His date for the night is a tall man with glowing skin and eyes sharper than a blade. They were supposed to go to the movies, but given this sudden turn, it seems like they won’t be doing anything at all. They’re stranded in the middle of the road; a forest lies beside them, and Michael gets the feeling that something is about to attack them.

“I thought you said the car had enough gas,” his date notes, without malice. His voice is velvety, the words flowing effortlessly, as if they weren’t effectively lost.

“I thought so,” Michael repeats sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I checked it; I don’t know why this happened.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man assures him.

He stares at Michael: he’s fidgeting with his slender fingers in his lap, his big eyes darting in every direction. Being in the middle of nowhere clearly makes him anxious; there isn’t a soul around, it’s dark, and in the distance, faint sounds of an animal running through the trees can be heard, which seems to alarm Michael. He licks his lips.

“Are you scared, Michael?” he asks in a murmur, though no one else can hear.

His lips tremble before he answers. “No… it’s not that,” he lies, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s just… I’m thinking about how we can get out of this.”

His date lets out a low laugh, revealing a flash of white teeth. He doesn’t believe a word of it, but he loves watching Michael try to maintain his composure. He leans a little closer, his fingers reaching out to the denim of the boy’s jeans and gently stroking his thigh.

The caress and his date’s dark gaze make his heart race; the intensity of it leaves him feeling exposed, as if the other man knows exactly what is running through his fearful mind.

“Yeah?” he asks in a tone that makes the hair on Michael’s arms stand up. “And what do you have in mind, hm?”

Before Michael can process the question, a loud, sharp crack echoes from deep within the woods. He jumps in his seat, lets out a stifled gasp, and—purely on instinct—clutches his date’s arm, digging his fingernails into the fabric of the jacket.

His grip is tight, almost painful, but his date doesn’t flinch; instead, a spark of fascination gleams in his eyes. He can feel the uncontrollable trembling and almost hears the wild pounding of his heart in the heavy silence.

“Relax…” he murmurs, taking a trembling hand and cupping it between his own; he brings the knuckles to his lips and plants a soft kiss. “It was surely just a branch, you’re safe with me.”

Michael swallows hard, feeling the warmth of his date’s lips against his skin; the gesture, while comforting, only made his pulse race faster. There’s something about this man’s calmness that feels overwhelming, though he tries to tell himself it’s simply because they are alone in this dreadful place.

“Safe?” Michael repeats, trying to steady his breathing. He glances toward the darkness, where the silhouettes of tree branches seem to take the shape of claws. “We don’t know here, maybe it was a wild wolf or… or something worse.”

A silent laugh catches in his date’s chest; he finds Michael’s paranoia delightful to witness—it’s adorable. He interlaces his fingers with Michael’s and strokes the back of his hand with his thumb.

“What could be worse than a wolf? A generic horror movie monster?” he whispers with amusement, tilting his head. The moonlight accentuates his dark complexion, and his irises seem to sharpen.

Michael falls silent for a moment before frowning slightly. “Stop making fun; I’m serious. This place is really strange, we should’ve left before.”

The man breaks the hand-holding to cradle Michael’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly traces a defined cheekbone. Michael holds his breath, mesmerized by those deep irises and the heat radiating from the man’s hands, a stark contrast to the freezing night air.

“I’m not making fun of you, angel,” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. “It’s just… it’s fascinating how your imagination runs wild.”

“It’s not my imagination, it’s—”

“Shh…” the other man hushes him gently, grazing his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Just… focus on me, okay, angel?”

Michael freezes; the touch against his lip feels like a small electric shock. He tries to find a hint of mockery in his date’s face but finds only an absolute attentiveness that overwhelms him even more. He watches his gaze drop to his lips, with an expression he can only describe as hunger, before locking back onto his eyes.

“Y-you’re making me nervous,” Michael confesses in a whisper, even as he leans subtly into that warm touch.

“Really?” the other man replies flirtatiously, tracing his lip again. “I thought the forest was the problem…?”

“You’re worse than the forest,” Michael accuses playfully, yet his date’s dark eyes gleam as if he’s hit the mark.

The man simply smiles slyly and brings his face close to Michael’s, never letting go of him.

“Come here,” he whispers.

He presses his lips against Michael’s and begins to move them slowly. Michael lets out a low moan at the temperature; his date’s lips feel peculiarly hot, not warm, but hot—in an unnatural way, especially considering they’ve been exposed to the cold air for so long. His mind tries to process this thermal anomaly, but the demanding nature of the kiss sweeps away his thoughts.

A searing heat spreads through his mouth, melting away the tension in his body; his hands, previously rigid, move timidly upward, long fingers tracing the texture of his date’s jacket before tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, seeking something tangible to cling to, a distraction from the cloud of panic that had been gathering in his mind since they arrived.

His date lets out a low growl that vibrates directly against Michael’s mouth, sending a shiver through him; it isn’t an entirely human sound—it reminds him of David Kessler’s growls in An American Werewolf in London, stirring a fresh wave of unease. Before he can pull away, one of the man’s firm hands shifts to his dark curls and squeezes with immense force, the grip feeling heavy against his head.

Michael stifles a gasp of pain and surprise. The kiss turns ravenous, teetering on the edge between desire and subtle aggression; the taste of danger floods his senses, mingling with the stifling heat that seems to radiate directly from the other man’s chest.

The separation is languid. A thin thread of saliva connects them before snapping. Michael is breathless, his chest heaving; his wide, startled eyes, shining with the intensity of the moment, search for his date’s face in the darkness. His lips are swollen and his head is spinning.

“Y-you…” Michael rasps, his fingers still loosely tangled in the other’s neck. “You kiss really roughly… it hurt a bit.”

The man licks his lips with feline slowness, savoring the trace Michael had left on them. His pupils appear strangely dilated in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks any real remorse. His hand slides down from Michael’s curls to his neck, where the carotid pulse is hammering frantically against the skin. A shiver runs down Michael’s spine; his date’s fingers aren’t just warm, they burn with an almost feverish heat. “You’re racing so fast, Michael… I’m starting to think you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” Michael says abruptly, though his voice cracks. He starts to pull his hands away from the man’s neck. “It’s just… you’re acting really strange. You have a fever.”

His date’s smile widens, an expression that was once seductive now twisting into something predatory.

“A fever?” he repeats, the word sounding like a taunt. “It’s not a fever, angel. It’s hunger.”

Michael’s eyes widen in horror, and a scream tears through the air.

The man stuffs a handful of buttery popcorn into his mouth and chews. What a bore; there are suspense movies scarier than this. He glances at Michael, the boy is utterly engrossed, eating his own snack with enthusiasm. He knows Michael loves horror movies, but this one doesn’t have a shred of it.

“Are you actually enjoying this?” he whispers into his ear. “Cujo is in the other room, we should’ve picked that one, it’s a re-release.”

Michael stops chewing for a moment and looks at him with a hint of annoyance. “Stop being such a killjoy. You just don’t have an eye for horror like I do.”

He stifles a laugh, stretching his long legs out into the narrow space between the seats. “Oh, please, Michael, that monster looks so fake; it looks like plastic. Besides, nobody runs out of gas so conveniently.”

“Stop complaining,” Michael scolds in an indignant whisper. He settles more comfortably into his seat and leans closer to his date’s shoulder. “Anyway, admit it, you got scared during the forest scene.”

“The only thing that scared me was the price of the popcorn,” he replies mischievously. “But if you like suspense so much… I can give you a better demonstration once we leave.”

Michael arches a slender eyebrow, his hand pausing halfway into the bucket. “Oh, really? You’re going to scare me in the parking lot?”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, moving close enough for his breath to brush against the other’s cheek. “I could bite your neck like the guy in the screen, only your ending would be a little different…”

A pink flush tints Michael’s cheeks, he shifts slightly away and gives the other man a playful shove on the shoulder.

“You’re terrible,” he whispers with a soft chuckle, turning his gaze back to the screen just as the music swells. He slides his free hand along the armrest until his long fingers find his date’s, shyly interlacing them. “Hush now, the best part is coming up.”

The man smirks, tightening his grip on their joined hands. Once again, the theater fills with piercing screams.

The door slammed behind you as you dropped your bag on the floor, scrubbing your hands over your face and through your hair with a sigh.

Today had not been a good day.

You were a model and you've been in the model industry for a long time. By this point you're used to a lot of the bullshit that can come along with it but no matter what, bad days are unavoidable.

Today you had ended up with one of those photographers who had such high expectations no one could meet them. The kind who berated and insulted you if you couldn't meet their demands. Who made you feel like you couldn't do anything right.

The first few hours you had ignored it. It wasn't your first time dealing with a photographer like this.

But the shoot had been long especially because the photographer wasn't happy with anything, meaning you basically had to redo every shot.

So eventually it caught up to you, getting in your head.

The shoot ended up going two hours over when it was supposed to end, meaning you were rushed to your next appointments.

The day had ended in a whirlwind and you just felt so dejected and exhausted.

You wished you could just forget the day.

Toeing off your shoes, you went to the bedroom you shared with your husband, Michael. The house was quiet, the lighting low as it was later in the night. He wasn't in there but you quickly changed your clothes, eager to get out of the uncomfortable clothes you were wearing.

Quietly walking through the house, you headed to the studio, know that was likely where he was.

The door was closed so you opened it quietly in case he was recording.

You found him sitting at the desk. He was wearing a black shirt and some comfortable pants, his long black hair in a loose, low ponytail. There were papers scattered around and the soft sound of a pen scratching as he wrote something down. His wedding band glinting in the low light and your heart felt warm seeing it.

You smiled when you saw he was wearing his glasses. It was something he was embarrassed about, that he had to use glasses now but you found them adorable... and maybe a little sexy too.

He glanced up at the sound of the door and smiled when he saw you. "Welcome home baby." He said.

You smiled back, though it was smaller and more tired than usual as you closed the door behind you, walking over to sit in the chair besides him.

He frowned slightly, taking your hand in his. "Rough day?" He asked.

You sighed. "Yeah something like that."

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, setting his pen down and putting his whole attention to you.

You shrugged. "Just one of those photographers who has such high demands that nothing you do is right."

He made a disgruntled face, kissing your hand. "I'm sorry baby. That's nothing on you, those photographers are just jealous that you're so amazing."

You smile softly, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, yeah." You sighed. "Most of the time I don't care but the shoot was so long today that it did start to get to me and now I just wanna forget the whole day... I just feel like I can't do anything right today."

Your eyes prickled slightly with tears as your frustration with the day welled up.

Michael frowned even more, pulling you closer and running a hand through your hair. "None of that darling. I know you were doing everything perfectly. Photographers like that will never be pleased no matter what you do." He kissed your forehead. "You're still so amazing and wonderful and so good at what you do."

You smiled softly, wiping at your eyes. "Thank you."

He hugged you, kissing your forehead again.

However you still were struggling to get past the frustration and feeling like you couldn't do anything right and you knew Michael could tell because he was still studying you.

He asked a bit hesitantly. "Maybe you might wanna be good for me? Help you get out of your head?"

It was purely a suggestion. You knew Michael wouldn't be upset if you said no but that he felt it might help you get out of your head.

And he was right because that sounded absolutely perfect now. To sink down into the warm fuzziness of subspace. To not have to worry about a single thing except for pleasing Michael.

"Yes." You said almost desperately.

He smiled. "Good." But then he looked down at the stack of papers in front of him and sighed a bit, scratching his eyebrow. His eyes glanced around the room for a moment, thinking.

"I do have to finish this work." He sighed and you deflated a little but he was quick to reassure you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head sweet boy. I was thinking you could keep me warm while I finish up." He smirked at you.

Instantly understanding what he meant you nodded your head eagerly.

He raised his eyebrow. "I need words please." His voice went into that soft but firm tone he used when domming and you already felt your brain melt a little at it.

"Yes sir. Please sir." You replied.

He smiled. "So polite." He kissed your forehead then looked at the couch that was across the room.

"I want you to grab one of those pillows. Bring it over here and use it to cushion your knees so you can kneel by my feet."

"Yes sir." You quickly went over and grabbed one of the pillows on the couch then came back, setting it down by his feet and then kneeling.

There were times when you wouldn't be as obedient, bratting slightly, seeing how far you could push because while Michael was a very gentle dom he was still firm and sometimes liked putting you in your place.

However tonight all you wanted was to be good. To please him. To not have to worry about a single thing but making your dom happy.

"Good boy." He praised. "Now I'd like for you to unbutton my pants and take my cock out."

You did as he asked, unbuttoning his pants and slightly pulling them down so you could pull out his cock.

You looked up at him, awaiting further instruction and he smiled, running a hand through your hair.

"Good job waiting for my instructions. Now I want you to put my cock in your mouth and keep me warm while I work. I want you to drift sweet boy, just let your mind rest. You don't need to worry about anything, I have everything under control." His voice was low, soothing and firm. You felt the warm fuzziness of subspace creeping over you.

"Yes sir." You said softly before taking his cock in your mouth, finding a comfortable position.

You heard his breath catch in his throat a little, unable to remain completely unaffected but he still stayed calm, waiting until you fully settled.

"Good. Now just drift sweetheart." He said, still running a hand through your hair and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being so close to him and the heavy weight of him in your mouth.

You let the warm fuzziness of subspace fully envelope you. You barely paid any mind to what was going on. The room was quiet besides the sound of Michael writing and papers rustling.

Every now and then Michael would run his hands through your hair, whispering words of praise.

All the stress from the day melted away.

Some of the exhaustion from the day creeped up on you so soon you were half dozing, half floating in subspace.

You don't even know how much time passed before you heard a soft chuckle.

"Did you fall asleep sweet boy?" Michael asked, his voice fond.

You opened your eyes, blinking slightly as you adjusted to the light again and pulled away a bit, his cock falling out of your mouth.

He smiled softly. "Oh you're gone." He said, stroking your cheek.

You nuzzled against his hand, not saying anything as words were a little hard when you were so deep in subspace.

"Maybe we should go to bed hmm?" He asked but you shook your head.

He raised an eyebrow. "No? But you seem so exhausted."

"Wanna make sir feel good." You said as he was still hard. "Wanna please sir."

He smiled. "You've already pleased me. You've been perfect tonight. So considerate." He stroked your jaw. "Your jaw doesn't hurt does it?" He asked.

You shook your head. It was a little sore from being in the same position for a while but it didn't hurt.

"Good. Well if my sweet boy wants to make me feel good then he's allowed to."

You smiled, taking Michael's cock back in your mouth.

By this point you two have been married for years so you know every little thing that makes him tick and how to get him to come quickly so you use that knowledge to your advantage.

It isn't long before he's breathing heavier and letting out little moans, whimpering occasionally.

He was more affected than he let on because soon he was coming, letting out a loud moan.

You quickly swallow, not pulling away until he's fully come down, his cheeks flushed and breathing uneven.

You pull back and he pulls you into a kiss.

"You're so perfect." He says and you smile into the kiss.

You two kiss for a bit, soft and loving.

He finally pulls back. "I think my sweet boy deserves a reward for how good he's been tonight. Doing everything I've asked, making me feel good." He praises.

That's when you realize you're hard. You knew you were turned on but it was more a simmering heat, just enjoying being close to your husband and letting him help you forget how bad your day had been.

He grabs a tissue, cleaning himself up before tucking himself back into his pants and then gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

You stand up, wincing slightly after kneeling for so long. You stretch your legs slightly before sitting on his lap.

He smiles, kissing your cheek before helping you tug down your pants so they rest on your legs. He opens one of his drawers, grabbing a bottle of lube.

He puts some on his fingers, warming it up between his hands before his hand wraps around your hard length.

You gasp slightly, letting out a soft moan.

He starts pressing kisses to your neck as he strokes you, finding the sensitive parts of your neck.

You moan, melting into him and you slightly rock into his hand.

It isn't long before he speeds up his hand, nipping at your neck and you let out a loud moan, holding onto him.

Soon you're falling apart, letting out moans and whimpers as you come onto his hand.

"So good." He praises you as he strokes you through your orgasm, pulling his hand away when you start to whine from overstimualtion. He grabs another tissue, cleaning his hand.

You bury your face in his shoulder, panting slightly.

"You were such a good boy tonight. My sweet boy." He praises you, stroking your arm.

"Thank you sir." You cuddle into him a bit.

He smiles, grabbing the bottle of water he had resting besides him and having you drink from it.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks.

You nodded. "Thank you. I really just needed to get out of my head."

"Of course baby. I'm always happy to take care of you and you make it so easy." He kisses you.