I bite back a smirk when the tips of your fingers slide down a little, just enough for them to slip into my waistband. I pull back from your lips, your breath mixing with mine and it makes my face sweat even more. I move my hands to your waist, that are still wet from doing the dishes.

I’ve picked up a few things since we’ve been dating, and one of them is that you’re obsessed with the fact that I’m responsible, even if it means that I do a simple chore. You’re all over me afterwards. Or if I do something for you, even if it’s just the bare minimum, you love it.

I’ve never complained about it, I love this little fetish you seem to have.

I think it’s something to do with not being treated right in the past. I’ve never asked, but I’ve never met anyone that literally gets on their knees after I wash some clothes. That’s happened before.

I’ve known you for two years, we’ve been partners in some science projects because neither of us had friends in there. I’m glad, thinking back, because I never would’ve had this. All I know about your past before dating me is that you had one boyfriend and I still don’t know what went down.

But now, I can’t even imagine life without you.

“What’s all this about?” I open my eyes and ask you, quickly drying my hands on my pants. I tilt my head and watch as your eyes met mine. You always look so innocent, I can’t even explain it. Your hands slowly slide back up my bare torso. “Cause this isn’t the first time you’ve rewarded me after doing a chore for you.” I bring my right hand up to push back some of your hair.