Completely His (Part 1)

 

>you’re in his lap again.

>your favourite spot.

>wait

>...

>how long have you been out?

 

You slowly perk up, lifting your head to gather your surroundings. Yep, you fell asleep in master’s lap again. His right hand recoils a bit by your sudden bout of awake-ness. Is that a word? Who cares.

 

He pulls his hand back slightly and looks down at you, that smirk slowly forming on his face again. That smirk that you playfully pretend to get annoyed and pouty about, purely because you can’t imagine how cute you’re being without knowing it.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Seven and a half hours, that must be a new record.”

“Good morning, master.” you sleepily bring yourself to muster, your tail slowly starting to wag at the mere sound of his voice. You could fall asleep to it, and you probably have. Anyway.

 

“How long was I asleep on your lap for, master?”

“Well, after you asked to get up on my lap while we watched movies, I had a feeling I knew what was next, and just came to terms with the idea that we were going to be sleeping on the couch again tonight.”

 

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry master!! I couldn’t help it!!”

 

“I know you couldn’t. Just as I can’t force myself to lift you off my lap and go carry you to my bed so we can sleep there. You do everything but purr in my lap while you’re sleeping, too. Who’d want to miss that?”

 

>you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smirking again.

>drat

 

You slowly manage to rise to your hooves, yawning and raising your haunches in the air, making sure not to hit master with your wings as they flare out. Okay, you gotta admit, you know how cute you are sometimes. You’ll never admit it though. Unless he told you to say that you were, which I mean, would work I suppose.

 

>implying he’s never done that before.

 

After your grandiose spectacle of making yourself the cutest thing in this room, nay, this planet, you manage to finally hop off his lap, in pursuit of some water.

 

“Finally, pet. I figured I was going to have to prepare my will. I thought you’d never spare me the mercy of being able to stand again. I figured I was going to die here on this couch, with my darling pet in my lap. Do you want to hear what I thought about putting on my grave?”

 

“Uhhh, I guess? A bit of a morbid question, and I can barely stomach the thought of you going on an errand run, let alone dying.”

 

“I thought about putting ‘she just wouldn’t get off my lap!’ on there, signed as if it was a quote from me. I thought that’d be funny.”

 

All you can manage is a small noise of disagreement as you make your way to the kitchen. You hear your master get up shortly after as he passes you with ease, opting to make himself a bowl of cruddy microwave bacon. You don’t pay him much mind as you go to town on your little plate of oats and blueberries, your favourite.

 

After scarfing away at your food and water for a bit, you decide you’ve had enough for now, and decide that curling up on the cold floor next to master’s feet. You rest your head on your hooves and don’t really seem to notice as your tail wags happily, hitting him lightly as it does so.

 

After a few short minutes of laying there on the cold floor, the cold finally getting to your fluffy pegasus body, opting instead to lay somewhere where the ground doesn’t deprive your body of it’s much needed warmth. You end up jumping up onto the couch, curling up near the end and using one of the armrests as a pillow as you zone out and stare at whatever thing master left on the tv. Before long you catch your eyes getting slightly heavy… so sleepy… zzzzzzzz.

 

 

With a start you’re awake again, your ears instantly perking up at the sound of your master jingling the leash and whistling, calling out your name and giving you that treatment you’ve learned to love. You immediately jump off the couch and scramble to the best of your ability to run to the door.

 

>curse these hooves and their nonexistent ability to get traction on any surface that isn’t carpet!

 

As you start to pick up basically any speed, you forget about your curse. The bell on your collar immediately starts to jingle as it hits your chest fluff. It happens whenever you walk or do anything, but it’s all but deafening when you run, alerting any and everyone to your presence. You scramble to a halt in front of master as he holds the leash in his hand, right next to the door. You don’t even have to look up at him to just know he’s smirking at you.

 

“That was incredibly fast. Did you run?”

 

You look up at him and give him your best “take a wild guess” look, breathing heavily. You can’t imagine anyone else that would be able to make you run like that. It’s worth it for walkies though. You love walkies.

 

Master slowly clips the leash to the back of your collar and tugs gently to make sure it’s secured. You wonder if it’s also to see the immediate blush show up on your face the instant he tugs on your leash at all, but you digress. After a minute or so the door is opened and he lets you take the lead as he walks you around the yard, checking his phone as he leaves you to do your business. After a few minutes of idle walking and doing your uhm… business, your master gives you a pat on the head and a little “good girl!” for your behavior.

 

You do your happy little trot and prance back inside the house, your long colorful tail wagging the entire time. Master sits himself down on the couch as he idly browses through channels. You notice an open opportunity for getting petted and immediately jump up on the couch. He lets out a playful sigh, reaching for the brush that he keeps up on the table next to the couch. As soon as you see this, you lay down long ways across his lap. The audible noise of glee that escapes your muzzle as you feel him take the brush and slowly start to brush your mane. His expert-like hands make their way to your wings, massaging them slightly as he continues to brush your mane and tail, your back arching in pleasure as every nerve in your body fires with the force of a million supernovas. He continues this act of playing your body like a skilled pianist for what feels like an hour, but couldn’t have possibly lasted more than 20 minutes, going off the fact that the show on tv is still playing the episode that was playing when you first jumped up onto the couch.

 

After a bit, master pulls his hands away, opting instead to put you next to him and occasionally rub behind your ears or scratch under your chin. You could do this forever. You have a crippling addiction to physical affection, and no one has your fix more than your master.