Chapter 15 #2
I knew Felix hadn’t come, and I wanted desperately to give that to him.
I wanted it so bad my teeth ached. I was shaking, but not from the come-down, not from the bath, or even from the way Felix’s hands steadied me under the bubbles.
It was the thought of him, still hard, cock so thick and hot against my back, and the need to please him burned through me, sweet and desperate and sharp.
But I was scared. Terrified, really. That if I asked, he’d laugh.
Or worse, he’d tell me I didn’t have to—that I’d done enough already, and he’d just take care of it himself.
That it would be easier for him if he didn’t have to deal with me at all.
Or maybe it was just that I didn’t know how to say the words and not sound pathetic.
I thought back to the times we’d been intimate and knew Felix had gotten off but not because of something I’d done, and failure settled over me like a dark cloud.
He moved behind me, shifting so the water sloshed up over my thighs. His cock pressed against the small of my back, and I sucked in a breath, trying to hold completely still so I didn’t make it weird.
But Felix wasn’t bothered. Not even a little.
He reached for the showerhead, started to drain the water.
Rinsed the last of the bubbles off my chest, and then wrapped a towel around my shoulders, pulling me close.
“You did well,” he murmured, and the praise went straight to my head, but it didn’t alter facts.
He stood, water dripping down his own legs, and helped me out of the tub like I weighed nothing.
The air was cold, but his hands were everywhere, drying me off slow and careful, like I was breakable.
He didn’t let go, even when he had to reach for another towel, just kept me anchored with one big hand at my hip.
I wanted to drop to my knees so bad it hurt. I wanted to take him in my mouth, show him I was good, that I could be useful. But the memory of Jason’s words hung in the back of my mind, sour and heavy. You’re not even a real sub, you know that? Just a needy, whiny mess.
I tried to swallow it down. I tried to focus on Felix, tried to remember that this wasn’t before, that he wasn’t like the others. But the fear was there, sticky and raw, and I couldn’t make it go away.
He noticed. Of course he did. He always did.
He wrapped a towel around his own waist, then crouched down so he was eye level with me. His hand came up, cupped my jaw, thumb brushing along the edge where he’d just shaved me smooth.
“What’s going on in there, baby?” His voice was soft, careful. Not a hint of impatience.
My mouth went dry. I wanted to look away but he was right there, so close, so steady. I could feel his cock, hard, just under the towel. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to make him proud.
But I didn’t know how to ask.
“I…” My voice cracked. I looked down, heat crawling up my neck. “I want to…I want to make you feel good, but I don’t know if I should ask.”
He was silent for a second, thumb still rubbing gentle circles at my chin. “Why wouldn’t you ask?” I stared at the tile so long my eyes blurred. The words crowded in my throat, all jagged edges and guilt.
“Because…I don’t want to mess it up,” I whispered.
Felix didn’t move, but his thumb pressed under my jaw, steady. “Try again. Tell me what you want, baby.”
My face burned. There was no way to say it without sounding desperate. “I want to take care of you. I want to make you come. I want to make it good for you.” My voice was barely there.
He made a sound, low and hungry, and then his hand slid into my hair. “You don’t ask for too much. You never have. You ask for less than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I blinked fast, but it didn’t stop the sting in my eyes. “I want to show you I can. Please?”
His cock twitched under the towel, and I watched the way he reacted. He wanted this. He really did. My heart pounded.
“Then kneel for me,” Felix said, voice dropping half an octave.
I did. Right there on the towel, knees wide apart, hands behind my back because that’s where they always belonged. I bowed my head, waiting for him to say I was doing it wrong, but he just stroked my cheek, then untucked the towel.
He was thick and hard, flushed dark at the tip. I wanted him so bad my mouth watered. I didn’t wait for permission; he’d already given it to me. I leaned in, careful, and kissed the head of his cock, then licked a stripe up the underside.
Felix made a sound, not loud, but it clipped the air between us. His hand was back in my hair, not pushing, just guiding, gentle. “Look at you. Perfect, baby.”
The words made me reckless. I took him in my mouth, slowly at first, letting my lips get used to the size, the weight.
He tasted so clean, a little salty from precum, and I wanted to drown in it.
Every time I swallowed him deeper, he rewarded me—a soft groan, a hand smoothing the back of my neck, low, filthy praise that made my cock ache all over again.
I wanted to be better. I wanted to be the best he’d ever had. I let him slide over my tongue, then hollowed my cheeks a little, just how I’d been taught. Felix shuddered. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good. You were made for this.”
I moaned around his cock, and he lost a little of the careful control, rocking his hips just enough to let me know he needed it. I loved that. I loved knowing I could do that to him.
He didn’t last long. The bath, the touching, all of it must have wound him tight, because after a minute he warned me, voice rough: “Gonna come, baby. Want it?”
I nodded, desperate, and he came with a groan, thick and hot down my throat. I swallowed it all, then sucked him through the aftershocks like I’d never get enough.
Felix let go of my hair and just stroked my cheek. I felt the heat of his palm, gentle and solid, and I leaned into it because I didn’t know how not to. My mouth was still full of the taste of him, and I wanted to stay there forever, kneeling at his feet, just…wanted.
He wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb, eyes locked on mine. I didn’t dare look away. I didn’t want to.
“Good boy,” he said quietly, and my whole body went liquid. He didn’t even have to say anything else. That one line was enough.
He touched my jaw again, and I felt the scrape where he’d just shaved me, the skin warm and a little raw, but I liked it.
I liked that he’d wanted me smooth. I liked that he’d wanted to do it himself.
I wanted to ask if I’d done it right, but I didn’t have the words; I just hovered there, waiting for his verdict.
“You did perfect,” he murmured, thumb still stroking. “You always do. Come here.”
He pulled me up, slowly, careful not to make me dizzy, and wrapped the towel around my shoulders again. He tucked me into his side like I was supposed to go there, like maybe I belonged, and I was so happy I could’ve cried.
He steered me back to the bedroom, not saying much, just holding me close. I sagged against him, too tired and too loose to stand on my own, but it didn’t matter. He had me. He always did.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his lap, towel and all. I curled up, knees tucked in, head on his shoulder. I could feel his heart beating. Slow. Steady. Unshakeable.
He held me for a long time. Didn’t rush. Didn’t fill the air with words. Just sat, one hand splayed over my ribs, keeping me anchored, keeping me here. His other hand stroked up and down my back, not looking for anything, just soothing.
“Better?” he finally asked, voice low.
I nodded, face hidden in his shirt. “Yes, sir.”
He squeezed me gently. “You did a hard thing today. I’m proud of you.”
I smiled. I was proud of me, but it was Christmas Eve tomorrow and all this would be over soon.
Felix must have felt the shift in me because he went very still. His hand was warm on my back, but I was freezing on the inside.
I tried to say something, anything. The words stuck.
I didn’t want to lose this. Didn’t want to lose him.
I’d never let myself want anything this much, not even with Jason, and that had been nearly a decade of pretending if I just stayed quiet enough, maybe he’d let me stay.
I wanted Felix to keep me because I was good for him, not because he felt sorry for me.
I wanted him to want me around, not just as a sub, but as his.
I wanted him to be my Daddy. I wanted to be his boy.
The thought made my stomach turn over, sharp and sweet, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. If I said it out loud and he laughed—or worse, pitied me—I’d die. I would. The shame of wanting that, at my age, in this body, with all my failures, was a weight I could barely hold.
He’d called me good boy, but that was just what Doms said, right? It didn’t mean anything. If I asked for more, if I wanted more, he’d see me as pathetic. Too old. Too much. Too needy.
I curled tighter on his lap, desperate not to let it show, but he was stroking my hair, my back, like he’d wait out the storm forever.
“You’re quiet,” he said finally, voice low. “What’s happening in that head of yours?”
I shook my head, fast. “Nothing, sir.” I blew out a breath of air. “Maybe wishing it wasn’t the party.” That I could stay on his lap forever.
He chuckled and brushed a kiss in my hair. “We don’t have to stay long.”
No, I never stayed anywhere long.
I was always let go eventually.