In the evening, I put all of mine to bed.
All my boys and girls.
Some under blankets, some under throws.
I walked through the rooms and kissed each one —
someone on the crown of the head, someone on the cheek,
every one of them with warmth.
First, the little ones — my children, real ones,
with warm palms and sleepy breathing.
Then the adults —
still carrying the same needs as children.
They were all my children.
The ones who needed to be tucked in,
covered,
soothed,
left in safety.
And only after I made sure everyone was breathing evenly,
that the night wasn’t frightening anyone,
that the world was on pause,
did I allow myself to lie down and prepare for sleep.
I’ll go pee one more time.
And do a meditation.
I was already almost switched off,
almost dissolved into the night,
into that quiet space between “just a little longer” and sleep.

I wonder how Nate is…
And at that exact moment, a FaceTime call came in.
God.
With him, it’s always like this —
all it takes is a thought,
and he’s already here.
“Hi…”
“Hi, kitten. I miss you terribly.”
I blushed.
Instantly.
As if he were standing right next to me,
not somewhere far away across the night city.
“Isn’t it night where you are?”
“Why are you still up… can’t sleep?”
He licked his lips.
I didn’t even see it —
but I knew.
“God, Nate…”
“You’re such a pervert.”
“Kitten, please close your eyes.”
I hesitated a little.
Just a little.
But in the end, I agreed.
I switched off the light.
Only the soft rectangle of the laptop remained,
as if the night had left us a small window.
“Kitten…” he purred.
And my body flared up instantly.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
I understood what he wanted
before he even did anything.
“Nate…”
“God, Nate…”
“Kitten.”
“My little mouse.”
“My angel.”
I blushed all over —
right to the tips of my fingers.
“How was your day?”
“I…
I don’t know…
I can’t think about that right now…”
And he took off his shirt.
“Oh God, Nate, that’s not fair.
You’re so far away, and I’m here without you.”
“I’ll help you, kitten.”
I swallowed hard.
He won’t force me…
“My little mouse…”
“Will you take off your dress?”
“Nate, I… I can’t… I— Nate…”
“My love… please.”
God, how can you say no to him?
One strap slipped down,
barely revealing my chest.
The second followed,
giving in to the weight of the fabric.
I was left in nothing but my underwear.
“My love…”
“I need your permission.”
I moaned, arching with my whole body,
as if an invisible thread were pulling me toward him.
“Kitten… please… I need to know…”
I nodded.
He tilted his head back—
something in him shifted.
I swallowed again.
He looked at me very slowly—
not undressing me with his eyes,
but reading me,
marking,
choosing rhythm and depth,
like a musician before the first touch of the strings.
Nate’s energy was so strong
he didn’t need to touch me physically.
He could control me easily
just by tuning himself—
and distance stopped mattering.
He led me with his voice,
with his attention,
with that thick, lingering presence
that made my body find the right shape on its own,
my breath—the right tempo.
“Kitten, you’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.
I moaned again.
And at some point
we stopped being on opposite sides of the screen.
I dissolved into this contact,
into this current between words and pauses,
where pleasure and sharp intensity
were woven so tightly together
that it was impossible to tell
where one ended
and the other began.
I felt his attention on every part of me,
and my body answered—
with arches,
with trembling,
with complete surrender.
I felt him gather himself completely.
Not with his body—with intention.
There was no rush in him,
no haste,
only this dense, solid presence
that made my thoughts blur
and my body obey
before my mind could catch up.
He looked at me
as if he saw not only me now,
but all my reactions ahead of time.
He marked the places
where he intended to play,
where to apply pressure,
driving me mad.
Resisting was pointless.
A wave rose inside me—
warm, anxious, sweet.
“He leads,”
the thought flickered.
Because Nate always leads.
I felt my body respond on its own,
without command,
without words.
His hand traced along my spine—
warm, confident, knowing the way.
And everything inside me ignited at once,
as if someone had flipped a switch.
Desire covered me in a dense wave —
not sharp,
but slow,
viscous,
the kind that makes it hard to breathe
and impossible to retreat.
I caught myself
reaching for my lips,
my fingers moving there on their own,
as if my body needed something to hold on to,
to ground itself,
not to fall apart
from the overload of sensation.
He held me with his attention.
Not by force —
by intention.
The sudden wildness of his bite tore a sound out of me —
from how precise, how exact it was.
“Nate… please…”
But he didn’t hurry.
He stretched time itself,
making every second grow thicker,
deeper,
almost unbearable.
Sensations rolled in waves —
hot,
sharp,
so intense that my body arched on its own,
reacting before a thought could even form.
He didn’t let me go,
and at some point
the first tremor hit —
sudden,
stealing my breath,
as if something inside me snapped loose.
I couldn’t inhale.
Couldn’t gather myself.
Only feel.
Only allow.
“God, Nate, let go…”
He held on to it, tightening his grip, refusing to let go,
never easing his focus,
and my body answered with another wave —
stronger,
deeper.
I lost track of time.
Lost all orientation.
I arched,
breaking apart in waves of endless pleasure,
in total surrender —
the kind where you can disappear
and still be caught
by this wild man.
He continued, stretching the torment further.
I felt him not with my skin,
but with my entire body at once.
He was close,
his attention sliding slowly over me,
and from that nearness
everything inside me began to melt.
“Oh God, Nate… please…”
He brushed my neck with a kiss —
then bit down sharply,
and I arched and moaned again,
short, breath breaking.
“Nate… I’m begging you…”
His hand closed around me, firm and certain,
and the world narrowed to that single point.
I cried out again —
from overflow,
from how suddenly the wave crashed over me.
He held my hand in his,
not taking away my freedom,
but taking away the excess tension,
so I could dissolve completely.
I had stopped counting —
time,
flashes,
how many times my body answered.
I bit his lip
and raked my nails down his back.
Blood surfaced instantly. 
He leaned in and whispered,
so close
that every word echoed inside me as a tremor.
A perfect ten — Nate with no restraints.
Darkness in control —
Nate fully integrated with it.
The beast on a chain — already inside.
I could barely breathe,
from fear and desire at the same time.
He slid his fingers into my hair and pulled again.
My head tipped back against my will.
I blushed,
but everything in me was begging:
don’t stop.
“Kitten…”
His voice dropped lower,
slower.
“Such a delicate flower…”
I bit my lip.
“Tell me you don’t like this.
Tell me you don’t crave it the way I do.
That you’re not just as consumed by it.”
I bit my lip again.
He unfolded further,
stepping deeper into his power.
He slowed down,
stretching the moment,
and my head began to spin —
from anticipation,
from that sweet, viscous pause.
“Nate… oh my God…”
He swallowed.
I reached for him,
answering with my whole body,
and in that answering movement
he became stronger,
deeper,
still in control —
but giving the darkness an outlet.
“Kitten…”
He kissed me —
so deeply that my breath finally broke.
He turned gentle, unhurried,
his movements slowing,
awakening in me an almost animal response.
And again.
And again.
Until at some point
everything inside tightened into a single point,
and I arched,
losing all support,
dying of pleasure
and returning again and again.
“Kitten…”
“Little mouse…”
I surfaced slowly,
as if from warm water,
trying to understand where I was,
in what time,
in what body.
Nate was there in front of me.
Calm.
Collected.
A look with no pressure left —
only attention.
“Hi, my love.”
“Hi…”
My heart was still beating unevenly,
my breath searching for its familiar rhythm,
my skin holding the memory of touch.
“Did you like it?”
I closed my eyes from embarrassment.
He smiled —
that most disarming smile of his,
the kind that makes you want
to turn away
and move closer at the same time.
Shameless.
Absolutely shameless, Nate.