“Upgrade?”

“Mhmm. I’m special to you, right?”

“Damn, right.”

“And I come first?”

“Always.”

“Well, princesses are still beholden to someone even if they’re spoiled or pampered.” Hoping my gut’s right, I lightly cup my hand beneath his jaw. Even with the light constriction, he stills, eyes locking with mine. “You don’t intend to harm me?”

“Never.”

“Or control me?”

“No. I should’ve never taken you, but what you want goes from this point on.”

“But princess implies that you still have authority over me. I need a name that reminds me every time I hear it that I have the final say.” Untucking myself, I press the heel of my foot to his thigh just to see what he’d do. Like the wise man he is, Angel widens his legs. “I need to know that you fall to your knees for me, and only me, anytime and every time I ask. That everything you do, you for me. I want to know that I own you,” I whisper. “And only one name fits that, hmm?”

“You’re right, Princess isn’t enough. Not for an Empress.” Feeling empowered just from the name alone, I grip a little tighter, wordlessly telling him to stay still as I move closer. 

***

“Open your mouth.” He does, eyes tracking me as I lift my other hand. I trace the edges of his lips. “Clean it.”

His tongue tickles as he laps my pointer and middle fingers, eventually using it to guide me into his mouth. I add another finger, and he takes it without complaint. I can feel drool start to drip down my palm, but I kind of like it. Testing his willingness, I press into his mouth further. He doesn’t gag and, worse, starts to bob until all my knuckles have made it past his lips. Angel's eyes begin to get a little glazed, and I love the way he tries to subtly shiver. 

I hold back the derogatory names that bubble up in my brain, unsure if that’s something he’s into. But if I knew for sure and he was, I’d definitely call him a bitch-boy or a cock craving slut. I bet he would look nice choking on a toy with how he’s beginning to make some noise.

Instead of going with the flow, I decided to be responsible. (We are outside, and I don't know how nosy his neighbors are.) It's such a bummer breaking the spell by tapping his throat. His eyes open, pupils contracting, but they slowly widen as I brush my thumb under his ear affectionately. 

“You did so good, Angel,” I whisper. 

I slowly retract my fingers, tickled as he chases slightly, and quickly let my tongue replace them. 

***