Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Brett
The week has been long for both of us. Konnor’s not been feeling the best. He’s not sick, but he’s also not at full capacity. The easy, playful energy we usually share has been stretched thin, replaced by exhaustion.
But my boy invited me over tonight, a welcome request after too many days apart. He’s a touch subdued; his body curled on the sofa scrolling on his phone instead of chattering.
I finish plating our lunch, then bring the food over to the table. The living room is lit only by the single lamp in the corner. It gives the space a sort of glow, creating a majestic type of feel.
My pretty boy looks up with tired eyes. “All done, Daddy?”
“Yep.” I sink onto the couch beside him. “How’s the world looking today? Anything interesting?”
He turns the phone my way. The image on the screen shows a detailed cathedral amid a gothic backdrop with winding streets and impossible architecture. It’s beautiful. It’s also very much unlike my colorful, creative boy.
“Just some mindless scrolling,” he murmurs, putting it aside.
I reach out and run a hand through his hair, my fingers combing through the long strands. He leans into the touch like a cat, his eyes closing. “You’ve had a tough week, pretty boy. I know you haven’t felt your best.”
A small hum is his only reply.
“Look at me.”
He opens his eyes. I can see the pain in them. The heaviness he’s trying so hard to hide. He wants to be a “big boy” and handle it all.
“You don’t have to be tough for me, pretty boy. I can and want to take care of you.”
His lower lip trembles for a second before he bites it. That small sign is all the invitation I need. I lean in and kiss him.
It’s meant as a way to comfort him. A reminder that I’m here and willing to be the support he needs—even when he doesn’t have the words to ask.
You’re safe with me.
My boy melts against me, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his arms wrap around my shoulders. The way he goes pliant never ceases to amaze me.
I pull back, not wanting to push him too far when his energy is low. The kiss isn’t for anything more than what it is.
Except Konnor doesn’t seem to like that. He huffs, leaning forward to meet my mouth again. This time, the kiss deepens instantly. His tongue sweeps against my lips. Normally I’d chide him for taking the lead, but something tells me my boy needs to feel some control.
Besides, as long as I get to have him, I don’t mind letting him do so every once in a while.
The tension in his shoulders begins to unwind under my palms. It’s a relief after seeing him so closed off.
I break the kiss, resting my forehead against his. Our breaths mingle. “I want to take care of you,” I whisper. “Let me take care of you. All of you.”
He nods, his eyes dark and trusting. “Please, Daddy.”
The word Daddy spoken in that hushed, needy tone, ignites a different kind of heat in my body. I stand and offer him my hand. He takes it, letting me pull him to his feet. I lead him to his bedroom.
His oasis.
His sanctuary.
The room is dark, but light from the hall spills across the bed. I don’t turn on the big light. No need to overstimulate my boy when I’ve gotten him to peel back some of those layers.
Instead, I guide him to stand at the foot of the bed and turn him to face me. My fingers find the hem of his t-shirt.
“Arms up.”
He obeys, lifting his arms, and I pull the shirt up and over his head. It falls soundlessly to the floor. His skin is painted in shadows. I trace one along his ribcage, unable to stop admiring how gorgeous he is. My boy shivers under the touch.
I discard my own shirt, then I undo the button of his jeans. I push them down, and he steps out of them, kicking them aside. He stands before me in just his simple black boxer briefs.
My mouth waters as I take him in.
After a few moments, I do the same, shedding my own pants. I have to force myself not to rush. There’s plenty of time.
Plus, I know he’s still a bit tired even if he wants to be intimate. I can’t overexert him.
I pull him against me, bringing us skin to skin, and allowing the heat from my body to seep into his. His head falls against my chest. My hands roam over his back, down his spine, over the swell of his ass.
He moans against my pec. “Daddy.”
“Yes, pretty boy?”
Mumbled words are all I get in reply. I chuckle, pulling him down onto the bed with me as I press another kiss against his lips.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I declare once I find the will to pull away.
I kiss my way down his body. Over the hollow of his throat, taking in the rapid beat of his pulse. Across the plane of his chest, where I swirl my tongue around one nipple, then the other, earning a sharp gasp.
My journey continues over his stomach as I follow the trail of dark hair leading down. I nuzzle there, against the fabric of his briefs. I can feel him hard and eager beneath.
His hips jerk up.
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” I soothe, hooking my fingers in the waistband. “Lift for me.”
He rises, and I slide the last barrier away. Now he’s fully exposed, beautifully erect, all flushed and leaking. I don’t take him in my mouth immediately. Instead, I kiss the inside of his thigh, making him squirm and whimper.
“Daddy, give me more. Make it all better.”
“I know what you need,” I say, my voice rough. I reach over to the nightstand and retrieve supplies. His eyes follow my every move. I slick my fingers, warming the gel.
“Just my fingers first. Relax for me.”
I kiss his belly button as my hand travels lower. He parts his legs willingly, letting out a breathy sigh as I circle his entrance. I watch his face, then smile when I see only anticipation.
“Breathe out, pretty boy.”
He exhales, and I press in carefully, past the initial tight resistance. His body tenses for a second before he manages to relax.
“Good boy,” I praise, leaning down to kiss him softly on the mouth as I work my finger. “So good for me.”
I crook my finger, searching, and when I brush that spot inside him, his whole body jolts.
“Y-yes! Oh, god, Daddy!”
I add a second finger, stretching him with care. By the time I have three fingers moving within him, he’s a mess of pleas. His cock strains against his stomach, pre-come smeared everywhere.
“I’m ready. Please! I need… need to feel you,” he begs.
“I know, pretty boy. I know.”
I withdraw my fingers, earning a needy whine. I cover myself quickly, adding a bit more lube, then move over him, bracing my weight on my arms. I look down into his eyes.
“Keep your focus on me. I want to see all of you.”
He nods, his gaze locked on mine. I guide myself to him, the head of my cock nudging against his stretched opening. I push forward with a level of patience I didn’t think possible.
My boy’s mouth falls open in a silent cry. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment before he forces them open again, just like I’d asked him to.
The feel of his body wrapped around mine is overwhelming.
“Breathe,” I remind him. “Just breathe through it with me.”
We find a rhythm as I sink deeper, bit by bit, until I’m fully seated inside him. Sweat beads on my forehead. I fight between wanting to make slow, sweet love to him and needing to fuck him so hard he can’t form coherent thoughts.
“Okay?” I ask, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead.
He nods and a tear slips from the corner of his eye. “So full. I love it.”
I kiss the tear away. Then I begin to move.
Each time I pull back is agony. Each thrust forward a homecoming.
I angle my hips to hit that spot inside him with every stroke, and his reactions are music to my ears. My name becomes a prayer as his legs work to pull me deeper.
My world narrows to the feel of him. To the sight of him unraveling beneath me.
The love I feel is a physical thing, a pressure in my chest even greater than the pleasure coiling in my spine. I watch as his release builds. His hands scramble on my back as his mouth drops open.
“Daddy, I’m close. I’m gonna—”
“That’s it, pretty boy,” I urge. “Come for me. Let me see you.”
With a broken cry that sounds like my name and a sob mixed together, he arches off the bed. His release paints stripes across his stomach and chest in hot pulses. The intense grip of his body around mine is all it takes for me to fall apart.
My own climax roars through me, white-hot and blinding. It pulls a guttural groan from my throat as I spill into the condom, my hips stuttering against his as I ride the waves of pleasure.