3: The Ask

As I wake my body aches pleasantly, a reminder to the passionate night I had with my perfect wife last night. Beside me, Sirre sleeps soundly, her auburn hair spread across the pillow like a halo of fire. The sheets cling to our bodies, still damp from our lovemaking, the scent of sweat and sex lingering in the air.

I can't help but smile as I gaze at her peaceful face. Last night, she was a force of nature, wild and uninhibited. Now, in the quiet of the morning, she looks almost angelic.

Leaning over, I press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She doesn't stir, lost in the depths of sleep. I decide to let her rest. After all, she's earned it.

Carefully, I extract myself from the tangle of sheets and limbs. The floorboards creak softly under my feet as I stand, a familiar melody of our old inn. I pause for a moment, drinking in the sight of Sirre's sleeping form, before quietly making my way out of the room.

The stairs groan under my weight as I descend to the common room. The inn is eerily quiet at this hour, the usual bustle of patrons replaced by a peaceful stillness.

As I enter the kitchen, the scent of last night's dinner still lingers faintly in the air. I breathe deeply, letting the familiar smells of our home wash over me. Normally, Sirre would be down here already, preparing breakfast for our guests. Today, I decide, I'll surprise her.

—

As I continue cooking breakfast, I can see past the kitchen counter as Babin walks in. It's surprising that he left the inn and already got back so early. He sees me and gives me a friendly smile, sitting in front of the kitchen counter.

"Good morning, Orth," he says, his deep voice still rough with sleep.

Despite the awkwardness from yesterday, he actually seems like a friendly guy.

"Good morning. Breakfast will be out shortly."

I turn back to the stove, where bacon sizzles in a cast-iron skillet, filling the kitchen with its savory aroma. The eggs sit in a bowl nearby, waiting to be scrambled. I can feel Babin's eyes on me as I work, and I'm hyper-aware of every movement I make.

"Smells good," Babin comments. "You're quite the cook."

I chuckle nervously, breaking eye contact to flip the bacon. "Oh, this is nothing. Sirre's the real talent in the kitchen."

As I turn back to the stove, I notice Babin studying me intently, a curious glint in his eye. The sizzle of bacon fills the air, mingling with the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee.

"You seem really chipper today," Babin observes, his deep voice laced with amusement. "Like something good happened to you."

I can't help but chuckle, a warmth spreading through my chest as memories of last night flood my mind. The way Sirre had looked at me, her green eyes blazing with passion and understanding. The feeling of her body against mine, moving in perfect harmony. The whispered promises and shared vulnerability.

"I guess you could say that," I reply.

Babin's face breaks into a wide grin, his earlier weariness seeming to lift a bit. "That's good. I'm happy to hear you had good fortune."

"What about you?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Have you found what you've been looking for?"

Babin's smile falters, and he shakes his head, exhaustion returning to his eyes. "No," he sighs, "not yet."

I whisk the eggs, the fork scraping rhythmically against the bowl. "What are you even looking for?"

Babin's lips quirk up in a wry smile. "Well," he drawls, a mischievous glint returning to his eye, "right now, just a blow job." He laughs, the sound rich and deep filling the kitchen.

I chuckle uncomfortably. The spatula trembles slightly in my hand as I turn back to the stove, focusing intently on the eggs sizzling in the pan.

Suddenly, I hear Babin's sharp intake of breath behind me. "Ah, sorry," he says quickly, his deep voice tinged with panic. "I didn't mean to make it uncomfortable."

I turn to face him. "You know," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "there are brothels on the other side of Dord."

Babin nods vigorously, his blue eyes wide with embarrassment. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he mumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair.

He stands abruptly, the legs of his stool scraping loudly against the worn floorboards. The sound echoes in the quiet kitchen, seeming to underscore the awkwardness of the moment. Babin's imposing frame is tense, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself smaller.

"Oh, by the way," he says, not quite meeting my eyes, "I'm going to stay another night." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out five copper coins. They clink softly as he places them on the counter, the dull gleam of the metal catching the early morning light.

I nod, grateful for the change in subject. "That's good to hear," I reply, my voice sounding more normal now.

Babin gives me a tight smile before turning and heading for the stairs. His footsteps are heavy on the old wood, each creak and groan of the steps marking his ascent.

I'm just setting the plates on the wooden serving tray when I hear the familiar creak of the stairs again. My heart quickens as Sirre's footsteps draw closer, light and graceful compared to Babin's heavy tread. The sound of her approach sends a thrill through me, memories of last night flooding back unbidden.

As she enters the kitchen, my breath catches in my throat. Sirre is wearing one of her beautiful work dresses, a deep forest green that brings out the emerald of her eyes. The fabric hugs her curves in all the right places, the neckline dipping just low enough to be enticing without being improper.

Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her, the plates of steaming food, the freshly brewed coffee, the tidy kitchen. "Honey, you made breakfast today?" she asks, her voice tinged with surprise and something warmer, almost like pride.

I can't help but smile, warmth spreading through my chest at her reaction. "I thought you deserved a break after last night," I reply, my voice low and intimate.

Sirre's lips curve into a sultry smile, her eyes darkening with remembered passion. She takes a step closer, her gaze traveling down my body. Suddenly, her eyebrows shoot up, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes.

"Oh my," she purrs, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "is the stud out to play again today?"

I follow her gaze, realizing with a start that I'm sporting a rather obvious erection. The combination of last night's memories, Babin's earlier comments, and now Sirre's presence has left me in a state of constant arousal.

I decide to pull the trigger on a thought I've been pushing off. My heart pounds in my chest as I gather my courage, the words sticking in my throat.

"Sirre," I begin hesitantly, "if I asked you to grant Babin's request... would you be opposed to doing it?" The words tumble out in a rush. "It's just... we could really use the extra money." I falter at the end, afraid to admit what I really want.

Sirre's playful expression vanishes, replaced by a look of intense seriousness. She steps closer, her body pressing against mine as she pulls me into a tight embrace. I can feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, smell the intoxicating scent of her hair.

Her voice is low and firm as she speaks, her breath tickling my ear. "If it's just for the money, I'd rather go broke and be homeless than whore myself out."

Her words hit me like a physical blow, shame and guilt washing over me in equal measure. I open my mouth to apologize, to take it all back, but Sirre isn't finished.

"But," she continues, pulling back slightly to look me in the eyes, "if it's because you want it... because it excites you..." Her gaze is searching, probing, looking for something in my expression. "Then that's a different story entirely."

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. The air between us feels charged, electric with possibility. Sirre's eyes never leave mine as she waits for my response, patient but expectant.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure Sirre can hear it. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too warm.

"I... I want it," I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between us, heavy with implications. "I want to watch you... give another man a blow job."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see a change come over Sirre. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her face, transforming her expression from serious to seductive in an instant.

"What else?" she purrs, her voice low and husky. She presses closer, her body molding against mine. I can feel the heat of her through our clothes, the softness of her curves contrasting with the hard planes of my body.

The air crackles with tension, thick with unspoken desires and possibilities. Sirre's fingers trail up my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her touch is light, teasing, a promise of more to come.

"Tell me, honey," she whispers, her lips brushing against my ear. "What else do you want to see?"

I take a deep breath, my heart racing as I prepare to bear my deepest, darkest desires. "I want to see you... taking him fully," I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. "I want to watch as he enters you, see the pleasure on your face as he fills you up."

Sirre's eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and arousal flickering across her features. Her fingers tighten on my arm, nails digging into my skin ever so slightly. "Go on," she breathes, her voice thick with desire.

Emboldened by her response, I continue, my words coming faster now. "I want to see you riding him, your head thrown back in ecstasy. I want to hear the sounds you make as he thrusts into you, deeper and harder than I ever could."

A soft moan escapes Sirre's lips, her body pressing even closer to mine. I barely notice my wandering fingers rubbing her wet pussy under her dress.

"And then," I say, my voice dropping even lower, "I want to see you with two men at once. One taking you from behind while you pleasure the other with your mouth. I want to watch as they use you, filling every hole, leaving you gasping and trembling with pleasure."

Sirre's breath hitches as I push my finger into her tight, wet heat, her eyes darkening with lust. Her hand slides down my chest, coming to rest on the bulge in my trousers. "Is that all?" she purrs, her touch teasing and light.

I swallow hard, gathering my courage for one final confession. "No," I admit. "I want to see you completely overwhelmed. Surrounded by men, all of them taking turns with you. I want to watch as they fuck you senseless, leaving you a quivering, cum-soaked mess."

She moans again, a deep, throaty sound that sends shivers down my spine. Before I can react, Sirre's lips are on mine, hot and demanding. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting of mint and desire. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as she deepens the kiss.

I'm lost in the sensation, my body responding with a fierce hunger. My hands roam her curves, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. I'm about to lift her onto the counter to take her right there among the breakfast dishes when she suddenly pulls away.

"No, no," Sirre pants, her chest heaving. "Save that cock for tonight."

Her eyes are filled with lust, her lips swollen from our kiss. A mischievous smile plays at the corners of her mouth as she takes a step back, smoothing down her rumpled dress. I can see the outline of her hardened nipples through the fabric, a tantalizing reminder of what's to come.

She leans in again, this time placing a softer, more tender kiss on my lips. It's sweet and loving, a stark contrast to the passionate frenzy of moments ago. When she pulls away, her eyes are filled with a mixture of love and excitement.

Sirre takes a deep breath, composing herself. Her cheeks are still flushed, her hair slightly mussed from our embrace. She looks utterly beautiful, and I feel my heart swell with love for this amazing woman.

"Orth," she says, her voice steady despite the lingering heat in her gaze, "if that's really what you want, I'll do it."

My breath catches in my throat, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. It's one thing to fantasize, another entirely to make it reality. Sirre must see the conflict in my eyes because she reaches out, taking my hand in hers.

"But are you sure you're ready?" she asks, her thumb tracing soothing circles on my palm.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. The weight of the decision hangs heavy in the air between us, filled with possibilities both thrilling and terrifying. I think of all we've been through together, the trust we've built, the love we share. Finally, I nod.

"Yes," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "I'm ready."

She nods, her eyes softening with understanding. "One thing, though," Sirre says, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm never going to do it without you asking me. So if you want to turn me into some bar whore, you're going to have to take the lead."

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. "Thank you, honey."

Sirre's lips curl into a playful smirk. "Don't thank me yet," she purrs, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. "You'll have to do a lot to make sure I don't get stolen away."

Her words hit me like a physical blow, sending a jolt of panic through my system. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around me. The scent of bacon and coffee, so comforting moments ago, now turns my stomach.

Images flash through my mind, Sirre in the arms of another man, her face contorted in ecstasy as he takes her. Sirre leaving me, walking out of our inn and our life together. The thought of losing her, of watching her be taken away, is almost too much to bear.

Sirre must see the panic in my eyes because her expression immediately shifts from playful to concerned. "Oh, honey," she says quickly, reaching out to cup my face in her hands. "No, no, that would never happen. I promise."

Her touch is warm and familiar, grounding me in the moment. I lean into her hands, drawing comfort from her presence. Sirre's green eyes are wide and earnest as she looks at me, filled with love and reassurance.

"I was just teasing," she continues, her voice soft and soothing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I take a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the panic slowly start to recede. Sirre pulls me into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I bury my face in her hair.

"You're my husband, my partner, my love," Sirre murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. "No one could ever steal me away from you. This is just play, just fantasy. At the end of the day, it's you and me. Always."

Her words wash over me like a soothing balm, easing the lingering tendrils of fear. I pull back slightly, looking into her eyes. The love and devotion I see there make my heart swell.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

Sirre smiles, a soft, tender expression that makes her whole face light up. "I love you too," she replies, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my lips.