Title: Taking Care of Daddy
Author: Jasward Bound
Plot Bunny Inspiration: # 7: Daddy kink
Disclaimer: If you recognize, it's hers, if you don't, it's mine.
Yeah, I have a rotten temper. Always did. I'm not gonna try and sugarcoat it. But in my defense, it had been a long fucking day at the ass end of a long fucking week. I was tired as hell, and only partly from the eighty plus hours I'd put in since one of our key customers had called for an emergency come-to-Jesus meeting at 4:45pm last Friday. The rest was aggravation fatigue from the ass kissing it had taken to keep that account while that fucking fat-assed breeder from Altoona blamed me for his loss of market share. At the top of his lungs. As if it had nothing to do with his competitor undercutting his prices by twenty percent.
Fucking traffic that crawled along at twelve fucking miles per hour didn't fucking help either.
I know, that was a lot of cursing for one sentence, but it had been that kind of week. Finally, the fire was out, my client and his big gut were on their way back to the wife and kiddies in PA, and my agency had his signature on a new contract that was almost as fat as he was. At that moment the boss was treating the rest of the team to old scotch, fine cigars and thick steaks at Luca's, but all I wanted was to get home to my little slice of renovated bungalow heaven. I planned to break the land speed record getting my ass connected to my couch in front of some great old movie with a icy lager in one hand, Tino's signature steak sandwich in the other, and my cute boyfriend cuddled up next to me.
God, would I ever get used to that word? More to the point, would I ever get used to applying it to a man twelve years my junior? I'd been happily single, or so I'd told myself, when this gorgeous twink had latched himself to my side at a party one night. When I'd taken him home, my plan had been a pleasurable, but one-time, Friday night fuck. I don't know what J had in mind that night, but by Sunday morning I'm pretty sure he'd decided he wasn't going anywhere. Yes, that's J. Not Jay and heaven forbid not Jasper, unless you were in the mood for a queened out hissy fit.
I'd tried to tell him to go find some friends his own age to play with, but J had a way of not hearing anything he didn't want to hear. At twenty, he was more completely sure of what he wanted than most men twice his age. So, despite my many half-hearted attempts to oust him, he'd never left. He'd put up with my insane work schedule, ignored my nasty temper, and coaxed me out of my foul moods for nearly a year. If he was a bit immature or inconsiderate from time to time, it was small potatoes. At some point I'd gotten used to having him around, and lately, I was starting to realize I couldn't imagine him not being there.
We'd hardly seen each other all week and I knew he was feeling as deprived as I was. I'd shot him a quick text during the final round of post-contract back slapping telling him I would be home soon and to have his hot little ass, a six pack of decent beer, and my favorite comfort food waiting. I didn't know what I was hungriest for first, but I intended to relish all three as I regaled him with the tale of the great Peter A. Bryant, king of ad men, and his victory over the over-fed, under-intelligent unreasonable client-beast. I was sure he would at least pretend to be extremely impressed.
At least that would be my plan if the old fart in the Lincoln in front of me would remember what the fucking vertical pedal on the right was for. I took a deep breath and counted to ten in an attempt to refrain from laying on the horn. I may not have been successful. In any case, it was a frustrating forty three minutes later before I finally pulled into my driveway and past the house, dark except for the bright living room windows in the front, and parked behind J's beat up red Civic.
There was no light on at the back door, the way I always came in. It irked me, but I made an effort to put it aside, reasoning it was still daylight when he got home. Only natural that he wouldn't think of turning on a light.
I got maybe one step inside the dark mud room that led into the kitchen before I found myself pitching forward, grabbing wildly for the door frame to break my fall, dropping my briefcase in the process. It, and the laptop inside it, landed on its hard corner right on the arch of my foot. God Fucking Dammit!
Hopping on my uninjured foot, I fumbled for the light switch. Sure enough, someone had kicked off a pair of twink-sized tennis shoes just inside the door. I scooped one up in frustration.
"J!" My angry shout was met with silence from the dark rooms beyond. Fuck it. I was pissed but all I wanted was my dinner and a brew. The cute boyfriend was no longer invited. Viciously ripping off my tie and hobbling to the fridge, I yanked the door open.
I froze. No beer. Nothing but bottled water, half a pack of cheese slices and a fresh half gallon of milk.
At that same moment I registered the lack of aroma in the air. No beckoning scent of sizzled beef, melted cheese or toasty bread. I turned slowly. No Tino's bag on the counter or in the trash. No light on the oven signaling something delicious warming inside.
That little shit. One thing. One fucking thing I ask him to do all fucking week and he blows it off. Blows me off. God damn him! There was no way he ran out of time. His last fucking class ended at noon on Fridays. And he'd found time to stop for fucking milk because heaven forbid someone go without his precious Honey Nut Cheerios in the morning. Furious, I limped out of the kitchen and through the dining room, throwing open the pocket doors that separated the living room from the rest of the house.
There he was. My anger stuttered for a minute at the sight of him. His back was to me and he was bopping to something playing on his iPod, wearing a red t-shirt two sizes too small so it clung to his slim torso like a second skin and rode up to his navel. He knew how I loved that color against his pale complexion and wore it whenever he wanted to get me hot. For some reason that pissed me off even more. Below that, he wore nothing but white BVDs and crew socks ala Tom Cruise in Risky Business. But Tom never looked like this.
My boy was fair as I was dark: blond hair to my black, blue eyes to my espresso brown, 5'7" to my 6'2". He was also as easy going and sunny as I was intense and short tempered. While I still had the build of the hockey player I'd once been, he was boy-slim everywhere except for his perfectly round, luscious bubble butt, which was currently grinding in a way that made my mouth go dry and my cock twitch instantly to life. Hands in the air, he sang along to the tune only he could hear.
"My baybay…. wooo…."
No. Fuck him. I didn't care how edible his ass looked under that white stretch cotton. I was fucking sick of his inconsiderate behavior and he was going to fucking well know it. I chucked his damned tennis shoe at the wall directly in front of him. He jumped and turned around, but I was already on him, yanking the ear buds from his head.
"What are you doing?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"W-what?" His blank look pushed me over the edge.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" I blasted so close to his face that he flinched back. Looming over him, I took full advantage of my extra seven inches of height.
"I was… listening to Moby," he offered in a small voice, trying not to shrink at the look I was giving him. "It's really… hot…"
I continued to pound him with an acid glare that could've stripped old shellac. He tried again, forcing lightness into his tone. "What's up?"
"What's up?" I mocked, my voice dripping sarcasm. "What's up is that I come home at the end of a killer fucking day and almost killed myself walking into my own fucking house because somebody left his fucking shoes in the doorway and all the lights off. What's up is you didn't bring home anything for dinner even though I specifically asked you to. What's up this is not a hotel and you are not on your blond ambition tour. Finally, what's up is that you are going to pick up your shit… and take off that fucking shirt!" That last demand might not have made a whole hell of a lot of sense, but I was too pissed to care.
J wisely kept his mouth shut. Face utterly deadpan, he slowly crossed his arms and peeled off the shirt without flourish, letting it drop to the floor beside him. Crystal blue eyes stayed fixed on mine except for the second it took to tug the offending shirt over his artfully unruly curls. I kept my eyes locked on his as well, refusing to allow myself become distracted by his tiny pink nipples or the way his generous cock filled out the front of his BVDs so I wouldn't lose my momentum.
"All I wanted was to come home, have some dinner, and fall asleep in front of the tube…"
"I could make you something…" he chimed in hopefully.
"No, you couldn't. Because someone neglected to buy any food today. So unless you were planning to feed me Kraft cheese slices over Cheerios, I'm shit out of luck. Oh yeah… Cheerios with milk… because you conveniently managed to make sure that your breakfast was covered."
He was looking pretty contrite at this point, his little teeth sinking into his soft lips. "I'm sorry," he offered.
"Not nearly as sorry as I am," I spat back, unfairly implying that my regrets extended further than the events of the evening. I wasn't exactly proud of that but I pushed on. "One fucking thing I asked you to do for me all fucking week and you couldn't even be bothered to do it." I didn't add how he lived in my house rent free and was rarely called on to pay for anything from food, to clothes to nights out on the town. I wasn't such a dick that I'd throw that in his face. It wasn't his fault that I was rolling in it these days and he was still a poor student.
He just stood there, all pathetic puppy eyes, chewing his lower lip into deeper and deeper shades of cherry red. I wasn't going to be able to keep this up much longer. It's just a reality I had to accept. It was pretty much impossible to stay good and mad when you lived with someone as adorable and sexy as J, however justified your cause. I gave it one last effort.
"What's it going to take, huh, J?" Even to my own ears, my tone was more resigned than angry. "Tell me, please. What is it going to take to get you to show me a little consideration? A little fucking respect?" I huffed out a breath, lifting my hands to his shoulders in a gesture that felt like defeat.
He released his lip, all wet and red and swollen from his worried teeth. It looked like he'd been kissed long and hard and by somebody who knew how it was done. A little hypnotized by it, I almost missed the glint in his eye. The aggressive charge in the air shifted and I suddenly found myself in an atmosphere that was miles from what it had been moments before.
I'd nearly forgotten my rhetorical question when he answered it.
"I don't know… Daddy."
That one word went straight to my cock, lust flaring through me as it always did when he called me that. I'd never been interested in any sort of role playing before J came into my life. I had always been of the opinion that fucking was enough if you were doing it right. All it took was that one little word, and my boy looking up at me with those big blue eyes, to reverse my position on that. From the first time I'd heard it drop from his perfect lips, all breathless and needy, another side of me had come to life. A side that both of us enjoyed immensely.
A side that knew in an instant that it was time for J to find out what happened to bad little boys.
My hands slipped down from his shoulders to grip his upper arms. "Mmm. You don't know, huh? Then maybe it's time you were taught some manners."
He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was lost in a squeak of surprise as I snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him down with me to the couch, angling his fall so he landed face down across my lap. That was a pretty fancy maneuver and I was pretty proud of it.
Instinctively, he tried to wriggle away. I put a quick stop to that by clamping one arm around his hips and delivering a sharp smack to his cotton covered derriere, so enticingly bent over my lap.
"Settle down," I commanded. He stopped squirming and looked over his shoulder at me. I made my voice as stern as I could manage. "Listen to me. You know you've earned this. More than that, you need this." His brows knitted together in skepticism, so I upped the ante, moving my right hand to start kneading his firm bottom.
"I know you don't want to be bad. You want to be a good boy, don't you?" I challenged. He nodded slowly, sensing a trap coming. Smart boy. I just kept rubbing and talking. "I know you do. You want to be my good boy. You just need a little help sometimes. Isn't that something a good daddy should do? Help his boy be what he wants to be?"
He bit his lip again, trying, but failing, to concentrate on my line of logic instead of my roaming hand. I reached over and freed his lip with my thumb, gently smoothing over that plush softness. Immediately, he drew my thumb into his warm mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it.
"See there? See how eagerly you show me how much you want to please your daddy… to be a good boy." He nodded and sucked harder, writhing on my lap to push his ass into my hand. I had him now. Pulling my thumb from his mouth I gave his bottom another stinging smack, rubbing the spot as his face registered his surprise.
"You can see what's coming, can't you? You want to be a good boy and your daddy is here to help you. But for you to earn it back, you've got to take your medicine. You want that, don't you? To earn your 'good boy' status back?" His eyes were big as he nodded slowly. "So you want your medicine, don't you?" Another nod.
"Then ask me for it."
For a second I wondered if I'd pushed it too far, but a study of his face told me I was on the right track. His expression was full shock and trepidation, which I judged that to be at least mostly phony. Under that veneer of play-acting, however, I saw a deep well of lust and anticipation. That was totally real and hot as hell. Still, it felt like an eternity waiting for him to say something. When he finally answered, I wanted to pump my fist in the air in victory.
"Please… give me my medicine."
"You know 'medicine' means a spanking?"
He blew out a breath. "Yes, Daddy."
"And you want to be a real good boy, not a pretend good boy, right?"
He just bit his lip again and nodded.
"Then ask me again."
Then my beautiful boy took a deep breath, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "Please spank me, Daddy. Spank me hard."
Reaching out and cupping his face in my hand, I gently rubbed the pad of my thumb back and forth over his cheekbone, overcome with tenderness for a moment. Just minutes ago I was yelling in his face, and now he was giving himself to me, trusting me completely. I was purely blown away by the strength and power of this man, putting himself in my hands like that, without reservation and in spite of fear. It was humbling. "There's my good boy," I whispered, and he turned his head to press a kiss to my palm.
I only savored the moment for a few long seconds before pulling my gaze away from his face. There was another part of his anatomy that needed my attention. As hot as he'd looked in his tighty whiteys, it was time for the underwear to go. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and tugged them down to his thighs. Have I mentioned already that my boy has the most beautiful bubble butt? Round and firm, with creamy smooth skin which was perfectly displayed bent over my lap like it was. I grabbed two nice big handfuls of that gorgeous flesh and gave it a firm squeeze. There wasn't much I hadn't done to that ass, but this was going to be a step further than we had gone before.
"Ready, sweet boy?"
With a little shiver of anticipation, he nodded. My hand came up and landed on one cheek with a crack loud enough to startle me a little. J jumped at the impact but then relaxed with a groan as I massaged away the sting.
"Okay?" His quick nod reassured me and I brought down a matching whack on the other cheek. Almost immediately a pink blush rose to the surface. I'd thought his bottom looked great before, but it was even more amazing colored by my hand. I had to have more of that.
I started out slow, alternating sides and rubbing after each blow. I couldn't even describe how delicious it felt every time my hand collided with his steadily reddening flesh. It was so incredibly intimate; the sting in my palm as skin connected with skin, the way he jolted and wriggled on my lap against my granite-hard erection. The way the sting transformed into heat when I rubbed it in. And the sounds my boy made, the chorus of small cries and moans, were like oxygen to a flame. Best of all was the way he pushed his ass up again and again, asking for more.
It didn't take long for both of us to get pretty worked up. If all the inspiring noises he was making weren't evidence enough, I could feel his pretty dick poking into my thigh with every flinch and wiggle. I picked up the pace and intensity, catching him in that sweet spot right where the curve of his ass meets the top of his thigh, laying in a rhythm that almost felt like I was fucking him. His reactions certainly looked like that, moaning and rocking back into every blow like he was trying to take it deeper. It may have been the hottest thing I'd ever seen or felt, short of actually being inside him.
His hip slammed up against my aching cock again, pulling a loud groan from me. Nothing could top being buried inside that sweet ass, but this was damn close. My hand was starting to throb, but I recognized the desperate tone of his cries meant he was getting close. There was no way I could let him down now. Yet half a dozen hard spanks later, he was still on the edge.
"Daddy," His voice was panting and plaintive. "Daddy pleeease…."
Pausing, I caressed his hot, rosy curves with my tingling palm. "What do you need, baby boy?" I asked him, voice loving and low.
"Need to come…. please…."
"And you need Daddy's help?"
His nod was jerky. Needy.
"I've got you, baby boy." I ran a soothing hand over his sweaty back. "I've got you."
Slicking a thumb in my mouth, I drew a wet line down his crack and traced lightly around his hole. He immediately opened his legs as far as he could without unbalancing himself and pushed back urgently. Demanding. I didn't make him wait, pressing slowly, but firmly, into his tight, velvet heat. I heard him suck in a breath and I paused to let the burn ease, buried in him to the second knuckle. To distract him, I shifted to trap his cock between my legs. With a moan, he thrust down into the soft fabric valley of my thighs.
I reached around with my left hand and resumed the rhythmic spanking he'd been enjoying so much. With the awkward angle I couldn't get the leverage I had before, but he was pretty tender already so I wasn't going for intensity this time. Now it was all about pure pleasure. I drew my thumb out most of the way and pushed back in, smooth and deep, my fingers slipping down to stroke his perineum and tease the soft, wrinkled skin beneath.
The effect on my boy was electric. In record time I had him writhing all over my lap, filling the room with erotic noise. I alternated slaps with my driving thumb while he fucked my lap like a little possessed wild thing.
It wasn't long before I felt the short, erratic jerks that signaled he was about to come. Bending over him, I wrapped my left arm under his chest and held him to me tight, fucking him with hard, deep strokes, my long thumb just managing to graze his gland. His body writhed, completely consumed by his imminent orgasm. I pressed my mouth to his ear and whispered, "There's my good boy. Let go now. Come for Daddy."
He grunted with a force that seemed to rip right through him, and then he was coming apart in my arms, crying out as wave after wave of ecstasy smashed through him, his tight ass clamping around my invading thumb as his cock pumped streams of his warm essence down the leg of my dress pants.
Slipping my hand from him, I wrapped my other arm around him and held him tight to my chest, dropping kisses into his cornsilk curls as his shudders slowed and finally stopped.
I felt like I should say something, but I was honestly too overwhelmed to speak. We'd been playing daddy games for a long time, but this was different somehow. Maybe it was the level of trust he'd shown me, or the way he'd given himself to me so completely. Whatever the reason, all I knew was that I'd never felt so close to my boy before. So protective. So possessive. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'd known for a while that J was more to me than the housemate and happy fuck friend I'd been pretending he was. Now there was no denying it. This beautiful boy was mine and I'd be damned if I was ever going to let him go.
All of these thoughts swirled and clanked around in my head, but I said nothing. I just held him, rocking gently as his breathing slowed and returned to normal. After a bit he squirmed a little, and I loosened my hold enough so he could turn sideways in my arms and look up at me. His eyes were so open and lit from within, his expression looking suspiciously like devotion. If the way my heart was thumping was any indication, I'm pretty sure he was seeing the same thing in mine.
Okay, so neither of us were poets. Still, we both knew what we were feeling and saw it's reflection in the other. It was almost too much. I couldn't keep looking into his eyes like that, and I was too chicken-shit to say out loud what I was screaming in my head, so instead I lowered my lips to his and tried to say it with my kiss. Yes. I get it now. You're the one for me. Nothing else matters. I was probably thinking the love word too... but it would be a while before I was ready to admit that to myself.
J twisted his arms around my neck, shifting from his still sprawled position across my legs to sit up so he could deepen the kiss, opening his mouth to invite me in. I'd just dipped in for my first taste of his sweetness, when all of a sudden he yelped and jumped off my lap.
I just sat there for a second with my mouth open and my arms still raised as though I expected him to jump right back in to them. J's expression was rueful as he gingerly raised a hand to his flaming behind and said, "Ow."
We both burst out laughing, the mood officially broken. When I stood and J saw my still painfully stiff boner straining against my pants and the rather large, sticky wetness all down one leg, he howled even harder.
"Hey, you little twat," I scolded, still laughing myself. "This is Armani. Show a little fucking respect!"
"You're going... to have a tough time... explaining that... to your dry cleaner," he managed to get out in gasps, between fits of giggles.
"Mmm... I think you meant to say you are going have a hard time explaining it to my dry cleaner."
"No can do, Daddycakes," he tossed back with a sassy smirk. I snorted at that one.
"And why is that?"
"Because... It'll be days before I'll be able to sit in the car to drive it there!"
I chuckled again and wrapped my arms around him. Even without the heartfelt declarations, I just couldn't seem to keep my hands off him.
"Well that's a darned shame, princess, because I had more plans for that tight little ass of yours tonight. But if I'm too much for you..."
"It's just the sitting down activities that are off limits." He countered with an impish grin. "As long as I can keep my ass in the air, I can take whatever you can dish out."
I grinned back down at him and growled. "Well then. I suggest you get your red-hot tush up to the bedroom."
I slapped playfully at one cheek, but he was too quick for me, twisting out of my embrace and hopping away. With a little kick he lost the BVDs that were still hanging around one ankle and made for the stairs, socks slipping on the hardwood floor as he rounded the corner. I was right on his tail as he scampered up, staying just ahead of my swatting hand, both of us laughing all the way.
When I got to the doorway of the master bedroom, I barely even noticed the duvet was neatly folded on the bench at the bottom of the bed and the bowl of condoms and lube was set out on the side table rather than in the drawer where they normally lived, in deference to our cleaning lady. Those minor observations were eclipsed by the sight of my boy.
Laughter evaporated and my mouth went dry again. J must have taken a flying leap because he was already sprawled face down in the middle of the bed, all creamy smooth skin on bright white sheets. His arms were curled under him and he had his face turned toward me on the pillow wearing an expression that was half coy, half innocence. Below that, his legs were spread wide in invitation and his back was arched, displaying those gorgeously rounded, bright red cheeks to perfection, the sole spot of enticing color in the middle of all that ethereal paleness. And he'd left his white socks on.
My boy knew how to get me where I live.
Slowly, I stripped as I advanced on the bed, savoring the sight of him and giving him the opportunity to do the same. Cuff links, dress shirt, belt, trousers, shoes and socks all dropped to the floor one by one in a line from the door. When I finally hooked my thumbs into my briefs and tugged them down, my cock practically leapt out, ecstatic to be free of the restricting fabric. It was a pretty impressive erection even for me, if I do say so myself.
J must have agreed because his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He might have even been panting a little. I had other plans for him tonight, but I wasn't so cruel as to deny him a little taste. My boy was a devoted cock sucker.
Kneeling one leg next to his head I said, "Go ahead, sweetness. Have yourself a taste."
J immediately pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss right the end of my weeping dick, the tip of his tongue teasing the slit. I groaned loudly and carded my fingers into his baby-soft hair, reveling in the first direct contact my cock had had with his mouth in days.
He swirled his wet tongue around the head a couple of times before wrapping his cherry lips around me and sucking in my length until I was snug up against the back of his throat. Then he hummed. My hips had a little conspiracy going on with my dick and started to pump without me making a decision to do it. His eyes were closed the way you do when you taste something amazing, his ridiculously long, feathery lashes brushing his high cheekbones. Through glazed eyes I watch my cock disappear again and again in to his warm, pretty mouth. When he finally looked up at me, his blue eyes heavy with lust, I almost came right there. Closing my hand in his hair, I eased him off me.
He smirked, knowing only too well why I'd stopped him. "Now who's too much for who?"
"Yes, yes. You are a world class cock sucking talent." I conceded. "When they add it to the Olympics, you're a shoe-in for the gold."
He ducked his head forward and planted one more lick on me before I could shift out of his reach. His ensuing grin was unapologetic. Three or four comments sprang to mind, but I rejected them all in favor of leaning in and kissing him deeply.
I ran a blunt fingernail down his spine and felt his shudder. My lips were quick to follow that path, kissing my way to his ear, then down his neck to the nape, between his shoulder blades to the concave arc of his lower back and on to his tailbone, shifting as I went until I was kneeling between his open legs.
How is it possible to feel so tender and protective towards someone and want to ravage them at the same time? Whatever the reason, I wasn't going to waste time thinking about it then. Softly, reverently, I pressed my lips to each of his flaming cheeks, earning a tiny sigh from him. As gently as I could, I placed my hands on those rosy curves and pressed them apart so he was completely spread open for me. God, he was pretty. I loved his fair, blond coloring. He was just pink and white everywhere, including his sweet little asshole.
I leaned and pressed my lips to his entrance, teasing the sensitive pucker with the tip of my tongue. He groaned loudly, echoing the sound I made when he'd done the same thing to my dick. He smelled so good, soap and musk, and the taste was pure J.
Taking my time despite his increasingly urgent whimpers, I drew lazy circles with my tongue, flicking across the place where he desperately wanted me to go. When he started grind his hips, pushing into me, I flattened my tongue and gave him a big, long lick from the base of his balls all the way up his crack.
A few more of those and I had him muttering under his breath. I grinned. Another minute, less maybe, and he'd start swearing at me. When I glanced up, I saw he'd shoved all of the pillows away in order to brace his hands against the headboard. A deep rose flushed from his hairline down over his slim shoulders. His lips were parted and panting a little; his eyes were closed.
I loved seeing him like that, knowing I was the one who drove him to it. He was like a beautiful instrument that I'd spent months studying until I knew just how to play him to put him just where I wanted him; screaming in ecstasy, moaning with pleasure, or anywhere in between. I wondered for the first time, if anyone else had ever taken the time to know him like that. Selfishly, I hoped not. With my new found realization that he was special to me, it was suddenly very important that I be special to him.
My hands smoothed up the beautiful, glistening contours of his back, mouth following and tasting his salted sweetness every inch of the way. I reached for the necessary supplies and quickly sheathed myself, reaching down with slick fingers to ready him for me.
A second finger soon followed the first as he moaned beneath me, and I stretched myself over him until the whole length of him was pressed against me from shoulders to toes. He reached up again to push against the headboard of the bed in an attempt to hurry things along, but I caught his wrists and crossed them above his head, holding them in one hand while the other reached down to position the thick head of my cock snug against his opening.
"You'll get this when I'm ready to give it to you, and then you take it all. You understand me, boy?" He made a little whining sound but nodded, his eyes squeezed shut with frustration. I couldn't make him wait much longer. Hell, I couldn't wait much longer.
Crossing my free arm under his chest to curl up around his shoulder, I pushed into him. He hissed in a breath as I breached the tight ring of muscle but I didn't stop, knowing he liked to feel the burn of being invaded.
Fully encased in his tight heat, I just held him close as he whimpered, murmuring softly in his ear. "Good boy… my good sweet boy… mmm feel so tight on my dick… feel how hard I am for you… so good, so hot… mmm you take your Daddy's cock so well… could fuck your hot sweet ass all day long… mine… all mine…" I hadn't strictly been planning to say that last bit, but the long moan I heard from J when the word "mine" slipped from my lips made me start to wonder if he'd been waiting to hear it for a long time.
"Ung… Daddy… please." There was the breathless, needy sound in his voice that had somehow become the focus of my life.
"Yes, baby boy… Daddy's here… I've got you…" Holding him tighter I shifted my hips, moving ever so slightly within him.
He started to writhe beneath me. "More… oh God… More please, Daddy…" I knew he was asking for more talk as well as more action, and I planned to give him as much of the former as I could before the latter made it impossible to string sentences together anymore. To be honest, that point wasn't very far off.
I eased back and pressed forward again slowly, relishing the feeling of his body embracing me again. "More of that, sweet boy?"
"Uh... God… yes pleeeeease Daddy… please!"
"Don't worry, baby. I know what you need. Daddy's going to fuck your pretty ass nice and hard."
Trying to hold back as long as I could, I pulled back and sank into him again. Setting an easy pace, I stroked in and out, losing myself in the incomparable feeling of his ass gliding along my dick. He moved with me in perfect synchronicity, rising to meet my thrusts as I surged over him and into him again and again.
Despite my best intentions, I wasn't going to last much longer. Deeper and harder, I plunged, angling myself so I would hit his gland with each thrust, bringing him with me so I wouldn't climax without him. I released his hands to shift most of my weight to that elbow, freeing up my other hand to slip down his chest and stroke his shaft, my thumb slicking the fluid it found down and over his length. He went wild beneath me as I worked him as hard as I could in that tight space, moving in time with my thrusts. His slim hips lost their rhythm as his cries rose in pitch the closer he got to that peak.
"Come on, sweetness… that's it… come on Daddy's cock… come all over Daddy's hand…"
With a final wail he did exactly that, his ass seizing my dick like a hot fist as he filled my hand with wet warmth. With a cry that sounded almost like a sob I crashed into the hurricane of sensation with him, my whole body pouring into him with a force that robbed me of everything but the feeling of our bodies merging in a grasping ecstasy that went on and on.
Eventually, I realized I must be crushing him and shifted off, flopping bonelessly on to my back. Before my sense fully returned to me, I felt J slip under my arm and rest his head on my shoulder, curling his sweat-slick body around mine. Tossing the condom in the general direction of the trash can, I wrapped my arm around him, I kissing the top of his head.
He looked up at me with a smile. "So… rough day?"
"Yeah," I chuckled, "Sorry I took it out on your ass."
"I'm not," he grinned and stretched up for a kiss. Pressing my lips to his, I gently sucked his lower lip between mine.
Just as I was about to tip his head back and deepen the kiss, the doorbell chimed downstairs. I was solidly in favor of ignoring it, but before I could say anything, J was hopping out of bed.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, more perplexed than annoyed as I watched him zip into the bathroom. Why did it seem like every time I tried to kiss him tonight he was jumping away?
"Um… answering the door?" he called back.
"How about skipping the Jehovah's Witnesses and coming back here," I muttered, pulling myself to a sitting position against the headboard. Just then my stomach let out a loud growl. Rubbing it absently, I wondered if there was any bread in the cupboard. A toasted cheese sandwich wasn't the greatest dinner in the world, but it would beat Cheerios.
"Unless the JW's are working the late shift, I'm guessing that is delivery from Tino's." J replied, reappearing in my robe.
"I don't care if it's... wait... what?"
He pulled the top sheet out from under me and I automatically lifted my hips to let him, noticing absently that he'd made up the bed with two top sheets instead of one.
"Tino's," he repeated, and indulgent note in his voice. "You know... home of the sandwich's true meaning for existence?"
"But how... when...?" It was taking my sex-addled brain some time to process this. Besides which Tino's doesn't deliver. It's one of the great tragedies of life.
"Friend from my design class delivers for the pizza joint next door to Tino's. I saved his ass on a project a couple of weeks ago so he owed me one. I gave him a call when I saw your lights pull in the driveway." He dropped a warm, damp washcloth on my chest and balled up the soiled sheet as he explained, heading toward the door.
Realization began to dawn as I wiped myself clean of lube and other rapidly drying substances; the sheets, the condoms and lube out and ready, dancing in that tight red shirt and white BVDs, Tino's delivery. That was planning. I was a fly by the seat of my pants guy, but J was a planner.
"J!" I called after him. He was already halfway down the hall.
"Yeah?" He popped his head back in, question mark on his face.
"Did you..." I could hardly believe the question myself, "...leave your shoes in the doorway on purpose?"
His mouth twisted into a sly smile for a fraction of a second before his face went completely deadpan. "I have no idea what you're talking about." And he was gone.
I heard his steps all the way down the stairs before I burst out laughing. That clever little... he'd planned the whole thing beginning to end. He knew how restless and irritable I would be at the end of a week like this, and that what I really needed was to blow off some steam. He'd deliberately left the light off and his shoes where I'd trip on them and let me think he'd forgotten my dinner to provoke me into letting loose on him. I don't know if he'd bargained for exactly what happened, but I was as sure as I could be that he'd put himself directly in the way of my wrath just so I could get it out of my system.
That's when I knew I was as special to him as he was to me. He'd made the same careful study of me that I'd made of him, learning me until he knew just how to give me exactly what I needed to make me as happy as possible.
That's when I knew he loved me.
For the first time, love didn't seem like a scary, limiting trap. It felt like everything coming together in a way that was completely unexpected yet completely right, like an endless adventure story that would never be fully solved but I'd never get tired of playing out.
Ridiculously, I suddenly found myself thinking of the Grinch and how his heart grew three sizes the day he learned what the spirit of Christmas really meant. By the time my own little "Who" slipped back in the door with a bed tray laden with Amber Bock and roast beast, my heart was so full of him that I could almost feel it pushing against my ribs.
"Ta da!" he said, sweeping in and settling the tray beside me with a flourish. "The king of sandwiches for the king of ad men!"
As he rounded the end of the bed to his side, he snagged the remote and turned on the TV. All queued up was one of my top ten favorite classics, Touch of Evil. The opening credits rolled as he shrugged out of the robe and climbed back into bed. I lifted my arm so he could snuggle into his place at my side and pulled him close.
"You take such good care of me," I murmured.
"What are you talking about?" he dismissed, eyes on the screen while he snagged one of the beers for himself. "I don't see what you like so much about this movie. Charlton Heston makes a terrible Mexican."
"Wells is a genius. You can see that in every frame. The opening tracking shot alone…" I replied automatically. "Besides, that last scene… Marlene Dietrich, when she says 'He was some kind of a man...'"
"... what does it matter what you say about people." he quoted, finishing the iconic line with a perfect impression of Dietrich's delivery.
"Yeah." I buried my face in his hair and kissed his head. "You really are my boy, aren't you?" I whispered, wondering if he'd even hear me.
J swiveled his head around and looked up at me, his smile the most beautiful I'd ever seen it.
A/N: If you recognized a bit of this from a certain TV show, it's not plagiarism. It's an homage. If you know what I'm talking about then you are one of the cool kids. (If not, it's not too late. I'll tell ya and then you can go watch it and be cool too.)
A thousand thanks to the friends who helped and encouraged and debated and steered me away from ill-advised character choices. You know who you are.