Welcome the fuck home.

Sweet baby girl… I wrote this a month ago, and meant to give it to you the morning you got home from your trip… But I lost my footing… screwed up something awful. So at risk of stirring those feelings again… I wanted to offer it as another apology… And, baby. I won't ever make that mistake again. I promise.

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Baby.

I am so happy that you took the trip. It was an incredible opportunity - and you took it, and I am proud of you for that.

But, baby. I've missed you.

The bear missed you.

And you have no idea how hard it's been.

Behaving.

But now you’re home?

Oh, I know exactly what’s stepping out of that bathroom.

Jet-lagged. Overtired. Wrung out from a week of awe and overstimulation.

Your skin's still damp, hair wrapped up in a cute little terrycloth temple. You're moving slow, thinking you'll slip under the covers for just a minute before letting the exhaustion swallow you whole…

But baby.

It is not time for a nap.

I’m behind you before you even notice. My hands slide around your hips, haul you in. Your towel falls to the floor with a soft thud and a startled “Hey!” that I catch with a kiss to your shoulder, even as I guide you toward the bed.

Bent. Face pressed into the comforter. My hand resting firm on your back… just enough to still you.

Because this girl?

She’s not sleepy.

She needs to be handled.

And love, I’ve been waiting all damn week to do just that.

You open that sassy mouth… “Babe, you’re being ridiculous.”

Like that’s gonna help your case.

And I’ll answer with my fingers already inside you and a low growl in your ear:

“Then shut me up.”

And you won’t.
Because you can’t.
Because you’ve been soaked from the moment I grabbed you.

And this isn’t just about getting you off.

This is about grounding you. Resetting you.

About holding you steady until the tension leaves your body like steam. Until the brat slips away, and the sweetness takes her place. Until your voice cracks asking me not to stop.

And so now that I've finally got you where I want you…

I consume.

You’ll be stretched out, limp on the bed… Hair a mess. Cheeks flushed.

And when I get on my knees behind you, and my lips find yours… the world will forget it ever asked anything of you.

You’ll come, eventually. Maybe twice. Maybe three.

And when you finally collapse, body soft, breath slowing, I'll gather you up into my arms like the precious little thing you are.

But just as you’re starting to drift… just as you close your eyes a bit and let out one of those sweet little hums of yours…

You feel me shift.

A change in the air. A new kind of stillness.

The faint click of a bottle cap.

“…Sir…”

Barely a tired whisper, but your lips brush against my neck… no hesitation. Just awareness.

Just yes.

And my hand. Sliding lower. Lower.

You gasp, but you don’t stop me, lips still on my neck.

Because you know what this is.

Not control. Not conquest. But something deeper.

Worship.

Devotion.

I press just enough to be felt as my lips find your ear.

“God, babe. I missed all of you.”

You arch into me, that sound leaving your throat before you even know it’s there.

And I murmur, steady and low:

“Good girls don’t get naps until I’ve had every inch of them.”

You moan.

Of course you do.

And I take my time.

One finger. Gentle. Present. Just enough to remind you. To stoke the anticipation while our mouths find each other again. Lingering long in a kiss as my hand does its gentle work…

Until I flip you over.

You’re panting now. Face down in the pillows. Fingers curled into the sheets. Trying not to push back. Trying not to beg.

But baby, I’m not cruel. Not when you offer yourself to me this sweetly.

So when I finally slide the plug in… just a little one, the one with the tail… or maybe that new one I got you while you were away… the one with those divine, tuggable tails, plural… goddess energy for my sweet goddess…

I lean in and whisper:

“Now. All of you.”

And no, I don’t take you yet. Not right away.

First, I make you feel it.

I lower myself again. My tongue finds you again. And as your body starts to tremble, helpless and high and strung-out on sensation.

You don’t even know what you need anymore, just that you need more.

And when you finally give me that last, desperate cry? My name sounding so sweet from your lips?

That’s when I press into you.

Not rough. Not rushed.

Just… completely.

Filling you. Entirely.

One hand firm on your hip. The other tugging lightly on one of those tails, just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

And when I feel you start to unravel again, your whole body clenching down around me…

I lean in, just over your shoulder, and growl:

“You take me so damn well, babygirl. My sweet, smart, bratty girl. Fucking perfect.”

You go quiet when you come this time.

Not from modesty.

From shock.

From overload.

And when it’s finally over, and you collapse in full…

Then you get your nap.

Head on my chest. Warm under the covers. Tails still in place.

And I’ll stroke those beautiful locks and whisper to you every single soft word that you deserve.

See?

Handled.

Welcome the fuck home, babygirl.