A "This Relationship of Ours" extra in which Mia wants to try something new in the bedroom, but ends up saying her safeword yellow. happy reading :-) 6k.
**
Harry's voice is a soft murmur in Mia's ear, running a hand over her hair as she tucks her face into his neck. "Bet you hate me right about now, hm?"
"Could never hate you," she mumbles into his shirt. Her fingers tighten around the material, and she forces herself closer. He shifts a bit back on the bed they sits on to let her climb on him properly. "'S just that it hurt a lot."
"That was the point, wasn't it?"
"Yes. But still."
"What's your color?"
"It's green." She sniffles and runs a hand over her face. "Thank you. I'm okay."
His hand rubs her back gently, laying his cheek on top of her head. "Good. I'm glad to hear that."
Mia says she's okay, but she's still trembling and holding onto him tightly. She hardly ever sheds a tear when she's over his knee, which makes him happy that she's strong, but he'll always be ready to be there with tissues on the side table and soothing lotion. She's not crying right now, but she certainly would like more than what Harry's giving her. His soft hands holding her tight doesn't seem to be enough, so after a chaste kiss to her forehead, he slowly pulls away, whispering, "Let's get you in your pajamas, hm?"
She nods, but doesn't make an effort to let him go. He presses more kisses to her head, dragging them down to her cheeks, where she loves being kissed the most. "Alright, alright," she complains, a smile on her face as she pulls away from him, holding his face in her gentle palms. She places a kiss on his mouth and then slowly detaches herself from him. "Can you get them for me?"
He tucks her hair behind her ear. "You want my shirt or yours?"
"Think you know the answer to that." She looks up at him adorably. "I want the one you're wearing."
They both look down at his long sleeved black shirt. "Fine," Harry says, and Mia moves off his lap, eagerly waiting for his shirt to be extended to her. He removes it and hands it off to her. She takes her own shirt off and lets it drop to the floor, happily putting on her dominant's shirt.
"Ah, ah. Pick up your shirt."
Mia looks down at it and picks it up. She begins to walk to her suitcase to tuck the shirt into her suitcase, but Harry's hands quickly latch onto her waist and she stumbles as he brings her back to him. "Can see my hand prints," he says in awe, tracing his finger over her. "It hurt that bad?"
"Yes. But I liked it, sir. Gonna go admire the marks in the mirror."
"'S a punishment. Not supposed to like it."
"I don't not like anything you do to me."
"That's a relief." He kisses her tailbone, right above her blue underwear as a silent apology. "Go brush your teeth."
She checks over her shoulder. "Will you come?"
He sits back up, nodding. "Yes, go on."
"Okay."
He watches her leave, still surprised his actual handprint has translated onto her ass. He barely notices the limp she walks with because he's so endeared by the way she lifts the neck of the shirt up and inhales his scent as if it's her drug. She drops her shirt onto her suitcase and then wobbles over to the bathroom of their hotel room.
Harry stands up after a while, placing his hands in his grey sweatpants pockets. She's already brushing her teeth when he walks in and he just stands behind her, watching her. She glances at him with a quirked eyebrow through the mirror, mouth full of toothpaste. "Yes?" she asks.
He only slithers his hands under her shirt and pulls her closer, enjoying the way her warm body feels against his. He kisses her temple and then continues to watch her brush her teeth. Goosebumps form on her skin, exactly where he's touching her, but she doesn't mind his eyes or hands on her. She spits out her paste when she's finished, swirls some water in her mouth, spits once more, and then places her hands on his.
"Yes?" she asks again, leaning into his chest. He holds her weight against him, kissing her cheek over and over as if he can't get enough. Most days, he's not this clingy, but she'd taken her punishment so well, he's just proud of her. His hand is clearly not the easiest thing to take, but here she is, accepting his kisses like she knows she deserves them, and that's all it takes to make him happy. Happy to have her.
When he pulls away from her cheek, he presses his mouth to her ear instead and murmurs, "Spread your legs."
Her eyes watch as his hand dips into her panties and with a shaky moan, she spreads her legs, still using him to keep her standing upright. "Good girl," he praises, biting down on her earlobe. "You're always so good for me."
"Thank you sir," she whimpers, resting her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. He kisses the apple of her cheek.
He parts her legs a bit more and then runs his middle finger over her clit gently, making sure not to startle her. She's always wet after a spanking, no matter how rough, so it doesn't surprise him when he finds his finger immediately drenched by her. He waits no time pushing a finger inside of her, causing her to squeak and grab onto his wrist. She accepts him nicely, his lengthy finger stretching her out as he begins to speak in a low voice in her ear, stringing her along. He's learned that his words have a direct effect on how wet she becomes, especially when she's in such a vulnerable position. "Does that feel good? Can you hear yourself?" He pushes his finger a little deeper with more force and she lets out a strangled moan when she hears herself. "That's all you. I've only got one finger in and listen to the sounds you're making." The combination of her moans and the wetness between her legs is music to his ears. Nothing would disappoint him more than if she kept her sounds to herself. He needs to hear the gasps fall from her pretty lips like fuel.
He picks up his speed. She has to let go of his hand and instead hold his free one, holding it to her chest.
"Never fails to amuse me," he says, "how quick you cum from my fingers."
"Finger," she whispers. "Just one."
"Would you like another?"
He's not going to add another. He just wants to hear her say "no" and be satisfied with knowing that if she doesn't want something, she'll tell him. He's only just fucked her an hour ago and the spanking she'd received was from cumming too early without his permission. She's way too sensitive and sore to be taking more than one finger inside her. "No," she says quietly, struggling through a moan. "One is good. Thank you, sir."
"Squeezing me so good." With his thumb, he grazes over her clit and she groans, picking her head up. "What?" Harry asks innocently with a smirk. "Did that feel good?"
"Yes, sir," she whines, her legs feeling like jelly. "You always feel good..."
"That's because I know your body so well, hm? I know that this..." he swipes his thumb over her clit and keeps doing it, "is what will make you see stars when you cum."
She opens her eyes and gasps as he continues rubbing her clit and fingering her, deep and fast. Rough. "Am I allowed to cum, sir?"
"That's not how we ask."
She jolts when he presses his finger inside of her, against the spot she loves. "Fuck. Sir, can I please cum? Fuck. Please? Can I?"
"Do you think you deserve it?"
They both know she deserves it. He just wants to hear her say it. "I do!" she whimpers, looping her arms behind him, digging her nails into his back because she feels as if she's about to fall. "I-I took my punishment. I think I deserve to cum. Please, sir?"
"Didn't ask me when I was fucking you. Now you want to be nice to me?"
"Sir please! I can't...I can't hold it!"
He kisses her cheek sweetly. "Go ahead."
Relief floods her. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, fuck! Thank you s-so much, sir." Her head falls onto his shoulder again and the burning sensation in her lower stomach begins to take over her entire body. Just a little bit more... "Fuck!" she cries as her orgasm hits her, pressing her nails harshly into his skin. "Thank you! Oh, shit! Sir!" He pulls his finger out of her and focuses on her clit, rubbing it harshly over and over to coax as much of those beautiful sounds as he can.
Once she's finished, she all but collapses into his arms. He kisses her forehead and holds her close, her arms falling away from around his torso. He turns her around and presses his lips to her mouth over and over, kissing away her moans.
"Alright?" he whispers against her lips.
"Yes," she breathes dizzily. "Thank you for that."
"Why don't you go lay down? I'll be there in a moment."
She nods, still hazy. "Okay. I'll wait for you."
He shuts the door behind her and opens up the faucet, reaching for the soap first to wash his hands.
**
Mia cuddles up beside Harry when he arrives, flying into his arms without a second thought. This is where she feels the most safe. Nobody can hurt her here. Not when Harry's with her. His warm skin against her entire body acts as a furnace, keeping her toasty. She pushes her calves between his legs and snuggles closer, rubbing her feet against his.
She stays quiet for a moment, but then reaches for his hand and begins to play with his fingers. It's always surprising to her how different his fingers look without their jewelry.
"Sir? Can I ask you a question?"
Harry hums back a note.
"Do you like inflicting pain?"
Her dominant shifts under her, checking her face apprehensively. "What? What do you mean?"
"I forgot the word but it came up when I was researching a long, long time ago about BDSM relationships. Are you the person who likes to inflict pain?"
"You're asking me if I'm a sadist?"
"Yes."
"I don't think I am." He brushes hair away from her forehead. "Why do you ask this?"
"Was just wondering. When I'm over your lap, I feel like I make sounds of discomfort and you know how to pick out the ones that show that it's really hurting and you give me a break. It's very interesting that you know the difference between my sounds."
"Just doing my job right." He rests his head down, closing his eyes.
She falls quiet and traces his tattoos. A minute she says, "You've never spanked me with anything except your hand."
"You're right. I have not."
"Why?"
"Don't want to hurt you. I'm not a sadist."
"What if I asked you to?"
His eyes open. "What would you like to be spanked with?"
She answers so quickly, it's astonishing. "Your belt."
He chuckles incredulously. "Really? You'd want that?"
"Yes." She kisses his mouth gently. "Would I have to misbehave to get the belt?"
"Of course not. You ask and you shall receive." He stretches his legs. "Not right now though, yeah? I'm tired."
"Tomorrow then."
"We'll see about that."
"Tomorrow. Goodnight sir."
"Goodnight Amelia."
**
Tomorrow morning arrives and Mia sits on the bed, watching Harry rummage through his suitcase. He pulls out a fresh shirt and jeans and then finally, the star of the hour: the belt. He lays it beside his clothes and then pulls out a fresh pair of briefs, laying them neatly on top.
"Wanna shower with me?"
"Dunno how you can shower without breakfast, sir."
He smirks, grabbing his towel. "Go ahead and order food then." He disappears into the bathroom.
When he comes back, she's still sitting on the bed, scratching the nail polish off her nails. He asks what she ordered and she says, "Nothing yet." Without missing another beat, she says, "Can you use the belt on me before you put it on?"
His brows shoot all the way up. "Amelia," he says, swallowing down a laugh. "It's 9 in the morning. It's way too early to be getting whiny with me. I'm not giving you a sore ass right after the spanking you took last night."
She pushes her bottom lip out. "I can take it, sir. You know I'm strong."
"I do know that. But I don't want to. Belts hurt."
"Have you ever spanked a girl with a belt before?"
He purses his lips. "Once."
"Verdict?"
"It hurts. Go get dressed. We'll go out for breakfast. I really want crepes right now."
She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "Sir."
He kisses her forehead and pulls her off the bed. "Go. Before you put your jeans on, show me your ass. And grab the soothing cream."
She huffs. "Could you sound any less sexy?"
"Hurry up. I'm hungry."
**
How is she supposed to get it off her mind? He knows exactly what he's doing! Toying with his belt like that, right in front of her face.
They've just come back from dinner at a fancy restaurant, so it was obviously difficult to drag her high heels up his legs under the table without anyone noticing. She'd been a good girl, even eating the side salad he ordered just to make him happy. He knew what she was plotting, and he was more than happy to ignore her just to frustrate her.
She lets her hair down and runs her fingers through it. Harry's talking about ordering dessert since they didn't find anything they liked at the restaurant. She turns around when she sits on the edge of the bed, bringing her foot to her lap. Her fingers immediately cease when she notices him undoing his belt. Her jaw is tight as she tries to focus on her buckle, but suddenly, her fingers are slippery, and she can't get a good grip on the strap.
Harry walks to her and adjusts his pants as he bends down to his knees. He takes her foot and puts it on his knee, easily undoing the buckle.
"Thanks," Mia mumbles, taking the heel from him. He takes her other foot onto his knee and expertly takes this shoe off too, once more handing it off to her.
Then, he stands up and up against her face, and orders, "Take my belt off."
She grabs onto the buckle part and slowly removes the belt from her dominant's belt loops, making sure not to break eye contact with him. He hasn't asked her to look away yet.
"Trade you?" he says, eyes unmoving. His palm is open and he waits.
Her eyes narrow as she hands off her silver heels, placing his belt beside her on the bed. Right before he turns away, she notices the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk, knocking the wind out of her because she realizes that while she spent all that time plotting, Harry was doing the same. He drops her heels by her suitcase and then returns back to her.
Her fingers are laced together impatiently. The smirk on Harry's face is still there, but a bit more diluted. With a sigh, he sits beside her.
"You love teasing me, don't you?"
She blinks innocently. "How have I teased you today?"
"Don't think you looked into my eyes once. Always looking at my belt." She gasps when he buries his fingers into her hair and pulls her head back with a harsh yank, "Not only are you teasing me, but you're also testing my patience."
"Your patience, sir?" she whimpers, mouthing a swear word.
"You're not considering how much a leather belt hurts. And I've told you it hurts."
She takes a shaky breath when Harry presses his lips against her cheek, sweetly kissing her skin. "I just want to try it."
He releases her hair and cups her jaw, bringing her into him. With a soft growl, he kisses her harshly. It's messy and slightly painful with the teeth, but he's asserted his dominance. As if she'd take it from him.
"If you want the belt, you have to promise me something," he breathes, smacking more kisses onto her mouth. She can't reply so she just desperately nods. "When you need to stop, you will tell me. You will use your colors. You will use your words."
She whimpers against him, unable to come up with a good reply, mind hazy and vision dizzy.
"Tell me," Harry presses, pushing her away.
"I'll tell you. I'll tell you when I need to stop, I promise."
"What will you tell me?"
How many times will we go over this? she wonders. "Yellow means slow down or give me a break. Red is my safeword."
"Why do you sound annoyed?"
"'We've been over this so many times."
"I need you to know how important your colors are."
"I know they're important, sir."
He lets go of her jaw. "Stand up."
She hobbles up onto her feet and faces him with a smile on her face, hands laced in front of her. Harry places his hands on her hips and steadies her, lips pursed. "We're going to start slow, so it's best if you leave your jeans on." He looks away, knowing that she's going to push a pout onto her face and try to plead with them not to do that because she's strong, and if he looks away, she'll feel less inclined to argue with him because that means it's the end of the discussion. He takes the belt sitting beside him and loops it once. He holds it up. "You won't be hit with this part," he points at the buckle, "or this part," his finger runs along the edge of the belt. "Just the flat part." He takes a deep breath and continues, "Your comfort is very important to me, Amelia, so when you want to tap out, let me know. I'm not going to negotiate with you on this. It's great that we're trying new things, and I'm all for it, but as soon as you hear those alarms in your head, you let me know."
"How many will you do?" she asks, eyes on the belt.
"We can start with ten."
"I can take more than ten."
"One more thing." Harry ignores her stubbornness because he knows she's making herself very underwhelmed. "The easiest way for me to do this is if you don't make any sudden movements. If I'm bringing down the belt... hey, listen to me. Amelia." He pulls her chin up so she stops staring at the belt and looks into his eyes instead. "Are you listening?"
"Yes, sir," she insists, taking a step forward.
"If I'm bringing the belt down, I don't want you turning around quickly before you can feel it. If you're going to turn around, you have to let me know. I'm serious about that. I don't want to hurt you."
Mia nods. "Okay got it. No sudden movements. Talk to you. I know my colors and when I hit my limit, I let you know."
"Good," he replies, pleased and somewhat surprised she'd actually listened to him. "Grab those two pillow for me." Harry stands up and moves out of the way for her to shuffle forward and retrieve the pillows from the bed. "Stack them on top of each other."
There are only two so it's easy to stack them. "Lay over them."
"Wait. First, I wanna–" she holds her hands out and places them on his jaw, forcing herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss him quickly. It's a soft, gentle kiss that conveys that Mia trusts Harry, and she smiles when she pulls back, keeping her lips lingering on his. "Thank you."
"Mm," Harry hums against her mouth, kissing her again. "We'll see if you're thanking me after this. Go lay down."
She does, falling onto the pillow dramatically because she's Mia. She fixes her position though, and Harry helps her out by shoving the pillows so they're angled under her hips. Her face is against the mattress, and her ankles crossed, feet flat against the floor.
"I'm ready," she tells him excitedly, wiggling her butt. Harry undoes his cuffs and folds his sleeves up to his elbows. He bends the belt more so it creases properly.
She hears Harry's chuckle before the silence and then the first strike hits her.
The sound makes her wince and she holds onto the pillow beneath her dearly, but the pain doesn't come until after he's hit her. It makes her jolt and she rises to her tiptoes quickly, letting out a soft gasp.
"Talk to me," he orders, voice hard.
"That was good, sir," she manages to say, now realizing the pain. It burns. She opens her eyes and relaxes. "I liked it."
Harry doesn't say anything from then on, but the hand around his belt tightens until there's a mark in the middle of his palm. He's definitely being generous with how hard he's hitting her, aware of her whines and sighs, picking out which ones are of pain. He barely turns his body when he brings the belt across her ass, not using any rough movements. He's being as gentle as he can be in a situation like this.
The low moans she lets out cause his pants to tighten considerably until the throbbing is hard to ignore. The third strike hits her hard and her ankles flex, her noises increasing in volume. From where her head is turned, he can see a vein in her neck, straining. He mutters a swear word and drags a palm down to his dick, giving himself a cautious squeeze. Maybe there's a sadist in him after all...
Her hair rests beautifully across her back, and the sight in front of him is picturesque, but now's not the right time to bring his phone out and snap a picture.
After the fourth strike, he swings the belt back to his side and steps forward, leaning in. A hand is pressed to her back and he begins to softly rub. "How are you doing?"
"Good," Mia rasps, picking her head up. Her cheeks are pink, eyes full of excitement. "Can I take my pants off?"
"Sure."
Harry places his belt on the floor and then sinks to his knees, pulling her jeans down the swell of her ass and then down her thighs. She steps out of them easily, and he fixes them, folds them, and then throws them to her suitcase.
He sucks in his lips. "Nice knickers."
They've got blue and purple hearts on them. "Thanks," she giggles. "Thought it would lighten up the mood a bit."
"So you knew you'd be in this position."
Harry stands back up, this time wrapping the belt in his hand. "Of course I did. Whatever I want, I get." The next strike of his belt comes down harder, and perhaps it's because she feels it more against her bare skin, she lets out a low groan, her head falling. "Shit."
He swings his arm again, twice in succession, harder than before. She whines and jolts, her creamy skin turning a light pink. Her toes are curled, calves straining. With a less harsh hit, he brings it down on her upper thigh, and she gasps, knuckles tight as she holds onto the pillow tightly. Receiving no sound of discomfort, he repeats this twice. Each time she whimpers and her legs tremble, but she doesn't tell him to stop.
After one more strike, her ass is turning red, far more colorful than it was yesterday with his hand. It looks beautiful anyway, and he all but stops himself from reaching out and running a hand over to feel the heat radiating off of her. He can detect her harsh breathing and the way her legs are beginning to burn from the position because her knees have unlocked and now rests against the side of the mattress. It's truly a breathtaking image that he wants to remember forever. "Amelia, stand properly." He steps forward and latches his hands to her hips, dragging them up a bit so her feet rest flat against the floor, knees locked again. In this position, she's distributing her weight properly, but before, she was dragging her body down.
With the brief touch to her skin, he confirms his previous thoughts. She's as hot as a furnace.
Harry stands back in his original spot and audibly swings the belt in the air, the crack! resonating throughout the room.
He intends to do only two more. That will make it an even ten and no matter how annoying she gets, he will not be doing more. He makes sure that the belt is facing the right way, practicing his motion before finally cracking his belt down on her again. He ends up hitting right where her butt and her thigh meet, and immediately he realizes that this one has hurt a lot because she tenses and sharply inhales.
Something's wrong.
Her face pinches and her fingers relax against the comforter, shaky and clearly stressed. Harry keeps his hand tight around his belt, but when he hears her sniffle, he falters, loosening his grip. She shakes her head quickly, shuffling closer to the bed so her knees touch the side of the mattress again. "Yellow," she whispers, turning her head to the side so he can hear her. "Yellow. It's...it's yellow, sir."
Harry drops the belt immediately upon hearing her and quickly steps forward, wrapping his arms around her stomach. A knot forms in his throat as he forcefully pushes her body closer to his. "Okay. I've got you."
"It's yellow," she tearfully insists, taking deep breaths. "Sir?"
"I hear you–"
"I don't want more. It's yellow!" she repeats a little louder this time, hiding her face in her hands. "You're right. It hurts. Don't like it."
Her choppy sentences make his heart swell with sadness, turning her around with his firm hands. Her dark hair is falling over her eyes and cheeks, and her hands hold the strands against her face. If she's crying (and he really can't tell), her face is getting hot and sweaty and it must feel awful. He gently pushes her hair away from her face from under her hands. "I hear you," he answers in again a soothing murmur. "I'm gonna hug you, okay? Can I do that?"
She sniffles and nods, not removing her hands from her face.
"Oh, sweet girl," Harry says in a mellow voice. He holds his hand out and grabs onto her arm, tugging her. He'd be the one moving, but he wants her to gain some movement in her legs. "Come here." His voice is so soft and caring, if Mia were in her right headspace, she'd be ridiculing him for it. Right now, it's the only thing she can hear beside her thundering heart. Her legs are shaky and he needs to grab his wrist as she walks toward him, crashing into him.
Her head falls against his chest heavily, and his free hand buries itself in her hair, lightly scratching at her scalp to calm her down. To his great sadness, her shoulders begin to tremble and his eyes widen, tightening his arms around her. "Hey, it's okay. I'm so happy you told me your color. You did so good, love."
"Didn't," she says, somewhat incredulous, clutching the collar of his shirt. "You were right! You're always right, sir, I'm never right."
"That's not true at all!" Harry softly exclaims, the firm severity in his voice. "This was just an experiment, and you did good, alright? Let's sit down, yeah? I want to see your face. Can you move your legs?"
The small nod he receives is enough for him. Harry leads them over to the bed, pushing the pillows away so there's more room and messily pushes the comforter away too. Right now, she's as flexible as she gets, letting him pull her into his lap, holding her in a way that she's entirely on top of him, making sure she feels him on every part of her body. To his slight relief, she doesn't whine when he fits her on his thighs.
"Can I see your face?" he repeats.
She pulls her hands away shakily and looks at him, placing her wet hands on his tummy. His eyes soften, brows pulled together, the pain clearly etched onto his face. He's thought about what kind of aftercare he could provide her in the odd chance that she does say her safeword, but everything melts away. He can't hold her tightly to him and force her to drink water, or make her eat those fruit gummy snacks and then wrap her up in a towel to carry her over to the shower. He can't firmly tell her that it's okay and if she wants to be angry with him, then she absolutely can. All of that is something he wants to do, and what he wishes he could do. He's fantasized about it so much, but now, looking at her grey watery eyes and her red nose and hearing her sniffle over and over, he thinks he's the one who needs to apologize, gut filled with anger at himself for letting it get this far, and heart heavy when she begins to shiver.
Tentatively, he places his hands on her back and pushes her closer, leaning in as well. "Mia, are you okay?" He's running his hand over the small area slowly. "Can you talk?" To me?
Mia looks away, instead choosing to focus on the hem of his shirt. She lifts it and tangles her fingers in it. It takes him a second to realize that she's wiping her hands, getting rid of the moisture from her sweat and tears. "You were right. I can't take pain well." Her voice is hoarse and scratchy.
"Isn't it good that we have the safeword?"
"Yes." Mia peeks up at him. "But I didn't want to use it."
His shoulders sag, and he can't help himself from leaning in and kissing her forehead once more. "You shouldn't be afraid to use your safeword. I ask you to tell me the colors every time because I want to know that you have options when it comes to tapping out. I don't make you repeat them to me because I want to annoy you. They're important, and I'd even go so far to say that they're the most important part of this relationship. Without them..." he sighs, taking her hands from his shirt and holding them to his chest, "I wouldn't feel comfortable laying a finger on you. So please. Use your safeword when you need to."
She nods, biting down on her quivering lip. "I've just...sir, I've never felt a need to use it."
"Except today."
"I said yellow."
"I know you meant red." She shakes her head, opening her mouth to protest, and he stops her from speaking. "Before you argue with me, tell me what yellow means."
"It means that I need a break or to slow down."
He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear lovingly. "Right. Now do you want to get back into position for me to use my belt again? Right now, if I tell you to fix the pillows and lay back over them. Will you?"
"No, sir."
"Did you want me to go slower and leave time in between hits?"
Her eyes water up again, face pinching when she realizes her mistake. "No, sir," she whimpers sadly.
His jaw clenches with agony, trying his best not to engulf her in a hug. "So what did you want from me?"
"I wanted you to stop." It's bitter, but she admits it, quickly wiping away a tear before Harry's hand could reach it first. "I'm sorry, sir. I should have said my safeword..." She lunges and crushes him in a tight hug, head falling onto his chest again, body rumbling with cries. "I'm sorry, sir!"
Harry sits up a bit to get more accustomed to her bruising embrace, protective tucking her into him while his arms coil around her. He rubs her back delicately, making sure she can feel with every movement that he's right there, and he's not going anywhere. Hard kisses are pressed to the side of her head over and over until her hair is in his mouth, but it doesn't bother him at all. If it's another way that they could be entangled, then he's going to accept it.
"I wouldn't ever get upset with you for saying your safeword. Wouldn't be sad, angry, or frustrated with you. You know that, right?"
Her head moves in a direction he can only assume shows she's nodding. "It's not you. I just wanted to push myself a bit more." With a trembling breath, she relaxes into his broad chest. "I just thought I could take more. Everything was so green, until it wasn't. It was like....like a switch. One second I was good, and then the next I wanted it to be over."
"Was that when you said yellow?" He holds his breath for the answer.
"Yes. But I think I should have asked you to slow down a bit. Or maybe not hit so hard. So it's my fault."
"I've been your dominant for so long now, I believe it's my fault for not realizing you didn't like it."
"There's no way you would have known!" And there's no way she will let him take the blame.
He pushes her hair to her back and kisses her shoulder. It's a wispy kiss, barely there. "We've both learned something from this."
Mia doesn't say anything, but she has stopped crying. While she remains quiet, Harry watches the gears in her head turn. She's not falling asleep anytime soon, and she's still upset by the events that have unfolded as she was clearly excited about trying something new, something she'd been thinking about for the longest time. Had it been days or weeks? When she got stuck on something, she became unmovable.
"Sir?" she finally speaks.
"Yes?" Her eyes flutter shut when he kisses her hair.
"Were you scared?"
A smile plays on his mouth when he nods, glancing down at her. "Fuckin' terrified. Never felt so panicked."
"I'm sorry, sir. I will use my safeword next time if I need to."
"Thank you, baby. That makes me happy."
Harry knows she's okay when she can't stay still for even a minute. She picks her head up and kisses his cheek softly, just once to let him know that she's doing better. He thumbs through her lashes to catch any spare moisture. Before he can speak, she reaches over to the side table to grab his phone and then presents it to him.
With a smile, she asks, "Take a picture and show me how red my butt is?"