the dirt above, the stars below.

Which brought you to Spencer. 

The two of you had a fairly secure arrangement of being coworkers with benefits, and that relationship slowly developed to friends with benefits. 

Spencer had managed to plant a seed in your head when he first brought up the applications of operant conditioning in human sexual arousal during one of his unsolicited lectures over coffee on one of your breaks at work. 

He’d rambled about target behaviors, reinforcement, and how clicker training could theoretically work on humans just as easily as dogs. 

“Are you asking me to clicker train you, Reid?” you teased, bringing your cup down to the table with a quiet clink while watching his eyes dart nervously to your mouth. 

“What— no, I was just.. talking” he stammered, his cheeks turning an angry, flustered red. He fumbled with his paper cup, shifting in his chair like he’d just been caught doing something wrong, “I was just explaining how the brain links habits to physical reactions. It’s just an interesting concept. I wasn’t saying you should— I mean, unless you think— no, forget it.” 

He took a hurried sip of his coffee to shut himself up, burning his tongue in his haste to escape the conversation.  

“No, no, I’m not judging at all,” you murmured, setting your palm beneath your chin, “it’s completely chill if clicker training is a fantasy of yours—” 

“It’s not.” he protested, his voice cracking slightly, “And this conversation is completely inappropriate in the workplace,” 

“We’re just talking about human psychology,” you shrugged, biting back a small smile at the flush creeping up his neck, “nothing inappropriate about pure scientific curiosity, Spencer. Unless, of course, you brought it up for a completely non-academic reason.” 

His mouth opened then closed again. 

You gave him a teasing smile before pushing yourself to your feet, collecting your empty cup from the table, heading toward the break room. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation. 

It was two days later when you found yourself standing in the pet aisle of a local supply store after work. The neon lighting hummed overhead as you stared at a display of plastic training tools—rows of cheap, brightly colored devices.

You reached out and picked up a bubblegum one. It fit comfortably in the palm of your hand. 

You pressed the metal tongue with your thumb. 

Click. 

The sharp, metallic snap echoed loudly in the quiet aisle. It was clean, sharp, and utterly distinct. 

A faint smirk tugged at your lips as you tossed the item in your basket, excitement knotting low in your stomach. 

Just as you paid and walked out to your car, your phone started buzzing in your hand. Spencer’s name lit up on the screen, and you immediately picked up. “Hi,” you greeted softly.

“Hey! Uh, I just wanted to double check if we were still on for tonight? Unless you’re tired, or— or if something came up, of course. I know it’s getting late, so I completely understand if you’d rather just call it a night—” 

“Spencer,” you cut in gently, the smile obvious in your tone as you unlocked your car, “plans are still on. I’m heading home right now.” 

There was a brief pause on the line, followed by the sound of him exhaling, “Oh. Okay, great. I’ll.. I’ll head over to your place now, then.” 

“Perfect. Oh, by the way— remember that whole conditioning thing you were talking about on wednesday?” 

“...yeah? What about it?” 

“I bought a clicker,” you stated plainly, watching your rear-view mirror as you backed out of the parking space. 

“You what?” he asked, his voice suddenly much lower, laced with disbelief and quiet hesitation, “you’re actually doing this?” 

“Only if you want to test the hypothesis.” 

He cleared his throat, the sound thick and strained, “Okay,” he quietly mumbled out the only word his brain could come up with. 

That brief, quiet agreement was as close to an eager confession as you were going to get out of him. 

He wanted so intensely, harbored these deep cravings that made him look like he was going to burst at the seams whenever they came near the surface. Yet actually vocalizing those needs felt like stripping himself completely raw. 

“I’ll.. I’ll see you at your place,” he murmured, the words tumbling out. 

“See ya,” you let your smile bleed into your voice before hanging up. 

You knew Spencer’s tendencies all too well. It was a pattern you’d come to learn by heart. He was extremely shy about what he wanted, utterly terrified of the vulnerability that came with naked honesty. 

He’d usually just sit there, squirming and trembling under the pressure of everything he couldn’t bring himself to say. 

——

That first night had started exactly like that—with Spencer standing awkward and rigid in your living room, staring at the pink plastic device in your hand as you held it with a wide grin on your face. 

Click.

“This is ridiculous,” he  muttered, shaking his head as his eyes avoided looking at the clicker in your hand.

You raised an eyebrow, “You were the one to give me the idea. But, if you don’t wanna do this—” 

“—Okay,” he sighed, “but if we’re actually going to do this, we should establish some parameters first.” 

Your smile deepened as you stepped closer to Spencer, eyes searching his, “Of course we should,” 

“Why are you smiling like that?” his gaze followed your movement before reluctantly settling on your face. 

“Because you’re adorable when you get all serious,” you tipped your chin up to him, “tell me what your boundaries are.” 

“Well..” he hesitated, “the usual. And I think my only condition is that we don’t use it outside of this.” 

“Deal. But could you explain how I’m going to train you?”

You didn’t go into this completely unprepared. You’d done very thorough research the night before, but you couldn’t resist letting Spencer ramble about it himself. 

Spencer straightened his posture, tucking his hair behind his ears, “Well, clicker training is a positive reinforcement training approach based on operant conditioning. Operant conditioning posits that consequences can be applied to behaviors to strengthen desirable ones and remove undesirable ones,” he took a deep breath, his words coming out in a rush, “These consequences can be reinforcement—encouragement—or punishment—discouragement. They’re further broken down into positive and negative as seen from the trainee’s perspective.”

You nodded along, though your attention was beginning to drift from his words. Without quite realizing it, you found yourself leaning closer, your body seeking his as your breath mingled in the small space between you.  

“It’s pretty simple, ‘good’ behavior is rewarded with the trainer’s affirmation and a few clicks.” 

“Got it,” you murmured, licking your lips, “So basically, you do something I like, and I click and reward you.”

His mouth twitched at your words, already visualizing every filthy application of the theory he was preaching—how much power he was handing to you so eagerly. 

“Technically, yes. It’s very fascinating. I can go into more detail, but I think you..” he parted his lips, his mouth hanging open as your gaze completely paralyzed him, “I think that’s all we need to know for now..” his voice grew quieter the closer you leaned, fading into a hushed exhale right against your mouth. 

The click was still just a click, and neither of you expected a single night to be enough to create a lasting association, but Spencer definitely enjoyed it. 

He was still shy about admitting that, but the lingering flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes kept drifting to the clicker in your hand were enough to leave you curious about just how far you could take it. 

----

Over the next month, that bubblegum clicker became the centerpiece of your nights together. You experimented with pacing, rewards, and target behaviors, paying close attention to how Spencer’s body learned to react instinctively to your clicks. 

It was nearly impossible for him not to become conditioned to the sound, especially when those clicks were always followed by some form of affection. 

The click became a promise he patiently anticipated with every session. 

Eventually, you stopped giving him that affection so freely, and your touch became something to be earned. 

Care and attention were now inseparable from the device; without the click, there was no reward. 

He slowly started to hate the excitement and strange pride he felt whenever he heard that familiar click. He never meant to become so obedient, but he’d grown to unthinkingly follow commands now, chasing the reward he so desperately craved—your validation. 

——

The difference between wanting your approval and needing it had become difficult to distinguish. The line between the two was already thin, but now it was completely blurred.

You sat back against your leather couch, knees spread wide, watching Spencer kneeling on the floor between your thighs. 

His long, bare frame looked awkward and compressed folded into the gap at your feet, his spine curved sharply as he tried to stay close. 

His thighs were locked together to brace his balance, the glistening bead pooling at his tip, painting a small clear spot on his skin. 

He stared up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes that burnt into your skin as though he were looking at an angel who had somehow descended within his reach. 

His hands were planted on your calves, slightly massaging them and kneading the muscle to keep his own hands from shaking. 

You rested your elbow on the armrest, the small bright clicker held loosely in your hand as you twirled it lazily between your fingers. 

Spencer’s eyes darted between your bare heat and the clicker, unable to choose between staring at the prize between your legs or the pink plastic in your hand. 

“Go on, Spence,” you encouraged without touching him. 

He swallowed hard, leaning forward to pepper feather-light, tentative kisses along your inner thighs, sucking on the delicate skin as your hand threaded through his messy, slightly greasy hair, giving him just enough pressure to reassure him that he was on the right track. 

He worked his way higher, his breath hot against your sensitive skin as his hands clung on your thighs.

When he finally reached your dripping pussy, his lips parted and sealed over the hypersensitive bundle of nerves at the top, sucking firmly on the sweet spot with instant dedication that made your back arch off the couch. 

Spencer’s eyes flicked to your hand, waiting for that unmistakable sound to tell him that he’s starting off well. But, your fingers stayed perfectly still. 

Two of his fingers spread your folds wide before he dragged his tongue down in one long, slick stroke—

Click click. 

Spencer flinched at the sharp snap near his ear, his breath catching against your wetness. 

“Good boy,” you praised, gently tugging on his hair, “just like that, Spencer.” 

To him, the click marked the exact second he succeeded. And the gasp that escaped your lips was all the validation his brain was itching for. He immediately pushed his face deeper against your pussy, his tongue plunging into your tight entrance with eager hunger that made your toes curl. 

His hands gripped your thighs, fingers splaying against your overheating skin as he urged them further apart, his focus purely primal, like a hound lock-jawed on a bone, completely consumed by the need to please you. 

Spencer tried so hard to stay quiet and controlled, fighting against the desperate sounds clawing their way up his throat. 

But the moment he let out an involuntary whine into your heat, you pressed your thumb down. 

Click click. 

“Let me hear you, Spencer,” your hips twitched against his flush, wet face, “don’t hide those pretty noises,” 

The instant feedback made him melt against you. 

To earn the next click, he stopped suppressing his noises, letting out needy, trembling moans directly against your core. 

Every time he hit the exact speed you wanted or let out a low, needy hum into your heat, you gave him two clicks. 

Click click.

“God, so good for me,” you lolled your head back, feeling his nose brush against your swollen clit as he took a ragged breath. 

Spencer was lapping at every drop of you as if he were trying to swallow you whole, his mouth slick, jaw aching, entirely intoxicated by the sweet taste of you. 

“So perfect— fuck— you’re doing so good, baby,” you moaned. 

His tongue flattened against your center to smear your juices around, burying his face so flush that every breath he took sounded like a drowned man coming up for air. 

You tilted your head to take a better look at his bare body, admiring the fine layer of sweat coating his ribs and how his muscles strained with the effort of holding himself steady, your gaze finally landing on his erection. 

His hard length was leaking against his stomach, twitching painfully, completely unsheathed and starving for touch. 

“Look at your poor dick, Spence,” you purred, “So hard, leaking all over yourself, and you haven’t even touched it yet.” 

He let out a muffled whimper, curling his tongue inside of you, making your hips buck instinctively at the overwhelming stretch. 

He pumped his tongue in and out of you, nuzzling his whole face deeper, his chin applying more pressure just under your opening that pulsed around him, greedy and drenched.  

Click click. 

His lips dragged out every flutter of your inner walls, sucking at your tender flesh. 

“That’s it,” you gasped, fingers digging hard into his scalp, “That’s it--don’t stop,”

“I am,” he whimpered, the sound muffled by the wet friction of him devouring you, “I’m trying— god, you taste so..” he pulled back to look at his work before diving back in, “..so good,” 

Your lips twitched into a smile at his breathless words, giving him two clicks for his verbal effort. 

Click click. 

You loved it when Spencer got talkative during sex, even if it didn’t happen very often. It was obvious that it took a lot of effort for him to string words together to compliment you, so hearing his quiet praises felt extra special. 

“I really wanna make you finish,” his eyes fluttered as he stared up at you, his head still moving as he worked his tongue endlessly against your sweet spot, “please...” 

You hooked your knees over his shoulders, resting your calves against his sweaty back, and tilting your hips upward. 

“You’re doing so good, Spencer,” you gasped, staring down as he pushed your legs closer together over his neck, locking himself in place.

Click click.

“Good boy,” you whimpered, feeling your legs grow numb around his head.  

Spencer doubled his efforts, his tired tongue swirling, pressing, and flicking over your clit with a relentless rhythm that made your thighs press harder around his head.

The pressure inside you built at a terrifying speed, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face, chasing the edge. 

Click.

He whined into your wet skin, evidently excited at the signal that he was right on target, eager to finally push you over the edge and feel you unravel against his face. 

Click click. 

“Spencer— right there, baby,” your nails bit into his damp scalp as the coiling heat in your stomach turned into a tight, unbearable ache. 

The orgasm hit you like a violent wave. It overtook you completely, every muscle in your lower half seizing as pleasure flooded through you. 

A suppressed, broken cry escaped your throat as your walls clamped down around nothing before Spencer quickly brought his thumb to your hungry core, pushing it in and out of you in sync with your pulsing walls. 

Everything turned extremely messy as Spencer’s mouth became sloppier, trying to drink in every drop of your release. 

His finger found its way to your g-spot while his lips sealed tightly around your clit, sucking the soul right out of your body, emptying you of every bit of tension. 

Spencer kept his face pressed against your pussy even after you rode out the last of your climax, completely dazed drunk on your taste, loving exactly where he was locked. 

When you finally untangled your legs from his neck and let them fall weakly on either side of his head, his hands slid down to wrap around your ankles, letting out a small, almost inaudible whimper. 

He dragged his face up just enough to rest his wet chin on your stomach, pressing a soft kiss to your belly as his breath came in ragged, shallow puffs against your skin. 

“How did I do?” His head lazily tilted, going weak on your soft flesh as he looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, silently waiting for his final reward. 

You cupped his drenched, glistening cheeks, leaning down to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his mouth, “You did incredible, Spencer,” you whispered softly, feeling him shiver under your hands. 

“You took such good care of me. It was perfect,” your teeth tugged on his bottom lip as you pulled away with a fond smile, “Now get on all fours on the bed. Let me give you your reward.” 

Spencer pushed himself off the floor with unsteady arms, his legs heavy and trembling. 

The dim orange light reflected off his glistening, rosy skin, casting an unreal glow over him, making him look entirely edible. 

Seeing him stiffly walk away into your bedroom, his head held low as he awkwardly stared at his erection stirred primal hunger claw at your gut—igniting the urge to crawl up behind him and show him exactly what his assets were good for.

——

His long frame looked taut and ready as he propped himself on all fours, his bones sharp and jittery, and his dark hair messy as he buried his head briefly into the pillow until you stepped behind him. 

All you could do was admire him, your hand tracing the small of his back, feeling his tailbone tilting up toward you, inviting the contact.  

Click click. 

“What do you want your reward to be, Spencer?” 

“Whatever you wanna give me,” he dropped his head, his words sounding more like an absolute plea—total surrender and a ruined beg to be handled.  

“Head up,” 

He immediately complied, picking his head back up, his neck muscles visibly straining. 

Click click. 

You rubbed his bare cheek, soothing the area you were so thrilled to ruin, “Do you want me to turn this pretty ass all pink and sore?” 

“Mhm,” he quietly hummed in response, giving in to every word you said. 

“No, Spencey, I wanna hear your words,” you shook your head, withdrawing your warm hand, making him whimper in response. 

“I do,” he nodded, staring at the headboard, “I want you to spank me— do anything you wanna do to me,” 

Spencer knew exactly what you liked to hear. 

It was a fascinating role reversal. On the surface, you were in charge. Spencer’s pleasure was in the palm of your hand. Every move was completely up to you, but his fingers were entirely woven into every crevice of your brain, calibrated to make touching him completely irresistible. 

He knew your responses just as thoroughly as you knew and conditioned his. 

He knew which tone of voice made your grip tighten, which subtle shifts in his posture made you reward him earlier than you’d planned. 

Although his tactics didn’t always work, it was nice seeing him try to work you. 

Your fingers lightly brushed against his aching balls, giving them a firm squeeze to pull a high-pitched squeal from Spencer’s lips. 

His pretty noises reignited the heat pooling between your thighs. 

You brought your hand down, the heavy, solid thud of flesh on flesh echoing loudly.

Spencer gasped, his hips jerking forward with a sharp intake of breath as a deep, radiating heat instantly fired across his pale skin, sending a full-bodied shiver straight down his spine.

Click click.

“Good boy,” you praised, your voice dropping an octave as you traced your palm soothingly over the newly warmed mark, feeling him melt into the friction. “You take it so well for me, don’t you?”

You pressed your palm firmly against his rear, hoping that the friction would cool down the fire in your hand. 

The lingering throb was already addicting. 

Your hand swept down with heavier, more deliberate force, planting a second strike right beside the first.

“Mmph—”  He buried his face deeper into the pillow, his knees trembling violently against the sheets as his neglected erection throbbed helplessly.

“Look at how red you get so easily… and I’ve only spanked you twice” you cooed, your pointer finger tracing the outline of the angry red handprint on his ass, “so pretty,” you whispered, giving him two clicks just for being so beautiful and patient. 

Click click. 

A third open-handed spank bloomed hot across his right cheek, making him gasp into the pillow. Before the sting could fade, your hand snuck between his thighs and wrapped around his thick, dripping length, pumping him a few times.  

“Ah—!” his hips bucked, seeking friction from your hand that quickly unwrapped itself off his dick. 

Click click. 

Another spank hit his left cheek, followed immediately by more tight strokes that made his eyes roll back into his head. 

“O— oh my god!” his entire body twitched. 

The sensory overload completely wiped out his ability to think. He was trembling, completely at the mercy of the sound, the sting, and your hand. 

Spencer’s cock was painfully hard, heavy and twitching between his trembling thighs. 

He was on the edge of release—so hypersensitive that a single firm squeeze from you would ruin him instantly, sending him over the brink before you even gave him permission. 

Every time the clicker snapped, his body reacted automatically—his pulse spiking, his throat letting out fractured whimpers, and his hips thrusting blindly into your palm. 

You leaned down to the curve of his hip, pressing a soft firm kiss to his reddened cheek before dragging the wet trail of your parted lips along the burning skin to calm the sting down. 

“You’re taking it so well,” you whispered, your warm breath fanning over the tender flesh, “very good for me, Spencer.” 

Your hand slid down his inner thigh, fingers lightly brushing the glistening tip of his cock without wrapping around it. 

“Please,” he begged, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. 

“So greedy,” you purred, resting the cool pink plastic against the nape of his neck, “you’re already so close to coming, and I’m not even close to being done with you.”

“But I’ve been so good,” it sounded like he was about to cry. 

“I know..” you rubbed the inside of his thighs, “but you need to learn some patience,”

“I am patient..” he whimpered, weakly shaking his head, “but I really, really need to cum,” 

“I know, baby..” you cooed, your voice dropping to a low, soothing hum as your thumb gently stroked the sensitive skin of his hip. “I know how hard this is for you. But look at how beautiful you are like this.” 

“You’ve been so perfect for me tonight. Don’t ruin it by rushing now, okay?” You patted his hip. 

“Okay,” he rasped, forcing steady breaths into his lungs. 

You delivered a sudden, firm spank to his left cheek, aiming for a pale spot that was prettily waiting for its own searing bloom of color. 

“Mmm— fuck—!” Spencer’s hips stayed put, his rear absorbing the impact with only a shudder, fighting his own body to remain still for you. 

Click click. 

“There’s my patient boy,” you murmured, letting your palm wrap around the base of his swollen shaft. 

You slowly pumped his dick, your fingers slick with his pre-cum as you gave his tip extra care. 

His hips twitched wildly into your grip, his toes curling as you picked up the pace, finally granting him the mercy of pure bliss. 

But that didn’t last for long as you quickly eased off when he got too close to the edge, leaving him under nothing but the pressure of the air. 

“No, no, no— please, let me come—” he choked out, his head thrashing blindly against your pillow. 

You padded to the head of the bed, catching his chin, tilting his head up until his unfocused, tear-shiny eyes met yours. 

“Breathe, Spence,” you ordered softly as he frantically panted, “Look at me. Did I say you could move?”

His throat worked as he tried to quiet his ragged chest, “N— no…” 

“Then keep your hips still,” you raised your brows, tapping the cool casing of the clicker against his cheekbone, “you won’t get another touch until you’re completely under control.” 

“I promise I won’t move,” he whispered, his pleading gaze locked into yours. 

“Good.” 

You silently repositioned yourself by his feet, contemplating just how much longer you were going to make him wait. 

Every time your hand brushed his ass lightly, he would arch his spine and whimper in encouragement for you to shift your attention back to his dick. 

The raw distress in his whimpers made a pang of sympathy tug at your chest. The sight of his flushed skin was almost too pitiful to handle. 

So you jerked him off again. 

You wanted to bring him so close to coming before deciding if he was truly deserving of his release.  

“God, yes— pleasepleaseplease— I can’t do this anymore!” he sobbed, his entire frame impressively frozen, locked tight as you fucked him with a fast, grueling pace.  

Click click.

The clicks were quickly answered with a loud whine. It was cute. Completely pathetic and feral, but cute nonetheless. 

“Hold it, Spencer, I know you can,” your thumb involuntarily abused the metal tongue of the clicker, going just as fast as his racing pulse.  

He squirmed under your touch, biting down on his bottom lip, almost drawing blood to stop himself from falling apart already. 

Lasting an additional four minutes was enough to impress you and give him permission to take what he needed.

“Come for me, Spence,” you finally gave him the green light to let go into your palm. 

Click click. 

And he spilled his load right on cue, his back arching to rub himself against your forearm. 

His hot cum coated your hand instantly, heavy and slick, running between your fingers and dripping onto your sheets. 

“There you go…” you squeezed his dick, swirling your thumb on the soaking, pink crown, “..let it all out, baby. You did so well,” 

Your mouth went straight to his trembling thighs, kissing them until he fell limp onto his stomach. 

Spencer was left to be a ruined whimpering mess that weakly clung onto the sheets. 

You licked your hand clean of his juices, eagerly tasting him as you splayed your fingers to catch the remaining moisture between them before crawling up beside him. 

He rolled his head toward you, his eyes heavy-lidded and glassy. 

His hair was stuck to his damp forehead, and when you reached out to brush it aside, he leaned his face into your touch. 

“Look at you,” you smiled, holding back a chuckle as you traced his cheekbone, “completely wrecked.” 

“M’not…” he pouted. 

His arms wrapped loosely around your waist when you finally made him melt against you after such intensity. 

You quickly felt his thumb trace soft circles on the small of your back. 

“You know,” he mumbled into your collarbone, his voice a sleepy hum, “the reinforcement schedule was.. extremely irregular near the end.” 

“Oh, really?” you grinned, “are you reviewing my performance, Doctor?” 

“I’m just pointing out that inconsistent reinforcement tends to produce higher response rates. Which means..” 

A slow, faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips—a rare, quiet glimpse of the sharp mind beneath all that bashful obedience, “you’ve made it impossible for me to stop.” 

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckled at his sleepy analysis of the little experiment he had willingly subjected himself to.