A/N: Had a sudden urge to play with these two again. This is what came out of that. My undying love and thanks to Chicklette, rmhaleff, and fiberkitty for their beta brains, help, advice and support. Seriously ladies, thank you so very much.

As always, I don't own them, I just make them do dirty things.

Edward is a wreck.

He hasn't stopped fidgeting or pulling at the collar of his shirt, while bouncing his leg up and down under the table. I place my hand on his knee and give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him with my presence. Edward's leg stops bouncing, but he begins to play with the ring on his finger, twisting it over and over and over.

"Edward, calm down."

"I can't," he whispers. "What if they hate me?"

"They won't. No one hates you."

"But what if they do?"

They are Edward's paternal grandparents: Anthony and Elise Masen. Edward was able to find the identities of his birth parents, but his mother didn't want any contact. His father, Edward Masen Sr., was deceased but his parents were still alive, and we're at a restaurant waiting to meet them for the first time.

We are also a good twenty minutes early because of Edward's nerves.

An earlier round in our playroom did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. It seems short of keeping Edward within subspace, something I didn't want to do while here, I'm stuck with his incessant fidgeting.

With his hands bound behind his back, I pull him down over my knees. He flails at first, as he always does. This position is one that makes him feel very vulnerable, and I know he much prefers to be able to place his hands on the floor in front of him for balance. But right now, I need him to trust me and my judgment, to relax at my touch, to find his headspace and maintain it for later, and to rely on me to meet his needs.

I wait while he settles himself across my legs, and I keep a comforting hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing circles over the soft skin. When he finally stills, I run my other hand up his thighs and over the swell of his ass, enjoying the feel of his muscles as they twitch in response. His cock grows hard against my leg, and I know my jeans will have a telltale wet spot by the time I'm through with him.

This isn't about getting off, not for me. This is about what Edward needs, and it is my responsibility to see that he gets it, that he obtains a sense of calm and tranquility.

I tell him to count out loud, and begin to spank him. Although this is about him, I can't deny how much I enjoy the feel of his soft skin, or the sound the palm of my hand makes with each smack. I love watching his skin whiten and then pink in response, heating under my ministrations. The way his muscles clench, then relax with each stroke is beautiful, and his breathy sounds are intoxicating.

On the eighth stroke I ask him, "Who are you?"

After he counts, he says his name.

On the ninth I ask him, "Who do you belong to?"

After he counts, he says that he is mine.

On the tenth, I begin to repeat the questions.

By the sixteenth stroke he is relaxed and pliable against me, his voice practically humming as he says, "I'm yours, Master. Always yours."

"That's right, pet. You're mine, and I take care of what's mine," I remind him as I run a soothing hand over his ass. The skin is warm to the touch and bright pink. I balance him with one hand and reach beside me with the other, grabbing a bottle of lube and thick plug.

Preparing him quickly with my fingers, I tell him, "This is to remind you who you belong to, to remind you that I will always take care of you." And then I begin to press the plug into him. I twist and press, giving it a few short thrusts and making Edward moan before I seat it fully inside him. I love watching the way his body accepts it, hearing his whimpers, and I chuckle as he unconsciously begins to hump my leg a little.

I give his bottom another quick slap, more teasing than anything else and then tap the base of the plug. "Patience, pet. That'll come later." I uncuff his hands and help him to his feet. "Now go shower and get ready."

And it all seemed to work, until we got to the restaurant. Despite my earlier efforts, he's a mess and it's my responsibility to bring him down before his grandparents get here. He needs to be at his best, something I can help him with.

Leaning over, I use the voice usually reserved for our playroom and tell him, "Get up and go to the bathroom. Now."

Edward turns and stares at me, wide eyed, before he audibly swallows and scoots out of his seat. A minute later I follow him.

When I enter the bathroom he's standing there, eyes looking down, hands behind his back, but I can still see the tension and nervousness in every line of his body.

He needs this.

I do a quick scan of the bathroom, and when I see that it's otherwise empty, I push him into the larger, handicap stall. Clicking the latch shut I tell him, "On your knees."

Edward looks at the floor, as if assessing how dirty it may be, then back up at me.

"Unless you want me to stripe your ass hard enough to keep you from sitting for a week, don't make me repeat myself."

Edward drops to his knees in an instant. The memory of the last time he earned such a harsh punishment still stings. It wasn't pleasant for either of us, but it had been necessary at the time.

I unbutton and unzip my pants and pull my cock out. It's already half hard from seeing Edward on his knees. A potent reminder of the power he wields over me. "Open your mouth and keep your hands behind your back."

He opens his mouth and I slide my dick in, all the way to the base and rest there for a moment, allowing it to become fully hard in his mouth, feeling him work to breathe around it, to swallow.

Pulling back a little I say, "Suck me."

Edward moans a bit as he begins to suck. It's a little awkward for him, without his hands and I hold his head, guiding him. Slipping his mouth over my cock, his tongue circles the tip and presses against the length as he swallows me down. I know we don't have much time, so I begin to help him, thrusting gently, fucking his mouth just a little.

The groan he lets out as I start to move is one of abject need. "Like that, pet? You like it when I fuck your face, don't you?"

His muffled whimpers are all the response I need, and I begin to move a little faster. "That's it, pet. Take it. Such a good little cocksucker. So eager to please me, aren't you?"

Edward looks at me and nods, his mouth stretched obscenely over my cock as it slides all spit-slick through his parted lips.

"Gonna come," I warn, and shove myself all the way into his mouth, until I'm buried to the hilt. I come hard, spilling down his throat, feeling him swallow it all around me.

After I pull away, I tuck myself back into my pants. Edward is still on his knees, panting a little.

"Get up," I tell him, and as soon as he's on his feet, spin him around and push him against the tiled wall. With my left hand I grab both his wrists and pin them above his head. My right hand moves down and palms his hard dick through his pants.

"Got hard sucking me off? Slut." Unbuttoning his pants, I pull them down to his thighs. My hand trails up his leg and I squeeze his ass, hard. "Such a pretty little slut. I bet you want me to fuck you now, don't you?"

"Master," he pants.

My fingers trail up the crack of his ass until they find the base of the plug. I grasp it and hear his breathing hitch. Pulling it, then twisting it hard before pushing it back into him, I say, "Is that what you want, you want me to fuck you?"

"Oh, God," he whimpers.

The creak of the door alerts us to the presence of another. I tighten my grip on Edward's wrists as I feel him tense, and my right hand grabs his cock and begins to stroke it. Leaning against his back I whisper, "Want me to fuck you now? Let him hear it?"

Edward's cheek is pressed against the wall, and I can see him bite his lip with the effort to remain quiet. My hand continues stroking him, up and down his shaft, the silky skin becoming slick with precum.

His hips begin to pump as he tries to fuck my fist, so I press against him until my hand is against the wall and he has nowhere to go.

When I'm sure he won't move anymore, I pull back and stroke him again, whispering in his ear, "Do you want to come?"

He nods frantically, and we can hear the other man in the stall next to us.

In the barest of whispers I tell him, "I planned a big scene for tonight. I was going to let you come as many times as you could get it up, but if you come now, I'm only going to let you come once later."

Edward stills for a moment as he thinks about it, then nods.

I grin. He's going to be sorry later, but I know he needs this now.

There is the sound of a zipper being lowered and then of someone peeing. "You want him to hear you come, don't you?" I continue to whisper as I jack him, laughing quietly when he refuses to answer. "Slut. But you're my slut aren't you?"

Edward nods again and looks over his shoulder at me, his eyes full of love and desire and abject need.

There is flush next to us, then the sound of a zipper.

My hand continues to move up and down his cock. Twisting a little at the head and then sliding down, just like he likes it. I feel him tense and know he's on the edge. "Go on then, give it up for me, pet," I command as quietly as possible.

And he does, painting the wall in front of him and coating my hand. His eyes are screwed shut, and if he doesn't stop biting his lip he's going to draw blood. We hear the flow of water at the sink, and Edward sags in my arms.

I kiss his damp neck. "Good boy," I murmur. "Such a good boy."

The door opens, there are footsteps and then it closes, and we're in silence again. I haven't moved away from him yet. I let go of his hands and cup his chin, turning his face toward me and kissing him.

"Love you," I tell him, grounding him, before I pull away and we clean up and set him to rights.

Standing at the sink, we each wash our hands.

"Feeling better?" I ask him.

He smiles at me, and I can see that he's less tense. The lines of his body are almost languid, content and confident.

"Yeah," he replies. "Thank you."

We kiss once more and then make our way back out to the dining room. A few minutes later we're meeting Edward's grandparents, and they're hugging him tight. Lunch is a success. Anthony and Elise are warm and loving, and have no issue with the fact that Edward is gay or with our relationship. We part with promises of future meetings and family dinners; Edward is practically floating as we walk to the exit.

Holding the door open for him as he walks out I tell him, "By the way, Master Garrett and Seth are coming over tonight. Just thought you'd like to know exactly what you gave up."

Edward turns to look at me, surprise and frustration painted all over his expressive face, and he nearly trips over his own two feet. "That's not fair!" he complains.

I raise an eyebrow and he presses his lips into a thin line. A soft chuckle escapes me as I open the car door, and Edward sits down in a huff. Laughing again, I close the door and make my way around to the driver's side. Sliding into my seat I feel my resolve give a little.

"Tell you what, pet. If you're really good, maybe I'll let you earn a few of them back."

His answering smile is worth everything.

a/n: hope that was good for you too. ;)