If someone told mouse a decade ago that she'd be happily married to Omega, she would have snorted out a laugh and it's quite possible that she would walked away. Nothing could make her believe that would come true. Yet it was ten years ago that he did wander back into her life and changed everything. It didn't happen quickly, it was slow and surprising.
One day, at work she turned around and saw him standing nearby, after blinking and rubbing her eyes in disbelief she ran the other way. Sure eventually we spoke, we saw each other casually, very casually at first. He was in no rush and neither was mouse. Like an orbit that slowly with each pass moves a little closer together. Time, the great equalizer, helped us both to see that we did always belong together.
Even if the days of objectification stretch into weeks of sex from behind, without a chance for a proper orgasm for mouse, his hands pawing, kneeding, twisting already sore breasts. It reminds her, often painfully that she's there for him to use. The payoff she recieves is different. While she's rarely paid in an orgasm, often she feels the security and the safety of being in his arms.
He makes certain her car is safe to drive, that the carbon monoxide detector has batteries, that our applences she uses are safe -- that her life is as worry free as it can possibly be. He hides from her, whenever possible the unplesentness of the world. He knows that he simply cannot sheild her from all of it, and when the worldly fears get to be too much, he will embrace her until the alarm she holds subside. Without words Master/Daddy/Omega demonstrates how important mouse is to him. While at times our orbit might wobble slightly, it does remain true.
The simple truth, or perhaps the honest truth is that she doesn't know when our roads merged or how we ended on the road we're on. Maybe it's best not to question it?