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"Sebastian! Come here." Ceil calls for me and so I come, "Kneel."
It's an unusual order but of course, I obey. He strokes fingers through my hair lightly. He knows I prefer it not be disturbed.
"Did you choose this form on purpose? This body?"
"Ah, yes, I took on this form when we first met."
"You have good taste, I approve."
"But of course, my lord."
He's grown so much since then and I take a moment to appreciate it. One could mistake him for being full-grown now. My gaze lingers on his face, his expression seems almost... bashful. What could cause such an expression, I wonder. I do not have to wait long. When one hand goes down to fiddle with his belt I have a dawning suspicion.
"May I?" he asks.
I wonder for a moment if he's ever asked my permission for anything, then let my voice go a bit deeper, seductive, "of course, master, you may use me in this as in everything." There lingers a note of sincerity though, afterall I cannot lie to him.
He straightens and finds his courage again, making eye contact, "then, open your mouth."
I do so as he unbuckles his belt and takes out his cock. It is unremarkable in both size and look but I do not care about such things anyhow. He nudges it against my lips and I carefully take it deep into my mouth. He's just big enough I can't take him to the root without choking. I attempt it anyway once, twice, before I remember how revolting the sound of choking is to me (unless, of course, my lord gives me his order.) Instead I pull off a moment to slip off my gloves, revealing our mark on my hand. Then I wrap my fingers around him delicately.
"Get on with it then," he huffs, but I can see the blush rising in his face.
"Of course, Master." I let the title linger on my tongue a bit longer than usual before I take him back into my mouth, using my hands to stroke over the rest of him now. I am as good at this as I am at anything and soon my lord is coming into my mouth. I'm not particularly fond of the taste, but I swallow it anyway, it wouldn't do to make a mess.
I pull off and lick my lips, glancing up to see the young Master's reaction. It is as good as I was hoping. He is flushed and disheveled in a way I want to reach out and set right again, eyes half lidded and breath still uneven.
"Sebastian," he meets my gaze, and the hunger there is something I've never seen on his face before, "This is an order. Now, Cum."
I gasp, choke on my own breath as pleasure so intense it's nearly pain sings up my spine. Blood rushing in my ears I find myself pressing up against his boot. I clutch at the bed sheet, his pant leg. I feel my voice break on a moan without hearing it and it's not artful or perfect.
My master's eyes gleam down at me in curiosity, "how was that?"
"I-" I clear my throat, try to sound as unaffected as possible, "I'm afraid you've made quite the mess of these pants, my lord."