loved it. Thank you, Handsome." 

Brett smiles down at you. "Your makeup looks pretty, love the sparkles on your eyes." 

"Got video presentations today," you say, the sound of the words coming back from the distance he's pushed them into. You blink a few more times until you're fully back to yourself. "You're gonna need to keep it down in here." 

"Course, Sweetheart." He takes a step back from you to admire your outfit, a little less revealing than he's used to seeing from you at home, but you are trying to be professional. "Love this top on you too, Baby girl, you look so pretty. Who are the lucky souls that get like this all day?" 

You, you're getting me like this if it's the last thing I do. "Well, the Australians again, and then Nevada state government to discuss the solar panel farm, and then...I'm giving a video talk to that UCLA marketing class...all my time's gonna be taken up." 

Brett kisses away the frown that forms on your lips, "Don't worry, Sweetheart, we'll have some fun tonight when you're all done saving the world, okay?" 

"Okay," your voice is small again as you let him turn you and gently nudge you back to the door. You sneak one more look at him, just in time to watch him tear the sweaty shirt off his body. You whine again on your way out. 

+ 

Your day feels like it takes a full week to get through. Each presentation goes perfectly, but it's like everyone and their mother needs to ask you a million questions. Which of course you answer perfectly and cheerfully. 

During a small break for lunch, Brett drops you a specially made salad with strawberries he's been growing in the yard for you, and a little sticky note on your afternoon coffee with a message of encouragement. You'd tried to thank him, maybe get a little afternoon action between meetings, but when you'd been able to step out, he was already out of the house running errands. 

The rest of the day slugged on just like the first half, the only thing keeping your energy up was the third and fourth cups of coffee you downed. At some point you heard Brett's truck roll back up, and the soft sound of him greeting the cats. 

You wanted more than anything to feign an illness just so you could get the time in with all of them that you wanted. 

Finally, when the sun was already down, the crickets singing in the night right outside your office window, you wrapped up your final meeting. Instead of slumping down in your chair, however, you feel more energized than you have all day. You slam your laptop closed with a giddy smile, and practically run out of your office. 

The sight you are met with in the living room takes your breath away. 

Brett, sitting on his favorite chair, reclined back just a little, book in one hand, Ember curled up in the other, Princess Tangerine and Ludwig purring at his feet, face set in a stoney concentration...readers on. 

Fuck, he always looks so fucking hot in those glasses. Like a sexy professor you'd do anything to get an A plus from. 

It feels like every last ounce of strength in your body finally collapses, your skin is crawling, you just feel so jumpy, so out of it, and the only thing that you think about is your husband.  

"Brett?"  

His eyes snap up, smile cracking through his lips, and he closes his book, sits up straighter. "All done, Sweetheart? Want me to make some dinner? Or it's still early, we can go out—" 

"Brett!" 

The crack when you whine this time sets him on a higher alert. He puts his book to the side and looks at you, really looks at you. You're standing in the middle of the room, makeup and hair slightly out of place from wear of the day, hands tensing at your side, eyes wide and close to tears, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. 

He sets Ember to the floor, patting the cats until they all run in different directions, like they know what's about to happen shouldn't be for their eyes. 

When he's fully on his feet, hands in the pockets of the grey sweatpants he's thrown on, he stalks towards you slowly, chin tipped up, looking down at your. He's so big, so much taller than you, he looms over, projecting a dominant energy that permeates throughout the room.  

It does nothing to stop the restlessness of your body, only makes it worse. 

Brett stops only an inch from you, makes no move to touch you, just continues to look down and observe, reading every single twitch of aching need on your body. 

Your lip leaves your teeth and starts to tremble 

Brett clicks his tongue. "Feelin' antsy, Baby girl?" All you can do is nod. "Oh, I've been so unfair, haven't I?" You nod again. "Caught on my game last night, didn't you? Such a smart girl, but you're still here, still shaking for me." 

Your eyes close slightly, shaky breaths leaving your lips as you allow yourself to soak in the vibrations of his deep voice. A hitched breath escapes from you at the first touch of his fingers, tipping your chin up to open your attention back to his words, not just the sound of them. 

Brett knew what he was doing. He's felt a little guilty about it, the whole teasing and pushing your buttons and showing off, subtly pulling your strings in the direction he wants.  

And what he wants is to put you under and completely turn off your mind, turn you into the pretty, pliant thing that he can take care of. 

One thing he learned pretty quick about you, is that you'll work yourself up, stress yourself out by taking on so much, and you used to have no healthy outlets for it. From stress eating, to going on runs in the middle of the night, to hooking up with men who didn't give a damn about actually caring for you. When Brett came along, showed you what it really meant to put your body and mind in someone's hands, and have him keep it safely. 

Maybe these past two days he's been a little mean with that trust you put in him, but only because he knows he can make it worth it. The payoff always feels so much better when the buildup is steep. 

"Come here," Brett coos, gently placing his hands on your cheeks.  

You almost fall right into him, but he holds you steady as he presses his lips to yours for a kiss. You whimper into it and open up for him, let him lick into your mouth, let him bite softly at your lip. 

"'M sorry, Baby girl," Brett mumbles into your mouth. "I've been so mean, working you up like this. Want me to make it up to you?" You nod. "How? Whatever you want, sweet girl. How can I get you to let go tonight?" 

Carefully, your hands slide up to his sides, then upwards more until they're digging into his strong chest. Your voice is so small, so soft and distant when you answer, "The ropes?" 

Brett grins. 

+ 

It wasn't until after you got married that you learned about your husband's history with...a taboo sexual lifestyle. 

There were signs...the way you spent your first night calling him Sir and letting him take the lead was certainly a hint. But a small part of you just figured that was his personality.  

He's a leader at work, not in a control freak kind of way, but in a way where he guides people to be better. Sometimes that involves being demanding, sometimes that involves gently pushing people. He's the same way with you.  

At least in bed, if he ever tried to be demanding with you outside the bedroom, you'd never had married him. Not so quickly, anyway. 

The first time he ever told you about his...proclivities, it was about a month into the marriage, when you'd teased him into spanking you a little in bed. And when he did, you could feel he was holding back, so after you teased him about it more, tried to go on this whole explanation of how it's okay to be a little rougher in bed, and he'd cut you off with his own explanation of just how familiar he was with all that. 

A long conversation about histories and limits and safewords and next thing you knew, he had you tied and blindfolded on the bed screaming for him.  

It didn't take long for you to realize that Brett taking you apart, turning you into a whimpering, crying mess, was the perfect way to relieve all the stress you put on yourself. Those big hands, deep voice, and encouraging words of his are always there to catch and hold you in the fall. 

You don't partake in playing like this all the time, but god you love it when Brett thinks you need it. 

Tonight, Brett has you kneeling on the bed.  

A red rope wraps around your front, crossing over your chest to make an X between your breasts, and then over your shoulders where it encircles your arms over and over, with knots between each rung. Your arms are crossed behind your back, the rope tight enough to dig in, but not so bad that it would cut off your circulation. You just know you're going to have beautiful bruises in the patterns decorating your skin after. 

Brett is standing behind you, left in only his black briefs, petting through your hair, leading you in taking deep breaths as he kisses your neck. 

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do?" He asks, voice soft, one hand wrapping around to trace along your belly, the other keeping a firm grip on the final knot that locks your forearms together. He noses his way to your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. "Or do you want me to just take?" 

You lick your lips, thighs rubbing together, already soaked between them. "Just take, please, sir." 

"Alright, Baby girl," He pushes himself right up against your back, a wall of his warmth lighting up the fire of arousal in you. He snakes his hand down from your belly to your cunt, a soft grown erupting when his fingers are covered in your juices. "Know what I want first?" 

You nod, lip still worried between your teeth, nearly drawing blood. You release it when you feel a tight squeeze from his hand on your arms, gasping, "Yes, sir." 

"Good girl," his voice is deep, raspy, drawn down from his own arousal, buzzing on your neck. He places a quick kiss to that spot, a last little something gentle for a while, then shoves you face first into the bed. "Spread your legs f' me, that's it." 

Your cheek is hard on the mattress, back arched almost painfully, legs spread as your husband presses two thick fingers inside, and all the fantasies you've had in your mind from the last 24 hours are finally fulfilled. You're finally filled.  

There's a deliciously wet squelching sound as he fucks into you, nothing gentle about it, while you writhe and whine below him, hands flexing where they're stuck behind your back. You were already so pent up, getting what you want just feels more like a punishment than a relief, the waiting when you're so close now multiplying by a thousand. 

"Mmm, oh god, right there sir, fuck," you whimper already on the verge of tears.  

"I know, Baby girl, know what you need," Brett says, leaning over your body, warmth of his bare chest covering your back, prickling with goosebumps. His other hand palms at his dick, leaking and staining his underwear.  

Fuck, you're sucking his fingers in so hungrily, he could get his cock in you now and it would leave you with that pleasurable burn you love so much. He could fuck you into the mattress, use your body for his own release, make you come around him, crying and panting and spent. But that's not what you need. You need to be exhausted, you need to pushed from every corner of your mind, dumb and pliant, and smiley. 

Brett pushes his fingers down, rubbing the pads of them on that spot inside that sends electric wires through your brain, and your mouth drops open in a loud, high moan, feet kicking on the bed. You're already close, he knows it, just needs to push you over that first boundary line, turn off that first switch in your mind. 

There's already a coil about to burst in you, pussy clenching on his fingers, body begging to be fucked, as he slips a third one in. You're already panting, rocking your ass back toward him, and he hadn't told you not to move, but you still feel like you're being naughty. 

Brett feels it too, and with a smirk he quickly pulls his fingers out, but before you can cry from the loss, you're yelping, eyes open and wide, as he slaps your ass. 

"Close already? Oh baby, you were really feelin' bad, huh?" Brett mocks, spanking you again, and again, and again, until your ass starts to be bruised with the shape of his hand.  

"AH!" You cry out at every hit, body jolting, pussy gushing even more, pulsing around nothing. "Please, sir, please put 'em back in, I'll be good, just please!" 

"Yeah?" Brett asks, bringing his fingers back to your glistening folds, running his pointer and middle up and down, where more slick leaks out onto them. "Gonna be good and gimme what I like? Need that first, before everything else, need you gone." 

You shiver, but nod against the bed, eyes already red, face already blotchy. "Yes, yes, yes, sir, I'll give it to you, just please. Fuck me with your fingers sir, need 'em." 

He smacks your ass and pushes his fingers into you again, and you yell out his name, mouth open and heaving breaths. The crying turns quickly little squeaks from the back of your windpipe, high and uncontrolled, almost screams.  

You feel that warmth in your belly, legs shaking, Brett's fingers fucking into you hard, with purpose, and your pussy clamps down hard. You feel that extra urge, the one that grows each time he curls his fingers down, and your orgasm washes over you, crashing like waves through your body— 

"B-Brett, sir, oh god, it's come—ah, I'm coming, Fuckfuckfuck—" 

All ability to speak is cut off completely, your lungs go tight, body locking up as you scream, and come hard on his hand, squirting hard as his fingers are pushed out of your body, splashing onto the end of the bed. 

"Yeah, oh Sweetheart, that was so, fuck," Brett swears, slapping your ass again, and quickly pulling your body up to him, sitting upright. His hand works around to your front, those same three fingers quickly shove back in form this angle, curving up, palm rubbing at your clit as he just grinds in you. His hips roll into your ass, free hand grabbing you by the neck to tilt you up so he can kiss you hard, licking into your mouth. "Again, just a little more, Baby girl, come on, did so good, want a lil more." 

Your body convulses, pathetic whimper escapes from your lips, you melt back into him, thighs clenching as you feel another, smaller, fountain of juices rip from you, soaking the bed and his hand. "Oh, fuck." 

"Yeah, oh yeah, that's it," Brett moans, stubble rubbing against your cheek as he mumbles soft praises in your ear. He squeezes down on your neck for just a second, just a small moment to turn that fuzz forming in your brain up just a little. "Good girl, that's my girl." 

You fall forward on the bed, just barely missing the wet spot you've created, brain mushy and buzzy and airy. A very short minute passes while you hum and sway, listening to the rustling of Brett finally stripping away his last layer. Your body jumps when you feel him press his cock to your entrance. 

"Ready? Just want you to take it. Turn that pretty little, brilliant brain off, lemme take care of you," Brett coos, other hand coming up to your tied up forearms again, holding tight as his thumb rubs a small, comforting circle on your skin. He jerks his cock with your juices, grunting from his own touch, and you just nod, as the head of his cock pushes inside. 

He stops about an inch and lets himself just feel your wet heat. It's been too long for him too, and even though he was purposefully riling you up, you've been doing it just as bad to him without even trying. 

It's only when you start to whimper needily from the emptiness, that Brett pulls his cock out, only to force his whole length in you in one, hard thrust. You moan, eyes wide, breath punched out of you, body jerking forward from the strength of it.  

He stays deep inside for just a moment, long enough to watch you relax, before setting a brutal pace. 

"AH!" You cry out, body shaking, pussy clamping down. "Fuck, yes, yeah, feels so good', so fucking full." 

"That's right, feel how deep my cock is, Baby girl? Just what you needed, right? Needed a good dick to fuck you good and hard," Brett grunts, keeping up his movements. He pulls your hips just slightly, just enough to change the angle, head of his cock nudging right to your cervix. "Shit, baby girl, gonna fuck you dumb, so good f' me." 

You're crying, a loud screech fucked out of you every time Brett nails your cervix, and your belly starts to hurt so deliciously, you know you're gonna feel him for days. The empty days while he's on shift, leaving you unsatisfied and alone, you'll feel him still carved inside. 

All ability to speak is already gone, arms aching, ropes digging into your skin, the slap of skin on skin and Brett's deep moans filling your ears. Your back arches even more, pushing your ass out to him, teeth ripping into the sheets where you try to stifle your screams. 

And oh boy does Brett hate that. "Nah uh, no," he scolds, slapping your ass again. "You don't fucking cover that shit. Those are my moans, those are my screams, I fucking earned them. Be loud, Baby girl, only me here to hear what a fucking slut you are. Yeah, that's it," he grunts, your teeth release the sheet, after a particularly hard thrust. "Thought you were gonna be good and let me take?" 

"Yes, sir, yes," you whine, voice moving quick and desperate. You moan at the feeling of his hands moving from your rope covered arms and to your sides, holding you down at a near painful angle. "Feel so good sir, wanna come again, please, god, you fuck me s' good, need to come again!" 

"Still talking?" Brett lets out a breathless laugh. "You're not coming until you can't fucking think, sweet baby." 

He then yanks you up, your head falls back on his shoulder, and he grabs you by the elbows to fuck up into you, ass bouncing off his thighs. Your eyes start wide, alive, tear-filled, and Brett watches with a pinched expression, all focus on your pleasure. 

Brett quickly moves his hands again, grabbing roughly at your breasts, pinching your nipples until it hurts and you yelp, pleasure sparking from your chest and down your spine, until your cunt pulses around his cock. 

"Such a pretty thing," Brett whispers, kissing your cheek. "Let go, Baby girl, let me take care of you, let me take care of everything. Let go." 

Then he sees it happen. The fight and the awareness starts to fade, eyes start to glaze over, blacked out and distance. Your mouth is dropped open in wordless, breathy moans. You're under. 

"There she goes," he says proudly, finally, mercifully, bringing his fingers back down to your aching pussy, rubbing quick, hard circles on your clit. 

That same, relentless pleasure starts to grow in your belly again, building and building until your body starts to shake, feet kicking on the bed, eyes screwing shut, and your pussy spasms around his cock, gushing and one final time as you gasp for breath. 

"Oh, th-thank you sir, thank you, fuck, so good, sir," your voice his cracked and grows quieter with each word until there's nothing left. 

When all energy is expunged from you, Brett throws you back down on the bed. "Yeah, such a good girl for me, that was so fucking perfect, just what you needed, yeah? Now lemme use you till I come, so fuckin' tight, squeezin' me so good, love this pussy, love you—" 

Brett drives his cock into you one, two, three more times before he releases with a long groan, pulling your ass flush to him, cock deep inside as he comes in you.  

It takes a moment for his own high to come down, skin vibrating, hands petting softly up and down your hips. You're so calm now, body rising and falling slowly with deep breaths, dopey smile gracing your face. Brett can hear a soft hum with every outward breath, and he knows you've drifted off to somewhere quiet, somewhere sweet. 

Carefully, slowly, Brett pulls out, and he can't help the smile when you give almost no reaction to it. Wow, you're really gone, you really needed that. His strong hands lift you to shift you up the bed, so you can rest against the soft pillows instead, and he kneels behind you. 

Somewhere from off in the distant, cloudy happy place of your mind, you feel Brett's hands petting up and down your back, between your bound arms, over your shoulder blades, soothing every last bit of tension from your body. You hear his soft, deep voice lulling you back to him. 

"Feel better, Baby girl? Look at you all soft for me," he says, laying down next to you, running a hand up through your hair, pushing it from your face. "Come on back, Sweetheart, did so good for me." 

You let your mind drift back to him, into his touch and his words, the gentle touch of his lips to your cheek. You blink a few times to get the mist out of your eyes, all wide and refreshed as you look up at your husband.  

"There she is," he says, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Better?" 

Your voice hasn't quite come back yet, so you just nod, but then your face starts to scrunch up in pain. The strain from the ropes causes a cramp in your arms, and a little pained whine is the only sound you can make as you start to squirm. 

"Aw, Sweetheart hold on, hold on," Brett sighs, sitting up to pull you into his lap. Your face rests on his warm chest as he reaches behind you to start untying the ropes, twisting them over and over until the path he made is undone. Your arms are still a little stuck in place even after being freed, but Brett helps you stretch them out. "There you go," his breath is a little caught in his throat, eyes trained on every mark and indentation leftover from the ropes. Your skin is covered in patterns he made for you, little stripes that show just how much you trust him with your body. He helps you wrap your arms up around his neck. "Just stay here with me, Baby girl, I've got you." 

Minutes pass with you breathing together, ear pressed down to his chest where you can feel his heart beating. His hands continue to trace down your body, caressing the marks and soothing away the leftover pain. Finally, you start to really stir, moaning and turning in his arms, and you look up at him with a tired smile. 

"I love you, but you're evil," you say with a small yawn. "You did all that on purpose, knowing I couldn't have you." 

"Ha, I know, Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Brett says, kissing your nose. His hand flies up to push back his curls, and he doesn't miss the way your eyes widen and you whimper at the sight of his flexed bicep. 

"Why are you so fucking hot?" You groan, hiding your face in his neck. 

"Just lucky I guess." Brett shrugs. 

"Everything hurts." 

"In a good way, right?" 

"Of course." 

"Good," Brett says, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks. "Sorry we had to be so distant, Sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault, I wish I could have just scheduled those workdays when you were going to be gone," you sigh. Your fingers start to tap on his neck, pink nails scratching lightly on his freckled, tan skin.  

"I know, but that's not your fault," he assures you. "That's just how it goes sometimes, but I'll always be here when you stretch yourself too thin, you know that right?" 

"Yes," you hum, pressing your lips to his. The sweet moment is interrupted by a gurgling in your tummy, and you're suddenly brought completely back to your body, all it's aches and the stickiness of sex rushing in at once. You grimace, pouting, "Does your offer for dinner still stand?" 

"Anything you could ever want always stands with me. Want to go out?" He asks, then chuckles when you quickly shake your head, no way you could leave the house tonight in this state. "Alright, alright, I could make something? Or order in?" 

"Hmmm, order in?" You ask, curling closer to him. "You can clean me up while we wait for it to get here?" 

"Perfect plan, Sweetheart." Brett scoops you up in his strong arms, and you giggle as you grab onto him for balance. "Remind me to throw the sheets in the wash while we eat. You got them so messy, Baby girl." 

"Again," you groan. "It's always your fault. You make me do that." 

Brett laughs, standing up to carry you to the bath. "Yeah, and it's so fucking sexy every time." 

You're too exhausted to keep playfully arguing with him, body still humming with the satisfaction he fucked into you. Even as you're placed in the tub, you find it hard to take your hands off him, pinching and grabbing at his arms and sides while he maneuvers to get the warm water on. 

He just lets you touch, knows you're still coming down in some way, but he loves it. You're so strong in every part of your life, so being the thing that can help you relax, keep you sated and happy and ready to take on everything, is what fulfills him. 

He doesn't know what he did to deserve you, but he thanks every lucky star that he did. 

FIN 

A/N 2: god that was soooo much fun! i think the other chapters are going to be more of a balance between day to day and smuttiness :)))

REBLOG! COMMENT! GIVE KUDOS/COMMENTS TO ARCHIVE! remember likes don’t really help spread the Brett love ;)

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Your husband is like. Really hot. It's one of the first things you'd noticed about him, upon laying eyes on Brett up on that stage, talking about climate change's impact on wildfires.  

You're sure whatever he was saying was really important (actually you heard every word) and all that, but your focus was pulled to his tree trunk thighs, and taut stomach, and freckle-covered, bulging biceps, and kind, hazel eyes, and perfectly styled silver curls, and thick fingers...you distinctly remember drooling just a little. 

It's a majorly distracting trait of his. Along with the fact that he's annoyingly charming to the point that almost every word that comes out of his mouth on a good day, sounds like he's trying to lull you into bed. His low, sultry, gravely voice asks you how your day went, while those stupid big hands pet up and down your sides, or your back, or your thigh, and your panties are soaked and begging to be ripped off. 

It's majorly annoying that along with being super-hot, he's also the most thoughtful, level-headed, well-adjusted, and patient man you've ever met, let alone been with. He's so strong, mentally and physically, he builds you up or grounds you whenever you need, in anyway. 

Sadly, he also knows the effect he has on you, and for as much as you know how to tease the hell out of him, he can give it right back just as good. 

Why, oh why, did two of your busiest days working in the past month just have to align with his two days off shift from the station? Because now, instead of using every second to spend quality time with each other, in and out of bed, you're locked up in your home office, answering calls and finalizing presentations. 

Which wouldn't be too bad if not for the fact that Brett has decided to busy himself on these days off by doing chores around the house. 

It wouldn't be too bad if your office didn't have a perfect view of the butterfly garden, and Brett working hard to add more blooms to it. Completely shirtless. 

You've made the mistake of pacing your office during this call, phone to your ear as you stop dead in your tracks at the window to get a good look at him. Lip bitten between your teeth, your eyes trail down a line of sweat that runs down his muscular back. 

It's like every freckle that decorates his body is shining under the afternoon sun, begging you to trace your tongue over them like you have a hundred times by now. The muscles on his back ripple as he pulls up a weed, bicep flexed and firm as he tosses it to the side. His hands are covered in tan, leather work gloves, and you have to hold down a whimper as you watch one come up to wipe sweat from his brow. 

God, you wish those hands were on you right now. 

You watch as Ludwig waddles up to Brett's side, and presses his little face into his ribs. Brett laughs and pet behind Ludwig's ears, before gently pushing him out of his way. 

Soon enough, Ember and Princess Tangerine have joined their brother, the three cats circling and snuggling up to Brett while he tries to work. Your chest fills with warmth, watching as your husband pauses to give his cats the attention they're asking for. The same attention you're needing right now too. 

The CEO you're on the phone with asks you a question, just as your husband looks up and catches you checking him out. You stutter, eyes wide as you quickly turn away from the window. 

"Sorry, um, bad connection, could you repeat that for me?" You ask sweetly, hoping your tone covers for your distraction. 

A few minutes later, call finished, and manicured nails clacking away on your laptop as you write up a summary report, you're again interrupted by a knock on your door. 

Brett doesn't wait for an answer before pushing the thing open, Princess wrapped up in one of his arms, bare chest still glistening from the sweat and heat. He smirks when your eyes darken and flash down to silver hairs at the top of his waistline. 

"Think you could keep the babies in here with you, Sweetheart? They're very..." His expression falls down to collar of your shirt, baby pink and low enough that the curve of your breasts peaks out. Fuck, even working from home you make sure to look so pretty and utterly delicious. "Distracting." 

He doesn't miss the gulp in your throat, the slight tremor in your movements. Oh, you're so on edge. His smirk deepens. 

But you nod, looking back up at his face again. "Yup, no problem." 

He pushes the door wider to let Ember and Ludwig trail in, the two of them instantly make circles at your feet, meowing up a storm. Brett follows them slowly, brushing the fingers of his free hand over your cheek, feeling its warmth. There's a buzz to the way you instantly lean into his touch, a small gasp freeing from your lips, eyes blinking up wide at him. 

But Brett simply places Princess into your lap, and kisses the top of your head, "Thanks, Sweetheart, I'll let you get back to work." 

You can't see the pleased smile on his face as he hears you let out just the tiniest, neediest whimper, when he quickly walks out the door. 

+ 

The first real break you get is around dinner time, the smell of Brett's lemon and herb salmon calls to you like the siren's song out of your office. The cats trail at your feet, running to get their own little plate of fish he'd left for them.  

He'd showered at some point, his hair still damp and a little wild on the ends. Instead of a bare torso, he's put on his grey Pixies t-shirt, the one that's shrunk over the years and hugs him nice and tight. There's a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, the soft sound of Tchaikovsky plays as Brett moves swiftly around the kitchen. His head perks up at the sound of your bare feet tiptoeing into the room. 

"Hey Sweetheart, all done?" Brett asks as he slides a bit of salmon and pasta onto a little plate, the one with a print of pink shells and pearls on it. You'd bought it while thrifting together, when Brett spotted it all by itself in a row of plain white plates. He told you it was made for you. 

"No, I mean, for now, but I have the call with the Australians in like ten minutes, but..." Your gaze drifts to the plate of food, and you lick your lips. "God, that smells so good." 

Brett hums and holds the plate up to you, silently beckoning you to him. He chuckles when you reach for it, only to pout when he pulls the plate back. You're about to complain, when he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers splaying out on your lower back, inching to the curve of your ass, and he pushes your body into his. 

You gasp, eyes wide, heat passing between you. You've been restless all day, from the extra work to watching him, caught between needing to focus, and wanting to beg to have your brain turned off entirely on his dick. You feel it pressing up against you, and give in to the urge to roll your hips into you. 

Brett clicks his teeth, "Now, now, Baby girl, you're still working, technically. Just need to give you a little energy boost to get through this last stretch." His voice is dripping with honey, and he carefully sets your plate back on the counter. You watch as he pulls off a small piece of salmon, and he holds it up between two fingers. "Tell me if it's good, Sweetheart." 

You blink up at him, heart hammering in your chest so hard you think he must hear it, and your lips part for him. Brett presses the salmon inside, eyes dark and intense as he pulls his fingers out to let you swallow, and as soon as you do, he pushes them back in. Pointer and middle finger hit the back of your throat, and he curls them down until you gag a little, saliva collecting onto his hand. 

"Good, Baby girl?" 

You nod, moaning with your mouth full. 

There's a flash of delight in his eyes, and you suck on his fingers as he pulls them out again. Your eyes start to blink, barely able to stay open, tongue out and waiting for them to enter again, but instead you watch as he brings them to his mouth instead. 

You just about melt into him, whimpering when he moans at the taste of your spit. Your own hands find purchase on his chest, but before you can do anything to service the needs in your body, he's shoving the plate into your hands and turning you around to push you back to your office. 

"Well, Sweetheart, don't let me keep you from work," Brett says, in a tone far too chipper. 

But you only suck in a deep, annoyed breath, before turning back around to glare at him. "You...you asshole." 

"Who? Me?" He points to himself innocently, with the same fingers still shining from your spit. 

"Yes you," you point at him angrily. "You know what you're doing, putting those fucking paws all over me and then sending me away." 

"What, these puppy paws?" Brett pouts, knocking his fists together. 

"Puppy, yeah right."  

You turn to stomp back to your office, but let out a surprised squeak when Brett gives you a light spank on your way out. Mean. 

By the time you finish your meeting, every feeling of needing Brett and those paws to ravage you, is replaced with exhaustion. He finds you almost completely asleep at your desk, and helps you clean everything up, while you tiredly watch him. 

He carries you to bed, and you mumble something flirty about him undressing you, but it's too quiet and sleepily said for him to really hear. He just gives you a gentle laugh and lays you on the bed, kissing your cheek with an amused smile. 

+ 

You wake up in the morning completely unsatisfied, but to the smell of a full pancake and bacon breakfast. You're in your white silk nighty, which makes you frown since you know you fell asleep in your day clothes...which means your husband got you naked but didn't wake you up to relieve you of any of the aroused tension that had built up yesterday. What a jerk. 

You go through your morning routine; brushing your teeth, washing and moisturizing your face, applying a layer of sunscreen before your make up. The smell of butter and syrup and fresh bacon seeps in while you're pinning your hair, curls falling down to your shoulders. You quickly dress in a white and pink skirt and blouse combo, then step out of the bedroom. 

Brett, your stupid, asshole, sexy jerk of a husband isn't even in the kitchen when you enter. But your plate of breakfast is waiting next to a hot cup of coffee and a small glass of flowers plucked from the yard. 

Princess leaps onto the table, making full eye contact with you as she attempts to lick into your coffee. 

"No, no, you're not gonna like that," you coo as you scoop her up in your arms and gently place her on the floor. You enjoy your breakfast with her climbing around your feet, purring and whining to be held. "Yeah, I get it baby." 

The sound of metal clanging and drills whirring echoes from the garage, telling you what Brett's main project of today is going to be. After cleaning your dishes and picking Princess up again, you carefully pad into the garage. 

Beethoven is your husband's choice of soundtrack today, as he hums softly, bent over his four wheeler, the engine opened up in front of him. Ember and Ludwig sit calmly on the counter next to his work bench, and Princess leaps from your grasp to go join them.  

Oh fuck, he's already sweaty. Must have been up early to have gotten your breakfast made, and far enough in his project that the back of his shirt is stained with sweat. You watch, thighs pressed together, as those big hands of his grip tight to tools, screw in whatever, fingers dipping into wherever, working on that stupid machine instead of your body. 

He's so good with his hands. 

Your subtle, needy whine catches Brett's attention. 

He stands up straight and you can see the smirk when he looks over his shoulder at you. His arm muscle flexes even though he's stopped working, and he chuckles at the way your tongue flicks out to lick your lip. 

"Mornin' Sweetheart, hand me that wrench?" 

When you don't move, Brett's eyes flash down and then back to you expectantly. 

You feel a little lightheaded, hazy as you reach for the wrench sitting on the counter next to you. There's a familiar pull in your chest from the way you follow his command even though he's barely said anything to you. Your feet carry you to him, and you gently place the wrench in his waiting hand." 

"Thanks, Sweetheart," Brett's voice is light as he reads you. You're quiet, eyes cloudy but scanning him all over, lips bitten a little red. He pushes a stray hair behind your ear and you unconsciously close your eyes and lean into the touch. There's a small energy left in you, he can see you're not completely under yet, which is good considering you still have a whole work day to get through. 

Maybe he should feel bad for the teasing and the doting and the touches that lead to nowhere, but the knot of anticipation in his gut reminds him it's going to be so worth it. 

"Enjoy your breakfast?" 

The spark ignites in your eyes again, and you wake up fully from the haze he's putting you under. "Y-yes. Loved it. Thank you, Handsome." 

Brett smiles down at you. "Your makeup looks pretty, love the sparkles on your eyes." 

"Got video presentations today," you say, the sound of the words coming back from the distance he's pushed them into. You blink a few more times until you're fully back to yourself. "You're gonna need to keep it down in here." 

"Course, Sweetheart." He takes a step back from you to admire your outfit, a little less revealing than he's used to seeing from you at home, but you are trying to be professional. "Love this top on you too, Baby girl, you look so pretty. Who are the lucky souls that get like this all day?" 

You, you're getting me like this if it's the last thing I do. "Well, the Australians again, and then Nevada state government to discuss the solar panel farm, and then...I'm giving a video talk to that UCLA marketing class...all my time's gonna be taken up." 

Brett kisses away the frown that forms on your lips, "Don't worry, Sweetheart, we'll have some fun tonight when you're all done saving the world, okay?" 

"Okay," your voice is small again as you let him turn you and gently nudge you back to the door. You sneak one more look at him, just in time to watch him tear the sweaty shirt off his body. You whine again on your way out. 

+ 

Your day feels like it takes a full week to get through. Each presentation goes perfectly, but it's like everyone and their mother needs to ask you a million questions. Which of course you answer perfectly and cheerfully. 

During a small break for lunch, Brett drops you a specially made salad with strawberries he's been growing in the yard for you, and a little sticky note on your afternoon coffee with a message of encouragement. You'd tried to thank him, maybe get a little afternoon action between meetings, but when you'd been able to step out, he was already out of the house running errands. 

The rest of the day slugged on just like the first half, the only thing keeping your energy up was the third and fourth cups of coffee you downed. At some point you heard Brett's truck roll back up, and the soft sound of him greeting the cats. 

You wanted more than anything to feign an illness just so you could get the time in with all of them that you wanted. 

Finally, when the sun was already down, the crickets singing in the night right outside your office window, you wrapped up your final meeting. Instead of slumping down in your chair, however, you feel more energized than you have all day. You slam your laptop closed with a giddy smile, and practically run out of your office. 

The sight you are met with in the living room takes your breath away. 

Brett, sitting on his favorite chair, reclined back just a little, book in one hand, Ember curled up in the other, Princess Tangerine and Ludwig purring at his feet, face set in a stoney concentration...readers on. 

Fuck, he always looks so fucking hot in those glasses. Like a sexy professor you'd do anything to get an A plus from. 

It feels like every last ounce of strength in your body finally collapses, your skin is crawling, you just feel so jumpy, so out of it, and the only thing that you think about is your husband.  

"Brett?"  

His eyes snap up, smile cracking through his lips, and he closes his book, sits up straighter. "All done, Sweetheart? Want me to make some dinner? Or it's still early, we can go out—" 

"Brett!" 

The crack when you whine this time sets him on a higher alert. He puts his book to the side and looks at you, really looks at you. You're standing in the middle of the room, makeup and hair slightly out of place from wear of the day, hands tensing at your side, eyes wide and close to tears, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. 

He sets Ember to the floor, patting the cats until they all run in different directions, like they know what's about to happen shouldn't be for their eyes. 

When he's fully on his feet, hands in the pockets of the grey sweatpants he's thrown on, he stalks towards you slowly, chin tipped up, looking down at your. He's so big, so much taller than you, he looms over, projecting a dominant energy that permeates throughout the room.  

It does nothing to stop the restlessness of your body, only makes it worse. 

Brett stops only an inch from you, makes no move to touch you, just continues to look down and observe, reading every single twitch of aching need on your body. 

Your lip leaves your teeth and starts to tremble 

Brett clicks his tongue. "Feelin' antsy, Baby girl?" All you can do is nod. "Oh, I've been so unfair, haven't I?" You nod again. "Caught on my game last night, didn't you? Such a smart girl, but you're still here, still shaking for me." 

Your eyes close slightly, shaky breaths leaving your lips as you allow yourself to soak in the vibrations of his deep voice. A hitched breath escapes from you at the first touch of his fingers, tipping your chin up to open your attention back to his words, not just the sound of them. 

Brett knew what he was doing. He's felt a little guilty about it, the whole teasing and pushing your buttons and showing off, subtly pulling your strings in the direction he wants.  

And what he wants is to put you under and completely turn off your mind, turn you into the pretty, pliant thing that he can take care of. 

One thing he learned pretty quick about you, is that you'll work yourself up, stress yourself out by taking on so much, and you used to have no healthy outlets for it. From stress eating, to going on runs in the middle of the night, to hooking up with men who didn't give a damn about actually caring for you. When Brett came along, showed you what it really meant to put your body and mind in someone's hands, and have him keep it safely. 

Maybe these past two days he's been a little mean with that trust you put in him, but only because he knows he can make it worth it. The payoff always feels so much better when the buildup is steep. 

"Come here," Brett coos, gently placing his hands on your cheeks.  

You almost fall right into him, but he holds you steady as he presses his lips to yours for a kiss. You whimper into it and open up for him, let him lick into your mouth, let him bite softly at your lip. 

"'M sorry, Baby girl," Brett mumbles into your mouth. "I've been so mean, working you up like this. Want me to make it up to you?" You nod. "How? Whatever you want, sweet girl. How can I get you to let go tonight?" 

Carefully, your hands slide up to his sides, then upwards more until they're digging into his strong chest. Your voice is so small, so soft and distant when you answer, "The ropes?" 

Brett grins. 

+ 

It wasn't until after you got married that you learned about your husband's history with...a taboo sexual lifestyle. 

There were signs...the way you spent your first night calling him Sir and letting him take the lead was certainly a hint. But a small part of you just figured that was his personality.  

He's a leader at work, not in a control freak kind of way, but in a way where he guides people to be better. Sometimes that involves being demanding, sometimes that involves gently pushing people. He's the same way with you.  

At least in bed, if he ever tried to be demanding with you outside the bedroom, you'd never had married him. Not so quickly, anyway. 

The first time he ever told you about his...proclivities, it was about a month into the marriage, when you'd teased him into spanking you a little in bed. And when he did, you could feel he was holding back, so after you teased him about it more, tried to go on this whole explanation of how it's okay to be a little rougher in bed, and he'd cut you off with his own explanation of just how familiar he was with all that. 

A long conversation about histories and limits and safewords and next thing you knew, he had you tied and blindfolded on the bed screaming for him.  

It didn't take long for you to realize that Brett taking you apart, turning you into a whimpering, crying mess, was the perfect way to relieve all the stress you put on yourself. Those big hands, deep voice, and encouraging words of his are always there to catch and hold you in the fall. 

You don't partake in playing like this all the time, but god you love it when Brett thinks you need it. 

Tonight, Brett has you kneeling on the bed.  

A red rope wraps around your front, crossing over your chest to make an X between your breasts, and then over your shoulders where it encircles your arms over and over, with knots between each rung. Your arms are crossed behind your back, the rope tight enough to dig in, but not so bad that it would cut off your circulation. You just know you're going to have beautiful bruises in the patterns decorating your skin after. 

Brett is standing behind you, left in only his black briefs, petting through your hair, leading you in taking deep breaths as he kisses your neck. 

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do?" He asks, voice soft, one hand wrapping around to trace along your belly, the other keeping a firm grip on the final knot that locks your forearms together. He noses his way to your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. "Or do you want me to just take?" 

You lick your lips, thighs rubbing together, already soaked between them. "Just take, please, sir." 

"Alright, Baby girl," He pushes himself right up against your back, a wall of his warmth lighting up the fire of arousal in you. He snakes his hand down from your belly to your cunt, a soft grown erupting when his fingers are covered in your juices. "Know what I want first?" 

You nod, lip still worried between your teeth, nearly drawing blood. You release it when you feel a tight squeeze from his hand on your arms, gasping, "Yes, sir." 

"Good girl," his voice is deep, raspy, drawn down from his own arousal, buzzing on your neck. He places a quick kiss to that spot, a last little something gentle for a while, then shoves you face first into the bed. "Spread your legs f' me, that's it." 

Your cheek is hard on the mattress, back arched almost painfully, legs spread as your husband presses two thick fingers inside, and all the fantasies you've had in your mind from the last 24 hours are finally fulfilled. You're finally filled.  

There's a deliciously wet squelching sound as he fucks into you, nothing gentle about it, while you writhe and whine below him, hands flexing where they're stuck behind your back. You were already so pent up, getting what you want just feels more like a punishment than a relief, the waiting when you're so close now multiplying by a thousand. 

"Mmm, oh god, right there sir, fuck," you whimper already on the verge of tears.  

"I know, Baby girl, know what you need," Brett says, leaning over your body, warmth of his bare chest covering your back, prickling with goosebumps. His other hand palms at his dick, leaking and staining his underwear.  

Fuck, you're sucking his fingers in so hungrily, he could get his cock in you now and it would leave you with that pleasurable burn you love so much. He could fuck you into the mattress, use your body for his own release, make you come around him, crying and panting and spent. But that's not what you need. You need to be exhausted, you need to pushed from every corner of your mind, dumb and pliant, and smiley. 

Brett pushes his fingers down, rubbing the pads of them on that spot inside that sends electric wires through your brain, and your mouth drops open in a loud, high moan, feet kicking on the bed. You're already close, he knows it, just needs to push you over that first boundary line, turn off that first switch in your mind. 

There's already a coil about to burst in you, pussy clenching on his fingers, body begging to be fucked, as he slips a third one in. You're already panting, rocking your ass back toward him, and he hadn't told you not to move, but you still feel like you're being naughty. 

Brett feels it too, and with a smirk he quickly pulls his fingers out, but before you can cry from the loss, you're yelping, eyes open and wide, as he slaps your ass. 

"Close already? Oh baby, you were really feelin' bad, huh?" Brett mocks, spanking you again, and again, and again, until your ass starts to be bruised with the shape of his hand.  

"AH!" You cry out at every hit, body jolting, pussy gushing even more, pulsing around nothing. "Please, sir, please put 'em back in, I'll be good, just please!" 

"Yeah?" Brett asks, bringing his fingers back to your glistening folds, running his pointer and middle up and down, where more slick leaks out onto them. "Gonna be good and gimme what I like? Need that first, before everything else, need you gone." 

You shiver, but nod against the bed, eyes already red, face already blotchy. "Yes, yes, yes, sir, I'll give it to you, just please. Fuck me with your fingers sir, need 'em." 

He smacks your ass and pushes his fingers into you again, and you yell out his name, mouth open and heaving breaths. The crying turns quickly little squeaks from the back of your windpipe, high and uncontrolled, almost screams.  

You feel that warmth in your belly, legs shaking, Brett's fingers fucking into you hard, with purpose, and your pussy clamps down hard. You feel that extra urge, the one that grows each time he curls his fingers down, and your orgasm washes over you, crashing like waves through your body— 

"B-Brett, sir, oh god, it's come—ah, I'm coming, Fuckfuckfuck—" 

All ability to speak is cut off completely, your lungs go tight, body locking up as you scream, and come hard on his hand, squirting hard as his fingers are pushed out of your body, splashing onto the end of the bed. 

"Yeah, oh Sweetheart, that was so, fuck," Brett swears, slapping your ass again, and quickly pulling your body up to him, sitting upright. His hand works around to your front, those same three fingers quickly shove back in form this angle, curving up, palm rubbing at your clit as he just grinds in you. His hips roll into your ass, free hand grabbing you by the neck to tilt you up so he can kiss you hard, licking into your mouth. "Again, just a little more, Baby girl, come on, did so good, want a lil more." 

Your body convulses, pathetic whimper escapes from your lips, you melt back into him, thighs clenching as you feel another, smaller, fountain of juices rip from you, soaking the bed and his hand. "Oh, fuck." 

"Yeah, oh yeah, that's it," Brett moans, stubble rubbing against your cheek as he mumbles soft praises in your ear. He squeezes down on your neck for just a second, just a small moment to turn that fuzz forming in your brain up just a little. "Good girl, that's my girl." 

You fall forward on the bed, just barely missing the wet spot you've created, brain mushy and buzzy and airy. A very short minute passes while you hum and sway, listening to the rustling of Brett finally stripping away his last layer. Your body jumps when you feel him press his cock to your entrance. 

"Ready? Just want you to take it. Turn that pretty little, brilliant brain off, lemme take care of you," Brett coos, other hand coming up to your tied up forearms again, holding tight as his thumb rubs a small, comforting circle on your skin. He jerks his cock with your juices, grunting from his own touch, and you just nod, as the head of his cock pushes inside. 

He stops about an inch and lets himself just feel your wet heat. It's been too long for him too, and even though he was purposefully riling you up, you've been doing it just as bad to him without even trying. 

It's only when you start to whimper needily from the emptiness, that Brett pulls his cock out, only to force his whole length in you in one, hard thrust. You moan, eyes wide, breath punched out of you, body jerking forward from the strength of it.  

He stays deep inside for just a moment, long enough to watch you relax, before setting a brutal pace. 

"AH!" You cry out, body shaking, pussy clamping down. "Fuck, yes, yeah, feels so good', so fucking full." 

"That's right, feel how deep my cock is, Baby girl? Just what you needed, right? Needed a good dick to fuck you good and hard," Brett grunts, keeping up his movements. He pulls your hips just slightly, just enough to change the angle, head of his cock nudging right to your cervix. "Shit, baby girl, gonna fuck you dumb, so good f' me." 

You're crying, a loud screech fucked out of you every time Brett nails your cervix, and your belly starts to hurt so deliciously, you know you're gonna feel him for days. The empty days while he's on shift, leaving you unsatisfied and alone, you'll feel him still carved inside. 

All ability to speak is already gone, arms aching, ropes digging into your skin, the slap of skin on skin and Brett's deep moans filling your ears. Your back arches even more, pushing your ass out to him, teeth ripping into the sheets where you try to stifle your screams. 

And oh boy does Brett hate that. "Nah uh, no," he scolds, slapping your ass again. "You don't fucking cover that shit. Those are my moans, those are my screams, I fucking earned them. Be loud, Baby girl, only me here to hear what a fucking slut you are. Yeah, that's it," he grunts, your teeth release the sheet, after a particularly hard thrust. "Thought you were gonna be good and let me take?" 

"Yes, sir, yes," you whine, voice moving quick and desperate. You moan at the feeling of his hands moving from your rope covered arms and to your sides, holding you down at a near painful angle. "Feel so good sir, wanna come again, please, god, you fuck me s' good, need to come again!" 

"Still talking?" Brett lets out a breathless laugh. "You're not coming until you can't fucking think, sweet baby." 

He then yanks you up, your head falls back on his shoulder, and he grabs you by the elbows to fuck up into you, ass bouncing off his thighs. Your eyes start wide, alive, tear-filled, and Brett watches with a pinched expression, all focus on your pleasure. 

Brett quickly moves his hands again, grabbing roughly at your breasts, pinching your nipples until it hurts and you yelp, pleasure sparking from your chest and down your spine, until your cunt pulses around his cock. 

"Such a pretty thing," Brett whispers, kissing your cheek. "Let go, Baby girl, let me take care of you, let me take care of everything. Let go." 

Then he sees it happen. The fight and the awareness starts to fade, eyes start to glaze over, blacked out and distance. Your mouth is dropped open in wordless, breathy moans. You're under. 

"There she goes," he says proudly, finally, mercifully, bringing his fingers back down to your aching pussy, rubbing quick, hard circles on your clit. 

That same, relentless pleasure starts to grow in your belly again, building and building until your body starts to shake, feet kicking on the bed, eyes screwing shut, and your pussy spasms around his cock, gushing and one final time as you gasp for breath. 

"Oh, th-thank you sir, thank you, fuck, so good, sir," your voice his cracked and grows quieter with each word until there's nothing left. 

When all energy is expunged from you, Brett throws you back down on the bed. "Yeah, such a good girl for me, that was so fucking perfect, just what you needed, yeah? Now lemme use you till I come, so fuckin' tight, squeezin' me so good, love this pussy, love you—" 

Brett drives his cock into you one, two, three more times before he releases with a long groan, pulling your ass flush to him, cock deep inside as he comes in you.  

It takes a moment for his own high to come down, skin vibrating, hands petting softly up and down your hips. You're so calm now, body rising and falling slowly with deep breaths, dopey smile gracing your face. Brett can hear a soft hum with every outward breath, and he knows you've drifted off to somewhere quiet, somewhere sweet. 

Carefully, slowly, Brett pulls out, and he can't help the smile when you give almost no reaction to it. Wow, you're really gone, you really needed that. His strong hands lift you to shift you up the bed, so you can rest against the soft pillows instead, and he kneels behind you. 

Somewhere from off in the distant, cloudy happy place of your mind, you feel Brett's hands petting up and down your back, between your bound arms, over your shoulder blades, soothing every last bit of tension from your body. You hear his soft, deep voice lulling you back to him. 

"Feel better, Baby girl? Look at you all soft for me," he says, laying down next to you, running a hand up through your hair, pushing it from your face. "Come on back, Sweetheart, did so good for me." 

You let your mind drift back to him, into his touch and his words, the gentle touch of his lips to your cheek. You blink a few times to get the mist out of your eyes, all wide and refreshed as you look up at your husband.  

"There she is," he says, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Better?" 

Your voice hasn't quite come back yet, so you just nod, but then your face starts to scrunch up in pain. The strain from the ropes causes a cramp in your arms, and a little pained whine is the only sound you can make as you start to squirm. 

"Aw, Sweetheart hold on, hold on," Brett sighs, sitting up to pull you into his lap. Your face rests on his warm chest as he reaches behind you to start untying the ropes, twisting them over and over until the path he made is undone. Your arms are still a little stuck in place even after being freed, but Brett helps you stretch them out. "There you go," his breath is a little caught in his throat, eyes trained on every mark and indentation leftover from the ropes. Your skin is covered in patterns he made for you, little stripes that show just how much you trust him with your body. He helps you wrap your arms up around his neck. "Just stay here with me, Baby girl, I've got you." 

Minutes pass with you breathing together, ear pressed down to his chest where you can feel his heart beating. His hands continue to trace down your body, caressing the marks and soothing away the leftover pain. Finally, you start to really stir, moaning and turning in his arms, and you look up at him with a tired smile. 

"I love you, but you're evil," you say with a small yawn. "You did all that on purpose, knowing I couldn't have you." 

"Ha, I know, Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Brett says, kissing your nose. His hand flies up to push back his curls, and he doesn't miss the way your eyes widen and you whimper at the sight of his flexed bicep. 

"Why are you so fucking hot?" You groan, hiding your face in his neck. 

"Just lucky I guess." Brett shrugs. 

"Everything hurts." 

"In a good way, right?" 

"Of course." 

"Good," Brett says, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks. "Sorry we had to be so distant, Sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault, I wish I could have just scheduled those workdays when you were going to be gone," you sigh. Your fingers start to tap on his neck, pink nails scratching lightly on his freckled, tan skin.  

"I know, but that's not your fault," he assures you. "That's just how it goes sometimes, but I'll always be here when you stretch yourself too thin, you know that right?" 

"Yes," you hum, pressing your lips to his. The sweet moment is interrupted by a gurgling in your tummy, and you're suddenly brought completely back to your body, all it's aches and the stickiness of sex rushing in at once. You grimace, pouting, "Does your offer for dinner still stand?" 

"Anything you could ever want always stands with me. Want to go out?" He asks, then chuckles when you quickly shake your head, no way you could leave the house tonight in this state. "Alright, alright, I could make something? Or order in?" 

"Hmmm, order in?" You ask, curling closer to him. "You can clean me up while we wait for it to get here?" 

"Perfect plan, Sweetheart." Brett scoops you up in his strong arms, and you giggle as you grab onto him for balance. "Remind me to throw the sheets in the wash while we eat. You got them so messy, Baby girl." 

"Again," you groan. "It's always your fault. You make me do that." 

Brett laughs, standing up to carry you to the bath. "Yeah, and it's so fucking sexy every time." 

You're too exhausted to keep playfully arguing with him, body still humming with the satisfaction he fucked into you. Even as you're placed in the tub, you find it hard to take your hands off him, pinching and grabbing at his arms and sides while he maneuvers to get the warm water on. 

He just lets you touch, knows you're still coming down in some way, but he loves it. You're so strong in every part of your life, so being the thing that can help you relax, keep you sated and happy and ready to take on everything, is what fulfills him. 

He doesn't know what he did to deserve you, but he thanks every lucky star that he did. 

FIN 

A/N 2: god that was soooo much fun! i think the other chapters are going to be more of a balance between day to day and smuttiness :)))

REBLOG! COMMENT! GIVE KUDOS/COMMENTS TO ARCHIVE! remember likes don’t really help spread the Brett love ;)

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Your husband is like. Really hot. It's one of the first things you'd noticed about him, upon laying eyes on Brett up on that stage, talking about climate change's impact on wildfires.  

You're sure whatever he was saying was really important (actually you heard every word) and all that, but your focus was pulled to his tree trunk thighs, and taut stomach, and freckle-covered, bulging biceps, and kind, hazel eyes, and perfectly styled silver curls, and thick fingers...you distinctly remember drooling just a little. 

It's a majorly distracting trait of his. Along with the fact that he's annoyingly charming to the point that almost every word that comes out of his mouth on a good day, sounds like he's trying to lull you into bed. His low, sultry, gravely voice asks you how your day went, while those stupid big hands pet up and down your sides, or your back, or your thigh, and your panties are soaked and begging to be ripped off. 

It's majorly annoying that along with being super-hot, he's also the most thoughtful, level-headed, well-adjusted, and patient man you've ever met, let alone been with. He's so strong, mentally and physically, he builds you up or grounds you whenever you need, in anyway. 

Sadly, he also knows the effect he has on you, and for as much as you know how to tease the hell out of him, he can give it right back just as good. 

Why, oh why, did two of your busiest days working in the past month just have to align with his two days off shift from the station? Because now, instead of using every second to spend quality time with each other, in and out of bed, you're locked up in your home office, answering calls and finalizing presentations. 

Which wouldn't be too bad if not for the fact that Brett has decided to busy himself on these days off by doing chores around the house. 

It wouldn't be too bad if your office didn't have a perfect view of the butterfly garden, and Brett working hard to add more blooms to it. Completely shirtless. 

You've made the mistake of pacing your office during this call, phone to your ear as you stop dead in your tracks at the window to get a good look at him. Lip bitten between your teeth, your eyes trail down a line of sweat that runs down his muscular back. 

It's like every freckle that decorates his body is shining under the afternoon sun, begging you to trace your tongue over them like you have a hundred times by now. The muscles on his back ripple as he pulls up a weed, bicep flexed and firm as he tosses it to the side. His hands are covered in tan, leather work gloves, and you have to hold down a whimper as you watch one come up to wipe sweat from his brow. 

God, you wish those hands were on you right now. 

You watch as Ludwig waddles up to Brett's side, and presses his little face into his ribs. Brett laughs and pet behind Ludwig's ears, before gently pushing him out of his way. 

Soon enough, Ember and Princess Tangerine have joined their brother, the three cats circling and snuggling up to Brett while he tries to work. Your chest fills with warmth, watching as your husband pauses to give his cats the attention they're asking for. The same attention you're needing right now too. 

The CEO you're on the phone with asks you a question, just as your husband looks up and catches you checking him out. You stutter, eyes wide as you quickly turn away from the window. 

"Sorry, um, bad connection, could you repeat that for me?" You ask sweetly, hoping your tone covers for your distraction. 

A few minutes later, call finished, and manicured nails clacking away on your laptop as you write up a summary report, you're again interrupted by a knock on your door. 

Brett doesn't wait for an answer before pushing the thing open, Princess wrapped up in one of his arms, bare chest still glistening from the sweat and heat. He smirks when your eyes darken and flash down to silver hairs at the top of his waistline. 

"Think you could keep the babies in here with you, Sweetheart? They're very..." His expression falls down to collar of your shirt, baby pink and low enough that the curve of your breasts peaks out. Fuck, even working from home you make sure to look so pretty and utterly delicious. "Distracting." 

He doesn't miss the gulp in your throat, the slight tremor in your movements. Oh, you're so on edge. His smirk deepens. 

But you nod, looking back up at his face again. "Yup, no problem." 

He pushes the door wider to let Ember and Ludwig trail in, the two of them instantly make circles at your feet, meowing up a storm. Brett follows them slowly, brushing the fingers of his free hand over your cheek, feeling its warmth. There's a buzz to the way you instantly lean into his touch, a small gasp freeing from your lips, eyes blinking up wide at him. 

But Brett simply places Princess into your lap, and kisses the top of your head, "Thanks, Sweetheart, I'll let you get back to work." 

You can't see the pleased smile on his face as he hears you let out just the tiniest, neediest whimper, when he quickly walks out the door. 

+ 

The first real break you get is around dinner time, the smell of Brett's lemon and herb salmon calls to you like the siren's song out of your office. The cats trail at your feet, running to get their own little plate of fish he'd left for them.  

He'd showered at some point, his hair still damp and a little wild on the ends. Instead of a bare torso, he's put on his grey Pixies t-shirt, the one that's shrunk over the years and hugs him nice and tight. There's a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, the soft sound of Tchaikovsky plays as Brett moves swiftly around the kitchen. His head perks up at the sound of your bare feet tiptoeing into the room. 

"Hey Sweetheart, all done?" Brett asks as he slides a bit of salmon and pasta onto a little plate, the one with a print of pink shells and pearls on it. You'd bought it while thrifting together, when Brett spotted it all by itself in a row of plain white plates. He told you it was made for you. 

"No, I mean, for now, but I have the call with the Australians in like ten minutes, but..." Your gaze drifts to the plate of food, and you lick your lips. "God, that smells so good." 

Brett hums and holds the plate up to you, silently beckoning you to him. He chuckles when you reach for it, only to pout when he pulls the plate back. You're about to complain, when he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers splaying out on your lower back, inching to the curve of your ass, and he pushes your body into his. 

You gasp, eyes wide, heat passing between you. You've been restless all day, from the extra work to watching him, caught between needing to focus, and wanting to beg to have your brain turned off entirely on his dick. You feel it pressing up against you, and give in to the urge to roll your hips into you. 

Brett clicks his teeth, "Now, now, Baby girl, you're still working, technically. Just need to give you a little energy boost to get through this last stretch." His voice is dripping with honey, and he carefully sets your plate back on the counter. You watch as he pulls off a small piece of salmon, and he holds it up between two fingers. "Tell me if it's good, Sweetheart." 

You blink up at him, heart hammering in your chest so hard you think he must hear it, and your lips part for him. Brett presses the salmon inside, eyes dark and intense as he pulls his fingers out to let you swallow, and as soon as you do, he pushes them back in. Pointer and middle finger hit the back of your throat, and he curls them down until you gag a little, saliva collecting onto his hand. 

"Good, Baby girl?" 

You nod, moaning with your mouth full. 

There's a flash of delight in his eyes, and you suck on his fingers as he pulls them out again. Your eyes start to blink, barely able to stay open, tongue out and waiting for them to enter again, but instead you watch as he brings them to his mouth instead. 

You just about melt into him, whimpering when he moans at the taste of your spit. Your own hands find purchase on his chest, but before you can do anything to service the needs in your body, he's shoving the plate into your hands and turning you around to push you back to your office. 

"Well, Sweetheart, don't let me keep you from work," Brett says, in a tone far too chipper. 

But you only suck in a deep, annoyed breath, before turning back around to glare at him. "You...you asshole." 

"Who? Me?" He points to himself innocently, with the same fingers still shining from your spit. 

"Yes you," you point at him angrily. "You know what you're doing, putting those fucking paws all over me and then sending me away." 

"What, these puppy paws?" Brett pouts, knocking his fists together. 

"Puppy, yeah right."  

You turn to stomp back to your office, but let out a surprised squeak when Brett gives you a light spank on your way out. Mean. 

By the time you finish your meeting, every feeling of needing Brett and those paws to ravage you, is replaced with exhaustion. He finds you almost completely asleep at your desk, and helps you clean everything up, while you tiredly watch him. 

He carries you to bed, and you mumble something flirty about him undressing you, but it's too quiet and sleepily said for him to really hear. He just gives you a gentle laugh and lays you on the bed, kissing your cheek with an amused smile. 

+ 

You wake up in the morning completely unsatisfied, but to the smell of a full pancake and bacon breakfast. You're in your white silk nighty, which makes you frown since you know you fell asleep in your day clothes...which means your husband got you naked but didn't wake you up to relieve you of any of the aroused tension that had built up yesterday. What a jerk. 

You go through your morning routine; brushing your teeth, washing and moisturizing your face, applying a layer of sunscreen before your make up. The smell of butter and syrup and fresh bacon seeps in while you're pinning your hair, curls falling down to your shoulders. You quickly dress in a white and pink skirt and blouse combo, then step out of the bedroom. 

Brett, your stupid, asshole, sexy jerk of a husband isn't even in the kitchen when you enter. But your plate of breakfast is waiting next to a hot cup of coffee and a small glass of flowers plucked from the yard. 

Princess leaps onto the table, making full eye contact with you as she attempts to lick into your coffee. 

"No, no, you're not gonna like that," you coo as you scoop her up in your arms and gently place her on the floor. You enjoy your breakfast with her climbing around your feet, purring and whining to be held. "Yeah, I get it baby." 

The sound of metal clanging and drills whirring echoes from the garage, telling you what Brett's main project of today is going to be. After cleaning your dishes and picking Princess up again, you carefully pad into the garage. 

Beethoven is your husband's choice of soundtrack today, as he hums softly, bent over his four wheeler, the engine opened up in front of him. Ember and Ludwig sit calmly on the counter next to his work bench, and Princess leaps from your grasp to go join them.  

Oh fuck, he's already sweaty. Must have been up early to have gotten your breakfast made, and far enough in his project that the back of his shirt is stained with sweat. You watch, thighs pressed together, as those big hands of his grip tight to tools, screw in whatever, fingers dipping into wherever, working on that stupid machine instead of your body. 

He's so good with his hands. 

Your subtle, needy whine catches Brett's attention. 

He stands up straight and you can see the smirk when he looks over his shoulder at you. His arm muscle flexes even though he's stopped working, and he chuckles at the way your tongue flicks out to lick your lip. 

"Mornin' Sweetheart, hand me that wrench?" 

When you don't move, Brett's eyes flash down and then back to you expectantly. 

You feel a little lightheaded, hazy as you reach for the wrench sitting on the counter next to you. There's a familiar pull in your chest from the way you follow his command even though he's barely said anything to you. Your feet carry you to him, and you gently place the wrench in his waiting hand." 

"Thanks, Sweetheart," Brett's voice is light as he reads you. You're quiet, eyes cloudy but scanning him all over, lips bitten a little red. He pushes a stray hair behind your ear and you unconsciously close your eyes and lean into the touch. There's a small energy left in you, he can see you're not completely under yet, which is good considering you still have a whole work day to get through. 

Maybe he should feel bad for the teasing and the doting and the touches that lead to nowhere, but the knot of anticipation in his gut reminds him it's going to be so worth it. 

"Enjoy your breakfast?" 

The spark ignites in your eyes again, and you wake up fully from the haze he's putting you under. "Y-yes. Loved it. Thank you, Handsome." 

Brett smiles down at you. "Your makeup looks pretty, love the sparkles on your eyes." 

"Got video presentations today," you say, the sound of the words coming back from the distance he's pushed them into. You blink a few more times until you're fully back to yourself. "You're gonna need to keep it down in here." 

"Course, Sweetheart." He takes a step back from you to admire your outfit, a little less revealing than he's used to seeing from you at home, but you are trying to be professional. "Love this top on you too, Baby girl, you look so pretty. Who are the lucky souls that get like this all day?" 

You, you're getting me like this if it's the last thing I do. "Well, the Australians again, and then Nevada state government to discuss the solar panel farm, and then...I'm giving a video talk to that UCLA marketing class...all my time's gonna be taken up." 

Brett kisses away the frown that forms on your lips, "Don't worry, Sweetheart, we'll have some fun tonight when you're all done saving the world, okay?" 

"Okay," your voice is small again as you let him turn you and gently nudge you back to the door. You sneak one more look at him, just in time to watch him tear the sweaty shirt off his body. You whine again on your way out. 

+ 

Your day feels like it takes a full week to get through. Each presentation goes perfectly, but it's like everyone and their mother needs to ask you a million questions. Which of course you answer perfectly and cheerfully. 

During a small break for lunch, Brett drops you a specially made salad with strawberries he's been growing in the yard for you, and a little sticky note on your afternoon coffee with a message of encouragement. You'd tried to thank him, maybe get a little afternoon action between meetings, but when you'd been able to step out, he was already out of the house running errands. 

The rest of the day slugged on just like the first half, the only thing keeping your energy up was the third and fourth cups of coffee you downed. At some point you heard Brett's truck roll back up, and the soft sound of him greeting the cats. 

You wanted more than anything to feign an illness just so you could get the time in with all of them that you wanted. 

Finally, when the sun was already down, the crickets singing in the night right outside your office window, you wrapped up your final meeting. Instead of slumping down in your chair, however, you feel more energized than you have all day. You slam your laptop closed with a giddy smile, and practically run out of your office. 

The sight you are met with in the living room takes your breath away. 

Brett, sitting on his favorite chair, reclined back just a little, book in one hand, Ember curled up in the other, Princess Tangerine and Ludwig purring at his feet, face set in a stoney concentration...readers on. 

Fuck, he always looks so fucking hot in those glasses. Like a sexy professor you'd do anything to get an A plus from. 

It feels like every last ounce of strength in your body finally collapses, your skin is crawling, you just feel so jumpy, so out of it, and the only thing that you think about is your husband.  

"Brett?"  

His eyes snap up, smile cracking through his lips, and he closes his book, sits up straighter. "All done, Sweetheart? Want me to make some dinner? Or it's still early, we can go out—" 

"Brett!" 

The crack when you whine this time sets him on a higher alert. He puts his book to the side and looks at you, really looks at you. You're standing in the middle of the room, makeup and hair slightly out of place from wear of the day, hands tensing at your side, eyes wide and close to tears, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. 

He sets Ember to the floor, patting the cats until they all run in different directions, like they know what's about to happen shouldn't be for their eyes. 

When he's fully on his feet, hands in the pockets of the grey sweatpants he's thrown on, he stalks towards you slowly, chin tipped up, looking down at your. He's so big, so much taller than you, he looms over, projecting a dominant energy that permeates throughout the room.  

It does nothing to stop the restlessness of your body, only makes it worse. 

Brett stops only an inch from you, makes no move to touch you, just continues to look down and observe, reading every single twitch of aching need on your body. 

Your lip leaves your teeth and starts to tremble 

Brett clicks his tongue. "Feelin' antsy, Baby girl?" All you can do is nod. "Oh, I've been so unfair, haven't I?" You nod again. "Caught on my game last night, didn't you? Such a smart girl, but you're still here, still shaking for me." 

Your eyes close slightly, shaky breaths leaving your lips as you allow yourself to soak in the vibrations of his deep voice. A hitched breath escapes from you at the first touch of his fingers, tipping your chin up to open your attention back to his words, not just the sound of them. 

Brett knew what he was doing. He's felt a little guilty about it, the whole teasing and pushing your buttons and showing off, subtly pulling your strings in the direction he wants.  

And what he wants is to put you under and completely turn off your mind, turn you into the pretty, pliant thing that he can take care of. 

One thing he learned pretty quick about you, is that you'll work yourself up, stress yourself out by taking on so much, and you used to have no healthy outlets for it. From stress eating, to going on runs in the middle of the night, to hooking up with men who didn't give a damn about actually caring for you. When Brett came along, showed you what it really meant to put your body and mind in someone's hands, and have him keep it safely. 

Maybe these past two days he's been a little mean with that trust you put in him, but only because he knows he can make it worth it. The payoff always feels so much better when the buildup is steep. 

"Come here," Brett coos, gently placing his hands on your cheeks.  

You almost fall right into him, but he holds you steady as he presses his lips to yours for a kiss. You whimper into it and open up for him, let him lick into your mouth, let him bite softly at your lip. 

"'M sorry, Baby girl," Brett mumbles into your mouth. "I've been so mean, working you up like this. Want me to make it up to you?" You nod. "How? Whatever you want, sweet girl. How can I get you to let go tonight?" 

Carefully, your hands slide up to his sides, then upwards more until they're digging into his strong chest. Your voice is so small, so soft and distant when you answer, "The ropes?" 

Brett grins. 

+ 

It wasn't until after you got married that you learned about your husband's history with...a taboo sexual lifestyle. 

There were signs...the way you spent your first night calling him Sir and letting him take the lead was certainly a hint. But a small part of you just figured that was his personality.  

He's a leader at work, not in a control freak kind of way, but in a way where he guides people to be better. Sometimes that involves being demanding, sometimes that involves gently pushing people. He's the same way with you.  

At least in bed, if he ever tried to be demanding with you outside the bedroom, you'd never had married him. Not so quickly, anyway. 

The first time he ever told you about his...proclivities, it was about a month into the marriage, when you'd teased him into spanking you a little in bed. And when he did, you could feel he was holding back, so after you teased him about it more, tried to go on this whole explanation of how it's okay to be a little rougher in bed, and he'd cut you off with his own explanation of just how familiar he was with all that. 

A long conversation about histories and limits and safewords and next thing you knew, he had you tied and blindfolded on the bed screaming for him.  

It didn't take long for you to realize that Brett taking you apart, turning you into a whimpering, crying mess, was the perfect way to relieve all the stress you put on yourself. Those big hands, deep voice, and encouraging words of his are always there to catch and hold you in the fall. 

You don't partake in playing like this all the time, but god you love it when Brett thinks you need it. 

Tonight, Brett has you kneeling on the bed.  

A red rope wraps around your front, crossing over your chest to make an X between your breasts, and then over your shoulders where it encircles your arms over and over, with knots between each rung. Your arms are crossed behind your back, the rope tight enough to dig in, but not so bad that it would cut off your circulation. You just know you're going to have beautiful bruises in the patterns decorating your skin after. 

Brett is standing behind you, left in only his black briefs, petting through your hair, leading you in taking deep breaths as he kisses your neck. 

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do?" He asks, voice soft, one hand wrapping around to trace along your belly, the other keeping a firm grip on the final knot that locks your forearms together. He noses his way to your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. "Or do you want me to just take?" 

You lick your lips, thighs rubbing together, already soaked between them. "Just take, please, sir." 

"Alright, Baby girl," He pushes himself right up against your back, a wall of his warmth lighting up the fire of arousal in you. He snakes his hand down from your belly to your cunt, a soft grown erupting when his fingers are covered in your juices. "Know what I want first?" 

You nod, lip still worried between your teeth, nearly drawing blood. You release it when you feel a tight squeeze from his hand on your arms, gasping, "Yes, sir." 

"Good girl," his voice is deep, raspy, drawn down from his own arousal, buzzing on your neck. He places a quick kiss to that spot, a last little something gentle for a while, then shoves you face first into the bed. "Spread your legs f' me, that's it." 

Your cheek is hard on the mattress, back arched almost painfully, legs spread as your husband presses two thick fingers inside, and all the fantasies you've had in your mind from the last 24 hours are finally fulfilled. You're finally filled.  

There's a deliciously wet squelching sound as he fucks into you, nothing gentle about it, while you writhe and whine below him, hands flexing where they're stuck behind your back. You were already so pent up, getting what you want just feels more like a punishment than a relief, the waiting when you're so close now multiplying by a thousand. 

"Mmm, oh god, right there sir, fuck," you whimper already on the verge of tears.  

"I know, Baby girl, know what you need," Brett says, leaning over your body, warmth of his bare chest covering your back, prickling with goosebumps. His other hand palms at his dick, leaking and staining his underwear.  

Fuck, you're sucking his fingers in so hungrily, he could get his cock in you now and it would leave you with that pleasurable burn you love so much. He could fuck you into the mattress, use your body for his own release, make you come around him, crying and panting and spent. But that's not what you need. You need to be exhausted, you need to pushed from every corner of your mind, dumb and pliant, and smiley. 

Brett pushes his fingers down, rubbing the pads of them on that spot inside that sends electric wires through your brain, and your mouth drops open in a loud, high moan, feet kicking on the bed. You're already close, he knows it, just needs to push you over that first boundary line, turn off that first switch in your mind. 

There's already a coil about to burst in you, pussy clenching on his fingers, body begging to be fucked, as he slips a third one in. You're already panting, rocking your ass back toward him, and he hadn't told you not to move, but you still feel like you're being naughty. 

Brett feels it too, and with a smirk he quickly pulls his fingers out, but before you can cry from the loss, you're yelping, eyes open and wide, as he slaps your ass. 

"Close already? Oh baby, you were really feelin' bad, huh?" Brett mocks, spanking you again, and again, and again, until your ass starts to be bruised with the shape of his hand.  

"AH!" You cry out at every hit, body jolting, pussy gushing even more, pulsing around nothing. "Please, sir, please put 'em back in, I'll be good, just please!" 

"Yeah?" Brett asks, bringing his fingers back to your glistening folds, running his pointer and middle up and down, where more slick leaks out onto them. "Gonna be good and gimme what I like? Need that first, before everything else, need you gone." 

You shiver, but nod against the bed, eyes already red, face already blotchy. "Yes, yes, yes, sir, I'll give it to you, just please. Fuck me with your fingers sir, need 'em." 

He smacks your ass and pushes his fingers into you again, and you yell out his name, mouth open and heaving breaths. The crying turns quickly little squeaks from the back of your windpipe, high and uncontrolled, almost screams.  

You feel that warmth in your belly, legs shaking, Brett's fingers fucking into you hard, with purpose, and your pussy clamps down hard. You feel that extra urge, the one that grows each time he curls his fingers down, and your orgasm washes over you, crashing like waves through your body— 

"B-Brett, sir, oh god, it's come—ah, I'm coming, Fuckfuckfuck—" 

All ability to speak is cut off completely, your lungs go tight, body locking up as you scream, and come hard on his hand, squirting hard as his fingers are pushed out of your body, splashing onto the end of the bed. 

"Yeah, oh Sweetheart, that was so, fuck," Brett swears, slapping your ass again, and quickly pulling your body up to him, sitting upright. His hand works around to your front, those same three fingers quickly shove back in form this angle, curving up, palm rubbing at your clit as he just grinds in you. His hips roll into your ass, free hand grabbing you by the neck to tilt you up so he can kiss you hard, licking into your mouth. "Again, just a little more, Baby girl, come on, did so good, want a lil more." 

Your body convulses, pathetic whimper escapes from your lips, you melt back into him, thighs clenching as you feel another, smaller, fountain of juices rip from you, soaking the bed and his hand. "Oh, fuck." 

"Yeah, oh yeah, that's it," Brett moans, stubble rubbing against your cheek as he mumbles soft praises in your ear. He squeezes down on your neck for just a second, just a small moment to turn that fuzz forming in your brain up just a little. "Good girl, that's my girl." 

You fall forward on the bed, just barely missing the wet spot you've created, brain mushy and buzzy and airy. A very short minute passes while you hum and sway, listening to the rustling of Brett finally stripping away his last layer. Your body jumps when you feel him press his cock to your entrance. 

"Ready? Just want you to take it. Turn that pretty little, brilliant brain off, lemme take care of you," Brett coos, other hand coming up to your tied up forearms again, holding tight as his thumb rubs a small, comforting circle on your skin. He jerks his cock with your juices, grunting from his own touch, and you just nod, as the head of his cock pushes inside. 

He stops about an inch and lets himself just feel your wet heat. It's been too long for him too, and even though he was purposefully riling you up, you've been doing it just as bad to him without even trying. 

It's only when you start to whimper needily from the emptiness, that Brett pulls his cock out, only to force his whole length in you in one, hard thrust. You moan, eyes wide, breath punched out of you, body jerking forward from the strength of it.  

He stays deep inside for just a moment, long enough to watch you relax, before setting a brutal pace. 

"AH!" You cry out, body shaking, pussy clamping down. "Fuck, yes, yeah, feels so good', so fucking full." 

"That's right, feel how deep my cock is, Baby girl? Just what you needed, right? Needed a good dick to fuck you good and hard," Brett grunts, keeping up his movements. He pulls your hips just slightly, just enough to change the angle, head of his cock nudging right to your cervix. "Shit, baby girl, gonna fuck you dumb, so good f' me." 

You're crying, a loud screech fucked out of you every time Brett nails your cervix, and your belly starts to hurt so deliciously, you know you're gonna feel him for days. The empty days while he's on shift, leaving you unsatisfied and alone, you'll feel him still carved inside. 

All ability to speak is already gone, arms aching, ropes digging into your skin, the slap of skin on skin and Brett's deep moans filling your ears. Your back arches even more, pushing your ass out to him, teeth ripping into the sheets where you try to stifle your screams. 

And oh boy does Brett hate that. "Nah uh, no," he scolds, slapping your ass again. "You don't fucking cover that shit. Those are my moans, those are my screams, I fucking earned them. Be loud, Baby girl, only me here to hear what a fucking slut you are. Yeah, that's it," he grunts, your teeth release the sheet, after a particularly hard thrust. "Thought you were gonna be good and let me take?" 

"Yes, sir, yes," you whine, voice moving quick and desperate. You moan at the feeling of his hands moving from your rope covered arms and to your sides, holding you down at a near painful angle. "Feel so good sir, wanna come again, please, god, you fuck me s' good, need to come again!" 

"Still talking?" Brett lets out a breathless laugh. "You're not coming until you can't fucking think, sweet baby." 

He then yanks you up, your head falls back on his shoulder, and he grabs you by the elbows to fuck up into you, ass bouncing off his thighs. Your eyes start wide, alive, tear-filled, and Brett watches with a pinched expression, all focus on your pleasure. 

Brett quickly moves his hands again, grabbing roughly at your breasts, pinching your nipples until it hurts and you yelp, pleasure sparking from your chest and down your spine, until your cunt pulses around his cock. 

"Such a pretty thing," Brett whispers, kissing your cheek. "Let go, Baby girl, let me take care of you, let me take care of everything. Let go." 

Then he sees it happen. The fight and the awareness starts to fade, eyes start to glaze over, blacked out and distance. Your mouth is dropped open in wordless, breathy moans. You're under. 

"There she goes," he says proudly, finally, mercifully, bringing his fingers back down to your aching pussy, rubbing quick, hard circles on your clit. 

That same, relentless pleasure starts to grow in your belly again, building and building until your body starts to shake, feet kicking on the bed, eyes screwing shut, and your pussy spasms around his cock, gushing and one final time as you gasp for breath. 

"Oh, th-thank you sir, thank you, fuck, so good, sir," your voice his cracked and grows quieter with each word until there's nothing left. 

When all energy is expunged from you, Brett throws you back down on the bed. "Yeah, such a good girl for me, that was so fucking perfect, just what you needed, yeah? Now lemme use you till I come, so fuckin' tight, squeezin' me so good, love this pussy, love you—" 

Brett drives his cock into you one, two, three more times before he releases with a long groan, pulling your ass flush to him, cock deep inside as he comes in you.  

It takes a moment for his own high to come down, skin vibrating, hands petting softly up and down your hips. You're so calm now, body rising and falling slowly with deep breaths, dopey smile gracing your face. Brett can hear a soft hum with every outward breath, and he knows you've drifted off to somewhere quiet, somewhere sweet. 

Carefully, slowly, Brett pulls out, and he can't help the smile when you give almost no reaction to it. Wow, you're really gone, you really needed that. His strong hands lift you to shift you up the bed, so you can rest against the soft pillows instead, and he kneels behind you. 

Somewhere from off in the distant, cloudy happy place of your mind, you feel Brett's hands petting up and down your back, between your bound arms, over your shoulder blades, soothing every last bit of tension from your body. You hear his soft, deep voice lulling you back to him. 

"Feel better, Baby girl? Look at you all soft for me," he says, laying down next to you, running a hand up through your hair, pushing it from your face. "Come on back, Sweetheart, did so good for me." 

You let your mind drift back to him, into his touch and his words, the gentle touch of his lips to your cheek. You blink a few times to get the mist out of your eyes, all wide and refreshed as you look up at your husband.  

"There she is," he says, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Better?" 

Your voice hasn't quite come back yet, so you just nod, but then your face starts to scrunch up in pain. The strain from the ropes causes a cramp in your arms, and a little pained whine is the only sound you can make as you start to squirm. 

"Aw, Sweetheart hold on, hold on," Brett sighs, sitting up to pull you into his lap. Your face rests on his warm chest as he reaches behind you to start untying the ropes, twisting them over and over until the path he made is undone. Your arms are still a little stuck in place even after being freed, but Brett helps you stretch them out. "There you go," his breath is a little caught in his throat, eyes trained on every mark and indentation leftover from the ropes. Your skin is covered in patterns he made for you, little stripes that show just how much you trust him with your body. He helps you wrap your arms up around his neck. "Just stay here with me, Baby girl, I've got you." 

Minutes pass with you breathing together, ear pressed down to his chest where you can feel his heart beating. His hands continue to trace down your body, caressing the marks and soothing away the leftover pain. Finally, you start to really stir, moaning and turning in his arms, and you look up at him with a tired smile. 

"I love you, but you're evil," you say with a small yawn. "You did all that on purpose, knowing I couldn't have you." 

"Ha, I know, Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Brett says, kissing your nose. His hand flies up to push back his curls, and he doesn't miss the way your eyes widen and you whimper at the sight of his flexed bicep. 

"Why are you so fucking hot?" You groan, hiding your face in his neck. 

"Just lucky I guess." Brett shrugs. 

"Everything hurts." 

"In a good way, right?" 

"Of course." 

"Good," Brett says, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks. "Sorry we had to be so distant, Sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault, I wish I could have just scheduled those workdays when you were going to be gone," you sigh. Your fingers start to tap on his neck, pink nails scratching lightly on his freckled, tan skin.  

"I know, but that's not your fault," he assures you. "That's just how it goes sometimes, but I'll always be here when you stretch yourself too thin, you know that right?" 

"Yes," you hum, pressing your lips to his. The sweet moment is interrupted by a gurgling in your tummy, and you're suddenly brought completely back to your body, all it's aches and the stickiness of sex rushing in at once. You grimace, pouting, "Does your offer for dinner still stand?" 

"Anything you could ever want always stands with me. Want to go out?" He asks, then chuckles when you quickly shake your head, no way you could leave the house tonight in this state. "Alright, alright, I could make something? Or order in?" 

"Hmmm, order in?" You ask, curling closer to him. "You can clean me up while we wait for it to get here?" 

"Perfect plan, Sweetheart." Brett scoops you up in his strong arms, and you giggle as you grab onto him for balance. "Remind me to throw the sheets in the wash while we eat. You got them so messy, Baby girl." 

"Again," you groan. "It's always your fault. You make me do that." 

Brett laughs, standing up to carry you to the bath. "Yeah, and it's so fucking sexy every time." 

You're too exhausted to keep playfully arguing with him, body still humming with the satisfaction he fucked into you. Even as you're placed in the tub, you find it hard to take your hands off him, pinching and grabbing at his arms and sides while he maneuvers to get the warm water on. 

He just lets you touch, knows you're still coming down in some way, but he loves it. You're so strong in every part of your life, so being the thing that can help you relax, keep you sated and happy and ready to take on everything, is what fulfills him. 

He doesn't know what he did to deserve you, but he thanks every lucky star that he did. 

FIN 

A/N 2: god that was soooo much fun! i think the other chapters are going to be more of a balance between day to day and smuttiness :)))

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